Hello :)

This is not based off of the actual men that are mentioned this fiction, only concerning the actors in the miniseries. No disrespect or dishonor is intended in this piece. All rights go to their respective owners.

And, a few sincere and huge "thank you"s to …

My beta, Scratchy Wilson, who with constructive criticism, meticulous and thorough editing and research, and the patience of God to walk through my mind, has helped me to shape and perfect my plot to its final product.

The men of E company. Your sacrifice and service will always be remembered and respected to all who know your story.

Finally, my grandfather who served in the 82nd Airborne.

Let the show begin.

Chapter 1: Little Problems

February 9, 1945

France

Lillian walked into what the men told her was E company CP. Apparently, the man she had to find would more than likely be found there. She couldn't believe she'd report to him though. Lillian knew that he had joined the Army before Pearl Harbor, but she never thought he would fly up the ranks to captain, or even be in the paratroopers. Then again, she never thought she'd travel to two other continents before she turned twenty-five. There was a pale, exhausted, sickly man lying on a couch, a blanket covering him. Another was sitting in a chair, and there was another, smoking a cigarette, sorting through boxes. The final one was a replacement. She could tell he was new, despite the fact that she was new here as well, because his face was clean and clear. He didn't even look old enough to shave, and he had that serious aura about him, trying to make sure he was doing everything according to protocol. She knew, at this point, she had been in the war far longer than she ever expected to or assumed she would be. As she walked through the doorway, she removed her helmet and carried it under the crook of her free arm, letting her low ponytail fall down.

"Hello, this is E company CP, correct?"

"Oh Jesus, more—" the one smoking commented angrily, his back to her. But when he turned around and saw who it was, he began to stammer, wide-eyed, "Oh, holy sh—mackerel. Sir, I mean, uh, ma'am—"

He probably wasn't sure he was seeing what was in front of him. She couldn't blame him. Almost every man she came into contact had a similar reaction. The others were as equally surprised to see an American woman and in uniform. However, upon seeing her rank, they were all getting up to salute her.

"Lieutenant Jenkins. As you were," she greeted.

"Is there something we can do for you, Lieutenant?" the one on the couch asked, slowly pushing the blanket away to get up.

"Lay back down, please. You look awful," Lillian said to him, going over to him and gently pulling the blanket over his body. "You really should be in a bed if you have any." He was back in his original position as Lillian continued to make him comfortable, giving him a pillow and adjusting his blanket.

"I'm trying to be useful."

"Trying to be useful at this point is to rest and get better. You want to go back to the front line anytime soon? You need to recuperate. Especially since you have pneumonia, you don't want the other men catching it," Lillian said, standing straighter.

"She's good, Lip," the one with the cigarette commented with a sly smile. Of course, she knew the underlying meaning of that statement, but she chose to ignore it.

"I should be able to tell by now, don't you think?" Lillian asked the man with the cigarette, turning so he could clearly see the Red Cross on her arm as she turned back to the solider named Lip, placing her duffle bag and medical bag on the floor near her. The one sitting down in a chair had leaned forward in shock. He had seen field nurses at the hospitals, but he didn't expect them this close to fighting. "Are you getting treatment?"

"Company medic's given him medicine already. Lip just needs to actually rest and not tell everyone he's fine when he isn't." Lip sighed a bit and massaged his forehead quickly before covering himself back up with the blanket.

"Luz, can you do me a favor and get some coffee? Would you like some coffee, ma'am? Sir?" Lip asked. The man named Luz disappeared to go make some coffee.

"No thank you," the replacement replied, shaking his head.

"No, thank you though. And nurse," Lillian explained. "I only use my rank when I have to … Sergeant Lipton?" Lipton gave a short nod, looking at uniform.

"Alright Nurse Jenkins." Lillian gave a small smile before she turned to the other men.

"Private Webster. It's nice to meet you," Webster greeted, nodding his head with a shy, but movie star-like smile.

"Lieutenant Jones," the young yet stringent faced paratrooper replied.

"Sir," Lillian greeted with a nod.

"Here's your coffee Lip."

"Thanks Luz,"

"Who are you supposed to report to, Nurse Jenkins?" Webster asked.

"Captain Winters. Some of the men told me he'd be around here if not at the battalion CP," Lillian explained, retrieving folded papers from her pocket. Jones suddenly stood at attention, and Lillian did the same, however not as noticeably at the ranking officer who came into the room.

"Captain Speirs, sir. This is Lieutenant Jones—"

"Lipton, for Christ's sake, will you go in the back and sack out? There's some beds with fresh sheets," the officer named Speirs replied angrily to Lipton. He took a quick glance at Lillian, sizing her up and moved to put the item he had in his hands down.

"I will, sir. I'm just trying to make myself useful, sir," Lipton replied. Lillian gave Lipton a look, and he responded with a sigh and nod, knowing he should go in the back.

"Listen up," a new voice came in. Lillian's stomach did a flip, and her body tensed up. She knew that voice, and she knew the man to whom it belonged—Captain Richard Winters. Soon enough, the tall, built redhead came into the room, taking off his helmet. "Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners."

"This one comes straight from Colonel Sink, so it's not my idea," the captain accompanying Winters explained. Lillian let a small and quick smile crack her set face, remembering her first encounter with the colonel.

"Since the river is the main line of resistance, we're gonna have to cross it to get to them."

"What do we need to do?" Speirs asked.

"There's a three story building on the enemy side, up the embankment. We know it's occupied. You can have fifteen men, and think very hard about who you want to lead the patrol. You'll need a lead scout, a translator, and I've got the entire battalion on covering fire," Winters explained.

"When?"

"Tonight. Zero one hundred."

"Yes sir," Speirs replied.

"Speirs, I want this to be as fool-proof and as safe as possible," Winters said, seriously.

"Yeah, don't take any chances on this one. We're too far a long for that," the second captain agreed. Winters and Speirs began to talk to each other, and the captain walked over to Jones with a questioning look. "Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jones, sir."

"Right, our West Pointer," the captain said with a small hint of a smile.

"Yes, sir."

"When did you graduate?"

"June six, sir."

"June six? Of last year?" the captain questioned, surprised.

"D-Day, yes sir," Lieutenant Jones answered. The captain smiled and chuckled, but it didn't seem to be humorous.

"What a day," Lillian thought.

"Alright, don't get hurt." He was about to walk out when Lillian caught his attention. He did a double-take and walked over to her. He hadn't seen the silent woman standing by the piano. "And who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jenkins, sir. I was told by Colonel Sink to report to Captain Winters who would place me in the appropriate company best suiting the battalion," Lillian elaborated quickly. By then, Winters had stopped talking with Speirs and was walking over, observing the lieutenant. His first thought was that she had become skinnier. His second thought asked why she was even here, standing in front of him, in a uniform, in the first place. The captain nodded, amazement etched on his face. He turned to Winters.

"Sir, permission to request her in Easy?" Winters turned to Speirs with a raised eyebrow. He was surprised at the request, especially coming from Speirs. "If there are to be any complications, we need any medical hand possible," Speirs explained, reasonably.

"Alright. Lieutenant Jenkins, you're assigned to Easy. Follow me," Winters said as Lillian grabbed her duffle bag and medical bag and hefted them onto her shoulder.

"Sir, permission to go on the patrol, sir?" Jones asked Winters. Winters took one, long look at him before turning to Speirs.

"Speirs, I'll talk to you in an hour?" Speirs nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Lillian followed Winters and the captain out of Easy's CP and into his makeshift office at battalion CP. The men that had passed the trio had to look behind them or stare long and hard. They couldn't believe a woman, was in a uniform, and around here. It astounded and puzzled them, and it increased their curiosity. Thankfully, Winters' office was behind a door; closed off from the eyes and mumblings. Lillian stood at attention as Winters started organizing and moving papers on his desk. The dark-haired captain was leaning against the wall and took in Lillian.

"You can sit down, you know. Or at least put your duffle bag down—" the captain suggested.

"Thank you captain, but I'm accustomed to being on my feet," Lillian said, nodding her head. The captain gave a shrug and smiled.

"Alright, suit yourself. Captain Nixon, by the way," Nixon greeted, extending his hand. Lillian shook his hand as Winters turned to them.

"So, Lieutenant Jenkins, Colonel Sink referred you to me?" Winters asked, sitting on the edge of the desk, arms folded over his chest.

"Yes, sir," Lillian replied, handing folded pieces of paper to him. He began to read it over when Lillian added, "I'm sorry if my arrival is inconvenient for you, sir—" Winters looked up quickly and shook his head.

"Oh, no. No, no it's not inconvenient. It's rather … convenient, actually." Winters and Lillian looked at each other, for the first time, straight into each other's eyes. Nixon looked back-and-forth quickly between the two, a smug smirk covering his face. Winters cleared his throat awkwardly as he turned back to the paper, and Lillian looked away from him, but still keeping her head high.

Nixon watched both of them closely; he noticed Winters' body language, every word, and his facial expressions and Lillian's, so much so that he could make it a science. He saw what had just happened between them. Now, Nixon had, in vain, tried to get his friend to be social and talk to women, but Winters had never acted like this with other women before. Therefore, Nixon came to two conclusions. Winters was either just that shy and just bad with women, or they had met before. And there was still something more underneath, more than what their exteriors were allowing him to see. Nixon was sincerely hoping that Winters was not that antisocial and assumed the second. A knock came at the door.

"Enter," Winters called, not looking up from the paper. The door opened to a corporal; he saluted both officers.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but the showers and winter gear along with PK-rations have arrived sir."

"Finally!" Nixon exclaimed.

"Good, let the men know," Winters said, nodding.

"Yes, sir. We also need Captain Nixon, sir," the corporal explained. Nixon raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Excuse me. Duty calls," Nixon said, winking at Lillian before leaving the room. Winters watched his friend leave the room, and as Nixon shut the door, he mouthed, "Have fun" to him.

Winters was looking over what Lillian assumed to be her deployment history. "This is impressive. Algeria, Italy, and now France and wherever we're headed next," Winters commented, folding the papers back up and handing them to her.

"Thank you, sir."

"The patrol across the river is set for zero one hundred. We're trying to make this mission as safe as possible, but in case, I want you and Eugene Roe ready for any causality or injury. Roe is the medic for Easy. Report to him and get settled as best as you can. We don't know how long we're going to be here. And make sure you get some type of rest before zero one hundred."

"Yes, sir. What if any of the prisoners are injured?" Lillian asked. Winters thought about it, leaning back more into the desk, but only for a moment.

"If they're critical, yes. Otherwise, don't bother," Winters replied.

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed. Aid station is down the street on the right after OP 2."

"Thank you, sir," Lillian saluted Winters sharply; Winters dismissed hers with his, and they both walked off in different directions. However, Lillian stopped at the door and sighed. She turned back around and walked to Winters. "Captain Winters, permission to speak sir?" Lillian requested. Winters looked behind him and nodded, seeing the concern in her face. "Sir, where were you last stationed?"

"Belgium … Bastogne," Winters answered, folding his arms back over his chest.

"Sir, even though the men are getting hot showers and winter gear, some of the men are in horrible condition, physically and mentally. I can see it. If some of those men are on the front line, sir, they shouldn't be. Not only are they a danger to themselves sir, but they're a danger to the patrol. Those that are physically sick need to be at the aid station, regardless of rank or what illness they have and those that are not mentally stable, and some are sir, need to be removed from the line," Lillian said. "You want this mission as fool-proof as possible? Make sure you know who you're putting out there." Winters just stared; he didn't respond or even move or change his expression that might give away his thoughts. "Sir."

"I couldn't agree more," Winters said, "but let me be just as frank. Despite your achievements, you have no idea what this group of men has gone through. Some of these men have been with the company since its formation, and they're a tight-knit bunch. You will feel like a replacement to them for a while because you're a new face. This is nothing like the hospitals in Italy or Algeria. It'll be a whole new atmosphere to you here. If it doesn't take you a while to adjust among these men, then you've changed even more from when I last saw you." Lillian chuckled, breaking her austere façade for a moment. Winters gave in to a small smile. "But hang tough, they'll like you."

"Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind," Lillian replied, nodding her head. "Have a good day sir," Lillian turned to leave.

"Lieutenant," Winters called to her.

"Sir?" Lillian asked, turning back to him, the door ajar.

"Watch yourself," Winters advised, seriously.

"Yes, sir," Lillian nodded. "Captain Nixon," they saluted each other as Nixon walked in and she walked out. Winters raised an eyebrow to his curious friend.

Lillian shut the door and walked out of the battalion CP. She could feel the men's suspicious eyes follow her as she left. Today, here, she was a replacement. Just her being a woman, walking around a battalion full of men who had probably been on the front line since D-Day, would have been enough to raise more than a few eyebrows. She sighed and looked around, trying to learn her new surroundings. OP 2 was down the road, so she began to walk. After the first block she heard a siren-like noise fill the air. Then the explosion came. Lillian ducked down behind one of the barricades, but then hearing another, even louder, she ran out of the way before the window shattered above her. Upon finding another barricade, she saw a man trying to move across the road before being hit only a block away. She didn't hesitate to start running the second her mind said go. She didn't care that the building next to her exploded. She kept running; a life depended on her. She found the man, buried under some rubble with chunks of smoldering potatoes around him. His eyes were wide, and blood had stained the corners of his mouth and down his neck.

"C'mon," she muttered, checking his pulse. There was none. She sighed, leaning her head down in some defeat before closing his eyes.

"What happened?" a man asked, immediately kneeling down and coming over to the body. She soon saw the Red Cross on his arm and shook her head.

"He's dead," she said. The medic checked the pulse and that confirmed what she had told him. Both stood up and looked at each other in the eyes. Lillian moved over and let the medic continue.

"Somebody's been hit!" Men from the whole battalion, Lillian figured, soon gathered around. Everyone was taken aback. Bill King, if she heard his name right, was the man who in first hour on the job, she couldn't save. She tried to reason with herself that the shelling had killed him, that he had been dead as soon as he hit the ground; it didn't alleviate her guilt. Speirs soon came to the front of the crowd, and he wasn't happy to see that. No one ever is happy to see that, but he looked as if he had let his men down. He looked at the surrounding buildings and quickly wiped his face, down the bridge of his nose.

"Back to your stations," he ordered. The men dispersed as he continued with his orders, "Christenson. Jackson." He pointed to the body. Before he turned to leave, Speirs told a redheaded soldier, "Get him outta here, will you?" One of the men that were standing near the front was in shock. Lillian recognized the look because she had seen it too often. The death of a friend can affect someone for the rest of his life. Death was inevitable, and war was merciless. The redheaded soldier then took the man and left. Private Webster and Lieutenant Jones came into view shortly after.

"Did you know him well?" Jones asked.

"No. Not really," Webster replied, shaking his head. Webster and Jones stayed a moment as the Sergeant was carried away. The medic stood up, and Webster, with a side glance at Lillian, left the scene with Jones.

"You look like you've seen that before," the medic with the smooth, sweet southern accent commented, eyeing the woman somewhat skeptically.

"Too often, for too long," Lillian agreed. "Lillian Jenkins." She walked over to him.

"Eugene Roe. Medic for Easy," Eugene Roe greeted as they began to walk. "Welcome to Haguenau. Sorry for the not-so pleasant greeting earlier—"

"You don't need to apologize Eugene," Lillian said, shaking her head. She knew very well why he was like that. Emotions aren't supposed to get in the way of the job, but when a new face is doing your job, you don't know if you can trust them or if they're doing it right. And losing men when you couldn't get there in time certainly didn't alleviate your burdens or stop your emotions either.

"So what's a nurse like yourself doing here?" Eugene asked curiously, trying to make conversation.

"I've been just assigned to Easy from the 94th EVAC Hospital." Lillian replied.

"Now they think we need more medical hands?" Eugene asked rhetorically, shaking his head in disgust. Neither of them talked again until they entered the aid station. Lillian was beginning to understand what Winters meant. It was going to take some time.