The Howling Commando's Angel cont.

"You see, it started in 1942 when her man was drafted." Steve reached up and scratched the back of his head. "You have to understand, Angel would never talk about her work. Just said it was safer for her if we just took what she could give us and not ask questions about where it came from. She worked in what she called 'procurement.' Did that even back home all through the '30s and even into the '40s.

"I didn't first come into contact with Angel there until I met up with the 107th in Italy. She had been keeping pace with them for about six months at that time, supplementing their rations and providing his unit with whatever goods she could procure for them." Steve laughed a little disparagingly. "If she also happened to make a profitable side deal besides what she sent to the unit," here he shrugged and grinned, "no one really asked questions. It was because of her that the unit ate several weeks when the supplies were late or just plain didn't make it."

The woman sitting with Steve looked at him as if to wonder where he was going with this. "So, this Angel was a glorified Quartermaster?" Squinting her eyes she continued, "Probably with illegal methods and no sanctioning?" And the Captain wondered why she wasn't included?

Steve laughed right out loud raising his eyes to look at the ceiling. "That's probably pretty much what she would say, but without the 'probably' and something much less official than Quartermaster. She never went with any official route if she could help it." His laugh quieted down but the curator could still see the smile in his lips and eyes. "She started with just putting food at the back door of the kitchen tent. The way I heard the story months later, the supply clerks were run ragged wondering where the extra food was coming from. But it made the difference between eating and being full at least once a day. Then, as she learned the area more, other things started showing up – boxes of socks and undershirts, coffee, blankets, stuff like that."

The curator wondered where this was going. This Angel was helpful, but she didn't see where the affection was coming from that the Captain or the other members of the Commando's expressed. "Obviously someone found out who was doing it, you and the others have used a name. How did that happen?"

"Well, that's a funny story in itself. You see, when I heard that my friend Bucky's unit had been captured by Hydra and was considered missing, I went after them. You've seen the records, you know we came back with a lot of men – most of the 107th. We made it back to the camp I was visiting when some of the guys I had recruited for a new mission discovered the strangest thing one night."

*THCA *

It was Dugan who found it first. They had just walked into the tent that had been assigned to the guys that were staying with the Cap. There were nine of them, crammed into the little tent, but it wasn't really anything they weren't used to. There were cots, clothes, and blankets. It was much more than they'd had in the last bit, anyway. Sitting on the bed closest to the back was a crate with a piece of folded paper on top.

They looked at it askance at first. No other beds had a crate on it. The paper on top had "James Barnes" written on it. "Hey, Barnes!" Dugan called.

"Wha'?" He was just walking into the tent, having taken a cold shower.

"This here's got you're name on it!" Tim Dugan handed the younger man the paper as he peered at the crate. His eyes get wide as he recognizes what's inside. "It's beer, boys! I wonder where it came from."

The others crowded around the crate of Guinness, wondering about their fortune. It was just seconds later when they heard Barnes start muttering under his breath. "Go ahead and break into it. But you've got to keep quiet about it. I don't think we're supposed to have it. Keep one for me and one for the Captain, but you all can have the rest." He was shaking his head, fisting the paper that had been with the crate."Where'd it come from?" Gabe Jones asked as he pulled a bottle out. He'd never had Guinness before and only knew it as an import from Ireland. "This would have been expensive." He looked over at the Sarge who was pulling his clothes back on.

"Just drink it, guys. I've got to go." He stormed out of the tent hell-bent on finding Steve. They had more serious problems just then than being captured by Hydra.

He found his overly large friend coming out of the officers' meeting tent where he had obviously been in a serious discussion he didn't really want to be in. His forehead was crinkled and his eyes were tight. Grabbing his arm, Bucky pulled him further away from the officers' tent. "We've got to talk, Stevie. Have you got a bunk here somewhere?"

Steve could tell that Bucky was very upset about something. He had come back into camp in a good mood. Had seemed to be in good spirits being reassigned to Steve's squad. But this was something that had come out of the blue. "Yeah, Buck. It's just over there." Steve pointed to a much smaller tent than those around it that was just a few doors down the alley.

As they walked in, Bucky immediately started pacing the three steps allowed and then turning back. Steve set his shield and papers down on his bed and then turned back to Bucky. "What's the matter? Are they guys OK? Have you all got what you need?"

Bucky turned back to him and shoved the paper he had been holding into his hand. "When we got into the tent this afternoon, there was a crate on Gabe's cot and that note on it. Go ahead and read it. You'll get a laugh over it. Real riot-inducing, that!" Pacing again became his activity of choice.

Taking the paper, he saw Bucky's name on the front. The handwriting looked familiar to him, but he couldn't place it. Opening it, he read, "Don't do that again. Enjoy with your boys." It was the stylized "A" at the end of the note that caught Steve's notice. "That looks like..."

Bucky turns back to him, "It sure does, doesn't it!" He continued pacing. "It'd be just like her, too. Trotting over here and, and… And she had to have been close to get that here and placed in our tent. Who else would sign something like that! I swear it looks just like her mark. She was planning something before I left, I know she was." Bucky suddenly stopped pacing. "I wonder…" He stopped all of a sudden, staring out in the distance.

"What, Buck?" Steve sat on his bed, alternating between his friend and the note in his hands.

"Well, the strangest things have been happening around the 107th. Most only heard rumors, but I overheard some of the cooks a few months ago talking about it. It seems as if we've been getting shipments that are unaccounted for and just show up. Mostly food, but some goods. I've got more socks than most in the army – and most are not army goods either!" He looked around at Steve. "The kids in the kitchen say no one knows nothing about it but we were too hungry to look it in the mouth."

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "If it is somehow her, and I don't know how it would be, is there anything you can do about it?" He could see his friend was really upset. Steve was, himself, more worried than angry. He knew that if it was their friend that she could take care of herself, bit that didn't make it any easier knowing she was anywhere near Hydra or Nazis. "Would you want to be the one to tell her she can't do whatever it is that she has decided she's doing?" Steve looked pointedly at Bucky.

He just deflated. "Nah. I know better than that, but this… Stevie, she doesn't belong here!"

"She'd probably say we don't either." He handed the note back to his friend. "We'll keep a lookout, but I don't know what you want to do. Ang'll skin us alive if we try to interfere in her business. You know that. She told us off enough back home."

"I know. But I don't have to like it." He shoved Steve's shoulder. "Come on, we can at least enjoy the beer she sent. I told the guys to save us out a bottle. If we don't hurry, they'll have drunk it all and have started a fight over our bottles." Both laughed at the thought and headed out of the Captain's small tent.

*THCA*

"She did that several times, leaving packages on one of the beds in the guy's tent. It was usually a little bit of special food – fresh fruit or sweetbreads, something like that. It got around that the Howling Commando's as we came to be called had an Angel looking after us." Steve looked at the curator to see what she thought of his story.

She was looking at him with a strange look on her face. "Is that just what you all called her or was that her actual name?"

It was with a very straight look that Steve told the curator, "Oh, it actually was her name. It was a big laugh when they found out. Of course, that didn't happen for a few months. That took a very large thunderstorm and several crazed cows."