Author's Note: Well now. It has certainly been a long time since I've posted anything to FF, especially in the Band of Brothers category. It's funny - my first story ever on my first FF account ever was a BoB story. That being said, my writing's certainly come a long way since that first story, and I'm beyond excited to see where it goes.
Anyway, some quick housekeeping nonsense before I present chapter 1:
I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Band of Brothers; I only claim ownership to my main character, Maggie, and any other personalities you don't recognize. Furthermore, I mean no disrespect to the real men that lived through those years of hell on earth and sacrificed everything. It is for this reason that I'm drawing strictly from the miniseries. To do otherwise would be nothing short of an insult. If it comes to a point where I need to add some background to a pre-established character, I may just make up some minor details to fill those holes. Again, I mean no disrespect, and I hope that comes across clearly in my writing.
Also, NOTE: most - if not all - of my present day military info comes from two friends of mine who are parachutists with the 101st. While their info is STUPIDLY SUPER helpful, I'm always open to further suggestions and the like.
OKAY. WHEW. Now that we've got that out of the way, I present to you, dear readers, the first chapter of my story, War Traveller. Enjoy, and please leave a review and let me know what you think! :)
If there was anything that Maggie Hansen hated about jumping out of airplanes, it was those moments of transit, those periods of time in between taking off from the airstrip and flinging herself out the rear door of a C-17.
Alfa Company had been up in the air now for about 20 minutes, bumping and jolting along over pockets of turbulence, shuddering in the wind, cruising towards the vicinity of the drop zone, which was still a good 10 minutes out from their current position in the air. Maggie had been unable to stop fidgeting since the plane had taken off; her right knee had been bouncing nonstop, and she'd taken to lightly drumming the fingers of her left hand against the fingers of her right, movements and behavior that were shared by various other parachutists sitting around her. Like her, they were also impatient and anxious to jump. After all, it had been a while since Alfa had gone out for a jump, static-line or otherwise.
Maggie felt a nudge in her left shoulder. Glancing over, she met the smirking gaze of one T4 Michael Watkins. She mirrored the smirk. "Am I bugging you yet, Watkins?" she yelled over the drone of the C-17.
"Nah, man," he yelled back. "You're crackin' me up, though!"
"Oh yeah? How's that?"
"'S that finger twiddlin' shit you keep doin'! Wassup with that?"
"Anxiety, dude! I just wanna get the fuck outta this plane!"
The smirk on Watkins' face widened at that. "You're in luck then!" he said before pointing to the light by the door, which had blazed to life in bright red. "Hope you're ready to fly, bitch!"
"Always, asshole!"
No sooner had the words left Maggie's mouth than the jump master sprang up from his seat by the door. "GET READY!" he belted out as he signaled with his arms and hands. "OUTBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"
Everyone on the outboard side of the C-17 stood up, static line hooks in hand and gear all stowed and squared and ready to go.
"INBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"
All others on the inboard side reacted in the same manner as those on the outboard sides.
The jump master motioned to the two parallel cables running overhead, then crooked his index fingers and pumped his arms thrice in an up-and-down motion. "HOOK UP!"
At this command, each parachutist detached their static line hook from the top handle of their reserve chute, reached up, and attached it to their respective cable.
"CHECK STATIC LINES!"
Everyone took a glance at their own static line and the static line of the parachutist in front of them, then felt at them with their free hand as a precaution. Once everything looked good, the parachutist in front of them was given a pat on the shoulder and something along the lines of "You're good, man!" Maggie couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she felt Watkins clap a hand on her shoulder and heard his verbal confirmation. She knew she'd done everything correctly, but it was still a relief to receive the confirmation.
"CHECK EQUIPMENT!"
Several full-body pat-downs began - people prodded and patted at each other's helmets, then moved down to the chin strap, to the retention straps, to the leg straps, and further down until the person behind each parachutist was satisfied that nothing was out of place or undone.
"SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!"
They did - loudly.
Once all had been accounted for and the Number 1 parachutist had yelled out "All okay, jump master," everyone was ordered to stand by. Maggie heaved an impatient sigh. As usual, there was more waiting and nothingness to endure. GOD, she hated how long it took to actually get out of the plane...
She leaned back, glanced over her shoulder at Watkins. "I swear," she yelled, "they do this just to torture me!"
"You know what they say about the Army! 'Hurry up' and 'stand by' are their favorite things to say!"
"Yeah, don't remind me..."
Once more, though, Maggie found herself in luck; at that moment, the yellow 'stand by' light had blazed to life, and one of the techs on board had unbolted the rear door and raised it up in preparation for the jump. The roar of the jets and the air current filled the cabin, and the sound sent a thrilled tingle down Maggie's spine. This was it, she thought - this was the big time. In seconds, she would be doing what few rational humans dared to do. In that exact moment, she couldn't be more excited.
"PREPARE TO JUMP IN TEN!"
The stretch of paratroopers in front of Maggie immediately shuffled forward, closer to the door, with the Number 1 leaning out the door and the jump master beside him counting down with his fingers. 9... 8... 7... 6...
"FIVE! FOUR! THREE! TWO! ONE! GO, GO, GO!"
The green light blazed, and out flew the Number 1. It didn't take long after he went for the others behind him to follow, each parachutist breaking into a run as they neared the door. Maggie, all the way in the back of the line with Watkins and a small handful of others, was practically sprinting by the time she got to the door and flung herself out and into the air.
Though the free fall was - extremely - short-lived, it was undeniably one of the most exciting (and simultaneously nerve-wracking) parts of the whole jump. What came after the free fall, the opening of the parachute, wasn't so much exciting as it was relieving. It was proof of things gone well, a sure-fire sign that the parachutist wasn't about to plummet to the ground and his inevitable death. Indeed, it was quite a relief when the chute finally opened.
Maggie couldn't help but cackle when her chute blossomed over her head and she began her slow descent to the ground below. Oh, what a thing of beauty it was. No matter how many times she did it, no matter how many time she flung herself out of the back of a C-17 or a C-130, the experience and thrill never got old, and it likely never would.
She grinned, and tugged on the risers to steer herself in the direction of the LZ. Oh, how amazing it all was.
2 hours later, when all members of Alfa Company had assembled and all was said and done, everyone was sitting in the squad bay, waiting to hear the day's events and announcements. Just like with the jump, Maggie found herself at the rear of the company, sitting and hanging out with Watkins and a few of his buddies, listening to them argue about Call of Duty as a replacement for combat - or some such nonsense. With them, Maggie could never really be sure what they were arguing about.
It didn't matter much, though, because just when the argument was really starting to get heated ("No, fuck you man, Halo is NOT a combat replacer!"), in walked Captain Klemenhagen with a loud "Ten-hut!" With that, everyone in the squad bay jumped and stood at attention, thus silencing the bickering.
"At ease."
As the company relaxed into parade rest, Klemenhagen launched into a recap of the day's static-line jump. Being a straightforward man of relatively few words, he didn't bother with endless babbling and drivel like some other officers might have; rather, he nodded in satisfaction, then smirked. "Ass-kickin' Alfa strikes again."
For that, he got a loud, resounding "HOOAH!"
"All right, all right, settle down. On to more important things. Now, as you guys already know, today's jump was only the first of five. Alfa's got their next one tomorrow afternoon at 1200 hours. You guys all know the drill - make sure your things are all squared away, and if you have any doubts about how your chute's packed, repack it. We haven't had any chute issues so far this year; let's keep it that way..."
Klemenhagen's voice faded as Maggie tuned out. In the four years she'd been in the army, it was nothing she hadn't heard before. Just as well, he was coming to the end of the briefing, so it wasn't like there was much else to say or much for her to pay attention to.
Soon enough, the briefing ended, and Alfa Company was dismissed. Following that and dinner in the mess hall, with the exception of standing at attention for colors in the evening, what remained of the day was Alfa's to do whatever they wanted. For some, that meant getting ready to hit up one of the bars near base; for others, that meant congregating in packs of four in someone else's room for some form of shenanigans, be it video game-related or otherwise.
For Maggie, that meant retreating to her room and curling up with her laptop and a few episodes of Friends. It had been a long, fairly busy day; she'd earned the right to be lazy, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
She maneuvered back to her barracks, ambled slowly up the stairs and down the hall to her room. Her next-door and cross-hall neighbors, two young PFCs with a penchant for loud music and stupid antics, were already stripped down to their tan t-shirts and shorts when Maggie walked by. Per their usual routine, they were also bouncing around to absurdly obnoxious music. The song of the day? House of Pain's Jump Around.
Maggie couldn't help but chuckle as she passed them. "Isn't House of Pain a little old for you guys?"
One of the PFCs, Nagies, shook his head and grinned at her. "Nah fam! This shit never gets old!"
"Hey Hansen, you wanna join in? We're always down to get cray-cray with the ladies!"
"Yeah, Rodriguez, I'll bet you are. I'm gonna pass though."
"Whaaaat? You always pass though!" Rodriguez whined.
"Yeah, and for good reason," Maggie snarked back before smirking and continuing on her way to her room. "You kids enjoy your evening. Try not to piss off the neighbors."
Nagies let out a loud snort. "Hansen, do you even know who you're talking to?"
Maggie rolled her eyes but said nothing, choosing instead to head in for the evening and leave Rodriguez and Nagies to their own devices.
As soon as she'd passed through the door, she shut it behind her, sat on her bed, and began to undress. She was slow, methodical, beginning from the bottom with her boots, then her socks. Her belt came next, followed by her pants, which she folded neatly and placed on the desk opposite the bed. Once she'd done that, she undid her jacket, and placed it on top of the pants, along with her tan undershirt. The last part of the process involved reaching behind her head and pulling out the elastics holding her bun in place, and she sighed happily as she shook her ginger hair out. At last, sweet relief.
After pulling on a worn gray sweatshirt and a pair of khaki green shorts, Maggie grabbed her laptop off her desk and flopped on her bed with a groan. She then sat up against the headboard with her pillow sandwiched between it and her back, opened her laptop, and cruised through her Facebook feed for a bit. As usual, there was nothing too exciting - girls she knew from high school were squealing about how much fun they were all having with their 'besties' in Mexico or wherever, her Aunt Carol was sharing recipes for food guaranteed to give a person a heart attack, a girl she did Irish dance with in high school was - still - posting pictures from her wedding that happened eight months ago, and the few people in the army that she'd allowed herself to be Facebook friends with were sharing Terminal Lance comic strips and videos of stupid barracks antics. Interesting, to be sure, but nothing overly out of the ordinary.
Maggie sighed, continued scrolling through the feed - and promptly stopped when she went past a collection of pictures. More specifically, pictures of her during her first tour in Afghanistan.
The majority of them were of her dancing with some kids from a local village, or of her, Watkins, and a small handful of others chatting with nameless adults. In most of them she wasn't even aware that her picture was being taken; she was far too busy smiling, laughing, and having a good time with the kids to really notice.
There was one in particular that made her pause. It was of her and a little girl in a yellow hijab, and the little girl was giggling as Maggie stood beside her, her feet crossed in Irish third position and her hands on her hips. Ah - she remembered that moment. She'd demonstrated Irish dance for the kids in the village, and, upon seeing the little girl imitating her, had given her an impromptu lesson.
Her heart twitched. God, how young she was in that picture - 19 years old, fresh out of high school, the whole world at her feet... And there she was, teaching Irish dance to a kid living in a country ravaged by war.
Her cursor hovered over the picture for a moment, then trailed down towards the share symbol. Write post?
Write post. Maggie's fingers flittered over the keyboard.
From now on, when people ask me why I serve, I'm just going to point them to this. Peace, freedom, and smiles for EVERYONE.
No sooner had she hit the 'post' button than there came three quick knocks on the door. Maggie frowned.
"Who is it?"
"Your favorite T4," Watkins' voice replied from the other side. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah, sure."
He didn't come in all the way at first - just cracked the door open a bit and poked his head through the space. "Me, Nellis and Sutherland are gonna go to O'Conners' Pub for a little bit. You wanna come with?"
Maggie shook her head. "Nah. Think I'm gonna stay in."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer, though."
"No prob." Now Watkins saw fit to walk into the room, and he made his way over to Maggie. "What're you up to?"
"Not much - surfing Facebook, probably gonna watch Friends in a little bit." She smirked softly. "Those pictures from our first deployment just showed up in my feed as a memory."
Watkins frowned. "What pictures? Wait - ohhh, shit, you mean the ones we took in Tandurak?"
"The very same." She spun the laptop around for him to see. "Crazy that this was already four years ago, huh?"
"Yeah. Feels like yesterday... You know, I still think about it - Tandurak and all that."
"I'm pretty sure everyone still thinks about Tandurak these days," Maggie said quietly. Even now the memories she'd acquired there were rushing through her head - images of smoke rising high and the sounds of frantic Arabic and then... silence. When Maggie took another look at the picture she'd just shared, her heart gave another twitch - and this time it wasn't one of nostalgia.
"Yeah... Well... I'mma leave you to it. Enjoy your binge watch."
Then, Watkins turned on his heel, and slipped through the door, leaving Maggie alone once again. She heaved a sigh, took a final look at the picture, and exited out of Facebook before pulling up iTunes and her pirated collection of Friends episodes. She didn't want to think about the memories that had begun to surface in her mind. She wasn't in the mood for them.
Just don't think about it. Wipe your brain, don't think about it. Whatever you do, don't think about it.
And so, for the next few hours, she did just that. When she finally decided to call it quits for the night, the memories had subsided and retreated back to the dark corners of her mind once more. Maggie knew that they would come back again - they always did, and they struck harder than before. For now, though, they were dormant, and that was all that mattered to her.
She placed her laptop on the desk, shut off the light, and slipped into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
The next day started out very much like the one before - with an early rise, an early breakfast, and an immediate dismissal to check packs and parachutes one last time for the impending jump.
That, and several rounds of DMX, Lil Wayne, and tUnE-yArDs from Nagies and Rodriguez.
And, just like the day before, Maggie paid them and their music no mind. Rather, she focused all her attention on kitting herself out, then on packing her chutes properly and making sure all her other gear was prepped and ready to go. She'd heard plenty of horror stories about chute failure and gruesome deaths and the like, and she certainly wasn't going to let that happen to her. She must've packed and repacked her main and reserve chutes three times before she finally decided that they were safely packed and ready to go.
Hours passed - one, two, three... They were approaching a fourth hour when they finally got the order to saddle up and head off for the tarmac. About damn time, Maggie's thoughts grumbled. Waiting patiently had never been her strong suit; the ways of the Airborne had only exacerbated her impatience.
As she trudged off to the tarmac with the rest of the company, Watkins came up beside her. He chuckled. "No shit, you look like you're gonna tip over."
Maggie quirked an eyebrow as she turned her gaze towards him. "Yeah, so do you, short round."
"Hey, what did I tell you about cracks to my height?"
It was now Maggie's turn to chuckle. "Sorry homie, your height's fair game in the Army."
"Ah, fuck you." He socked Maggie in the shoulder, who laughed. Riling up Watkins was always a good time.
They continued on their way, intermingling with dozens of others in the company who just as weighed down with parachutes and gear as they were, snarking and jabbing at each other the whole way. They were still snarking at each other when they finally shuffled and crowded into their waiting C-17 (although Klemenhagen quickly shut them up with a stern glance and a raised eyebrow).
With a heavy exhale, Maggie took her seat on the outboard left side of the plane, her legs spread wide to accommodate the ruck dangling between her legs. It only then occurred to her that she was sitting in the seat right by one of the rear doors, which meant that she was looking at being the left-side Number 1 for this jump. In her four years of service, it had to be the first time that she'd ever had the privilege (for lack of a better term) of being in that position.
It's no big deal, Hansen. Just remember your training and you'll do fine.
She had to keep reminding herself of that as the plane barreled down the runway and pushed off into the air.
For the first ten minutes, it was quiet, save for the droning of the propellers. Everyone was too preoccupied with their thoughts, too busy mentally running through their training and trying to dredge up helpful tips and tricks they'd acquired from previous jumps. It was as routine of a jump as it could possibly get and this certainly wasn't Alfa's first time doing this, but nobody wanted to screw it up.
The silence extended into the passes. The first pass, quiet. The second pass, also quiet. In between the second and third pass, though... That's when things started getting busy. Klemenhagen stood up, briefly exchanged words with the jump master, then turned to address the rows of troopers sitting before him.
"All right, you guys know the drill!" he yelled over the thrum of the engines. "Straight down and straightforward! No stupid shit with your chutes! I want you guys getting down quickly and hauling ass over to the assembly area! Speed is key here! Do I make myself clear?"
"Clear, Captain!" was the response he got. He nodded curtly.
"Good! Now stay alert! We'll be making our third pass in a moment and then we'll be going from there!" He then turned to Maggie. "Corporal Hansen!"
"Sir?"
"Since you're sitting closest to the door, you'll be the Number 1 this time!"
Tell me something I don't know - "Yes, sir!"
The conversation - if it could even be called that - ended immediately after that, and as Klemenhagen returned to his seat on the inboard side opposite her, Maggie heaved a sigh. As always, a man of few words and zero bullshit.
Before she could further ruminate on the ways of Klemenhagen, the red light flickered to life, and the jump master sprang up and began procedure.
"GET READY! OUTBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"
Maggie jumped up, hook in her left hand, and stood at the ready.
"INBOARD PERSONNEL, STAND UP!"
Everyone standing opposite Maggie stood up, crunched into line behind her with their hooks in hand.
"HOOK UP!"
As the jump master motioned with his hands, Maggie reached up and clipped her hook to the static line running above her.
"CHECK STATIC LINES!"
Seeing as she was going to be the first one out the door and thus had no one in front of her to worry about, Maggie just sent a nod to the jump master. She'd done this hundreds of times before. She knew what she was doing and what to look for.
"CHECK EQUIPMENT!"
She felt hands ghost over her back side as the person behind her poked and patted for anything that may have been out of place. As they did that, she patted down her front side, nodding to herself - nothing out of place. She was good to go.
"SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!"
It took a moment for the verbal confirmation to reach her. When she heard the trooper behind her yell out that he was okay, Maggie pointed to the jump master and yelled out, "All okay, jump master!"
"STAND BY FOR JUMP!"
Save for the droning of the propeller that filled it, the cabin was quiet. Maybe not entirely quiet, thanks to the antics of the guys behind her, but at the very least Maggie was quiet, the outside silent while the inside was awhirl with thoughts, feelings, wondering. Would this be anything like yesterday's jump? Would it be different in any way? What would happen? Could something happen?
C'mon genius, anything could happen. You've known that ever since you joined up in '09...
With a sigh, she glanced up towards the signal lights, and her mouth curled up into a half-smile when she saw that the standby light was on. It curled into a full-on smile when the tech stood up and began unbolting the door. This is it. This is it, this is it, here we go...
She shuffled forward, leaned ever so slightly out the door - and frowned when she saw clouds passing below them. For starters, if they were flying over clouds then one had to wonder just how high up they were in the sky. They weren't just any clouds, either - in fact, they were some of the blackest, nastiest looking ones Maggie had ever seen, more akin to billowing smoke than anything else. That was strange; there hadn't been any rain or otherwise crummy weather forecast for today - so what the hell were they doing here?
Maggie turned to look over at the jump master, face writ with concern. "Sir!"
"What is it, Corporal?"
"I, uh... I think you wanna see this, sir!"
It was now the jump master's turn to frown as he walked over and poked his head out the door to look below. Clearly, he was just as startled by the appearance of the clouds as Maggie was, because his forehead immediately creased into a deep V and he reached for the radio attached to his shoulder. "Jump master to cockpit, where the hell did these clouds come from? Was there rain or poor weather forecast for today?"
Nothing, save for fuzz and static, came back over the radio. He tried again.
"Jump master to cockpit, are you receiving?"
No answer. That couldn't be good.
"The fuck... Jump master to cockpit, are you-"
The plane suddenly began to rattle, so much so that Maggie could feel the tremors coming up through her feet and passing through her body like a wave. It was comparable to going over bumps in a gravel road; this, however, was far more nerve-wracking than what it would've been in a car.
And then it got worse.
Without warning, the plane began to shake and tremble, shuddering over pockets of turbulence that had troopers scrambling to grab on to each other and the walls for stability. Groaning filled the cabin, either from the men or the plane itself; no one could be sure. The only thing that anyone was sure of was that none of this was supposed to be happening.
"HANSEN!" yelled Klemenhagen. "HANSEN, GET OUTTA THE DOOR!"
She didn't need to be told twice. She snaked her arms back inside, and was preparing to push herself backwards into the safety of the cabin when the plane lurched sideways and jolted across a massive pocket of turbulence - and suddenly, with a shriek of surprise and terror, she was thrown up and dumped out the door into the great wide yonder.
"HANSEN!"
It was too late, though - Maggie was gone before her name had even left Klemenhagen's mouth.
She quickly began twisting and spiraling through the air, falling too fast for her to figure out which way was up and right herself - and free-falling far longer than she should've been.
Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit oh shit oh shit why wasn't her parachute opening?
Her breath started coming in panicked gasps and black spots danced in her line of vision, but she wasn't sure if they were the evil-looking clouds she'd been flying over only moments ago, or warning signs of an impending terror blackout. As the wind whistled and roared past her, Maggie suddenly found herself hurtling through thick, choking black fog - the clouds, she quickly realized. Falling through these clouds was nothing short of terrifying - not because she'd never fallen through them before, but because it was absolute chaos inside. Lightning flashed and crackled all around her, and the wind howled and tossed her up and down, left and right, to and fro, like a rag doll - and all the while she kept spiraling, trying frantically to get her parachute to open.
"You stupid fucking piece of shit open alre-AAAAAGH!"
A sound akin to a whine or TV static cut through Maggie like a knife, shattering her ears and stabbing into the back of her head, forcing her hands to slam down over her ears and a pained yell to rip from her throat. Lightning surged around her and the sound grew even louder, even more intense as the seconds ticked by, until it felt like Maggie's skull was being splintered and her body was being crushed from all sides by it. Chute temporarily forgotten, she curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, her yell of pain turning into an outright scream of agony and terror. Save me, begged a voice in the recesses of her brain. Save me, please god someone fucking save me...
She fell through clouds, lightning, raw sonic power.
Save me, save me save me SAVE ME! SAVE ME!
The noise persisted, and though the noise was probably getting louder in reality, it seemed like it was fading to Maggie.
Save me... Save me...
The clouds suddenly parted, and the ground appeared in Maggie's line of vision, a blackish-green fuzz of trees that grew bigger as she drew closer to it.
Save me... Save me...
Her eyes began to flutter shut. All the while, the ground came closer, closer, closer. By now, the chute had wrapped itself around her legs like a python, condemning her to a gruesome death scattered across the LZ. This was it - this was her end.
Save... Me...
Her vision spun, the ground rushed up - and then the whole world went black.