It was character that got us out of bed, commitment that moved us into action, and discipline that enabled us to follow through
Eugene woke to prodding pokes in the stomach, and finally a punch in the gut.
He rolled over and groaned, and halfheartedly punched at the body that had awakened him, which he had not yet bothered to identify.
"Get up Doc." The voice laughed as it dodged his punch. "Get up!"
Eugene rolled over once more, and looked the man in the face.
"Damn it Charlie Stevens." He cursed, "You're not telling me we've got something to do this morning?"
Charlie looked him in the eyes, obviously confused. "It ain't morning no more Eugene. It's five in the afternoon."
The medic shot out of bed, and quickly began pulling on his boots.
"Do you sleep all day in Louisiana?" Stevens taunted, as he straightened his helmet.
"Hell no." Whispered Eugene, "The good lord made it far too hot there to sleep."
With that the two men walked out of the barracks, to await their briefing
The briefing was all it was expected to be. Brief. Commander Hawkins told the troops that they would be evacuating a Dutch town, Nijmegen, before the Germans bombed it at 0100.
All citizens that had not already evacuated voluntarily had to be evicted, and transported to safety. Most of the men were excited, as this was a relatively easy mission.
Most people had already evacuated.
Eugene stared sadly up at the board where Captain Nixon pointed to arrows and figures on the map.
Operation Market Garden was becoming a failure, and everyone knew it.
The Germans weren't backing off, and too many casualties had been suffered while to little ground had been gained.
The men beside Eugene seemed excited, as they ignored Nixon's lecture, whispering quietly.
For them, all that was left to be done, was throw the unwilling on a truck, cart them away, and then head back to HQ for a relaxing evening of beer and poker.
But for Eugene, today was only the start.
Tomorrow, he would have other bombing casualties to tend to, from towns that didn't get evacuated in time.
They had two medics assisting the 30 men that were to evacuate Sunderland, and Eugene was one of them.
The Company loaded up on their iron horses, the indispensible army jeeps, and drove off, to save the defiant of Sunderland.
When they arrived Nijmegen, Easy Company's first platoon eagerly jumped of the jeeps, and into the gravelly streets.
"What are you gonna do if you find a girl?" One of the more jovial men in the company asked.
"What the hell do you think I'm gonna do." Private Collins muttered. "I'll flirt my head off, sweep her off her feet."
"You couldn't."
"I'd flirt, charm, and then we'd make love until the Nazi's kick us out with their goddamn bombs."
"The do look pretty good here. I like the blonde hair and the braids." One man piped up.
"Well, here's your chance to get one." Collins called out. "There won't be many left so finder keepers."
Eugene laughed a bit at that. "And if the lady you found ain't taken by you?" He asked in his Cajun accent, the southern charm already sweeping in.
"Then that's just too damn bad for her…"
T
he sergeant rolled his eyes. "Contain yourselves boys. Save all you can."
"Yes sir, Sir!" The resounding answer arose from the group of men.
Eugene and 5 others headed to the southwest part of town, where they would each search a building, under the cover of another's watchful eye.
"Doc, you take this building, and I'll take that one, it'll be quicker!" Private McAllister suggested forcefully.
Eugene shrugged, he knew his comrades wanted to get back to camp and have an enjoyable evening. "Sure sure." Eugene muttered, grabbing
the Luger that hung in his belt, as he prepared to enter a bombed building.
He kicked open the flimsy wooden door, and twisted his powerful Luger in each direction before entering.
"Hello?" He called into the murky darkness of the house.
He waited for a reply, but doubted he'd hear one out of the abandoned house. "Bonjour, est quelqu'un ici?" He called again, his Cajun roots easily
allowing him to slip into the French tongue.
Again, even in the different language, no one answered.
He turned to leave, muttering to himself. The mission was half ridiculous.
"C'est ridiculous." He cursed under his breath, as he took a step towards the door.
He stopped short in his tracks though, when his ears picked up the sound of a faint roaring that seemed to echo through the cement walls of the house.
"Plumbing?" He wondered aloud. "Running water?"
Confused, he pressed his ear to the wall of the house, and listened intently, much as he would have done for a heartbeat.
Sure enough, the distinct sound of creaking pipes penetrated the concrete.
Eugene ascended the stairs carefully, his hand on his Luger.
When he reached the top floor of the house, he could hear the distinct sound of a shower running.
He shook his head in pity and annoyance. Who would take a shower after the Americans had ordered evacuation?
Cautiously he crept towards the room where the sound of running water was coming from.
He could see the shower clearly, and the towel that was draped over the towel rack.
The steam would have clogged up the bathroom air, but an open window let the cold Holland draft in.
Quickly Eugene cocked his pistol, and suddenly, he threw back the shower curtain, yelling for the person to raise his arms over his head.
Large, annoyed blue eyes and dripping wet blond hair met Eugene's eyes as pulled away the curtain.
The woman's skin was pale and smooth, and off of her forehead trickled tiny droplets of water.
Her full breasts and piquant hips screamed "sex" to him, as he tried to tear his eyes away.
"Vous opposez-vous?" The woman asked angrily, stamping her foot. "Do you mind?"
Eugene couldn't believe what he was seeing.
The naked woman in the shower made no attempt to cover herself, and Eugene made no attempt to look away.
Their eyes met again, and suddenly she closed the shower curtain in his face.
"Fräulein??" Eugene questioned, sighing as he leaned against the bathroom counter.
An annoyed voice answered. "Je ne suis pas allemande. I'm not German."
He smiled, a small whisper of a laugh escaped him. "My apologies Mam. Je suis désolé.
He heard her snort. "I know, I know, I look like one. Ze blonde hair and the eyes."
"You French?" Eugene asked simply.
"Oui. I'm French."
"Why are you here mademoiselle?"
Her light voice penetrated through the heavy, hot, air of the steamy bathroom, which was making Eugene sweat.
"Why are you here soldier?" She questioned rhetorically.
He smiled again, and took off his helmet. "To help people."
He could see her shadowy outline against the white shower curtain, and he watched intently as she drug shampoo through her long hair.
She scoffed. "Killing is helping? What about those you kill?"
He shook his head, and watched her throw back her head under the water and run her fingers down her back. "I'm a medic." He corrected her simply. "I try to save lives."
He heard her sigh. "Vous aurez honte pour moi. Vous ne me respecterez pas du tout."
He chuckled. "I won't lose any respect for you, and I won't change my opinion of you. I don't even know you. Je promets qu'il n'ira pas faire. I promise."
"Look at this place! And you'll realize there is no respecting work that is done here!"
"A brothel?"
"Oui, Oui."
"Oh. So you're a-"
"No! I do paper work, filing for the management."
"So you don't want to work here?" Eugene asked, leading up to his proposal.
"Non, I want to be back in my fields, in the garden, working at the store."
"You farm?"
"Oui, who doesn't?"
He laughed, "You have a point."
He saw her outline shrug.
"Mademoiselle." Eugene began. "You must come with me. Your German clientele are planning on bombing this town at 0100. I'm an American soldier from the 101st airborne, and I've come to evacuate all remaining citizens. "
"Then I suppose you may leave me." She hissed bitterly. "I'm no citizen."
"You're a captive?"
"Oui."
He looked around him exasperatedly, "Then get out of the damn shower, and come back with me!"
She shook her head. "This is the first shower I have had in at least a month. And then you show up, this house, this place is finally all mine, and
you come to take me away."
"I've come to evacuate everyone, so that no one gets hurt when the bombin' commences."
"I'd rather just stay."
"Don't you want to go back home to your town? You just said you missed the fields!"
"I don't have a town, or fields anymore, they are gone, blown up by these incinerating bombs! Just my family."
He hung his head, for he knew he had just poured salt into a raw wound. "I'm so sorry." He muttered.
"So I'd stay, Sir. I'd rather take a shower, and just stay here. This is home now."
"With all due respect miss, you cannot stay."
"And who says that, your captain downstairs?" She shook her head, disgusted.
"No, I say that, because I won't let a beautiful young woman die in Nazi shower."
"You're a flatterer." She whispered gently as she opened the curtain to look at him.
"You're the one who's French." He retorted.
"Your Cajun, you're only half French, and you still try to flatter me."
He couldn't help but smile. She had wit and guts.
"Fair enough. But get of the shower and come with me to camp."
"Wouldn't you know it?" She whispered quietly, her fingers still running through her thick gold hair.
"The hot water didn't turn on until they were about to start bombing. And you didn't come until you knew about the bombing. You're a brave man Eugene. Please go find other people to save. I'm going to save this shower."
Eugene reached through the shower curtain and briskly, cut off the water, then grabbed a towel that had been lying on the counter.
He threw the towel around the woman. "Dry off, no one dies in a shower that doesn't have to."
"Arrêtez-vous hé!" She exclaimed angrily. "Stop!"
"No, you're coming to camp right now." With that Eugene wrapped her up in the towel and scooped her into his arms. She kicked and screamed,
for him to stop, "Arrêtez-le!" But he continued calmly down the stairs.
"Don't make this any harder than it is." He told her quietly, as she fought against him.
"Put me down! I'm not leaving!" She cried in despair, wailing as Eugene stepped out the door.
The men on the street all stopped and looked for the source of the wailing, and they saw Eugene Roe carrying a young blonde woman wrapped
up in nothing but a towel. They were astonished, and hopeful.
"Oh my god that lucky Bastard." Collins yelled, as Eugene walked by.
"She's damn naked!" Private McAllister exclaimed, his eyes never leaving the woman wrapped in the towel.
"Is she hurt?" One of the privates asked.
An older officer looked down at him. "After tonight she probably will be."