RE: BLOOD AND IRON

The return home from war was far different from Bruno’s expected it to be. In his past life, the atmosphere in Berlin was one of solemn defeat, revolutionary sentiment, and the violence of those who sought to take advantage of the crisis.

This could not be said for this timeline. Germany was victorious in an overwhelming fashion. Losses were minimal and were well below the replacement rate. Germany’s economy was bolstered by the war, not broken by it.

Citizens of the Reich could proudly wave their banners and celebrate the return of their valiant heroes in the most lavish of fashions. The future was bright, and the storm clouds lingering far beyond the horizon.

But… The train ride was not particularly festive, not for Bruno and Heinrich at least. Who sat alone in their own cart, drinking beer, and looking at photographs of years past. The difference between the scenes in these pictures, and the one in front of them was that there were three men within the old images, and not merely two.

Bruno’s face was cold, but one could tell by the twitching of his eyes that there was a deep lament and sorrow within them. Heinrich, ever opposed to their fallen comrade, was, for once truly expressing his depression in a way he had seldom partaken in over the last decade.

The two men drank, and drank, bottles of beer piling up in front of them, almost as if they were in a competition to see who could consume the most of their favorite alcohol. Yet their expressions never changed, their sense of loss was finally kicking in now that the war was won, and Erich’s sacrifice which made it happen was only known to them.

It was ultimately Bruno who spoke, his face twitching, his voice struggling not to crack under the weight of heavy emotion that was weighing down his heart and mind as he lifted his beer bottle in the air and proposed a toast.

“To Erich, the true hero of the German Reich… The Terror of Belgorod, a loyal subordinate, and a great friend….”

Heinrich himself was forcing himself not to break down into tears at this point, the stupid nickname Erich had earned whose meaning damn near destroyed their friendship being brought up as a token of honor by Bruno reminded him of past regrets that it was far far too late to rectify.

And perhaps as a sign of him finally letting go of all the animosity he had harbored towards his friend over differences in how they performed their jobs, Heinrich lifted his glass and repeated Bruno’s toast.

“To the terror of Belgorod the Hero we needed but never deserved!”

After which, the two men were silent for the rest of their journey home. Stumbling off of the train along with the other soldiers of the German Army, who were equally intoxicated but for far more cheerful reasons.

Young men were grasped by their wives and lovers as they entered the streets of Berlin, who had waited for them at the station, while Bruno and Heinrich walked over to their own families who were waiting for them.

Alya seemed beyond pissed at her adoptive father, but when she noticed the state he was in, she said nothing. All the wrath she had prepared to vent on him for behaving ostentatiously while away was gone the moment she understood why Heinrich relapsed into his old and degenerate habits.

It was not a way to celebrate, but to cope with the losses he has suffered in the war. Because of this, Alya greeted Heinrich not with the fury of a woman scorned, but rather the love and support of a daughter finding her wounded father returning home alive, if not all intact.

“Father! I’m so happy you have returned to me!”

Heinrich, drunk out of his wits, had patted the girl’s hair and assured her everything would be fine… Even if his words weren’t all that reassuring.

“That’s right! I’m home… home….”

Heidi looked at Bruno, whose tolerance to alcohol was vast, causing him to rapidly sober up after no longer continuing to poison his body with beer, she had a questioning gaze, of which Bruno simply shook his head, before assuring her that his friend would indeed be alright.

“He will be fine… He just needs to sleep off the booze…. Now how about we all go home… I am absolutely dying to spend time with my family.”

Bruno was very clearly in as poor of a mood as Heinrich, but he refused to come home and simply go to sleep without spending time with the ones he loved. They needed to know that they were his first thought of every morning, and every night before he went to sleep.

His every waking desire while at war was to return home and be with his loved ones in peace. Sure, right now he wanted more than anything to crawl into bed, form a cacoon with his sheets, and sleep for a thousand years.

But he couldn’t do that. As a father, his family must come first, and that would always be his priority. Thus, Bruno went home, and spent the night with his family, sobering up, while eating a delicious home cooked meal by Heidi, before crawling into bed by her slide, sleeping off the overwhelming amount of alcohol he had consumed on the train trip to Berlin.

The next morning, he would only have a minor hangover, which would disappear with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. He would read all about Woodrow Wilson’s staff leaving him almost in their entirety, and the public’s opinion switching back to the Republican nominee, now that the Great War was over and the only path forward was to focus on that which had already been built over the last four years.

When Bruno saw this, he would know that America would remain isolated until least the next election in four years, meaning he had bought himself enough time to fight the smaller wars of the interwar period, while preparing for the next world war that would likely come as a result of the abysmal state which France had now found itself in.

But that was a worry for another time. For now Bruno intended to enjoy the peace which his victory had bought him.

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