This might have been a bad move.
The journey across the ocean was bad enough but this could be worse.
Walking into the camp marked the beginning of the end. The barracks and buildings were new, they had just been built and the smell of freshly shaven wood stunk the air. It reminded Frankie of the horse stables back home. When her dad built them, to shelter the animals. Only back home, it was never this warm and muggy. Flies were attracted to her like a pile of shit and Frankie had to slap her neck a few times, to kill the beasts eating her skin. Still, it could have been worse. She could have actually been a piece of shit. Maybe she was. Who knows.
At sixteen, Frankie was supposed to live life like a normal girl. She was meant to attend university with a few select friends from school, who had enough money to pay for a decent education in Edinburgh. However, Frankie's dad lost his business and they had no money to send her off to university with her friends so, Frankie ended up here, camp Toccoa in Georgia America. The land of many possibilities. Only her possibilities had a line and she was here to serve a country she didn't live in and fight along side men who would probably hate her.
But that was fine. Frankie was used to hate. And she was prepared for it.
The men would hate her for two massive reasons. She was a girl and she wasn't American. Being a female in an all man's world was either going to make her or break her. But she had no choice but to stick it out because they needed the extra fifty a week. Her dad needed the money and those horses needed fed and looked after. Everyone had a reason for joining the army. To fight for their country, to be the best and the money was good, especially if you were a certified Paratrooper. Which Frankie hoped to be by the end of training. But first, she had to get through the gate and find out where to go next.
"You must be Hughes".
Frankie didn't have to look very far.
"I'm Sargent Lipton". He gave her a firm nod, "I'm your Company Sargent. Follow me".
She didn't even have the time to open her mouth and thank him because they were already walking down a small and narrow path, which directed them into different barracks. There were nine Companies here, Frankie didn't know which Company she was in, only that Lipton was their Company Sargent. She didn't know the first thing about military ranks or who to call sir, or not. She didn't pay much attention when her Grandad and dad talked about fighting in the Great War. Frankie only knew that her dad was a Sargent Major and her Grandad was a General. That was the only reason she was here because her Grandad was considered a war hero back home and even the American's had heard of General John Hughes. Frankie was proud of her Grandad's and her dad's war efforts. She would never be able to live up to them. Not even close.
"You're in Easy Company". Lipton was telling her, "1st Platoon. Your Platoon officer is Lieutenant Matheson. And our Commanding Officer is Lieutenant Sobel".
The way Lipton said Sobel's name struck Frankie with a tiny amount of fear.
"The men know you're coming". He went one, "and I hate to tell you, they ain't happy".
She nodded slowly, having already expected this.
"They think you're getting is easy, cause you're related to General Hughes".
Frankie cleared her throat, that was a little awkward.
Lipton snorted and looked down at her, "pretty small, huh?"
She frowned a little. Frankie thought five foot was an acceptable height.
Meeting her new Platoon was the single most awkward moment of Frankie's life. They didn't smile but they didn't glare. And when Frankie was walking down to a spare bed, she tripped and almost fell over. Then they glared. Lipton raised an eyebrow at a few of them before he walked out of the barrack, leaving Frankie alone with the men. She put her bag down on the bed and kept her head down, not saying a word. It was going to take time, but it might never happen, these men had every right to be sour towards her. Frankie was intruding, and she was the last person to join Easy. She needed to earn their respect and in order to do that, Frankie would have to work hard and stay out of trouble. Her dad had given her a little bit of advice before she left Scotland.
"Keep working and don't you ever stop. They'll come to you".
God, she hoped he was right.
Frankie unpacked her bag very slowly because the barrack was thick with tension. It was horrible, she could feel the stares from the back of her head and not wanting to make a total tit of herself, she made sure to be extra careful when hanging up her uniform or putting her books into her footlocker. Frankie had already made several errors and it had only been five minutes.
"See this?"
She looked up and saw one of the men next to her uniform.
"This has 'gotta be on the right side". He told her, "you face it to the left, you'll be digging holes all night and you'll drag us with you".
Frankie gave him a tiny nod.
He sighed and looked her way, "I'm Hoobler".
"Eh – Frankie".
Hoobler huffed out a tiny laugh, "seriously?"
"Yeah".
"God…who gives a broad a fellas name?"
Frankie shrugged, "my parents?"
Hoobler grinned and shook her hand, "nice to meet you, Frankie".
Clearing her throat, she gave his hand a firm shake. "Yeah, likewise".
He let go of her hand, "so…Scottish, huh? You're far from home, ain't you?"
"I guess, yeah". Frankie shrugged, "where are you from?"
"Ohio". He said, "Manchester".
She pulled a face, "eh?"
Hoobler laughed quietly, "what?"
Frankie shook her head, "nothing…just – eh – we have a Manchester in England".
"Oh, you think we stole it?"
"You's probably did, yeah".
He laughed again, "you're alright, Frankie". Hoobler slapped her arm, "man – you're tiny! How old are you?"
"Sixteen". She replied, rubbing her arm. "The fuck was that for?"
He grinned, "get used to it, Tiny. We always slap each other around".
So, maybe it wouldn't be so hard to make friends because Hoobler was contagious. It was hard not to like him. He had that type of personality where he was easy to get along with. Frankie guessed that he probably had many friends in the Company. Which was good for her because once Hoobler had introduced himself, a few others did as well. Frankie shook hands with Blithe, Dukeman and Luz next. They were an acceptable bunch of young men. And soon, she had met everyone from 1st Platoon in this barrack. Perconte, Martin, Floyd, Cobb, Bull and Christenson. They started to warn her about Sobel, their CO. He was a harsh man by the sounds of it and there was no pleasing him. He wouldn't talk, he would yell, and nothing was ever done right. Frankie was a little nervous to meet this man. But they spoke so highly of the other officers. Winters, Nixon, Moore and Matheson. The men might have talked to her, but they still needed proof that she could do this. And Frankie was willing to prove herself. It would just take some time.
"Holy – fuck".
It was the next morning and her wake-up call was Lipton.
At five in the morning, they had one hour to get ready. Frankie was used to waking up early, but she wasn't used to someone demanding them to hurry up and get up. Still, the shock of it all did get her ass into gear. Frankie changed very quickly and put on her boots. This morning they had to wear their PT gear because they were going for a run first. This place called Currahee, which the men didn't tell her what it was, she'd soon find out.
"You like running, Frankie?" Dukeman asked her.
She shrugged, "not really…how?"
He smirked, "well, you're in for a fucking treat".
When they lined up outside, Frankie got to meet Matheson, their Platoon leader. The men were right, he was a good guy. And then she met Sobel.
"We will get up there under the thirty-minute mark!"
Frankie was tempted to rub her ears. He was very loud.
"If you do not reach the top in under thirty-minutes. You will do it again and again, until you can. Do I make myself clear?!"
"Yes, sir!"
Sobel looked at his watch, "go!"
As it turned out, Currahee was a mountain. Frankie had never run up a mountain before. The terrain was uneven and hard on her feet and the slope was almost a straight line. It was three-miles up, which didn't sound a lot, but it felt like Everest when running up. And after only one mile of running, Frankie's chest was tight, and her lungs were on fire. They had to run in their boots which was hard and heavy to drag up the hill. And the heat, Frankie wasn't used to such warm weather, it rained daily in Scotland. The flies were at it again as well and she must have written out an entire essay of complaints in her head. This is what her Grandad and father had to do for basic training? There was nothing basic about this. Frankie hadn't even been here a full day and already she found this difficult. And she wanted to turn back around, run down this fucking mountain and get her tiny arse back on that ship. But for some reason, Frankie didn't. It didn't matter that her body hated this, and it didn't matter that she was exhausted because there was a side to Frankie that just popped out of nowhere. She wasn't going to quite on her first day and that was final.
Reaching the peak of that mountain was the biggest achievement of Frankie's life. Sobel was at the top, clocking everyone's time and she had one minute to spare. He didn't say anything to her, he just briefly looked at her before demanding Frankie to run back down. And some would tell you that running down was easier and they were right but running down rough terrain with sore feet was hellish. Frankie didn't run down, not really, she flew down that mountain. It was steep, and Frankie was skinny and small, so once her legs started to carry her down, they ended up going so fast that she didn't think she'd ever stop. But they did stop, and Frankie had just experienced her first run with the men which wasn't a fail. And though covered in sweat and so close to vomiting, Hoobler laughed and slapped her arm.
"Good job".
She gave him a tiny nod.
Yeah, it could have gone worse. But Frankie could do better.
After Currahee, it was PT. During physical training, Frankie learned that she had a lot to work on. For one, she was rubbish at push-ups and pull-ups. Winters was pushing her to do more than five but every time Frankie tried for the man, her arms would shake and she'd fall back on the ground again. Sit-ups were okay, she managed to do fifty no problem because she wasn't using any upper body strength. But Frankie had a lot of conditioning to do and she had to catch up with the men, who could do over thirty. It was a little embarrassing for her, actually. Some of the men sniggered when she fell onto the ground after five. Frankie didn't have a temper, so she allowed them to laugh. It wouldn't be like this forever. Not unless she let it happen again.
Pick your battles, that's what her Grandad used to tell her.
So, when a guy from another Company tripped her up in the mess hall during lunch, Frankie decided not to fight back. It wouldn't have ended well for her, she wasn't strong enough to fight them and she wasn't sharp enough to give them lip back. She collected her tray and got back up and headed over to Easy. Hoobler smiled when she sat down next to him.
"I could beat him up?"
Frankie shook her head, "nah…it's alright".
He sighed, "man…if someone did that to me, they wouldn't have legs to walk on".
She snorted softly, "tough lad, eh?"
"Oh, you bet, Tiny".
Frankie tutted lightly and looked up at him, "the hell is that you're calling me?"
"Your name". Dukeman commented, who was sitting opposite them. "Suits you, don't it?"
Shaking her head, Frankie looked down at the food. She had no idea what was about to go into her mouth, but she put it in anyway. Frankie's eyes widened, and she grabbed her water, taking three large gulps to push the food down.
"Not a fan of chilli, kid?" Martin teased lightly.
"How is that chilli?" Frankie hissed, coughing softly. "It's fucking hot, man".
"Jesus Christ!" Guarnere, a man from 2nd Platoon, exclaimed. "Someone's 'gotta educate her".
Hoobler waved him off, "it's chilli, Tiny. You know? It's a type of hot food".
Frankie mixed the chilli in with the rice, "yeah? We don't get that back home".
"At all?" Blithe queried. "What foods back home, Frankie?"
"Normal food". She mumbled, "potatoes, bacon, carrots, chicken – normal things".
"Welcome to America". Hoobler chuckled, "land of the finest dishes".
Frankie had a very moody face, so a lot of men tended to avoid her. It wasn't her fault her face looked the way it did. And she wasn't a moody person at all, it's just the way she looked. She didn't have a wide emotional range. Frankie wasn't a confrontational person and she didn't like attention, which was why she kept quiet and kept her head down from Sobel. If he singled her out, Frankie would feel mildly uncomfortable and would possibly want to run away. She hated confrontation and she hated getting blamed for something she didn't do. Sometimes she wished a bag was put over her head, it would make training much easier. Especially during lectures.
Frankie sat in the back, head down and taking notes. Lt Nixon was taking lectures this afternoon and it was her first time attending one. They weren't so bad, Nixon went over how to read a map correctly and starting to ease in on how to use a compass. Frankie had always liked learning, she liked school growing up. She didn't get into trouble, the teachers liked her, and she studied hard because of the idea of going to university. The only reason the teachers like Frankie was because she was quiet and turned in good work. Frankie had a good head on her shoulders, it was just her face she needed to change.
Two weeks had passed since Frankie walked into Toccoa and the men realized that she wasn't going anywhere. Her strength had improved greatly, she was now able to do twenty push-ups and ten pull-ups. Things were going great. And though running up Currahee was a stick in the mud she was getting better at running and her feet stopped hurting as much. Sobel was still pushing them to their limit. He'd often yell out, "hi-ho silver!" While running, or "the Japs are 'gonna get you!" It was annoying at the time, but the men made fun of him at night before lights out. Frankie enjoyed the men's company, they were easy-going and nice guys. They had a good sense of humour, vibrant personalities and were doing remarkable in training. Frankie liked them a lot, maybe even better than her friends back home. The men from the other Companies had stopped tripping her up, when a few guys from Easy told them to back off. Frankie was thankful for that, it was beginning to get degrading being tripped up. Though, they did wonder why she hadn't stuck up for herself.
"I was". She told Martin with a shrug, "just from walking away".
Training in Toccoa was the hardest thing Frankie had ever done in her life. Each man had their reasons and beliefs for continuing. Those who washed-out left because it was tough. And those who remained stayed because it was tough. They didn't sign up to fight along side good, they signed up to train with the best. Frankie was just starting to realize that now. So, she had to push herself to become the best, because she didn't want to let anyone down. That meant doing push-ups after lights out, so she could achieve fifty. And that meant spending more time at the bars, so she could achieve thirty-three pull-ups. And that meant running the assault course more than once, so she could get over a seven-foot wall. Most days, Frankie was beyond the point of exhaustion. But the results made up for it. This was the fittest she had ever been.
Friday night marches were an annoyance. They had to march for twelve-miles in full gear. Bull did ask Winters why Sobel had signalled them out, because none of the other Companies had to do this. Bull then came to the conclusion that Sobel hated them. Which Winters remarked with.
"Lt Sobel does not hate Easy Company…he just hates you".
You weren't allowed to drink during this march. However, Christenson hadn't been feeling well that night and did have to drink from his canteen, to save himself from fainting. Sobel yelled at him when they returned and had to pour out their canteens, proving to the man that they hadn't touched their water. Christenson was forced to repeat the march alone. It was a stick up the arse, Sobel was horrible. No one respected the man because he yelled at them twenty-four-seven, revoked their weekend passes just because he could and treated them all like shit. The other CO's were different towards their Company. They didn't hand out punishments for the smallest infraction and they didn't hold them for prisoner in this camp. Frankie didn't mind that not leaving camp, she wouldn't know where to go but she did feel for the rest, who had families and loved ones they'd probably be missing.
Thank God for Sunday's, their only day off.
Frankie hadn't received any letters from her dad. It was still too early to get any. And she didn't feel left out when everyone else got a letter from home because while they read their letters, Frankie sat down by the playing fields and watched Able Company play basketball. She had a book on her lap and the breeze by her side. Sunday's were the best days.
"Boop".
Frankie swatter Luz's hand away.
"What are we reading today?" He asked, sitting down next to her. "Oh, The Hobbit?"
"Yeah". She mumbled, "good read. You should educate yourself, Geo".
He huffed out a laugh, "funny".
"I try".
George sighed and laid down on the grass, hands resting behind his head. He placed a cigarette between his lips and sparked it up, taking in his first long drag. They were quiet for a few minutes, Frankie managed to read a few pages before George started talking. This had started becoming their routine a few weeks ago. George didn't feel sorry for her, but he also didn't want her to be alone. "How's the rifle training going?"
Frankie sighed, "terrible".
"Really?"
She shrugged, "I mean…I could do better". She told him, "I keep on flinching".
George smirked, "flinching?"
"Aye – the shells keep hitting me or try to".
He chuckled, "Frankie…they never do. The more you flinch, the worse you'll be".
"Yeah, no shit". Frankie mumbled.
"It gets easier". He pointed out lightly, "your targets are alright. You just 'gotta see your rifle as a friend or something".
She snorted, "fucking hell".
"I'm serious". George said, "give it a name, try that".
"Jesus, alright…eh, let's call it…Scottie".
"Yeah, that's a good one". He nodded in approval, "I called mine Rita".
Frankie's lips twitched, "braw".
"Huh?"
She shook her head, "it's a nice name".
"I think so too".
If there was ever a moment where Frankie wished she hadn't left her bed, it was a Tuesday and rainy afternoon. Sobel had been promoted to Captain and Winters 1st Lieutenant the day before. They were happy for Winters, not so much Sobel. And the newly promoted Captain had ordered Easy of light duties after lunch that day, so they all got stuck into spaghetti covered in tomato sauce with one slice of bread on the side. Winters was overseeing things from behind the counter, making sure Easy all had their share of food. And Frankie decided she liked spaghetti, even if Perconte criticised it. He was Italian and swore that his mother could make a much better sauce. Still, it didn't stop Hoobler from trying to get seconds. It was an enjoyable meal and a good day, they were told it was lectures after lunch, so they stuffed their faces. And then, Sobel and Sargent Evans came barging into the mess hall.
"Orders changed, get up! Lectures are cancelled! Easy Company are running up Currahee!"
Frankie sighed quietly and looked down at her plate, which was almost empty.
"Three-miles up! Three-miles down! Hi-ho silver!"
It was a terrible experience. Running up Currahee would always take effort but running up Currahee on a full stomach was like running with led in your gut. If you weren't puking, you felt sick enough too and if you didn't feel sick, then you didn't eat enough spaghetti. Frankie was jumping over puddles of sick left by her friends and Hoobler was chucking up beside her, which almost set her off.
"You're a washout Private Hoobler! You should pack up those ears and go home!" And to make matters worse, Sobel was taunting each and everyone of them. "Are you next, Private Hughes! You look real sick, you know that?!"
Frankie took in a deep breath through her nose. No, she couldn't give him the satisfaction. She had to keep this meal down because it was such a good meal, Frankie couldn't afford to lose any more weight. That's what kept her going, she was already skinny enough as it was. If she dropped anymore weight, she'd fly. When Luz started to sing, they knew everything was going to be okay. And when Winters joined them on their run, they knew they could beat Sobel. It was an experience during training no one would forget. And there was plenty more where that came from.
On Thanksgiving, they didn't get a feast or a turkey dinner. Easy had to do a hard training exercise. They had to crawl under barbed wire with guts from an animal on the top, while someone fired out live rounds from a machinegun above their heads, to force them to stay in the mud and guts. Because if you lifted your head, you were dead. Frankie counted that training exercise as one of the most mentally challenging things she had ever done. Thankfully, no one got shot but it sure topped the spaghetti incident; which no one spoke about anymore.
But that wasn't to be their greatest but worst moment.
Easy had almost completed training in Toccoa. They had practised jumping from ledges and landing correctly. They had broken a record of completing the assault course in three minutes. And they had run up Currahee almost every day for almost four months. What else was left? Well, Col Sink had heard of the Japanese beating a world record on a march from one point to another, which was 100 miles and they covered it in seventy-two hours. And he wanted his 2nd Battalion to beat them. So, on the 1st of December, the 506th prepared to leave from Toccoa on a 118-mile march to Atlanta Point Five and from there, they'd get on a train which would take them to Benning. They were almost there, once at Fort Benning, they'd complete their first jump from a C-47 and finally earn their jump wings.
They just needed to get over this march first.
It started off by marching up Currahee and it soon started to rain, with some snow. Once over Currahee, they headed outback on the slippery and muddy trails. They sloshed, they fell, and they pulled themselves back up again. It was miserable. Everyone was soaked, and breaks were few and short. By the nightfall, they had covered forty-miles and the rain and stopped, now they were left with a powerful and cold wind. The pup-tents didn't offer them much shelter and their sleeping bags couldn't provide them with enough warmth. They were perched on a bare hill, with no trees blocking the wind. And they couldn't get the field stoves to light, so they had bread smeared with jam and butter instead.
"What'd you call this, Tiny?" Hoobler asked her.
"Jam butty".
Dukeman chuckled, "huh – I like that one".
Blithe was shaking so much that he couldn't get his roll to open, Frankie helped him out. He gave her a tiny smile in thanks, while she made sure to spread enough filling into his roll before handing it back to him. The four of them decided to share the one tent, hoping that would protect them from the wind. It offered them some warmth, but they didn't get much sleep that night. And in the morning, their feet had swollen up, making it almost impossible to put their boots on; they had to loosen up their laces in order to get their feet inside. It took a few-miles for their bodies to stop aching and their muscles to un-stiffen but they got back into the swing of things.
"You've 'gotta be used to this, right?" Floyd asked her.
"I don't sleep outside". Frankie muttered.
"Ha. Ha".
"Morning, boys – Frankie". Lipton greeted them. "Everyone okay?"
"Great, Sarge". Perconte remarked, "forty-miles today, huh? Thirty-eight tomorrow".
"Well, when you put it that way". Luz said, "it doesn't seem long at all".
"It's too early for you to be an ass, Georgie".
"Who's an ass?" Martin asked.
"Luz". Bull said, "Perc's just having a moment".
"Ah, come on, Bull". Perconte said, "I don't have moments".
Lipton chuckled, "well, I'm glad to see you're all doing fine".
"Anyone dropped out, Lip?" Martin asked him.
"Not to my knowledge". He replied, "why? You want a ride in the ambulance, John?"
"Not me, no". He said, "we're doing just fine".
Frankie looked at her rifle and sighed, everything was frozen.
"What's that, Tiny?" Hoobler asked.
"Scottie's fucked". She mumbled.
"He'll warm-up". He said, "most of our gear has frozen".
"Thank God we don't got nothing to shoot". Dukeman said, "we'd be screwed".
"Hope it don't rust". Blithe said quietly, "you know who'll hate that".
"Can't help it". Hoobler shrugged, "we'll clean them up on the train".
"Ah, the train". Dukeman sighed in content, "can't wait for that fucking train".
"Can't wait for you either, Bud".
Things got worse that night for Blithe. He hadn't been feeling all that great during their march and by the time the four of them settled into their pup-tent, Blithe had taken a turn for the worst. He had a fever and was coughing up his lung.
"Jesus, Alby". Hoobler whispered.
Frankie had her hand pressed on his forehead, looking a little worried.
"What do we do?" Dukeman asked, also sounding concerned.
Rubbing her lips together, Frankie got onto her feet. "Wait here, I'll get Gene and an officer".
Hoobler nodded and took her spot next to Blithe, "right, Tiny".
The wind had stopped and most of the men were able to eat something hot that night. Frankie's main concern was Blithe at the moment, who would probably need to be pulled out from the march. He was sick, had probably caught a chill which soon spread to his chest. And Frankie couldn't find a medic anywhere. But she did find Lieutenant Winters, who was speaking with Malarkey from his Platoon. Frankie walked over to them, just as the Lt was getting up.
"Sir?"
He frowned a bit and looked down at her. "Private Hughes".
"Eh – Alby's sick, sir…I can't find a medic".
"Private Blithe?"
Frankie nodded, "yeah, sir. Blithe's not well, sir".
"Alright". He said, "let's go see him".
She led the way through their campsite for that night and stopped once they reached the tent. Winters crouched in front of the three Privates inside, both shielding their sick friend from the wind and rain. The Lieutenant frowned a little, staring over at Blithe, who looked pale and sweaty.
"You'll find doc five tents up, Private". Winters told Frankie softly.
"Yes, sir".
Despite being sick, Blithe refused to leave. And he claimed he was feeling okay, he just had a bad cough and a slight fever. Frankie would beg to differ, that man was as sick as a dog. But if he didn't want to leave, then he was staying. Frankie took her spot next to Blithe, Gene had left them with a rag, which was soaked in cold water. Frankie placed the rag on Blithe's forehead, hoping to get his temperature down. She had to admire him, he was willing to stay. Frankie didn't think she could have been as brave as Blithe was in that moment. But then again, maybe she would have stayed with her friends after all.
The final day was the hardest. Instead of wet and mushy grounds, they were soon marching on concrete. The hard ground was sore on their feet, which had been damaged by getting wet and being left to freeze. Each step was like a stab up the sole. It was awful. Blithe wasn't doing much better but he wasn't getting any worse. Frankie had stayed up with him all night, making sure his fever didn't progress. Gene had come by a few times during the night to check up on him and he told her off for not getting any rest each time he came around.
"They would do the same for me". Frankie had told him quietly.
Still, she was marching now, and they wouldn't stop marching until they reached Point Five Atlanta. They had one more night stop before they reached Point Five and everyone was beyond exhausted by this point. Frankie didn't know how some of them did it, especially Malarkey, who's shins had swollen up to the size of two balloons. But by some miracle, they had made it into Point Five, with a marching band and a crowed to greet them. It was a fantastic reception and an even bigger achievement for the 506th.
...
"So, do we feel like we're ready to be Army Paratroopers?"
"Yes, Sargent!"
"I hope so. This will be the first of five exits from a C-47 aircraft scheduled for today. Upon successful completion of your fifth and final jump, you'll be certified Army Paratroopers".
Easy were all gathered outside, sitting on the ground and staring up at the flight Sargent. This was it, they had made it into Benning and they were going to get their jump wings.
"There'll be a lot of men jumping from the sky today. Hopefully under deployed canopies". He let out a tiny chuckle, "jumping from 1000 feet AGL, in sticks of twelve jumpers per aircraft. All you have to do is remember what you were taught. And I guarantee you, gravity will take care of the rest. And gentlemen, lady, rest assured, any refusals in the aircraft or at the door, and I guarantee you will be out of the Airborne".
They had two hours to pack their own chutes and reserve chutes before making the jump. Some were nervous, but most were just excited to finally make the jump and became Paratroopers. At least then they'd have earned more respect. Though they doubted Sobel would treat them any different. Not that they cared what he thought, not anymore. Frankie had packed her chute and strapped it across her upper body. She had her helmet on and her gloves. Everyone was ready, and they still had forty minutes left.
"The waiting is killing me". Dukeman was saying, "how long we got now?"
"Forty minutes still". Martin told him, "you asked forty seconds ago".
"Jesus Christ".
Hoobler looked at him, "nervous, Bud?"
"Nope". He said, "just 'wanna get this one over with".
"I've pissed six times". Cobb said, "in the space of one hour".
"Man…you got it bad". Floyd chided, "flying ain't so bad".
"Have much experience with jumping, Tab?" Luz mumbled. "Last I checked, you ain't ever done this before".
"I'm just saying…it won't be that bad".
Martin walked over to Frankie and crouched a little, so he could yank on her belly strap. Frankie let out a guff of air, he grinned and straightened himself up.
"Wasn't tight enough, kid".
"Alright". She wheezed, "cheers".
Hoobler laughed and clapped her on the shoulder, "you ready for this, Tiny? It's 'gonna be a big drop for us, but huge for you".
"Shit. You're so funny, man". Frankie mumbled, "I hope your ears don't take you up any higher".
"Oh!" Dukeman laughed, "Hoobs, what'd you say to that?"
Hoobler was laughing still, "I think she's turning into us".
"Such a crime". Luz grinned.
"Boys getting spunk". Bull commented, while puffing on his cigar.
"Guys, we're ready". Christenson said, who had been pacing back and forth outside the barrack.
"It hasn't been forty minutes". Dukeman frowned.
He shrugged, "we're doing it earlier".
"Thank God for that".
Frankie sat between Martin and Hoobler. It was a tense few minutes until the plane engines fired up and she couldn't hear herself think. For some of them, this was their first time on a plane and that included Frankie. She found take-off unpleasant, going up into the air caused her ears to pop and it was pretty painful. Still, they weren't in the air for long because once they reach one thousand feet, the red light went on.
"Get ready!" The jumpmaster said.
Frankie leaned forwards, clip in hand.
"Stand-up!"
They all got onto their feet.
"Hook-up!"
Frankie had to stand on the balls of her feet to hook herself on the line.
"Equipment check!"
With one hand on the clip, she used the other to check herself out.
"Sound off equipment check!"
From twelve to one, each person sounded off the guy in front of them and it was then that Frankie realized her error. She was second to jump. As soon as Martin leaped from the plane, Frankie was soon standing by the door, hands against the opening, ready to push herself out. The jumpmaster gave her back a clap.
"Go!"
And with a great heave, she was soon jumping out the door. Frankie counted in her head and looked up, watching as her chute came out from her back. Good, she was safe. And she could enjoy the view and enjoy having the biting air nip her face. It was so fresh up there and things were as clear as day. For a moment, Frankie forgot this was apart of her training and saw it as a fun activity you might do with friends, if you were a thrill seeker. Frankie didn't know what she was in that moment, only that she was floating and drawing closer to the ground.
The best part in all of this was Christmas day. On boxing day, they'd complete their fifth and final jump and finally get their jump wings. After that, they were given a ten-day furlough. Which worked well for the men, Frankie however, would have spend her time in Benning because her home was twelve days across the Atlantic. Still, she had two more days with Easy before they left camp and saw their families and loved ones for the first time since arriving at Toccoa. And Christmas was a fine event. They had the day off and the staff had even made them a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Frankie got stuck right into dinner and was even given a glass of wine. After her first sip, she decided not to drink anymore – wine was disgusting. But the meal was perfect, and the company was even better.
"Man…I'm stuffed". Hoobler's face was pressed against his pillow. "I ate too much".
Frankie was sitting up in bed, munching on a Hershey's bar.
"Goddammit, Frankie". Dukeman said with a lazy smile, "how are you still eating?"
Frankie shrugged, "dunno…I might regret this".
"What are you 'gonna do for ten-days?"
She shrugged again, "I'm sure I'll find something".
"Why don't you come back with me?" Dukeman offered, "you'd love it. I live on a ranch, you'll feel right at home".
Frankie swallowed what was in her mouth and stared at him. He pulled an amused face.
"What?"
She shook her head, "nothing – eh – really?"
Dukeman nodded, "sure…you'll have a great time. We'll go riding, you can finish your book. It'll be fun".
And it did sound great, Frankie would have said yes. "It's alright, mate". She told him quietly, "I mean, I'd love to – like, a lot but…nah, it should be just yourself".
"What'd you mean?"
"Well, it's – it's like a moment, you know? Your parents should just see you".
Dukeman frowned a little, "are you sure, Frankie?"
Frankie nodded, "aye, yeah, I'm sure, Bud".
The night after they completed their final jump, Easy threw a party to celebrate. They had plenty of beers to drink and many cheers. Their jump wings shined on their uniforms. It was also the night Frankie, Dukeman, Hoobler and Blithe were assigned to Martin's squad, who had just made Sargent. Honestly, it couldn't have been better. The four of them were already fairly tight at it was and they worked well together, and even better with Martin leading them. And he was chuffed as well, he liked working with them.
"Ten-hut!"
They all got up when Sink arrived at the scene.
"Well, at ease Paratroopers".
Frankie's lips twitched, while she stood at ease.
"Good evening, Easy Company!"
"Evening, sir!"
"Now, Parachute Infantry is a brand-new concept in American Military history. But by God, the 506th is 'gonna forge that brand-new concept into victory!"
They all gave out a cheer.
"Yes, sir!"
Sink smiled, "I want you all to know that I'm dam proud of each and every one of you. Now, you deserve this party".
Grant, who was now a Sargent, handed Sink a beer.
"Thank you, Sargent Grant".
"Sir".
"So, I want you to have fun, and remember our motto; Currahee!"
"Currahee!"
Frankie had one beer, that was it. Eyes were looking her way, making sure she didn't have any more than one. It was a little annoying only being sixteen. Not that she was fond of the taste anyway, but it would have been nice just to fit in for that night. Frankie did enough her night all the same, because her friends made it fun. Guarnere was downing pints, Toye was staggering and singing and the atmosphere was merry. Even the officers were enjoying themselves. Though Frankie did notice that Winters hadn't touch a drop of alcohol. Not that it mattered, it was just an observation.
"You're alright, Frankie".
"Yeah".
Frankie was helping Floyd to bed. It seemed he had one too many.
"I mean – you look moody as fuck but…you're alright".
Nodding, she pushed him down and rolled Floyd onto his side. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. Frankie smiled a little before she turned to her own bed. He was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow for going home. Frankie was going to miss them a lot. And when the morning arrived, despite their headaches and churning stomachs, they were still excited to be seeing friends and family again. And when they did leave, Frankie was left with a few guys from the other Companies, Nixon and Winters. Or so she thought.
Ten minutes after the camp was almost clear, a very familiar man came out from a black car.
"Jesus Christ". Frankie whispered.
"Ah, there you are".
Still grimacing a little, she walked over to him. "Hi, Grandad".
General John Hughes had come for a visit, it seemed. And wasn't Sink just delighted. Frankie knew this was going to be bad, her Grandad wouldn't have travelled across the world if he didn't have something important to tell her.
"You look very well, Frankie". He told her, "very smart. We much to talk about".
"Did you – did you fly here?"
"Of course, Frankie!" He exclaimed with a laugh, "I wouldn't take a cruise now, would I?"
Frankie shrugged, "maybe – I don't know, Grandad".
John's smiled was soon wiped from his face, "let's speak in private, Frankie".
"Okay".
Frankie didn't know where else to go, but her barrack. John didn't seem to mind, though his house was grand now, he was used to muddy trenches and sleeping in a barn for the better part of his childhood. Money hadn't changed him much, it just gave him more opportunities. So, they sat down opposite each other on a bed each. John sighed quickly and took a drink from his flask, which was filled with fine Scottish whiskey.
"You dad's dead".
Frankie blinked. "Eh?"
John sighed again, "your dad's dead".
She cleared her throat, "yeah – I – I got that part, Grandad".
"Heart attack". He went on, "doctors couldn't give me a bloody reason. Its just one of those things, apparently".
Frankie rubbed the back of her neck, "that explains the lack of letters".
John nodded slowly, "yes…it's terribly sad, Frankie. He was very young to have died from such an aging disease".
"Yeah, that's the tragic part in all of this, eh?" Shaking her head, Frankie got onto her feet. "So, what now?"
"Well, we had his funeral-"
"eh?" She pulled a face, "already?"
"Yes, well, it happened in September, Frankie". John explained.
"Sep – Grandad, that was three months ago". She mumbled, "you couldn't have written, no?"
"It's not the sort of news one puts to paper, Frankie".
"And what does that mean?" She asked, "you want me back, or something?"
John shook his head, "no, I put you with the men for a reason. I believe the discipline has done you good, Frankie".
Frankie frowned, "I haven't been a bad person".
"No, you've just remained quiet". He said, "and the same".
"I didn't know that was a bad thing".
John got up, "Frankie…fighting for something good, does you good. Having to become strong because there is no other choice, brings out the best in people. And it will bring out the best in you, I know it will. When you come home, you'll never be the same".
Frankie looked at him, "if I come home".
"Well, yes…there's always that". John uttered quietly, "but even still, you will be remembered as something greater than you ever saw yourself".
"I never asked for that". Frankie said, "you and dad, you wanted that for me".
"Because it's worth it". John urged, "it's unique and it's beautiful. It's poetry, Frankie and you're our leading role".
"That doesn't make any sense".
"What?"
Frankie shook her head, "leading role? Poetry. It doesn't fit".
John sighed, "well…I don't suppose that matters".
"Your metaphors are shit".
He rolled his eyes, "Frankie…".
"Right, sorry". She rubbed her lips together.
John cleared his throat, "your dad didn't leave you much. Just the farm".
"The horses?"
"They're being sold". He told her, "to the Army".
Frankie almost glared, "the Army don't really need horses anymore".
"Some sections do".
"You're killing them".
John looked down at her, "I had no other choice".
"Fucking hell". Sighing, she sat back down again. "Alright – anything else?"
"No. That's it".
"Okay". She nodded, "alright – well, you can go now".
John frowned, "don't you want to get out of camp for a while? See some of America?"
"Nah – nah, I'm alright here, cheers".
He crouched in front of her and placed his hands on her knees, "you know, I can already see the greatness in you, Frankie. I didn't need the Army for me to see it".
Frankie looked away from him, "right, thanks".
"Goodbye, dear".
When he left, Frankie scratched her hair and ended up placing her head into her hands for a moment, just to digest everything that her Grandad told her. Her dad was dead, the horses were gone, and her Grandad was terrible at metaphors. God, how she wished she had gone with Dukeman. Why did she have to be so bloody stupid? Closing her eyes, Frankie took in a deep breath and pulled her hands away from her face. She'd find out one day about her dad and the horses. Her Grandad would have caught up with her eventually.
Frankie walked out of the barrack, just as the black car left the camp. There he went.
"Frankie?"
She turned around and looked up.
"Everything okay?" Winters asked her.
"Yeah – fine, sir". Frankie responded.
Giving her a small smile, he placed a hand on her shoulder.
God, these ten-days were going to drag on.
For the first few days, Frankie slept in late and read all day. She finished The Hobbit and moved onto Doctor Dolittle. And after a few chapters from that book, Frankie left the barrack and took a walk around the camp. What did he mean about greatness? Was he referring to her bland personality? Frankie couldn't understand her Grandad half the time and it wasn't just down to his metaphors. Did he honestly believe she was great? Frankie was as bland as white rice. She was quiet, kept mostly to herself and had a face like a smacked-arse. She could jump out of a plane, follow orders but could she be a good soldier? Frankie wouldn't know until they got out into combat. But even then, she doubted herself.
Frankie never used to be like this. She remembered a time when she'd laugh until she couldn't breathe. And she remembered smiling because her mum would bring home unexpected gifts. Like a puppy after school, or a freshly baked cake on a Sunday. But then she remembered the days when her mum never left the house or spent hours in her bedroom crying. Or when she'd get so angry, that she'd lock her only child in the cupboard because Frankie had tipped over a glass of water and soaked the carpet. Her mum's moods went from high to lows, so when Frankie for older she decided to stay natural and be the stable one. For both of them. Life was hard growing up with an unstable mum and a dad who was too depressed to look after Frankie and used up all of his energy on his wife.
The way Frankie saw it, emotions brought out the worst in people. It was better just to stay flat.
...
In March they moved to camp Mackall for more jump training and field exercises. Camp Mackall was probably the nicest camp they had stayed in. The barracks were spacious, the food was great, and they even had a movie theatre. Of course, they didn't spend a lot of time watching movies because training took up more hours in the day. And it was in Mackall where they realized that not only was Sobel still an asshole, but he was an asshole who was useless in the field. On their first training exercise, they had to plan and execute an attack. Sobel had to lead them, of course, he was their Commanding Officer. The only problem being, he had gotten them lost and they were now stuck in the wrong position with the enemy team surrounding them.
Sobel didn't like being wrong or being told what to do, especially by Winters, who had suggested they sit tight and let the enemy team come into their killing zone. Sobel ignored this plan and told everyone to move out. It ended up with ninety-five percent of the Company getting killed because of this reckless behaviour. Which left everyone feeling tense because even though it wasn't real, it was real enough for them to know that Sobel was more than likely to get them killed when it came to the real deal.
"What the fuck are we 'gonna do?" Hoobler whispered to his hands.
"Keep going?" Dukeman replied, "Hoobs, we can't do nothing".
Frankie raised her head and spotted Martin, Lipton, Floyd and Bull having a quiet conversation in the back of the barrack. She looked away from them, when Martin caught her staring. They were obviously planning something, Frankie hoped it worked.
"They put him in charge for a reason".
"Alby, the army made a mistake". Hoobler said, "a huge fucking mistake".
"Why did Matheson leave?" Dukeman asked.
"Cause of Sobel". Blithe told him, "I heard that Nixon is heading up to Battalion with him".
"Fucking Christ". Hoobler shook his head, "maybe we should go too, huh?"
Frankie looked at him, "nah…don't do that, Hoobs".
"We could die because of him, Tiny".
"Mate, there's…there's fuck all we can do". She told him quietly. "If you leave, you'll get drummed out".
Hoobler sighed and laid down on his bed, "what a shit storm".
"Yeah. That's pretty much it".
Lieutenant Harry Welsh became the new leader of 1st Platoon. He was a funny Irish man, who probably possessed the same drinking habits as Nixon, though no one ever mentioned it. Welsh was easy to like; Winters and Nixon became close friends with him. And better yet, Welsh actually liked his Platoon. They had one full day of getting to know their new officer, until the entire 2nd Battalion were loaded up onto a train. They had no idea where they were going, not even the Platoon leaders knew.
"Maybe we're jumping". Blithe mumbled quietly.
"I don't think so, Alby". Dukeman said, "not right off the bat".
"So, where are we going do you think?"
Hoobler shrugged, "got me. Maybe Africa or something?"
Frankie looked away from the window, "it's 'gonna be somewhere".
"Yeah, no shit, Tiny".
"Hope it's not the fucking jungle". She said, "I wouldn't last an hour".
"Why? Cause you're so pale?" Dukeman grinned.
Frankie nodded, "aye, cause 'am pale".
Hoobler turned to the seats on the other side of them, "hey, Sarge?"
"What?" Lipton mumbled, who was engrossed in a game of cards with Martin, Guarnere and Toye.
"You know where we're going?"
"Just as much as you, boy".
Guarnere grinned and tapped the end of his nose, "nothing gets passed this old dog".
Dukeman frowned, "so, you know?"
"I know something". He said, "I just don't know where we go from there".
"Will you tell us?"
"No, get lost".
Frankie's lips twitched. God, Guarnere was brilliant. He was a fantastic Sargent. He got promoted during Toccoa and really looked after everyone. If you ever had a problem, you went to Guarnere. He'd sort it out. And the exact same could be said about Lipton and the rest of the NCO's but Guarnere knew everything. He knew who was chickenshit, he knew when someone was lying to him and he knew how to talk to Sobel. That was a talent in itself, talking to Sobel. Guarnere put it down to being street smart from growing up in Philadelphia. They were lucky to have someone as smart as him. Frankie wasn't street smart in the slightest, she grew up in the middle of nowhere.
Hoobler crossed his arms with a grin, "count on you to know, huh, Bill?"
Guarnere looked up from his hand of cards, "don't be snarky, kid".
"I wasn't".
"Yeah, good".
Frankie didn't miss that grin shared between the other NCO's.
Dukeman chuckled, "come on, we can figure this out".
"We can?" Blithe wondered, "this train could be going anywhere, Bud".
"So, where isn't it going?"
"What's north-east?" Frankie asked, "that's the direction this trains going".
"Bingo". Guarnere smiled, "she's getting warm".
"Ah – fuck". She whispered, "we better not be getting on a fucking boat".
"What'd you mean?" Hoobler frowned.
"New York". Guarnere said, "that's where we're headed".
The others looked at him.
"No idea what happens after that". He shrugged, "so, don't fucking ask me".
Frankie rubbed the back of her neck and looked back out of the window. God, she hated ships. And after two weeks in camp Shanks without the privilege of exploring New York, the entire 101st Airborne division boarded the troop ship. It was going to be twelve days before they reached Liverpool docks and from there, they'd stay with Able Company in Aldbourne until they made a drop into Europe. So, they were to fight the Germans. At least Frankie wouldn't have to worry about being in a jungle, she just had to worry about Nazi's, the SS and all things German. But first, they had to get over the Atlantic and try and survive twelve days on a crowded ship.
They waved America goodbye with the sun setting behind the Statue of Liberty. It was a bittersweet moment, she looked so perfect, but no one knew when they'd see the States and their home again. Frankie was used to leaving her country, most of the men weren't. And she remembered how crappy it felt to leave Scotland, so she could sympathise with them. Once they said their final goodbyes, Easy were ushered down to the belly of the ship with the rest of the troops. They had to sleep two to a hammock because there wasn't enough to go around. And after just three hours of being in the bottom of the ship, it was already starting to small.
This was going to be a long twelve days.
Fish chowder was their balanced diet. They had it three times a day. And Sobel had tried to get Easy to do PT on their first morning. There wasn't enough space and if anything, they hated him even more now for even trying. No one wanted to do PT on a crowded ship. In fact, they didn't want to do anything on this ship. It was hot, smelly and tempers were flaring. Liebgott and Guarnere got into a fight because Guarnere called Sobel a "prick of Abraham", meaning he was a Jew and Liebgott was a Jew. So, the two of them had a fight about it. It was dumb. Frankie didn't get involved but she was tired of all the fights between the other Companies as well. You could accidently brush shoulders with someone and that would cause a fight. So, to avoid all of this, Frankie stayed put and if she ever did need some air, she'd head up to the deck when the others were asleep. Sometimes she was alone, other times she wasn't.
One night, Frankie was leaning over the rails, puking her guts up. And Martin was rubbing her back. It was miserable. She had to stand on the first two bars of the rail, just so she could hit the water and not the deck. At least Martin was there with her. Good old Johnny Martin. He really took care of his squad.
"You're breaking my heart, kid".
Frankie snorted and shook her head.
"You feel better?" He asked, with the smallest of frowns.
She climbed down from the bars and nodded, while swiping her sleeve across her mouth.
Martin shrugged, "we'll stay up here for a bit, alright?" He then added lightly, "at least the fish won't go hungry, huh?"
Frankie smiled a little, that was pretty funny. And Martin grinned.
"Ah…I knew I'd get you smiling one day, kid". He told her.
"Must be a wizard, Sarge".
Martin chuckled, "sit down, Frankie, get a rest".
The sea had been rough for several hours, though not rough enough to close off the deck. Frankie sat on the ground beside Martin and leaned against the railings. It was quiet up here and the fresh air helped with her unsettled stomach. Too much fish chowder and too many waves, resulting in puking into the Atlantic.
"So, I 'gotta ask". Martin said, "I heard you Grandad made it up to Benning".
Frankie rubbed the back of her neck, "eh – yeah, he did".
"Surprised?"
She snorted, "you bet, Sarge".
Martin smiled a little, "couldn't have been anything good?"
Frankie sighed softly, "nah…my dad sort of died".
"Ah, shit, kid". He mumbled softly, "I'm sorry to hear that".
She shook her head, "I wasn't – well, not really…it's alright, Sarge".
"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"No". Frankie said quietly, "no, I – I didn't, no".
Martin placed a hand on her shoulder, "well, kid…you're never short on family".
Her lips twitched. "Nah…I'm not".
...
Aldbourne was how Frankie imagined the Shire to look.
It was a small village north east of Wiltshire. The houses were small, with neat gardens. They had two pubs, one grocer and a post office. The only thing Aldbourne had to offer was its beautiful countryside and polite locals. All in all, it seemed like a nice place to live. Easy and Able were billeted in a stable. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, the stables were big enough and they had a bed each. They were clean and next door was a large barn to serve as their mess hall and PX centre. Easy and Able were given a three-day-pass so they could get used to the English way. Guarnere had told them;
"Play it safe here and then we raise hell in London".
Because London was only two hours away from a bus, which came to the village every couple of hours. Frankie liked the idea of raising hell in London, but she didn't think she could actually do it. But now that she was seventeen, which she had "celebrated" on ship, Frankie was allowed to drink in her country. Her friends were very excited that she could join them in, raising hell, but Frankie was quite content for having a quiet and warm beer at the local pub.
"Why the fuck is it warm?" Hoobler whispered.
"I have no idea". Frankie said, "taste like cat piss".
So, she raised hell in London.
Most of Easy went off to London that night. They all got the coach together and arrived in the city at seven. A few of the village youth told them to head for the Bow and Arrow, which was on Soho square. It wasn't hard to find, the streets were all mapped out for the tourists and seeing as London was a heavy target for the Germans, most of them were already heading back home before blackout. When they got into the nightclub, the barkeep locked them in at nine, one hour before curfew. They were allowed to stay in the pub and wait until the morning. Which meant, they were all going to be hammered because it wasn't just warm beer here, there was whiskey, vodka, gin and rum to try out as well.
"This is 'gonna hurt tomorrow". Frankie mumbled, before taking a shot of whiskey. It burned her throat and made her eyes water. Guarnere was watching her, with a nod of approval.
"Well?"
She gave him a tiny nod, "aye – it's fine, Bill".
Grinning, he clapped her shoulder, "we'll take another two, barkeep!"
Well, at least it tasted better than warm beer.
The only problem is, it hurt coming back up.
Frankie flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink. She had a few sips of water, washed her face and decided to re-join the world in the barn. They had come back from London at six that morning, Frankie fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, still feeling a tiny bit drunk but one hundred percent sober and hungover now.
"Oh, boy". Dukeman grinned, "you look like-"
"shit". Frankie finished, voice croaky and sore.
Blithe felt sorry for her and brought her over a coffee with a tiny bit of milk and three sugars, just how she liked it.
"Cheers, Alby".
"Please, don't drink so much next time". He told her, "you ended up getting punched".
Pulling a face, Frankie touched her right eye. "Oh, shit. I did".
Hoobler nodded, "yeah…we jumped the yokel and his pals".
Clearing her throat, she took a sip of coffee. "Bet he regretted doing that".
"I think Guarnere's still picking flesh from his nails".
"Hoobs, that's fucking rank".
He chuckled, "sorry, Tiny".
Frankie snorted, "no you're not".
"No…but I'm sorry it made you feel worse".
They went back to training the next day, Frankie was finally feeling human once more. They kicked start training with a morning run, tactic movements and how to dig the perfect foxhole cover with Lipton. And then to top everything off, they put everything into work and had another field exercise. Sobel was leading 1st Platoon, they all envied the rest of Easy, who had the best officers leading them. Frankie and the rest found themselves in a cow field, Sobel was up by the fence with Tipper and Evans.
"Perconte. Luz. Get the men…take cover behind those trees!" Sobel ordered them.
"Alright, let's move it out!"
Soon, they were behind a tree line. Frankie's nose twitched, it had started to rain and Sobel had taken them somewhere off the grid.
"Perconte?" Sisk asked.
"Yeah?"
"Sobel's lost again, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he's lost".
Sisk sighed, "fucking Christ…".
"Hey, Luz. Can you do Major Horton?" Perconte asked him, giving him shoulder a nudge.
"Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?" Luz replied, doing his best Horton imitation.
"Maybe the good Major can goose this schmuck; get us moving?"
"No, no way. I'm not 'gonna-"
"oh, yeah, Luz! You 'gotta!"
The others were urging him on, Frankie looked up at Luz, wondering if he'd actually do it.
Eventually he nodded, "alright, just this once". Luz took in a deep breath, "is there a problem, Captain Sobel?!"
"Who said that?! Who broke silence?!"
The others began to laugh into their hands, silencing themselves.
"What is the Goddam hold-up, Mr Sobel?!"
"A fence, sir a – a barbed wired fence!"
"Oh, that dog just ain't 'gonna hunt!" Luz responded, shushing the others. "Now, you cut that fence and get this Goddam Platoon on the move!"
"Yes, sir!" Sobel replied back boldly.
Frankie slowly shook her head, he was an idiot.
They had lost the battle, 2nd Platoon had them cornered from all ends of the road. Still, they were in a good mood because Luz had pulled the ultimate prank. And now they had cows to worry about and Sobel would find out eventually. But they'd never tell him who did it. However, practical jokes always came and bit you in the ass. Because a few days later, Winters was lost to Battalion mess due to a court martial being looked-over. Winters had orders to inspect the latrines ten in the morning, Sobel changed that time fifteen minutes earlier. Apparently, he had sent a runner and tried to telephone him, but Winters was boarded with a family who didn't have a telephone and no runner found him. He had two choices, have his weekend pass revoked or appeal and request trial by court martial. Winters took the latter because Sobel was petty, and Winters didn't deserve any form of punishment. But it left Easy in a difficult situation. They were out a great officer and left with Sobel.
"What happens now?" Blithe as the three of them quietly.
Hoobler shook his head, "no idea, Alby".
"They'll think of something". Dukeman pointed out, "the NCO's".
"Well, I hope it's good".
When the barn was clear the next morning, Frankie hid behind a bale of hay and listened in to the NCO's having a private conversation.
"So, we're going through with this, right?" Guarnere asked them.
"Yeah". Lipton agreed. "But we all better be clear of the consequences".
"I don't care about the consequences". Martin told him.
"John, we could be lined up against a wall and shot".
Frankie frowned deeply. What the hell were they going to do?
Lipton continued, "now, I'm ready to face that. And every one of us had better be too".
"I will not follow that man into combat". Guarnere told him firmly.
"Me neither". Bull said.
"Alright. Then let's do it".
Frankie could hear paper and pencils being passed around on the table.
"I hereby…no longer…wish to serve…as a non-commissioned officer…in Easy Company".
She was doing so well at keeping herself hidden, until her foot slipped and hit a bucket. The pencils stopped writing and Frankie sighed, before she stepped out from behind the hay and gave them all a sheepish wave.
"Goddammit, kid". Martin muttered.
Frankie rubbed the back of neck and cleared her throat, "aye…that looked suspect".
"Oh, you think?" Guarnere shook his head, "the hell are you doing eavesdropping?"
"I knew you's were planning something". Frankie mumbled, looking down at her hands. "Just wanted to make sure you's were alright – or something".
Lipton smiled a little, "it's 'gonna be fine, Frankie".
"Oh, aye, clearly". Frankie remarked, with a tiny amount of sarcasm. "Mutiny's the only way around this?"
"Yeah, boy". Bull told her, "it's serious".
"Yeah…it's fucking serious". She rubbed her forehead, "just – eh – look, I'll go with you's". Frankie offered, looking back up at them. "You know…I could be brave enough".
"That's really nice of you, Frankie". Lipton told her, "but, you're better off here with the men".
"We'll see you after, kid". Martin said to her. "Huh?"
Frankie gave the smallest of nods, "yeah…see you's later".
It was an awful morning. Frankie paced around the village for hours, just waiting until the NCO's walked out of Battalion and not being held at gunpoint. She was a little worried, but her face remained the same, so no one suspected that she was worried.
"Private Hughes!"
She sharply turned around, "hey, sir".
Welsh looked amused, "what are you doing?"
"Eh…just wondering, sir".
He crossed his arms, "wondering, huh?"
Frankie nodded, "yeah…wondering".
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were nervous".
She shook her head, "nah – not me, sir. I'm way too mellow".
Welsh grinned, "yeah, clearly".
Frankie rubbed her hands together and sat down on the wall, by the church.
"Nice shiner". Welsh commented, sitting next to her. "Who punched you?"
"Some random, sir". She said, "lads sorted it out".
He hummed with a tiny smile, "yeah…good for them, huh?"
"Yeah".
Welsh lit up a cigarette, "London?"
Frankie snorted, "it's a mad place, sir".
"I don't doubt that, Hughes".
She looked up at him for a moment, "you're from Ireland, sir?"
"Yeah, originally". He replied, "moved over here a while back. Still got family over there".
"You 'gonna see them again, sir?"
"Yeah, hopefully". Welsh looked at her, "what about you, Hughes?"
"Ah – I don't know, sir". Frankie mumbled, "suppose I should take care of things at the farm". She then added quietly, "not that the horses are there anymore".
"Where'd they go?"
"Grandad sold them to the army, sir".
Welsh took in a tiny sharp breath, "tough break, kid".
Frankie scratched the top of her hair, "yeah, it is, sir".
And just like that, the NCO's walked back towards the stables. Frankie stood up, as did Welsh. They saluted the Lieutenant and gave Frankie a nod, letting her know that it was going to be fine now. Harris was out of the Airborne and Ranney got demoted to Private, but no one got shot, and that's all that mattered. And the next morning, Sobel left Easy Company and Lieutenant Meehan took over. He was originally from Baker Company, but Sink felt he was the better option for leading Easy. And he was right, but anyone would have been better than Sobel.
They were given a two-week furlough shortly after. Frankie had plans to go back home and sort everything out before she jumped into combat. And she planned to do this alone but when she was waiting for the bus to take her into London, Hoobler, Dukeman and Blithe turned up.
"Sarge told us". Hoobler said, "you ain't doing this alone, Tiny".
It was a long journey from London to Edinburgh, eight hours on the train. And once they got to Edinburgh, they had to get another train to cross the river Forth. Frankie lived on the outskirts of Dunfermline town, right in the middle of nowhere. Her friends were impressed by Scotland so far and they decided to spend a few days in Edinburgh once they left Fife. Frankie didn't plan on staying at the farm for more than a night, she just needed to make sure there wasn't a for sale sign in her front garden. Which of course, there was. Shaking her head, Frankie kicked the sign down, before she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the hallway.
"Nice digs, Tiny". Hoobler said, "bet this cost a lot, huh?"
"Hoobs!" Dukeman hissed, "you can't just ask people that".
"Why?"
"Cause…some people don't like to talk about money-"
"one hundred thousand". Frankie replied, "that's what they bought it for".
Hoobler gave Dukeman a smug smile, "see, Tiny don't mind, Bud".
Frankie bent down and picked up all the outstanding bills. "Yeah, well…upkeep is expensive".
"What are you 'gonna do, Frankie?" Blithe asked her quietly.
She shook her head, "fuck…we'll need to sell it".
Dukeman smiled, "you just kicked the sign down".
"I know". Frankie mumbled, leading them into the living room. "Just don't want to sell it the now".
The three of them wondered around the room, exploring ever nook and cranny. Frankie sat down on the couch and opened up the letters. Her dad had obviously let the bills carry on, maybe that's what gave him the heart attack; they were asking for a lot of money.
"Who's this?" Dukeman asked, looking at a picture. "She's pretty".
Frankie's eyes flicked towards him and then down to the bills again, "my mum".
Hoobler, Blithe and Dukeman all looked at each other, wondering if they should even ask about her mum, because Frankie had never mentioned her before.
"Is she-"
"no". She cut Hoobler off, "she's not dead".
"Oh, that's…good?" Dukeman asked her carefully.
Frankie frowned and looked up at him, "why are you acting like that?"
"Like what?"
"All weird and shit". She mumbled, "I'm not ashamed of her, mate".
"Right, it's just…you've never mentioned her". He reasoned softly. "We figured she wasn't around".
"She isn't". Frankie cleared her throat, "she's in a hospital".
"She's sick?" Blithe frowned sadly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Frankie".
"Yeah, she's sick". She got back up and ripped up the bills, "I can't be arsed. Let's go to the pub".
The farm was still standing. The stables hadn't been knocked down, they still had all their acres and the house was fine. Frankie was lucky to have been brought up in such a nice house. The memories she had as a child in this house were always good ones. Until a certain point, of course, and then everything changed. When her mum left, it was just Frankie and her dad. And her dad was always too busy or tired. So, he put Frankie to work and she helped out with the horses. Still, even working with the horses had good points. And as much as Frankie didn't want to lose this farm, she had too because it was too much money for a seventeen-year-old to run.
So, they got drunk instead.
Dunfermline at night was a blast. The clubs were buzzing, and the drinks were cheap. And her friends were the only Yanks in Dunfermline, so the local girls were all over them. Frankie sat by the bar, ordering shot after shot of whiskey and vodka. She knew the bartender from school, his name was Andrew, but everyone called him Jonesy. He was a few years older than Frankie and seeing as she had returned home for a night, Jonesy gave her and her friends free drinks for an hour in celebration.
"When you jumping in, Frankie?"
She shook her head, "not a clue, Jonesy. Could be any day".
He smirked, "hope it's not now, eh?"
Frankie snorted, "yeah…that would be something".
"Heard from your pals". He told her, "they came down from Edinburgh last weekend".
"How're they doing?"
"Fine, yeah". Jonesy told her, "miss you, I think".
Frankie shook her head, "their mistake".
Jonesy leaned against the counter, "can I write to you?"
"Why?"
He shrugged, "just cause".
Frankie cleared her throat, "aye, alright then".
He smiled, "great".
Once incident happened while they were in Edinburgh and it all started in the Black Bull, a pub which sold cheap food and drinks to the many students who came down to their local. The four of them were sitting in a booth, minding their own business. When four guys from the regular British Army wondered over to them and Frankie could tell they were itching for a fight.
"Look at this, Steve". One of them said, sounding from London.
"Four Yanky-Doodle-fucks".
Hoobler looked at them, "what the hell, man?"
One of them leaned against the table, "you lot love coming into our country, eh? And trying to make it your own".
From the sounds of it, they were all from London. Probably friends who signed up together. Frankie didn't like them because they came over and gave them lip, she didn't like them because they were stupid enough to pick a fight with a few Paratroopers.
"We're just minding our own business, fellas". Dukeman tried to smooth things over but it didn't work. These four idiots, like others they had encountered in London, just wanted to cause trouble because the Yanks earned better money, which made girls want to spend more time with them. They were jealous.
One of them grinned and picked up Blithe's beer, before pouring it onto the table.
"Oh, you fucking idiot". Dukeman was on his feet, Hoobler not far behind.
They rolled up their sleeves, "have at it!"
Hoobler and Dukeman took two guys, while the other two double tagged them. Blithe got up soon after and grabbed one of the guys off Hoobler, before punching him in the face. And Frankie watched this fight unfold, not knowing what to do. The British guys were obviously a lot bigger than her, she'd probably get the shit kicked out of her if she tried to fight them. So, she grabbed the empty glass and stood up on the table. Walking to the edge, she then smashed the glass onto one of the guy's head and he fell to the ground. The fighting stopped, and they all looked at her.
"You killed him!"
Frankie shook her head, "no, he's fine".
Hoobler grabbed her hand, "we've 'gotta get the fuck out of here – come on!"
They decided not to go back to Edinburgh after that.
Though, they did get a kick out of it on the train back to London.
"You bottled him!" Dukeman laughed, "I can't believe you fucking did that, Frankie!"
When he ruffled her hair, Frankie laughed.
"Yeah – yeah, I did".
...
By the end of May, Easy were given Lieutenant Compton, or Buck, as he went by. He was 2nd Platoons new assistant leader and the guy was already a legend. He played cards with them, drank at the pub with them and even gambled with some of them. Buck was a man's soldier and quickly formed good friendships with them. And then in June, they left Aldbourne and made their way to Upottery, an airbase two hours from the village. When they got there, Welsh got his Platoon into their squads and tents. Frankie knew that this was it, everyone did. They had been doing a lot of training jumps since March and most of them were at night. All they had to do now was wait and find out where they were going and what was expected from them once there.
And their briefing came the next day, inside a large garage. Meehan was standing before them, with maps, photos and sand tables close by. Frankie settled herself down with her squad, close enough to the front.
"Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Causeway number one. Causeway number two. The ultimate field problem". Meehan began, "the estuary of the Douve river divides two beachheads, code name Utah and Omaha. Seaborne infantry will hit these beaches in force on a date and time to be specified. H-hour. D-day. Airborne's objective, is to take the town of Carentan, thus linking Utah and Omaha into a single continuous beachhead. Each trooper will learn this operation by heart and know his and every other outfits mission into the detail".
Dukeman stood up, "Lieutenant Meehan?"
"Yes, Dukeman?"
"Sir, are we dropping tonight?"
"When it's time for you to drop, we'll let you know". He replied, Dukeman sat back down. "In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps and recon photos until you can draw a map of the area by memory. Now, we will drop behind this Atlantic wall five hours before 4th infantry lands at Utah. Between our assembly area and the Battalions objective, there is a German garrison. Right here in this area, Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Easy Company will destroy that Garrison".
Frankie's head hurt. They had spent over two hours going over every last detail and taking notes on the many surrounding towns. No one really knew what to expect, so they all prepared for situation which could prevent things from going into plan. Frankie was having a hard time believing that this was actually happening. They had spent almost two years training for this drop and now that it was here, it was hard to wrap her head around that this was the deal.
Normandy. She hadn't heard of Normandy before now. But then again, she hadn't heard of Toccoa, Benning or Mackall before either. Frankie was used to leaving home, but she wasn't used to leaving for combat. For supper that evening, they had steak and ice cream. Ah, they were being too generous. Which meant the drop was that night.
"We got promoted".
Frankie and Blithe both looked up at Hoobler and Dukeman.
"Congratulations". Frankie gave him a tiny smile, "Corporal now, eh?"
"Yeah". Hoobler sat down next to her, "guess it paid off".
"I'm sure it did, mate". She said, "you wanted a promotion".
"I did, yeah". He said, "more money to send back to mom".
While they ate supper, staff started to load the planes up with their gear. And when they walked out from supper, they were ordered to start getting ready. Every single item they had was carried in their webbings, musette back or a new added piece of equipment, their leg bag. It all came up at almost two hundred pounds, which weighed far more than Frankie. At most, she might have weight eighty-four pounds. If anything, Frankie had lost weight since the beginning of training but had added some muscle. At least she didn't look as skinny as she did upon arrival.
Everyone was ready to go, they just had their chutes to put on.
"Easy Company!" Meehan soon called, "listen up!"
Frankie stood at the front.
"Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog. No jump tonight! The invasion has been postponed. We're on a twenty-four-hour stand-down".
They were showing a film in one of the tents, Frankie stayed for five minutes and left to get some air. The sky didn't look as "socked" up as it did a few hours ago. They'd probably jump in tomorrow. Crossing her arms, she made her way over to the planes and looked up at them. She felt very small, tiny, even. Those things were massive compared to her.
"Don't fuck it up". She whispered to herself, "don't you dare fuck it up, Hughes".