June 5th 1944, Upottery, England
A muggy sort of cold had managed to seep into Joe's sleeping bag. He could feel it when he turned over on his cot to face his friends. Other men had come into the tent during the night, Popeye, Malarky, the like. The bunks hadn't been assigned, so when the men had arrived in Upottery they just wandered towards a tent and settled down. The barrack was quiet with the exception of a few snorers, but that didn't bother Joe much. He had other matters on his mind, like Dieppe. He didn't know the exact numbers, but he knew that nearly everyone had been lost. Taking that into account he wasn't sure if Stella was lucky or not to have survived; it might have just been easier for her to die on that beach. He wondered if that battle was where her cataract had come from. The way her eye was slightly red around the milky white suggested to Joe that it had been a harsh and sudden blow rather than something that had developed over time. Yet, she seemed almost too cheerful to have that be true about her; she seemed too used to the injury. Thinking about Stella and Dieppe made him wonder if he and the men around him weren't about to share much the same fate.
He also had to wonder where Stella had been during her stay there, he had seen her pop up here and there over the time that they had been waiting for the jump, and with the weather clearing it certainly felt as though tonight could be jump night. Since she was Easy's intelligence officer, he figured, she would be present on that day at least and should curiosity get the better of him, he could ask her where she'd been. He hoped she wasn't one to simply fall away unnoticed like that in combat, though this was something he would soon find out whether he wanted to or not. People changed in training, how much would they all change in combat?
Throwing the blanket off himself, he dressed quickly and made his way outside. He didn't think sleep would be returning to him any time soon, and as it was five in the morning he knew that everyone would be up soon anyway. The tension in the air was high, he could feel it flowing like an electrical current, and he wondered how many of the men were in their bunks, laying awake thinking about what lay ahead. They could feel it, he could feel it, today was the day. Everything was eerily quiet, far too much so for his liking; he couldn't even hear the wind that he could sense blowing on the back of his hand.
"You're up early," The sudden voice made him jump, and it took Joe a few seconds before he stood tall, straightened himself out and made as though nothing happened while he looked for the source of the voice.
"Over here," It called knowingly. The red morning sun was reflecting brilliantly off the hood of the jeep where Stella sat, which had previously blinded Joe to her presence. She had her legs sprawled out in front of her while she rested her weight behind her on her palms. She had apparently been admiring the sunrise and seemed entirely pleased with her vantage point. Just then however, she had focused her attention on Joe.
"Ma'am," He said briskly, saluting her as was proper. She saluted him in return and patted the truck, calling him over.
"Nightmares?" She asked, though Joe shook his head.
"Just restless, ma'am." He said, still standing next to the vehicle. He didn't want to be any closer to her for fear of what might happen should anyone think it inappropriate. She smirked.
"T'e ben fin toe eh?"* She spoke more to herself than to Joe, who raised his eyebrow. He still wasn't used to her French; it didn't even sound like the proper French he had learnt from his first year high school course.
"Ma'am?"
"I don't bite, Toye." She chuckled. Again she patted the hood of the truck, and Joe relented, taking a seat beside her.
"Yourself, Ma'am? Why are you up so early?"
She raised a book that had been hidden from his view on the opposite side of her.
"The feeling of jump day woke me up, so I decided to take in the sunrise and read." She grinned sheepishly as though this was some sort of odd behaviour that wouldn't be condoned by the military. Joe was taken off guard when he saw through her glasses to the milk white eye beneath; he had managed to forget about it somehow. Obviously she noticed because she closed her eyes and faced the sunrise again, pretending to take in its increasing warmth. After a few seconds curiosity got the better of him.
"Does it make it hard ... to read?" He said pointing to his eye hoping she would get the message; and having forgotten that he had meant to ask her where she had been.
"No, my good eye gets tired more quickly, but it's like that for most things."
Joe was surprised at the good natured tone in her voice. She either didn't think much of the handicap, or was used to being constantly asked questions about it. She checked her watch and scooted off the front of the jeep's hood.
"Breakfast?" She asked, tilting her head in the direction of the mess hall. Joe stood and walked beside her towards the tent, feeling his confidence in the woman grow slightly. She seemed friendly enough, then again he hadn't seen her angry. And yet again, he had checked out her ass without being reprimanded too harshly for it, though he wasn't exactly sure if she had told the CO yet. Still, her temperament seemed even enough. "It's a good thing you're here, Toye." She stated, tearing him away from his thoughts.
"Ma'am?"
"Well if you hadn't been I might have walked into that tent thinking it was the mess hall." She said jerking her thumb behind her. Joe turned, and sure enough he spotted the white sign with black letters which spelt out 'mess hall' sitting idly on its post in the ground. Joe sucked in a breath and pulled a u-turn only to be stopped and a little winded by an arm outstretched in front of him. "What's on your mind, Toye?" By her tone, Joe knew he probably shouldn't lie to her, but he wasn't about to tell her blatantly that he had been wondering if she was a bitch or not. An eyebrow rose over her glasses and he swallowed hard.
"Nothing, ma'am." She eyed him for a moment, and he knew she didn't believe him, but she didn't press the matter. Joe caught sight of Bill who raised his arm and was about to wave Joe over when Bill spotted Stella beside Joe and lowered his arm, going back to his toast.
Stella had to admit, that had hurt a little, but she puffed out her chest anyway and made for the queue. She wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself sternly.
Joe sat down with Bill and Buck, knowing from experience that breakfast was waiting for him there.
"Good job Bill,"
"What?"
"She's got one damaged eye, she's not blind." He hissed, going back to his breakfast before noticing that Stella was looking around the cafeteria, searching for an empty seat. He thought about calling her over, but before he got the nerve to she took one beside Perconte and Luz, who had her smiling in a matter of seconds. Luz had taken her hand, and presumably introduced himself, because Joe caught her stating her name and rank, and Luz's hand quickly left hers in a salute, as did Percontes. She waved the salutes away with a smile, shifting her eyes over to Joe for a brief moment. He looked down at his empty plate.
Stella smiled inwardly to herself. Honestly, these men must not have seen their girls in quite a while, she hadn't received this much male attention since her old troop had met her and all they had wanted to know about was her eye.
"So, George Luz and Frank Perconte. I'll try to remember, and I truly am sorry if I don't for a while. I'm rubbish with names."
"How long are you with us, ma'am?" Perconte asked.
"Until I die, or the war ends. Whichever comes first," She said, biting into her breakfast. "Pis j'amerai ben que c'est l'dernier.*" She muttered lowly, but someone appeared to have caught the comment. A little ways down the table a man with jet black hair leaned over the table.
"Vous parlez le Francais?*" He asked, and Stella perked up her ears, looking over the heads of the men.
"Oueh J'parl Francais... tu viens pas du Canada though toe, enh*?"
She asked with a bit of a chuckle. She could almost hear the bayou in his voice, an accent that a born and raised French Canadian would never have.
"Non, je vien de la Louisiane.*" She stood to greet the new soldier, shaking his hand firmly.
"Ton nom, mon frère?*"
"I'm so confused…" Perconte muttered, making Stella laugh.
"Eugene Roe. Most here call me Doc Roe. "
"Lt. Colonel Stella Jaworski. Finish your breakfast, soldier, you'll need your strength." She said patting him on the shoulder and returning to her seat.
"What about Canada?" Perconte asked, sounding more and more confused as the moments passed.
"My homeland," Stella said through a mouthful of food. Luz and Perconte looked at each other, suspicion in their eyes.
"Why would the American military send a Canadian with us?" Perconte asked, though by the stiffening of Stella's posture he thought perhaps he shouldn't have posed the question.
"They figured you should have an intelligence officer, and couldn't train one in time. I was available so they sent me." She said dully. Luz and Perconte nodded, it seemed legitimate. It wasn't as though their own military had a habit of storing intelligence officers around in boxes for whenever they needed an extra one, though Canada was in the war too. Perhaps they just had a surplus of that kind of officer, Perconte thought to himself.
"See you on the runway boys." She said, dropping her plate off at the kitchen before heading out the door. Joe watched her leave, and being near the kitchen end of the building, noticed that everyone else watched her leave too. Well, she certainly had caused quite a stir by being there, Joe had to wonder how much more of a stir she would make on the battlefield.
Stella let out a deep breath once she was outside the mess hall. It was true what they said, that acting as though one was something truly made one that thing. Still, she realised that lying to these soldiers was not going to be getting any easier, and reminded herself to just stick to her story. Field intelligence officer, sent by the Canadian military. Yes, just stick to that. Any other information she could simply say was classified since she held a rank that was quite high, not to mention she was SOE. She took one more deep breath to calm herself, and made her way back to the tent. She knew today was jump day, she could feel it in the air, and she had to prepare her gear, just the task to keep her mind off the fact that she was blatantly lying to the American Military.
It was about one in the morning when the first shots fired by the Germans woke Joe from the deepest sleep he had ever been in. He could vaguely hear the sound of the shrapnel hitting the plane, like rocks pelting against a tin can that he happened to be sitting in. He shook himself, wondering if his extreme calm was due to the anti-air sickness pills that had been handed out by Doc Roe before takeoff. Even as they drew closer to the drop zone, and the firing became heavier, he could remember feeling more fear on his practice jumps; where nobody had been firing on him. It was surprisingly easy, emotionally, for Joe to get out the door. The only problem was a blast of shrapnel had rocked the plane and sent him tumbling out, which had caused him a bit of panic. The real fear came to him later as he was floating down to the earth. He happened to look up to find a man close enough to inspect, wondering if it was just himself who hadn't tied his leg back properly and had managed to lose it, when he noticed one of the C-47s being shot down in flames, several burning figures falling without parachutes lighting up the night skies like a set of morbid torches. He let out constant prayers as he and hundreds of others dropped from the sky, he prayed that he wouldn't be injured, that he would have a safe landing and that if he had to die, that it be quick and painless, unlike those he had just witnessed falling in fire. He prayed that they would not survive the fall.
Translations
Teh ben fin toe enh? – You're so nice you eh? – You're such a gentleman.
Enh is pretty much just the French version of the Canadian 'eh', which replaces 'right?' at the end of the sentence.
Pis j'amerai ben que c'est l'dernier. - And I would like well that it be the last - And I hope for the later.
Vous parlez le Francais? - You speak the French? - You speak French?
Oueh J'parl Francais... tu viens pas du Canada though toe, enh? - Yes I speak French... you come not from Canada though, you, right?
This sentence shows the Franco-Ontarien (French people from Ontario) tendency to throw the odd English word into their speech, though it is not considered Frenglish to do so. You will usually only find this tendency in Northern Ontario, and very rarely in Quebec.
Non, je vien de la Louisiane. - No, I come from the Louisiana. - No, I come from Louisiana.
Ton nom, mon frère? - Your name, my brother?
A Note From Grizzly
I have decided not to include the episode names after all, for the simple reason that I've just crossed episodes, and I may do so again in the future. Let me know what you think of the French conversations, if it's annoying to follow then I will simply italicize the majority of Stella's French speech for the remainder of the story, otherwise I will keep it the way it is with the translations.
