Disclaimer: The only things I own are the characters, and the plot line you do not recognize from HBO's Band of Brothers mini-series. I in NO WAY wish to offend the real men who served in Easy Company; the story is purely for entertainment purposes.
(See end of Chapter for Author's note)
I am lying on my bunk, filing down my nails, when Mabel comes storming into our tent.
"I am telling you Vi, the Devil himself is walking on Earth disguised as that old hag!"
"What on earth are you talking about?" I ask her, even though I am pretty sure I know what the answer will be.
She throws her hands up dramatically, "Braxton! She put me on double duty for the next two weeks, all because I was talking with this solider who stopped by supply when I was on duty!" She shouts as she frees her chestnut hair from the constraints of its bun.
"Just talking?" I wish I could say I am surprised, but I've come to find out that Braxton is known around here for her harsh discipline, so I'm not.
"Yes!" Mabel exclaims, tousling out her hair.
"Were you flirting with him Mabel?" Yet again, I already know the answer. Since I signed up, I've noticed that most Army nurses use flirting as a pastime to help the boring shifts go by faster. Mabel is no exception to the rule.
"Maybe…" The corners of her mouth crinkle upwards into a grin.
I sigh, and sit up so I am cross legged and facing Mabel. She is now sitting on the edge of her bed taking off her shoes, "Well there you go Mabel. You heard what Braxton said to us when we arrived here yesterday. She is a stickler for rules. Hell, I got chewed out yesterday for just talking to my brother when he came to see me while I was on ward duty."
Mabel lets out a disgusted whist of air, "God, when I am that old, I just hope I don't turn out like her."
"By her, you mean Braxton?"
"Yes! I would hate myself if I was that old and still in the service. Look at her Vi, she is so miserable. She gets joy out of making young women's life hell. When I am Braxton's age I want to be married, retired, and living in some nice big house where my children and grandchildren come to visit me all the time."
"She may be an old witch, but she seems to be good at her job. Why not stay in the service then? Or maybe she wanted a life like you described, but it just didn't work out? Hell, she may even have a family! We can't judge, we've only know her for two days Mabel." I suggest, feeling a little sympathetic for Braxton, although I don't know why… Maybe it's because I kind of relate to Braxton.
For as long as I could remember, I haven't really been what you'd consider as "normal" for a woman in today's society. The standard mold for a typical Italian daughter is what my folks expected for me. Ma and Pa wished desperately that I would have found some Catholic man to marry, preferably not Irish, and start popping children before I even hit twenty. Enrolling in nursing school was definitely not in their equation… Yet, here I am, twenty-four, very single, and in the flipping Army!
"Who knows…?" Mabel replies as she picks underneath her finger nails with her thumbnail, "I should be mad at you too! You're the reason I was in supply in the first place!" She changes the subject with a slight glare in my direction.
I let out an amused laugh and continue filing down my nails. "Oh, so you're the one who got stuck with my duty!"
"Yes I am! What did the Witch of the West want with you anyways?"
I put down my nail file down onto my lap, and hold my hands up close to my face so I can examine the length of my nails, "Special duty."
"Huh?" Mabel's upper lip curls upward in confusion.
I put my hands down onto my lap, satisfied with my manicure, "Braxton wants me to assist Dr. Yates in training the medic's for the 506th."
Mabel bursts out laughing. After her fit of giggles subsides she exclaims, "Good luck with that one! I sure wouldn't want to be you. The doctor seems like a bit of a ninny if you ask me. Did she say why she chose you?"
"She said it was because of the history I had working trauma back in civilian life." I tell her truthfully.
"That makes sense. You never did work in any other department than emergency, huh?" Mabel asks.
I shake my head.
"I think regular duty from Braxton would be all I could handle. You are lucky though, you get to interact with some of the men!" Mabel replies as she gets up off her bunk and walks over to the mirror beside her bed. She straightens out her white service dress, and then contorts her body so she can see her backside. I see her grey eyes narrow with scrutiny. "I really don't have an ass do I?"
"We are not having this conversation again, Mabel!" Before I can continue on about how I don't want to spend the next few hours of my life listening to Mabel babble on about how she has always been slim as a twig, a knock comes from the door.
"Enter." Mabel hollers out, her tone conveying how irritated she is by the interruption.
A familiar voice on the other side of the door announces. "Hope you're decent in there ladies."
Instantly knowing who it is, and I get up off of my bunk to stand with my arms crossed. "Get your ass in here already, Bill."
The door opens, and my baby brother steps into mine and Mabel's domain. He is wearing his PT gear and drenched in sweat. The stench of his body odor rapidly overtakes the tent, causing my eyes water.
"Christ, Bill, you look like a drowned rat, and smell even worse than you look." I greet Bill in our custom derisive fashion.
"Well, that tends to happen when you run up and down a mountain in ninety degree weather." Bill grins despite his apparent exhaustion, "Em' bags under your eyes don't make you look like Rita Hayworth either."
I roll my eyes and let out an unamused huff. Before I explain that I only got two hours of sleep, Mabel very blatantly clears her throat. I take it as my cue to introduce the two, "Mabel, this smelly ignoramus is my brother, Bill. Bill, this is Mabel."
"Nice to meet you, Mabel," Bill acknowledges Mabel, then turns his attentions towards me, "I ain't coming here to chew the fat with you ladies. I just wanted to let you know that my CO revoked my company's weekend passes, so, we will have to postpone going out for drinks Vi."
"Alright, we'll try for next weekend then." I reply, trying to act surprised. I am genuinely discouraged though, I was looking forward to being able to catch up with Bill.
Bill hears the disappointment in my voice and starts to walk towards me, his arms outstretched and ready for a hug. I take a large step backwards, and hold a fist in the air. "Don't you dare, William Guarnere! I showered a few hours ago, and I will not walk around the rest of the day smelling like hog!"
Bill slowly lowers his arms as that jackal grin of his forms on his lips. "Okay, but just this once! Next time I'll get cha' Vi. Now if you excuse me ladies, I better go shower before it's time for chow."
As he turns to leave, I suddenly remember I didn't tell him where my quarters are. "Hey, wait a second, how did you know this was my tent?"
"Asked some orderly in the hospital," Bill shrugs.
"Make sure my CO doesn't see you when you leave." I reply sternly.
"Yeah, she may have us tarred and feathered." Mabel interjects, still clearly fuming about the extra duty Braxton dumped on her.
Bill lets out an amused laugh and opens the door to leave. As Bill is exiting our tent I call out, "Goodbye."
Bill waves a hand behind him and mutters jokingly, "Yeah, yeah."
"Well he seems charming." Mabel says after a few moments.
I can't tell if she is being serious or not, so I look her square in the eye and say dryly, "Bill has as much charm as the Tasmanian Devil."
"Are you two always like that?"
"Like what?"
"Do you two always converse so crudely?" Mabel asks. The childlike look of inquiry on Mabel's face is so amusing I can't help but to bust out laughing.
"What is so funny? It was an honest question Viola!" Her mouth is gaping open in outrage.
"Mabel, you come from a small, upper class, family from Boston. Am I right?" I figure I might as well expand her knowledge further on the Guarnere family dynamic.
"Yes." Mabel replies raising her eyebrows, unsure as to where I am heading with this.
"I am sure you were raised to address your family cordially, in a docile traditional fashion." Mabel's signals for me to continue on with a slow nod, "Well, you see, I come from an average, large, Italian family from South Philly. The way my family communicates ninety percent of the time is through raised voices, flailing hands and arms, and very expressive word choices. Take mealtimes for instance, there were so many of us at the table chattering away in a mixture of Italian and English, you had to yell at the person across from you three times just to get them pass the butter."
"At my house we signaled for a servant to bring butter to us..." Mabel states matter of fact, and widens her eyes.
"You see, being overly obnoxious and crude is just how Bill and I communicate. When we are truly upset with one another you will know."
"Like yesterday when arrived on base?"
"Exactly," I nod.
Mabel's eyes soften with satisfaction; much in the way a toddler's would when they receive an answer to a question. She then returns to her old position in front of the mirror. Instead of scrutinizing her backside, she is redoing her mid-length hair back into a regulation bun.
Sometimes I wonder how we even ended up friends. It was a year ago already since Mabel walked into that barrack at Fort Dix with one of the most petrified looks I have ever seen on her face. She was probably wondering what the hell she had signed herself up for. I was kind of thinking that myself, to be honest. Mabel appeared as lost as a Texan rancher wondering the streets of Philly, so I motioned for her to come over and claim the bunk above mine. We exchanged formalities, talked about how we were both new to the Nursing Corps and were looking for a new start. Later that day, when we were off duty, we went out for drinks together, which sealed the deal.
After that, the rest is history. We have been as close as friends can be ever since.
I don't know what made me approach her that day. I am definitely not the type of person to initiate conversation with strangers. If I had to guess though, it would be the sense of adventure that emanates from Mabel, as though her whole being is ready to run at a moment's notice.
"What time is it?" Mabel asks while placing a final bobby pin into her hair.
I look at the clock on our small dresser, "16:26 hours."
"Of course it is." Mabel mutters to herself. Satisfied with her hair, she turns to face me. "I have to go on duty again at 17:30. Dumb Braxton and her double duty."
"I am assuming you want to go for an early supper then?" I ask, probably reading Mabel's mind.
"Bingo."
"Well, I am sure by the time we make trek across field to the Mess hall; they will be ready to serve."
"What are we waiting for then?!" Mabel motions eagerly to the door with her hand.
"This twelve mile march better not become a habit of Sobel's." Frank Perconte said to no one in particular. He was pissed that he was stuck marching in the dark with a full pack on Friday night.
Smokey slapped at a mosquito on his neck as he turned to Perconte on his left. "This wouldn't be so bad if we would be able to go out tomorrow night, but no. You had to go rip off Liebgott's head for using up the last of your toothpaste."
"Hey, my Ma' taught me that dental hygiene is very important." Perconte justified himself, "Besides, no good looking broad fancies a man with browned, tobacco ridden teeth." He jabbed at Smokey's obsessive habit of chewing tobacco.
"Whatever." Smokey was too irritated by the mosquitos attacking his flesh to continue arguing. He didn't feel so rotten, however, when he noticed that Eugene Roe was just as miserable beside him.
"Damn it." Eugene muttered as he slapped his cheek. He looked at his hand to find a rather hefty mosquito plastered to his palm. Disgusted, he wiped his hand on his pant leg. Eugene really wouldn't have minded the march if it wasn't for the relentless mosquitos. Walking was far more pleasant than charging up a mountain in the heat. As Eugene walked on, he listened to his comrades' gripe about the insects and Sobel, and he felt a heavy weight accumulate in his chest - he would be responsible for saving these men's lives one day.
Why him… Why the hell did the brass pick him to carry such a big responsibility?
As Eugene pondered the question, the sound of the other men's voices seemed to fade into a dull hum. He didn't even notice when a mosquito landed on his neck by the base of his skull. It was only when somebody slapped his neck from behind so hard that he jolted forward, almost collided with Muck, which made Eugene snap back to reality.
Highly irritated by the invasion of his personal space, Eugene craned his neck to see that it was George Luz who was behind him. Luz was holding his hand out with a boyish look of amusement spread across his face.
"Look at that big son of a bitch Eugene. I couldn't just let him suck out all your blood! We need to keep you around now that you are going be a medic."
"Thanks…" Eugene muttered as he turned back around. He was becoming increasingly agitated that since the afternoon, all anybody spoke to him about was that he is to be a medic.
"Eh' Eugene, what were you and that nurse talking about before Currahee this afternoon?" Luz asked in a jovial tone.
At the mention of Viola, Eugene felt his cheeks heat up. If worries about his new position weren't plaguing his mind, he was thinking about how much of a dumbass he must have looked like to Viola.
Mowing somebody down like a Sherman tank is embarrassing enough, but to mow down a woman, and a good looking one too, is a whole other level of embarrassment. During the lecture he felt like a schoolboy because he couldn't stop staring at her. Then, when he saw her approaching him after the lecture, Eugene froze like an ancient Greek statue. He thought for sure that Viola was coming over to yell at him that he broke her toe or something. He was astounded when she asked him for a lite instead. Then he had the bright idea of asking for her name. She probably didn't tell him because she didn't want him to know!
It excited Eugene that through his training he may be able to get to know this nurse better, but who was he kidding? He was almost certain that Viola thought he was just some bumbling idiot, so why bother?
"Nothing, just asked me for a lite." Eugene answered Luz without turning to face him.
"Just a lite huh?" Luz sounded like he did not believe Eugene's answer.
"Just a lite," Eugene repeated himself as he killed another mosquito on his cheek.
"Well, if I were you, I'd stay away from that one." Luz said.
Those words made Eugene crane his neck once more to shoot a glare at Luz. It was absolutely none of George Luz's business about who Eugene talked to during a day.
After Eugene faced forward Luz said, "We'll just have a little chat with Malarky once we are back in the barracks and you'll see what I am talking about."
When the men from Easy Company filed into the barrack they looked far from presentable. Every man sported at least ten swollen mosquito bites on their face or neck. Sweat stained their uniforms basically from top to bottom, and a few men were limping from blisters or strained ankles.
Eugene was never happier to see his rigid, highly un-comfy, Army issue cot in his life. His neck itched immensely from all the bug bites, and his feet were so sore he just about lost feeling in them. When he sat down on his bunk he felt as if he were melting. Sadly, the blissful moment was cut short by the sound of Luz's voice from three bunks to the left.
"Hey Malarky, tell Eugene here why he shouldn't fraternize with Guarnere's sister."
Eugene's head shot up like a gopher. He thought he must have cotton in his ears. Luz could not have possibly saidthat Viola was Guarnere's sister.
"Oh Jesus Eugene, you really don't want to go that road." Malarky said as he sat down on his bunk across the aisle from Eugene's. "I made a comment about her when she first arrived, and then ole' Gonorrhea went ahead and just about wrung my neck!"
"Yes you better stay clear of that one, Eugene." Muck put in his two cents.
"Guarnere announced that he would snap any man who tried for his sister in half like a twig." Malarky stated with a nod.
"Jesus, Gonorrhea has a sister here?" Perconte interjected as he walked through the conversation.
"Sure does." Muck answered as he lit himself a smoke.
"Now do you understand, Eugene, that unless you wish to end up in a full body cast, you should stay away from that nurse?" Luz said as he caught a pack of smokes that came flying from across the aisle.
"Hey, I have an idea. How about we all just shut up and go to bed." Johnny Martin yelled out loud enough for the entire barrack to stop talking for a moment. But then the men continued on with their conversations as if nothing happened.
After Eugene shed his dirty uniform and was in his undershirt and shorts, he crawled under the covers. He was very irritated and slightly embarrassed by the men's harassment. Maybe the men were lying and just rousing him for the hell of it. But if they were, why would they say that Viola is the sister to one of the toughest, loud mouthed men in the company?
Eugene couldn't recall if Dr. Yates introduced Viola or not to the class... After a few moments exhaustion settled in, and the only coherent thought he had was the fuzzy warm feeling he felt in his chest when his and Viola's eyes locked.
Johnny Martin was very on edge as he stood in line for his Saturday morning breakfast. He wished that he was back home in Philly where his wife at that moment, would be serving him toast, ham, and a two poached eggs in bed while she wore that white lace nightdress that drove him so crazy. But no, he was dead dog tired, stuck in a slow moving line of loud mouthed, smelly soldiers, waiting for slop. When he finally was served, he grabbed a cup of coffee, spotted where Bill Guarnere was sitting, and headed towards him.
"Seriously, what the hell is this shit?" Martin demanded as he sat down across from Guarnere at a table.
Guarnere stirred his ripe smelling porridge with his spoon, "Looks like something I threw up once after a night drinking."
Bill's all to correct analogy turned Martin's appetite off completely. He grabbed a piece of toast and his cup of coffee off his tray, and then pushed it to the side. He stared longingly at his coffee as if it would magically somehow give him the hours of sleep he was lacking.
"Why so tired Johnny?" Bill asked, noticing the zombie like stature of the man across from him.
"People wouldn't shut their fucking yaps last night after Luz announced that you have a sister on base. Each man had to ask the guy beside him, did he say Guarnere's sister?! It was like fucking girls at a sleepover."
The harsh clanging of Bill dropping his spoon onto the metal tray caused Martin look up from his coffee. He was surprised to see Bill's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in thought. He could tell that Bill was getting all wound up, the way he does.
"What brought up the subject?" Bill asked, trying to remain calm.
"I don't know. It was something about that how somebody from Easy should stay away from her. I didn't catch the name. How long she been here Bill?"
"A few days…" Bill muttered. He felt himself being overtaken by the need to protect Viola from the stupid shmucks in the company. Apparently, threating a few men and hoping the word would spread didn't work. He would have to make a bigger, bolder statement about the topic to show that he was serious. He felt like hopping up onto the table right then and there, but as Guarnere scanned the crowded Mess hall, he decided that the time wasn't right; there were too many officer's present.
Author's Note: Hello there. Sorry this took so long to get out! Thank you for the follows on my story! Please review! I really enjoy feedback good or bad.
I know it seems like it is going kind of slowly, but all my stories start off kind of slow so please bear with me!
A huge thanks to orchids117 for smoothing out the chapter! :)