Love and War

Bruce and Arthur Brennus lounged across the seats on either side of their first-class compartment as they took the train to Glasgow. 

They knew war was on the horizon, as Germany had moved its tanks into Poland right before the two men had left the base. Their commanding officer had warned them that this may be the last time they would be able to go home on leave if war broke out.

“Wanna hit the bar?” Arthur asked. “After all, we are on leave.”

“If we come home smelling of booze, Mum’ll have our heads,” Bruce warned his younger brother, trying to remain the mature older brother and higher ranking officer.

Bruce was a drill instructor and he knew they would be training a glut of new recruits when they got back to base. The last thing he wanted was for one of the potential new recruits to see him and Arthur drunk right before they had to train them. And Arthur had a bad habit of not being nearly as responsible as Bruce.

“Just one or two, I promise,” Arthur teased. “You know Ruth and Greg will have a four course meal laid out the moment we arrive. Mum’ll be sure of it.”

“I can’t wait,” Bruce smiled, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. “But only one. Bernard will be meeting us at the station,” he warned, speaking of their eleven-year-old baby brother. “We have to set a good example.”

“You set a good example,” Arthur teased. “I’ll be the cautionary tale,” he joked, bolting for the door before his brother could get a hand on him.

Train passageways were always small to begin with, but Bruce and Arthur were on the exceptional end of the size spectrum, with Bruce pushing 7’1” and Arthur just over 7’2” and beefy. The passages felt even smaller to them. They couldn’t stand up straight without hitting their heads, and they had to shuffle sideways to get to the other end of the car. They couldn’t wait to reach the dining car where they would have enough room to take a full breath.

As they approached the dining car, they could hear raucous laughter and shouting. Eight of the recruits Bruce had trained during his last cycle were at the bar, enjoying their freedom before being given new orders. Five of them were lounging quietly in a corner, talking, flirting with several young women, and laughing with their peers, but three were rather drunk and loud. None of the drunks were in uniform, and those who were remained polite and well behaved, so Bruce decided not to address it unless he had to.

He and Arthur looked around the sparsely populated dining car: two businessmen gathering their things to leave, an older couple looking uncomfortable but ignoring the idiots, and a family in the corner with three young children.

Bruce and Arthur were wearing civvies, so they quietly slipped into the empty booth between the older couple and the family. The children were well behaved and It gave them the perfect perch to step in if needed, but remain unnoticed if not. They were on leave; Bruce really didn’t feel like babysitting his recruits.

By the time the nervous waiter came over and took their order, apologising for the noise, Arthur had noticed the little girl, who was with the family, looking frightened. She was only about seven or eight and was the oldest of the children, so he pointed her out to Bruce. Seeing the fear in her large blue eyes broke Bruce’s heart. He huffed, and with a silent look, he and Arthur decided it was time to address the situation with the noisy recruits.

Bruce slipped out of the booth, and getting down on his knees so that he wasn’t quite as intimidating, smiled kindly over at the little girl.

“Those men are frightenin’ yah, aren’t they?” he asked, slipping into a Scottish accent without realising it.

Her soft blue eyes were the size of saucers behind her brown curls, but she nodded, obviously unsure what to think.

“As long as my brother ’n I er here, they’ll mind their p’s and q’s, I promise. N I’ll tell them right nue to quiet doon,” he offered. “N I can even make them leave if needs be.”

“Please, don’t start a fisticuffs on our account,” her father interrupted.

“They will not cross me, I promise,” Bruce reassured him, slipping back into King’s English. “I wasn’t planning on getting involved unless they started breaking things, but then I saw how scared the little lady looked.”

“Sir, you may be big, but there are eight of them,” her father argued, “and they’re blootered.”

“And I’m their commanding officer,” Bruce smirked. “The last thing they want is to make me angry.”

With that, Bruce stood to his full height, shoulders back, and bellowed, “Williams, Brown, Jones!”

All three snapped to attention, their eyes wide and all the laughter draining from their faces as they answered “Sir! Yes, sir!” before looking a little unsteady.

Bruce walked over to the group and glared down at them, putting on his full drill instructor persona as he addressed them.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying yourselves, but the other passengers, myself included, would like a bite and a pint in peace.” Leaning down so that he could speak more softly, he added, “And you’re scaring the children. If you make one of them cry, you’re going to have an unpleasant couple of months.”

“Sir, yes sir,” all eight said in unison.

Bruce flashed a smile and said, “At ease,” as he turned to sit back down.

The recruits relaxed back into their casual positions, but as Bruce walked away, one quietly mocked, “Wouldn’t want to frighten the bairn.”

He then heard a “thwack, thunk!” as the recruits’ table busted up laughing. He turned to see Arthur with his open hand in the air, standing over a man who had just caught himself with the table to keep from falling over.

“Don’t be an arse!” Arthur hissed, and joined Bruce. “And you. Hands,” he said, pointing at a second man who was sitting a little too close to a woman. “There are children over there.”

The man put his hands in the air and nodded as the woman put some distance between them.

“Getten’ hit by Brennus is like getten’ hit by a cricket bat,” one of their comrades jeered, roughly shoving the heckler toward the door. He then turned to Bruce, “I’ll take him back to the compartment. He won’t cause no more trouble, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Bruce nodded, looking annoyed. “Jones is going to have a rough couple weeks when we get back,” he grumbled under his breath, as Arthur snickered.

When they passed the older couple on their way back to their booth, the woman reached out her hand. It looked so tiny and frail in Bruce’s hand as he automatically took it.

“Thank you so much, dear sirs! You are a Godsend!”

“My pleasure Ma’am,” Bruce smiled, once again slipping into his Scottish accent and gently patting her hand with his other one. He then nodded to the husband as Arthur bowed his head with a friendly smile.

“Oh, you’re someone of note,” she said in surprise, as she saw Bruce’s two signet rings.

Bruce nodded in respect. “Aye Ma’am. My mum’s a Duchess and my dad’s the spare of an Earl, so I’m accustomed to handling all kinds of issues,” he winked. “I’m also a drill instructor, so I got an early start on parentin’ young men,” he joked.

“Well, thank you,” she smiled.

Just before sitting down, Bruce walked over to the family, and getting down to her level, told the little girl, “I hope that you can enjoy your meal, sweet lassie. You should never be made to feel afraid. No matter where you go in life.”

He and Arthur then sat in their own booth, where ale and crab puffs awaited them.

“Perfect timing,” Arthur said in delight, relaxing across the bench.