Flooney Island 1940

Chazot

When Andreas regained consciousness, the pain throughout his body made him gasp sharply. He found himself lying on a plank, drifting in the vast ocean. His clothes were torn and charred, and wounds were bleeding out. The sunlight was piercingly bright, causing him to squint and scan his surroundings. To his surprise, there was land not far away.

Setting aside his pain, Andreas removed his shirt, discarding all items that could reveal his identity. He then clung to the wooden plank and started swimming towards the land. It seemed close, yet it took him hours to reach, exhausting him completely by the time his feet touched the shore. This was the hope of survival. He let out a cold laugh, thinking that a captain should go down with his ship, yet here he was, miraculously alive.

"Leston," he murmured the name, imagining the major's carefree smile. Lying weakly on the beach, he gazed up, reaching towards the sky as if touching the face of his departed friend.

The Kastelin light cruiser was sunk on May 19, 1940, in the south-central maritime zone of France.

"Leon... Leon..."

Someone was gently shaking him. Struggling to open his eyes, Andreas saw a delicate and beautiful face, eerily familiar, with brown curly hair, moist eyes, and an anxious expression, all under a sky tinged red by the evening glow. Gentle waves caressed his feet as he lay on the beach, slowly realizing he was still alive.

Momentarily dazed, he instinctively uttered a name, "Fiona..."

The girl's eyes widened, almost crying with joy, "It's really you, my Leon! Oh God, I can hardly believe it... you're hurt, let me take you home!"

"Where is this?" After a challenging journey from the beach, they reached Fiona's cliffside cabin. The colonel had no memory of such an island, and looking at the French girl, he was at a loss for words.

She was Fiona.

Her lover, the resilient French navy captain, had sunk with his Kastelin into the cold Atlantic.

And he, by the sea's whims, was brought to this island, to his lover's girl.

What sort of coincidence was this?

The colonel closed his eyes, feeling a pang in his heart.

"Funi Island, Leon, it's normal you don't know it; it’s kept hidden from everyone. Remember I told you I wanted to go somewhere with Chazot? It’s here. I thought I'd never see you again, Leon." Fiona was treating Andreas's wounds with a bottle of medicine, "The sea took you away and also brought you back. I marvel at this miracle, but I believe it's God's will."

Fiona's touch was gentle, and Andreas, bare-chested, earnestly observed her. She seemed to have no suspicion of him, perhaps blinded by love. But this was only a matter of time; he didn't know Leon, nor did he know Fiona, let alone the Chazot Fiona mentioned. He was utterly clueless. Andreas knew he couldn't reveal his true identity now; this strange French island was too dangerous for him. He needed to figure everything out first.

"Fiona, I've been badly hurt. A steel plate hit my head during the fleet's explosion," Andreas spoke in fluent French, which was impeccable, without any accent.

Fiona gently brushed his hair, "I see it, there’s a small cut the size of a little finger. I’ll bandage it for you, Leon. I learned a lot of nursing skills; I wanted to go to the front line, but Chazot wouldn’t allow it. You know, he's always so protective of me."

"Is he still here?" Andreas followed up on her words.

"Yes, Leon. He's here, but he seldom comes; Chazot is always busy. But he assured me, it’s safe here." Fiona’s eyes sparkled like a doe's, "I think he'll be thrilled to see you. Leon, he likes you even more than he likes me."

Andreas forced a stiff smile; the situation seemed quite unfavorable for him.

"My memory feels a bit fuzzy," he said, bowing his head to let Fiona bandage him better.

"It’s normal, Leon. They taught us in nursing school that memory could be significantly affected for a short while after a severe head impact. But—" Fiona leaned in close, leaving a gentle kiss on Andreas’s cheek, "you recognized me the moment you opened your eyes, after nearly a year, my dear, I’ve missed you so much."

Her crystal lips met his, and Andreas, momentarily startled, responded to her kiss.

"I missed you too, Fiona. The front lines are always tense."

Fiona frowned slightly, standing up with a sigh, "Yes, those Germans are fierce, and the situation is very bad now. "What's he doing here?" he asked casually.

"I don't know," Fiona replied, slicing a baguette. "You know he never lets us in on his plans. My movements here are limited; there are places I can't go. Leon, I'm suffocating here, take me back to the mainland."

Andreas speculated internally that it must be the intelligence department. Such secrecy was typical of intelligence operatives, always shrouded in mystery, whether towards their family or friends. Fiona approached with slices of baguette, topped with some ham.

"Leon, sorry, this is all we have. There's never enough food."

"It's quite alright, Fiona, thank you."

Andreas began to eat the sliced baguette. He was never fond of French cuisine, but at that moment, the dry bread seemed delicious. He was too hungry and too tired. As his physical strength slightly returned, the pain in his heart became more pronounced.

His Kastelin, his close friend, his crew of over a thousand men, his first complete and utter defeat in his military career. It was all due to his pride and arrogance; if he had only thought one step further, perhaps he wouldn't have fallen into the enemy's trap.

Yet, he couldn't fathom why the enemy was so certain they would go to pick up Leston. Not to mention that they had received the secret orders directly from naval headquarters, Leston's real identity was also a secret within the German military.

To believe that a fleet would change its course for a mere major seemed like too big a gamble.

A headache started to pound in Andreas's temples. He decided to set aside these thoughts and finish the bread in front of him.

"Leon, you seem so much more weathered..." Fiona sat beside him, resting her chin in her hand, observing him. Before she could finish her sentence, a crisp voice rang out.

"Fiona!"

A young and radiant major, clear as the shallow waters of a tropical sea, pushed open the wooden door. He stood at the entrance, holding a bunch of flowers and tucking several baguettes under his arm. His crisp military uniform made him look spirited, but his bright smile froze the moment he saw Andreas.

Andreas was stunned, and he saw the major's brown eyes rapidly narrow, his right hand moving down towards the sidearm at his waist.