"Medic! Medic! Jesus Christ I need a medic over here!"

"Hey… I think he's part of F Company…" A low whisper came from a man.

"F Company? Jesus… I guess we are really scattered." The other man groaned, moving a hand to scratch underneath his helmet. "Well, get him on his feet, we haffta' keep moving."

"Yes sir." An arm came around the medic, helping the fallen man onto his feet. "Y'all right there buddy?"

"Nggh… wh-where am I?" He looked up to the sky, only to see the sky engulfed in darkness. Every now and again, bright flashes, with sounds of machine gun fire in the distance.

"Shit, you're in Normandy. Don't you remember a thing from dropping in?" The paratrooper shifted the medic's weight as the two moved.

"No… not really."

"Well then, I can't tell 'ya what's really going on, but you're only lucky sob to be alive."

"Thanks." The medic replied. He felt his head throbbing, his body ached, and he began to wonder how exactly he landed.

"You got a name?"

"Rick, Rick Thomas."

"Well nice ta' meet cha' Ricky, call m-"

The private was cut off as the man in front of him signaled them to drop, and they did just that.

"Sir, what's going on?"

He didn't answer, only made another signal for the private to remain quiet and still for the time being. Rick had a hard time trying to stable himself in a crouching position, everything seemed as if it were spinning and crashing into its surroundings. 'Fuck… I can't stay like this for much longer…' The medic thought to himself as he watched the man in front give them the 'clear'.

"Stokes, how is he holding up?"

Stokes, the private that had been helping Rick along the way gave a small shake of his head. "He's kind of out of it, sir."

"Let's get out of this mess, and see what we can do about it." Winters stood, motioning for the two to follow.

"Easy there Ricky." Helping steady the man once more, they were off into the darkness.

--

'Dear Mother,



If it wasn't for the bravery of Chase Stokes, and Richard Winters, I could not exactly be writing this letter to you. I think back on that day, and wonder if things were different, what would of changed? I don't mean to write on such a horrible subject, please forgive me, but I still lay awake at night, mulling it over and over again in my mind. I'm sure you've heard great news about what they are calling 'D-Day', I hope you keep some of the news articles so I am able to read them when I come home.

How is everyone back home? Is father still in need of help with the farm? I always suggested him asking for help from the neighbor boy Timmy, but he would retort and tell me the 'damn boy didn't have his head on his shoulders'. It makes me chuckle to think back, it's almost been two years now, that I've been gone. Is Elizabeth alright? I hope she doesn't miss me as much as I miss her. Tell everyone I'm doing well, and that I'll keep writing.

With Love,
Rick'

"Hey buddy 'ol pal! Whatcha writing there?" Stokes peeked his head over Ricks shoulder.

"A letter to home." The medic gave a small shrug and watched as the private snatched it from his hands.

"Ooo… who is this Elizabeth babe in your letter?" He made a kissy face towards Rick.

"It's my sister." Rick rolled his eyes, taking the letter back and stuffing it into an addressed envelope. "Do you think I'll have time to get this mailed off?"

"Eh, beats me. Winters said we'll be shoving off soon anyway, saying we gotta take some shit town from some Krauts." Stokes dug into his pocket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes.

"Easy Company!"

"Shit, looks like it's go time already." The private shoved the pack into his front pocket and sighed. Ever since they entered France the 'missions' and 'operations' seemed endless as they pushed the Nazi forces back.