Chapter 1: Transferred
Forty days on the front. That was how long the Rangers had been in Normandy and how long she had managed to stick with them much to her PRO's dislike. Hell, she shouldn't have been allowed to be there in the first place- it was only due to the saving graces of the officers she had known in North Africa that kept her from jail or worse, losing her accreditation.
Gwen sighed as she cleaned her Kodak 35MM camera off. Some of the men in the battalion thought she was insanely picky with the pieces of equipment that was her life and job in the ETO. Every chance she got was a minute to check all five still cameras she had, especially her prized Kodak. They loved her for it though. It was a quirk with constant teasing abilities especially with those in Charlie Company.
From her seat on the hood of the Willie's jeep the War Correspondent watched the group of German prisoners the 5th Ranger Battalion had been assigned to keep tabs on. Even if they were supposed to be partly in reserve for rest, replacements, and training, they were on watch. With the threat of German retaliation from the Channel, the companies took turns watching the sea then back inland to watch the prisoners, then more training . . . it was a never-ending circle Gwen found relentless.
"I hear you guys found a little pocket of resistance on the last patrol," the voice of the man beside of her was amused like it always was. That little hint of a hidden joke always seeming to hide somewhere under all the words and thought of any conversations he had. Sergeant Andrew Parks was a really interesting man.
Snorting slightly, Gwen raised a dirty right hand to push back stray locks of auburn hair. "Just a little. I don't think my PRO will hear about the photos I was able to snap. Quite sure the Cap's are going to keep it on the down-low too." Pausing once she again looked up at the Germans behind the makeshift barbed wire fence. They knew not to leave. Not one had even made an attempt at escape. It was the fact, however, that most of them were closer to their own ages that still surprised her. Kids, really.
Parks managed a small shrug of his shoulders before moving to lean against the jeep beside of her. "You guys were lucky. We lost two from Able and three from Item within an hour of you guys setting out." The information shocked her. Twenty-two percent had been lost on the landings on June 6 and the Rangers were on reserve. They shouldn't be dying now because, in their shared minds, the first hurdle was over.
Sensing her shiver slightly made the Sergeant from Headquarters frown. "Like I said. You guys were lucky. Maybe it's having you around that makes it that way . . . "
The two had become instant friends when they had met at Camp Forrest when the 5th Battalion was being formed. If it wasn't for their jobs and the threat of war, no doubt the two would have become more. Her cheeks flushed red through the dirt and grim that was on them. "Andrew . . . "
"I know, I know," he started, grinning a little goofy smile up at her. Even with his dirty face the man still had that boyish charm that made her want to pinch his cheeks, "Can't fault a guy for trying, can ya?"
Gwen was about to reply when she saw another figure approaching. Instead she made a soft psst-ing sound, nudging Andrew with her boot. Instantly the man stood a little taller and a salute to the approaching Captain.
"MacKenzie, Sergeant Parks, glad to see you both keeping an eye on our friends." Captain Tim Wells was a good Company commander. All the men in Headquarters looked up to him and felt like they could approach him with anything. He, like a few of the other officers and non-coms, had served with the 1st Ranger Battalion in North Africa before being transferred. Gwen was thankful her request for transfer with them had been backed by his (along with a few other officers) approval.
Andrew managed a lopsided grin, eyes darting over to the Germans then back to his commanding officer. "All in a day's work, sir. Say, Cap. Any idea when we're moving out?"
"Until Battalion tells me otherwise, Sergeant, we're here for a while. Enjoy it while it lasts." Pausing only slightly Captain Wells' tone changed in an instant going from friendly banter to all business in a heartbeat. "Parks, may I have a word with our WarCo? Alone?" A glance was shared between Andrew and Gwen causing her to gulp. Maybe her PRO had found out after all. "I'll see you later, ok? Want to see how some of those photos of yours are turning out."
With a little nod Gwen watched the Sergeant move away before green eyes flickered down to her Captain who was making sure Parks was well enough away before turning back to her. "I hate to be the one to do this, Gwen. Battalion brass seems to have turned their eyes upon you." Carefully she started to pack the Kodak camera back into its leather case. "It just happened, Captain. I know according to my accreditation I'm not supposed to shoot actual battle scenes but it was just too good to pass up. If Battalion wants the film turned over . . . can I at least make some copies first?"
This caught the officer off guard as well as drew a little smile across his face. "Yes, well, that hadn't been placed into the report so I better not see any of those photographs unless you intend to share them with us." Again, he paused a little longer this time almost as if the words were hard to say. "We received word from Battalion while you were out with the patrol that new orders had come through. Regiment has tried everything looking for a loophole and has come up blank. Gwen . . . You're being transferred out."
It was like she had been hit in the gut quite similar to the times she had played football with her older brothers back home. Hit, tackled, and rolled a few times followed by a switching from her mom and a half-hearted lecture from her dad. He, at least, was amused at her games with the older boys. She wanted to cry at the words like when the switch would hit her legs. She had promised that, no matter what, they would never see her cry again. Ever. "What . . . why?"
Captain Wells frowned and seemed to fidget with the cuff of his m41 jacket. "It was nothing you did in the wrong, Gwen. Lord knows we have been trying to fight this tooth-and-nail, but the uppers won't budge. Seems like you have been doing too good a job and they want you with the Airborne." Airborne. The word was almost spit out.
This also caused her skin to prickle. Airborne. She had seen how the two different groups had clashed in England over jump boots all the way down to who had the better training. So far she had avoided seeing to many stray little puppies in Normandy and she was quite thankful for it. Snorting slightly she frowned enough to show her displeasure with the second punch of the news. "82nd or 101st?"
"I have no idea . . . All I know is that you are to be prepared to leave in five hours to get back to the beach. You'll get further orders once you get back to England."
"What?" Sliding off the jeep, Gwen landed with a thump on the ground. Which was a bad idea with the way her heels were starting to throb. "Five hours is hardly enough time to get anything done let alone goodbyes and packing! Sir, it's at least a 3-hour drive to the beach head!" Wells nodded, "We'll stall as much as we can, but you should know we can't keep them tied up forever."
Nodding only slightly, Gwen kept her teeth clamped shut hard enough to keep the wanted scream down. The Springfield .45 in her musette bag itched at her to grab and find the man that signed the order. How dare they move her! "I...better go and get everything together. Wouldn't want you guys to get into more trouble over little old me."
Reaching out Wells touched her arm lightly. "Remember. Five hours. Three hours max- we may be able to buy you another hour to a half hour."
Once she had her back to the Captain she raised her hands to scrub at her red eyes. Three years had been devoted to the Rangers over two different Battalions. She was there when the 5th was conceived, watched the men go through their training and had forged friendships that not even a war could tear apart . . . and now they were asking her to give up all her trust for another group of men she knew nothing about? Gwen didn't know what to do more: cry at her loss or throw a tantrum. Of course, she knew none of them would help the situation.
A parked halftrack close to the tents thankfully kept her hidden from passers-by, for the most part, as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. Turning she managed one sharp kick at the huge rubber tire while her right fisted hand hit the metal door with a loud thud. No scream would come though. Just quiet sobs and tears of frustration for the civilian War Correspondent.
"Hey- no reason to beat that hunk of junk up," Andrew's words were soft, "We may need it later." Gently he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. What bit of a smile he had soon slipped away at the sight of her tear stained cheeks. "What happened?" Gwen opened her mouth to speak again only to be overwhelmed by sobs. Moving forward, she buried her face against his dirty uniform unable to tell him that she was leaving and soon.
September 17 found the town of Aldbourne in those lazy days going into the fall. Warm days and cool nights prompted the residents and men of the 506th to wear slightly warmer clothing; their spirits were high much thanks to the rumors of Berlin by Christmas. No one paid attention to that sort of thing but Captain Richard Winters. Thankfully the town was empty for the most part. With a week long passes and back pay in their pockets most of his men were off to London or the surrounding areas for much deserved and needed breaks. He, however, was engulfed with paperwork befitting his position as a Company commander along with trying to get used to being back on familiar ground which was proving to be difficult.
The first few nights back had proven rather . . . interesting. When sound asleep on his cot within the Barnes' house the local church bell which had been a comforting sound prior to the invasion of Europe sent him sprawling to the floor. It was only slightly embarrassing after the first five times since his foster family no longer asked when he would come down in the morning about the circles under his eyes or the stiffness in his neck. Thankfully they understood the situation, unlike
his best friend, Lewis Nixon.
As Dick reached up to rub at the back of his neck, the man beside of him couldn't help but notice. "Not sleep good again last night?" Nix asked beside of them as they walked down the main street in Aldbourne, his typical cigarette dangling from his lips this time unlit. His answer was a small disgruntled sound. "Ahh you'll get over it eventually. Or I could drag you to London and make you forget it, Dick. Hear the boys are enjoying themselves quite a bit."
Dick just grunted again as he looked the paperwork in his hands over. He was hearing all about how his soldiers were enjoying London as well as how the MP's were earning their pay handling them. "No thanks, Lew. Maybe a day or two from paperwork, but I'm staying here. Most of Easy
won't be back for a week so I intend to enjoy the quiet here than doing too much more traveling."
Nix just snorted once already fumbling for a lighter in one of his pockets. "Oh. Guess I should congratulate you on acquiring the 506th's latest addition?"
"About what? My official promotion went through four days ago." The perplexed look on the Captain's face almost made Lew snark a laugh. Thankfully, his cigarette was in his hands. "Ahh I see Sink hasn't told you yet?"
The pair stopped at the crossroads in town allowing a horse-drawn cart to pass along filled with hay going toward the farms on the outskirts of town. It's jingling harness along with the clop of hooves on the cobblestone seemed to make Dick uneasy. Yes, a break would be nice. "Um, no? Or hasn't it been that obvious yet."
"Rumor has it Easy is getting a war correspondent attached to it." Nix's look was one of a sly cat dangling a piece of cheese in front of a starving mouse. He loved to taunt his friends in Easy with the information he always knew before they did. It always seemed to bother Harry Welsh the most.
"A war correspondent. I thought we already had a few attached to the 506th prior to D-day?" When the street was cleared they crossed, Dick already starting to forget the papers in his hands.
Lew just couldn't resist in letting his grin grow even wider. "Signal corpsmen and civilian war correspondents are two different things, Dick. This WarCo will actually have slightly more privileges than what the standard Army guys has so we need to get you ready for whatever
pestering questions she will no doubt have."
Dick had his mouth open ready to reply when the last few words nearly caught him off guard. Stopping in his tracks, the newly prompted Captain narrowed his eyes slightly. "She? You mean we are getting a female war correspondent?"
The two friends stared at each other for a minute as Nixon finally fished the lighter out of his jacket pocket. With a few flicks of his finger the zippo lighter came to life giving him ample time to get the cigarette lit and the question linger a moment longer. Finally he had to say something, "Jesus Christ, Dick, it's almost like you didn't know they were floating about the Army."
In return part of the answer was a half smirk, something Dick was famous for with his fellow officers. "No," he replied dryly, "I knew they were just didn't know the Airborne was starting to let them in is all. Thought they were doing pretty well with the infantry. I don't want to have to play babysitter here, Nix. I got a Company to run."
"New concepts, my friend." Slowly a puff of smoke escaped from the corners of Nixon's mouth. "It's all about new concepts."
