The next day, Easy wondered when they'd be moving on from this town.
Frankie wasn't itching for a fight, but she did feel restless. When she wasn't sitting down, she was running around after Lipton and helping him out with inventory or head counts, because a few others from Easy had started to show up. They were still missing Blithe though, Floyd, Shifty and Smokey hadn't turned up either. It wouldn't make up all of Easy, but it would make up those who were missing their friends.
"Look, why don't you sit down, alright?" Lipton suggested to her, "nothing else to do but wait, Frankie".
She nodded, "alright".
She hadn't pissed the Sargent off, but she probably had been annoying him for the better part of the day. Frankie sat down next to Perconte, who was still admiring his watches and explaining to Dukeman about the value of time. He only needed one watch to value time but Perconte did have a lot of valuable watches up his arm.
"Well, look who decided to show up, Floyd!" Luz exclaimed.
Frankie lifted her head and saw Floyd. And he hadn't come alone. Smokey and Shifty had joined him and soon, Blithe was sitting next to her. Frankie smiled a little and looked up at him. God, it was so good to see him again. Frankie was relieved to see that he wasn't hurt, and he looked well enough.
"How was your jump?" Dukeman asked him with a grin.
"Well…I missed the DZ".
Perconte chuckled, "yeah…that goes without saying".
"I guess so…". Blithe mumbled quietly.
Frankie frowned a little. Maybe he wasn't okay after all.
"Got any souvenirs to trade?" Perconte exposed his arm to Blithe. "They're all ticking. Unlike their previous owners. Got anything good?"
He shook his head, "not yet".
Dukeman tried to reach over and take on of the watches, "hey!" Perconte exclaimed.
"So, we lost anybody?" Blithe asked.
"Tommy Burgess took one to the face". Dukeman replied, "Popeye Wynn got pinked in the behind. They're 'gonna be okay".
"That's good".
"You run into Lieutenant Meehan on your travels?" Perconte asked.
Blithe shook his head, "no, why?"
"Company's HQ's still missing. They think the plane went down".
"They say he's 'gonna turn up". Dukeman pointed out.
Perconte snorted, "yeah, I ain't holding my breath".
"Who's in command now?" Blithe questioned softly.
"Winters for now". Dukeman replied, "Lieutenant Welsh is 1st Platoon".
"Hey, Alby". Hoobler greeted him, "how're you?"
"Fine". Blithe replied.
Frankie's eyes slowly met Hooblers, who had a small frown on his face.
"Let's go, 1st Platoon!" Welsh soon called out, "Easy's moving out, on your feet!"
Frankie got onto her feet and walked down the stairs.
"Listen up! I'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on". Welsh said, "that means no talking, no smoking and no playing grab fanny with the man in front of you, Luz".
"So, where're we headed to, Lieutenant?" Someone asked.
"We're taking Carentan".
"That sounds like fun". Perconte approved.
"It's the only place where armour from Omaha and Utah beach can link up and head in land. Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole Division".
"Remember boys". Luz began intimidating Taylor, "give me three days and three nights of hard fighting, and you will be relieved".
"Lieutenant, I'll take point". Hoobler offered.
"Corporal Hoobler will be lead scout". Welsh informed the rest, "Blithe, glad you could join us".
"Thank you, sir". He said quietly.
Welsh nodded, "1st Platoon, fall in behind Fox Company. You people from 2nd and 3rd Platoons, follow us. Shake a leg".
"Another thing to remember boys". Luz was back at it again, "flies spread decease, so keep yours closed".
A few of them chuckled.
"Shut up, Luz".
Frankie picked up her pace and walked behind Hoobler and next to Blithe. With Fox in the lead, they remained contact through radio. Luz had the biggest radio of all, while a few others had smaller ones and the officers had ones a bit bigger but not as large as Luz's. And the walk should bring them by the entrance of Carentan by tomorrow morning. They had to attack from the south side of the town. But first, they had to travel through wet terrain and mud. They should reach the Douve river by sunrise, which would bring them into Carentan.
And the plan would have gone perfect, if they didn't keep on losing Fox Company.
Each time they lost them, Welsh would send a few runners to retrieve the Company. It didn't take too long but the officers were getting angsty now, they had a tight time schedule to follow. Perconte and Floyd returned after bringing Fox Company back into radio range. And they moved on again, for the fifth time that night.
"Dammit". Hoobler whispered.
"What?" Welsh asked.
"We lost F Company, sir".
"Again?!"
Hoobler nodded, "we lost F Company". He told Perconte.
"Again?" He hissed, "hey, Blithe, Skinny, guess what-"
"Perconte, go back and pass the word to hold up". Welsh told him.
"Yes, sir".
"Hoobler, take Blithe and Hughes, go find F Company".
"Yes, sir – com on, guys".
The three of them walked into a tree line with Hoobler leading. Frankie was at the back and Blithe was in the middle of them. The mosquitos were a nightmare at the moment because the ground was so swampy and marshy. Frankie had to slap her neck a few times, just so they'd stop pinching and nipping at her skin. Hoobler soon heard something and raised his hand.
"What is it?" Blithe asked him quietly.
"Flash!"
"Thunder!"
The three of them turned around and saw a lone trooper peaking out from behind a tree.
"I can here yawl, all the way across the field". He said.
Hoobler gave him a nod, "you F Company?"
"That's right…where yawl been?"
"Tiny, Alby, go back to the Lieutenant. Tell him we found F Company. I'll figure out where these yokels are at".
Frankie snorted, "sure thing, boss".
"Hey! Who're you calling a yokel?"
It felt a little tense walking back with Blithe, mainly because he was startled and looked tensed. Frankie tried to calm herself down, she didn't need her voice sounding wound-up like a string in front of her already nervous friend. But when Blithe gasped an raised his gun, Frankie took up Scottie and tried to find what might have been out to attack them.
"He's dead, Private".
They both looked behind them. Well, Winters and Nixon weren't going to attack them, and neither was the dead German, which had startled Blithe.
"Did you find Fox Company?" Winters asked.
"Yes, sir…I thought he…I thought he had me". Blithe said, referring to the German.
Nixon took a step closer, "Fallshcirmjager".
"Paratrooper". Blithe mumbled quietly, looking back at the German.
"Division thinks there's a regiment of them holding Carentan".
"Well, there's one less to worry about". Winters said.
And something had caught Blithe's attention. It was a small white flower, sitting neatly in the dead Germans front pocket. Nixon noticed his stare.
"Yeah…that's Edelweiss. That only grows in the Alps above the tree line. Which means he climbed up there to get it. It's supposed to be the mark of a true soldier".
Frankie rubbed the back of her neck, not feeling as tense anymore.
"Alright, lets head back". Winters said, "come on".
Frankie took the lead with Blithe next to her. They didn't have to travel too far into the tree line to locate Fox and the sooner Hoobler returned with them, the better. Frankie looked back up at her friend. His blue eyes were wide and shiny. And she did feel a little worried about him.
"Hey – eh – Alby?" Frankie whispered.
"Yeah?" He croaked.
"What's going on, mate?"
Blithe shook his head, "I'm fine, Frankie".
"Right". She mumbled, "its just – well, you're not".
He swallowed, and his voice sounded strange, "I'm fine".
Frankie looked away from him and back towards Nixon and Winters. They were a few feet behind them, talking quietly about how, "officers were crapping out on training", she didn't quite know what they meant but it did have something to do with Fox. When Winters caught her eye, Frankie faced the front again. She wasn't eavesdropping, she was listening.
"You'd tell me, right?" She mumbled, "like, if something was wrong?"
Blithe gave her a faint nod.
"Okay". Frankie whispered, "I won't ask again, mate".
The next morning, 0600 hours, Easy were in position to attack.
There was a stretch of road leading up to the town, with ditches on either side. Winters gave Welsh the signal to move up and as soon as 1st got onto their feet and ran up the road, a German machinegun opened fire, right down the middle.
"In the ditch! Down! Down!"
Of course, the sanest thing to do was to take cover in the ditch. But Welsh, George and Shifty had managed to entre the town, the three of them were alone. With this gun blazing, they had no chance of getting up and heading into the town. Frankie couldn't help thinking of her friends, who were all alone in there. She wanted to get up and help but every time she tried to leave the ditch, a bullet flew right past her face. She took her cover back and sighed, the piercing sound of the machinegun could have turned her insane. And Frankie thought maybe she'd die today, just from running up that road because they had to move.
"Follow me, Easy!" Winters was yelling, "Buck – get them up! Move! Move! Get out!"
Frankie had never seen Winters angry before. No one had. And right now, he was yelling and kicking men out of the ditch. Frankie didn't want to be screamed at, not today, so she got out of the ditch with the others and they headed up into town. Frankie was shocked she hadn't been hit and was relieved that Dukeman, Martin and Blithe were beside her. Once they reached cover, Martin turned to most of his squad, Hoobler had ran further into town.
"Right, two to a house. Bud, Frankie – houses to the right, go!"
Frankie and Dukeman moved to the right side of town. Luz and Hoobler were a few buildings up, while Lipton and Shifty headed towards the factory. They both targeted their first house and kicked open the door, before tossing their grenades through the window. After the explosion, they both barged inside the house and shot the Germans inside.
"Clear!" Dukeman called from up the stairs.
"Same!" Frankie called back, coming out of the kitchen. "I found some chocolate".
Snorting softly, they both made their way back onto the street.
Carentan was probably a really nice and growing town, once upon a time anyway. But now, the streets were littered with bricks, shells, bullets and debris. It was loud and chaotic. Dukeman and Frankie moved from one building or house to the next. They didn't come under any harm, not yet anyway. Though around them, men were falling left right and centre. Both Americans and Germans.
"They've got us zeroed! Get off the street!" Lipton was yelling.
The Germans had brought in their mortars, aiming it in the middle of the street. Dukeman and Frankie both raced to the side of the road, while it blasted off. A few bricks landed by them, as the shell hit a building close by. Frankie raised her head and gave Dukeman a slap on the arm.
"Clear! Come on!"
They sprinted towards another house, doing their usual routine of blasting the main room through the window and then kicking down the door. Frankie ran up the stairs this time, checking out the rooms. When she barged into a bedroom, she was met with one little boy huddled into the corner of the room. He didn't look older than five. Dropping her rifle, she approached the boy and crouched in front of him. He was bleeding from the side, she could see the blood escape through his fingers.
"I need to see it". Frankie told him, nodding towards the wound.
The boy nodded, still looking a little frightened, and lifted his shirt. Frankie felt sick when she saw it, no one that small should have a wound that big. She brought out her aid kit and sprinkled the wound with sulphur powder before wrapping a bandage around him. The boy was brave, he only whimpered once. Frankie gave his shoulder a squeeze.
"I'll get you out of here, come on".
She carefully picked the boy up and rested him on her hip and that's when he started crying out in pain. Frankie took in a sharp breath.
"I know, mate, it's sore". She mumbled, "but you're 'gonna be alright".
"Frankie!" Dukeman yelled, "Frankie! Get out! Get out!"
Frowning a little, Frankie made her way out of the bedroom, while the boy wrapped his arms tightly around her neck. Dukeman was still screaming for her to hurry up and when her foot touched the first step, something blaster through the top window and a few moments later, there was a huge explosion. Frankie didn't have time to react, it all happened so fast. One minute she was on the top of the stairs, next she was falling hard and fast. It felt like the earth had swallowed her up, what with all the bricks and broken bits of furniture that had landed on top of her. When Frankie opened her eyes, all's she could see was darkness and a little spec of light creeping between a chair and bricks.
"Frankie!"
"Here".
Dukeman began to remove the rubble, "are you hurt? What's going on, huh?"
She swallowed, "I – I think I'm okay".
"Good – keep talking to me, huh?"
"Bud…where's the boy?"
"I never saw a boy, Frankie". He told her, "did you?"
Frankie moved, just a little. Her head hurt and her back. "Shit…".
"What?" Dukeman asked, panicked. "Frankie? I've almost got you, alright?"
"Fuck – Bud, he's dead".
"What?"
"The boy". Frankie said, "he's not beside me, man…".
"Frankie, come on". Dukeman urged, "help me out here, huh? Tell me something".
"Bud, I'm fine".
"Right – of course, you are".
Soon, a hand appeared. Frankie reached up and touched it.
"Hey, Frankie".
Her lips twitched a little, "alright, Bud".
"You got buried alive, Frankie". He told her lightly, "almost got you".
When his face appeared, Frankie knew she would be okay. Dukeman smiled small and reached into the small opening. He grabbed her from under the arms and pulled her up. Frankie hissed in pain, just a little. But she was glad to be back in the fresh air again. Taking in a few deep breaths, Dukeman set her down.
"Bud…can you check?"
He gave her a nod and looked back inside the small opening. Dukeman sighed, "can't see him, Frankie".
"Fuck". She whispered, turning around and looking back towards the house. Though, it wasn't a house anymore, it was just a pile of bricks. Frankie got back up and started to move towards the bricks.
"I found your rifle – Frankie!" Dukeman walked over to her, "what are you doing?"
"Man, I have to find him". She whispered, while getting onto her knees and moving the bricks away. "He was just a kid, Bud".
Frowning, he knelt beside her, "Frankie…your heads bleeding pretty bad".
"I'm fine".
Dukeman sighed, "okay, let me help".
I'm fine, just happened to be Frankie's famous last words. For when she stood up, the whole world tilted, and her eyes glazed over into darkness. She might have done more damage to her head, if Dukeman hadn't caught her, just in the nick of time.
When Frankie opened her eyes, she found herself on a bed in the aid station. Sitting on the edge of the bed was Winters, who had a hand on her shoulder. Frankie frowned a little, why was he here? And then she noticed that his lower leg was wrapped in a bandage.
"Sir?"
"I'm glad you're awake, trooper". He wore a kind smile, like usual.
Frankie slowly sat herself up, "sir…your leg…".
"Flesh wound". He told her, "how's your head? You feeling okay?"
She nodded, "yeah, sir".
Winters continued to smile, "well, I think someone here wants to thank you, Private Hughes".
Eyebrows pulling together, Frankie looked towards the bed next to her and saw the little boy, sitting on the edge with a tiny smile. Her shoulders dropped in relief, "Bud found him, sir?"
"He managed to sneak out after you". Winters said quietly, "well done, Frankie".
"I'm glad he's alright, sir". Frankie mumbled, looking up at him again. "What happens now?"
"We're heading east, towards higher ground". He told her, "we expect a counterattack".
Frankie swung her legs around, "I'll need a new helmet, sir".
"You don't want to rest for a few more minutes?"
"I'm alright, sir". Frankie told him, jumping down from the bed. "Not got a lot up there anyway". She said, giving her head a tap. Winters chuckled quietly.
"Well, you and Private Blithe are free to leave".
"Alby?" She looked up at him sharply, while grabbing Scottie.
Winters nodded, "I think he'll be willing to share what happened, trooper".
"Thank you, sir".
Frankie made her way towards Blithe, who was sitting on one of the beds. She tried to ignore the stained tear tracks down his face, but it was hard. Frankie jumped up and sat next to him. Blithe sniffed and rubbed his eyes.
"You must think I'm stupid". He croaked.
Frankie shook her head, "no chance, mate". She mumbled, "you alright?"
Blithe cleared his throat, "doc called it hysterical blindness".
"You were blind?"
He nodded slowly, a distant look crossing his eyes. "It was scary, Frankie…I couldn't see anything, everything just went black on me".
Frankie looked up at him, face forming into a tiny frown. "You're 'gonna be alright, Alby. I'll look after you".
Blithe smiled a little then and met her eyes, "thanks, Frankie".
Frankie and Blithe walked out of the aid station and made there way back into town. Things had quietened down, and men were beginning to gather supplies and take a knee, to grab something to eat before they moved out again. Dukeman and Hoobler were relieved to see them both up and walking. Frankie thanked Dukeman for carrying her and the boy back to the aid station. And then she left them to it, in search for their squad leader, who was with Guarnere and Buck.
"Alright, kid?" Martin asked her, "took quite the tumble, huh?"
"A whole fucking house, Sarge".
Guarnere grinned and gave her hair a gentle ruffle.
"Can I borrow him?" Frankie asked Buck and Guarnere.
"Have him back in one piece, champ". Buck told her.
Martin placed a hand on her shoulder, leading them away from the others. When they stopped walking, Frankie cleared her throat.
"Eh – Alby's 'gonna need a few eyes".
He nodded and crossed his arms, "done, kid". He assured her, "we'll keep him focused".
Frankie nodded faintly, "cheers, Sarge".
"You need a helmet, I'll fetch you one".
"Aw, yeah – fuck, I forgot".
Martin smirked, "don't sweat it. I'll find you one". He then asked, "what happened to him?"
Frankie frowned again, "Gene said it was hysterical blindness, Sarge…no fucking idea what it means, like, but he can see again".
He sighed quietly, "alright, thanks for letting me know, kid".
Frankie gave him a nod and Martin walked back towards Buck and Guarnere. She reached inside her pocket and tutted softly. "Lost my chocolate – bastards".
"Frankie!"
She checked her other pockets, just in case. "Yeah?"
Luz grinned and squeezed her shoulders, "what're you doing?"
"Ah – nothing". Frankie mumbled, "what's up?"
"Nothing, just wanted to see how you were".
"How's the outcome?"
Luz sighed, "well…lot of wounded, Frank-O. Lip's at the aid station".
Her eyes widened, she looked up at him. "Shit, really?"
He nodded, "Floyd took him. He's 'gonna be fine, coming back with us soon".
"Not so serious?"
"Almost, Frankie". Luz told her, voice turning serious. "Almost lost his nuts".
Frankie grimaced, "Jesus…well, least he's alright".
"Oh, almost forgot – here".
She soon smiled, when a chocolate bar was placed in her hands.
"Don't eat it all at once, Frank-O!"
Easy, Dog and Fox were making their way towards higher ground. The didn't spend long in Carentan once the battle was finished and they had secured the south side of town. In fact, they had one hour's rest before moving out on foot once more. Martin had found Frankie a helmet and she felt much better for having one. Blithe was doing a little better as well, he seemed back to his usual self, though still a little out of it. But true to his word, Martin kept a good eye on him.
"Hey, Luz? How far we going?" Perconte asked.
"Oh, Jesus Christ, Frank. I don't know. Until they tell us to stop".
"High ground". Hoobler said, "there's high ground up ahead".
"Okay genius answer me this then". Perconte went on.
Hoobler smiled and looked towards his right.
"Why is Easy Company the only Company who's either at the front of an advance, or like now, exposed at the far edge of the line?"
"To keep you on your toes". Hoobler said.
"No, that's not that I'm saying". Perconte went on, "I'm saying that we're never in the middle, and we're the fifth of nine Companies of this regiment. Able through Item. Think about it".
"See there? You see that-"
"incoming!"
Frankie hissed and jumped to the side and got behind a hedgerow. The Germans were attacking from higher ground, perched on top of an embankment with their own hedgerows as cover.
"Contact right!" Welsh yelled, "get in the hedgerow!"
Hoobler turned to Perconte for a moment, "see what I mean?!"
The attack went on until nightfall, where they then had to dig in for the night. Frankie and Hoobler spent an hour tops digging the perfect foxhole. It had started to rain as well, and on top of that, the Germans were singing from across the field. The pair of them sat down, leaning against the mud, while rain soaked into their uniforms. It wasn't ideal.
"Why the fuck are they singing, Tiny?"
"No idea, Hoobs".
"It's piss annoying".
"Yeah".
Hoobler wiped some rain off his face, "you know, today went alright".
Frankie bobbed her head, while she stared at her rifle.
"Pretty easy, huh?"
"Easy?"
Hoobler nodded, "the Krauts have their big weapons and shit but they're not scary in person. You know?"
Frankie looked up at him, "yeah…I think so".
He smiled at her, "Alby will be alright, Tiny".
"I think so too". She said quietly, "I mean – couldn't have been easy, eh? Not being able to see and that".
"Yeah, must have been scary". Hoobler agreed, "point is, he's fine now". He said, "that's all that matters now, Tiny".
Frankie blinked and looked back towards her rifle, which was resting between her knees.
"How's that head of yours, Tiny?"
She snorted, "it's not sore".
"Nah…like – I 'dunno, do you get scared?"
Frankie shook her head slowly, "nah…not yet, anyway".
Hoobler smiled a little, "yeah, same".
Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the chocolate bar Luz gave her. "Want some?"
"Yeah".
Frankie broke the bar in half and handed one half to Hoobler.
"Nice one, Tiny". Hoobler grinned, biting down on a square. "Shit – that's good".
Frankie took one square off and put the rest back into her pocket, "aye, it's good".
"Hey, Tiny?"
"Yup?"
Hoobler smiled, "don't ever change".
Frankie nodded, "yeah – alright then".
She managed to sleep for a little over an hour, before a strange noise woke her up. It sounded like moaning, like someone was in pain. Frankie shouldered her rifle and climbed out of her foxhole. Hoobler was still fast asleep and he'd be okay if she was quick about checking out the noise. Though, she didn't get very far, before bumping into Blithe and Spiers.
"What are you doing, Private?"
"The noise, sir".
"I just came from there". Spiers told her, "everything is under control".
Frankie gave him a tiny nod and he gestured for her to follow them.
"You've got some nervous privates in your Company".
"We do, sir". Blithe agreed, "yeah, we do. I can vouch for that".
"They just don't see how simple it is".
Frankie looked up at him.
"How simple what is, sir?" Blithe asked, while getting back into his foxhole hole beside Martin, who was sleeping.
"Just do what you have to do". Spiers went on.
"Like what you did on D-Day, sir?"
Frankie's eyes widened a little and Martin opened one eye to look at Blithe.
"Sir, when I landed on D-Day, I found myself in a ditch all by myself". Blithe told him, "I fell asleep. I think it was the air-sickness pills they gave us. When I woke up, I didn't really try to find my unit…to fight".
A small frown reached her face then.
"I just – I just kinda stayed put".
"What's your name, trooper?" Spiers asked.
"I'm Blithe, sir. Albert Blithe".
"You know why you hid in that ditch, Blithe?"
A tear rolled down his face, "I was scared".
"We're all scared". Spiers said, "you hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope. But, Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier's supposed to function. Without mercy. Without compassion. All war depends on it".
The look on Blithe's face was almost too hard to watch. Frankie took in a tiny breath and gave Blithe a small nod, before she followed Spiers away from their foxhole. Frankie couldn't decide whether what Spiers had told Blithe was the right thing, or the wrong thing to do. She couldn't imagine Winters, Buck or Welsh telling them that if they were scared. But then again, Frankie didn't see Spiers the way she saw the officers from Easy.
"You're Frankie Hughes".
"Eh – yeah, sir".
Spiers nodded, "your Grandad is a war hero".
She cleared her throat, "if that's what they say, then it must be true, sir".
"Does it have to be true?"
Frankie shook her head, "not always, sir".
"So…he's not a war hero?"
She sighed quietly, "honestly, sir? I have no idea. You'd have to ask someone who was there, sir".
Spiers had this tiny smirk on his face. "You know how stories start, Private Hughes?"
Frankie shook her head, "with an eyewitness, sir?"
"No, because even the witness heard it from someone else". He said, "and you know, stories usually never end".
She looked up at him, "are you meaning 'bout D-Day, sir?"
They reached the foxhole, Hoobler was still asleep. Frankie got in beside him once more.
"Goodnight, Hughes".
"Night, sir".
What a strange conversation.
The next morning, most of the NCO's were gathered around Welsh, who had taken a spot in Frankie and Hooblers foxhole to brief them.
"We don't know what they've got. We may be attacking a weaker force. Possibly more Paratroopers".
"And we all know how they can be". Hoobler said.
Welsh grinned, "fire and manoeuvre. That's the name of the game. Fire and manoeuvre".
Frankie rubbed the back of her neck, "who's our left, sir?"
"Dog and Fox Company will be our left flank, Hughes". He told her, "moving with us. Any other questions?"
They shook their heads.
"Let's make them holler".
Frankie grabbed her rifle and got out from her foxhole. And then.
"Mortar!"
"Incoming! Everyone in the hole!"
Hoobler grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. Frankie covered her head and soon lifted it back up, once their round finished. She scooted towards the edge of the foxhole. It was near impossible to spot a German, what with all the hedgerows in the way. Frankie rubbed her lips together, before she picked up Scottie.
"Hoobs – we need to get across the field".
"Right!" He gave her the thumbs up, "come on, before we start taking down the hedges!"
A few of the guys followed after them and once in the field, they got down on their stomachs and started to fire out from a lower position. The Germans had the upper-hand because they were on higher ground. But attacking from here, they could easily spot them and fire. They didn't have a lot of time in the field, because the mortars would need to tear down some of the hedgerows to expose the Germans positions.
"Get back! Come on!" Martin was yelling to them.
Hoobler slapped Frankie on the arm. "Let's go, Tiny!"
Quickly, they got onto their feet and reached their line again.
"Watch for silhouettes on the horizon!" Winters was running down the line, "find your target! Muzzle fire!"
Frankie was right at the edge of the line again, trying to find a target. She was just shooting at anything for a few moments, hoping she was doing a good job. The mortars were doing the most damage and the machineguns, from their line. But the Germans soon brought something else in.
"Where the hell did they come from?!" Welsh exclaimed.
The Germans had brought in their Tigers, which had completely overrun their left flank. Dog and Fox pulled back from their line.
"Holy shit! There goes our left flank!"
Frankie sighed quietly, now Easy were surrounded. The Tigers were quick and very powerful. They could get through the toughest terrain. And their guns let off a terrible bang, shaking the ground to its core. Frankie did feel a little tense at that moment, fearing that they would lose this line to Tigers. Frankie gave Hoobler a clap on the arm.
"I'll go further down!"
He nodded, "stay low, Tiny!"
Low was all she knew, Frankie was small. With each blast from the Tiger, Frankie threatened to fall but somehow managed to stable herself and jump into a foxhole further down. Frankie was about to stand at the edge of the foxhole, when a new sound caught her attention. It was a scream. But it wasn't a scream from pain, not like she had heard during Carentan. This was a scream of utter fear and terror and it was coming from right next to her. And it was coming from Blithe.
"Oh, fuck". She whispered, dropping her rifle and placing both hands onto his shoulder. Blithe had his hands over his ears, screaming with tears pouring down his face. Frankie had never seen such distress on someone before. "Ably!" She called out to him, "hey – come on, mate!"
Frankie thought he'd never snap out of it and she was worried. But then Winters turned up and knelt down. She moved out of the way and grabbed Scottie, while he placed a steady hand on Blithe's shoulder.
"Come on, Blithe. Stand up! Get on your feet, solider. Get up, Blithe!"
And it was like witnessing a magic trick. Blithe opened his eyes, his tears stopped, and he got onto his feet, grabbing his rifle.
"That's right, Blithe. You can do it!" Winters continued to encourage Blithe, until he was standing by the edge of the foxhole, aiming towards the Germans. "Fire your weapon, Blithe! Hit those Goddam Germans! Rip at them, Blithe!"
Frankie was standing next to him, watching her friend carefully. His eyes relaxed, his whole body stopped shaking and Blithe took his first shot.
"Keep firing!" Winters was standing up high, showing Blithe that there was nothing to fear. Frankie maybe felt a little moved, that he cared so much about them. "Let them have it! Keep firing! Don't slack off! Pour it on them, Blithe!"
Frankie turned her attention back towards the field and for a few minutes, the three of them fired out together. Winters left to check on the line, Frankie stayed with Blithe. He was going to be fine, she told herself, he was doing his job and excelling at it. Frankie did feel proud of Blithe, he had overcome a fear which blocked his mind. And now, he was doing brilliantly.
Welsh and McGrath had a tense moment. They had a bazooka and walked into the field, stopping and kneeling down towards one of the Tigers. Frankie watched the first fire miss the Tiger, and the tank firing out towards them. It missed them both and headed down their line. They fired the bazooka a second time and managed to bring down one of the Tigers, before running back to the line. Frankie sighed quietly, shaking her head – that was too close.
And then, a blast came from their right. Frankie feared it was more Tigers but as it turned out, it was the Sherman's. 2nd Armour had come to help. Finally. And Frankie could relax a little, knowing the Sherman's would take out the remaining Tigers and push the rest of the Germans back. Until next time, that was. Blithe put down his weapon and laid down in the foxhole, while Frankie watched the end of the show. Easy were happy to sit back and watch. They had done a lot of damage, but the Sherman's took care of the rest.
Sighing quietly, Frankie turned away from the field and slid down in the foxhole, staring down at Blithe, who was looking up at the sky. Frankie looked away from Blithe and stuck her rifle between her legs, before reaching into her pocket and taking out her bar of chocolate. She broke off a couple of squares and placed them into Blithe's hand.
"Thanks". He mumbled softly.
Frankie nodded and leaned back against the mud, closing her eyes.
"Hey, buddy? You two okay?"
Blithe and Frankie both opened their eyes. It was one of the tank drivers.
"Looks like you fellas had one heck of a fight".
Blithe soon got onto his feet and climbed out of the foxhole. Frankie turned around and watched him walk across the field. Biting her lower lip, she grabbed Scottie and got out of the foxhole and walked back down the line to check-in on her friends.
"Some fight, huh?" Dukeman said.
Frankie sat down between Dukeman and Hoobler. She put her rifle down and rubbed her muddy hands together, "yeah…".
"Where's Alby?" Hoobler asked.
"Taking a walk".
"Oh?"
Frankie nodded, "yeah".
Dukeman frowned, "he's okay, right?"
"We don't have to worry anymore, Bud".
"You remember that noise from last night?" He then asked.
Frankie nodded, "what was it?"
"Smith stabbed Floyd with his bayonet. Thought he was a Kraut".
She raised an eyebrow, "Floyd alright?"
"He's 'gonna be fine".
Frankie snorted and shook her head.
Hoobler looked at her, "what?"
"Nothing, just – Spiers reckoned we had nervous guys".
"Oh, he did, did he?" He muttered, "they're the ones who pulled out".
"Nah but – we're not nervous, are we?" Frankie said, "we're too fucking stubborn".
...
For twenty-five days the 506th held the line at Carentan.
Frankie was right, they were stubborn.
Currently, they were staying low seventy-five yards outside a farmhouse. Welsh and Nixon were up front, having a quiet discussion on how to ask for volunteers. Eventually, Welsh turned around to face his Platoon. No one wanted to go, they had held the line for twenty-five days and any day now, they hoped they'd get some relief. It had been since England since their last shower and a proper hot meal. And they were hoping to get to a camp soon.
"Need to take a look at that farmhouse. Who wants to go?"
At first, no one offered. And then, Blithe did.
"I'll go".
"Anybody else?"
Guarnere had told Frankie once to never volunteer for anything. But if Blithe was going, then she was going too. So, she nodded.
"Me too".
"Good". Welsh said, "Martin, Dukeman. You just volunteered. Hubbah, hubbah".
Frankie got onto her feet with the others.
"I'll be lead". Blithe said.
"Blithe's lead scout. Move out".
Frankie followed in behind Blithe, a tiny smile on her lips. They moved past weeds and long grass, creating a weak path. The farmhouse was up ahead, the only cover they had was the vegetation and a cart, near the front entrance to the house. With Blithe still in the lead, Frankie followed behind him and they both took cover. He stood up a little and was about to wave Dukeman and Martin over.
"Okay".
And then one single shot ran out from the top window, hitting Blithe on the side of his neck. His rifle fell from his hands and he slumped onto the ground, right in front of Frankie. It was very still for a moment, until the guys started to fire out towards the house, so they could move Blithe back towards the rest.
"Come on, Blithe!" Martin grabbed his jacket, "hang in there!"
Dukeman grabbed the other side of his jacket and they both started to drag Blithe back. Frankie hadn't moved from the cart. She didn't know why she had frozen. She just wasn't expecting that to happen.
"Hughes!" Welsh yelled. "Get back!"
They were trying to spot and take down the sniper from the top window. Frankie turned to face the house and positioned Scottie towards the flashes of light. The sooner they took care of this German, the sooner this would all be over. She couldn't see much but Frankie could see a shadow from behind the open window. And, after zeroing in on her target, she took in a deep breath and exhaled with the trigger. The sniper went down like a sack of potatoes and Frankie ran back to the others.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Welsh yelled, once the sniper was out.
By the time Frankie reached Blithe, Gene was already on the scene. Running a hand down her face, she knelt down beside him and noticed just how calm he was being. God, Frankie would have been freaking out if she had just been shot but Blithe was the calmest person at that moment. And as if sensing a change in emotions, Blithe reached out and took her hand. Frankie cleared her throat and gave him a tiny nod, while squeezing his hand gently.
"They're pulling us off the front line". She heard Winters say.
"Now?" Nixon asked.
"To a field camp north of Utah beach. Hot food, hot showers. Then back to England".
Frankie closed her eyes for a few moments. Well, that was just great.
"Alright, let's get him up". Gene said, "stretcher over here!"
Frankie opened her eyes again. "I'll – eh – I'll see you, Alby".
Blithe gave her hand a squeeze and was soon placed on the stretcher. Frankie got onto her feet and watched as the medics took him away and carefully placed him on the front of an A-jeep. She wondered if they'd ever see each other again. Frankie hoped they would.
"Come on, kid". Martin sighed softly and placed a hand on her shoulder, "let's go".
The field camp wasn't in the best conditions, but it was paradise after spending twenty-five days outside. The first thing they did was shower. Frankie spent a good twenty minutes in that shower, washing all the blood, mud, sweat and grime from her body. Her hair was a different story, it had grown a lot since leaving Scotland. She had it tied up for the duration of training and being in combat. So, once it was down for the shower, Frankie couldn't even run her fingers through her hair, it was so matted. Once she dried herself and put on a fresh uniform, Frankie stuck her hair back up and left the shower block. All's she needed was a pair of scissors and someone willing to help.
"Ah – watch yourself, Frankie".
"Sorry, man". Frankie then turned around, "wait – you busy?"
Liebgott turned around, "what's up?"
Clearing her throat, she nodded towards one of the tents. Sighing quietly, Liebgott followed her inside. Frankie then reached behind her head and pulled out the elastic band she was using to keep her hair up. It fell down, almost touching her waist and the knots were terrible. Liebgott frowned a little and nodded.
"I'll take care of it, Frankie".
She sat down on the bed, he sat behind her. Liebgott brought out a pair of scissors and a comb from his musette bag and got to work. He started to cut away at the matted parts from her hair first and then cut most of it off, so it reached her shoulders. It didn't look so bad. At least this way it would be easier to maintain. Frankie turned around to face him and nodded.
"Cheers, Lieb".
He smiled, "it's alright – come on, let's get some grub".
After supper, Frankie wondered over towards a fence. She stood up on the platform and could see the beach. It was still a mess, with barbed wires, blown up landmines and even blood. She couldn't even imagine how bad this beach would have looked on D-Day. She leaned against the railings, chin on her arms. It was quiet here, in this camp. The only thing she could hear was the flap of the American flag, which was pulled high up towards the sky. Frankie faced the water again, gentle waves collided into the sandbank. It was very peaceful. They'd be getting on a troop ship again and heading back to England. At least then they could relax, until their next jump. Frankie didn't know how her Grandad and dad did it. She wasn't even sure how she survived. She put it down to luck, because a bullet could have easily taken her, just like it did for Blithe. And she could have been blown up, just like what happened with Hall.
How did they do it?
"It's very peaceful here".
Frankie jumped a little and looked up, "yeah, sir".
Winters leaned against the fence and stared out towards the water. Swallowing, Frankie faced the front again. Maybe Winters came down to be alone. Frankie figured she'd better leave, just in case but just as she was about to climb down, Winters placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from going anywhere.
"I'm very proud of you all, Private Hughes".
She placed her feet back onto the railings, "I'm proud of them too, sir".
His lips twitched, and he let go of her shoulder.
Frankie stared out at the sea, in silence with Easy's Commanding Officer next to her. Sobel wouldn't have done this, that was for sure. If Sobel was still in charge and he saw Blithe having that terrifying moment, it would have been awful. Winters was a great leader because even in the toughest of situation, he remained positive and kept everyone going and focused. So, maybe it wasn't all down to luck that Frankie had survived Normandy. Maybe she survived because of Winters and because of Easy. War was weird in that sense. You bonded like brothers, while people tried to tear that bond apart, with grenades, machineguns and Tigers. And even though Blithe wouldn't be returning to war, Frankie would always share that bond with him.
"Oh, I almost forgot".
Frankie looked up at him, "sir?"
"I think Blithe would have wanted you to have this".
A small white flower was soon placed in her hand, "Edelweiss". She whispered, looking down at it. "Thank you, sir".
Smiling, Winters clapped her shoulder.
"He got it after the counterattack". Frankie mumbled, "he wore it in his front pocket, sir".
"I noticed". He said, "it went to the right person, trooper".
She looked up at him and gave him a nod, "yeah…Alby earned it, sir".
"He did".
...
They arrived back in Aldbourne on the 7th of August. And it was like returning home.
The stables hadn't changed, and the locals all welcomed them back into their village. It was a lovely reception. Although, one thing changed. They had replacements. Easy first took notice of them when they walked into their billets to put their bags down. The replacements looked a little anxious to meet the guys who had just come back from Normandy. The 101st Airborne had made a few headlines in the papers and were even talked about on the radio. But they didn't have to be too nervous, not with Frankie, at least.
Rewards and promotions were made soon after their arrival. Everyone who was at the Brecourt battery assault was awarded a bronze or silver star. Frankie was given a bronze star, it stood out beside her jump wings and battle ribbons. Buck, Guarnere, Lorraine and Winters were given the silver star. And in honour of Hall, he was rewarded a bronze star as well as a purple heart. Frankie was given one as well, for the house which collapsed in on her when she saved that little boys life. Malarkey was promoted to Sargent, as well as Toye, Muck, Popeye, Liebgott, Hendrix, Ranney and Christenson. Guarnere, Martin, Bull and Floyd were made Staff Sargent. And Winters was promoted to Captain, making him the now official CO for Easy Company.
But the biggest surprise of all, was when Winters handed Frankie Corporal stripes. She wasn't expecting to get a promotion because she couldn't remember doing anything to earn it. Still, she shook the man's hand and allowed him and her friends to congratulate her, even if she didn't understand why.
They were given one-week furlough and Frankie decided to go back to the farm, one last time. Only this time, she wanted to go alone. There was too much to sort out and she wasn't planning on doing anything fun this time around. So, she told Hoobler and Dukeman to stay behind. Frankie made it into Dunfermline by eight at night. When she got out of the taxi, a black car was in the driveway. Well, she wasn't totally alone.
"Grandad?"
"Frankie?"
She saw him in the living room, looking at even more unpaid bills. Though, he soon stood up when he saw his Granddaughter.
"Corporal Hughes". He whispered, shaking his head. "My…look at you, Frankie".
"What – eh – what's going on?" Frankie mumbled, sounding a little awkward.
John Hughes sighed quietly, "I was tending to these payments before we put the farm on the market again. Apparently, someone knocked the for sale sign down".
She cleared her throat, "right, so…where's mum and dad buried?"
He raised an eyebrow, "you want to see their grave?"
"Yeah, I mean - I'm meant too, right?"
"I'll take you tomorrow". John offered, "or, I'll drop you off".
Frankie nodded, "alright, sounds good".
"Which is it?"
"Fuck – I don't care". She mumbled, "just – I'm not staying here long, alright? I'm heading back tomorrow".
John nodded quickly, "right…of course, Frankie".
Frankie sat down on the arm chair, mostly everything was packed away. All the photos, her mum's ornaments – everything. Nothing was left here that her mum used to make. All the memories had left the house. Not that Frankie minded…not really.
"Well?" John asked, sitting back down on the couch. "How was it?"
She snorted and rubbed the back of her neck, "how's any war, Grandad? It was shit".
"All of it?"
Thinking for a moment, Frankie shook her head.
John smiled, "I believe the best parts, are the successions. Am I right?"
"Yeah".
"And there were many, Frankie". He said to her, "but sometimes, in order to win, one must lose. I've had my share of defeats. But we won in the end".
Leaning back against the armchair, she looked at him.
"I find that there are far, far better things ahead than we leave behind".
Frankie bit down on her bottom lip, "I don't".
John looked at her.
"I'm here and they're still over the English Channel". She mumbled, "buried in mud, water and bricks". She said, "I'll never leave them behind".
Frankie didn't sleep well that night. She was on the ground in the living room, a cushion under her head and a blanket across her body. Her Grandad was on the couch, he fell asleep hours ago. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Blithe's face while he got shot, or Hall's body in that underpass. Frankie wished she had stayed in Aldbourne with her friends, because facing the reality that she no longer had her parents, was hard to digest.
The next morning, John dropped her off outside the cemetery, which was only a few minutes away from the train station. He got out of the car and stood before Frankie.
"Well, dear". He said, "this where we say goodbye".
Frankie looked up at him.
"I don't suppose I'll be seeing you again for quite some time".
She placed her hand in front of her, John smiled and shook it.
"Good luck, Frankie".
Giving him a nod, she let go of his hand and John got back into the black car. Frankie put on her cap and walked into the grave yard, boots crunching against the gravelled path. It didn't take her long to locate her parents joint grave, it was the shiniest one in the graveyard. Her Grandad had spent a lot of money on this grave, which was very kind of him. She stood before the grave and just stared at it for a few moments, before eventually placing down the bunch of flowers she had bought from the shop. Frankie was never good at words. She didn't know what to say, or if she should say anything. She ended up not saying anything because it wasn't like they could hear her, they were buried under the ground, after all and Frankie had never been religious.
It was a relief to be back with Easy in Aldbourne. Hoobler and Dukeman were happy to see her again, they had a warm beer in the local pub to celebrate her arrival. Frankie would be turning eighteen soon, on the twentieth of August. That was crazy to her.
"Got the numbers". Hoobler told them both quietly.
"What's the damage?"
He sighed, "sixty-five in total were wounded, twenty-two of them were killed".
"Fuck". Dukeman mumbled.
"Strange to think one of them was Alby". He added softly.
Clearing her throat, Frankie raised her pint. "Well…here's to them".
One week after their furlough and Easy were back at it with training scheduled for the next day. The whole of Easy were gathered in the barn, Smokey and Floyd were back from the hospital and Smokey had written a poem; The Night of the Bayonet.
"The night was filled with dark and cold, when Sargent Talbert, the story's told. Pulled on his poncho and headed out, to check the lines, dressed as a Kraut".
Frankie looked over at Floyd, who was grinning and shaking his head.
"Upon a trooper, our hero came, fast asleep, he called his name. Smith, oh Smith, get up! It's time to take your turn out on the line. But Smith, so very weary, cracked an eye, all red and bleary. Grabbed his rifle, he did not terry, hearing Floyd, but seeing Jerry".
They laughed at that. Smokey was brilliant.
"It's me, cried Tab, don't do it! And yet Smith charged, with bayonet, he lunged, he thrust, high and low. And skewered the boy from Kokomo!"
They all clapped and cheered.
"Since you weren't wounded by the enemy and thus didn't qualify for a Purple Heart, we've taken matters into our own hands. Tab, this is for you". Smokey handed him one of his Purple Hearts.
"Congratulations!"
"I could have shot the kid a dozen times". Floyd said.
"Yeah, right". Liebgott grinned.
"I just didn't think we could spare a man!"
"Hey – Frankie!" Guarnere was calling her over, "come here, someone I want you to meet!"
Clearing her throat, Frankie got up and headed towards the other table. She gave Guarnere a nod and crossed her arms, "yeah?"
He grinned and gestured towards a young man sitting across from him, "this is Edward Heffron. He's from Philly".
Frankie looked at him, "right?"
Guarnere was still grinning, "ain't she a treat?"
Heffron got onto his feet, "nice to meet you, Frankie".
She took his extended hand and shook it, "eh – yeah, likewise".
"Couple of announcements to make men, Frankie". Lipton soon called, "first off – listen up!"
Everyone quietened down then, Frankie turned around to look at him.
"First, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been cancelled".
"Oh, yeah!" Muck cheered.
Lipton frowned a little, "secondly. All passes are hereby revoked. We're heading back to France, so pack up all your gear. We will not be returning to England".
Everyone's faces dropped. This was too soon.
"Anyone who has not made out a Will, go to the supply office. Trucks depart from Membury at 0700. As you were".
Her eyes flickered towards Hoobler and Dukeman, who stared back at her.
Well, this was shit.
"You're in 1st, right?"
Frankie frowned and turned around, looking up at Heffron. "Yeah".
He nodded, "right…my buddies in your Platoon".
"Who?"
"Uh – Miller, Garcia and Hashey. They're with Sargent Randleman".
She gave him a faint nod, "well – they're in good hands".
"And Julian too". Heffron went on, "we were in training together, actually".
Frankie looked over at Guarnere, who smiled at her. "What the hell are you planning?"
He shrugged, "nothing. Heffron's a cool-hand, Philly guy, you know?"
"You know who else was from Philly?"
"Alby".
Frankie nodded, "yeah – Alby".
"Ah, kid". Guarnere said, "you can tell by the walk, if someone's from Philly".
"The, I have a stick up my arse, walk?"
He laughed, "yeah! That's it, Frankie!"
She gave Heffron another nod, "see you around, mate".
"Yeah…see you, Frankie".