Edelweiss

This war does not and must not stop for one single instant.
Our fighting men know that. Those of them who are moving forward through jungles against lurking Japs — those who are landing at this moment, in barges moving through the dawn up to strange enemy coasts — those who are diving their bombers down on the targets at roof-top level at this moment — every one of these men knows that this war is a full-time job and that it will continue to be that until total victory is won.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt – September 8, 1943

Chapter 1

Fourth of June, 1944.

Two years since Emeline Frey had left her little town of Oxnard. Almost two years since she's even stepped foot on American soil. The year before came the first anniversary but even then, even in that moment, it was still difficult for her to fully grasp.

Her dark mahogany eyes lifted from the open letter that laid on her lap. Clammy hands had crinkled the frayed edges, time and Italian heat had tinged it to a dull beige. A few words had been smudged somehow during her travels. Mud, rain, sweat—she couldn't tell which. After reading it so many times throughout the last few months, she already knew the words by heart. She could practically hear his voice as she read them.

My little sister on a plane. Hell, I'd love to see that, Em. You gave us hell and then some when we tried getting you on that damn oak tree down the block. Remember that?

If only he could see her now, she mused with a little smile. There she was, sitting on a C-46 bound for England. A far cry from that old English oak tree with the ugly notches on the trunk that made it easy to climb, and the curvy branches they used to sit on and scrape countless knees against. She always sat on the ground when they scaled that bark, watching them with either dread or excitement swelled beneath her breast as they tried to reach for those sky-kissed branches. This time, though, she wasn't watching. She was up there, amid the skies, almost as if she were sitting beside them on the highest arm of that tree.

Ah, but I know you'll do fine. Flight nurse, field nurse, doesn't matter. You're still a great nurse, and you're gonna be a great nurse wherever you go. Don't be beating yourself up over something you can't control. Keep going, keep at it. It's the only thing we can do. Two years, Em. We've been at this for two years, it's gotta be close. After all that's happened there's no turning back now. Give 'em hell, 'cause you know we'll do the same.

Personnel of the 42d had pulled out of the Mediterranean, along with a number of other field and evac hospitals. The battle was gearing towards central Europe now, closer and closer to the heart of the war, right on Germany's doorstep. Perhaps Sebastian was right, she mused; maybe this war was coming to a close soon.

A surgical technician walked in front of her, obscuring her view of one of the small square windows across the way. Her thoughts diminished and she tucked her letters back into her small leather-bounded notebook, in between the thin pages where she had found them last. Conversations and voices drowned in the unending hum inside the C-46. Bits and pieces of it rose to her ears. The last time they were in England, the girls they met, the food and beer they drank, the things they missed back home. At one point, the EM to Emeline's left tapped her by the arm, raising his voice as he got her attention.

"Ain't that right, Emmy? Those girls are gremlins when it comes to those damn Hershey bars! A man can't even walk around camp with one in his pocket with those two around. I had one in my jacket and left it with the girls for a few minutes. I come back and it's half-eaten."

He had motioned to the sleeping nurses across of them. Both were leaning against one another and lost in their world of dreams, blissfully unaware of the pout the young man had on his face. How the conversation had gotten to her friends' crazed sugar tendencies, she hadn't a clue. But it made it all the more difficult for Emeline not to smile.

"You're still holding a grudge against them for that? That was almost a month ago."

"Hey, hey! I like chocolate too, y'know. I'm too nice for my own good for letting two girls get away with stealing it. They took some from the last supply drop too."

"I'll give you two more Hershey bars when we reach our outpost then," she said with a chuckle.

That seemed to have brightened his mood. "I'll hold it to ya, Emmy."

With a small shake of her head, the nurse was lost within random musings. A mental note was made on the brim of her mind and stored within its depths. Its importance wasn't dire, but it would've been nice to make it up to Timothy Camden. She just needed to find someone who had two extra Hershey bars. The thought made her smile again.

On the steel bench before her, her friends still slept. Rhonda McCormick sat on the left, a slender-figured woman with wavy wheat-colored hair. Cool cerulean eyes, observant and critical, were now closed, lost within dreams and sleep. Steven Piper and Frank Lieberman, two of their medics, often joked that she was their platoon's pin-up girl. Few would argue to say otherwise. Smooth fair skin, pink bow-shaped lips and high cheekbones gave Rhonda a look that many were in awe of and, to some extent, was the source of envy. Back in her hometown in New York, she was a pageant queen of sorts. Despite that, though, Rhonda hated every second of it. Claimed she didn't mind the stares as much, but expectations of feminine etiquette and romanticized home life wore her thin.

'They talk about it a lot back home, that's a given. But I couldn't give a damn about what they think anymore,' she once said. 'They think a dame shouldn't get her hands dirty. A girl should hold down the fort back home if men go off to war. The day after Papa told me that, I enrolled in the nursing program at the university. And the day of Pearl Harbor, I signed up for the Army Nurse Corps. They say not to get my hands dirty? Damn that to hell. I'll go elbow deep in it if I want.'

Everyone understood that well enough.

Leaning against Rhonda's arm was Winnie Balfour, a plump young woman shorter in stature. She had a sweet-natured face, almost childish at times; lightly tanned skin, soft round cheeks, and small pouty lips. Her dark auburn hair was always curled and pinned behind her head, and her deep emerald eyes were often pictured windows of her cheerful moods. Emeline grew attached to that side of her after a few days. That optimism.

At only twenty-two years old, Winnie Balfour was among the youngest in their platoon, as well as among the newest. Just shy of four months since her assignment to the 42d Field Hospital made her as green as any other recruit out of training. But the beachhead of Anzio and the hot hills of the Allies' advancing frontlines stood to be her proving ground. Random bouts of heavy artillery and mortar fire, endless queues of scarred and battle-torn men—Winnie had embraced it all with diligence. Relying on the new nurse after that only came naturally.

Outside the small square window in front of her, formations of cottages and expansive green farmlands took shape. Even in the distance, the outlines of tall country houses and villages could be distinguished. Emeline shifted in her place on the steel bench, sitting up properly with her notebook and satchel on her lap and her wool garrison cap in her hands.

Before long, Rhonda roused from her groggy state. Her cool blue eyes were bleary, unfocused. The hum of the engines rattled in her eardrums and she sat upright in her seat. "What time is it?"

The tiny smile hadn't left Emeline's lips. "Time for you two to get up, apparently."

Loss of her make-shift pillow made Winnie jolt upright. She blinked her emerald green eyes repeatedly and glanced around the plane in bewilderment.

"Morning sunshine," Emeline greeted happily.

"What happened?"

"We're gonna be landing soon. Probably best if you girls got up now. Camden'll have fun seeing you two tumble out of your seats if you go back to snoozing."

Winnie's dazed words were lost within the unending drone of engines. For a moment, guilt had sprouted in the back of Emeline's mind as she watched her friends gather their bearings. Less than two days ago the 42d Field Hospital received news of their transfer to the European Theater. Since then, they had been on the constant move. By convoy, by boat, now by plane. Sleep in any form was hard to come by.

Within minutes, the C-46 approached one of the long tarmacs of Upottery Airfield. The landing went as smoothly they had hoped, safely and without an injury in tow. By Emeline's account, that was all that mattered. The lone doors of the plane ramped onto the runway and the cargo plane's engines were suddenly silenced. By 1030 that morning, they were officially landed.

"Welcome to England, Winnie," Emeline said with a small smile. A twinkle of excitement shone readily in those emerald orbs.

Emeline stood up from her seat, readjusting the sleeves of her button-up and tugging at the beige tie around her neck. She frowned slightly at the oddness. After months it almost seemed strange to be in the fitted skirts and jackets of their service uniforms. Ever since their campaign had started, the women spent their days wearing men's coveralls and trousers, shirts that hung loosely over their limbs and stray cloths or clips that held back slicked and tangled hair.

Now their uniforms were freshly pressed and newly-issued, drab green and beige as any GI on that side of the Atlantic. Their faces were fresh and vibrant, some with a light touch of makeup, and their hair had long been washed and shiny, donning modest waves and curls or simple hair buns. Had anyone seen them no one would've guessed that these women, pretty and primed, had just come from their own share of this war.

Sunlight peeked over the jagged silhouettes of tumid grey clouds. Wet asphalt and dewy swards of distant knolls wafted through their senses. Damp English air, thick and fresh from recent drizzles, clung to the pores of their faces. Erected tents and buildings of the airbase, large white hangers filled with C-46s and C-47s, trucks and jeeps parked along the strip of the runway. It was all a familiar sight.

Emeline and Rhonda were impassive to the number of uniforms that walked to and fro, but Winnie looked around in distinct surprise. "Is this everyone in the 42d?"

"Just about. First and Third Platoon seem to have gotten here before us."

"It's… smaller than I expected."

The older nurses shared a look of amusement between them. Moments like these often remind them that Winnie was only a few months into her trek of this war.

"We're lucky enough to have at least five nurses in each of our platoons. Field hospitals are always smaller than evacs." Rhonda glanced her friend's way and smiled faintly. "You've forgotten the chain of evacuations already, Win? And here I thought you were as sharp as a knife for a nurse."

"I-I'm just surprised is all," explained Winnie. "Seeing everyone together now… I guess I wasn't really expecting it. I knew we were small, but… Well, I mean—won't we be overworked real easy if it's always this small of a platoon?"

Rhonda chuckled. "You almost sound like you expect a whole battalion of nurses to support a single infantryman, Winnie."

One nurse rolled her eyes playfully while the other huffed in embarrassment. "Now you're just being silly."

"Jesus Christ. I was starting to think you girls got left behind!" a voice called out behind them.

All three turned around. Standing beside a ¼-ton jeep was a relatively petite woman, slim-figured with an oval face and rosy full lips. Her short chestnut curls were pinned out of her face, and her dark brown eyes gleamed with a mirthful spark. One look at the grin upon those lean features and two of the nurses let out a laugh, a weak chortle strangled between relief and happiness.

Rhonda engulfed her in a hug instantly. "Good God, you crazy little munchkin. You have no idea how glad we are to see you, Jane."

"Aw, tell me something I don't know, doll," Jane chuckled. Her attention turned to Emeline and she smiled warmly, pulling the dark-haired nurse into a tight hug. "How goes it, Angel? Last time we saw you girls was on the back of a supply truck going God knows where."

"It's as well as it can be." Unwilling, and perhaps unable, to evoke memories from months past, Emeline turned and motioned to their plane with a slight grin. "Looks like Second Platoon came a little late to this party though, huh?"

Jane made a tsk sound. "Late as always. Third got here fifteen minutes before you did. We got here well over half an hour ago."

"Missed us that badly, eh Jan?"

"Are you kidding? I haven't even seen half these guys in almost a year! After that damn fiasco at Anzio we lost touch with almost everyone in 42d besides HQ. Too much has happened since we got deployed." Despite her lackluster tone, she managed to scrounge up a hearty smile as she sighted the petite nurse beside Emeline. "And I guess new faces in our platoons are some them. Lieutenant…?"

Winnie smiled. "Winnie Balfour, ma'am. Just joined Second Platoon a couple months back."

"Jane Vinson. Good to have you with us, Winnie. If Emeline and Rhonda here took you under their wing then you're in pretty damn good hands." She turned and motioned another woman behind her, standing idly beside the army-issued jeep. "Caswell? Girls, this is Leanne Caswell. Barely joined First Platoon a month or so back. Leanne, this is Rhonda McCormick and Emeline Frey. And, 'course, Winnie Balfour."

Leanne quickly stood beside the older nurse at the mention of her name. A meek smiled graced across her lips and her gaze soon fell downcast. She was a young nurse, almost looking as if she were still a teenager with such an attractive and youthful face. Small plump cheeks matched her thin rosy lips, and a fair complexion gave her a pretty look. Sleek black hair was curled and pinned, and crystal blue eyes peered up at them every now and then as they spoke. Timid in nature, from what Emeline could make out, and awfully shy. Some part of her wondered if Leanne had really seen the field hospitals with her own eyes. Nevertheless, the corners of Emeline's lips curled in its usual kindhearted smile.

"How old are you, Leanne?"

"Twenty-one, ma'am," her voice was amazingly soft and feminine. "But… my birthday is coming up this month. So I'll be twenty-two by the 26th."

"You would've had me fooled. You look like you could still be in high school." Rhonda feigned a quiet cough. "No offense, Leanne."

"Oh—no, don't worry, ma'am. I get that quite a lot, really."

"Which camp did you train in, Leanne?" Winnie's voice held the twinge of eager curiosity it always had when she asked questions. "I was stationed at North Carolina myself. Camp Butner. Not even half a day's drive from where I live. It almost felt like some kinda field trip the whole time I was there, to be honest."

"C—Camp Carson. At Colorado. Before that, I lived in Maryland. Or rather… Washington D.C. My father… He's a congressman in D.C. so…"

"Christ… You don't say! I bet he didn't take too kindly to see you off to war then." Deep blue eyes flicked towards Jane's direction. "Did you even know you had a congressman's daughter in your platoon this whole time, Lieutenant?"

Jane cleared her throat, her fingers brushing off invisible specks of dirt on her shoulder. "It's 1st Lieutenant, actually. And yes, I know well enough who Leanne is. I've been taking care of Caswell here when I can, y'know. God knows what would happen to a congressman if his daughter got lost in a war."

Winnie straightened in her place and saluted. "1st Lieutenant."

The formalities didn't surprise Emeline or Rhonda as much as the rank uttered did. Both honed their gaze on the shoulder loops of Jane's jacket. Eventually they too straightened in the place and saluted as well. Grins were tempting to display but they refrained as best they could.

"Congratulations, ma'am."

"We had the fullest confidence in you, ma'am."

Jane's lips quirked a tad more than its usual grin as she saluted. "Thank you kindly. Now I'm gonna say this to all of you once. Call me ma'am again and I'll clout ya on the head. I'm only a few years older than most of you. Twenty-six, for Christ's sake…"

Rhonda and Emeline chuckled. Winnie blinked in surprise. The older nurse wasn't nearly as formal as 1st Lieutenant O'Conner in their platoon. Grace O'Conner often wore her insignias like they were a badge of honor from Roosevelt himself. Besides the earlier quip, Jane Vinson looked as if she couldn't give less of a damn.

"Where's Charlene?" A wide grin lingered on Jane's cheeks. "I made a bet with her, y'know. See who got to 1st Lieutenant between us. A long ways back that was but hell, I bet she's gonna be pissed off to see I got it first."

Slowly, the hearty chuckle that filled the air grew lonesome. Rhonda tugged at the strap of her satchel and turned her head in efforts to hide her frown. Emeline felt her heart sink at the sudden recollection, yet her expression stilled with considerate silence.

"Charlie got… reassigned to the 317th as a flight nurse, before we left for Italy." The words were still difficult to say. "Six months before we got word of our transfer for ETO, we got news that the C-46 she was in was almost gunned down. They were in evac somewhere over New Guinea. The flak… got her. And two others. The plane made it to the airbase, but the three of them…"

Grins and smiles were soon melded into pensive frowns. Subconsciously, Jane took off her garrison cap. Her fingers ran over the golden pin of the Nurse Corps, fiddling and idle. "Anyone else?"

"A couple EMs got injured while out on the jeeps and the field. But we haven't lost anyone else in our platoon."

"Almost lost one, if that counts. Edith kinda went crazy when we were stationed outside some town." Despite the circumstance, a trace of amusement could be heard in Rhonda's tone. "Damn snipers were shooting into the windows of the hospital we held up in. Aimes and Cortez practically pinned her to the wall to keep her from going out there to give them a piece of her mind."

Jane chuckled dryly. "Yeah, that sounds like the Edith we all know."

"Anyone from First Platoon? Wounded, KIA…"

"None killed, thank God. A good number wounded though. Trujillo almost lost a foot when they mortared the village we were holed up in. But he's out and about now. Can hardly tell he's got a scar under those boots of his."

When silence filled the gaps of contemplations, Winnie glanced between the nurses before her. "Ma—Lieutenant," she recovered instantly. She wasn't quite sure which formalities would do. "Do… Do you know where we're gonna be stationed during this leg of the trip? Major Atkins and Captain Fairfax were real sticklers with the details. We don't really know much…"

Eventually, the nurse's good-natured grin took hold of her cheeks. "Hun, call me Jane. Jan, Jane, Vinson—anything but ma'am or Lieutenant. As for where we're going, your guess is as good as mine. The coast, from what I hear. We get reoutfitted here and then God knows where exactly afterwards. It almost seems like even Rousseau himself doesn't know completely where."

"Does anyone know?" Rhonda muttered under her breath.

Jane snorted quietly and gestured to the hanger behind them. "At this rate I know more about those boys' plans than our own. How fuckin' ridiculous is that?"

Emeline turned her head and glanced at the open hanger across the way. A number of soldiers sat on rows of benches, clad in their drab green uniforms and garrison caps. Before them stood boards and posters of some sort. A map showed on the back of one of the boards that faced the nurses, but what it showed exactly she hadn't the faintest idea.

"Where are they going?"

"Normandy. Or so I've been told. Once we clear out of the strip, they've got control of the airway. Come sundown they're boarding C-47s and heading for mainland."

Winnie's dark green eyes widened at the prospect. "Does that mean we're heading for Normandy as well?"

"Attached to those boys at first go?" Rhonda shook her head and chuckled. "Not likely. Then again, the last time I doubted what the generals on the higher-ups were thinking, they placed us on the front lines supporting 39th Infantry. Can't say for sure what the hell is gonna happen now."

"They're Airborne," Jane pulled out a cigarette from her front pocket and patted the other for a lighter. "We aren't anything close to flight nurses or an airborne medical company, hun. We don't do planes. And we sure as hell don't jump from them."

"It'd be interesting if we could," Winnie mused as she stared at the hanger.

"But scary," Leanne murmured as she followed her gaze.

"Alright, alright—don't go jinxing us now. I'd prefer to stay on the safe side of the channel, thank you very much." Rhonda's past experiences with doubting their platoon's destinations were coincidental at most, but still less than ideal. Emeline knew this herself all too well.

"Let's just see if that wish of yours comes true then, Rhon."

"42d! On me!" a deep voice cried out over the chatter.

Standing beside the first truck of their convoy was the commanding officer of the 42d Field Hospital, Lieutenant Colonel John Rousseau. He was among the older men in their unit at thirty-six years old, relatively scrawny in build with a sharp jawline and hook nose. Thinning black hair rested atop his head under his cap, and dark grey eyes watched as nurses and officers and EMs gathered around. Sharp and assertive, many took well to his lead during their campaign in North Africa and the MTO.

"Welcome back to England, ladies and gents," came his raspy voice. "We waited for all the platoons to come to ground before discussing our next assignment, so listen up."

"Thank freakin' God," Jane muttered as she put out her half-finished cigarette.

"There's been some final changes to our assignments over the last few hours. It was decided that each of our platoons would attach to units in the 9th Infantry as they head for Normandy. But higher-ups left that for the 45th Field Hospital instead. We're staying in England, folks."

Quiet whispers and brief words were exchanged between the crowds. Emeline turned to her friends and saw their reactions. Utter surprise and confusion for some. Complete relief and silence for others. She could only muster up a small smile as her own response.

"For the time being, we're attached to the 12th Evac Hospital in Blandford Camp. We're gonna set up and aid the hospital established for the upcoming invasion in Normandy. But we are not gonna split up into platoons during this leg of the trip, folks. 42d stands united this time around."

"And Normandy, sir? We gonna head there?"

Rousseau greeted the nurse with a small sort of smile. "Lieutenant Vinson. You bring up a good question, but I can't give you an answer just yet. Normandy is still undecided for us."

Everyone quietly muttered their thoughts on the situation. Rousseau shook his head and rose his voice. "But the matter isn't if we're going to France or Holland, folks. It's a matter of when. I don't have that answer yet, but I'll tell you this. We've got a hell of a road ahead of us, ladies and gents. I'm not gonna sugarcoat this damn war. We go where we gotta go and we do what we gotta do. We help those soldiers on the lines so they can live to fight another day. That is the 42d's role in this war. And I can tell you for damn sure it isn't gonna be done sitting on this side of the channel."

Contemplative silence was their only response.

"Now, the boys of the 506th are gonna need this tarmac soon. We might not be leaving for Normandy, but they are. We leave for Blandford at 1100 exactly. Everyone, get packed up and get ready for the drive. We're heading east."

Scuffled footsteps and quiet chatter wove into in the air. A quiet sigh was lost amongst its layers. Wherever Blandford was, it sounded like it was a long ways from where they were.

"Those are the guys from the 506th, right?"

Emeline followed Leanne's gaze and watched as a number of men filed out of the hanger across the way from them. They stood at the head of their convoy, on the brim of the roadway that led off to the rows of barracks and tents and plywood buildings. Small wonder where the men would be headed to now.

"I suppose they are."

"They've never stepped foot into a war before," Rhonda acknowledged.

A subtle crease appeared between Leanne's brows. "How can you tell?"

"Don't know. How they walk, how they talk. When they're green as grass, it all seems the same."

Jane relit her cigarette. "After a while, you girls'll notice it yourselves. It's all in the mannerisms. A man can look like he's tough shit but it doesn't always mean he's been to war for himself. Those boys, they're new. Seeing it now for ourselves, it's obvious. This jump of theirs is their first one. No denying that."

"First jump of many, probably," Emeline murmured.

She had seen men of almost all walks of life fighting this war. And all who survived presented an air that was near impossible to properly explain. Mannerisms weren't complete validations. It was much more than that in her eyes. People who realized how close they were to life and death, those who were in complete control of those options, even for minutes or milliseconds—it was only a part of every person who survived each battle. She couldn't see that in these men. Not yet.

They were only yards away, and the voice that rose from the crowds of soldiers was as clear as any. "Holy shit! Fellas, look at that! Women in uniform."

"They part of the 101st? When the hell did that happen?"

"Well, that's another way of pointing out the new from the old," Jane mused aloud.

"Hard to believe that some men can act like they've never seen women in war before," Rhonda muttered.

There was a distinct smacking sound, presumably a hand to the back of the head. "No, ya schmuck. They ain't Airborne. They're in the friggin' Nurse Corps."

"Fuckin' hell. I think we're in the wrong division, boys." This earned a round of hearty chuckles. A few even clamored in agreement.

"What, and have you go into some kinda medical unit? I get shot and I have a guy like Luz or Perconte tryin' to save my ass? Gimme a fuckin' break."

"Hey, hey! You underestimate my abilities, Gono. But it just so happens that you're already blessed with a medic. Your ass gets shot and you got Doc here at your side in a second. 'Course if you actually get shot in the ass, you got me and Perconte at your side laughing our asses off."

"Ah, fuck off Luz."

Chuckles mingled in the air as the nurses turned away to stifle their own. Some of the soldiers seem to have taken notice of their simple gestures and their exchange of quiet words. A hand shot up from the group of men, waving in their direction. He seemed to be a bit shorter than most, with wind-tossed brown hair and a toothy kind of grin that bordered between mischief and enthusiasm.

"Afternoon, ladies," he called out.

Rhonda nodded her head. "Afternoon, boys."

"Off to fight a war this fine day?"

A quiet chuckle left Jane's lips. "And have us do your jobs for you? Don't be such lazy bastards."

They continued on their merry way, grinning and chuckling as they had. Some glanced at the nurses and whistled. Others shuffled along peacefully. It was a mild reaction compared to what it once was months back, but they were all fine with it this way.

"Alright, alright. No more joking around, let's get packed up. The trucks look like they're near—"

Before Jane could finish that thought, she felt a sudden shove against her shoulder. Her weight toppled her towards the right, knocking her into Emeline. Despite the sudden shock, the nurse caught both their weights, causing her notebook to slip from her grasp as she held onto her friend's arm.

"Fucking—Hey, Dozer! The hell?"

"Nature calls!" A very tall, burly-figured man replied over his shoulder. "We're leaving in five minutes with no stops along the way. I gotta go."

He wore the similar olive-drab service uniform as the other men, more fitted to his larger build. Emeline was surprised to see such a robust man in their unit, and more surprised to see his name was truly Dozer. Far be it from her to deny a man like Alex Dozer from answering nature's calls.

"Christ, he could give more warning when comes bowling through like that…" Jane muttered. "You alright there, Emeline?"

"I should be asking you that," she chuckled as she picked up her fallen garrison cap. Her leather-bounded notebook laid in an open heap at the foot of her oxfords. The thin pages flicked lithely in the wind, her brothers' letters floating down the roadway. With a huff, she closed her notebook and went after the loose leafs of paper.

"When the hell did we get a man like Dozer in our unit?"

"Six months back," Jane replied. Emeline didn't need to turn around to see that grin toying across her friend's face. "A new EM for First Platoon."

Emeline chuckled dryly to herself and picked up the first letter. Dark splatters of muddy water had grazed the page. But it was still legible and intact, the more important thing in her mind.

The next letter came a foot away, in the same condition as the first. Another came a few inches from there. But the last few made her breathe a silent curse. They laid on the cold ground, directly in the path of the passing soldiers. One man stepped on one of the letters, leaving a perfectly large print of half his boot. Emeline bit her lower lip and sighed quietly in dismay.

"Excuse me."

She wedged in between the crowd of men, much to their confusion. As she lowered down to her haunches to pick up them up, a pale hand had already beaten her to it. She blinked in surprise. Standing before her was another man, tall and pale with a lean face and build. His short dark hair was neatly combed and dark pools peered down at her with natural earnest. A small rush of heat smothered her cheeks and she glanced down at the papers in his hands. It took a moment for it to actually sink into her mind.

"Sorry 'bout your papers, miss. They're a bit dirty." The lilt in his voice was strange. It was American, southern if she was to guess, but she had never quite heard it before.

"Ah… no, it's fine." She took them with a nod and smiled in thanks. Her feet moved towards her friends but she found that lilt stopping her.

"'scuse me, miss?"

He motioned to his hand. Dark mahogany eyes caught sight of the square photograph in his grasp, and deep within her chest she felt a resounding thump.

The recollection flooded the forefront of her mind, suddenly crisp and vivid like a subconscious movie reel. A week before Roderick left for the Air Force. Two weeks before Sebastian left for the Navy. Three days before Theodore left for the Marines. Sunday, on the 22nd of February 1942—Emeline remembered her twenty-first birthday very well.

Her throat went parch. "Th… Thank you."

She remembered that day on the beach. It was in the later afternoon, after Roderick and Theodore finished their shifts at Roman's construction site, after Sebastian finished his work on the old pick-up at Leopold's Garage. Sunlight was still warm and bright on the coastal stretches and the winds were cool and supple. Even in the cold English air, she could almost feel the sun-kissed breaths brush against her cheeks, could almost taste those briny drafts at the tip of her tongue.

Roderick, dressed in grey coveralls and a white shirt dampened with sweat, stood grinning toothily to her left. To her right, clad in an oil-stained shirt and dark overalls, Sebastian smiled faintly at the camera. Between them, beaming handsomely with his arms slung around his brothers' shoulders, Theodore stood with a candid manner. In front between them all stood the much shorter Emeline, attired in her white floral summer dress and her usual kindhearted smile.

A black-and-white picture, small and simple as it was, captured a long forgotten memory. One she had stored away within her notebook, far from the reaches of her mind. It suddenly felt like ages ago. But after so long, she realized it was ages ago.

"I would've really missed this…" She swallowed hard and found the will to muster up a smile. "Thank you for picking it up. And… for my letters as well, thank you."

"Not a problem, miss."

She glimpsed over him one last time. His green drab uniform just like any other man's walking past them. But the circlet of cloth on his left arm caught her attention at once. "You're a medic?"

There was a subtle twitch of his lips. "With the 506th. Easy Company."

"101st Airborne," she added with a slow nod. "We've heard about your division. Rumor has it you and your boys are some of the best in the Army."

"Well, they trained us to be. I suppose we've gotta prove that rumor true somehow."

Hearing that only made her smile. "If that's how it is then I think you boys will be alright out there."

"42d Field Hospital! Move out!" a voice boomed. Emeline turned her head and saw Lt. Colonel Rousseau climb into the first truck of the convoy. "Let's go, ladies and gents! 42d's on the move!"

She looked down at her wristwatch. 1100 exactly. The medic glimpsed at the trucks and jeeps with a flicker of interest. "Maybe we'll run into each other out there, huh?"

"Maybe." But she couldn't bring herself to truly agree with what those words meant. She just gathered up another small smile and nodded. "Take care of yourself, trooper."

"You too, miss."

Emeline turned and headed back towards her friends. One hand held her brothers' letters. The other held the old photograph with gingerly care. She glanced over her shoulder once more but no longer saw the raven-haired medic. He was now mixed with the flow of other men clad in green field uniforms and dark garrison caps, just as any another nameless face in the crowd.

"C'mon, Angel." Emeline could still hear that grin in Jane's smooth voice. "You heard Rousseau. We gotta get going."

Rhonda handed the satchel back to the approaching nurse, fighting hard to keep that smile from conquering her features. The battle was a lost cause.

"Don't even start," Emeline said as she stuffed her letters back into her bag. Slim, nimble fingers opened the pages of her notebook, and she gently placed the photograph between two fresh sheets before folding it close once more.

"He was cute," was all Rhonda said.

Emeline ignored the warm swell in her cheeks and pushing the incident behind her. She tucked her notebook in her satchel and gathered her rucksack in hand.

"C'mon. Might as well claim a seat on the convoys," her voice became more lighthearted, as did her smile. "Last time they stuck us in the truck that hauled most of the supplies. Those crates and folded cots are uncomfortable to sit on after a while."

"Ah, point made, Angel. It's one of the main reasons why we have this," Jane patted the hood of the open-hatched jeep behind her and beamed. "We aren't gonna be cooped up in the convoys this time around, girls."

Rhonda rounded both her and the jeep with a suspicious eye. "Jan, how the hell did you manage to filch a jeep?"

"Aw, don't be giving me the stink eye, Rhon. I just might reconsider towing you along if you keep up that little guilt-trip." Jane feigned a pout, "and I'll have you know, I only got this jeep 'cause Bellasario in supplies owes me a favor."

"What favor?"

"We saved his life," Leanne replied with a little smile.

Emeline rose her brows. "Fair enough trade."

"Eh, we thought so too."

Leanne, Winnie and Rhonda claimed the back seat, while Emeline took the passenger side. Jane had offered to drive, seeing as she's one of the only ones among them who knew how to.

"Just like my daddy's Ford back home in Montana," she commented with a grin.

Surprisingly enough, that was all the reassurances they needed.

They pulled up into the convoy, flanking behind one of the last trucks in the unit. Emeline peered over her shoulder and watched as the last of the 506th disappeared into the sea of pitched green tents. Respect settled beside unease in the very pit of her stomach, a sort of torn feeling that blurred the borders between one and another. But it was just like any other division she meets before they went to this battle or that, taking over this town or that one, gaining foot in this side of the country or another.

Only a flicker of thought, a speckle of insight, before that sense of indecision slipped into the crevices of her mind, buried and long forgotten. A part of her would've liked to see those men again. Another part of her truly, whole-heartedly, hoped she didn't. No one could say for sure and no one spared the chance to wonder. They simply kept moving, kept driving. Their campaign in Europe now started, and they were heading east.

*The 42d Field Hospital was an actual medical unit during WWII. It had 3 Platoons and an HQ Company, each platoon had about 60 enlisted men [EMs], 6 nurses, and half a dozen surgeons, usually all medical officers. Members of the 42d mentioned in this story are all fictional, and the majority of the locations that they are stationed to in this story are not the locations they were actually stationed to during the war.

*Roughly speaking, the chain of evacuations followed this order: Aid Stations - Collecting & Clearing Stations - Evacuation Hospitals - Station Hospitals - Hospitals in the Zone of Interior (which are usually rehabilitation hospitals back in the States).

*Field hospitals supported infantry divisions on the frontlines. In the chain of evac, they were usually attached to a clearing station, if not at the same level as a clearing station. Their sole purpose was to provide major surgery as close to the lines as possible, and to move with the lines as soon as possible as well. So they're much smaller than most hospitals in the chain of evac.

A/N: Thank you very much to those who reviewed and showed their interest in this story. It's really nice to see that someone enjoys it, so thank you! I realize that I didn't mention this before, so I do apologize for the late note, but I will say now that this story is more focused on Emeline and the 42d Field Hospital rather than the boys of Easy Company, though they will be more prominent figures in the later half of the story. If this deters readers already, then I understand. But, hopefully, to those who do not mind, you guys will still enjoy reading on anyway. :)

Edited: February 14, 2013