I don't own Band of Brothers. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men in Easy Company and the soldiers just like them.
Summary: AU. Doc Roe was destined to be a field medic. He was too damn courageous to be anything else.
Rating: T for language
Eugene Roe leaned heavily against the bus stop sign, green canvas rucksack slung across his left shoulder, fraying strap crossing his body. He looked down the dirt road, surrounded by reaching trees and vines and blew a long breath out between his lips.
He impatiently pushed himself off the metal pole and took jittery, jumpy steps back and forth beneath the scorching Louisianan sun. The young Cajun chewed nervously on his tongue and aimlessly struck his fist into his other palm. He looked down at his soft leather boots and shook his head, running his fingers through his wavy black hair.
"Mon Dieu," Eugene whispered softly and abruptly sank down onto a stump beside the road. He gazed across the bayou and a sudden, stifling feeling of mortality washed over him. This could be the last time he saw and understood the hidden mysterious beauty of Louisiana. He had never gone anywhere beyond the ghost town—and his birth town—of Bayou Chene and the town of Lafayette where he had enlisted. Now he was planning on going clear across the fucking Atlantic Ocean to the most volatile continent in the world at that moment.
"Goddamn idiot," Eugene smacked himself on the forehead lightly with a closed fist. His fingers were shaking. They never shook. His lip was bleeding from his ardent chewing. His blue-almost-black eyes were panicked and calmed at the same time.
He crossed his arms and brought his right hand up to cover his mouth, thumb resting just underneath his right cheekbone. He let out another shuddery breath and then straightened up. The frightened gleam reflected in the 20 year old eyes was replaced with a hard glint of determination.
"Fear is nothing to be ashamed of Gene," his grandmother once told him as she stroked his 7 year old hair after a particularly brutal nightmare. "Fear is what makes you a strong man." He had looked up from his grandmother's apron, silent silver tears frozen on his cheeks, quizzically. She looked down at him lovingly, bent down to the boy's small face, and whispered conspiratorially: "The strength comes from when you overcome fear. When you refuse to let it control you."
Eugene was startled out of his reverie as the silver bus let out a hiss beside him. He stood, resolutely, and without a second thought, walked up the polished steps so out of place on this dirt road surrounded by terrifying and magnificent nature. Eugene just walked up.
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The train seats, although padded, offered Eugene little comfort. The wooden slats underneath the worn cushion made sitting increasingly uncomfortable for the young man, but he did not move a centimeter. Instead, he remained, sitting straight as an arrow, eyes locked on the fraying and empty seat in front of him.
The feelings of fear seemed to be nothing more than a memory by now. Instead, feelings of awe overcame him as the train rushed past a world that he had always lived in, but never explored. His mouth dropped open and he scooted closer to the window as if he were a small child staring into a cake shop, eyes darting quickly as the train sped through countrysides and towns, stopping frequently.
Slowly, the train that had once been filled by empty seats and silent passengers became a mingling ground for crass men-turned-soldiers. Eugene remained the quiet observer as young boys puffed up thin chests and tried to act like men. He watched as cocky bravado was challenged through arm wrestling and spitting contests. He chuckled slightly as the train grew louder and louder as nervous acquaintances became tentative friends. He quietly joined in the rowdy singing that echoed through the train in a deep baritone chorus, smiling nervously as men began to sit next to him and across from him, jostling one another and punching the others in their ribs as if they'd known each other for years. And Eugene just sat in silence, content to sit back and close his eyes, listening to the inane and meaningful conversations that surrounded him.
"Hey buddy. Hey." A hand shook Eugene's shoulder, sending a jolt through his body, rousing him from his sleep. He looked blearily up at a strange face.
"We're here." And with that, the man turned, hefted a sack over his shoulders and left. Eugene stiffly rose and stretched. He leaned down and heaved his own significantly smaller pack over his shoulder. He weaved his way into the line of men and they all filed out into a cluster outside the train and into hell.
The second the men stepped off the metal steps, a barrage of screams and hollers broke through the air.
"MOVE LADIES!"
"The FUCK you DOING?"
"My GRANDMOTHER MOVES FASTER THAN YOU!"
"IF YOU DON'T MOVE, IMMA STICK MY BOOT STRAIGHT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!"
Amidst all the confusion, Eugene merely straightened and quickened his pace. Of the small group that was in his compartment, Eugene was the first to overcome the initial shock of Camp Toccoa. He led the men behind him to a square in the middle of a cluster of cabins, lining up beside the red haired soldier that stood rigidly in the general area where the officers (at least he assumed they were officers) directed him to.
Sweat dripped off his brow underneath the harsh Georgian sun that seemed so unforgiving—not the warm rays of welcoming sunshine that greeted him every morning when he stepped out onto the bayou. He stood rigid as officers crowded around the huge group of men, screaming and correcting.
Once the men were assembled satisfactorily, they were funneled into a building where they were sat down in barbers' chairs and shorn like sheep. Eugene watched numbly as his jet black hair that his mother adored fell in front of his eyes until his hair was so short he couldn't even run his fingers through. It was strange; surreal. And then, instantly, it was over and done with and the screaming began once again and Roe was out yet again in the burning sun, shorn and now dressed like a soldier.
Silence reverberated through the square as the men stood rigidly in a huge crowd, lined up perfectly behind a group of officers. An old man with a limp moustache sauntered out of a nearby building and stalked in front of the group.
"Good afternoon boys," he began with an almost comical southern twang. "I am Colonel Sink. I'm in charge of this here camp, your trainin' and you." He paced down the line, scanning the crowd. "This here is probable the most important thing you'll ever do in your goddamn lives. It's not just you anymore men."
The silence suddenly became stifling to Eugene. He barely suppressed the urge to scream and jump around, just to break the stillness. "You are fighting," Sink began again, "for the United States and the American way of life. But out there, you're not gonna think about that all the time, no sirree. Out there, the most important thing y'all will be fighting for will be the man lyin' next to ya. So get to know each other boys. Be prepared to die for the man to your right and expect the man to your left to die for you. Now, the 101st Airborne Division will be made of THE biggest and baddest sons of bitches that ever fought in this goddamn war. It WILL happen. Don't let me down." He stared the men sternly down. "Now, let's get to work."
"Eugene gulped as Sink ducked into a nearby building with a small entourage trailing behind. The remaining officers advanced slowly, scanning the crowd of rigid men. One stepped up and pulled a clipboard from behind his back.
"When I call your name, go stand where I tell you. This will be your company til you die, get reassigned, or outlive the war. Get to know each other." He glanced up, over the top of the clipboard, eyes narrowed, as if pegging immediately the men who would die. Eugene wondered if he was one of them. The man began listing off names, pointing in various directions, following up the names with the title of the company. Eugene waited stiffly for quite some time before he finally heard his name.
"Roe, Eugene. Easy company."
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Eugene lowered his aching body into the cot stretched over two two-by-fours screwed together by shiny new bolts. The room of men echoed with disgruntled grumbling and muffled curses. And then it was all suddenly so quiet. So silent it was almost peaceful. So almost peaceful, Eugene allowed himself to drift off.
The sound of trumpets startled Eugene awake, the terrible jolt sending his heart into rapid-fire mode. A man beside him jumped so band he fell off his own cot heavily.
"LET'S GO! LET'S GO, LET'S GO, LETS GO!"
"Fuck," whispered Eugene as he rolled out of bed, lithe as a cat.
"C'mon gentlemen! It's already late, it's three o'clock in the morning!" Eugene slightly wondered if he'd get court-martialed for accidentally tripping and punching Sobel square in the nose.
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"CURRAHEE!" The shout echoed through the mountains, along the dirt pass, around the fatigued men. "THREE MILES UP AND THREE MILES DOWN!" Sobel's thick voice made Eugene grit his teeth in utter annoyance. It took a lot to get on Eugene's nerves—Sobel, without a doubt, made top three in Eugene's hit list.
Eugene lowered his head and quickened his pace. Sobel's voice faded and the fatigue seeped from his bones. A dreamlike state washed over him as he bounded over fallen trees that his companions struggled over. He skirted closely around rocks and tiny streams that cut through the mountains. His mind wandered, as it often did, back home. He wondered slightly what his parents were doing at this moment. How the mechanic's shop was functioning without him. Who would tend to his grandmother's grave once he was dead.
A cold, sudden jolt washed through his body. When had be become so sure that he was going to die? He was brought back to reality as a body next to him fell to the ground with a crash. An audible SNAP echoed through the pass as the man's leg caught in a ditch. Eugene stopped in his tracks.
"DO NOT STOP!" Sobel's nasally bellow pierced through Eugene's brain. He turned to face his superior, a cold look in his eyes. He bent down, blue-black eyes locked on Sobel's all the while, as he rested a hand on the man's shoulder protectively.
"DO NOT HELP THAT MAN!" Eugene ignored Sobel, whose eyes bugged at the sight of the first public disobedience ever shown by a member of Easy.
" 'Ey buddy," Eugene said softly, "Can you get up?" The man groaned.
"I don't think so. Just go ahead. I'll—I'll just wait for the ambulance." The look of discouragement on the man's face tore through Eugene and his mind was instantly made up. He shook his head, grabbed the man's arms and legs and pulled him over his shoulders in the midst of Sobel's barrage of "PUT HIM DOWN!" and "I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS YOU LITTLE SHIT!" and the like. He took off running.
Eugene ran four miles that day—one mile up to the top, three to the bottom—with a man on his back and Sobel yelling all the while.
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Eugene sat on the edge of his cot, his head held in his palms. The other Easy men had long since left for supper, but Eugene couldn't force himself to feel hunger. He sighed and pulled his hand over his face. A look of pure misery was painted across his visage.
"Stupid," he whispered to himself. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid." He punctuated every word with a fist to the brow. He closed his eyes, exhaled a long breath yet again, and leaned back, resting on his palms, now clutching the edge of the wooden cot.
His mind raced, as it often had a habit to do. He got up and paced through the rows of cots—back and forth—thinking of what a dishonorable discharge would do to his job and his family, to his mother—his MOTHER—and how stupid he was and how he shouldn't have done that and how he should have just the man GO—he didn't even know him anyways—and…and…and then he realized that, given the second chance, he would never have done anything different.
"Roe," a voice sounded behind him. Eugene whirled around instantly and snapped to attention as he caught sight of 1st Lieutenant Winters. His voice was soft and strong and nothing like Sobel's grating, nasally bellow. The red-haired man smiled slightly—distantly—and raised a placating hand, silently ushering Roe to stand at ease. Eugene cocked his head to the side quizzically. Winters rubbed the back of his neck with a groaning sigh.
"Sobel wants you in Sink's office." Eugene's heart dropped into his stomach. "He says to—he says to not even bother packing your bags."
Eugene closed his eyes, sighed, and straightened. "Okay," he said simply and followed Winters to the door. The 1st Lieutenant stopped and turned.
"For the record, Eugene, I think this whole thing is a bunch of bullshit." Eugene's head shot up in shock. Winters had a hard look on his face. Expertly suppressed anger was spinning in his eyes. "I'm glad you did what you did. Someone needed to stand up to that asshole."
Eugene nodded numbly. Winters placed his hand on Roe's shoulder, lightly squeezed and turned on his heel. Eugene followed close behind.
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The two men walked briskly up to Sink's door. "Ready?" Winters asked. Eugene nodded. Winters nodded and knocked solidly on the door.
"Enter." The door opened and Eugene resolutely walked into the office behind his 1st Lt. Sink was seated behind his desk. Beside him, Sobel stood, a smug look held on his face as he imperiously scrutinized the two. "You may go Winters."
"If it's all the same, sir, I'd rather stay." Sink glanced up from a paper he was signing with a raised eyebrow. Winters imperceptibly inched closer to Eugene, showing his support. Sink shrugged and nodded. Sobel looked as if he was swallowing a particularly large and sour lemon.
"Step forward Roe." He did so. "I am giving you permission to speak. Tell me what happened out on Currahee. Captain Sobel's already given me the report." The smugness grew. Eugene felt sick. "So tell me your rationale." Eugene looked up.
"He fell sir," Eugene began weakly. "Right in front of me. I had to help him."
"Against the direct order of a commanding officer," Sink interrupted sternly.
"Yes sir," Eugene sounded off immediately, strongly. Sink's eyebrow rose again. "I will not let a man suffer just because an officer ordered me to leave well enough alone. I'm not an educated man," Eugene continued, gritting his teeth. "But I do know the Bible. 'As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love.I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete. My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.' So I am not going to let a man suffer sir." He took a chance and looked Sobel directly in the eye in defiance.
"Ever." Out of the corner of his eye, Eugene saw Winters nod his head in approval. Silence. Then Sobel opened his mouth.
"It's as I told you sir." Sink nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes it is Mr. Sobel. Exactly," He glanced sternly at the small, dark Cajun man. He leaned back in his chair.
"Do you approve my suggested action then sir?"
"Yes I do, Mr. Sobel," Sink stroked his moustache thoughtfully, eyes still locked on Eugene. "John 15:12?" Eugene nodded in surprise. Sink chuckled. "You thought you were the only one who memorized the Bible?" He laughed again. Then propelled himself forward so he was sitting straight in his leather chair. "I believe that verse continues. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." All humor erased itself from the old face. "Will you lay down your life Eugene?" Sink's sudden intensity frightened Eugene. He found himself nodding.
"Go ahead Mr. Sobel." Sobel reached into his front pocket and tossed something at Eugene. He deftly caught the object and held it close to him, cupped in his palms.
"Word of advice Roe," Sink grumbled. Eugene managed to pull his eyes up to the older man. "Don't disobey a direct order from an officer again. Now Mr. Sobel," Sink said, rising from his plush leather chair. "Care to join me for a cuppa coffee?"
He winked and Eugene and Winters and left the room. Sobel stared at the men a minute longer, suspiciously at Winters and quizzically at Roe. He opened his mouth as if to say something then clamped it shut. He walked to the door and then stopped. He turned and blurted out before he lost his nerve:
"You earned that…Eugene. Just…don't make me look bad. I don't wanna regret this." And with that, he was gone. Eugene stood, shell shocked. Slowly, he looked down at the armband clutched in his hand. A smear of red was painted across the fabric in the shape of a cross. Eugene let the irony wash over him: a bloody cross to save a life. Winters stood silently, allowing Eugene to process what had just happened. Eugene cleared his throat.
"So what now?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"Do I go to training or stay with you guys or what?"
"Don't rightly know."
"Yeah. I know the feeling."
"What's on your mind, Gene?" The sound of his childhood nickname rattled the apathy from his bones.
"What the fuck am I gonna do sir?" he muttered. "I'm no medic. I don't know how to…how to set bones and—and stitch skin together and SAVE people. I didn't even finish elementary school sir! What am I supposed to do?"
"Gene. First of all, between you and I, it's Dick. Not sir." Winters' eyes d aced. "Second of all, we can teach you how to set bones and administer stitches. That's child's play. You don't need a diploma to be smart. Now, saving people is hard." Eugene gulped and looked down. "But you've always had that skill. Gene, anybody who could stare down Captain Herbert Sobel, the pissiest, most hypocritical officer in the entire regiment to carry someone up and down Currahee because of a broken ankle is capable of saving people."
"But it's not—"
"Yes it is the same Gene." Winters interrupted. "Because what you did requires courage. Courage is what every field medic needs on a daily basis. And you—well goddamn me if I'm wrong—but I think you're the most courageous of the lot of us. You're too courageous to be anything else in this division Gene. I'd trust nobody more with the safety of my men than you."
A visual weight lifted itself off of Gene's shoulders. "Thanks Dick."
"No problem. Just be there when my ass gets shot up." The two stepped out into the sun.
"I'll be there."
Review? I kinda wanted to write this to give some redeeming qualities to Sobel and Sink who kinda sorta bugged the pants offa me. I also really enjoy Doc. Doc is Doc and Doc is awesome. Sorry for any confusion or OOCness. I tried. It is true though, that Roe dropped out of elementary school (unless Wikipedia lies…). I was kinda surprised. Anyways, thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome!