I remember looking out the back of the prison van as it drove through the gates of Her Majesty's Prison New Hall in London. The last time I thought I'd see the outside world as the rusting iron gates swung shut behind me, the metal mesh on the window obscuring my view of the clouded daytime sky. I remember feeling the bite of the handcuffs as they cut into my wrists, the uncomfortable metal seat and the stern glare of the prison guard sitting opposite me. Driving under the old Victorian archway, I remember feeling absolutely nothing - no remorse, no care, and no guilt. Because I didn't commit the crime they said I did. But the word of a tattooed, troubled 18 year old was absolutely worthless to the government of 1942. They just needed to put someone away to put the minds of the community at rest during these turbulent times. Sure, I'd committed crimes - theft, assault, vandalism - but murder? That was laughable. Because the apparent nature of my arrest was that I, a young girl, who weighed no more than 10 stone had murdered 4 grown men using just a pocket knife. I'd been near the scene at the time, coming home from the pub, and was immediately apprehended, tried days later and sentenced within 30 minutes. People like me didn't have friends to back you up, because the people you knew were the ones the police were trying to catch. The only people I'd ever known were criminals. Including my family, but that's for another time. My face had been plastered around town with the words 'CRIMINAL CAUGHT' written underneath in dark, bold, ominous letters. The whole country knew. Why? That's a question for the PR department of the justice system. My name is Billie Soler, and my life had just come to an end. Or so I thought.

My third day in prison was to be my last. Not that I cared much. I kept to myself, not paying much attention to anyone. The closest encounter I'd had was when I'd been placed on library duty, resulting in a fight and the end of my job. No one else around me gave me much notice, except to maybe try and find out about my crime. I'd settled down to read a book in my cell when the guard came to take me.

"Soler, let's go. Warden North wants to see you in his office." He was a good looking guy to be working in a prison, but he had his flaws - any man working a job like this and not helping the war effort meant he had a health defect of some kind. "Soler, get up, and move." I'd kinda just stayed reading my book, not bothering too much to move.

"What's it even about?" I sighed. Since no one would listen to me about my innocence, I decided life couldn't get much worse.

"I don't know, it's the Warden's business. Now move," he said, grabbing my arm in a vice like grip and dragging me off my bunk.

"Ok, ok, jesus," I retorted, but he held my arm the whole way there, and by the time we got to the office, I couldn't even feel my fingers. He let go when he knocked on the door, and I glared at him, wanting nothing more than to smack him one straight in the mouth, but in my short time here, I'd seen what happened to those that hit officers.

"Enter," a voice replied from behind the metal door, it's faded blue paint peeling and leaving flecks on the floor. The officer shoved me through the door, and I almost growled lowly at the back of my throat. "Ah, Billie Soler. Thank you, Staines," the warden dismissed the guard, who nodded before shutting the door behind him. "Mrs Soler, take a seat." He pointed at the empty chair in front of his large, wooden desk, covered in files and paperwork, a typewriter being the centrepiece. As I sat down, I studied him. He was a middle aged man, his once dark hair becoming grey around the edges. He looked to have been muscular during his younger years, his broad shoulders covered by a grey suit jacket. "There's no simple way to say this, but the country hates you. The deaths of 4 young, healthy men, who were heavily involved in the war effort slain for no apparent reason. The suspect - a delinquent known by local forces for her mischievous streak, the streak having got her in much trouble before." He took a pause, studying my face. "But look kid, I know you didn't do it. I mean, you might be a dab hand at fighting, but murder? I don't think that fits your persona." I was taken aback at the words he just said. I took a breath in, not sure where this conversation was going.

"So if you know I didn't do it, why aren't you out there searching for the real guy?" I protested, though half heartedly, because I already knew his response.

"Because the public can't have knowledge that their justice system is wrong. Not in these times. And the penalty for murder is death. You know that?" I nodded. My date of death was set for 3 weeks from now - death by hanging. The thing is, I didn't even care. Nobody valued me, nobody cared for me, so why would it even matter when I was dead anyway? "But I can't let that death be on my hands. A young, healthy, innocent 18 year old girl. A girl who was really faced with this life since birth. Your family, what happened with them?" I hated questions like this.

"They, er, they died. My mum and dad were killed in the Blitz. My brother hasn't returned home since he left when he was 16." My deadpan expression must have looked odd when talking about such a subject, but I was used to telling the story.

"Your father was arrested multiple times throughout his life, and even met your mother at a mixed inmate prison. Is that correct?" he asked, raising his eyes up from my file. I nodded, no expression on my face. "Your brother was last seen by you when you were 14, and has spent time in and out of jail for petty crime. Now, if you ask me, a life like that is no place for a young girl. It leads to trouble, and trouble leads you here. Now, as I said earlier, I don't want your death on my hands. So I'm going to leave it to the Germans."

"What?" I wasn't sure if I'd just heard what I thought I'd heard.

"The Americans are short on medics. And no one in this country will take you. So, as soon as you get back to your cell, pack your minimal belongings. You're leaving today, on an troop plane to a small camp in Georgia." I still wasn't registering what was happening.

"But, I'm a female. They don't accept females. I mean, I am female, right?" My head was spinning. I focussed on the mug on his desk, trying to remain composed.

"We made a case for you. The Americans are more liberal with this sort of thing. It's all going to be very quiet. As far as England is concerned, you will still be hung on your death date. Now, off you go." He dismissed me, flicking his hand at the door and going back to reading an article like what he'd just told me was a normal everyday occurrence. I got up, almost in a trance like state, feeling like I was floating to the door. It opened before I got there, and the guard from before, Staines, stood in front of me.

"Let's go, Soler," he said. Are they the only words in his dictionary? I thought to myself. He let me walk myself this time, no more dead arms. As I gathered my small amount of belongings from my cell, I had only one thought drifting through my mind. I was going to war.

I slept for most of the plane journey over. I had the hard bench to thank for my stiff neck this morning as I rode in the jeep to Camp Toccoa, my new home. I still wasn't sure how the warden could get away with a female in the American army, but he apparently worked miracles. There was a growing amount of troops, meaning we were nearing the base. The jeep driver was a smallish man, his uniform telling me his name was Evans, his markings showing he was a sergeant.

"So, how long have you been in the army, Sgt. Evans?" I asked in a polite manner, though not false. He didn't answer, just kept his hands on the wheel. "Ok, then, forget I asked," I muttered under my breath. We reached a barrier in the road, to which a couple of soldiers lifted up and waved us through. My breath caught in my throat when I saw how big the camp was, the amount of men milling around. Some appeared to be on free time, others were being drilled, and some were doing PT. Sgt. Evans stopped the jeep, jumping out.

"Colonel Sink would like to see you, but first he told me to help take your things to the barracks," he said in a robotic tone, like he didn't want to be talking to me.

"Oh, er, ok."

"Follow me," he said, not bothering to help me carry my stuff. I grabbed it out the back of the jeep, trying to keep pace with Evans. He stopped outside a hut where a group of men waited in formation, before approaching the shouting man at the front. He looked angry, like he was permanently chewing wasps. A hushed conversation later, he glared at me, like I was no more than scum on the floor.

"You, come here. Bring your stuff." I wasn't one to be shy, but a whole company of men stood before me, and I felt the heat of all their eyes as a young female, tattoos and all walked for what seemed like an eternity to the front of the group. "You're the criminal, the murderer -"

"I never killed anyone. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," I argued, feeling heat creeping into my pale cheeks.

"You do not talk back to a ranking officer!" he yelled in my face. "And you will address me as Lt. Sobel. What I have been told is that you killed four men in cold blood, no motive, not guilt. You were caught, sentenced to death by hanging and then sent here, for what reason I don't know. You are not worth my time, but if Colonel Sink thinks you have a case, I can do nothing but follow his orders." I sighed in defeat.

"Yes, Lt. Sobel."

"Now, let me check your bag. Can't have a murderer armed on the base." I reluctantly handed him my bag, my cheeks now probably a dark shade of red. And when he upended my rucksack and tipped everything on the floor, I could have died. I didn't have much, but what I did have tumbled to the floor. "Pick it up," he ordered, and I'd never felt more humiliated in my whole life. I bent down, and a boot stomped on top of my hand as I went to pick up my book. "You will never make it through here," he said, and I felt a trickle of blood drip from my hand onto the floor as he pressed harder still. I hated this man and I'd only met him for five minutes, The pain in my hand intensified, but determination told me to grit my teeth and bare it. He released his foot, instead now talking to his company. I continued to pick up my stuff, and the only picture I had of my family all together lay smashed and broken on the floor. Out of nowhere, a sense of extreme loneliness washed over me, like a bottle being thrashed around by the sea. As I picked up the picture and put it in my bag, I could only think of how much worse my life would be now I was going to be kept alive. "You have until 1900 hours, Easy Company. Fall out," the voice of the devil sounded. He wasn't a nice looking man, though he wasn't especially ugly. I hadn't got much of a look at any of the other men, except for a good looking ginger man at the front of the men, who I assumed was of rank. His green eyes were focussed on the field further ahead, like he was trying to forget the fact Lt. Sobel existed. At his command, the men dispersed, and I felt myself growing smaller and smaller as I heard their whispers and hushed conversation.

"Excuse me?" A soldier crouched down next to me, a kind expression on his face. "I'm Sgt. Carwood Lipton. You're Billie Soler, right?" he smiled.

"Uh, yeah," I nodded, accepting his handshake. I mean, he seemed nice enough, but I'd had people being something other than what they portrayed themselves as before.

"We've heard all about you, your story. Colonel Sink enlightened us about your situation. It's not a good place to be," he said, almost sadly.

"You're telling me," I said, looking at the ground. I did the zip back up on my bag, fumbling in my embarrassed state.

"You know, a lot of us don't believe you're a murderer. Sink told us what the warden in your prison said, about you not being guilty, but having to keep public morale up?" I smiled at him, nodding. "You should probably get the hand looked at. Here, let me take your bag," he offered, picking up my rucksack.

"Thanks." We walked towards the hut, and inside I could see rows of cots on either side. I glanced down at my injured hand, the blood crusting over the wound. "I think my hand will hold until a bit later," I shrugged.

"These are the men of Easy Company. They'll make you feel welcome, and if they don't, I'll deal with them. Just because your a girl, it doesn't mean they can disrespect you," he said, handing me back my bag, before walking towards the ginger man. Lipton was a good looking man, a nice smile and a good pair of eyes. Not to mention a complete gentleman. It made a change from what I was used to. Glancing back round to the hut, the men inside were either laying on the bunk, or talking in small groups. I took a deep breathe before I walked into the wooden hut, it's plain nature highlighting the fact that this was the army. I stepped inside, and every pair of eyes flicked to me. I could once again feel the colour creeping into my cheeks, the breathe hitching in my throat as I tried to search for an empty bunk whilst keeping my head down. I'd never regretted my tattoos before, but the inkings that covered most of my arms suddenly became an inescapable beacon for all to see.

"Hey, quit staring," a voice whispered in one of the groups. A couple of the men resumed their individual conversations, whilst a few remained looking at me. I noticed someone moving towards me from the corner of my eye, and immediately wanted to disappear from sight.

"I'm George Luz," he said simply, extending a hand, which I took. He was very handsome, his chocolate brown eyes hinting at mischief, his cheeky smile making me feel a little better.

"Billie Soler," I nodded.

"There's an empty bunk next to mine, if you want?" he asked, still with that same smile.

"Sure, thanks," I smiled, though not genuinely because I was still pretty overwhelmed by the whole situation.

"Luz, I thought you said we didn't wanna scare her off," someone laughed.

"Can it, Gonorrhoea," George retorted in a joking way. "I'm just trying to make her feel welcome," he said practically to the whole hut, making me cringe internally. I wanted nothing less than to remain anonymous, but that apparently wasn't happening. I put my stuff on the bunk, and glanced around. Most of the men had returned to their activities, leaving me and Luz standing next to the cot. "We haven't heard a lot about you, only what Sink told the officers who then told us," he shrugged.

"Well, whatever you heard, I'm telling you now, I'm not a murderer," I said, maybe too sharply, because he immediately backed up and raised his hands.

"Hell, we don't think you are. We don't know you, but you're kinda small for the crime they said you committed. No offence," he said, offering me a small smile. "Come meet some of the guys?" he asked. I looked over at the group he was talking about. They were a mixed bag; a short tanned guy, a taller guy, a stocky guy, a huge guy - they all looked like they came from completely different backgrounds. I shrugged, having nothing better to do, and I'd be with these men for a long time; might as well get to know them. "So this hunk of a guy is Denver Randleman, but we call him Bull," he pointed to the biggest man.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said in a thick accent.

"Ok, so before I meet you all, my name is Billie Soler, and christ, please don't call me ma'am," I almost laughed, making Bull smile.

"Isn't Billie a guys name?" the taller one said. I raised an eyebrow.

"It's spelt with an 'ie' instead of a 'y', making it a girl's name," I said like it was obvious.

"Nice going, Joe. Piss her off without her even knowing your name," Luz laughed.

"Joe Liebgott," he nodded with a small smile.

After a while. I'd got to know the names of some of the men. Most of them seemed nice enough, but I was never sure. I hadn't told them much about myself, except my name, and now I was standing outside smoking. I watched as the smoke I exhaled twisted and writhed in the air like it was alive, trying to escape the heat and humidity of Georgia. Looking around, it was a simple place; barracks, an obstacle course and a medical hut were it's main features, the only colours being brown and green. I inhaled on my cigarette, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a movement approaching me. I looked over to see the dark haired man I'd seen earlier standing at the front of Easy's parade coming over to me.

"How you settling in?" he asked as he got within speaking distance.

"Fine, I guess," I shrugged.

"I'm Lt. Lewis Nixon," he said, holding out his hand. Fuck, how many more hands do I have to shake. "Must be hard coming from a completely different country," he said, lighting up his own cigarette.

"Not when they all hate you." He smirked as he exhaled.

"Yeah, that kinda blows, huh?" he asked, as I raised an eyebrow. "Colonel Sink says he'd like to see you. Between you and me, you're gonna be under the watch of a Lt. from a different company. Word is he's quite the taskmaster, but you'll still be with Easy. Guess it's a security matter," he said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks for the heads up," I said. "Which way is his office, sir?" I asked as I began to walk off then realised I had no idea where I was going.

"I'll walk you there," he offered. "So, what part of England did you grow up in?" he asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"South east London," I replied, not wanting to give too much away.

"I guess America's a big change then."

"Yeah, just a little," I smiled. We stayed quiet for most of the way to Sink's office, neither wanting to delve too much into conversation.

"Here we are," Nixon said, stopping at a more official looking hut. "Good luck, kiddo," he winked.

"Thank you, sir," I said, suddenly nervous. I stepped inside, feeling my palms go clammy. To my right were two doors, and the one at the furthest end was marked 'COLONEL SINK' in big, bold letters. I knocked on the black door, seeing a slight movement through the frosted glass centre.

"Enter," a voice sounded, reminding me a lot of the prison office. I opened the door, walking into a small office, paperwork stacked methodically around. It was like a neat confusion. "Ah, Soler. Take a seat," the man behind the desk said, pointing at the single chair. I sat down, glancing out the window at the passing soldiers. "I hope your journey here was uneventful. Now, Warden North enlightened me on your situation. It's a hard place to be, and for such a young girl. It took a lot for him to persuade us to accept you, what with your previous records and all, but at the end of the day, why waste such a youthful presence that could be doing good for herself and get out of the rut she finds herself in. I believe letting you hang would have weighed heavy on many parts. I guess that the happiness of the public was the most important element of that equation, even with the laughable lack of evidence. Due to the fact that you have previous records that we can't overlook, you are still somewhat of a liability. Now, that means I'm going to be assigning an officer from Dog Company to be your supervisor." Sink was a stern man, stern but fair. He was an older man, his hair grey, as was his moustache.

"I understand the need for that sir, but why from a different company?" I wondered. Since I'd gotten settled for the past couple of hours, I'd found my voice again. Now that Sobel wasn't around to throw insults down my throat.

"The men in your own company, those are the ones you will forge an unforgettable bond with. Those men will be the men next to your through death and injury, through the darkest days of your lives. Those men will grow attached to yourself and one another in a way you can't imagine. And that would mean that they won't supervise you properly. They'd be more concerned about forming a friendship than a leadership. What I need is someone who can discipline you if need be. Now, you'll have to report to Lt. Speirs of Dog Company at the beginning and end of everyday for three weeks. Any issues, you report to him. Now, he will have your uniform for you. Stick to the rules, you'll fit in fine, Soler," he nodded in dismissal. I got up from the chair and saluted him before I left the office, bumping into the ginger man with the cool green eyes on my way out.

"Ah, Soler. We didn't get to meet properly yet. I'm Lt. Richard Winters. It's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled, his voice soft. He seemed much too kind to be doing a job of this sort.

"It's good to finally meet. You wouldn't happen to know where Dog Company is would you, sir? It's my next port of call," I smiled.

"Just keep left on the path and it'll be signposted. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Colonel Sink," he said politely. I saluted him now that I was technically a soldier, a salute he returned, before we went our separate ways. I stepped out the hut, turning left and saw a familiar face walking towards me. It was Joe Toye, one of the men I'd met earlier.

"Hey, Billie. You heading back to the men?" he asked, a smile on his face. He was a good looking guy, the rough type.

"Nope. I'm on my way to get my uniform off of my goddamm supervisor," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"You serious?" he asked as I nodded. "Jesus, they really are cracking down. I'm off to go do some trading with the knuckleheads in Able. I'll try bring you something back," he winked.

"Good luck," I laughed as I started back my path towards Dog. Sure enough, within a few minutes, I found a wooden hut signposted 'Dog Company'. As I went to step inside, two soldiers blocked the entrance. "Can I get in please?" I asked in a polite manner. I had a rude side to me that I didn't exactly want to unveil within the first day, let alone heading into unknown territory.

"Why would we let a girl who killed four soldiers into our hut?" the taller one sneered.

"Leave it out, Jones," a voice shouted from behind them.

"Can it, Smitty," Jones retorted, earning just a mumbled whatever. I didn't expect anyone to come to my defence, being that there was still an air of uncertainty circling around my head. "Now, what were you saying?"

"I was about to say that I haven't killed anyone. Do I look like a murderer to you?" I replied, feeling that familiar heat of humiliation crawling back into my cheeks.

"Those tattoos don't exactly make you look like the type of girl I'd take home to see my mother," the shorter one laughed. But in a cruel way.

"So what? Doesn't make me what you think I am," I said. "Can you please just let me into the hut?" I pleaded, not wanting to cause trouble. I went to walk through the middle of them, but instead got shoved back onto the path. "Hey!" I protested, but in vein. "Dude, quit being a jerk-" I was silenced when what felt like a hammer slammed into the side of my face, knocking me to the floor almost instantly. I felt my cheek split on impact, backed up by the amount of blood now dripping into the dusty earth. The shorter one grabbed me by the collar, thrusting me up against the wall, which wasn't hard considering my light frame. I coughed the air from my lungs, my breathing ragged from the sudden impact.

"You ain't going nowhere," he snarled, before Jones landed a punch straight to my gut, knocking the wind out of me and causing me to grit my teeth in pain. Just as he was about to throw another punch, he was pulled backwards. The one holding me immediately let go, and I dropped to the floor like an empty sack, winded and bloody.

"Both of you report to Colonel Sink's office, and I will be dealing with you once I've seen to our new arrival. Go!" a voice sounded. He didn't need to raise his voice to sound menacing, a chill finding it's way down my spine with the venom laced within his words. I lay in the dirt, wanting nothing more than to die, before feeling a hand lift my face under my chin. And I found myself looking back at possibly the most beautiful human being I'd ever laid my eyes upon. His own hazel eyes bore into mine, a cold detached look inside of them.

"On your feet, soldier," he said, removing his hand and waiting for me to stumble back onto my feet. Once I'd dusted myself down and managed to get my breathing regulated, I noticed his name was Speirs. Oh, shit.

"Apologies, sir, I only tried to get into the hut to find you, sir," I saluted, wincing in pain as a bolt shot through my side where I'd been punched.

"I have an idea of what happened. Come inside, let me give you your uniform before I take you to the medical hut to inform you of your duties and get your injuries sorted out.," he stepped inside the hut, where a much smaller office hid in the corner. It was barely big enough for us both to fit in it, just a single desk stood in the middle of it. I studied him as we walked. He seemed much like the taskmaster Nixon had described him as. His face showed hardly any emotion, though he was positively the single best looking person I'd ever seen throughout my whole life. Something about his persona added to the air of underlying mystery, his features almost inhumanly perfect. And his eyes were cold and uncaring, yet drew me in. He walked over to his desk, handing me a bundle of clothes. "This is your dress greens, your OD's and your PT gear," he said, snapping me out of my uncharacteristic trance. He spent a moment looking at my arms, raising an eyebrow, making me fell exposed. I pulled the bundle closer, trying to cover my arms.

"Thank you, sir," I said, looking at the ground. I could feel him looking at my face for a second before speaking.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, not exactly out of concern.

"Lt. Sobel stood on it, sir," I winced, not wanting to seem like a snitch, even on someone like Sobel. Speirs' expression changed almost unnoticeably.

"I'll ensure it doesn't happen again," he said. "Now, I'll explain what I expect from you on the way over to the medical hut."

Speirs' P.O.V

Glancing over at her as she walked, I could see she was in pain. A slight limp on her right leg, and a struggle to breathe highlighted there'd been significant damage done. Pvt's Jones and Sterling would be out of my company by the end of the day. She'd had it hard enough, having a whole country hate her for a crime she obviously didn't commit. It was clear that looking at her, she was no murderer. Sure, I could see the damage on her knuckles from years of fighting, and she had an air about her that might make some question her motives, but murderer? No, that was painstakingly clear. She was rather a pretty girl. Her blue eyes had an iciness to them, not intentionally, but their almost grey complexion made her appear nonchalant about a lot of things. She was quite pale, but her tattoos added the colour, although probably not what many would approve of on a woman this young. She had fairly long, brunette hair, slightly messy from her days events. Several scars dotted themselves around from a life of insecurity. I felt she had underlying issues, but wasn't exactly an open person. I neither liked her or disliked her; I'd only known her 2 minutes.

"So, Soler. You are going to be a combat medic with Easy Company. You will train with them, eat with them, shoot with them and suffer with them. Lt. Sobel is to be in charge of you whilst you are with them, though I can give you orders if I feel necessary. For the next three weeks, you are to report to me at sunrise and at sundown. Sink needs to ensure your seriousness about this issue," I said, highlighting the jobs she'd be undertaking.

"Yes, sir," she replied, nodding her head. The split on her cheek would need stitches. I took out a cigarette, offering her one, which she accepted with a small smile. She had a nice smile, almost cheeky, and definitely mischievous. "Do you have a light, sir?" she asked, patting herself down and figuring she'd lost it somewhere. I passed her my metal lighter, nodding when she handed it back.

"Any questions, Soler?" I asked, glancing down at her. She was an average height, maybe just above.

"Not that I can think of yet, sir, but I'm sure I'll have some by this evening," she said, raising an eyebrow and inhaling on her cigarette. We stopped when we got to the hut, the big red cross on top indicating it was the medical barracks.

"I'll leave you to it, Soler. Any issues, you know where to find me. See you this evening," I nodded before beginning to walk off. "Oh, and one more thing," I said, turning around. "Try not to piss of Sobel," I said.

"Would I ever, sir?" she smiled coyly, the light in her eye betraying her thoughts. I raised a small smile, deciding that having known her now for longer than 2 minutes, I think we'd get on just fine. As she exhaled a plume of smoke from her cigarette, something inside my mind registered that she held a charm I'd never seen in a girl before, and I shook that something from my thoughts, not wanting it to play on my mind.

"Behave yourself, Soler," I said before finally walking off.

Billie's P.O.V

I finished my cigarette outside the medical hut, thinking about Speirs. He was a hard one to pin down. He seemed to have no emotion, yet at the same time understood me. I shook my head, sighing before flicking the end of my cigarette away and stepping inside. It wasn't a big place, but it was clean and tidy. Beds lined the walls on either side,each one with a railing and curtain surrounding it. A table stood by each bed, and at the entrance stood a large desk, compartmented into different sections; needles, thread, bandages, syringes; everything had it's place. A couple of nurses milled about, chatting with each other, and they hadn't quite noticed me walk in. I cleared my throat, and they both looked round. One of them smiled, coming towards me.

"Hey, my name's Betty," she smiled warmly. She was very pretty, her blonde hair put in victory rolls, the lack of makeup on her face not making her any less stunning. She took my bundle of clothes from me, laying them on the nearest bed, before pulling me into a hug. It slightly shocked me, but I returned it not wanting to seem rude. "You know, a lot of girls spoke about you before you got here, and I told them that we couldn't judge you without even knowing you," she smiled, releasing the embrace. "Personally, I think you're very brave, not to mention pretty," she said.

"Erm, well, thank you. It's nice to meet you," I replied, smiling back. I decided I liked Betty. The other girl still stood at the end of the hut, not making an effort. "What's her name?" I asked.

"That's Dorothy. She's kinda shy, but lovely when you get to know her," Betty shrugged with a small smile. "Here, come meet her," she said, pulling on my hand. "Dorothy, this is Billie." I guessed they must have heard my name from the officers.

"Hey," she said shyly, looking at the floor.

"You've probably heard stories, but I'm actually a nice person. Promise," I smiled.

"Oh, no doubt about that. Now honey, let's take a look at that face. And hand," Betty said, leading me over to a bed and sitting me down. "What happened?" she asked as she hurried around gathering antiseptic, stitches and small plaster strips on a metal tray.

"Some of the guys in Dog Company didn't appreciate my presence," I shrugged.

"Damn them," she said, before covering her mouth. "Sorry for the language," she smiled.

"Betty, if I apologised for everytime I used a curse word, I'd never be able to talk about anything else," I laughed, making her giggle.

"Now, let's clean this up," she said, pushing my hair away from my cheek to clean the cut. I took a sharp intake of breathe as she administered the cleanser, but relaxed a little once the first couple of stitches had gone through. After a couple of minutes, she was done, and started checking over my hand. "Was this them too?" she asked, her eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

"That one was Lt. Sobel," I said, shaking my head.

"A few of the Easy guys have been in here after he's pushed them too hard," she sighed. "So, you're gonna be with them?" she asked as she began to clean my hand.

"Yeah. They seem nice enough. But I have to report to Lt. Speirs from Dog," I said, and she looked up at me, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ohh, the saucy, suave yet detached Lt," she laughed, making me laugh.

"That's the one," I said, smiling.

"What part of England are you from then?" she asked as she applied small white strips to the back of my hand.

"A place in south east London, called Lewisham. It's ok, but there's a lot of gang related violence. I've had a few run ins, nothing too bad though," I smiled.

"Your life sounds pretty interesting," she said, not looking up from my hand.

"You could call it that. Where are you from?" I asked, wanting to know more about her.

"Nebraska," she said, smiling, like she was thinking of home.

"What's it like there?" I asked.

"Hot in summer, cold in winter," she smiled. "And tornadoes, a lot of tornadoes," she said. "I come from a family of three brothers, so working round all these guys isn't a problem," she said, making me smile. "There we go," she said, showing me my hand. At that moment, a soldier walked into the hut carrying a medical bag. "Hey, Gene," Betty smiled, her cheeks tinting slightly. "I'm just finishing fixing up Billie," she said, walking over to him and waving me over.

"Good. I need to talk to her. She's gonna be a medic," Gene said to Betty.

"You never told me!" she beamed, as I shrugged smiling. "That means we get to spend time together," she smiled. It made me happy, knowing that at least one person was genuinely happy to have me around. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to it. See you later, Gene," she said. "Billie, you should pop over to the nurses barracks when your done. You can meet the other girls," she smiled.

"Sounds like a plan, Betty," I smiled. "Catch you later," I waved as she left the hut. I glanced around, looking for Dorothy, but she must have left without me noticing. "So, your Easy's medic?" I asked.

"That I am," he replied in a thick accent. "Name's Eugene Roe, but the guys call me Doc or Gene," he said, offering his hand.

"Well, you already know my name, but it's nice to meet you," I said, shaking his hand. "Where are you from?" I asked.

"Louisiana," he smiled. "You from London?" he asked.

"Yeah, south east born and raised," I smiled. He had kind eyes, and seemed shyer than the rest of the men. I liked that. He didn't feel he had to be brash to fit in.

"So, I gotta tell you. You're medical training starts tomorrow. Unfortunately for us medics, they can't find a time to train us without taking us out of other training, so it has to be in our free time. It's only a couple of hours a day, followed by a lot of reading, but you'll be okay," he smiled.

"Sure, sounds better than what I used to do with my free time," I said. "Which wasn't murder, by the way," I hurriedly added, making him laugh.

"I don't believe you did it, mon cherie. What Sobel did was out of line, even for him," he said, becoming serious. His dark eyebrows creased, making him look like a puppy. "Anyway, I gotta head back to the guys. We got formation at 1900 hrs, final parade before we do whatever Sobel makes us suffer through. I'll catch you later," he smiled, giving me a nod.

"Yeah. See you later, Gene," I smiled as he left. I thought it odd he didn't ask what happened to my face, but figured he didn't want to be rude. I stepped out of the hut, figuring out what to do with myself. I glanced at the wristwatch I was wearing. I had three hours before I had to be anywhere particular, so decided to head and find Betty. I liked her, she had a nice way about her. Now I just had to find the nurses barracks.