PURPLE HEART, RED CROSS & GREEN ARROWS

A/N: Hi! Here is my new story for the new year. It's an alternate universe Arrow/Olicity historical war fic set during the Second World War in the Pacific, specifically in the Philippines. This is the first time I am embarking in a somewhat "dark" action-drama, so please bear with me. There won't be as much fluff as angst, even if there will definitely be romance in the midst of chaos and and a lot of suffering. I am not much of a war movie fan, although I have appreciated a handful done by Spielberg, etc., but this concept for an Arrow fic wouldn't leave me alone. So yeah, even if this will be quite challenging to write because of all the readings and research that I will have to put into it, I'm taking the plunge. I hope you will choose to continue on this journey with me until the end of the story.

Word of warning though. There will be character deaths and descriptions/mentions of war-related violence because, of course, it's a war fic, and that's why this is rated T, which is a first for me. There will, however, be no gory stuff, and no foul language or smut.

This story is also specially dedicated to Mellovesall, whose historical fics have given me such amazing reading pleasure and inspiration for writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own ARROW, its characters, or its story - only the idea for this fic. I only wish I did.

Chapter 1: LEFT FOR DEAD

April 12, 1942

Several miles from Orion, Bataan

The Philippines

The sound of crickets wakes him at last. The first thing he feels is pain. Excruciating pain. But he doesn't know where it is coming from, and he doesn't remember what happened. He is in shock. All he knows is that he has never felt so much agony in his life – even as a soldier who had survived the rigors of boot camp and infantry training, has seen action more than once in China, and has been fighting a losing battle with his American and Filipino comrades against the invading Japanese forces for the last three months. He is a marine, and he is supposed to be tough. He is. But the agony he feels the moment he regains consciousness is too much for any man to bear. He wishes no one else was there to hear him cry and call out the name of his mother and… his girl. He whispers a prayer to the God that he had been taught to believe in since he was a boy, and then he passes out again.

Oliver Queen lay in prone position in the middle of a parched rice field in the dead of night. There are other soldiers, mostly Filipinos, scattered a few meters away along the road, but those are no longer bodies. They were corpses.

When the Battle of Bataan was lost three days ago, American and Filipino troops Commander Maj. Gen. King surrendered to the Japanese army under the command of Col. Nakayama. The Japanese had already taken Manila last December and forced the Philippine president and his family, other key Filipino and American government and military leaders first to evacuate to Corregidor Island and then to flee the country, and just a month ago, Gen. Douglas MacArthur, commander of the United States Army Forces in the Far East, had left Corregidor for Mindanao where he and his compatriots were flown to Australia, with the promise to return to liberate the Philippine islands from Japanese occupation. The 4th Marine Regiment, which Oliver and his fellow marines belonged to, had been moved to Corregidor Island weeks ago, but his battalion was sent to reinforce the fast-depleting USAFFE troops left in the Bataan Peninsula that were valiantly fighting hard against the relentless barrage and bombings by the advancing Japanese troops. He and his closest friends and brothers-at-arms, Privates John Diggle and Thomas Merlyn, were among the 75,000 Filipino and American soldiers that became prisoners of war in the hands of the Japanese imperial army.

The Japanese had underestimated the number of prisoners that had surrendered, and there were not enough trucks to transport three times the expected number of American and Filipino soldiers to the camps in Central Luzon. The very next day, Oliver, Tommy, and John learned that they were all going on a 65-mile trek in groups of about 100 prisoners at a time from Mariveles, the town where all prisoners had been rounded up, to San Fernando, Pampanga where they were supposed to be transported by rail to the prison camp in Capas, Tarlac. They were part of the third group of a hundred men that left Mariveles on foot, after they were all ordered to turn over their weapons and personal possessions.

During the shakedown, they were made to empty their pockets, pulling them wrong side out, and to lay all items on the ground in front of them. The Japanese were taking jewelry, watches, and other valuable personal effects, slapping and hitting those that tried to resist or withhold things that they considered hard to part with. One Japanese guard even knocked a prisoner's tooth out for gold fillings.

They were a hundred men, so it took the Japanese guards some time to get to all of them. Oliver and his friends were sitting down on the ground towards the end of the long line of prisoners when they noticed the commotion up ahead. The Japanese guards had singled out an American officer, a Filipino officer, and three Filipino soldiers. Those prisoners were brought to a nearby rice shack near some trees. A couple of minutes later, shots were heard and only the Japanese guards returned to resume the shakedown. As word spread down the line of prisoners, Oliver and his friends learned that the prisoners who had been executed were found to have been in possession of Japanese money and souvenirs. They surmised that the Japanese must have seen it as an occasion to exact vengeance on their white enemies that had subdued some of their comrades during the Battle of Bataan and taken their valuables and belongings.

It was then that Oliver knew he had to protect the most precious possession he had on him. It wasn't the last few peso bills and coins he had left in his jacket pocket. It wasn't the gold watch that his father had given him on his 18th birthday. It wasn't the pocket New Testament that his mother had given him and made him promise to keep in his combat uniform at all times as if it would protect him from that fatal bullet that would break her heart beyond repair. It was the engagement ring – the one he had saved up from his soldier's pay in the last few years ever since he had decided that she was the one. He had wanted to buy her the real thing – 24K princess cut diamond set on a golden band, not too big, but not too small for people not to notice how much she means to him. He had their names engraved on the inner side of the band – "Oliver & Felicity, always."

Oliver couldn't and wouldn't let the ring fall into enemy hands. Not even if she had already turned him down on his proposal for marriage, not once but twice. She hadn't broken up with him, but she had refused to marry him both times he had asked, because she said that it wasn't the right time yet with the war and all. He will never see her again, thanks to this horrific, reprehensible war. But since he had lost the picture of her that he had carried around with him since his deployment to the Philippines, it was his last token of remembrance of the woman that had captured his heart; it was the only thing left to remind him of the love they had once shared. So he did not hesitate, even if he knew his plan was crazy, even if he knew it would hurt literally, and even if he was unsure it would actually work. He removed the ring from his dog tag and swallowed it, hoping that somehow, he would be able to retrieve it later on when the shakedown was over, when it was (hopefully) safer. His gold watch had been taken (gambled over by a few guards, actually), and his New Testament had been thrown away, but Felicity's ring was safe inside him.

Upon John's suggestion, Oliver and he exchanged dog tags to throw off the Japanese and conceal Oliver's rank as 2nd Lieutenant. John thought that it would be better for Oliver not to attract attention to himself as an officer and end up like the American officer that had been executed earlier. John also reasoned that when they get to the prison camp, officers would most likely be interrogated or even subjected to torture for the Japanese to gain vital information on American military intelligence. At first, Oliver vehemently refused his friend's offer to trade places with him; he wouldn't dare put his dear friend in danger for the sake of self-preservation. The only thing that finally convinced him was the prospect of guilt if and when he succumbs to torture and gives up everything he knows as an officer of the Marine Corps under duress.

They had been marching for two days straight under the intense heat of the tropical summer sun with little or no food and water. Prisoners who had already been previously wounded were dropping dead one by one during the long, arduous trek by day and night, and those that were not injured but extremely demoralized were losing the will to persevere as well. Prisoners were beaten or hit with rifles when they stopped to rest or asked for water. They were subjected to "sun treatment," forced to sit under the direct, sweltering heat of the sun at noontime without helmets or head coverings. Some were even made to strip naked or made to sit near a fresh, cool body of water that they were not allowed to drink from. The brutality increased by the day, and those who fought back were physically abused and even killed. Those who were too sick or weak to continue walking were shot or stabbed with bayonets. Cleanup crews came with trucks to pick up some of those who could no longer walk, but there were incidents when those same vehicles were used to drive over prisoners who had fallen or given in to so much fatigue or unbearable suffering.

The inhumane acts of physical and mental abuse enraged Oliver and his friends, but they couldn't do anything that would even matter or change things. On the third day of the march, when Tommy tried to defend a fellow American soldier, who stumbled and couldn't get up, a Japanese guard shot him in the back and stabbed him with a bayonet in the thigh. Tommy survived for half a day under the care of John, who had had some training as a medic, but without medical supplies and proper nourishment, John could only do so much. Tommy was forced to keep marching, flanked by Oliver and John who supported him with his arms around their shoulders, picking him up each time he fell. Oliver kept telling Tommy not to give up, reassuring his childhood friend that he would make it to the prison camp alive where they would demand treatment for his wounds.

When Tommy fell once more to his knees and could no longer stand up, the Japanese guard that had previously shot him, hit him hard on the head with the butt of a rifle and knocked him down on the ground. Oliver yelled in anger, citing in vain the provisions of the Geneva Convention regarding the human treatment of prisoners of war. His appeals fell on deaf ears, even the ears of a couple of Japanese guards who understood a little English. Just as the cruel Japanese guard was about to finish off Tommy with his rifle, Oliver made a daring move to protect his friend and he ended up getting shot and stabbed himself. John tried to help his friends, but he was immediately restrained by the other guards and beaten. The last thing Oliver remembered hearing before he blacked out completely were John's screams and the shot that had finally ended Tommy's life. Oliver had been left for dead.

But he didn't die.

By some miracle or act of God, Oliver is still breathing – severely injured, but alive.

He awakes once more at the crack of dawn, this time due to hunger and thirst, and the buzzing sounds of flies and mosquitoes hovering near him. It's as if his body has grown numb to the pain of the bullet wound on his right side and the gaping wound caused by the bayonet stab on his hip. He tries to open his eyes slowly, but he finds that even the small movement of his eyelids is painful, as his tears had dried up overnight and crusted along his lashes. When he finally opens his eyes, he is blinded even by just the faint glow of sunrise. He lets his eyes scan his immediate surroundings and realizes that he is in the middle of a rice field. The place is deserted. He is somehow able to move his head and look at the opposite direction. He sees afar off the bodies of some prisoners, and he comes to realize that he is alive and they are dead. He suddenly remembers what had happened yesterday afternoon. He slowly recalls the grueling events that had happened in the last several weeks and in the past few days since they had been taken captive by the Japanese.

Unmoving, he cries once again for his fallen comrades. He cries for his best friend. Tommy is gone. He tries to come to terms with this very sad reality, but his grief is mixed with anger and disillusionment. "Is war really worth it? Worth losing the ones you love and care for?" he ponders in despair. And what of John? He wonders if his other good friend had made it, or if he too had suffered the same fate as Tommy. He may never know, he figures. Especially not if he dies out there.

If he dies.

Oliver ponders for a while, forgetting how thirsty and hungry he is. He hasn't eaten anything in three days except for the crackers he had shared with John and Tommy when they were still in Mariveles, and half a canteen of water that had run out on the second day of the march. He takes a few moments to consider his chances of survival as he endured the anguish of body and mind that is threatening to snuff out the faint glimmer of hope that remains in his soul. "Is there anything left for me to live for?" he asks himself.

The combined forces of the Americans and Filipinos had lost the battle. Oliver knows that it is just a matter of time before the remaining troops that took their final stand in Corregidor would fall, too. Those valiant men taking their final stand in the island are too tired to fight on by this time, most of them not having slept for close to a week, and almost entirely overcome by the dread of dying anytime at the hands of the imperial Japanese troops.

Oliver has lost Tommy, perhaps even John. But the worst loss he is still grieving over is the loss of Felicity. He had been raised as a God-fearing Methodist, but at the memory of the news of his beloved's demise during the bombings that hit Bataan a few days ago (which he had received from their friend Caitlyn Snow before she left with the other nurses for Corregidor to tend to the wounded), Oliver curses with all his might. He hates the Japanese and the cruelty they utilize to advance their imperialist agenda. He hates this war. He hates the smell of death and suffering around him. He cries out to the God he's always believed in, asking why – if He is truly a loving and powerful God – He is allowing human beings to do horrific things to fellow human beings in exchange for power and control.

Just when he thinks he has lost everything because he will never be able to have a life with the woman he loves, images of his family flash across his mind. He sees his father Robert – decorated officer of the United States Navy who retired honorably early in his military career after sustaining a serious injury during World War I – standing proud at his graduation from the Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego, California. He sees his mother Moira, sending him off to war with a warm, loving embrace and whispering in his ear, "Come back to us in one piece, my beautiful boy." He sees his younger sister Thea, making him pinky-promise to come home safe as an American hero. His family gives him hope. And if only he could go home and see them again, Oliver is willing to stay alive.

If only for the goal of testifying to the brutal atrocities of the inhumane "death march" that he and his fellow soldiers experienced before a war crimes court when this war is finally over, he is willing to fight to stay alive. The world needs to know what happened here. The families of the fallen – including Tommy, John, and Felicity – need reassurance that their loved ones did not die in vain, that their husbands, sons, brothers, and daughters died as heroes and martyrs in the hands of the enemy. Future generations need to understand that courage and sacrifice are not cheap, and that the freedom and liberty enjoyed by many comes at the cost of too many human lives – too significant to take for granted.

Never mind if he returns to Starling City damaged and defeated. Winning the war and carrying out the orders of his superiors are no longer his mission. Survival is.

A/N: The Fall of Bataan on April 9, 1942 is commemorated in my country every year as an official public holiday called "Araw ng Kagitingan" (Day of Valor or Bravery). The day after that infamous day when American and Filipino troops surrendered to the Japanese imperialist army marked the beginning of the Bataan Death March which lasted until April 17th. 75,000 American and Filipino prisoners of war marched 65 miles from Bataan to Pampanga provinces to be transferred by rail to the prison camps. Thousands perished because of starvation, sickness, beatings, torture, and murder/execution before, during, and after the march. It wasn't until January 1944 that the U.S. government made the story of the Death March public in America, which had incited outrage. When American forces returned as promised by Gen. Douglas MacArthur and liberated the Philippines with the aid of the Filipino armed forces and guerilla movement, the Allied forces arrested Gen. Masaharu Homma and indicted him for war crimes in 1945, including the atrocious Death March, for which he was found guilty and was sentenced to death by firing squad in 1946.

Years ago, I found out from my mother and grandmother about how my late grandfather, a WWII veteran, had gone through the Death March and survived the war. When he was alive and I was still little, he didn't speak of the war at all, only saying that he wished that none of us would have to ever experience war times in our lifetimes. After the war he rose the ranks and became a Brigadier General of the Philippine Armed Forces, and later on in his life, even pursued a career in Law and taught in the university. Unfortunately, he died of cancer in the 1980s, and I never got to talk to him about the war when it became our topic in History in high school later on.

The stories and experiences that I shall use to write this fic are, therefore, based on research and readings of historical accounts and true stories of the Battle of Bataan, the Battle of Corregidor, the Bataan Death March, the Japanese occupation, and the liberation of the Philippines - not actual stories from people I know personally. If some of you will find errors in the historical details I incorporate into the plot, I apologize in advance. I am an amateur to this sort of thing. If you want to know more about the American troops that surrendered to the Japanese and became POWs in the Philippines during the occupation, you may want to watch the movie The Great Raid (2005).

I hope you will find this story not only entertaining but also thought-provoking and inspiring. And as any fic writer will appreciate, it would be nice to receive reviews from you from time to time. Do let me know what you think. Thank you for clicking on this story, and I hope you will follow it as it progresses. Blessings to you!