-snow-
White. Heavy. Wet. The little particles fell from the gray sky in a quick pace. Never stopping. Never Faltering. It clouded the visions of cold soldiers, who cursed and rubbed their fingers together, fearing they would loose the little feeling which remained in the rough appendages. The snow was painful because it froze your fingers. The snow was painful because you couldn't see who had been shot. The snow was painful because it was beauty.
Medics hated snow. It froze limbs, taking away the feeling of just one calming touch. They hated snow because it made the blood look so much redder than it was. They hated snow because, with it, they couldn't tell where their brother in arms was, and if it was he that was shouting, "Medic!"
Snow troubled Officers too, for the same reasons as Medics. They wanted to know where the cold soldiers were. They wanted to know were the cold enemy was. They wanted to know who saw movement, who saw nothing, who saw red. Officers were like grown-ups. The grown-ups who monitored the play in the snow, making sure that none of the boys went out without gloves or hats.
But, instead of gloves and hats, it was helmets and guns.
If anyone hated snow the most, it was Eugene Gilbert Roe. He was the medic of Easy Company in the 101st, 82nd Airborne. The Louisiana native was quick and quiet, making him the perfect Medic. Eugene's dark hair was never neat, always unkept and sprawling about. His eyes, like his hair, were dark and wild, rimmed with long dark lashes. No doubt, Eugene was something.
But, most of all, he was Easy's Medic.
His white dusted helmet flopped to one side as he stalked quietly to the medical tent. His boots crunched over frozen grass and snow. The graceful weather had decided to frost the small German town's forest.
Frozen, red fingertips were jammed into the pockets of his bloused trousers, fingering a small syringe of Morphine. He needed more, and bandages too. Ever since they arrived in Bastogne, medical supplies and proper clothes for soldiers were on an all time low. So, Eugene made it his duty to check in on the medical tent regularly that was set up in town to see if they had any supplies.
Eugene liked to visit the medical tent, not only because it was warm and fellow medics were there… but she was there. He had watched her silently for the past week. She was small, quiet. He would ask all the other medics, and then all the other nurses. But, he never asked her for morphine or bandages, because he knew he would not be able to control the loud beating drum in his chest.
He silently lifted the flap to the dark, army green tent and let it hang back down. The cold winter wind entered the make-shift hospital quickly, leaving small flakes of snow to drift through the air by the door. Eugene removed his helmet and held it under his arm. His eyes darted down each row of hospital beds, spotting soldiers and medics, and each covered in blood.
Blood: (bld) n.. The fluid consisting of plasma, blood cells, and platelets that is circulated by the heart through the vertebrate vascular system, carrying oxygen and nutrients to and waste materials away from all body tissues.
To Eugene, blood meant more than just the liquid that nourished our bodies. It meant sacrifice, and diligence. It meant that the soldiers who bled, were being cherished, and deserved the care. The carried through with actions that he himself, could have never done.
Blood was honor.
Eugene's eyes continued to travel down the beds, until he spotted her.
She was leaning over a wounded soldier, whispering words softly. He watched her pale lips move slowly, and her hand grip around the knuckles of the young man. He was watching with silent eyes, his other hand reaching up to touch her face. His calloused fingers barely graced her face, before she grabbed his hand and placed it on her warm cheek. Her golden hair had fallen in front of hair face, blocking Eugene's vision of her petite features. The soldier continued to watch her.
The two torn souls muttered back and forth, as quiet as possible as his hand rested on her face.
Soon, as Eugene watched, he noticed the soldier started to slip quietly, and his hand dropped. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she reached up to check for a pulse. She waited. Nothing. Running a hand across his forehead once more, she reached down and grasped his dog tag, taking a single plate and shoving it in the pocket of her apron.
She stood, smoothing her skirt down and leaving the bedside. Travelling across the room gracefully, her hair whipping behind her, she walked down the row of beds.
She made her way down the aisles, glancing at each warrior resting on the small cots. Her eyes darted across their faces, and then their wounds. Care was the only thing Eugene saw in her eyes. He hated it. There was no disgust, no hatred towards the enemy who did this to these men, no fear. Oh, how he envied her. He wishes he could stomach the things he had to deal with. He wishes that he did not fear this war. He wishes he didn't hate the men who did these things to his brothers.
Eugene stiffened as she walked towards him, his dark eyes tracing her silent movements. Her green eyes, full of care, met his and she stopped. The moment was full of curiosity on her part. On Eugene's, he was trying to control his heart. The muscle was pumping and pounding rather loud, as the woman tucked a strand of stray gold behind her ear.
"Hello."
His heart stopped and he stuttered out an awkward hello. He suddenly got caught in her eyes again, taking in as much detail as he could. The green orbs were rimmed with a darker green, and inside of the rim was a complex mash of dark and light greens, each crossing each other. They were like those fields of green he heard about in fairytale storybooks, perfect and lively.
"Corporal… Roe?" Her slim eyebrow rose from his jacket's name tag. God, she knew his name now.
"Y-yes?"
"You are staring at my eyes… It's a little… interesting. I've never seen a man be so taken aback by them."
"Oh. I wasn't taken aback. Not at all." He apologized, waving his hands for emphasis, "They're beautiful."
Her cheeks pinked, and she tucked more hair behind her ear again furiously.
"Thank you."
With that, the small golden haired woman left Eugene in his tracks as she raced out the front end of the tent and out into the snow. He turned on his heal, placed his helmet on and proceeded to follow her out of the tent. She was standing outside, looking up. The snow was getting caught in her hair and eyelashes, making her look like a living snow angel. Eugene smiled.
"You're a nurse?"
She turned around, and her navy blue skirt caught the breeze, whipping around faster than her. Her eyes were wide with surprise, as if to say 'you again?'.
"Oh. Yes. I am a nurse." She rubbed her bare hands together, and blew into them.
"I thought so. Not many women have the stomach for things that are seen in that tent. You nurses are stronger than any man I've ever met."
"Thank you again, Corporal Roe." She nodded.
"Please, call me Eugene."
"Eugene, then."
Eugene nodded swiftly. The two stood next to each other in silence, until Roe reached into his pocket and pulled out a Lucky Strike and lighter. Her eyes watched him with patience, as he plucked a white stick from the package, put it between his pale lips, and lit it.
He held the package out to her and she shook her head.
"I don't smoke."
"I can't stop." Eugene muttered, but she heard him and laughed. Her laughed was almost musical, high and gleeful. It reminded him of his little sister's, when she was playing dolls and then realized that it would be silly for a bear to drink tea.
"That's why I never started."
Eugene smiled, and puffed a ring of smoke from his mouth. It floated through the air and collided with snowflakes on the way. The pieces of heaven turned gray and quickly fell to the ground. Eugene kicked the snow near him and made a pile, then rested his boot on top of it, making an imprint. He amused himself like this for minutes, until she touched his arm.
"I've seen you in the tent a lot. I wondered what you were always doing… Darting in and out, asking all the nurses and medics for things," Her melodic voice paused, "You never asked me."
Eugene blinked.
"Why?"
Eugene blinked again.
"I know I'm not exactly one of the Andrew Sisters, but-"
Eugene's brow furrowed.
Was she saying that she wasn't beautiful? An Andrew Sister? She had no competition with any of the girls from that singing trio.
"—It's not like I would have yelled at you…! I would have wanted to get to know-"
Eugene tried to imagine her yelling. Her nose would have probably scrunched up, warping her light brown freckles. He looked at her nose for a moment. Yes, it would have definitely scrunched up—
"—That was the first time I've ever talked to you back there! I wish-"
Eugene was standing across from her now, his helmet resting on his head. His Lucky Strike poked out of his mouth, daringly. His eyes followed her mouth and eyes, which spoke animatedly about his personality from as far as she could tell.
Suddenly, she reached out and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. He dropped it into the snow and it sizzled. Eugene stood unfazed.
"What is your name?"
"Faith Marie Gettling."
"Faith. That's a beautiful name." Eugene muttered, looking down at his cigarette.
"Thank you Eugene," She looked up at him, "but you still haven't answered my question."
Eugene looked up and nodded.
"I didn't approach you because I was afraid that the second I spoke to you, you would vanish, like the only beautiful thing I've seen in this war wasn't real. As if, you were just a… dream." Eugene's words came out slowly and drawled out, his Cajun accent lacing the syllables.
"Oh." Faith's reply was like a sigh, "Don't worry, I'm real."
Eugene laughed, "Yeah, I found that out when you threw my cig' into the ground."
She giggled nonchalantly.
"G'night Eugene. I'll see you in the morning. Maybe I'll have some Morphine or bandages for you." She kissed his cold cheek and slowly made her way back to the safe haven of the tent.
Later that night, when the Luftwaffe rained their bombs onto the village, Eugene would learn that the medical tent had been hit, and there were no survivors.
He hated snow because it reminded him of her.