Disclaimer: Nope I don't own Band of Brothers, just like I don't own Saving Private Ryan.

Note: Alright, here we are, Chapter Three. Finally! I'm going to keep this Note brief. I just hope that everyone is enjoying this fic and I apologize for the delays between updates. School is murder, I'm working on an original short story, other fics, school, work, etc. so its a big load. But I'm going to keep at this because I its important to me and I'm determined to complete it. So, please enjoy. I rather like this chapter, though its a little rough, a lot of information, and a fairly long chapter. Please review :)

Oh, and, if you're looking for another good BoB fic, check out Bobadoo's Lese Majeste :D

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Chapter Three: Aldbourne

"We're invading Europe, my friend."

Sitting in her seat on the train, Bridget smiled to herself as she stared at the stack of papers in her hands. On her right sat Lewis Nixon, the regimental intelligence officer, and across from him was Richard Winters. Across from her on the train that was bearing north, was the newest addition to their little family of officers. Lieutenant Harry Welsh was slumped in his seat, mouth slackened in slumber, and his legs sprawled across Bridget's lap. She didn't mind all that much because she was using his shin as a hard surface to write on. She glanced over at Nixon and Winters. It had been Nixon who had spoken conspiratorially to Winters.

"Liebgott will be pleased," she said, speaking in a murmuring tone, but one that she knew the two men could here. Winters laughed a little, as did Nixon, and Bridget smiled

"You don't seem to be very upset at the news we're leaving," Winters observed, the smile leaving Bridget's face immediately.

From the time of her talk with Captain Sobel to this train ride, destination Camp Shanks, Bridget had kept the information she had been entrusted with to herself. She had not breathed a word to anyone, not even talking about the choice with Colonel Sink. She had no intention of losing her one chance to follow Easy Company overseas. She had fretted for months about how she would deal with having to be parted from them, only to have a solution practically handed to her on a silver platter. Her instructions had been that she could not tell anyone until the information became common knowledge, and then of course it would no longer matter. However, she had been more than wary about letting Winters and the other soldiers in on the plan of her accompanying them to Europe. She had a feeling that the most common reaction would be one of horror and disagreement.

"Oh, well," Nixon piped up brightly, "Thats because she's coming with us, Dick." Bridget had a very strong to hit him, but the fact that he was an officer and that would be inappropriate held her back. She simply glared heavily at him before glancing cautiously at Winters, whose face remained blank.

"Lieutenant?" Bridget said tentatively after a few moments had passed.

"How long have you known about this?" Winters asked her, in a totally casual manner she wasn't expecting.

"Almost three months," she replied after a second of deliberation, "Sink told Sobel to tell me about it all."

"So Sobel knows?" Winters asked almost immediately after the words had left her mouth. She nodded, and he nodded, though more to himself than anything else. "That's good. I really didn't want to have to deal with his mood when he found out." Bridget's brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to make sense of this.

"You're okay with this?" she asked Winters suddenly, looking and sounding thoroughly puzzled, "You're okay with me going to Europe with you guys?" Winters shrugged, looking almost hurt that she would have assumed he'd be angry or upset.

"We'll need to discuss further details about how we're traveling," he said in a conversational tone, "But, yes, I'm perfectly fine with you accompanying us. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Really?" Bridget exclaimed a little loudly. Welsh jerked a little and sat up straight, blinking his eyes blearily.

"What's going on?" he asked through a yawn.

"Bridget is going with us to Europe," Winters told him plainly. Still blinking sleep from his eyes, Welsh did his best to look awake.

"That's great," he said, and then added, "We're going to Europe?" Bridget couldn't help but laugh a little, and soon the three men joined her. Nixon tossed Welsh his little silver flask, and the rest of the trip was made with the four chatting comfortably about what preparations needed to be made before they left. Bridget knew she was going to have to work twice as much to get all the supplies sorted out.

Arriving at Camp Shanks it appeared a though the rest of the regiment had deduced the same thing that Nixon had told Bridget, Winters, and Welsh. Everyone was talking excitedly in small groups. Bridget could understand their exuberance. They had been training for over a year, and just as much as getting their jump-wings had been a milestone, so too would be the fact that they were finally leaving home to go help fight the war. Knowing that she had a job to do, Bridget got on top of one of the jeeps that were parked near the front of camp while the officers gathered the regiment together. She stuck both forefingers in her mouth, to her delight many of the boys from Easy immediately put their hands over their ears, and blew a loud high-pitched whistle.

"Listen up!" she shouted with all her might, and for the most part everyone who was assembled turned in her direction, "I know that you are all eager to get passes for the city, but unfortunately we have a lot of things to do, and very little time to do it in. Your first round of inoculations will be administered over the next few days, and before any of you try using the 'needle shy' excuse, I would like to make it very clear that any man who does not complete all rounds of inoculations will be left behind. This is no joking matter." She paused a moment, sweeping her gaze around the entire group to make sure they got the point. "That being said, we will be going alphabetically and by platoon. So, that means Able Company, first platoon, you boys are up first. I will give you five minutes to get situated and then you are to report to the infirmary. Any questions? Good, lets get this done then." She jumped down off the vehicle as the large crowd dispersed.

In the infirmary, Bridget quickly unloaded the piles and piles of syringes and vials of liquid that would be used that afternoon. Helping her was Eugene Roe, a medic for Easy Company. He was a quiet man, but he was a hard worker and his intense concentration produced amazing results. Bridget liked him quite a bit, both as a person, and as a medic. He was going to be an asset to the company when they finally saw action. Of course, she didn't like to think about that, so she focused on the task at hand as the first round of victims came through the door. With the two of them working together, Bridget and Row were able to go through each platoon in about twenty five minutes. They made it through the entire 1st Battalion before they had to stop for the day. They were packing up the equipment when Roe spoke.

"So are you really going with us to Europe?" he asked in a low voice, his Louisiana accent clear. Bridget turned her face sharply in his direction, looking slightly alarmed.

"Did it get around that fast already?" she inquired, unable to keep all of the anxiety from her voice. Roe smiled a little at her, and held up a hand.

"Calm down, now," he said in his soothing voice, "I was sitting across the way from you guys when you were talking about it with Lieutenant Winters." Bridget sighed with relief, returning to the job of putting everything away.

"Yes," she finally said after a brief pause, "Sink made the decision the I would accompany you guys to Europe. You're probably going to take over all of the medical coordination once we're over there. I'm sure he just doesn't want have to find someone else to do the inventories and what not. How are you feeling with your training?" She closed the last of the boxes and shut it away in the supply cupboard for tomorrow. She turned around and leaned casually against the counter as she looked at Roe. He shrugged.

"I'm hoping they'll let us practice a little more once we're overseas," he said, "But other than that I think we got a good group." Brittany nodded.

"Spina doing alright?" she asked inquisitively. Roe nodded. "Thats good. I had my doubts, but I think you're right. We have a good group."

Roe said goodnight then, leaving Bridget alone in the infirmary. With only the warm glow of a single lantern on the desk, she went over the day's paperwork, making notations here, checking off something there. She didn't get very far before her thoughts began to distract her. She set her pen down and stared ahead at nothing. When it became obvious that there was no chance that she was going to get anything else done, she doused the lamp with a heavy sigh and retreated to bed. As had become the pattern, her makeshift room was locating in the back of the infirmary, and as she lay down on the soft mattress, she knew that sleep would not come easily. Her thoughts raced late into the night, until finally her eyes stayed closed and she slipped into a fitful slumber.

--

"Ouch!" Bridget rolled her eyes and pressed some gauze on the arm of the soldier who had cried out.

"George, stop being such a baby," she said wearily. Luz looked at her as he rubbed his arm tenderly.

"You said that wasn't going to hurt!" he exclaimed. She sighed and shooed him away so she could get to the next guy. He stood off to the side, muttering under his breath, but Brittany knew he was just trying to lighten her mood by exaggerating his pain. Too bad it wasn't working.

The truth was, she was in a foul mood because of her lack of sleep the previous night. Bridget had tossed and turned for hours after she had gone to bed, her mind unable to calm in its thoughts enough for her to slumber. She had wokend up in the early morning hours to set up the infirmary to start inoculations after the morning drills were over for the men of Second Battalion. Dog Company had come on and gone with little trouble. Only one or two men had tried to oppose the needles, but they were quickly reprimanded, coaxed, and in one instance restrained, and finally it was on to Easy Company. She had been both looking forward to this part of the day, and dreading it. She knew that most of the men were going to try to be difficult about the shots just to try and make her laugh. Unfortunately, she was not much in a laughing mood today.

"Next," she said in a droning voice, watching out of the corner of her eye as George pouted and walked off, still rubbing his arm. Looking up, Bridget watched as Bill Guarnere stepped forward from the line, already rolling his sleeve up.

"You look like crap," he said with a frown as he sat down on the stool that was set up next to the table. Bridget was preparing the next syringe. As she was filling it with fluid she looked over at Bill and glowered at him darkly.

"That's so sweet, Bill, thanks," she told him with heavy sarcasm in her voice. She tapped the syringe a few times and then stuck it firmly in Bill's arm, squeezing till it was empty. "Alright, you're done. Next!" Bill was still frowning at her as rolled his sleeve back down. He didn't leave, simply stood behind her as the next guy came up, which was Donald Malarkey, grinning goofily at her as he too rolled up his sleeve and plopped down on the stool.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" Bill asked sternly as Bridget prepared the next syringe for Malarkey. She didn't even look in his direction, almost deciding not to even answer him, but now Malarkey was looking at her with concern.

"Plenty," she lied, "You guys just bore me so that I've grown tired simply by being in your presence." Malarkey laughed at this as she administered the shot to him, but she could tell that Guarnere was still staring at her and not smiling. She determinedly looked anywhere but at him as she called the next person forward. Before she could ready the next syringe however, a booming voice filled the room.

"Company, halt!" the loud voice of Captain Sobel shouted across the room. He was standing a few feet from the doorway, his hands planted firmly on his hips and Evans at his elbow.

"Sir?" one of the men in the line said, Bridget couldn't tell which, "We're not exactly moving."

"Pass revoked," Sobel said, in a voice that sounded almost bored. But then, Captain Sobel revoked passes so often, that Bridget wouldn't have been surprised if he was growing bored with the punishment. She doubted it though. Most times it seemed to bring him great pleasure. She watched as Sobel walked straight towards her station, which was so unusual, that all she could do was stare as he stopped rigidly before her.

"Miss McKinley," he said formally, nodding his head once, curtly. The condescending tone in his voice, snapped Bridget out of her stunned state, and she gazed back at Sobel with hard eyes.

"Sir," she said, her voice just as curt as his nod. Sobel cleared his throat, and if it would have been appropriate for Bridget to groan she would have. He always did that when he was preparing to 'talk seriously'. She braced herself.

"I trust you've made the proper arrangements for when we ship out," he said in a professional voice, "Which I assure you will be soon."

Bridget felt like she'd been slapped in the face, and very much wished she could recreate the feeling for Sobel herself. Of all the rotten things he could ever do to her, this was what he had decided upon. Oh sure, it was simply coincidence that it was most of Easy Company that filled the infirmary when he chose to stop by and make his announcement. Not caring how much authority he had, she glared heavily up at Sobel, unable to do much else. She knew what he was trying to do. It had been obvious from the beginning that he didn't like the idea that Colonel Sink had invited Bridget along to Europe, and now he was hoping that the company of men she had become the closest with would have such an opposition to the idea as well, that Sink would decide that it was better to leave her behind. Well, two could play at that game.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," she said, controlling her voice as much as she could. It had been part of the agreement that she was not allowed to say a word to anyone about the fact that she was accompanying them overseas until such time that it was common knowledge to the men. As fas as she could tell, that time had not come, therefore she was playing dumb. It didn't hurt that Sobel looked furious with her.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," he said, his voice leeching through his clenched teeth, "And if you are not ready, then I'm afraid we'll have to leave you behind." The fact that he sounded much too pleased about that idea was what set Bridget off.

"I highly doubt that, Captain," she spat at him, her face the definition of anger, "But if you really think thats necessary then I can go talk to Colonel Sink about it. I'd like to take this opportunity to remind you that he is in charge of this regiment, not you, and it was his idea to bring me along to Europe, so I don't think you have any authority over the matter. Now if you'll please get out of my way, I need to finish administering these inoculation or nobody is going overseas!" In a huff she turned away from Sobel, picking up the next syringe and filling it up with fluid as she had been in the process of doing before. She thought that he would spout a retort, but moments later she heard the sound of his marching feet and the infirmary door closing.

Slowly, not looking anywhere but at her work, Bridget turned around and resumed her duty, getting ready to give Joe Toye his shot. She was afraid of looking at any of their faces, terrified that she would see looks of anger on their faces. She wasn't sure she could handle that. Her hand was shaking as she brought the needle closer to Joe's arm and she paused, taking a deep breath so as to steady herself. She hated when she let Sobel get under her skin like that. When she was able to aim straight, she finished with Toye and called the next guy forward. She hadn't been aware of the total and utter silence in the room until her voice cut through the air like a whip. The sound of her words bouncing crisply off the walls caused her to start, and she looked up without thinking about it.

All eyes were on her. She stood there, frozen, staring at them all with a look of fear on her face. She feared their disapproval, she feared their fury with her for even agreeing to it. Their faces were completely blank as they gazed at her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what they were thinking. She stood, every muscle in her body tense, in the middle of a sea of men that she respected and cared for. She had followed them from camp-to-camp and all she wanted was to make this last journey to Europe with them. At least, thats what she told herself now, because anything else seemed nothing but a dream. All at once she couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Alright," Bridget said, her voice more controlled than she had imagined she could keep it, "Before you all start yelling at me, we should get these shots done. Thats more important." None of them said anything, and no one moved, but after just a few more long moments, Guarnere finally spoke up.

"No wonder you look like shit," he said simply, standing there and staring at her with the frowning, brooding face of his. This being one of the last things she had ever imagined any of them saying in this situation, Bridget frowned back at him, feeling a little offended.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she inquired sharply. Guarnere rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, someone else did it for him.

"Well," Toye said, his raspy voice drifting over to her from his spot next to Bill, "You seem to think we're going to yell at you. Now why would we do that?" Bridget thought she must be hearing things, but she knew her hearing was perfect. She'd been tested multiple times for everything before she had taken up her post at Toccoa. She blinked in disbelief at Toye, and then looked around at all the faces around her. For the first time she noticed that none of them looked angry at her. She looked back at Bill and Joe.

"Okay, hold on just a minute," Bridget said, sounding a little irritated, "How can you guys not be mad at me? Its not safe for me, you don't want me to go, I'm only going to be a nuisance, I had to keep it a secret from all of you. You guys should be pissed!" Those had been all the reasons she had come up with and been thinking about for the past few months. She had been absolutely sure that they would all at least be upset with her. She had imagined a lot of shouting.

"Says who?" Luz asked from where he sat on the bed, his voice muffled as he tried lighting a cigarette, "I don't remember saying any of that. How about you, Muck?"

"No," said Muck, who was leaning against the wall off to the right, "I don't remember saying any of that. Don?"

"Nope," said Malarkey, "I think all the infirmary fumes have gotten to her head." He tapped his forehead for effect. A few more guys threw in their two cents, but all Bridget could do was stare at them all in complete disbelief. They weren't mad, they weren't upset. They were...

"I think its great," said another voice from behind them near the doorway. It was Nixon, accompanied as always by Lieutenant Winters, who stood silently next to him. Nixon, with his signature goofy grin on his face, strode further into the infirmary to where Bridget was standing, still in partial shock. "Who better to make sure none of us do anything stupid like shoot our own damn foot off? Besides, now we have a better chance of getting you to drink again. I hear England has some of the finest pubs in the world." This comment was rewarded with raucous laughter, and even Bridget wasn't able to hold back a grin. She looked around the room one more time at all the faces looking at her. They were still none of them angry. They were all looking at her with smiling faces. Except for Winters, whose face was still the blank one she had become so familiar with. It was his eyes that gave him away.

"So," she began carefully, letting her eyes drift around the room, "None of you have a problem with this?" The response was more than she could have ever hoped for.

"NO!" came the loud, firm response of everyone in the room. Bridget was speechless.

--

A few days later, Bridget was in the infirmary, where she spent most of her time while they were waiting for orders that they were moving out. Nobody knew when that was to be, not even her, and they were all growing anxious. No one had been allowed the leave the camp and all the men's hopes about passes to New York City were starting to look grim. Bridget wasn't very upset by this, partially because she didn't much want to see the city, but mostly because she was being kept very busy with preparations for when they would be leaving. There were more rounds of shots to administer and supplies that needed to be packaged and made ready. It was the afternoon, and she was carrying a box of life jackets to one of the trucks that were going to load the ship ahead of time.

"Hey, Bridget!" someone shouted as Bridget walked through the camp. She turned and saw George Luz trotting towards her. She sighed.

"You're not getting out of the last round of inoculations, George," she told him wearily, "I don't care how much you hate it." He rolled his eyes as he stopped before her.

"O ye of little faith," he said with a smile, "I'm actually here to tell you that Sink is looking for you. He says its important." This very nearly made Bridget leap into the air and dash in the direction of the regimental HQ. As it was, she paused long enough to shove the box she had been carrying into George's arms. Then she dashed off.

Colonel Robert Sink had become a significant person in Bridget's life, and she appreciated and admired him for it. He had given her a chance at a new lease on life, had taken her in at Toccoa. She knew she would never be able to repay him for any of that, but she was determined to at least be the best at whatever it is Sink asked her to do. It was the least she could do for him. He had also, in some small way, become something like family to her, a small way of filling in the void left by the death of her mother, and she had not seen him and weeks, hadn't talked to him in months. As she arrived at the HQ building, she slowed down as she opened the door and stepped inside. There were men milling about, many of them she recognized.

"Hello, Miss McKinley," said Major Horton who offered her a small smile, "Sink is in his office." Bridget smiled back at him and thanked him. She walked to the back of the building where she knew Sink's office was. She knocked politely on the door.

"Enter," she heard him say on the other side. She opened the door and went in. Sink was sitting behind his desk, just like he always was when she was called to his office. He looked at her as she closed the door. She stood and saluted him, which always seemed to raise a smile out of him, and it didn't fail today.

"At ease," he said, his tone full of amusement. He pushed his chair away from the desk a little and leaned back as he looked at her. "You look different than the last time I saw you." Bridget smiled.

"I had Liebgott trim my hair, sir," she said, reached up and running her fingers through her hair, which hung just above her shoulders, "It was getting a little unruly, and putting my hair up everyday just becomes a pain." Sink twitched a smile and nodded.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I've never had that problem," he told her, "But, I called her to discuss something important." It was Bridget's turn to nod.

"Yes, sir, thats what Luz said." Sink stared at her with serious eyes.

"We are leaving for England the day after tomorrow. You'll administer the last inoculations starting this evening after dinner, except Easy Company is your only duty. The other medics are trained enough to do the job in their own companies." Bridget nodded her understanding, and Sink continued. "Now, I know that I have not had the chance to discuss with you the plan of you accompanying us over seas, and I apologize for that."

"Its alright, sir," she said quickly, "I know that you're busy." Sink nodded, but he didn't smile.

"Captain Sobel said that you sounded as though you had reservations about going when he spoke to you about it several months ago," Sink said, "Like you didn't want to go, but you didn't want to let anyone down." Bridget resisted the very strong urge to scream. As it was, she clenched her fists by her said and actually bit her tongue hard. There was a moment of silence.

"Did he?" she finally said, keeping her voice as controlled as possible, "Well, I'm sorry he got that impression. I assure you sure I'm nothing if not ecstatic about the chance of staying with the regiment as long as possible." Now Sink did smile.

"Staying with Easy Company you mean," he said. Bridget grinned and glanced down at the floor.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly. Sink nodded, still smiling.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that you're pleased to go because I have a gift for you." As he said this, he reached underneath his desk while Bridget stared own with a puzzled look.

"A gift, sir?" she said. No sooner than the sentence had left her mouth, Sink tossed a small bundle at her. It was a pile of clothes folded neatly on top of one another. It even had a large bow tied around it. Bridget looked up at Sink with one eyebrow raised. He smiled wider

"Captain Nixon suggested the bow," he explained.

Bridget smiled and nodded. She pulled one end to the bow, undoing it in a single tug and lifted the topmost garment from the pile. She unfolded it and held it in front of her. There was a long silence as she stared at the front of it. It was as though the ability to form words had failed her as she stared at the Army issue uniform she held before her. It was no different than the ones all the men in camp wore, not to mention the used one she had used on the march to Camp Benning, except for one thing. The name MCKINLEY was clearly stitched on the left side. It was her uniform. Really and truly hers. She lowered her arms and look at Colonel Sink in disbelief. He looked back at her, his expression one of supreme pleasure that she seemed so happy about the gift. Before she could even say Thank You he tossed something else at her. She dropped the shirt she had been holding so she could catch it. Her face finally broke into a grin as she stared down at the metal chain in her hand.

"Dogtags," she said, looking at Sink grinning. He nodded.

"I figured," he said, "If you were going to come with us to England it'd probably be best if you looked like one of us."

His words, the way he said them, struck a chord in her that Bridget would never forget for as long as she lived. She would remember his words in the months that followed, and they became the firewood for her to keep the flames of determination that still worked in her mind going. If only Sink had known just what his display of generosity would do, perhaps he would have thought better of it. She thanked him and he dismissed her from his office. The entire walk to the infirmary, her mind was racing.

--

"Alright, keep it moving boys, lets go!"

Bridget waved more men up the platform that led to the ship which would be transporting them to England. The big day had come. The trucks had transported the entire regiment to the docking area where the SS Samaria awaited them. Getting all the soldiers onto the ship was a long process that would take hours. Bridget stood at the bottom of the platform, clipboard in hand as she checked off names. Colonel Sink wanted everyone accounted for and so had assigned the job to Brittany to make sure that everyone got on. So, there she stood, in her brand new uniform, life jacket already around her waist, checking the name of every soldier that walked by her. She ushered them onto the ship, telling them to kep moving and make way for the many more men who still needed to be crammed onto the vessel. Nobody spoke of it because the excitement was too high, but the fact of the matter was they were very nearly packing twice as many men on the ship as it had been made to hold. But that was the last thing on anyone's mind as they boarded the Samaria.

"You look good, doc," came a familiar voice, "I'm surprised you haven't gotten anything dirty yet." If the voice hadn't been enough, the laugh was a clear identifier and Bridget checked the name Bill Guarnere off her list.

"Keep it moving, Bill," she said without looking up from her clipboard. Still laughing, Bill walked up the platform.

The rest of Easy Company passed, with many more comments, all of which she waved off with a smile on her face. Finally, with the last man on board, Bridget took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly, and walked up the platform herself, joining the other guys near the railing. She squeezed in between Sergeant Lipton and Don Malarkey. She stared with all of them in awe as the boat moved slowly from the docks and out into the ocean. The sky was lit with the light of the sunrise, casting an orange glow over the water. As they passed the Statue of Liberty, it was doubtful that they all did not feel some sort of change, a reaction that this was it. They were off to England, off to the war, leaving home for the very first time in many of the their lives. These thoughts may have unnerved some of the men, but all Bridget could do was smile as she realized just how lucky she was.

At least...she felt lucky for the first twelve hours...

Bridget had wondered during the entire week before they left the States how in the world they were going to set up the sleeping arrangments for all the soldiers who would be onboard the ship. The question was answered as soon as she headed below deck to the sleeping quarters with a large group of E Company guys. She stared, wide-eyed at the sight before her.

To facilitate the soldiers, sturdy canvas cots had been bolted to the walls. Two wide, they were stacked on top of ech other, with approximately ten to a stack, with only about four feet in between each cot. It was total chaos as the guys went to find their spots. Organization was a luxury, but everyone had at least enough sense to stick with their own companies. Bridget did her best to keep the E Company guys from squabbling while they found cots, but eventually she just gave up and sat on her own cot watching everyone shout at each other. Eventually, everything quieted down for the most part, and they all began to get used to life on the boat. Sleep was hard to come by, because there was not a 'lights out', and so there were always a portion of people up and talking. All anyone could do was bury their heads and try and sleep despite the noise. Bridget didn't get much sleep, or any at all. She would close her eyes for a bit and wake up not remembering how long she'd been sleeping, but not feeling at all rested. This was because it seemed as though she had many duties to attend to. Like making sure the guys didn't kill each other.

"Luz!" Bridget shouted. She was standing in the middle of the sleeping area, elbowing her way through the sea of men that occupied the space. There were literally so many men on the ship, there was hardly room to move. "Luz, where are you?" She continued to push her way through the crowd when suddenly a man landed right in front of her.

"I'm right here," Luz said brightly as he grinned at her. Bridget scowled at him. She really didn't like it when the guys goofed around on the cots, especially the ones that were up high. But, she also knew that it was futile to try and and tell them they couldn't do it, so she just sighed.

"Where in the hell is your life jacket?" she asked him sternly, arms folded over her chest. Luz stared at her, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights of a car as he fumbled for words.

"Oh, I, uh, took it off when I came down here," he said nodding his head vigorously.

"Oh?" Bridget said, "So that wasn't you I saw up on the deck without a life jacket? It sure did look like you." Again Luz struggled to explain himself.

"I...I...," he began lamely, and then gave up, suddenly looking very guilty. Bridget sighed wearily.

"George," she said in a frustrated tone, "I told all of you guys that you are not supposed to go up top without your life jacket. It would be far too easy for one of you to fall over the side of this stupid ship!" She heaved a heavy sigh, massaging the side of her head with one hand. "Just don't let me catch you doing it again."

"Take a deep breath, doc," said a pleasant voice to her left, "Before your head explodes." Bridget turned her head casually to look up into the face of Skip Muck.

"Shut up before I have to smack that smile off your face," she replied sourly, before turning away from the both of them, "I'm going to lay down." And so she stalked off. Or, with an effort pushed her way through the crowd of men with a scowl on her face until she came to a certain column of cots and began climbing.

Twelve feet later, she found her cot, with her bags tied neatly to one of the corners. Bridget stretched out on the tough fabric. It was not the most comfortable bed she had ever slept on, but it felt heavenly to her limbs, sore from work in the kitchens. Despite the terrible din created by the hundreds of voices speaking at once, she closed her eyes, slowly working her way to the quiet place in her mind she had set up for herself in times like these. It was a place free of worry or stress, a place of calm and serenity. They were only about five days into the sea journey that would last nearly two weeks, and she already felt that she had perhaps bitten off more than she could chew. But then, she would remind herself that it was the men of Easy Company who had given her her life back, and so she would take a moment to relax, before throwing herself back into work. Just a moment, or two...

"Hey, Bridget," came Luz's eager voice. Bridget popped open one eye to see him climbing up over the side of the cot next to her's. He was her 'cot-mate' as it were.

"What is it now, George?" she asked wearily, propping herself on her elbow.

"You've got to come see this," he said, "Penkala blew his nose in his hanky and I swear it looks like Rhode Island." Bridget could do nothing but stare at him with a completely blank expression on her face, following this statement.

George Luz was her best friend. She was good friends with almost all the men of Easy Company, but George had been a different case. It was not something that developed over time. Like the way young school children bonded together on the playground, it had happened almost instantly and without question. They could spend hours together talking, though they were more often than not with a group. They were not inseparable. Far from it. It was more like an unsaid contract between the two of them to be loyal to the other through any situation. Their bond was a quiet thing, and especially at times like this, she wondered if she were mad for be allowing herself to be such friends with him. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out there was a commotion on the floor.

Shoving her best friend out of the way, Bridget peered over the side of the cots to see two men, whom she recognized as Liebgott and Guarnere, swinging their fists at each while a bunch of other guys tried, only half-successfully, to pull them apart. With a furious sigh, she swung herself over the edge and half-fell, half-slid down the twelve feet from her cot to the floor. She practically landed in the middle of it, which had been precisely what she wanted. She hated when they did this.

"That is enough!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, forcing her way between the two fighting men. They stopped as they saw her, just as they always did, and she glared heavily at them both. Damn them for ruining her moment of peace. "What in Gods name is it this time?" She glanced sharply back and forth between the two men, who were both panting heavily.

"He insulted me!" Liebgott shouted, pointing at Guarnere, who scowled back.

"I did not!" Bill yelled back, "I insulted Sobel and being a moron you took offense!"

"You called him a Jew!"

"He is a Jew!"

"But hes Sobel!" Bridget had had just about enough of this.

"That's enough!" she repeated, silencing both of them, "This is ridiculous. Of all the fool things you could be fighting about, you're fighting over Sobel? Worse yet, you're fighting over Sobel's religion? You know its bad enough that I have to be on this God forsaken boat with you bunch of neanderthals. I don't need to be breaking up fights that shouldn't be happening in the first place. Your boys, I don't care if you get into squabbles over someone insulting your mother or something like that, but if I catch any one of you fighting over something as pointless as religion I'm going to throw you overboard. Is that understood?"

"But-," Liebgott tried to say.

"No buts! We're all on the same side. Religion means nothing! Hes a Jew, your a Jew, everyones a Jew. How about that?" Bridget stared around at the men assembled, most of whom were staring at her with wide eyes. She took a deep breath. "Now, if you'll all excuse me. I'm going to go lay down." With that, she turned around and climbed back up to her cot, where George had stretched out on his own bed. She crawled over him and resumed her spot. With a contented sigh, she laid her head back down on her makeshift pillow and closed her eyes.

"Bridget?" she heard George ask. She sighed, but didn't open her eyes.

"Yes, George?" she replied, her voice somewhat muffled since her face was half-pressed into her pack.

"Are you ever going to tell them that you're a Jew, too?" Bridget smiled a little to herself.

"Probably not."

---

Aldbourne, England was a beautiful place. It was just as picturesque as one could ask for with its rolling green hills and little brick houses with thatched roofs. The weather was still fairly warm when the SS Samaria dropped its load of soldiers off, but within a month fall began to set in, and soon after that winter. The temperature dropped, and rain became a common thing, but it was not unbearable.

Bridget McKinley, who had started out as nothing more than a medical coordinator at a small training camp in Georgia, now found herself in a very different world than she was used to. She was a person of great interest to the citizens of Aldbourne, walking around in her military uniform, arriving on the same boat as the Yanks. Everywhere she went people stared at her, but she did her best to keep her head held up high and do the job she had come here to do. This included doing weekly inventory checks and submitting orders for anything they were lacking, as well as her regular medical duties, though these were slowly being taken over by the medics who were in training. This left her with a lot of free time.

"Hey, doc!" The voice was familiar, so Bridget didn't bother opening her eyes. She was spread out on the top of a low brick wall which lined one of the many dirt roads in England.

"What is it, Malarkey?" she said stretching her arms above her head.

"Shit, how'd you know it was me?" Malarkey said. Bridget sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"I could probably identify half the company by their voice," she explained simply, "Now did you want something, or were you just trying to interrupt my nap?" She smiled a little, just to let Malarkey know that she wasn't really upset, and he smiled back.

"Colonel Strayer is looking for you," he informed her, "I think he said something about having a question about the supply orders."

With a sigh, Bridget pushed herself off the wall. She thanked Malarkey and told him to run along or he'd be late for the drill that had been scheduled for that afternoon. When he was gone she headed off in the direction of the company HQ where she knew Strayer would surely be. The man was not as courteous to her as Sink was. Strayer had made it abundantly clear that all he wanted to do was ignore her existence, since he could not speak out against Sink's decisions. However, as tensions mounted, and the inevitable invasion drew closer, she saw less and less of Colonel Sink, leaving her to deal with the other officers.

"Mick!" called another familiar voice as she was just coming upon the HQ building. Bridget couldn't help but smile as she turned around to see her friend Luz walking up to her. 'Mick' was the new nickname he had dubbed her with just a month or two ago. He said it was how the beginning of her last name sounded when you said it.

"Hey, Luz," she greeted him, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the drill?" She looked at him sternly. He grinned at her.

"Actually, that's why I'm here," he told her, "Winters wants to know if you want to tag along." This had become a common thing, Bridget 'tagging along' on Easy Company's drills. Unfortunately, glancing at the watch she wore on her wrist, she knew she wasn't going to make it.

"I wish I could," she said with a sigh, "But Colonel Strayer wants to talk to me about the new supply orders. They go through him now." She watched Luz's smile slide his face as his eyes widened, and she knew what he was thinking. She waved a hand at him dismissively. "Don't worry about. Its nothing. We'll talk later, alright?" And with that Bridget shooed him away as she finished the short journey to Strayer's office.

"Come in," said Strayer's voice when she knocked on his door. She pushed the door open, closing it quietly behind her. Strayer was sitting behind his desk. Bridget strode over and stood before him at attention. It had mostly become habit by now, but she also knew it annoyed him a bit. He looked up at her with a frown.

"Miss Mckinley," he said in a formal greeting.

"Sir," she responded. Strayer pushed himself away from his desk and looked up at her.

"I was just reviewing the most recent supply orders," he began, "And I'm noticing a lot of extra stuff being ordered. Would you care to explain this to me?" He was trying to sound so intimidating and authoritative, that it reminded Bridget for a moment of Captain Sobel, who was still terrorizing the men of Easy Company.

"I always put a few extra down on the order forms, sir," Bridget replied casually, "Never enough to make much of a dent in our funds, but ordering the precise amount for the battalion is just not smart in my eyes. The boys, they lose things, destroy things, even without meaning to. Having a few extra on hand to replace things is the wise thing to do. I base the numbers off of any reports the boys have trouble keeping track of certain things, or any differences from the initial inventory check with a supply load gets here to when I do the check before I fill out the new order forms. Colonel Sink never saw any problem with it." Adding this last bit was a gamble on her part. She knew it would annoy Strayer, but she also hoped that it would embarrass him enough to let her get out of there.

"Point taken," Strayer said after a pause, "I'll send these off first thing in the morning. You're dismissed." Bridget nodded and marched out of the office.

By her watch she knew that Easy's drill had already begun, so there was no hope of catching them. Instead she walked through the picture perfect town until she reached the small building that had been set up to house their infirmary. There was less and less work she needed to do with the medical stuff, but some of the local people occassionally brought their children in with cuts or the sniffles, and for lack of anything else to do, Bridget tended to them as much as she could. She had gained a great rapport with the people of Aldbourne, something that the men appreciated when she accompanied them to the pubs. Stepping inside the infirmary now, she heard the small bell above the door ding as she opened and closed the door. There were very people inside.

"Good afternoon," she said brightly as she walked up to the person at the front desk, none other than Doc Roe, "I trust everything is just as sound as when I left?" She sat on one side of the desk, leaning forward so she could look at the papers he was pouring over. She shook her head. "No no, these are A80 order forms, A90 are the ones we use for medical supplies." Roe grumbled and set them down, looking up at her with a mixture of annoyance and something else.

"Back so soon?" he said plainly, "I thought you'd be off with the rest of them on that drill." He pushed himself from the desk and got up, stretching his arms and walking over to the coffee pot in the corner. Bridget stayed sitting on the desk, shrugging her shoulders.

"Strayer wanted to talk to me about something," she explained, "By the time I got out of his office they were already gone. I'm sure I'll hear all about it when they get back anyway." She sighed and got up walking over to one of the cots and stretching out on it.

"Coffee?" Roe asked her from across the room.

"No," she responded, covering her eyes with her arm. After a moment or two she sensed Roe sitting down on the cot next to her.

"You don't normally say 'No' to coffee. Is something wrong?" Bridget sighed again.

"Nothing's wrong," she told him in a totally unconvincing tone. She lifted her arm just enough so that she could see the look on his face that clearly said he wasn't buying it. She sighed again. "Nothing is wrong yet. You know, when they do these drills, I'm just always worried about what Sobel is going to screw up this time." Bridget sat up, and Roe handed her a cup of coffee. He had had two the entire time. She smiled a little, and took it. The first sip was heavenly. She thanked him.

"Anytime," he said, taking a drink of his own coffee, "And I wouldn't worry too much about the other guys. Winters is with them. I'm sure he can take care of anything Sobel does." He didn't sound like he totally believed this, but she appreciated the effort to make her feel better.

Later that afternoon, Bridget sat on the steps of the house she was billeted at with a few of the other guys. She was drinking a glass of water, with her other elbow propped up on her knee so she could rest her head in her hand. She was gazing out at the rolling landscape with her brows furrowed. She had been sitting like this for several minutes. She didn't even turn her head when she heard feet approaching from the left. There were more than one pair.

"Alright," she said, still without looking, "Who wants to explain the cows?" As she said this another large cow passed in front of her line of vision. It was the cows meandering through town that she had been watching for the past few minutes.

"Uh," one of the approaching people began. Turning her head finally, Bridget saw Luz walking beside her other roomate, Malarkey. Perconte was with them, too. It had been Luz who spoke. He continued. "There was a bit of a mishap on the drill." Both Malarkey and Perconte snickered, but Luz was eyeing Bridget warily.

"Sobel?" Bridget asked curiously, setting her glass of water down next to her. At this Malarkey and Perconte actually burst into laughter. George's lips twitched as they he wished to do the same, but his eyes were still on Briget.

"You could say that," Perconte finally answered her, "The schmuck got lost again, ran us right into a barbed wire fence. He made the entire platoon take cover while he tried to figured out just how he'd fucked up. Then Luzzy here did Major Horton and spooked our fearless leader so we could get moving again."

"Yeah, because you told me to," Luz shouted defensively, smacking Perconte on the back of the head.

This led to Perconte punching Luz in the shoulder and before she knew it Bridget watched as the two men began wrestling around on the ground. She went to go stand next to Malarkey who was watching the brawl with the same blank fascination as she was. She knew exactly what Perconte had mean when he said Luz 'did Major Horton'. Luz's uncanny knack for imitated people's voices was already legendary. She leaned towards Malarkey.

"Did you guys get away with it?" she asked quietly, so as not to disturb the two fighting men. Malarkey grinned.

"Oh yeah," he said cheerily, "Sobel never had a clue until we got back and there were cows wandering around everywhere. Then Strayer asked when what the hell had happened and when Sobel said that Major Horton had ordered him to cut the fence, Strayer politely informed him that Major Horton was on leave in London." Bridget couldn't help it and she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles. Luz and Perconte were still rolling around and grunting. Bridget glanced at her watch.

"Alright, boys," she said, her voice raised slightly, "Thats enough. Its almost dinner time." The fight was broken up almost immediately, whether because of her instruction or because of the mention of food she didn't know, and they both stood up and dusted themselves off. They even dusted each other off. Bridget had to fight to keep from giggling again. She pointed at Luz.

"You're in trouble for doing something so stupid," she told him, "If you had gotten caught it would have been very bad. And you," she pointed at Perconte, "are in trouble for telling him to do it in the first place." There was really no threat behind it. There wasn't much she could do in the way of punishment. "Now I am heading to the mess hall for dinner. Isuggest you follow me. God knows what kind of trouble you could get into if I leave you alone." So she did, and they did.

Dinner was a simple affair as it always was. The mess hall was loud with voices. Bridget sat with her usual group, a mixture mainly consisting of guys from second platoon, with a handful of men from first platoon, and one or two third platoon soldiers thrown in. She talked and laughed, and discussed the day's events with the guys. She asked about the drill, what had happened with Sobel, what the objective had been, how they felt everyone had performed, and she asked what was on the schedule for tomorrow. Everyone was happy, or content. The novelty of being in England had not yet wore off for many of them. Homesickness occurred, of course. That was to be expected. But for the most part, everything was good, even with the idea of the European invasion looming over their heads.

Later that evening...

"Okay, so walk me through that again," Bridget said, sitting at a desk in her room in Mrs. Linley's house that she shared with Luz. He was sitting next to her as they both stared at several pieces of paper which had been laid out on the surface of the desk.

"You pretty much got it down," he told her, "We just went over base of fire, and dug foxholes. Nothing drastic." Bridget nodded, sighing and leaning back in her chair, massaging her temples. She was getting a headache.

"Alright, now what about different formations?" she asked, leaning forward again to pour over the papers, "Have we gone over them since last week?" She picked up a few papers and peered closely at them. Feeling Luz put a hand on her shoulder she turned to look at him.

"Take it easy," he told her softly, "You're going to work yourself to death. Now come on, lets have a cigarette and go to bed."

For a moment, Bridget was ready to refuse, to insist that they needed to keep working, but her fatigue, and George's pleading face got the best of her. She sighed heavily and pushed herself away from the desk. She followed Luz over to the window. Mrs Linley didn't like it when they smoked in the house, so they had to smoke near an open window. They sat down and Luz pulled a pack out of his pocket, handing her a cigarette and lighting it for her. For a while they sat there, silently blowing smoke out the window, gazing out over the town of Aldbourne, now utterly still in the darkness.

"Hey, Mick," Luz said after the long silence, still staring out the window, "Are you sure about this?" Bridge sighed. This was something she had heard from George before, had in fact heard it almost every night for the past few months.

"Yes," she replied simply, turning her head slowly to look at Luz, "I've told you before that you don't have to do this. If we're caught, it will be bad for both of us. But I'm sure." Luz turned to look at her, a solemn look on his face. There was another silence as they stared at each other, and then Luz's face broke into a large, goofy grin.

"What are friends for, huh?" he said cheerfully. Looking at his face Bridget couldn't help but smile herself. George finished off his cigarette and tossed it into a cup on the dresser. "Come on. Lets get some shut-eye." Bridget followed suit and climbed into the bed, which Luz had insisted she take. Putting the lamp out, she settled into the blankets. She lay there a moment, staring into the darkness.

"Thank you, George."