Part 8- The Last Patrol

Author's note: thanks to everyone for reading and to everyone who reviewed. Next chapter: this one was kinda hard because, for the first time in the series, their platoons were important and emphasized on the show (most of 2nd platoon was on the patrol), but I never really knew where to put Griest. I wanted her to be in the same platoon as Luz and a few others, but it was never specified where Luz was placed, so I left it intentionally vague. We are getting near the end, and I am thinking about doing a sequel, so let me know if you guys think I should or not. Thanks and enjoy this chapter.

"Keep your head up. God gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers"- Zig Ziglar

"Hello, Easy," Webster called as he walked beside the moving trucks; after a few hours, the battered company had finally reached Haguenau. Webster had been injured about four months ago in Holland and was just rejoining the company now. Most of the company never even recognized him.

"Holy shit," Griest hissed from one of the trucks as Webster smiled at her.

"You missed me, Chucky?"

"No, no, I just forgot our uniforms were brown." Griest sneezed before she looked down at her splotched, dark grey, almost black sleeves. She slapped the material but the dirt, mud, and whatever else clung to her. She looked at Webster with growing resentment; his uniform was a bright brown while all his whites gleamed and the colours shone proudly. His face was full and healthy without a speck of dirt. His hair appeared soft and fluffy, even his helmet contained only two dents and was freshly painted. She scowled and looked at the men around her. They were all hunched over or leaning against the truck with ghostly faces and dark circles under their eyes. Their uniforms mirrored hers with dark blemishes that obstructed the brown colour, staining it a smokey grey. Their patches were covered in mud and unrecognizable, even Roe's white medic band was black. Their helmets were dented and scratched as if they had been washed by a wire cloth making the metal dull, and the paint chipped. All their hair was long, curled, and greasy. Griest's bun had doubled in size from the months of built up oil and dirt. They all stunk of sweat and a suffocating body odour. The men's faces were dark and hidden under numerous layers of dirt and grime. Only their eyes glimmered white amidst the filth, but even they were dull like coal.

"Oh, well..." Webster's smile faltered as he brushed his jacket feeling her eyes on him hot like the sun. He waved and walked to the next truck looking for his friends and trying to find a new spot on a platoon. With all the casualties, promotions, and wounds from Bastogne, the platoons shifted and were re-arranged constantly.

"Jesus," Luz exclaimed as he watched Webster approach Malarkey in the truck ahead of them. "I kinda forgot he existed."

Griest sneezed loudly and wiped her nose as she scrunched up her face. "I think he forgot we existed."

Griest settled into the building they were staying at. The walls were made of grey, cracked cement, which shook every time a German artillery shell hit the ground. A cold breeze blew through the cracks carrying dirt and soil, and smelled musty like black mold. However, it wasn't a foxhole and it was indoors; hell, to the soldiers of Easy, it was a five star hotel. There were two bunk beds in a room pressed against a shabby wall. The beds were small and uncomfortable; they could feel the springs under the mattress, and both beds trembled whenever someone moved or shifted, but they weren't complaining. She dumped her stuff on her bunk and went outside leaning against a cracked building.

Haguenau was a lot warmer than Bastogne but there was a thin layer of snow covering the surrounding grass. The roads in the town were mud causing the snow to melt on impact but Griest knew it would freeze overnight to create a makeshift hockey rink. Sandbags were placed along the sidewalks to provide cover from the German artillery that rained down randomly keeping Easy on their toes. Both sides would exchange artillery fire to deter everyone from doing anything stupid. The Germans were located on the other side of a small river in their own cracked buildings and flimsy bunk beds. Easy had constant patrols going on to ensure no Germans invaded the camp; however, everyone was tired. Griest was certain the Germans were just as comfortable on their side of the river as Easy was on theirs.

She sat there for about ten minutes before Webster and a tall, skinny guy came running towards her. They would crouch down and sprint between sandbags as she sat there chewing K-rations watching them with growing amusement.

"You drop something, Web?" She called as the duo ducked down once again. Webster glanced up at her as she grinned; he was nervous to be back. Then she sneezed and wiped her nose.

"You sick?" He asked as they stood up and joined her. Webster jutted his bottom jaw forward as he tilted his head and adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. "We saw Lipton, is pneumonia going around?"

"Nope, admitting you're sick is to surrender. I'm not sick, just have-" she sneezed and snorted snot back. "Whatcha guys doing? Who is he?" She regarded Jones suspiciously as she stepped away from the building and stood tall. Her hand moved to her sheathed knife at her belt as she clenched her teeth together. Webster made a face and stepped back noticing the knife handle by her fingers. He wasn't there during Mourmelon.

"Private Griest, meet Lieutenant Jones," Webster introduced as Griest nodded at Jones and flashed him what was supposed to be a smile. Instead, it looked like a mix between a grimace, scowl, yawn, and sniffles. Webster noted the hollow look in her eyes and leanness in her face. She was always lanky but not to that extent.

"Private Griest, I've heard a lot about you." Jones offered his hand as she took a small step back and crossed her arms. Then she shook it with a firm grip.

"Well don't worry, half of what you heard was probably bullshit. Let's see: I am a real girl, I have not broken the non-fraternizing policy, I have shot my weapon in combat, and I am a damn good soldier," she promised with a wink. She slouched forward but kept her hand close to her knife.

"I have heard a mix of things, but I am here to create my own opinions of you." He nodded as Griest's grin grew; she was okay with him.

"Is OP 2 this way?" Webster asked as he pointed down the road. Griest stuck a piece of gum in her mouth as a German mortar whistled through the air.

"Down!" She pushed Webster down, who took Jones with him, as Griest jumped over the sandbags and leaned against them casually.

"So how was the hospital?" She yelled as the shell hit the ground several yards away. Part of a building erupted as stone and shrapnel fell down on them. Webster and Jones threw their hands over their heads as Griest brushed some dust off her blackened pants.

"You know, it was a hospital. How was Basto-"

"You looking for OP 2? I was headed that way myself to see the guys, c'mon." She jumped up and walked away from them so they wouldn't see the panic in her eyes. The two men ran after her.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Webster pulled an object from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it in her hands and paused for a moment as she inhaled shortly.

"This is Warren's." Her tone was light, airy, and reminiscent. Skip's favourite possession was his deck of playing cards with a picture of a pin-up girl. She was completely nude with the exception of a small nursing hat and a stethoscope that hung between her ample bosoms.

"Yeah, he let me borrow it but I was sent out before I could return it. I haven't seen him yet; can you return it for me?"

"No," she spat quickly dropping the deck back into his hands as if it were a live grenade. She turned on her heels and continued at an even faster pace.

"What, why not? C'mon, help me out," he complained. Griest faced them as she gritted her teeth together. Her eyes were a sharp grey colour that flashed in warning. She shook her head and looked down at her hands before squeezing her eyes shut as if trying to block out a memory.

"OP 2 is one more block that way. Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Webster, glad you're back." She pointed down the road before she hurried back the way they came.

"What the hell, Chucky? Did you two fight? You PMSing?" They dealt with that, and it was not a pleasant experience for anyone. She was moody, confrontational, hungry, sore, and stole all the chocolate. However, that time was hard enough for any women, but even more so when sitting in a foxhole for ten hours to avoid German weaponry, shrapnel, and tree splinters. Griest would go around stealing whatever supplies or cloth she could find, but it was hard in a place where food was in short supply, let alone supplies for a single member of the entire Allied military. Griest ignored Webster and the lieutenant as she kept on walking. Roe exited one of the houses as Bill Kiehn showed Roe his new found booty: potatoes.

"What's her problem, Doc?" Webster asked. Roe stared at her retreating figure then looked at the cards. He pressed his lips together as his eyebrows fell.

"Sergeant Muck's dead," he said as he adjusted his med kit against his leg. Web looked up as he nodded slowly. While he was at the hospital, he imagined Easy to be the way he left it. He expected the same men, same sergeants, and same comradeship. He never believed Easy would change or lose someone.

"I didn't know. I wasn't there." Roe gave him and look and nodded.

"Ya, we noticed."

Griest was waiting at battalion HQ to grab supplies along with the rest of second platoon. They had showers earlier; it was a wish come true and took Griest almost three minutes to get all the numerous layer of dirt off her face. In the end, her face was pale and clean for the first time since Mourmelon. Webster thought she looked like a ghost but he kept that to himself.

Griest was one of the rare people who wasn't chosen for the patrol. Most soldiers would be ecstatic at that news, but she wasn't. She talked with Malarkey trying to secure herself a spot but Malark had no choice in the matter, she'd have to discuss it with the officers.

On the way to the showers, Bill Kiehn had been killed by a German mortar. Everyone ran in the direction of the cry, "MEDIC!" but it was too late; Kiehn was already dead. Griest watched as Roe slumped over the body as his eyes dropped in defeat. There was nothing he could have done, Roe knew that, but doubts and what ifs filled his head. The medic handed Christenson Kiehn's dog tags. Griest watched Webster's blank, worried stare as he thought bleakly; war was different from the hospital and he needed to adjust to it again.

Malarkey herded the platoon to the showers after Roe pronounced Kiehn dead. Losing someone was horrible especially your friends, but everyone's first thought was, thank God it wasn't me. They could all feel the end of the war coming. Going home was no longer a dream or a bedtime story, but something attainable if they kept their heads down and made smart choices, something the patrol went against.

Martin and Cobb were already at the CP when Griest arrived with Liebgott, Webster, and Jones. Luz, who was Lip's runner for a few days, and Vest were organizing the new supplies including chocolate bars, cigarettes, and Juicy Fruit.

"Whoa, Hershey bars!" Liebgott exclaimed as Luz pulled the chocolate bars away from the men rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

"Jesus, they're not for you!" Luz growled as he placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth. Griest protested along with the others as she sat down on the corner of the cluttered desk.

"C'mon, Luz, one bar," she pushed.

"No, there's not enough to go around!"

"Is Captain Speirs here?" Jones asked nonchalant about the Fight for Hershey. After four months of surviving on K-rations and snow with lemonade flavoured juice packets, he would understand.

"He's by the river, sir," Luz responded as he smacked Lieb's hand away.

"Hey, bigmouth, give the kid a Hershey bar." Everyone looked over as Perconte limped into the room. They all grinned and laughed as Luz tossed Perc a coveted chocolate bar.

"Why does he get one?" Liebgott growled as Griest slipped some Juicy Fruit into her pocket and shoved one stick into her mouth.

"He got shot in the ass!" Luz pointed out as Perc limped forward admiring the room; it was a nice change from the snow and forest of Bastogne.

Jones made a confused face so Griest explained, "An Easy tradition, so watch your ass, literally." She turned to Perconte, "How ya feeling?"

"I'll be fine, but it'd heal faster if you kissed it better." He smiled wickedly as the guys chuckled and urged her on.

"Sorry, Perco, but that's not my specialty; talk to Dike, he'll have to be a great ass kisser to keep climbing the ladder." They all looked down and grumbled angrily at the mention of their previous CO.

"Who?" Webster asked as Liebgott looked at him.

"Oh ya, you were lucky enough to miss that son of a bitch."

"Lieb," Griest hissed in a warning tone as she narrowed her eyes and arched an eyebrow. Liebgott stared back at her but wisely kept his mouth shut. Martin walked over to Perconte and began joking with him trying to slap his ass.

"Can you believe this kid? Try to get him outta the war, but he goes AWOL and comes right back," Martin chuckled.

Griest opened her mouth but ended up sneezing a few times causing all the men to step back as if she had the plague. She sniffled and wiped her nose with a groan before she looked at Jones and explained in a sick, tired voice, "Going AWOL from the hospital is another Easy tradition. Mostly."

"I heard the Krauts were finished," Perconte mussed as he limped towards them. Griest offered him her seat but he shook his head. Instead, he rested his elbow on her shoulders and began flicking her bun. Griest elbowed his ribs as the two began pushing and shoving another good naturedly.

"Well, to be sure, we gotta row across the river tonight, grab a few, and ask them in person," Liebgott muttered with a straight face as Perc and Griest called it a draw, but mostly because Perc knew Griest was going to kick his ass next. His literal, sore, recovering, gunshot ass. Griest looked away from Perco and towards Liebgott; his face had grown longer and had more lines since the beginning of the war. He aged several years, Griest noticed sadly. She figured they all aged from everything they went through, she probably looked like an old maid.

"You kidding me?" The smile left Perconte's face as he looked around at them. The room grew quiet as they all looked down nervously.

"Wish I was. Welcome back, Frank," Lieb said lowly. Luz gave Webster some grenades for the patrol later that night. Luz then decided to leave the supplies under Perconte's watch to go blow up some Kraut's house. Webster, Vest, Jones, and Griest went with him to talk to Captain Winters about the patrol. As they left, the remaining men attacked the supplies.

"Luz, you need a haircut." Griest reached up and flicked his bangs that hung lowly in front of his eyes.

"Yeah, well, if you see a barber shop lying around, book me in." They found Winters near the edge of the town with Speirs going over the plan. Jones talked to them first, then Vest as Griest stared across the river. They both walked past her with triumphant grins when Griest approached the two captains.

"Captain Winters," she began.

"Let me guess, you wanna go on the patrol?" Speirs offered as he crossed his arms. Griest nodded and returned her gaze to Winters. He had recently shaved and showered making him look younger and more like himself, but he was still tired.

Griest sneezed before she continued, "Captain, I am a Toccoa girl and have been here since the beginning; I have combat experience, sir, and I think it would be beneficial for this... this... this... ACHOOO!" She sneezed violently as she shot her head forward with enough force that her helmet fell off her head and rolled through the mud. Winters stopped her helmet with his boot as she sniffled and rubbed her nose raw.

"Patrol," she concluded and grabbed her helmet as she wiped the mud off onto her jacket before putting it back onto her head.

"I am not doubting your experience, Chucky," he assured, "but you're sick; I can hear you sneezing on the other side of town. You sneezing during a night, recon patrol would put you and the men at risk. I will not take that unnecessary risks, Private, not now." Griest looked like she would argue but she sneezed instead. She kept her hand on her helmet to keep it from falling off again.

"Besides, you have been in all those battles, I think you could do with a break," Winters added.

"Fine," she sighed as she bit her teeth together and nodded. "Sir, could I have a moment with Captain Speirs, please?" Winters glanced between the two and nodded as he turned and walked back into town. Speirs lead her along the river aware of the snipers the Germans had set up.

"Do-" she broke off and sneezed three times back to back. She groaned and wiped her nose again as the tender skin burned.

"Sounds like you're getting worse. Do you have the same thing as Lip?" Speirs asked but Griest shook her head and snorted snot back noisily.

"No, sir, just sitting half frozen in a hole filled with urine and shit with no food or winter clothing for a few months." She shook her head.

"So what do you want to talk about, Henri?" Speirs called her the same thing he'd called her at home; Henri, not Chucky, and not Henrietta, only Roe called her that. Griest regarded her cousin as she bit her lip. Both their mothers were sisters and looked like twins; however, Griest took after her mother while Speirs only inherited his mother's jawline. He was average height but had lost a lot of weight. Like Luz, Speirs' dark bangs had grown longer and went to his dark eyebrows that were hidden by his low-riding helmet. No one would guess they were related but believed it in the way they acted in battle.

"Do you know what tomorrow is?" She asked quietly as she stared down at her feet. Speirs stopped as he glanced up at her with his dark eyes.

"Of course I do. Is that why you're here and why you want on this patrol?"

"Whaddya mean by that?" Griest's eyebrows dropped as she crossed her arms and sneezed.

"Is Chris the reason you joined the army? You couldn't protect Chris during the war so you got yourself some new brothers and you're trying to protect them. That's why you want on this patrol." He spoke calmly as his deep voice resonated. His one eyebrow dropped as he narrowed his eyes. Speirs' voice was mostly flat but rose with curiosity.

Griest blinked and looked at her trembling hands but crossed her arms to hide them from Speirs' all-seeing gaze. She considered her men to be her family, brothers except Winters who was paternal figure, and Roe who was... Easy Company were her boys and she was protective of them, just as they were for her. She had been with them for years; they were the only people she saw daily anymore. Griest protected them and they protected her, but she never thought they were a substitution for Chris.

"I don't know," she mumbled looking up at him as she sniffled back snot, "does it matter?"

"I guess not," Speirs hummed. He walked off to finish the planning and prepare for the patrol. Griest looked at the river and up at the German side. To everyone else, the war was winding down; back home, people were visiting theaters and vacationing; but, in combat, the war felt endless. She shook her head and thought of her family in New York. Then, with a sigh, she headed back into town to find her new family.

Griest went on a perimeter patrol with Bull, Talbert, and a few other replacements for about twenty minutes. They found nothing, which was exactly what they wanted. She killed a few hours talking with Roe and Luz before going to bed. She woke up promptly at 0045 to find most of the other bunks empty. She exited the room and climbed to the balcony on the highest floor. The house was nearby the river but too far for the patrol and Germans to hear her sneezing, she checked with Luz earlier. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and laid her rifle within reach. She was sweating profusely. At 0100 hours on the dot, she could hear the men enter the boats and begin to paddle across the river. She could picture Liebgott at the machine gun chewing gum furiously. Martin would be silent but would have that fierce expression on his face. Shifty would be tapping his foot, and Web would be staring at the ground swallowing hard. She could see the grass moving in the wind and feel the humid air against her skin. For a second, she believed she was in the boats with them.

"So this is what you do when you're not on a mission, you're supervising it," Speirs muttered as Griest jumped grabbing her knife.

"Captain Speirs," she acknowledged, "is there something you need, sir?"

"No, Private, I just wanted to talk." He sat down beside her and looked out into the night. There was a full moon causing the river to reflect the light making the boat and Easy men stand out; however, there was a growing fog that helped to hide them. The Krauts had spotlights cutting through the mist and occasional flares, which would light up the ground as if it were daylight. One of the boats capsized but, luckily, went unnoticed by the Germans.

"How's your mom? Did she do anything special?" He asked. With the time change between Haguenau and New York, the day would already be almost over for her mother.

"She would have gone to his tombstone and put flowers on an empty box. She would cry, which Uncle Ben would ignore, then, at 1100, she would go home and cook some ham, mashed potatoes, corn, and apple pie for dessert."

"His favourite meal," Speirs pointed out. Griest nodded and gnawed on her lip.

"Uncle Ben would eat about two platefuls. Mom wouldn't eat any of it. When Uncle Ben was full, she would throw it all away. Then she'd sit in his room and re-read every letter he ever sent home crying. It'd be around 2300 hours when she finished and she'd go to bed." Griest stared straight ahead as her fingers twitched nervously. Her stomach felt as if it were buzzing like it contained a beehive as she sneezed. "You do anything?"

"I have a drink for him. You?"

"No," she shook her head. "I just think of him and do what should be done." She looked at Speirs and smiled, "You know, you've changed since..."

"So have you," he glanced down at her, "before, you were some eager, tag-a-long, little girl who wanted to prove you could do anything. You were loud, obnoxious, and you had no focus, no vision."

"And now?" She asked arching her eyebrows before she sneezed three times. Speirs scooted away watching her diseased hands with a cautious scowl.

"You have a goal and people to protect. You're stronger, less annoying, and deadlier. You've become a warrior. You also don't smile as much." He looked down at her with a fierce, strong look but Griest could see a glimmer of fondness and amusement dancing in his eyes. Griest nodded and pursed her lips; when her mother read that letter from the British Air Force, a small part of Griest died; the child within her joined her brother. She still laughed, smiled, and joked but it wasn't like before. Her smile was darker like a shadow. Easy brought her closer to that part, closer than she ever thought possible but she'd never regain it completely.

"I didn't think I was that annoying or obnoxious," she grumbled with a small smile as Speirs gave her that look.

"And loud?" He asked.

"No, I was loud."

"I'm going to bed; I suspect you'll wait until they return. See you later, Henri." Speirs got up and walked away as Griest looked across the river with a pounding heart. There was nothing but silence.

As children, Speirs and Chris were great friends; they were always playing War or writing letters. Even when the Griests lived in Vancouver, Speirs would stay them with for a month before Chris would go with him to New York, and later Boston.

They complemented another. Chris was bright, enthusiastic, loyal, funny, and compelling. He was always laughing and teasing everyone. Luz reminded her of Chris for that reason. But, he was also strong and protective like Guarnere and Lipton; he looked after Griest and made sure she never did anything too stupid, or at least, that she didn't do anything too stupid alone. People loved Chris because of his charisma, they loved to follow him. He was like the sun. Speirs, on the other hand, was like the moon. He was just as important as Chris, but different. He was always quiet and observed everything with keen eyes. He had a strong sense of humour and still held onto that by offering people cigarettes, even with the rumours surrounding him. Speirs was fiercely intelligent and had the drive to see his ideas come to life; he always came up with the plans and Chris made sure they got away with it. People loved Speirs because of his mind, fierceness, and mysterious nature. Speirs was definitely the brains but Chris was the charm. Although they were opposites, they worked well with another. They pushed each other to do better and motivated the other. They were best friends.

When the war first began in 1939, the two planned for the war even though the USA announced their neutrality. They both planned to join the army together, train together, and be in the same company. Griest could see Chris being a staff sergeant beloved by the enlisted men, like Lipton. However, he'd never go any higher; he would hate the politics and bureaucracy involved with the commissioned officers. The cousins both swore they'd fight together and have each other's backs. But then, Betty Griest was let go as a teacher's aide and had to take a job as a waitress; however, even with the extra shifts, money became a huge concern. Chris joined the British Air Force to help his mother, abandoning his dream of fighting beside his best friend.

Griest believed Speirs had some resentment towards Chris for leaving him behind. Nevertheless, they mailed each other constantly, almost more than Chris mailed his mother. It was Griest who told Speirs of Chris' death. He was quiet, even more so than usual, said, "okay", and then hung up the phone. With Chris gone, Speirs stopped visiting Griest and her mother; Griest thought maybe it was too painful.

Now, he was even quieter, fiercer, and more imposing. He seemed angrier, as if he blamed Chris for leaving him to live alone, or maybe towards himself for not being able to protect Chris. His tactical mind was sharper, he was stronger, and even more motivated than before. He was a soldier through and through. Griest couldn't remember the last time she had seen him genuinely smile.

She looked up as a grenade detonated in one of the German houses. She listened to the shouting before rifles began firing. German machine guns returned fire as orange, red, and green tracer round cut through the fog and the spotlights zoned in on the men. Griest stood up and grabbed her rifle as her finger tapped against the trigger guard. Her shoulders tensed into her neck as she hissed curses under her breath; watching was a lot worse than doing the actual fighting.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" She growled as a whistle echoed over the river. Liebgott and the other machine guns provided covering fire as the patrol began their retreat.

Griest ran out of the building and into the street as the fog coated her skin and clothes. Her earlier prediction had come true; the melted snow had frozen creating a thin layer of ice on the ground. She tried to stop but her feet slid on the icy ground before she landed hard on her ass. She scrambled up and kept running towards the river until she saw the patrol. She stopped and watched as they ran towards her. They managed to secure two prisoners but they were carrying a wounded man between them. She looked at each shadow identifying them with ease. The wounded man was Jackson. Jackson was hurt.

"Liebgott," she called as she ran beside him and helped carry Jackson into the basement of one of the houses. They placed the man on one of the tables as Griest pulled a bandage out of Jackson's med kit. The left side of his face was burned as blood gushed from the numerous holes in his neck. Griest pressed the bandage against his wounds as Martin left to find Roe, but she barely noticed.

"C'mon, Jackson, you're fine," she cooed hoping to soothe the man. He was crying out in pain and kicking his legs as Liebgott and Webster held them down. Griest glanced up quickly as Vest pulled his pistol on the prisoners but Jones and Babe pulled the gun away. Satisfied that he was under control, Griest went to the head of the table and smiled down at Jackson as she slipped her free hand into his.

"You'll be okay, Doc's on his way," she said in an even tone as she squeezed his hand.

At the same time, Web looked up and shouted, "Where the fuck is Doc?" She threw him a dirty look and continued consoling Jackson.

Roe ran into the room as the yelling, arguing, fighting, and crying ceased. They all grew silent as Griest moved from Jackson's head to his side allowing Roe to stand at the head of the table. They all anxiously waited ready to follow his every word without any hesitation.

The medic leaned down and inspected Jackson with a calm, trained eye. His eyebrows fell, his lips formed a tight, straight line, and his shoulders hunched slightly. Even his fingers were taut. Griest bit her lip; Roe was doing well to hide his fears and uncertainty, but she knew him well enough to know he was worried. Griest swallowed hard and felt her muscles tense as she prepared herself for anything.

Damn, I could have stopped this if I was on the patrol, she thought bitterly, but she knew her words were lies. If anything, she would have put them at a greater risk, just as Winters said, but she still felt a wave of anger and helplessness as the dreaded what if plagued her mind.

"Let's get him outta here," Roe said calmly and gently revealing none of his fears and worries. They all gathered around to help the medic as they lifted Jackson up, but the earlier serenity was shattered. Jackson began crying out fearfully as he gripped Griest's hand tightly and grabbed Roe's jacket with his other hand. They were all forced to put Jackson down on the floor as he began choking and coughing on his own blood.

"I don't wanna die, Gene!" He wailed between coughs. His voice sent shivers down everyone's backs as they all looked on helplessly waiting for some miracle to save their friend.

"You're not going to die. I need you to hang on! Jackson!" Roe shouted in a tight, strangled voice but there was nothing he could do. Jackson's eyes grew dark losing the light, the life in them as his tongue relaxed in his open mouth. Jackson's hand slacked in Griest's as her mouth hung open.

Please, not today. Any day but today, please! But no one had been answering her prayers for years. Roe pulled off his helmet and let it fall to the ground before he looked up at Babe. Then he shifted his gaze to Griest. She noticed his face had also grown longer and had extra lines while his dark eyes were a shadow, a memory of what they once were. She thought of the majestic buck she saw the first time she laid eyes on Roe. She didn't see that young, confident, whole man anymore; now he was wounded, smaller, older, and less of himself. She now saw a deer with frazzled fur marked with scars and wounds, damaged. The image melted away as his shoulders sagged in defeat. Griest looked down at her hand still clutching Jackson. Martin walked over and placed a blanket over the body as Vest collapsed against the wall sobbing. He wanted to go on the patrol so badly; Griest wondered if he regretted that choice.

The room was quiet as the men stared at the blanket that covered the body that was once their friend. Griest couldn't handle the overwhelming silence that began to press against her suffocating her. She stood up and walked out squeezing Roe's shoulder as she passed him, her way of assuring him without words. She walked to her bunk in a daze as the frost nipped at her nose and cheeks. She leaned her rifle against her bunk as she sniffled and sneezed twice. She made a face as her nose filled with snot.

"How'd it go?" Luz, who was on the top bunk, asked. Griest paused as she pushed her bottom jaw forward and exhaled deeply.

"Jackson's dead." Her tone was acidic as she crawled into bed causing Luz's bed to shake like an earthquake. She never even bothered to take her boots off. She fell asleep with Jackson's blood drying on her hands.

She woke up later on that day and conducted another perimeter patrol with Bull, Talbert, and Perconte. News of Jackson's death spread quickly lowering the men's morale as they conducted the patrol in silence. The higher up officers were worried the Germans would retaliate and try to cross the river onto their side, so security was heightened and the patrols were doubled.

"Hey, Chucky, you were there, right?" Perc asked.

"Huh?" Griest looked up as the trio gave her a look; she had been staring at the ground and unaware of their current conversation; in fact, she didn't remember the first half of the patrol, or what they had seen, done, or talked about. Perconte repeated his question giving Bull and Talbert a look; it wasn't like her to be this absent-minded. She nodded and looked at the mud and her stained trousers. She had only managed to sleep for a few hours and spent most of the night tossing and turning.

"Was he in pain?" Griest knew Babe, Martin, Lieb, Skinny, or Web might have told them the truth, but it didn't stop her.

"No," she lied looking up at the fellow Toccoa men. "He felt nothing."

They carried on for a few minutes talking quietly mostly to fill the silence as Griest anxiously looked at her watch every few minutes. Bull gave her a look and called her out, "You expectin' a call, Chucky?"

"What? No, just curious what time it was." They finished the patrol and returned to the town and spread out. Griest visited and spoke with Luz for a bit before she found herself sitting on a giant pile of rubble and leaning against a building. The night patrol had left a wounded Kraut on the river bank thinking he was too far gone to be worth the risk, but he survived the night and was screaming for help. Griest listened to him cry out and scream with a growing scowl as she pulled her knees to her chest. Each cry reminded her of Jackson and the way his voice crackled and shrilled in fear. She swallowed hard and tucked her nose between her knees.

"Hey, Gene," she muttered as the medic walked up to her. She slid over as he sat down beside her on the rubble. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," he lied. There were dark circles under his eyes as his eyelids drooped, practically falling asleep on his feet. His entire body was stooping lower and lower as if he were being pulled down by a string. He was exhausted. Griest pulled out the Hershey bar she managed to obtain when Luz wasn't watching, and cracked it in half. She offered one of the halves to Roe as she watched him. His eyes fell as he held his breath and grew as still as stone. After Bastogne, chocolate made him tired and sad, but she didn't know why.

"Take it," she ordered and held it in front of his face. She would not take no for an answer, and he knew it. He took it and slowly ate it as the chocolate cracked and crunched in his mouth. The corner of Griest's mouth turned upright; she hadn't seen him eat for a while either. She pocketed the other half and thought of Vest.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked as the sugary, creamy dessert coated the inside of his mouth making his voice deeper and even more euphoric.

"Who says I'm thinking about something?" She countered as she raised an eyebrow and glanced up at him. He swallowed and pointed at her helmet resting on the top of her knee.

"Whenever something's buggin' you, you always have ya helmet on ya knee," he explained. She opened her mouth to argue but shut it as she crossed her arms listening to the Kraut scream for help.

For God's sake, just kill him and give us some quiet, she hissed internally gritting her teeth as she felt Roe's eyes on her wearing her down. They were soft like water but water broke down stone. She looked down at her watch and bit her lip as she began tapping her foot. It was almost 1700 hours; only six more hours and fifty minutes...

She sighed heavily as she pushed the stray hairs away from her face. Roe leaned closer to her with an open, accepting expression pressing the side of his body against hers. Finally, she began speaking hesitantly with a fluttering voice, "Today is the day my brother-"

"Doc Roe." A voice sounded as Griest jumped up grabbing her knife. Roe jumped up with her, but he held his arm protectively in front of her. She didn't know if that was to protect her or the man who called to them. Griest exhaled slowly and sheathed her blade as she looked past Roe to her cousin, who watched them both with curious, yet fierce and imposing eyes. Speirs glanced between them and continued, "Doc, could I speak with Private Griest alone?"

Roe glanced at Griest and nodded. She looked into those deep eyes of his before he walked away leaving the cousins alone. Griest futilely tried slapping the dirt off her jacket as she grabbed her helmet from the mud.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" She rubbed her mud covered helmet against her pants and put it back on as she grabbed her rifle.

"Come with me." He turned around and walked off without waiting for a response. Griest followed him into the battalion CP where Luz and Lipton were. Lip looked better than yesterday as she flashed them both a strained smile and walked into a room near the back of the building. Speirs closed the door behind her then pulled a bottle of amber coloured liquid from a desk along with two small glasses.

"Drink with me." He filled the glasses and gave her one. "To Chris, the best man I know."

"Chris." They both raised their glasses as she drowned the liquor in one gulp. It burned down her throat and smoldered in her stomach, but she savoured the rich, oaky taste and the warmth it gave. She licked her lips and gave Speirs her glass to refill.

"They're doing another patrol," he muttered as the liquor sloshed into the glass. "And you're not going, so don't even ask; you kept me awake all night with your sneezing."

"Where are they setting off?" She asked taking the drink.

"Same place. Everything is the same except the target house and the time."

"Jesus fucking Christ, you are going to get those men killed," she hissed then shot the liquor throwing her head back. Speirs nodded sadly as he set his glass down on the table.

"It's out of my hands; I have to go talk to Winters and brief the men. Henri, get some real sleep tonight, you look like shit." He left the room and closed the door behind him. Griest stared at the bottle wantingly but looked out the window instead as the timed explosions detonated; the Kraut house exploded and fell to the earth in fire and rubble. She watched as the dust dissipated as she ground her teeth together tightly before she left the room. She waved farewell to Luz and Lipton but paused at the door.

"Hey, Luz, if you see Vest can you give this to him?" She tossed the remaining chocolate bar at her friend who caught it with ease.

"Whoa, when did you get this?"

"Just give it to him, I'll give you the next bar I get, okay? He needs it, George. Please." Her eyebrows drew together as she tilted her head slightly. Her chest ached and felt hollow as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Hey, I'm just teasing, of course I'll give it to Vest," he assured gently lowering his hands to his sides.

"Henri, are you alright?" Lipton asked standing up from the dusty couch. Griest bit the inside of her mouth until she could taste blood, then she bit down harder.

"Today just needs to go by faster. I'll see you guys later. Feel better, Lip." She hurried out of the CP and crawled back onto her pile of rocks. She ignored the men who passed her and retreated into her thoughts until the sun began to set.

At 2345, she walked to the balcony and pulled a blanket over her shoulders as her body trembled and her teeth chattered, but she wasn't cold. She looked over the river where the Germans were on high alert; the spotlights were cutting through air faster as flares shot off into the sky more frequently. The moon was still bright piercing through the thick clouds, but, this time, there was no fog to conceal the patrol.

And we're sending 15 guys- good guys- over there. She pulled a stale cookie out from her pocket and placed it on top of a grey napkin, it was once white... Two months ago. Alton More was the scrounging master of Easy and managed to obtain the cookie for the price of three cigarette packages; however, the cookie resembled a thick, old cracker more than anything. Oh well, beggars couldn't be picky.

After five minutes, she leaned over the cookie and pulled the blanket over her body and secured it on the ground to create a small cave. Satisfied no light would escape, she lit a match and stuck it in the center of the dessert.

She began to sing softly. Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, but only grew worse as tears and sobs ravaged her body, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Chris... Wish you were still here." She blew out his candle as her lip quivered. The ache in her chest turned to a sharp stabbing sensation as a short wail escaped her. She gritted her teeth and held herself tightly. She laid down beside the makeshift dessert as she pulled the blanket back and looked heavenward.

A lone star peeked out from behind a wall of clouds and twinkled down at her, as if waving like a brother. She chuckled remembering all the times the siblings snuck out of the house, crawled onto the roof, and stared at the stars. It scared their mother but after a while, the roof was the first place Betty checked. A glittering, cobalt blue star shot across the sky brightening the world as a small smile crossed her lips. She liked shooting stars much better than flares, artillery shells, or mortar rounds.

"Okay," she mumbled quietly to herself, "my wish is that we all make it home, my boys and I. I wanna make it back home and take a picture with them on US soil." She laid back and stared at the lone star as her eyelids began to close. She couldn't stop them.

She fell into a light slumber when a shadow stood over her. The man picked her up securely in his arms and deposited her into her bunk before removing her boots and helmet, as well as pulling the blankets up to her chin. She rolled to her side as the man walked away reminding her of a tiger. She never would have let anyone touch her like that, especially when she was half asleep, but the man felt familiar and calming. He smelled nostalgic from her time before the war reminding her of good people, laughing children, family, and baked apple pies on the windowsill. She rolled over again before falling into a deep sleep, one of the best sleeps she had since receiving the news that changed her forever.

They moved out the next afternoon. Lip had been honourably discharged as an enlisted man and received a battlefield commission to become a first lieutenant. Griest was happy for him; no one else deserved that honour more than he did. She watched the small ceremony with Luz as they cheered and whistled happily. After, she went outside and looked up into the sky where a single ray of sunshine pierced through the thick, overcast clouds.

"Hey, Babe!" She looked down as the ginger carried his stuff to the awaiting trucks. She ran over to him as her fingertips felt electric. "Babe, how did the patrol go?"

She meant to stay awake and keep an eye on them like she did the previous night, but she couldn't. She woke up in her bunk with her feeling of home and no recollection of getting there; however, she was more rested and refreshed than she could ever remember being. Babe glanced down at her as he fought to keep back a grin.

"We didn't get any prisoners but we had no casualties." Griest's eyebrows drew together; the circles under his eyes were gone and he didn't sound like a man who conducted a late, high risk, night patrol. She nodded as Babe walked away. She glanced at Liebgott, Martin, Shifty, Webster, and the other members of the patrol. They reflected Babe's undercurrent of happiness and looked rejuvenated. Griest looked to the officers and grinned knowingly. She nodded in acknowledgement to Roe; he also looked restored and ready to go.

"You look better," she observed as the medic crawled into the truck and offered her a hand, which she took after she threw her stuff onboard.

"So do you." He pulled her up as they sat down. She nodded and looked at her hands. She thought of Vest and Jackson as the ache and emptiness returned in her chest while her smile slipped from her face.

"Look, it's the sun," Luz called lightly as the sun warmed her skin reminding her of the last time she held her brother. She looked up as the rays pushed back the shadows and grey. She peered past Bull where Captain Nixon pinned a pair of golden oak leaves onto Winters' uniform. She smiled at the former captain as he turned around and met her eyes.

Major, she mouthed with a small salute. Winters' pale face turned red as he ducked down with a shy grin before walking to a jeep. She smirked as Luz wrapped his arm around her neck and she moved her leg so it touched Roe's.

"You think we're gonna make it home, Chucky?" Talbert asked sitting on the other side of Roe. Griest looked up at the sky as the sun hit her cheeks and she thought of the shooting star. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against Luz's arm.

"I think so, Tabs, I think we will."

"Courage is not having the strength to go on. It's going on when you have no strength"- Napoleon Bonaparte