Hey! I graduated High School! So I'm just working a lot but now I really want to take time to write. I miss it so much, I miss the creativity. So, you know how Facebook has the thing that tells you what you posted so many years ago? Well on today, I decided to post this original story way back in 2012. Today is the anniversary of my grandmother's death, and it's a hard day. She passed in 2010, and still in 2012 I was still grieving horribly. I used to write to have something to look forward to, and school made it a chore. Anyway, I'm excited to be back at it. This is a bit of a filler chapter, to help me get a feel for all the characters and the setting of Toccoa again.

If you've stuck around- I adore you.

~Chapter Six: First Peace~

She awoke, easily, as if she had never really fallen asleep. It had been the kind of sleep that was really a rest, the kind you don't remember when you fell asleep- or if you ever really did. And empty sleep, a sleep that gave her body a rest but her mind never became calm. Essie stared at the empty ceiling of the barrack. The ends of nails stuck out from the pine boards of the hasty barrack. The war had come so quickly it had seemed. The country had evolved so much since the last World War.

The men were sleeping heavily. Talbert's chest was rising and falling to her right, his arms outstretched above his head, his fingers curled quietly against the wall of the long sleepy room. She glanced around as she sat up. Esther kept her breathing quiet, almost holding her breath. She knew there was no sense of trying to fall back asleep, her mind was already racing.

The sky was a dark, heavy blue- the hue of a fresh bruise. There was no orange or warm tones in the sticky Georgian atmosphere, no, it was still much too earlier. But the morning sun was tugging at the drawstrings behind the hills in the distance, and besides the snoring coming from Cobb, Essie felt she had the world to herself.

With her small feet still heavily wrapped in gauze, she pulled her knees out from the rough sheets. Growing comfortable, remembering Doc's words about Sobel the night before, she left her cot unmade at she stood. Goosebumps pricked her legs as she walked across the floor to the aisle between the two rows of beds. Joe Liebgott had his arms tucked and crossed against his chest as he snoozed. Essie saw the pack of Lucky Strikes he had prepared the night before laying temptingly on his footlocker. Quietly, she unwrapped the cellophane, pulled away the paper and drew one from the pack with her dry lips. She would owe Joe and she remembered he was on kitchen duty that coming day.

Borrowing his Zippo lighter as well, she slipped out the lightweight front door of the barrack. The camp was empty, but because the sun was rising it was not an eerie emptiness- it was rather refreshing. Nobody was barking orders, no men grunted against pain. Emptiness can at times make you feel full.

The sun had won, it was filling the sky with orange, draining into purple- ageing the bruise on the air. Essie settled down against the small steps leading to the raised barrack, carefully avoiding the red dirt so it would not get into the gauze protecting her feet. Though there was never a breeze, especially before the light of day- Esther cupped her hand around the brown end of the cancer stick, and flicked the orange light to life. She felt her chest settle into her abdomen, and peacefully she drew long and leaned against the wall. Suddenly her mind was easing into simple thoughts and worry escaped for a moment.

Her heart jumped as she heard the loose doorknob of the quarters move.

"I woke up to take my morning piss, and discovered that not only one of my smokes was missing, but cowgirl was missing as well." He put his hand on her head to help himself down, "Not only have I found the victim, but the culprit as well."

Her faced was flushed, both because she had been startled, and because she felt guilty.

"I know, I need to order some for myself." She looked up at Joe, "I'll take your kitchen duty today."

Joe bumped he shoulder against hers, finally lighting his own cigarette after pulling the Zippo from her hand. There was a pause as he puffed the first of the white paper. "Well, I won't argue with you, girl."

Essie smiled to herself as she continued to watch the sky morph into more warm colors. Filling the silence, she took a draw and on the exhale said, "I do love early mornings when I can enjoy them like I used to."

Liebgott almost bitterly ashed, "Yeah, I took things like that for granted back home in California. I grew up in Michigan, but the sun burns brighter in San Francisco. I was a cab driver, and I used to curse the sunrise when I would have to drive the still drunk or hung-over sailors home in the morning. I miss driving, cowgirl."

Before she could reply with an attempt to comfort, both of their shoulders sagged. The bugle player for Toccoa walked out, shining his horn against his uniform before putting it to his lips. As he played loudly, Essie and Joe flicked out their smokes and tossed their butts under the building as they stood.

"Our peace of the day is over," Liebgott looked sorrowfully at Essie. "We're marching today. One-hundred and eighteen fucking miles. Good fuck."

Essie's mind began panicking once more at the thought, her feet screaming in response.

B.o.B.

Fall had come and gone in the camp. It was much milder than the autumns had been in Nebraska. Normally they swept through Grand Island, showing its colors and bringing in the cold of the winter. In Georgia, the humidity was still hanging, but now it clung to chilled panes of windows to make its appearance. Colonel Sink had read in a magazine that a Japanese Army Battalion had broken the world record for marching endurance. Sink knew his men could do better- in his mind it was a part of the war effort.

They wouldn't embark for a few hours, and Essie knew she still had to cover Liebgott's kitchen duty. She made a note to pick up a few packs of smokes for her own use on the way to the dining hall. Her long hair still remained in a knotted lock at the back of her head, and she also knew she would need to get a proper hairbrush. The thin teeth of the issued comb simply could not keep up with her thick mass of hair.

Their time at Camp Toccoa was coming to an uncertain end today. This camp was the only thing she had known for months, the last place she had seen a member of her family- her father. This was the last place she had been told she was loved. Toccoa was so far, yet the closest thing to home she had been. This long proving march would bring them to Fort Benning to complete their jump training, and to earn their coveted wings.

Colonel Sink had sent a messenger to order Essie to see him that day before the march. It was a good thing she had woken up early, because she had so much to do. Quietly, while the men were getting dressed for the day, Essie had packed her things from her small cot area for the move. She felt a pang of melancholy as she glanced at the empty footlocker before she closed it. Now nothing but unknown, pure and sheer change was staring at her down a barrel.

Essie decided that going to see Sink first would be best. If she explained politely she had kitchen duty, maybe he wouldn't lecture her so long about how she was the Airborne's poster child. A child she was indeed, soon only turning 19.

She walked calmly and slowly to his office, running into Bill Guarnere. He had a pencil behind his ear, and his garrison cap tucked above his shoulder. He had been taking inventory.

"Hey, Bill!" She smiled warmly at him. He had defended her, worried for her and though she felt embarrassed, it was nice to know a man cared for her well being.

He smiled his signature smiled sealed with an underbite. "Heya, cowgirl. Where you headed?"

"Colonel Sink asked to see me."

Bill flashed his teeth in a nervous grin. "Oi, need a smoke first?"

Esther chuckled and nodded. He lit one between his teeth before turning it and handing it to her. "Hopefully it's not a long lecture, I'm covering kitchen for Liebgott. I bummed one off him and owe him." She took a drag, "Saw what do I owe you now?"

Bill smiled and raised his eyebrows, "That little weasel. He borrowed that pack from me, cowgirl. You don't owe me or anybody shit."

Essie still didn't mind doing the kitchen work. It was nice to feel useful in an environment full of comfort such as the kitchen.

"Say, let me walk with you to Sink's office, Es. I worry about you walking alone with Dog Company on the loose."

Essie felt like she should argue out of habit, but it was often a true scenario of Dog Company harassing her.

"Thank you, Bill. I'd appreciate that."

He held out his arm for hers to loop into, and together they smoked and walked toward Sink's office as they talked shit about Dog Company and the long march they had ahead.

B.o.B.

"Esther, what a pleasure to see you," Robert Sink was a kind man, who cared about his men and her. He stuck his hand out to guide her to a chair. She felt uneasy. He didn't give her time to salute or to even address her superior before he started on her.

"How are you? Good I hope," he replied for her. He was evidently worked up- about the challenging march she assumed. She hoped he would continue to speak quickly so she wouldn't be late for her duty at 0900. "I've brought you in here today because I have some news about your position as the woman face of the war effort."

It was comforting to be reminded she had a purpose in this whole mess.

"I've arranged with the Airborne to get you a personal photographer, who will send out photographs of you training at Fort Benning. This will show the American people your progress, as well as Easy Company's successes."

Essie swallowed hard, unable to come up with a reply.

Sink gave no time for a reply, thankfully on her part. "We're all pleased with your accomplishments at Toccoa and I am very confident with your continuing of training."

With that he stood and quickly helped her out the door with nothing more to say. She was grateful there was silence as she stepped out the door. She was soaked in embarrassment and confusion. A personal photographer? So much for being an equal to the men. He was treating her like a celebrity which she was very uncomfortable with.

The thoughts would have to be sorted within herself while she was at work in the kitchen, for the time was fast approaching for her to report to the dining hall. It was not far from Sink's office, but she jogged regardless and looked at her issued green band wristwatch. Buying smokes and a hairbrush would have to wait.

Upon arriving, she noticed the hall was relatively full of men eating a plain breakfast of eggs and bacon with black, thick coffee. She walked down the aisle, receiving sideways glances as she went. She felt at peace with herself in her fatigues, just recently being reminded of her mission in the Airborne.

"Hello, I'm taking the shift for Joe Liebgott. I'm Private Esther Fusillade." She saluted the Lieutenant that was in the kitchen, and as she looked over his shoulder she saw a very tired looking private looking immediately relieved at her words.

The Lieutenant showed no expression on his face, "Swell, I'm sure you have some great skills. The men will love you." His words were dry, leaning on sarcasm, and she hoped somebody would replace him come the beginning of her shift.

The private gave her a nervous smile before removing his apron and pulling the sweaty neck around hers. She quietly thanked him and began her work in the hot, stuffy kitchen room. The bacon was lean and disappointing, the egg yolks were pale. Before she had even become acquainted, the lieutenant left without a word and she was left alone to cook for 20-some men. The coffee was low, the grounds swimming heavily at the bottom of the pot. Though the smell was inviting, she knew the taste would grow chest hair on a child.

"Coffee, please." A dark haired man who she had often seen with Winters was leaning his elbows against the counter. It was Lewis Nixon, an intelligence officer for the regiment. Though his face was unshaven and his eyes were dark and heavy, he was still dashing.

"I'm making some new, fresh for you, sir," Essie said pleasantly. He handed her his personal tin mug and looked away after a glance into her eyes.

She fumbled around nervously, trying to keep herself calm and she moved quickly to find the grounds and boil some water. Esther thought she would enjoy the kitchen work, but her first customer with the dark eyes had made her anxious. He looked down at his watch as she struggled. Without care, she poured the steeping water down, and the steam rose up and seared her bare, tender underarm.

"Shit," she cursed to herself, the burning pain biting at her arm relentlessly.

Nixon stood up straight, "Are you alright?" He peered around the wall to get a better look at the source of the yelp.

She shifted to hide the growing white steam blister from his sight, "Fine, sir. Thank you."

Esther turned as she poured a cup of the finished coffee into a tin cup for the officer.

Nixon's dark brows were creased in mild concern at the moisture in her eyes. "Thank you, Private. See you during the march later."

With that he turned away with his mug and swaggered out the door into the lively Camp Toccoa.

Next is actually the march, I want to dedicate a full chapter for it.

Much love!