Hello again, dear readers! :) Another week over and here we are with another chapter. I had so much fun doing research for this one, I learned some really interesting things!
As always, thanks to all of you for reading my story, I'm glad you like it.
Shout-out to nette0602 for reviewing every chapter without fail. You're awesome! :)
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
"Anyone seen Shorty?" Lipton came up to the CP late in the afternoon. He had been looking all over for the small medic and was starting to get worried.
"Right here, Sarge", her voice answered mere inches away from his ear. He jumped, barely stifling an expletive.
All around him, the gathered men hooted and howled with laughter. The guilty party was grinning all over her face, giggling while her eyes gleamed with good-natured mischief. On a whim, Lip decided to go along with her spiel, which was successful in its aim to brighten the guys' mood.
Quick as a flash, he snatched her and threw her over his shoulder. Her laughter was interrupted by a surprised yelp and climbed an octave. Promptly, the girl began to squirm in his grip, squealing and trying to get down. "Serves you right, scaring me like that", he declared as he carried her around, stopping in front of various snowbanks as if contemplating which one to dump her into.
The men were cheering and pointing to the largest piles of snow. "Thanks a lot, boys!", Ella called over to them from where she was hanging upside down over the First Sergeant's shoulder. "Nice to know how much you love me!"
"We love you, Shorty, but Lip outranks you, see?!", Skip explained.
She laughed and resumed her attempts to escape Lipton's clutches. "I swear, Lip, I won't give you any of my chocolate", she informed him, twisting her upper body to see the side of his face.
He turned his head to look at her. "Hm…you drive a hard bargain", he said, clearly debating how serious her threat was.
"Careful, Lip, or you won't get any dessert!", Luz crowed.
Lipton laughed. "Alright alright, you win." He set the young girl back on her feet. She gave him an indignant glower, or tried to, at least. It was utterly ruined by the grin on her face.
.
Later, when Lip made his way to his own foxhole to try and get some rest – Ella's orders – he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. His fingers brushed against something he couldn't recall putting there. Pulling it out, a fond smile spread on his lips. "Sneaky little girl", he muttered to himself, quickly pocketing the chocolate bar again.
Even after knowing her for over two years, the young medic continued to surprise and amaze him. It wasn't just for her medical expertise or her unique way of interacting with the men and getting them to behave that made Ella such an indispensable member of Easy Company. It was her entire personality, her charm that she was completely unaware of, her calming presence. It was her small quirks and mannerisms. Her smiles, the way she nearly bounced on the spot with excitement. The soothing melody of words that flowed past her lips when she treated a patient. The way her head tilted in curiosity like a puppy. How she always seemed to know what her friends needed.
When Lipton closed his eyes, he sent a small prayer heavenwards. Thank you, Lord, for Ella Sawyer. Please don't take her away from us. We need her.
The evening meal was just as cold and bland as the other ones before. Ella gave up about half-way through, passing the rest of her portion to Perconte before getting up and walking away. Although the constant shivering burned up energy that didn't get replaced, she just couldn't eat. She was in desperate need of sleep, just like the rest of the men, and the exhaustion was beginning to steal her appetite.
The NCOs got basically no sleep and it was no different for the medics: They survived on cat naps of an hour max, scattered throughout day and night. Coupled with the cold, supply shortages and artillery barrages, they were running on fumes. Ella was watching her friends and comrades closer than ever and made daily reports to Captain Winters, keeping him informed about the physical and mental status of each and every man in the company.
She stumbled for the tenth time over a branch hidden beneath the snow as she looked for a place to catch some shuteye. The small girl had finished her rounds, reassuring herself that everybody was as well as could be expected. Gene was trying to find Heffron, but so far, he hadn't had any luck. Ella had promised him to be on the lookout for the redhead from Philly.
Sliding into an empty foxhole, she dimly noticed that she forgot her blanket. My word, I sound like a two-year old missing her favourite 'Nuscheli', the young medic thought with mild amusement, pulling her satchel into her lap and wrapping her arms around herself. A tiny voice in her head suggested getting up and fetching the blanket, but it quickly fell silent as sleep swept her away like an avalanche.
.
Gene wasn't surprised to find that Ella wasn't in their hole. The brunette had a habit of drifting from one foxhole to the next. It made sense, after all, it really was too dangerous for all three medics to share a hole. But it was also a bit frustrating because it made it more difficult for him to check on her without her noticing. His small friend was almost unnervingly capable of hiding her own sufferings, dismissing them as less important than the men's. The guys were therefore extra careful to ensure she was never alone in a foxhole.
This time, it was Bill Guarnere who found her.
Sitting down and promptly wrapping her blanket around the small girl before scooting closer, tucking her against his side and draping his blanket over both of them, he studied her closely. The rocket flare that the Krauts sent up to pick out targets illuminated Ella's features in a sharp light. "Watcha doin' here all alone, lil' lady?", he mused quietly. "Ye're freezin' and ye go off to sleep alone?" Even asleep, she was shivering badly and the purplish tint of her lips that presented a stark contrast to the chalky pallor of her skin spoke for itself.
As if the young medic had heard him, she shifted in her sleep. Her eyebrows scrunched together in discomfort and a cough pushed past chapped lips. Bill frowned. Was she sick? He prayed that she wasn't. Thankfully, the coughing spell was short and after a few slightly wheezing breaths, Ella settled again. He shrugged mentally, deciding that it was just a fluke. Everybody was coughing. He was sure she was keeping an eye on it herself and would tell the officers, or the Doc, if it was serious. After all, her highest priority had always been looking after the company. She wouldn't risk that by hiding a severe illness.
Sighing, he closed his eyes. No use worrying about something he couldn't change. And he'd better catch some sleep as well before the Krauts once again started their favourite pastime of showering them with artillery and mortar shells.
.
The fog had cleared. When Ella opened her eyes after a few hours of less than restful slumber, it took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. Or rather, that she was seeing something other than a white haze that washed out all the colours. What surprised her even more was the distinct, softly tingling feeling of sunrays on her face. D sunna ish duss, her tired brain supplied as a side note. A jolt went through the young medic as she realised the meaning behind that seemingly random thought. D sunna ish duss! A surge of energy hit her and the girl turned to her foxhole buddy, who was still asleep.
"Bill! Bill!"
Guarnere was pulled into wakefulness by a very familiar, very excited voice. He blinked reluctantly and was met with the pale face of Easy's female medic. A beaming smile had lit up her youthful features and her eyes sparkled.
"What?", he grunted, not entirely awake yet.
"D sunna ish duss", she relayed, hands enthusiastically pointing upwards.
"Huh?" He had seen her lips move, had heard that words had left her mouth, but the sounds that reached his ears made absolutely no sense.
Ella gestured up again. "D sunna! She's out! Luag!"
All the Philadelphian could make out was 'She's out', which didn't help him understand what had the girl so thrilled. His gaze followed her finger up into the blue sky. Hang on, blue? The platoon leader did a double take. "The sun's out", he mumbled, completely stunned. "The sun's out", he repeated, relief and excitement growing in his chest as the realisation sunk in. "Shorty, the sun's out!"
"That's what I've been saying the whole time!", the girl responded, scrambling to her feet and pulling him up with her.
Just then, an unmistakeable sound tore through the silence of the forest. The two sergeants looked up and whooped with joy as they watched planes zoom over their heads. "C'mon! Those are ours!", Bill called, clapping his small friend on the shoulder as they both raced off.
.
Everybody was up and running for the clearing. The men were shooting red smoke grenades to signal their location to the planes, to let the Allied pilots know that they were here, they were still here. They were cheering, standing right in the open and waving at the planes. In their exhilaration, they all forgot that from a cockpit, it was impossible to discern friend from foe. Fliers were therefore trained to fire upon anything and anyone that moved and they enforced that rule especially on supply drops.
Sure enough, a plane dived and started sending a hail of bullets towards the soldiers. "Take cover!", Lipton hollered.
Ella didn't need to be told twice. Seeing Gene still staring at the planes in a mixture of confusion and betrayal, she snatched him by the arm and pulled him back. "Allons-y, Gene!", she urged, anxious to reach the shelter of the treeline.
Around them, the boys returned fire. They had lost enough men as it was, they didn't need the additional abuse from their own Air Force! The two medics ducked out of the firing line and took cover behind a fallen tree.
"Cease fire!", the First Sergeant screamed over the ruckus, "Cease fire, god damnit!"
Immediately, the rifles fell silent.
"Sergeant, I don't understand! It was our own planes!" Gene stared at Lipton, completely lost.
The man hushed him as a deeper rumble filled the air.
"C-47s." Ella would recognise these aircraft anywhere. They all would. You don't forget the plane you jumped out of on various occasions. And right now, they were a sight for sore eyes, because in her mind, this could mean only one thing.
"They're bringing supplies", Lip confirmed. "It's a drop." A grin broke out on his face, chasing away the worry lines on his forehead. "It's a drop, come on!" He signalled for the soldiers to follow him, tugging at the two medics' sleeves to get them moving.
.
Ella sent Gene to retrieve the supplies from the drop zone in Bastogne. He would be accompanied by Lipton and an entire squad. "Say hello to Renée from me", she called after him. He waved, then the jeep drove off.
After her rounds, the small girl trudged towards the CP to report to Captain Winters. "S-Shorty?" The hesitant voice made her look up. Babe Heffron caught up to her, muffling a cough in his gloved hand. "Uh…" He fidgeted with the strap of his gun, looking quite uncomfortable. "Can I…can I talk to you?"
"Sure, what is it?" Instinctively, her eyes quickly flicked up and down his body, checking for injuries. She was relieved to find none.
"Well… I just wanted to apologise, I guess", he stammered.
Her eyebrows pulled together in a small, confused frown. "Apologise? For what?"
Now it was Babe's turn to be confused. "I was really mean to ya yesterday!", he pointed out incredulously. "I kinda, uhm, I mean I accused you of-" He broke off, shook his head and tried again: "I shouted at you. And basically said that you weren't trying to…ya know." He trailed off.
It dawned on her what he was talking about. "Babe, you don't have to apologise for being human and having feelings", she spoke, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.
"But-"
The young medic held up a hand to stop his protest. "Please, listen to me. I'm not mad at you, I never was." She looked at him imploringly, willing him to believe her.
"It's not right", he mumbled, gaze dropping to the snow-covered ground. "I didn't want to insult you or question your abilities. After all", he started rambling, "you're a really good medic and a great girl and you're always looking out for us and making sure we're alright and-"
"Breathe, Heffron", she gently reminded, a soft smile spreading on her lips. He obeyed, mouth closing. She squeezed his shoulder, making him look at her. "You have nothing to apologise for. You didn't insult me. Don't worry about it."
Babe nodded, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Okay", he responded slowly, the first smile since that patrol appearing on his lips. It was small and unsure, but it was there.
The brunette nodded back and patted him on the arm. "Good. Now, how's your cough? Any better?"
He shrugged. "Uh…a little. I got some coffee, that helped."
Ella smiled. "That's good. Unfortunately, there's not too much we can do, except wait. Try to keep warm and don't take off your scarf."
"Yes Ma'am", the redhead replied, saluting in jest. She gave him a bemused look and a playful shove.
.
They reached the CP, Babe moving to sit with Hashey, Garcia and Hoobler while the ranking medic went to report to Captain Winters. The man had already spotted the young sergeant and they stepped a few feet away from the small group.
"I sent Roe with Sergeant Lipton to gather the supplies", she said. "They probably won't be back for a while. We'll start sorting and distributing the stuff as soon as they're here, sir."
Their former CO nodded approvingly. "Good, good. How are the men?"
Brushing a few tangled strands out of her face, Ella sighed. "Hanging on, sir. Morale is alright, not stellar of course. A lot of the boys are sick and that probably won't get better without proper winter clothing and hot food. Luckily, most of them only have a cold, nothing too serious, but I keep an eye on them in case they get worse."
She didn't bother mentioning that they could do next to nothing if someone developed pneumonia, bronchitis or any other more severe condition. Winters had enough to worry about as it was and maybe, just maybe, there was penicillin in the packages.
The captain had listened quietly to her report, the small crease of worry between his eyebrows deepening a little. Now, his gaze took on a searching quality. "And how are you, Ella?"
The girl shrugged, scratching absently at the dried blood that stained the sleeves of her jacket. "As well as can be, sir." His expression told him that he wasn't completely convinced, so she allowed: "I would feel a lot better if we had proper supplies." If Winters still wasn't buying it, he didn't let it show. He gave her a tiny smile and patted her shoulder. "You and me both, Shorty. You and me both."
There wasn't any penicillin in the air-dropped packages. Ella, Gene and Spina didn't need too much time to sort through the boxes and divide the supplies amongst themselves. Plasma, bandages, suture kits, that was about all they had. Still no morphine for them. The aid station had been resupplied, but it wasn't enough to share with the various medics up on the front lines.
"I tried", Gene professed, "I told them we were down to our last syrette, but they wouldn't listen."
Ella gave him a sympathetic smile. "We know, Gene. It's not your fault that munition was prioritised." Though who's supposed to fire the ammo when we all die due to the lack of clothing, food and medical supplies is beyond me. She banished that thought as soon as it occurred to her. Jetz ish wohl kaum dr richtig Ziitpunkt zum zynisch sii!, the girl scolded herself. They had plasma, which was a big improvement. They had proper, sterile bandages and suture kits to take care of minor wounds themselves.
Spina sighed. "At least we finally got enough blankets for everyone", he commented, pointing to the large crate sitting beside him. "Maybe more."
The brunette's eyes lit up. "That's great!", she enthused, "now the guys out on the OP have at least something to keep them warm. They can't move around to keep the blood circulating and they can't very well double up under one blanket."
Infected by her excitement, Gene cracked a tired smile and grabbed an arm full of blankets. "I'll take them", he offered, getting to his feet.
"Alright", Ella nodded. "Then get some rest, you've been running around all day. Spina and I will-" The rest of her sentence got cut off by a rattling cough. The girl grimaced and hid her face in her sleeve as her body tried to expel whatever gunk had been gathering in her lungs. She was well aware of the concerned looks her fellow medics were giving her, but too breathless to reassure them. Her stomach muscles were starting to ache as she tried to stop coughing.
When she finally had her breathing under control again, the brunette managed: "Ergh. Sorry. As I was saying-"
This time, it was Spina who interrupted her. "How long have you been coughing?" His face was a mask of worry.
Taking a small sip from her canteen, she swallowed and answered with a shrug: "A few days."
Gene was studying her, a deep frown marring his pale features. She met his gaze calmly. "I'm fine", she said, "it's just a cough."
A moment passed. And another. And another. Then he nodded, lip twitching lightly. "Alright, Ellie. Mais fais attention, d'accord?"
The young medic gave him a cheeky grin. "Aren't I always?", she asked back. The look he sent her way before leaving spoke volumes.
.
Gene had just left the OP, his quiet footsteps fading in the distance. Silence reigned once more as slow lightly fell from the sky. Buck, Guarnere and Babe were manning the outpost and thanks to the supply drop, they now had blankets to wrap up in.
"Never calls anybody by their nickname", Bill commented, handing out the blankets the Cajun medic had delivered.
Babe remarked: "He once called me Edward", sounding somewhere between confused and mildly affronted.
Bill glanced at his friend. "That right?"
Buck turned to look at the youngest – and greenest – of their small group. "Edward?", he repeated. "That's your name?"
The redhead nodded awkwardly. "Yeah."
"Funny", the blond lieutenant said. After a beat, he continued: "You don't look like an Edward." The words hung in the air as their eyes turned back to the line, a renewed hush falling over the three men that was only broken by Babe's wheezing cough.
"So…" It was no surprise to them that Babe was the first one to shatter the tired, tense silence with that hesitantly uttered word. "I heard Doc call Ella a nickname. Why her and nobody else?"
For a minute, nobody answered. Then, Guarnere said: "Cause it's Ella."
"Huh?"
Bill shifted a little so he could look at his fellow Philadelphian buddy. "It's Ella", he repeated as if that tiny sentence explained everything.
Buck nodded. "Can't imagine calling her Sergeant Sawyer", he agreed softly.
"Yeah. That's why Doc calls her Ellie", Bill continued, "'s why we call her Ella, or Shorty."
Babe gave an understanding hum.
"And because we still don't know her given name." The dry statement Bill added like an afterthought coaxed a smile out of them. For the blond lieutenant, it was the first real smile in weeks.
.
While the men pondered the medics and their unique mannerisms, Ella had other worries. She had been watching her colleague very carefully and she didn't like what she saw. Gene was starting to show signs of battle fatigue and frankly, the young girl was scared. Dealing with shell-shock and combat stress was a tightrope walk, one mistake and the patient could either become violent or completely listless.
But that wasn't what she was afraid of. It was more the fear of losing her friend with his subtle, sly humour, his dry retorts and his calm nature. Get a grip, Ella! She shook her head, shoving the thoughts into a far-back, dusty corner of her mind. She couldn't afford to second-guess herself. She would do what she always did when she noticed one of the boys struggling and hopefully, they would be out of this god-forsaken forest soon.
The next morning, the Germans decided to up the ante. Tanks came rolling towards the tree line. After another nearly-sleepless night, Ella couldn't find it in her to do more than sigh, put on her helmet and take a deep breath. The latter turned out to be a stupid idea because it made her cough. Luckily, it was over in less than twenty seconds, which she counted as an improvement.
First Sergeant Lipton hurried past her, telling the soldiers in their foxholes: "Hold your fire, boys. Don't let them draw you out."
The brunette knelt in her hole, fingers fiddling with the strap of her satchel, teeth biting her lip. Not too much later, Alley shouted for a medic. Hopping out of the foxhole, the young girl hurried towards the line.
"Smokey's hit!", somebody called to her as she ran past.
They had already pulled the wounded man from his hole and dragged him back. He was gasping and had tears in his eyes. Gene was trying to find the wound when Ella skidded to a halt next to them. "I can't feel my legs", Smokey cried, hands searching for something to hold on to.
She reached out and gripped his left hand, thumb stroking over his knuckles. "It's okay, Smokey, we're here."
The roar of the tanks picked up and they heard Lipton holler: "Machine guns, open fire!"
.
The medics worked quickly on their patient, long since accustomed to the noise of battle around them, but anxious to get the wounded man to the rear. Gene ripped a bandage from his satchel and together they hauled Gordon in a sitting position, Ella bracing him. At the same time, she fished the last remaining syrette out of her pocket and stuck it in Smokey's arm. The poor man was panicking, his breaths coming in short panting puffs, and he was almost grey.
They prepared to haul him back towards the CP. Gene raised his head and screamed for Lip. The First Sergeant was with them in a heartbeat and switched positions with Ella, leaving her free to ready the plasma drip.
"We gotta get the hell outta here", Lipton said to them before turning to Smokey. He patted his cheek to try and rouse him. "Hey, hey, come on", he urged, "stay with us, Smokey, stay with us." They grabbed their fallen comrade by the straps of his webbing and double-timed it away from the line. Behind them, the tank shell bursts sent up fountains of snow and dirt.
.
After a distance, Gene ground out: "Stop, we gotta stop." It wasn't easy dragging a fully grown man through the snow, especially when he was in no condition to assist them in any way. Ella dropped to her knees next to her fellow medic, tourniquet between her teeth, pushing up Gordon's sleeve.
While she and Gene worked to give Smokey the infusion he needed, Lip rubbed the wounded man's sternum in an effort to wake him from where he was hovering on the edge of unconsciousness.
Slowly, Smokey's eyes fluttered open. "Lip", he mumbled.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"You're standin' on my hand", the machine gunner spoke quietly.
Lip glanced down and hurriedly took his foot off Gordon's appendage. "Sorry, pal", he apologised breathlessly, head swivelling when another salve of gunfire rattled behind them. He needed to get back to the line! "Look, I'll get you another Purple Heart for it", he offered, getting to his feet.
Ella's head snapped up when she heard a jeep approaching. "Give me the plasma, Lip, and stop that jeep", she instructed in that calm tone of her's that brooked no argument. She tucked the bottle under her jacket just like he had done and turned back to Smokey, while Lipton flagged down the jeep. "Don't worry, Smokey, you'll be alright", she said, smiling at her patient.
He managed a tiny, wobbly smile in return and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Shorty", he croaked. "See you after the war."
Lipton enlisted the jeep driver's help to get the wounded man onto the stretcher. "I got it, Ellie", Gene said. She nodded and handed him the plasma. Then the men picked Smokey up and carried him away.
The young girl watched as the jeep barrelled off. "See you later, Smokey", she whispered into the frigid air, words curling in the vapour of her breath. She was pulled out of her thoughts by Lip's hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Ella, we gotta get back to the line", he spoke.
Clearing her throat, the ranking medic nodded and immediately shifted back into her medic mode. "Let's go", she said and they took off hurrying back to the boys.
.
Something in Gene had changed when he came back from Bastogne. Ella found him in his foxhole, staring blankly ahead. She sat down next to him, picked up the discarded blanket and draped it over both of them. "Gene?"
It took him an alarmingly long time to react to her presence. He blinked, eyes regaining their focus. "Oh. Salut, Ellie", he muttered, gaze skirting away from hers, roaming over the trees before them instead.
She pulled her musette bag into her lap, deciding to inventory her cigarette and chocolate stash while waiting him out. Counting wasn't an easy feat when one was shaking and almost numb from the cold. The cigarettes slipped through her stiff, uncoordinated fingers and she kept losing count because she either got distracted by other thoughts or simply skipped numbers.
"He's paralysed."
Ella looked up, a wave of sad resignation washing through her as her diagnosis was confirmed. "Yeah", she acknowledged quietly, putting away the musette bag.
Gene sighed heavily, some of the emptiness disappearing from his face. "Bullet brushed his spinal cord", he relayed.
Her mien brightened a little. "So it might only be temporary." Spinal injuries were unpredictable and if the spinal cord wasn't severed, there was at least a chance of recovery.
"Hmm", her friend made in response, eyes straying into the distance once more. They shot back over to the small girl when she made an odd strangled noise and broke out into a coughing fit. She bent forward, red-tinged hands coming out of equally stained sleeves to cover her mouth. Gene watched with fast rising worry as she kept coughing and choking, the noisy, laboured inhales few and far between.
Ella was struggling to pull in enough air. She couldn't stop coughing, no matter how hard she tried. Her lungs, no scratch that, her entire chest was on fire and she was starting to feel light-headed. Bitte los es ufhöra, she pleaded with whatever higher power was listening.
.
Gene let out a relieved sigh when the coughing spasm began to die down and his young friend was actually getting oxygen into her lungs again. Exhausted, she slumped against him, eyes closing as her complexion returned to normal, or at least to its previous pale colour. "I'm alright", she rasped.
"No you're not. You're sick", he countered, a deep crease of concern on his forehead.
She shook her head, a few dirty strands tumbling out of her messy hairdo. "I have a cough, 's all. Always had a cough when I caught a cold as a kid."
He quarrelled with himself. On one hand, he was inclined to believe her. He hadn't seen her display any other symptoms and in these conditions, a cough was nothing unexpected. On the other hand, though, he was scared that it might be more serious than she let on. The company couldn't lose Ella. He couldn't lose Ella.
"Gene, regarde-moi", she gently asked. When he lifted his gaze, she clasped his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. There's nothing we can do about that cough, so I'll just have to ride it out."
His conflicting emotions must have shown on his face because a soft smile appeared on her features, warmth glowing in her green eyes. "I promise, if I get worse, I'll tell you at once."
He studied her intently, searching for any sign that she was either holding back or telling him a fib. All he saw was earnest sincerity and a wordless reassurance. Sighing, he conceded with a nod. He got a sweet smile in return.
It was Christmas Eve. Or so Ella had been told. She shifted from one foot to the other as she stood a little distance away from the chow line, gaze roving over the men around her. It came to rest on her friend and fellow medic, Gene. He was sitting with his back against a tree, staring fixedly at a point beyond the snow and cold that surrounded them.
Babe walked up to him, two mugs in his hand. "Doc?" He held out one of the cups. Gene blindly reached up to accept his portion of food, eyes still looking at a spot hundreds of miles away. Sighing, the youngest member of Easy made her way over and sat down next to the Cajun. Raising her head, she saw Captain Winters watching them closely. Before she could make a move to respond to his worried expression, the rumbling of a jeep caught everybody's attention.
It was Colonel Sink. "We're all sitting down to a Christmas Eve dinner of turkey and hooch back at the Division CP", he announced.
Ella scoffed quietly.
"Damned if I don't like old Joe Domingus' rancid-ass beans better", he continued with a smile.
Oh, so that's what this is supposed to be!, the girl thought. Beans! Could have passed for cat food. Never mind, food is food. She glanced at Gene. He was still holding his mug and showed no intention of eating. Inwardly, the brunette cursed. He was shutting down faster than she had imagined. Outwardly, she simply scooted closer to her friend, trying to share some body heat.
"Hello Easy Company", Sink greeted them genially.
A murmur of "Hello sir" rang out from the men who didn't have a mouthful of beans. The colonel exchanged a few quiet words with Winters, then addressed them all once again while the boys quickly gathered to hear what he had to say. The two medics stayed where they were.
.
"Men…and woman", he sent the female combat medic a smile, "General McAuliffe wishes us all a merry Christmas. 'What's merry about all this?', you ask? Just this: We've stopped cold everything that's been thrown at us from the North, East, South and West. Now, two days ago, the German commander demanded our honourable surrender to save the USA encircled troops from total annihilation. The German commander received the following reply: 'To the German commander: Nuts!'" That got a few chuckles and laughs out of the guys and they shared amused and smug looks.
"We're giving our country and our loved ones at home a worthy Christmas present", the colonel continued, "and being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms, we're truly making ourselves a merry Christmas."
The small girl turned her gaze away from the man, eyes falling to look at the snow-covered ground before her.
Sink finished his speech with a sincere: "Merry Christmas to y'all and God bless you."
The boys smiled and cheered: "Nuts, sir! Nuts!"
The only ones who didn't join in the laughter were the two medics that sat side by side, both clutching their cooling mugs in their hands. Gene was still in his zone, likely not even registering most of what was going on around him. Ella looked pensive, her green orbs gazing into the distance, thoughts swirling behind them. She was worried. About her friend, about all her boys.
Peering into her cup, the brunette forced herself to take a spoonful of the beans. They had gone cold and she wasn't hungry at all, but she had to eat. She had already lost weight and she could ill afford to lose even one more pound. She heaved a sigh and immediately regretted it as it caused her to cough. Her face twisted into a pained grimace as the spasms aggravated her sore stomach muscles.
Ducking her head, Ella rode out the unpleasant but comparatively mild coughing fit. As soon as it was over, the girl took a swig from her canteen, pretending to have choked on a bite of her meal. A quick glance around told her that most of the guys were still too busy celebrating the defiant reply the German commander had received. A few concerned gazes rested on her, but those were quickly eradicated when she gave them a brilliant smile.
.
"Gene?"
As the young medic had guessed, her coughing had pulled him back into the here and now. Blinking a few times, he looked at her, instinctively flicking his eyes up and down her thin frame to assess her condition. "Huh?"
"C'mon." She got to her feet, pulling a face when her stiff limbs and joints protested the movement. Waiting for her friend to follow suit, Ella sought out the Battalion XO's gaze that she knew was still trained on them. A small nod indicated his approval. He had spoken to her before dinner and expressed his worry about the quiet Cajun. She had promised to do all she could to help her friend.
.
Gene studied the brunette discretely as they walked through the woods. Her placid, open expression gave nothing away and he turned his attention to their surroundings. The snow crunching beneath their boots was frozen. The air was clear and night was approaching. Their breaths came out as puffs of steam. Frost was forming intricate patterns and designs on their clothing and helmets.
They reached their empty foxhole. Their blankets lay inside, sprinkled with snow. Hopping down, Ella waited for her fellow medic to settle against the cold, hard dirt before covering him with one of the blankets, tucking it around him. Grabbing the other blanket, the girl then sat down beside him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Talk to me, Gene."
He looked up, a frown of confusion clouding his pale face. "About what?" He tried to keep the tension out of his voice.
The brunette quirked a small, sad smile. "It's just me, Gene", she said, hand rising in a pacifying gesture. "You don't have to put on an act for me."
With a deep sigh, the Cajun's entire posture sagged. "You've noticed?" It wasn't really a question, of course she had seen it, but a tiny part of him had hoped to deal with this himself.
She nodded. "It's not a shame, Gene. Everyone's struggling."
He scoffed. "Right. Except for you. You have a smile for everyone and make them laugh." The bitterness in his tone was directed more at himself.
Her responding chuckle had a pained edge to it. "What else can I do?" Her eyes locked onto him, gaze soft, yet piercing in a way that made him feel almost sheepish. She smiled. "Look, I can't force you to do anything and I can't look inside you...much", she amended after a tiny pause, earning her an amused twitch of her fellow medic's lips. "So I need you to talk to me."
It was quiet while Gene mulled over her words. Ella leant back, letting her gaze and thoughts drift idly as she gave her friend time to think. A cough attack crawled up her windpipe and pushed past her cracked, purple-tinged lips. She hurriedly tugged up her blanket, muffling the sounds in her sleeve under the coarse fabric. Thankfully, with half her face covered by the blanket, the girl could hide the wince that accompanied each rattling, barking cough. Her airways hurt from all the coughing spells, from her throat right down to her diaphragm. It was a miracle in itself that she hadn't lost her voice yet.
.
"You could force me, you know", Gene broke the silence. "You outrank me."
The brunette smirked mischievously. "I knew you'd get hung up on that one", she replied before quickly sobering once more. "You're right, I could order you to turn yourself into the aid station. And then what? They are packed and short-handed as it is. And…if I'm honest, I'd rather have you here with me."
"Why?" He stared at her in puzzlement. He was zoning out, his reaction time had slowed down considerably, and if he wasn't doing rounds, he was sleeping. He knew she had seen those signs, too, so it was a mystery to him why she would want to keep him around instead of taking him off the line.
Ella shrugged, a lopsided, slightly self-deprecating smile making its way onto her features. "I guess I'm just selfish. I can't take care of the entire company on my own, even with Spina's help. And feel free to correct me anytime, but I think transferring you to the rear would do more harm than good." She got to her feet and draped her blanket over him, too. "Think about it and we can talk some more in the morning."
Gene nodded. "Okay Ellie." He paused for a long moment, before adding: "Thank you."
She patted his shoulder and hopped out of the foxhole. "That's what friends are for, right?" With a gentle reminder to get some rest, the young medic disappeared into the night.
As Ella ambled through the forest, hands buried deep in her pockets and shoulders hunched up, a distant sound reached her ears. She stopped and listened. From the German lines, the familiar verses of 'O Christmas Tree' floated across the clearing. Sighing softly, the girl put her head back and looked up into the clear night sky. Stars twinkled down on her. Must be nice up there, she thought. Away from all the pain, the fear, the death.
Absently, the brunette began singing along with the Germans under her breath, a mere whisper on the winter breeze. The words slid from her lips, tongue not even noticing the different language, switching effortlessly with the ease of yearlong practice. With the song, homesickness came. Wrapping her arms tighter around her shivering frame, Ella spoke quietly: "Hey Mama, fröhlichi Wianachta. I hoff, es got dr guat. I ha di liab." The stars didn't answer, but she found their light slightly comforting.
Footsteps approached. "Hello, Ella."
The small girl tore her gaze away from the sky to glance at her former CO. "Hello sir", she greeted.
After a beat, she looked at him again, a genial smile on her face. "Merry Christmas, sir."
Captain Winters returned the smile. "Merry Christmas, Ella."
He came to stand next to her.
"You're shaking", he noted.
Her eyes flickered over to him for a moment, glittering. "So are you, sir." She looked up. "Clear nights are always colder", she added quietly.
It was indeed brutally cold, more so than the previous nights. Each breath was like a mouthful of needles travelling down her throat. She had asked the NCOs to ensure that at least 3 people shared a foxhole. She didn't want to find any more men frozen to death the next morning.
Over on the enemy line, the singing picked up again, the tune changing to 'Silent Night'. Ella fell in, still keeping her voice low.
.
"Where did you learn German?", Winters asked softly after listening to her a while. He already knew she was at least bilingual, some foreign words sometimes sneaking into her speech, but he hadn't heard her speak German before.
"Oh, my Mama taught me. It's my second- no hang on…my third? Ach, never mind, it's one of my mother tongues", she answered, a touch of pride underneath her normal nonchalance.
"How many languages do you speak at home then?", he inquired.
The brunette coughed into her sleeve-clad hands. "Pardon me", she said before answering: "Well, growing up, we spoke English with my Papa. My mother switched between English, German, Swiss German and Rumantsh. It was her way of giving us a connection to our roots, to her side of the family." A gentle smile appeared on her lips. "Mama is Swiss, you know. They have four national languages there and she said almost each part of the country speaks a different dialect."
The captain was impressed, and intrigued. He smiled at her enthusiasm. "That sounds confusing. Do the people even understand each other?"
Ella nodded her head vigorously. "Oh yes, sir, most of the time. Where my Mama grew up, they spoke Rumantsh and Swiss German. And everything written – or almost everything – was in German."
He frowned. "So, the people in Switzerland have an own version of German?"
"Uhm… yes, those dialects. But in school, they all have to learn the German that's spoken in Germany, but it's not the same German, because some words are different." She broke off and frowned as well. "You're right. It is confusing." Especially for someone who was suffering from sleep deprivation, exhaustion and the onset of hypothermia. Her puzzled look made the redheaded officer chuckle again.
"You should get some rest, Ella", Winters spoke after a period of silence, taking a good look at the ranking medic. The dark rings under her eyes had the colour of coal while her tan had given way to a pallor that rivalled the whiteness of the snow below their feet. She was shaking visibly and he could hear her teeth chattering.
Knowing full well that it wasn't a mere suggestion, the girl gave in. "Yes sir", she said, "I'll just finish my rounds."
He nodded his approval and watched her go.
.
When the artillery hit, Ella had just been on her way to check on Gene. She heard somebody scream in pain, while another voice roared for a medic. They can't even give us a break for Christmas!, she cursed as she tore off through the snow.
The flashes of the explosions, along with the shrapnel and splinters that flew everywhere, left her disoriented. Panic seized her as the small medic found herself at a total loss as to where she was. But she didn't stop. She kept running, relying completely on her sense of hearing and ignoring the burning in her lungs and throat.
"Medic! Doc!" With a jolt, the young girl recognised the voice as Captain Winters'. Keep shouting, she pleaded in her mind, keep shouting. After a few minutes, she managed to localise the direction from where the yells and howls of the wounded came. A tree close behind her took a direct hit, the treetop bursting into millions of deadly pieces. The force of the concussion knocked her forward, making her stumble. Ash and dirt rained from the sky, mixing with the snowflakes. Getting her feet under her, Ella kept running, irrespective of the forest exploding all around her.
When the brunette reached the source of the calls, Gene was already there. But he wasn't his normal flurry of motions. He stood stock-still, no doubt staring blankly at the wounded man writhing and moaning on the ground.
"Gene, bouge!", she called as she rushed past him, battered kneepads hitting the ground with a dull thud. A glance revealed that her patient was Lieutenant Welsh.
"Roe", Winters spoke to the frozen Cajun, trying to pull him from his zone. The medic blinked slowly, his gaze coming up to meet the Captain's.
.
Ella pushed the scarf acting as a make-shift bandage out of the way to get a good look at the wound. "Alright, Lieutenant, take it easy", she said, registering how the man relaxed slightly in response to her voice. A rustle of clothes followed by a body appearing in her field of vision told her that Gene had broken out of his trance. The two officers shifted, giving the medics room to work while they took over the task of calming down their comrade. Peacock was just sitting there, looking completely helpless.
Gene was moving to apply the tourniquet while Ella pulled a bandage out of her satchel, her blood-stained hands leaving red prints on the package. She looked at Welsh's face, his screams having turned to groans and gasps. He was shaking.
"Shock", she informed her friend under her breath as she wiped away the blood on the patient's thigh to see the actual injury before applying pressure to the grim wound with both hands.
"We're out of morphine", Gene murmured back, ripping open a packet of sulfa with his teeth.
Turning to Harry, whose complexion was more grey than white, the ranking medic smiled comfortingly. "I know you're in pain, but we're out of morphine", she spoke gently. His eyes widened in horror and she quickly continued: "But there's something else I can give you. It's a new drug, only just introduced. We got it with the supply drop and it's even stronger than morphine."
From the corner of her eye, Ella saw Gene's head snap up for a second before he took over applying pressure and tying the bandage, leaving her with both hands free. "Just give me something", Welsh ground out through clenched teeth, chest heaving with pained gasps. She nodded and reached into her bag. She fished out a syringe filled with a clear liquid, flicking it to get rid of the small air bubble. Pushing up his left sleeve, the girl expertly stuck the needle into his upper arm and injected the substance. "There. Don't worry, in two minutes, you won't feel a thing", she promised with a smile. "And in five, you'll be fast asleep."
"Elevate his head", Gene instructed Lt Peacock as they prepared to lift him. Having been completely focused on her patient, Ella hadn't noticed that the shelling had stopped or that the jeep had arrived. Rising to her feet, she followed the officers to the jeep, getting in and helping transfer Welsh onto the gurney. She caught Captain Winters by the elbow. "Sir..." Knowing he would follow her gaze, she let her eyes flicker to Gene, who was still kneeling on the ground.
The Battalion XO nodded and strode back to the Cajun. He spoke quietly to him. Gene got up and jogged over to the jeep, hopping in beside her. "Let's go!", Ella called to the driver, who didn't hesitate and stepped on the gas.
.
True to her words, Welsh fell asleep even before they got out of the forest. When they finally reached the open road, the medics' hearts nearly stopped. The sky was alight with flak and tracer ammunition, dying planes and burning structures. The Luftwaffe was bombing Bastogne. Nevertheless, they drove into town, hoping, praying that the hospital was still standing.
Ella and Gene threw themselves over their patient, protecting him with their own bodies as buildings blew up on either side of the street, showering them in dust, embers and debris. The whistling of the incoming bombs was near-constant and there were corresponding explosions all over. The jeep came to a halt and they jumped out, squinting through the haze. The eerie light of the fires cast ever-changing shadows over ruins and half-collapsed walls. The smoke cleared a little and revealed a huge pile of rubble behind the archway of the chapel. Sharing a distressed look, the two medics rushed forward.
"Stay out of there! Are you nuts?!", a soldier shouted at them as he ran past. They ignored him, coming to a halt in front of the heaps of broken planks, bricks and mortar. The ground shook as bomb after bomb hit, tearing apart the small town that surely had been pretty once. The destroyed houses expelled plumes of dust and smoke through paneless windows and gaping doorways. Glass tinkled and jingled as it fell to the ground in thousands of shards.
Gene took a few steps forward and reached into the rubble, pulling out a piece of dirty, blue cloth. She recognised it and a cold, sinking feeling spread in the pit of her stomach. He turned and looked at her with wide, grief-filled eyes. All she could do was shake her head and put a hand on his shoulder. Were there any words to explain, to comfort? She didn't have them.
"Medic! Get your asses out here! Come on!" The driver's shout shattered the small sphere of sadness and silence that had engulfed them for a moment and they forced themselves to turn around and leave. "We gotta get outta here!", the driver called over another explosion. Ella nodded. "Get us to the next aid station, this man needs a surgeon!", she ordered. He didn't need any more incentive, turning the jeep around and barrelling back the way they had come.
Fascinatingly enough, Welsh was still out cold, completely oblivious of the world burning around them. Gene was silent, eyes fixed on the headscarf clutched in his hands.
.
On the drive to the next aid station a few miles out, Ella couldn't suppress the coughing fit any longer. One hand bracing her against the cold metal of the folded down windscreen, her body shuddered and flinched as her lungs attempted to explore the outside world. Short, wheezing gasps interrupted the convulsions of her diaphragm, dragging in a meagre amount of air. Her entire upper body screamed with pain, the not entirely healed bruises on her ribs making their presence known. Each cough tore at her throat and made her stomach hurt.
Black spots began to pop up in her vision field. No no no no no, I can't pass out now! With trembling hands, she fumbled for her canteen while forcing herself to take slow, deliberate breaths. It made her head pound like it was about to explode and her lungs felt ready to burst at the seams, but it stopped the coughing long enough for her to gulp down a few mouthfuls of icy, stale water. Swallowing, the cough was already a little better and soon died down, leaving her drained and out of breath.
A warm arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. She didn't have to open her eyes – she couldn't remember when she'd closed them in the first place – to know who it was. "You're getting worse, Ellie", Gene said, worry reverberating in his voice.
"Breathing in dust and smoke didn't help", the young medic answered hoarsely. "Hot food would, though."
She felt him nod. "Captain Winters told me to get ourselves some." He shifted, leaning forward, then sat back again. "Lieutenant Welsh is still out. What the hell did ya give him, Ellie? Cause there ain't been any new drugs in that drop", he stated, sounding somewhere between curious and puzzled.
The brunette opened her mouth, but was saved from answering as they reached the aid station. Two corpsmen came rushing over and took the stretcher, the two medics quickly following them inside. "Got caught in an artillery blast, shrapnel wound to the thigh", Ella informed the surgeon who immediately set to work examining the lieutenant. "No morphine", Gene added.
He froze and stared at the pair. "No morphine?!", he sputtered. "How is that possible, this man's solidly knocked out!"
Easy's ranking medic awkwardly cleared her throat and produced an empty syringe from her satchel. The surgeon looked back and forth between her, the syringe in her hand and the patient. Then, realisation spread on his face, rapidly overshadowed by denial. "No."
She nodded. "Yes. I had no choice, we're completely out of syrettes and he was already going into shock."
Heaving a huge sigh, the doctor scrubbed a hand down his face. "Well, in that case, the lieutenant can be glad to have such quick-thinking medics. There's no way he would have survived otherwise." He called over some nurses and corpsmen, telling them to get the patient ready for surgery. "And somebody get these two something to drink and a hot meal", he finished.
.
The two medics were lead over to the small mess hall. "I'll have something ready for you in a minute", the cook promised after taking one glance at them and shoving two steaming mugs of tea into their hands. "You just go ahead and sit down."
Gratefully, Ella and Gene plopped down on a couple of old chairs, tugging off their helmets and running blood-crusted hands through their hair. Gene rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily. According to her watch – which surprisingly enough still worked – it was just past 0300. No wonder they were both ready to fall asleep right where they sat. The girl took a sip of her tea and very nearly began to cry. The hot beverage soothed her raw throat and started warming her stomach. For the first time in almost a week, she was experiencing at least some semblance of warmth. Sure, she was still wearing nothing but a few layers of summer ODs, a stolen jacket and a pair of scuffed boots, but her limbs no longer felt stiff as icicles and there was no wind or snow crawling under her uniform, biting at her skin.
"There you go, guys." The cook placed two bowls in front of them. "There's more where that came from. Just holler if you need something."
They thanked the kind man and he bustled back to the kitchen. They grabbed their spoons and started eating. Each mouthful of the warm stew was chewed slowly, carefully, almost reverently. All too soon, the bowls were empty. Ella closed her eyes and rested her head on her arms, tangled locks tumbling forward.
Gene yawned and was about to follow his young friend's example, when it occurred to him that he was still waiting for an answer. "What was in that syringe, Ellie?", he repeated his earlier question.
Her head lifted and she sighed tiredly. "Saline."
He gawked at her like she had just grown another set of arms. "S-saline?", he stuttered.
"Simple, ordinary saline", the girl confirmed. "I swiped it the last time we were at the aid station. Figured it would come in handy."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You knew it would work?"
"No. But I hoped it would."
.
He pulled a face, looking somewhere between incredulous and uncomfortable. "Ellie, you said yourself that it's not good to lie to the patients", he reminded her.
The brunette smiled weakly. "And that still stands. I told him I had something that would take away the pain and make him fall asleep, which it did. The only thing that could be considered a lie was the part about it being a new drug."
"So you gave him a placebo? But how could he sleep through that air raid?" That was still a mystery to the Cajun medic.
"By getting Welsh's mind to expect a pain relief soon, his body reacted and released the necessary chemicals and hormones on its own", she explained. "All I had to do was make him believe that the drug he got worked."
Gene shook his head, this time in amazement. "The power of the mind, huh?", he said, the first real smile in almost a week tugging at his lips.
Ella gave him her best lopsided smile. "That's right."
They stayed for another cup of tea, then they had to get back to Easy. Their driver had already been called away again, but fortunately, another jeep was headed in the right direction. They hitched a ride and returned to the line just after dawn had risen.
Gene went to do rounds, but not after sternly admonishing the small girl to get some sleep. "And not in an empty foxhole!", he added, fixing her with his own signature look.
She raised an eyebrow at him, a good-natured grin on her face and gave him a shove. "Get outta here", she said, chuckling.
The smile on her face broadened a little when she walked past Captain Nixon, who was dressing down a rather befuddled looking Lt Dike. She couldn't help but snicker a little. Reaching Captain Winters' hole, she crouched down at the edge. He looked up at her with an inquisitive expression. "Everything all right, Ella?"
She shrugged. "Jury's out on that one, sir", she replied. "The aid station in Bastogne is gone, destroyed in the bombings last night, so we had to take a detour. But Lieutenant Welsh should be fine, sir."
He nodded. "All right." His eyes flickered into the direction Gene had disappeared in. "I see Roe's feeling better."
Ella pushed her helmet back a little and rubbed her hands together in an effort to warm them. "Yes sir, he does. I guess a hot meal and a few moments of peace were all he needed."
Her brilliant grin said it all for the Battalion XO. He knew that the small girl had been exceedingly worried about her friend and colleague and if his own relief was anything to go on, a huge weight had dropped from her shoulders when the Cajun's mind and soul had settled again, the inner turmoil coming to rest.
A huge yawn overcame the youngest medic and she hastily slapped a hand over her mouth. "Pardon me, sir", she apologised, a light blush colouring her cheeks that had nothing to do with the freezing cold.
Winters chuckled. "It's all right, Ella. Maybe you should get some sleep."
She nodded and got up. "Yes sir. I'll find myself a foxhole that is not empty. Wouldn't want Gene to get angry with me", she added, tongue-in-cheek, before waving and strolling off.
.
Ella was almost asleep when she reached a suitable foxhole. The rowdy trio, meaning Malarkey, Skip and Penkala, were inside, huddled together under their blankets. "Hey guys", she whispered, teeth chattering again already. Penkala was sleeping and he didn't even stir when the other two scooted closer to make room for their small medic. "Hi Shorty, how's it goin'?", Muck asked cheerfully.
"Eh, same old", the brunette answered, rubbing her eyes. Malarkey tucked the shivering girl into his side, Skip fussing with the blanket.
"Hey, you want some Lucky Strikes?", Malarkey offered, suddenly remembering the pack he had in his pocket.
"Nuh-uh", she mumbled, curling up and sniffing. "But I'd love a lucky streak." With that, she was asleep, head coming to rest on Skip's shoulder.
Skip grinned. "Boy, sure is funny when she's bushed like this. Filter between her brain and mouth? Poof. Gone. Remember how she told Sobel to put a sock in it, back in basic? I thought he was gonna explode."
Malarkey nodded, laughing quietly. "Yeah, with that stupid medic call response training and night exercises specifically for the medics, they were dead on their feet and that ass was yelling at them for looking tired."
"Gee, the look on his face when Shorty said that. Priceless! He puffed up like those balloons they sell at the fair."
Don smiled as he thought back to that day. "Oh yeah. Best thing is Shorty didn't even notice."
They snickered and spent the next hour reminiscing about some of the funny things they had experienced with their girl, Penkala joining them when he woke up.
There we are, this marks the end of the episode "Bastogne". I'm already working on the next one, but the way it looks, it might not be ready by next Sunday... I'll do my best, but I won't promise anything. "The Breaking Point" is a tough one, it covers about three weeks in a bit over an hour and there are so many things going on, both action- and emotion-wise.
Translations:
Nuscheli: a type of muslin cloth, can be used as almost anything. (Babies often love them just like plushies. It's a Swiss thing. Google it if you want to know more)
D sunna ish duss: The sun is out
Luag: Look
Allons-y: Let's go
Jetz ish wohl kaum dr richtig Ziitpunkt zum zynisch sii: Now is hardly the right time to be cynical
Mais fais attention, d'accord?: But be careful, alright?
Salut: Hi, hello
Bitte los es ufhöra: Please let it stop
Regarde-moi: Look at me
fröhlichi Wianachta: Merry Christmas
I hoff, es got dr guat: I hope you're well
I ha di liab: I love you (can be used between friends, family, lovers...)
bouge!: move!