Author's note: I do not own Band of Brothers, only Kate,Jim,Ben,Ken,old man Jenkins, and everyone who doesn't really exist.

Summary: My name is Katherine Mae Winters but I'm not here to talk about my autobiography and all that David Copperfield kind of crap instead I'm going to tell you something about my older brother; Richard Winters.

My Brother, Richard

My name is Katherine Mae Winters. I was born on March 16, 1924 in Lancaster County and I am the second of four children and the only girl. My younger siblings are James who's fourteen and Ben and Ken who are eleven. Each of us was born with natural red hair and everyone teased us because of it but I'm not here to talk about my autobiography and all that David Copperfield kind of crap instead I'm going to tell you something about my older brother; Richard Winters. Everyone called him 'Dick' and I'm the only one who calls him 'Rich' (which he himself suggested at.) My brother Rich is the best brother a girl could have.

I remembered when we were younger he used to read to me about Poseidon, Zeus, Pan, and every other Greek gods and goddesses. He loves to read especially Fitzgerald's novels, during High School he was in the basketball team and the wrestling team and after every game they had weather they lost or won he'd take Jim, Ben, Ken and me to town for hotdogs. By then he had developed a rivalry against the meanest kid in Lancaster County named Robert Tate. 'Big Bob' as everyone called him was six feet and three inches tall, and everyone he victimized was called a 'Bait for Tate' he had the wrestling moves that could move a tank (at least that's what old man Jenkins tells me.) During the championship when the basketball team won, we met Bob outside a bar near the hardware store, he was speaking jibberish and took a punch at Jim, it was the only time I saw my brother unable to restrain himself at the meanest kid in the county. Rich knocked the guy down and he was like a tree being cut down when he fell on the ground.

Everything changed afterwards.

In high school when Rich was already in college, I became a tomboy hanging out with guys and mom and dad were pretty confused by it. I worked in a haberdashery store where tourists went to for souvenirs and afterwards I helped with our farm. Yes sir! I worked hard and got by with school. My brother only visited during semester breaks and holidays and vacations, where he took us to that old tire swing we tied on the old oak tree years ago.

Four years passed by and Rich graduated from Franklin and Marshall College in June 1941 with a degree in science and economics. Afterwards he enlisted in the Army in August and in September he underwent basic training. I felt like he started to drift away from us when he wouldn't write home for weeks. We spent Christmas together with the family and played out in the snow, it was an everlasting memory of my brother who would soon go to war.

In 1942 he was selected to attend OCS (Officer Candidate School) which he attended and finished in July of that year. I didn't feel too well during the duration of that time, he then returned home and announced that he was joining the paratroopers. The paratroopers were a branch in the Army where they jump out of airplanes and parachute into enemy territory. This was something I did not want him to do because he could get killed or something. He sent letters home and told us all about the hard training and this mountain called Currahee that they have to run three miles up and three miles down. Rich doesn't drink or smoke and it makes me wonder what his men think of him, a Quaker? I know my own brother; he'd walk away from any of those kinds of rumors, he was smart but one thing that bothered me was that he never thought of himself and I felt like I had to remind him at times. He never went on dates with girls when he was in high school, and always cared for me and Jim and Ben and Ken's well-being. He would often say.

"Jim? If you get into any trouble you'll let me know?" He'd ask or an incident about the twins misbehaviour in class. "Ben, Ken swear to me you'll never do that again."

But that was Rich, always Mr. Perfect. You can't stop him doing such things and he was a hard worker. In college he worked in a grocery store, mowed lawns and painted electrical towers to pay for school. And the best thing about him was that he was modest about himself and was very shy around people.

The Normandy landings were what worried me the most because of the heavy artillery the Germans were shooting at them. Letters filled the mailbox during the months of 1944, and not so much in the winter of that year. Letters arrived later in 1945 saying that he was now a major and it made me proud of him. And finally when the Japanese had finally surrendered a letter arrived saying that they were leaving Europe for good. Oh, Rich if you only knew how discouraged I was to be all alone with friends who know who I am but then I was only surrounded by people who never really understood me.

The day he came home was what got me nervous, it seemed awkward to me since we haven't seen each other for about two years or so. He looked tired and seemed to need a long nap; he took utensils out of his bag telling me that it was part of Hitler's personal collection. That evening we were alone in the porch where we both sat on the swing that our father built. He suddenly pulled me in a hug and I hugged in return, and then I spoke.

"Rich? What's the best thing that's happened to you?" I asked him and he looked at me, our red hair became noticeable in the darkness.

"Having you as a sister." He replied, and I started to cry. Throughout that evening he comforted me from my misery.

"Rich, I never got to tell you…"

"What is it Kate?" He asked, wiping away my tears.

"I love you." I replied and he pulled me back into a hug.

That was my brother Rich; he has accomplished what only few can achieve and not even care about it. He was a man who was stern and at the same time passionate and caring, he did not demand respect but earned it by giving everyone around him someone to trust in battle, in peace and in life. He could care less about himself but Jim, Ben, Ken and I promised that we would never let that happened. He could have smoke or drank but he didn't. He was very modest about himself and was very shy around people. Rich, you'll always be my inspiration and I will always be your loyal soldier.

Hang tough.

So? What do you think? I know it seems to be too much but this is my first try at a B.O.B. fanfic.