In school one spends a few days, a couple weeks at the most, studying the events of WWII. This allots just enough time for the children to understand how horrible war is and how terrible humans can be to other humans. It allows us time to understand that in order to progress we need to learn from the mistakes of the past so they are not repeated in the future. Even at The Point certain battles were focused on but little time was spent on them in comparison of how long they actually lasted.
Needless to say, I had forgotten how long Operation Market Garden dragged on.
"George… George… Geor-ge… George… Geor-ge… GEORGE!"
"WHAT?" George finally whipped around from cleaning his gun to face me. "What the fuck do you want?"
"No need to be testy." I grumbled. George rubbed his temples as if he was trying to get rid of a headache.
"What is it Jo? Whadda you want?" He sighed in defeat.
"I'm bored, let's go find something to do."
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!"
0000000000000000000
"Jo? What the hell are you doing?" Nixon asked as he stepped into the light of the streetlamp. "It's freezing out here."
"George kicked me out." I frowned pointing to the house that George and I, along with a few others, had been billeted in for the night.
"What did you do?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Me? Why do you think I'm the one to blame?" I asked in astonishment. Nix gave me a look that said he knew exactly why. "I was just trying to stop him from excessively polishing his gun."
"Is that what they call it now?" Nix smirked.
"I wouldn't know, sir. I don't have those particular parts."
"Yeah," He chuckled. "I guess you don't." He lit a cigarette, "You were bored again, weren't you?"
"There's a possibility that could have been to blame…"
"Jo, only you could get bored in the middle of a war." I rolled my eyes.
"Well, excuse me. Forgive me for not understanding all this sitting around waiting. I'm used to being an officer still. I'm used to being in the thick of the planning and strategy not an enlisted who has to sit and wait for orders." I sighed dramatically. "I've never been so antsy in all my life!" Nix chuckled.
"You've got problems, kid." I groaned and dropped my head back against the wall I was sitting against.
"You have no idea, sir."
0000000000000000000
Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to fight. In fact, I found no pleasure in fighting. My hands were made to heal, but all I had really been using them for lately is to destroy and it was really starting to take a toll on me.
I felt the same darkness descending inside of me that I had felt all those years ago while still back in my time. All the missions I had been on, all the people whose lives I had ended. They all weighed heavily on my mind. You would never know it to look at me. I supposed that was why I was antsy. Back in my old life if you weren't constantly on the move, then you were dead. If you didn't kill, you would be killed. It very nearly broke me. In fact, if it wasn't for Will then I would have completely lost my sanity. I heard the sound, the cries of the dead and dying when the rest of the world was silent. I dreamt of the faces of those innocents as they reached out for me, begging me to save them from the horrible fate that awaited them. I woke up in cold sweats and silent screams. The horrors of the war I knew before still haunting me no matter how far away I got from them.
I rolled out of bed after one such nightmare covered in sweat and tangled up in the bed sheet. I laid there on the cold floor, stock still and barely breathing as I listened to the dark that surrounded me. The dream was so real, I could swear I smelt the sulphur and the blood in the air. I was afraid of what waited for me beyond the dark…
But then George let out a loud snore and I knew I wasn't in danger, I wasn't in the desert. I was in Holland in an abandoned house full of WWII soldiers. I looked outside and noticed the sun rising, painting a picture that was almost beautiful if not for the bombed out buildings that obscured the almost peaceful scene. I sighed and got dressed, finding my way downstairs to start the coffee.
"Ah, coffee! Life substance and giver of caffeine. Give me the strength to make it through the day and the grace to keep me from killing others in irritation. Lead me not into sleep, but deliver me from exhaustion. For thine is the caffeine, the creamer, and the sugar."
"Amen." I whipped around to find Roe stepping into the kitchen with an amused smile on his face. "You know, I don't recall ever learning that prayer."
"You didn't?" I asked wide eyed as I poured the boiling water into the ancient coffee maker. "I'm surprised at you, Roe. A good Catholic boy like you should have memorized all the saints." I shook my head in mock disappointment.
"Oh, that's what it is, huh?" He grinned. "And what saint is it you are praying to?"
"Well, that would be Saint Grind, patron saint of all college students." He chuckled and shook his head.
"I think that might be blasphemy." I waved it away.
"It's okay if I say, I not really into all that religion stuff anyway.." I shrugged as he laughed and grabbed one of the chipped mugs.
"You were a college student?" He asked after a moment. I dropped the mug I was holding and he grabbed it just before it hit the ground and shattered.
"Shit," I grumbled at myself. I couldn't believe I had let that slip. I mentally slapped myself as Roe set the mug down on the counter and looked at me, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
"Uh, yeah, I did… Or I was, until the war, and then." I gestured around me.
"What did you study?" He poured coffee in both mugs and handed me one then looked like he thought better of it. "You sure you can handle it?"
"I'm sure I can take it." I rolled my eyes and snatched the cup and took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid and savoring the taste. It had been so long since we had any coffee and even though this wasn't my medium roast blend and it tasted faintly of cigarette ash, it was still coffee. "Now, all we need are doughnuts and we would have a breakfast of champions on our hands here." Roe chuckled.
"So, you didn't answer my question." He prodded. "What did you study?"
"Oh, this and that." I BSed. "I had a… scholarship. So I was just kinda feeling it out, deciding what direction I wanted to take in my life." He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning up against the counter.
"Did you find anything that interested you?" He asked, just trying to make polite conversation. On the outside I shrugged, but on the inside I was desperately trying to figure out ways I could steer the conversation in less dangerous direction.
"A few things."
"Like what?"
"Um, like, uh, medicine." I smacked myself mentally.
"Really? Did you get far into your studies?" He looked almost hopeful that he would have someone with actual medical training that he could talk to. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole right then and there. Why couldn't I have just said engineering?
"Not really, just basic human anatomy really." The hopeful look fell from his eyes but he remained smiling and I wanted to kick myself. "What about you? Any plans for college?"
"Family can't afford it." He shrugged. I had forgotten that it wasn't likely that a man such as him would get the chance to go to college. It was a miracle if some of them even made it to Junior High before having to go out and get a job to support the family. I nodded and took a sip of my coffee, yelling to myself that I needed to figure out a way out of this situation.
"Hey, Jo! Whadda say, whadda you know?" George said with a yawn as he trudged into the kitchen, hair all ruffled and clothes wrinkled. I thanked the coffee God and promised I would pray to him more often.
"Not much to say, but too much to know." I replied as he literally pushed me out of the way to get to the coffee.
"I call bullshit on that." He mumbled as he poured a cup and savored it much as I had. I glared at him and he just smiled cheekily at me over his mug.
"Asshole." I muttered as I turned and escaped the uncomfortable situation I had put myself in.
I was going to have to be more careful in the future, but Roe was one of those guys that made you feel as if you could let your guard down around him. He made you feel as if you could tell him anything and everything that was bothering you and he would make everything right.
And that made Eugene "Doc" Roe a very dangerous man to be around.
0000000000000000000
It was a bit nippy out in the cool Holland morning and the sting hit my lungs as I breathed deep. A light fog was still settled around the town and added to the calming atmosphere. I sipped at my coffee, wishing I was sitting on the old front porch of my Grandparent's house in the rocker my grandpa had hand made with a blanket across my lap and the smell of bacon and eggs wafting out through the kitchen. I wished I had my tattered old gray West Point sweater to wrap around my chilled form, my worn-in Levi jeans and my worn out flip flops that I wore year round on my feet. I missed my life, I missed my friends, I missed my family. Everything was so screwed up here, this wasn't even my war! This was a war started by a generation of people I had never met. This shouldn't be my problem. I should be at home, fighting my own war, keeping my own generation safe. But I was stuck here in a place and time I didn't belong, fighting a war that I had no business fighting in.
I hadn't realized I'd been biting my lip until the metallic taste filled my mouth. I spat out the blood and felt the sting of an open wound on my lip.
"Fuck." I growled. I needed a cigarette… bad.
I patted my pockets for the pack I usually traveled with thinking about what my family would say if they could see the bad habit I had come to lean on for comfort. My brother would be horrified, my dad would be furious, my oma would cry, my opa would say, 'Life's a bitch, light one up,' then bum one off of me.
I'm pretty sure I took after him.
"Shit." I muttered, realizing my pack set atop the dresser in the bedroom George and I were sharing. I looked back up at the house and decided against trudging up the stairs to get to them. I sighed and leant against the railing of the stoop turning my head to the west as I let the sun that was finally starting to break through the fog warm my chilled form. I closed my eyes and imagined that I was in New Mexico in the house that shi'nali hastii owned, sitting on the side of the cliff with the sun bouncing off the mesas, painting the world in colors of red, orange and purple. I imagined I was at the ranch in Colorado, waiting for breakfast and throwing sarcastic comments back and forth with opa while oma rolled her icy blue eyes and muttered insults about us in German.
I imagined I was wrapped in the warm embrace of my brother as he comforted me and chased away all the bad dreams. I imagined I was home.
"Sgt. Benally." I was rudely snapped out of my daydream and opened my eyes to see the Lieutenant from Dog Company looming over me.
"Lt. Speirs." I straightened up and nodded to the imposing figure.
"Where's your CO?" He asked.
"He's billeted at the house down the street, the one with the red front door, sir." I pointed it out. He nodded and took out a pack of cigarettes.
"You want one?" He asked me. I shrugged and nodded.
"Thank you, sir." I brought it up to my lips and he lit it with a match before lighting his own.
He said nothing, only nodded his head and left, making his way down to the house with the red door.
"Oh, Lieutenant?" I called out to him. He turned and looked back at me. "How are Davis and Michaels?" I asked as the faces of the two privates from D Company I had met during the Operation Overlord sprang to mind.
"Michaels is dead." He answered flatly, no trace of emotion on his face. "Killed in the same attack that lost Davis his left arm. They were in a foxhole together when a grenade landed in it. Michaels threw himself on it, blocking it from killing Davis and two others."
"I'm sorry, sir." He shrugged.
"Nothing to be sorry about. Soldiers die in war. It's a reality that every soldier must face. There is no certainty other than death and we have to decide how we want to die. Michaels decided he would die saving his friends."
"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." I mumbled the quote to myself. He tilted his head and gazed at me the cold calculation of a lion before it pounces on the unsuspecting gazelle. I knew in that moment that I was that gazelle. He was studying me, determining if I was worth the effort or if I was easy pickings. He stared at me, stared through me. I held his gaze puffing coolly on my cigarette but mentally I shivered. He nodded and gave me a smile that chilled me, before making his way to the house with the red door.
"Jesus Jo." I turned at the sound of George's voice to see him and Roe staring at me from the doorway. "If Speirs was looking at me like that I think I would have crap my pants."
"Gross, George." I made a face of disgust. "You could have kept that to yourself and I would have lived the rest of my life content without knowing that little tidbit of knowledge about you." He shrugged.
"I'm a sharer Jo, I share things with people." He laughed and I just rolled my eyes.
"Yáadilá t'a'iiyahii." I mumbled. He and Roe looked at me like I was crazy.
"What did you just say?" George asked with narrowed eyes. I walked up the stairs and punched his arm.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
0000000000000000000
Translations
Opa: German for Grandpa
Oma: German for Grandma
shi'nali hastii: Navajo for Fraternal Grandfather
Yáadilá t'a'iiyahii: Literal translation means 'to be a butthead,' in Navajo.
I hope you liked this little interlude. I wanted something that would show a little bit more about Benny and her train of thought as well as showing that, while she is young, she has seen so much that it has aged her mentally. In this chapter I let you get a little insight into the life that Jo had back in her time and the things other than the war that makes her who she is. I also wanted to lay some groundwork for further chapters.
Thank you all for reading and I hope you are enjoying this as much as I enjoy writing it.
Amanda
Edited 8/13/17