9

Title: "Foreshadowing," Chapter Three

Author: Darkover

Characters: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Herbert Sobel, Harry Welsh

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Summary: See Chapter One.

Author's Note: For this chapter, I have drawn heavily upon some of the dialogue used in Episode One. I ask the reader to forgive me, but I considered it necessary. Please read and review!

"What is this?" Sobel demanded, holding up a can of fruit before the eyes of his junior officers. "Anybody," he added, when there was no response.

"Ah, it's a can of peaches, sir," Nixon said dryly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faintest hint of a smile on his best friend's face as one corner of Winters' mouth turned up. Careful, Dick, he mentally tried to telegraph to his friend. If Sobel thinks you might be laughing at him, he'll make your life even more miserable than he already has—if that's possible.

"Lieutenant Nixon thinks this is a can of peaches," Sobel said, emphasizing every other word with mocking sarcasm. "That is incorrect, Lieutenant; your weekend pass is cancelled. This is United States Army property…."

As Sobel ranted on, making it clear that his definition of contraband was even broader than the Army's, Nixon, Winters, and the other two second lieutenants all remained rigidly at attention. None of them betrayed their thoughts or feelings about the leadership skills, or lack thereof, of the C.O. of Easy Company. Winters had already stuck his neck out a moment ago by asking if a personal letter was to be considered contraband. It hadn't done any good, but as usual, Nixon realized, Dick had been trying to defend the enlisted men as best he could. While there were still times when Nixon admired Sobel's rigorous methods of training, the latter's increasing, thinly-veiled hostility toward Dick Winters was beginning to worry him.

Finally, Sobel wound down, after making sure to deprive everyone in Easy of their weekend passes. "Dismissed. Lieutenant Winters, come with me."

Nixon glanced back sharply, but of course there was nothing he could do. He didn't know what their excuse for a C.O. wanted with his friend, but it was a safe bet that it was not a matter of paying Dick a compliment.

Nixon returned to their shared quarters, looking up quickly when his best friend returned. "What did he want this time? Do you have to inspect the latrines again?" If there was any kind of a dirty job to do in this camp, Sobel gave it to Dick, every single time.

Winters smiled and showed his new bars. Nixon whistled. "A full Lieutenant! Congratulations, Dick."

"Thanks," the red-haired man said, with one of his rare broad smiles.

"I'll bet that must have hurt," Nixon said. When Winters raised his eyebrows, Nixon added; "Giving you those bars. I'll bet that caused Sobel actual physical pain. He hates your guts."

"You once called him a genius," Winters said, sounding a bit amused.

"Yeah, well, I still think he has the right idea about pushing the men to their limits—and then past that. But now he's getting paranoid—and the object of his paranoia is you."

"We have different styles of leadership," Winters admitted. "He believes in intimidation and continual misery. I know training for paratroopers has to be intense. The more we sweat in training, the less we'll bleed in war. I get that. I just can't believe humiliation is ever a good way of teaching anybody anything. If you expect a soldier to act like a man, it seems to me you have to treat him like one."

Nixon grinned. "I think that's as much as I've ever heard you say at once. But seriously, Dick, Sobel considers you a threat. Watch your back around him."

"I've never done anything to him."

"You don't have to. The men hate him, and I don't think he's too worried about that, but they respect you—hell, they love you, and they'd rather follow you than him any day. He can't stand that."

Winters sighed. "You might be right. He just informed me that as a 'test of my organizational skills and command potential,' he's ordering me to be mess officer for the next fourteen days. I'm ordered to report to the mess tent at 0515, and then have breakfast ready for Easy Company at 0600 tomorrow morning."

Nixon sat up. "Jesus, Dick. In order to get that done, you may not even have time to go to bed at all!"

Winters shrugged. "I can live with that, if he's willing to take proper care of the men. If he'd just stop thinking so much about himself and his ego, and worry a little more about their welfare. You know how he is; 'This is *my* command. Under *my* command, this will be the first and finest company in this regiment.'"

Nixon chuckled. Winters was no George Luz when it came to mimicry, but he had infused enough pomposity into his tone to sound momentarily like Sobel. "I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for him to become a humanitarian, my friend."

"Yeah. I just hope he's beginning to understand that sometimes the carrot works as well as the stick. He told me to provide a special meal for them tomorrow. He wants it to be spaghetti—of course because it's what *he* likes—but at least he's making an effort."

"Maybe." Nixon was far from convinced. "Just remember what I said. Watch your back around Sobel. If there is anything he can do to make you look bad, he will."

"Orders changed! Get up!" Sobel shouted as he barged into the mess tent.

The men instantly stopped eating and stood up at attention, many of them with their mouths still full.

"Breakfast is cancelled! Easy Company is running up Currahee! Move! Move! Three miles up, three miles down! Hi-ho, Silver! Let's go! Let's go!"

While issuing the last order, Sobel, smirking, looked directly at Winters. His expression clearly indicated his hope that, as the new mess officer, Winters would be blamed by the enlisted men for this cheap trick. Sobel had obviously felt that the enlisted men would assume Winters knew they were to run Currahee as usual, and had deliberately fed them such a heavy meal beforehand. Winters, meeting his commanding officer's gaze, showed little emotion, but there was disgust in his blue eyes.

Minutes later, Sobel was following his usual brand of leadership by shouting abuse at the running, retching men of Easy Company while urging them to give up. Then a familiar voice was heard; "We pull upon the risers, we fall upon the grass…"

The men joined in the song, their spirits visibly lifting as Winters joined them, running alongside them, supporting and leading them, even though he had not been required to join them in this run.

Winters took the lead. As the men ran past him, Sobel stopped and looked after them, his expression unreadable.

Months later, at Camp Mackall, Nixon shook his head in sympathy following his best friend's account of Sobel's inadequate leadership during the war games exercise. "Well, what are you gonna do?"

"Nothin'," Winters answered. "Just keep training the men."

A new lieutenant, with short, curly red hair, appeared in the doorway. "Am I interrupting?"

Nixon glanced at the man, and then shot his best friend a quizzical look.

"No, no," Dick assured the new lieutenant. "Lieutenant Lewis Nixon, this is Lieutenant Harry Welsh…"

After introductions were completed, and Nixon's usual wisecracks made, the three men discussed the Sobel situation. Winters had just suggested, politely but firmly, that they keep such conversations between the three of them, with the other two men agreeing, when Sobel appeared in the doorway so abruptly that he seemed to have risen from the floorboards. All three lieutenants instantly snapped to attention, facing him.

Gazing at his three junior officers, Sobel's mind was dark with suspicion. Had they been plotting against him? Here was that new Lieutenant Welsh, already talking with Winters and the latter's friend, Nixon. As usual, Winters was trying to win the new man over, turn the men against him, as he always did. Did they really believe he didn't know?

While issuing his orders, Sobel made a point of eating his apple as if he was completely unworried about the conversation that had been taking place between these officers. He noted with satisfaction that there was fear in the eyes of that smart-alec Nixon, and in the eyes of that new Irish troublemaker Welsh, too. But there was not even a trace of apprehension in the gaze of Dick Winters. Those blue eyes that met his look were clear and completely calm. The man was centered so completely, it was as if nothing negative could ever touch him. Damn him! His very existence was infuriating!

Well, he still has to do what I tell him, Sobel thought. "Second Platoon ready?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then get them in formation. We're moving out."

"Yes, sir," Winters responded, and left. Welsh beat a hasty retreat, as well.

Sobel remained for a moment longer, staring at Nixon. The man was Winters' best friend. They were probably plotting together. Unfortunately, he had already deprived Nixon of a weekend pass, and the man was scheduled to report to regimental HQ to join their staff, so there was really nothing Sobel could do to him.

As he left the barracks, Sobel decided that it didn't matter what they had been talking about. I am still the commander of Easy Company, he thought. Winters will always have to take my orders. When it comes time to lead the company into combat, everyone will see who the better man is.