Sure enough, they spent two weeks in Shanks without a furlough or a weekend pass.
The S.S Samaria, was a large ship sitting neatly at the Brooklyn harbour. A slap in Murphy's face, if she was being honest. She had taken a lot of punches to the face, this one was the toughest. Her family could have been right there, and she wasn't allowed to go and see. So, she walked on the gangplank, wedged between Easy and almost getting shoved in the water. Seemed everyone was in some kind of rush.
Finally, on the ship now, they all headed down towards the belly of the ship, the lowest part of the ship; the shittiest part of the ship. The entire 101st Airborne were being forced down here, bunking in hammocks, five pilled on top of each other, two on either side. There wasn't enough room to walk, shoulders were constantly bumping into one another, while they all claimed a spot but as it turned out, there wasn't enough hammocks to go around, so it was two to a hammock.
They were sleeping it rough.
They all headed up to the deck, wanting to see this ship leave the dock.
Someone grabbed her shoulder, forcing Murphy to the front of the railings. She stepped up onto the first two bars, so she could see better. Civilians had gathered down at the dock, they were waving little flags, the women were blowing them all kisses, and kids were grinning from ear to ear, while they waved each of them off.
It was nice but even nicer when the sun started to sink behind the Statue of Liberty, while the ship moved slowly away from the dock. The mood was strange, they were leaving home and about to embark on a very dangerous adventure to Europe.
Murphy wobbled a little, when the ship bumped against the dock.
Hands grabbed her waist, steadying her.
"Careful".
She smiled a little, "thanks, Sarge".
Lipton kept his hands there.
And eventually, they all moved back down to the belly of the ship.
This was going to be a long twelve days.
The first few days were fine.
Sobel had tried to run a PT session but there wasn't enough room and after an hour of trying, he gave up and left his men alone. The only way to pass the time was by playing craps, card games, writing letters or shooting the shit. Of course, you could always start a fight. Which happened all too often down in the belly of the ship. Mostly, it was a few guys from Easy and some from another Company but then, they started to turn on each other.
And it started out innocently enough.
"I'm glad I'm going to Europe". Toye was saying, while playing with his knife. "Hitler get's one of these across his windpipe, Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life".
"What if we don't get to Europe? What if they send us to North Africa?" Smokey said from the top hammock.
"My brothers in North Africa; say's it's hot". Guarnere commented.
"Really? It's hot in Africa?" Malarkey remarked sarcastically from behind him.
"Shut up". He shot back, "point is, it don't matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself and the fellow next to you".
"Hey, long as he or she's a paratrooper". Toye added quietly.
"Oh, yeah?" Luz heaved, while he climbed up to his hammock. "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?"
"If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving down the line. Hook up with some other officer, like Heyliger or Winters". Christenson said.
"I like Winters". Guarnere nodded, "he's a good man. But when the bullets start flying, I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me".
That's when things started to change.
"How do you know he's a Quaker?" Muck asked.
Guarnere got onto his feet, "he ain't a Catholic".
"Neither is Sobel". Malarkey pointed out.
He took a drag from his cigarette, "that pricks a son of Abraham".
And that caught Liebgott's attention, "he's what?"
Guarnere looked up from the ground, where he had stubbed out his cigarette. "He's a Jew".
"Oh, fuck". Liebgott grinned, without humour and jumped down from the hammock. Then, he walked right up to Guarnere's face, "I'm a Jew".
"Congratulations". He said, pushing Liebgott back. "Get your nose 'outta my face".
Liebgott was pushed a few steps back and then, he took a swing at Guarnere, who blocked his punch. Soon, they were pulling them back off each other, while they tried to grab at each other, prepared to fight because it was too dam hot down there, they didn't have enough space to move and everyone was sick and tired of being up each other's asses.
A great weight was soon sat next to her.
Murphy looked up and saw Liebgott, who was still breathing heavily.
Clearing her throat, she looked between the two of them.
"What's at the bottom of the ocean and shivers?"
"What?" Liebgott hissed, pulling an irritated face her way.
She shrugged one shoulder up to her neck, "a nervous wreck".
Guarnere slowly closed his eyes and shook his head, "Jesus Christ".
Bloser laughed, "that was fucking terrible".
"I know". She agreed, "I'm bad at jokes".
"Then don't tell one". Liebgott muttered.
Murphy looked up at him, "alright…best be calming down now, eh?" She said to him quietly.
He took in another deep breath and looked down towards his hands. "Right".
"Besides, I don't care".
"Huh?"
Murphy shrugged, "I don't care what you are, Joe. So long as you're not an arse".
His lips twitched at that, "quit it".
"What's that?"
Liebgott was smiling now, "I don't 'wanna be cheered-up, Murph".
To get away from the hot temperatures below, Murphy would sneak up onto the deck after hours, just to get some peace. She liked the guys but sometimes, they were too loud. And besides, a few of them were starting to get sick because of the rocking ship. They had come under some harsh waves that day and if Murphy heard one more retch, she'd surely get sick herself. After rubbing a few backs and rushing to get Gene, Murphy decided to take a little break and leave the bottom once everyone started to settle down for the night.
But she wasn't alone.
Murphy was leaning against the railings, staring out to open and dark water. They were just a little ship compared to the size of the ocean. And Murphy felt a tiny twinge, right in her chest. Because she felt like a tiny part of something, fighting in an all man's world.
What the fuck am I doing? She thought, shaking her head.
"Are you talking to yourself?"
"No". Murphy said quietly, with a ghost of a smile.
Lipton stood beside her, resting a hand on the railing. "You snuck out".
"I did".
He tilted his head, "I noticed you this time".
She looked up at him, "yeah?"
Smiling small, Lipton nodded and faced the ocean.
Murphy continued to stare at him. "What are you leaving, Sarge?"
His eyebrows pulled together, "Huntington, West Virginia – you?"
She sighed quietly, "I have no idea".
Lipton looked back at her.
Murphy straightened herself up, back growing sore from her hunched position.
"Oldest too, huh?" Lipton guessed softly.
"Three younger brothers". She confirmed quietly.
"I thought that". He said, "you're good with the guys – you know, for a girl".
Murphy smiled with a tiny laugh, "thanks".
He cleared his throat, "young woman". Lipton corrected, "your parents must be proud".
She shrugged, "maybe". Murphy said, "ma is, 'da's indifferent".
"Mom was the same as your dad". Lipton spoke so quietly, that Murphy almost didn't hear him right away. "Suppose she wanted me to stick around for a while longer".
She tilted her head to the side; wanting him to go on.
"Suppose I took the role as the man of the family at a young age".
Murphy nodded slightly.
Lipton sighed, "I – uh – I don't think about them much".
"Me neither". She admitted quietly, "it's fine, Sarge".
"I know". He nodded, with a small snort of amusement. "You avoided every letter".
"I did". Murphy said, "didn't 'wanna get homesick and leave".
"Smart choice". Lipton praised softly.
Blinking, Murphy looked back out towards the ocean.
A crack of a smile soon made its way to his face, "I'm glad you're not sparring anymore".
She opened her mouth to say something, then quickly closed it.
Lipton shrugged, "it's hard watching you get punched in the face, Murph".
Soon, she smiled. "Right".
He looked away from the side of her face and followed her gaze towards the water. Lipton looked up, the sky was clear, and the stars were out, though the waves still rocked the ship. But it was the moon, which was so round and large tonight. And the beams reflected onto the water.
It was a beautiful scene.
No wonder Murphy came up to the deck.
And Lipton had to leave much sooner than he wanted. Murphy stayed and he allowed it.
Murphy wasn't sure what she was trying find in the water, she just wanted an answer.
Where was her family?
…
Day seven on the ship of hell.
Men were getting restless, fish chowder re-appeared hours after digestion.
It wasn't pleasant.
Murphy had done well in not getting sick. She was used to the rough seas, thanks to her journey across the Atlantic before. Bloser was the next to succumb to the dreaded sickness. His head was in a bucket, Murphy was by his side, rubbing his back and trying to lighten his dampened mood. She told a few more horrendous jokes and he laughed into the bucket.
"You're making me feel sicker, you looney".
Murphy grinned, "just tell me to stop, pally".
She yawned softly into her hand.
When was the last time she slept for eight solid hours?
"Oh, is this boring you?" Bloser teased.
"Yup". She remarked back, "think you can manage some water now?"
He lifted his head from the bucket and nodded, "let's give it a go".
The water stayed down, Murphy put the bucket down and saw to it that Bloser was getting into the hammock. She placed a hand on his forehead, not sure why but it was something she did for Noah whenever he got sick. Bloser snorted and closed his eyes.
"Such a girl, Murph".
Smirking, Murphy squeezed his shoulder. "Night, pally".
"Night, Murph".
Murphy sat with him until he fell into a deep sleep. Picking up the bucket, she moved down the narrow strip and headed for the latrines. God, if they could be even classes as latrines. They needed a serious cleaning. Because the ship was so rocky, the men's aiming wasn't up to scratch. Murphy had to wipe a lot of fuckin seats.
She poured the contents from the bucket into the toilet, stomach churning.
With a shudder, Murphy quickly flushed the toilet and got out of the stall.
If there was one thing, she hated the most, it was vomit.
She didn't mind the sight or smell but getting sick herself, that was a different kettle of fish.
Murphy was terrible at being sick. She panicked, which resulted in a huge mess. It was a good thing she had kept her stomach on the okay side of things. But after that, Murphy could feel the contents swish around in her stomach.
Placing her hands on the sink, she leaned into it.
Murphy took in a deep breath and turned on the taps. Running water, who would have thought that eased her panic. They were on a ship, it made no sense, but it made perfect sense to her.
Everyone has a fear. Spiders, the dark, heights. Hers was just embarrassing, she felt.
The spaghetti incident almost broke her. She dodged a bullet there. A big fucking bullet.
Murphy would have rather been knocked out than have to deal with this.
In fact, she'd rather run up Currahee eight times.
Anything. She'd do anything than have to deal with this.
Murphy took in another breath, while her heart hammered against her chest. Her hands were growing sweaty and her knees were practically bashing against each other, from her trembling body. If anyone saw her now, she'd be out of the airborne.
Letting go of the sink, she cupped the water in her hands and splashed it onto her face.
Murphy turned off the taps and made her way back to Easy.
She got back into the hammock with Bloser, resting her head by his feet; which stunk. Murphy's nose twitched at the scent and she closed her eyes, trying to find sleep.
Murphy didn't get sick.
She had dodged another bullet.
Now, it was day eight on this ship and Murphy wanted to get off.
For the whole day, Murphy dedicated her time on the hammock.
She didn't touch the food and stayed well hydrated. No one forced her to eat, everyone was sick of fish chowder. And seeing it in buckets and in the latrines, was enough to put you off food forever. They figured Murphy was starting to feel the effects from being on the ship and left her alone most of the day. Bloser played cards with her, they talked about England and eventually, it was night time.
Murphy opened the door and stepped onto the deck.
Winters was there, leaning against the railings.
She could have left but the door closed, revealing her position.
He smiled small, "evening, Corporal".
"Evening, sir". Murphy whispered.
After a few moments, she walked over and stood beside him.
It was chilly that night, Murphy should have remembered her jacket. She just expected it to be mild, like most summer nights. She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes wondering over the water, while the ship gently rocked against the small bumps.
Something was soon placed on her shoulders.
Murphy blinked. Oh, it was his jacket. Smiling a little shyly, she pulled the ends and covered herself. "Thank you, sir".
"Can't watch you freeze, Murphy". Winters told her softly.
She wanted to lean into his side. For whatever reason. It was an urge. Maybe because he was always so nice to everyone. Or, maybe it was something else. Murphy couldn't, she refused to believe it might have been something else. Because it would only break her in the end. Winters was too good for an Irish immigrant. He was an officer, her Platoon leader.
But he was handsome. With an inviting smile, which carried the right amount of charm.
Would he have placed his jacket over another one of his troopers?
"It's another beautiful night".
Murphy was soon pulled from her thoughts, "it is, sir".
"How cold do you think that water is?" Winters wondered quietly.
"Um – I'm not sure, sir". She then smiled, "I'm not willing to find out".
He chuckled, though it was never too loud.
Murphy wondered what he thought of her.
"Are you excited to see England?"
He was asking a lot of questions tonight.
Murphy cleared her throat, "I am, sir". She replied, "more so to get off the ship".
Winters smiled, "I've always wanted to travel to England. Maybe see some of Scotland".
"Scotland, sir?"
"Yeah". He said lightly, "quite fancy seeing Edinburgh".
Murphy pursed her lips together, hiding the amusement. God, she loved it when the Americans pronounced the capital of Scotland. The Irish were so-so, but the Americans did it for her.
"Something funny, Corporal?"
She frowned a little and looked up. Oh, he had been staring at her the whole time. And Murphy suddenly felt foggy because their eyes were locking into each other. "No, sir". She whispered, breathlessly. "No – nothing funny".
Winters eyes were soft but there was a slight edge to them this time. But it wasn't anger, it was something else. Something she had never seen before.
"Sorry".
"Why?" He whispered.
Murphy shook her head, "I have no idea, sir".
When the door opened, she jumped.
"There you are – Corporal".
It was Nixon.
And their eye contact broke.
Murphy swallowed and shimmied the jacket from her shoulders, handing it back to Winters. She gave him a small smile, "night, sir".
He took the jacket in his hands, staring at it for a moment. "Goodnight, Murphy".
When the door closed, Nixon pulled an amused face. "That was strange".
Clearing his throat, Winters looked up from his jacket. "Something you needed, Lew?"
"Yeah – transports secured for docking at Liverpool. Should arrived on day twelve, as planned".
"Good". He nodded, while putting his jacket back on.
Crossing his arms, Nixon stared at his friend.
Winters sniffed, looking back at him. "What?"
He shook his head slowly, "you tell me, Dick".
"What'd you mean?"
Nixon shrugged, "you like our Corporal, or something?"
He stilled, while zipping the jacket up. "She's – she's a good Corporal".
"Huh-uh".
Winters nodded, continuing with zipping up his jacket.
Nixon smiled a little, "let's head in".
His features softened, when he caught her scent on his jacket. Winters smiled, following Nixon back inside the ship. Was he losing his mind?
He wasn't the only one having a similar dilemma.
God, she felt like such an idiot.
Murphy needed to stop thinking about the jacket. It was just a kind gesture.
He was being a gentleman. Because he was one and she was a female.
Of course, he'd offer his jacket to a young woman, who looked cold.
This ship was driving her mad. Too much sea air, not enough land.
When she reached the belly of the ship, Murphy was making her way to Easy.
She ended up bumping into an already pissed off trooper from Dog Company.
He sighed, roughly pushing her. Murphy fell back and fell into a hammock.
"Watch where you're fucking going!"
Sighing, Murphy got up. "Right – sorry".
That guy wasn't impressed and ended up prodding her shoulder. "Did you just sigh at me?"
She looked up at him, "I did, yeah". Murphy mumbled. "Is it that bad?"
"Yeah – it is".
Murphy really wasn't up for a fight. They weren't in a ring and she didn't have gloves.
He shoved her again.
Fuck it. She thought. Murphy straightened herself out and punched him.
He was a little surprised, it came so suddenly. And the fist collided into his cheek.
Murphy took a small step back, watching him carefully.
He spat out some blood on the ground. "You're fucking dead".
She nodded, "yeah, probably".
A small crowd from Dog gathered around them, egging their fellow buddy on.
He took swings, she avoided them.
She took another swing and smacked him in the face.
It was like being in the ring again, but her knuckles were spent.
When he did get her, it was where she had lost part of her tooth and the filling popped out. Murphy pulled a face, "ah – now I've got to get that re-filled". She mumbled.
He didn't find it funny and punched her under the eye.
Murphy's eyes watered a little. That was a sore one.
"Get 'em, Steve!"
And then, finally, some of the guys from Easy started to notice.
"Aw for fuck – Murph!" Guarnere was pissed. He stood between them, "get the hell away from him, what the fuck are you doing?!"
She shrugged, "he wanted a fight".
Grabbing her shoulder, Guarnere moved her away from the circle. "Fights over!"
"Hey!" Steve yelled, "you got some right-hook!"
Murphy turned to face him again, "I need a dentist. You're an arse".
To her surprise, Steve laughed.
Shaking her head, with a tiny grin, Murphy allowed Guarnere to lead her back.
"Sit". He ordered, "doc! Make sure she hasn't broken her fucking hands!"
Her hands weren't broken but the next day, her tooth hurt like hell and there was a bruise under her eye. Murphy rubbed the side of her cheek, shaking her head.
"I need a dentist".
Bloser sighed, "he won't have his tools, Murph".
Murphy's face scrunched up in pain, "this hurts a lot".
And they did feel bad for her, she didn't start the fight, after all.
As it turned out, the regimental dentist did have his tools and he wasn't happy about seeing Murphy again. He led her a few floors up and into the sickbay. Murphy sat down on the bed, still rubbing her cheek. The dentist told her to lie down, while he brought out his large numbing needle.
"Short scratch".
Murphy opened her mouth. The relief from not feeling the pain made her sigh.
"Better?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
She gave him the thumbs up. Though it was sore on her hands. Her knuckles were bruised and cut from giving out hard punches without the protection of gloves.
"This is the last time, Corporal".
She nodded, "okay".
Well, at least day ten was passing by.
Later on, mouth not so numb anymore, Murphy was sitting on her hammock and playing cards with Bloser, Toye and Guarnere. Winters soon showed up, not looking very happy.
"A word, Corporal Flynn".
Murphy put down her hand of cards and got up.
Winters placed a hand on her shoulder, leading her up a level.
She rubbed her lips, trying to think of what to say.
Though, when Winters saw her bruise, his face softened. "Is it sore?" He asked, reaching out and placing a hand on the side of her face, examining the bruise closely.
Murphy's whole body stilled. Though her insides were going crazy.
"Did you put ice on it?"
She gave her head a tiny shake, "no, sir".
Sighing, Winters dropped his hand. "What happened?"
Murphy reached up and placed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I lost my-"
"your hands, Murphy". He whispered, gently taking her hand into his. "Have you had them looked at?"
"Yeah". Murphy croaked, "yes, sir".
Winters's eyes flickered towards her, "they're okay?"
She nodded.
"Alright". He let go of her hand.
It suddenly felt cold without his to hold. Murphy swallowed. "Sorry, sir".
Winters shook his head, "I was just worried".
She tilted her head to the side.
He cleared his throat, "and you – you saw a dentist?"
"I did, sir". Murphy told him softly, "tooth is filled".
He cracked a small smile, "good to hear".
And she smiled back at him, "it is, sir".
There was a moment of silence, but it wasn't awkward, or tense. It was blissful. Their eyes locked together, like they were having their own conversation. Only, Murphy didn't know what they were telling each other. It was hard to see what he was thinking. But she adored his eyes. She couldn't quite work out if they were blue or green. It was hard to tell. She could have sworn they were blue in the light. They weren't blue like hers, Winters were paler. Softer. Kinder.
This was wrong.
But why didn't it feel that way?
Murphy didn't know who broke the eye contact first.
Did hours pass? Minutes? She had no idea.
"No more fights, Murphy". Winters told her, quietly.
"No more, sir". She promised.
Though, she would get into so much more, if it meant he'd hold her hand again.
…
Day eleven. By far, the longest day.
They were on their last stretch of the journey.
Tomorrow, they'd finally reach land.
Murphy, like the rest, couldn't wait to stand on stable ground again and she couldn't wait to stretch her arms out without hitting someone. But the journey wasn't so bad. Not bad at all.
Thanks to a certain someone.
Just a small peak inside heaven, that's the way Murphy saw it. Fantasies, ever growing strong. And flickering moments of what could be. Though torture, she'd smile at them. Because they were perfect. In her mind, they could live out the war together and they could conquer all, together.
Hand in hand.
"Sorry".
Murphy shook her head, "it's fine".
Gene finished bandaging up her hands. "Keep those on for a few days, Flynn".
"Right". She whispered, raising her hand to view the bandage wrapped around it.
"That should save it from infection". He said, "no more punching".
Murphy smiled a little, "alright, Gene".
"Nice gloves". Bloser commented with humour, "you did a good job, doc".
Gene smiled in light amusement, "thank you, Bloser".
Murphy jumped down from the hammock.
Now what?
Well, Private Vest had orders to give out the letters handed to him before they departed from Brooklyn. This was the perfect time, it would boost the morale for everyone. However, it was taking him a while to locate a "Corporal Flynn".
Murphy had noticed the guy walk up and down the strip.
"Corporal Flynn!"
She got up sharply, "me – here!"
Sighing, Vest grinned. "Shit, sorry, Murphy. Couldn't find you".
Shaking her head, Murphy took the letter from him. "It's fine…thanks, Vest".
Murphy ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter.
Her eyes danced through each word.
And when she finished. Murphy sat heavily on the hammock.
Bloser frowned, looking her way. She was sitting so still, Murphy might have disappeared. And instead of asking what was wrong, he simply took the letter from her hands and read over it.
"Shit". He whispered, tearing his eyes away from the page. "Come on, let's go".
Soon, the two of them were out on the deck.
Murphy was leaning on the railings, head tucked between her arms. Bloser had a hand on her back, while he stared out towards the ocean. It wasn't the sort of news she was hoping for. And what made it worse, she couldn't go to them.
"What's Polio anyway?" She mumbled into her hands, "why's Noah got it?"
"I don't know, Murphy". He whispered softly.
Raising her head, she let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead.
Bloser watched her carefully.
"It's just shit". She said, "if they had told me, I'd-"
"Murph". He cut her off softly, "there's nothing you could have done".
Chewing the inside of her mouth, Murphy eventually nodded.
"They're in Limerick". Bloser reminded her quietly, "you wanted that, right?"
She nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You got one good thing, Murph". He said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Focus on that".
Exhaling shakily, Murphy looked up towards the sky. "Right".
Noah was alive.
He just wouldn't be for long.
It was so hard not to fall apart. But if she did, Murphy didn't stand a chance.
She'd never piece herself back together.
The door closed, Winters walked onto the deck.
Clearing his throat, Bloser let go of her shoulders. "I'll see you down there, Murph".
Winters was staring at her, it was obvious something was wrong.
"Sir". Bloser addressed, while moving passed him.
Staying quiet, he made his way over to her.
Murphy rubbed her lips together and her eyes opened, when something was placed on her shoulders. The jacket. Swallowing, she grabbed onto the sides, pulling it closer to her, like an embrace. She closed her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath.
Winters eyes fell into a soft sadness. He stepped, closing the distance between them. And he placed a quiet hand on the side of her face, gently bringing her head to meet his eyes. And when her eyes opened, Winters felt like the breath had been knocked out of him – just like when he first noticed her during that march to Atlanta.
She didn't know why he was here. She was just glad he was.
And like last time, their eyes held a conversation.
Only this time, Winters didn't remove his hand from the side of her face.
Winters didn't like the broken look in her eyes. He wanted to make it vanish.
What he wouldn't give to see her smile again, and he had only just saw it yesterday.
But he missed it already.
And though Murphy felt her chest squeeze, she wouldn't break.
Because he was holding her together. Just with his hand.
What a journey it had been across the Atlantic.
Murphy wondered what England would offer her.
