Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist > Cross of Iron
Hanging on a Cross of Iron
0 reviews"This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron."
2Insightful
This world in arms... is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children...
This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.
- * -
Roy was worried. Very, very worried. The mission he had sent both Lieutenant Hawkeye and Private Havoc on was a risky one. The two snipers were excellent, the best in his division, but not even they could outwit a horde of of angry bedouins.
He at least should have sent an alchemist with them.
"Don't worry," Maes Hughes said from the entrance to the tent. "Those two are the best you've got, and they're working on my people's information. Havoc's got one hell of a steady hand and an eye for ground (not to mention that he's rather creative in a pinch), and Hawkeye is smarter than most of the army brass put together and totally ruthless when she wants to be. If nothing else, they'll keep one another alive through sheer stubbornness."
"But-"
Maes sighed. "Look, Roy. They're grown soldiers. Let it go."
Bad thing to say. In a flurry of violent movement, Roy darted across the sandy floor of the tent, grabbing the fabric at Hughes' neck and pulling down sharply. "My men are not machines!" he hissed.
Hughes held up placating hands. "Hey, man. no need to get offensive. I just said that they can take care of themselves. You worrying over them won't help at all."
"I should have at least sent an alchemist with them -"
Hughes snorted at the idea, cutting Mustang off short. "Major, I can't believe you just said that. The only alchemists they can tolerate are you and that Armstrong fellow. You're the only two with any shred of decency or honor. That Havoc would have shot anyone else." His voice lowered. "Look, you did them a favor, sending them without an alchemist. You can't go, and Armstrong's out on a mission that even I don't know. The others are out or doing administrative work. The only free one is Kimbley. That explosive-happy loser would have been hamburger."
"Would've been a nice gift to the rest of the military," Roy mumbled, his mood starting to lighten.
"Roy, look." The smaller man looked up at a hand on his shoulder. "Trust your instincts. You're a bloody genius when it comes to personnel. And you've got my people backing you up with the best information in the military. Those two dumb blondes can't die unless a volcano hit them."
"Yeah, but -"
"But what? Trust me, they're not gonna die. There's no way in hell that they can die. They may come back bruised, bloody, half-dead and delirious, but they won't die." Hughes threw him a wink. "Don't forget the sheer loyalty and tenacity of tame hunting dogs, Roy. They'll be back."
"That's the thing, though," Roy said, still seizing on the negative. "Are they tame?"
Hughes answered that with a look and silence.
"All right, that was stupid of me."
"Roy, I'm going to take shameless advantage of our friendship and say something that desperately needs to be said: stop fobbing your guilt onto other people. Those two swore to follow you anywhere. They'll come back. No matter how much blood is on your hands, they'll follow you. Don't sell them short because of whatever misconception you hold for yourself."
The chow bell rang, cutting off Mustang's scathing reply. Hughes nodded, grinned, and saluted. "I'll bring you something in from the line. Just sit tight and try to destress, all right?"
----------------------------------------------------------------
a/n: all quotes at the beginning of the chapters are from President Dwight D. Eisenhower's Chance for Peace (Cross of Iron) Speech in 1953, edited to fit the story. The complete speech (highly recommended) can be found at https://ideotrope.org/index.pl?node_id=23495
This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.
- * -
Roy was worried. Very, very worried. The mission he had sent both Lieutenant Hawkeye and Private Havoc on was a risky one. The two snipers were excellent, the best in his division, but not even they could outwit a horde of of angry bedouins.
He at least should have sent an alchemist with them.
"Don't worry," Maes Hughes said from the entrance to the tent. "Those two are the best you've got, and they're working on my people's information. Havoc's got one hell of a steady hand and an eye for ground (not to mention that he's rather creative in a pinch), and Hawkeye is smarter than most of the army brass put together and totally ruthless when she wants to be. If nothing else, they'll keep one another alive through sheer stubbornness."
"But-"
Maes sighed. "Look, Roy. They're grown soldiers. Let it go."
Bad thing to say. In a flurry of violent movement, Roy darted across the sandy floor of the tent, grabbing the fabric at Hughes' neck and pulling down sharply. "My men are not machines!" he hissed.
Hughes held up placating hands. "Hey, man. no need to get offensive. I just said that they can take care of themselves. You worrying over them won't help at all."
"I should have at least sent an alchemist with them -"
Hughes snorted at the idea, cutting Mustang off short. "Major, I can't believe you just said that. The only alchemists they can tolerate are you and that Armstrong fellow. You're the only two with any shred of decency or honor. That Havoc would have shot anyone else." His voice lowered. "Look, you did them a favor, sending them without an alchemist. You can't go, and Armstrong's out on a mission that even I don't know. The others are out or doing administrative work. The only free one is Kimbley. That explosive-happy loser would have been hamburger."
"Would've been a nice gift to the rest of the military," Roy mumbled, his mood starting to lighten.
"Roy, look." The smaller man looked up at a hand on his shoulder. "Trust your instincts. You're a bloody genius when it comes to personnel. And you've got my people backing you up with the best information in the military. Those two dumb blondes can't die unless a volcano hit them."
"Yeah, but -"
"But what? Trust me, they're not gonna die. There's no way in hell that they can die. They may come back bruised, bloody, half-dead and delirious, but they won't die." Hughes threw him a wink. "Don't forget the sheer loyalty and tenacity of tame hunting dogs, Roy. They'll be back."
"That's the thing, though," Roy said, still seizing on the negative. "Are they tame?"
Hughes answered that with a look and silence.
"All right, that was stupid of me."
"Roy, I'm going to take shameless advantage of our friendship and say something that desperately needs to be said: stop fobbing your guilt onto other people. Those two swore to follow you anywhere. They'll come back. No matter how much blood is on your hands, they'll follow you. Don't sell them short because of whatever misconception you hold for yourself."
The chow bell rang, cutting off Mustang's scathing reply. Hughes nodded, grinned, and saluted. "I'll bring you something in from the line. Just sit tight and try to destress, all right?"
----------------------------------------------------------------
a/n: all quotes at the beginning of the chapters are from President Dwight D. Eisenhower's Chance for Peace (Cross of Iron) Speech in 1953, edited to fit the story. The complete speech (highly recommended) can be found at https://ideotrope.org/index.pl?node_id=23495
Sign up to rate and review this story