Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not wish to offend anyone with this story. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the men who fought in the Pacific. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and the characters are based on the the actor's portrayals in the mini-series.

1942

This story, like many others, began on a train. Not just any train, it was full of Marines fresh from boot camp on their way to New River where the 1st Marines were being reactivated. This train had carts of anxious Marines playing cards, talking, singing songs, doing anything to pass the time. They were told where they were going, there would be no big bands, no alcohol –with the exception of beer, and more importantly, no girls. Only that last one was not entirely true.

See, on this train in a compartment towards the middle, sat a woman in her dress blue uniform. Her blonde hair was fashioned with the stylish curls every woman wore, and a cap rested on her head. Her lips painted red with lip stick, and her legs covered in fake nylon stockings. She'd drawn on the seam herself to look fashionable. She was the average height for a woman, which made her short in comparison to many of the men. Her arms were toned with muscle from the last six weeks of boot camp. She was alone going through it. They tried very hard to make her fail, but if she could learn the entire tap number from Swing Time, both the male and female parts, then she sure as Hell could handle boot camp. Determination, moxie, and a tough skin got her through it.

She sat on the train with a book in hand, A Farewell to Arms, which she picked up from the book store down the street from the train station in Buffalo. Her eyes glanced over the pages, not absorbing any of it. She chewed on her nails until there were nothing but nubs. She kept thinking one thing over and over again: Please, don't let this be a mistake.

Her name was Eleanor Thompson. She'd been a Navy Nurse since August 1941, before the United States entered the war. Then December 7th, the day was would live in infamy, happened. Two months later, Eleanor was brought in her commanding officer's office where she met some Marine big wigs who explained that she was chosen to head to the front line with the men because they want to test the effectiveness of women in battle, along with a number of other things. She was hesitant at first, and then they mentioned the fifty-dollar a month raise. The offer was too good to pass up. She volunteered and one month and a half later, she was sitting on a train to head to the 1st Marine Division. She was one of five subjects to this experiment. Only two others would make it through training. Only three would see and experience combat first hand.

Perhaps only the start of the beginning happened on the train. Every story has a prologue. Something that sets up the rest of the story. Perhaps, it would do well to go to where this story truly starts. It wasn't at boot camp, nor was it even in the first weeks at New River –though those days proved to be lonely and difficult. Her story truly began on a march.

Eleanor remembered it being hot as her pack sat uncomfortably on her back. She'd been at New River for a few weeks but hadn't met most of the men. Truthfully, they seemed unsure about what to do with her. She spent most of her days in the sick bay training corpsmen what to do. She kept to herself for the most part, her presence at the camp was relatively unknown. No one truly believed the corpsmen who would go back to their friends and tell them about the broad. She met most of the officers, but they looked at her as a temporary annoyance.

That is, until they began to realize that she was not going anywhere. For the first few weeks, Eleanor was not assigned a Company. She slept in the sick bay separated by a curtain. The Marines were not meant for women; she'd been told that from the start.

"If they aren't, then how come I'm still here?" She replied, and then was chewed out for not showing the proper degree of respect to a Commanding Officer.

Outspoken, that's what she'd always been.

Finally, when she supposed they figured out that she was not going anywhere, and that they couldn't get rid of her because the order for this 'experiment' came straight from the Military Office, she was assigned to Half Company, Second Battalion, First Marines, or H/2/1 as everyone else called it.

This march was her introduction to a group of men who had bonded weeks ago. Her new CO, Captain Jameson, sized her up with much gusto. He tried to be intimidating, but Eleanor was not scared by him. She met Lieutenant Hugh Corrigan, he was a bit kinder to her. Among the enlisted men, she recognized PM3 Lewis from her training sessions.

"I told you!" He bragged to the other men when they caught sight of her.

"He wasn't kidding," she heard one of them mutter.

"Men, this is Lieutenant Nurse Thompson, she has been assigned to H Company as a corpsman," Jameson bitterly explained. Eleanor kept in her retort. "There will be no fraternizing."

Not like she was going to go down that road.

"She is to be regarded as any other Marine. And she will be treated accordingly." The way he looked at her, she was merely an annoyance.

Well, at least he's not one to skip on the theatrics.

It was a ten mile march in full pack. Eleanor had fallen towards the back of the company. The entire battalion was on the march. She was hot, dehydrated, and felt almost ready to pass out. Never had she marched like this before. She was having a hard enough time keeping herself upright, she had to keep an eye on the men around her. That was her job, after all, and though it wasn't where she saw her life going, she'd be damned if she did it badly.

She could see the men ogling her when they would stop. There were no other women around for miles. She sat off to the side alone and took a drink of water from her canteen. No, this was not the life she thought she would lead.

"… a broad Marine?" She could hear snippets of conversation all directed towards her. She heard them talking about her looks, theorizing who she slept with to get her way into the Marines.

Eleanor did not listen. Quite frankly, she was bored by it. This was nothing new. She'd been listening to the same conversation since boot camp. She had a tough skin.

This would be their first amphibious assault exercise, Eleanor's first field exercise yet. There were knots tying in the pit of her stomach. There were boats lined up. The men went and swiftly climbed over the sides. Eleanor looked at them with great apprehension. Her pack weighed heavily on her back, there was no way she could hop over the side.

Just do it. How hard can it be?

Eleanor took a deep breath and placed her foot on the step and struggled to climb up. Her grip began to slip as someone grabbed her by the arm and helped her climb over top.

"Thanks," she said once she landed over the side.

"Anytime," he replied with a wink. The man looked to be about her age with big blue eyes. He was taller than her too. "I'm Robert Leckie."

He held out his hand which she took and shook.

"Lieutenant Eleanor Thompson," she replied.

The boat was full. Eleanor stood right in the middle row between Robert Leckie and another Marine. The other was about her age with a strong jaw, dark brown eyes. He was attractive. Strong, and rugged. She'd be a fool not to realize.

Her heart was pounding as the boats began the route in the choppy Atlantic Ocean water. It wasn't real, but she the fear in the bones definitely was. She was absolutely insane to be doing this. But I need the money. We need the money.

They were barely on the water when Eleanor heard a gag behind her and then felt something hot on the back of her neck.

She didn't have to touch it to know it was vomit. She could smell it. Her face twisted into an expression of disgust.

"You gotta be kidding me," she mumbled under her breath.

"Can't you use your helmet?!" The Marine on her left chastised the guy behind her. "Christ, Junior, that's what it's there for."

Great start.

Junior hurled again, this time it seemed like he took notes. Others who were not used to boats or had weaker stomachs had also vomited, they used their helmets too. She could feel the vomit hardening on the back of her neck and in her tied bun which hung right below her helmet.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Eleanor got out of the boat. She, unfortunately, had to wait until after they went through drills before she could clean off. During the practice, Eleanor ran a few simulations with Lewis, considering she was going to be working with him. He was a smart kid, a very eager almost puppy-like personality. He was good at the job, but he was young.

"How old are you, Lewis?" Eleanor asked him when they finally took a break.

"Eighteen, miss… ma'am?" he asked unsure of how to address her. He never said a word when Eleanor was doing training for the corpsmen.

Eighteen?

"Ma'am will do," she told him. Though being called ma'am in the military was formality, she assumed, it still made her feel much older than them.

After training was done for the day, Leckie, Chuckler, Hoosier, and a new guy named Wilbur Conley –but his nickname was Runner because he was a track star back in school – set up their tent and then sat in front smoking their allotted Raleigh's. They could see the new corpsman, Lieutenant Eleanor Thompson trying to pop up her tent with the help of Lewis. Her hair was down and wet, she must've cleaned out Junior's puke.

"A woman Marine, never thought I'd see it," Chuckler commented. "Think it'll stick?"

"Overheard Ivy League talking to Stone," Hoosier spoke up, "she's already passed through boot camp."

"But why us?" Chuckler asked. "Why do we get the dame?"

"Maybe we're just lucky, Chuckler," Leckie voiced. She was beautiful, even with wet hair.

"Women like that don't belong out here," Hoosier countered.

"I would not mind getting my shots from a girl who looks like that," Chuckler noted.

"Should we go help her?" Runner asked as Lieutenant Thompson and Lewis struggled to put up the tent.

"Nah, she outta figure it out for herself. If she can't handle poppin' a tent, can't do much else, can she?" Hoosier stated.

"Uh-huh, like you can do it," Leckie countered. "Hear that fellas? Hoosier's gonna pop up the tent all by himself."

"Fuck you," he retorted still leaning back with his smoke dangling out of his mouth.

"Still doesn't answer my question, think it'll stick?" Chuckler repeated. "Think a girl can handle it?"

"Can any of us?" Runner asked. It was a grim thought that no one wanted to think about. When the inevitability of battle came upon them, Leckie wondered if he would be a coward. He'd like to think he'd be brave. They all would.

I'm back! So here is the first chapter of Eleanor's story. I really hope you all enjoy the story. I'm so excited about this story. For those who are reading this and have not read 'All This Hell', you may want to check that story out first, though it isn't a necessity.

Warning: Updates may be a bit slower than All This Hell because I only have about 60 pages of this story written and am in school full time.