Chapter 12: To Fight Another Day

"H-help." Bridget let out softly, still reeling with shock. "Anyone?" She managed a little louder, but it wasn't enough to be heard over the shelling. She tried to make her way toward the sound of yelling, but she couldn't move very far, not with the pain in her side. So, instead she curled up trying to stay as protected as best as she could, this made more pain course through her body, but it would hopefully stop her from getting hit again.

When the shelling came to an end, she uncurled and finally looked at her side, afraid to see how bad it might be. The entire side of her uniform was torn up with a mixture of tree and shell shards. Double whammy. Even in the dark, she could see the white snow beginning to turn a sickening red color and the blood felt hot against her freezing skin. This was more than the small scrape she had on D-Day.

"Medic!" O'Carroll was finally able to yell, now that the explosions had stopped. "Medic!" She called again, but she couldn't manage anymore after that. Panic gripping her now and making it impossible to react as she should. Those two cries had been enough, however, and a figure appeared. While she couldn't make out much, tears blurring her vision, she could just make out the armband with the red cross. Thank God.

"It's alright, Sergeant, I'm here now." The medic said and she instantly realized it wasn't Doc Roe. In fact, it wasn't any voice she recognized.

"N-no..." She moaned and tried to push his hands away. Bridget hadn't come this far to let her secret be found out. "Roe... I need..."

"Roe is a little busy right now." He grumbled and she felt her hands be pushed aside as the medic worked to rip open her shirt to get to the wound. "What the fuck?" The medic had seen the bandages wrapped around her chest.

The moment the shelling had stopped, Malarkey ran out to search for O'Carroll. Something was wrong, he could just feel it. "O'Carroll?!" He yelled, running from foxhole to foxhole to ask if anyone had seen her. He finally found someone who had and ran in the direction they had seen her go. He didn't get far when he spotted one figure hunched over another one. There was a crushing sensation in his chest and he began to have trouble breathing. No, no, this couldn't be happening. He took a step forward and the crunching of the snow was enough to get the medic's attention.

"This soldier is a woman!" The medic exclaimed as he turned to look at the soldier. Don rushed to drop by Bridget's side, taking her hand in his. She squeezed it instantly. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her like this, but at the same time, having him there was a great comfort. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Help her." He looked to the medic who only stared at him in disbelief.

"But-"

"Do whatever the fuck you want to about it later, but right now you are going to save her goddamned life or so help me..." Don didn't have to finish the threat as the medic instantly went back to work. Now that the medic was doing his damn job, Don returned his attention to Bridget. The sight of her side instantly made him feel nauseous. Blood was gushing out onto the snow from where splinters of metal and wood had punctured her side. It looked bad, but he was no expert and so he hoped he was wrong. "I'm here, Birdie, I'm here."

"Don..." Bridget choked out from a mixture of pain and emotion. She held his hand tighter. "Don, I'm so sorry..."

"Shh... It's fine. It's fine. It's not that bad." His other hand moved to brush through her short hair.

"N-no. About... about what I said." She grimaced, but otherwise worked to regain her control. It hurt like hell, but she had seen people with worse. "You were right. What you said..."

"Give her a syrette, right now." The medic ordered, tossing it to Don. "Right shoulder." Malarkey instantly obeyed, anything to dull her pain. The Doc then used some of her blood in order to write an M on her head.

"I'm sorry I kept pushing you away..." She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, the morphine quickly beginning to work its magic.

"I know." Malarkey forced a chuckle. "I know you, Bridget. I know you're a hardheaded son of a bitch at times. It's okay." He watched the medic pull out the last of the shards before then using several bandages to wrap her side. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"This won't kill her, if that's what you're asking." The medic grunted. "Who's to say what's going to happen when word of this reaches higher up the ladder." He looked up at Malarkey "Are you going to call for a jeep or am I going to have to do it myself?"

Don didn't want to leave her, but he knew she needed to be taken back to at least Bastogne even though they couldn't go further than that. He gave her hand one more squeeze before getting up to find the nearest radio. Luckily. he only had to go to a few foxholes to find one. Malarkey pointed at the kid. "You. Call for a jeep and follow me." The kid stared at him for a moment. "Now!" That was enough to get him moving and he held the radio to his ear as he followed Don, calling for a jeep to come to their location.

When the truck pulled up, there was a familiar face in the passenger seat. Finally there was Doc Roe. "C'mon, hurry up. We got another one who needs to get taken back." Malarkey saw the man on the stretcher and recognized it was Lieutenant Welsh. "Is that O'Carroll?" Roe asked as he jumped out of the jeep and Don nodded. "Shit." Roe muttered under his breath before moving to help the other medic get Bridget onto the truck. As soon as she was on, Don took her hand in his again and continued his whispered words of comfort.

The other medic pointed at the kid with the radio."Radio ahead and tell them there's a special case they need to look at. Get brass on it to."

"No, wait-" Donald started to protest, but the medic ignored him and moved to Bridget to look at her dog tags.

"Tell them that Sergeant O'Carroll of Easy Company is a woman." The medic said and the boy's mouth dropped open. "Do it." The kid didn't need to be told again. "Now get the hell out of here." He hit the side of the truck and the driver turned the key in the ignition.

"I'll see you soon, Mal." She mumbled and looked at him one last time before the truck began pulling away.

Malarkey watched as the truck drove away, his eyes staying on Bridget for as long as he could see her. Even once she had been driven out of sight, he continued staring through the dark trees. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the last time he would see her face.

One possibility, she was going to die from her wound. Whether infection set in or it was worse than the medic thought it was, it was always likely, especially since they were surrounded. Worst case scenario, she lived only to be killed for being a woman lying her way into the army. Forget the fact she had already shown herself to be a good and selfless leader, the pride of some high level men could be her fall.

The best case scenario? They just sent her home either for the injury or for being a woman. Either way, Malarkey really liked this idea, but he knew Bridget would hate it with a passion. And he had to admit... it wouldn't be the same fighting without her. He didn't know how long he was standing there before his legs finally started pushing him back toward the foxhole where Skip and Penkala were. He hadn't gotten far when he was stopped.

"Hey, Malark, what the hell happened?" It took Don a minute to realize who was talking to him. "I heard someone got hit." Bill Guarnere said, trying to prod an answer out of the man. The last thing Malarkey wanted to do was to be the one to tell her other friends what had happened.

"It... It was, um, it was Bridget." Her name caught in his throat. Saying it made it even more real. His eyes turned back to where he could still see the blood on the ground. "She um, the medic said she should be fine, but it wasn't Roe and headquarters knows now. They know she's a woman."

Guarnere was silent for a moment, processing what the man had told him. And then suddenly, he snapped at the other man. "What the hell did you do this time, you stupid fucking mick? She have to save your ass again and now she's gonna die for it?"

"It wasn't me, Bill! She went out to check her damn squad." Don snapped back but he felt like his chest was being squeezed tightly. What if it was his fault? What if she hadn't seen that damn photo and hadn't left the foxhole in the first place? Would she have stayed then? Suddenly, he felt light headed and had to rest his hand on a nearby tree to stay standing. "I can't breathe." He felt sick to his stomach, the sight of her bloody on the ground fresh in his mind once again. Guarnere's anger quickly faded. Anger was simply how he coped with things, but looking at Malarkey now, he new Bridget would never forgive him for being an ass. He moved to set a hand on Malarkey's back as a form of unspoken apology.

"Hey, it ain't your fault then. That's just what Bridget does."

"Yeah..." He wasn't sure he believed it, but Don tried to breathe slowly, tried to regain his composure. He couldn't break down. He wouldn't break down. "Shit, someone needs to tell Luz too he'd want to know." He took a few steps in that direction, but Bill stopped him once again.

"I'll do it, Mal. You just get yourself some rest. We'll figure it out, don't worry. " Guarnere pat his back and started toward 1st Platoon, already trying to form a plan in his mind on how they could get Bridget safely out of the shit storm that was coming.

Bastogne was hell. While they had been shelled on the lines, the Germans had been bombing the city. The church where they had been keeping the wounded had been bombed and so Bastogne wasn't an option. O'Carroll and Welsh were taken just outside the city where they had been evacuating the other wounded to. As the truck pulled to a stop, there were people there to get the wounded into the makeshift tent that was now up. They got Welsh off of the truck first, it was obvious he was in worse shape than she was. She may have had more wounds, but his was deeper.

Once Welsh was in the hands of other medics, Roe helped them bring O'Carroll into the tent. "Dammit, Bridget. I told you to be careful." He muttered as he crouched down beside her. She only grumbled. Roe inspected what he could of the injury. "You're gonna heal just in time for them to kill you."

"Your bedside manner is shit." She forced out, as always falling back on humor, but Roe didn't laugh. Bridget didn't blame him for that, there was absolutely nothing funny about what was happening.

"Where?" There was a barking yell and Roe looked up quickly. Colonel Sink was already here. Roe stood quickly. Bridget couldn't sit up, but she raised the arm of her uninjured arm weakly to try to salute to him."What is her name, Doc?"

"Bridget O'Carroll, sir." Roe said quietly. "She's just been wounded, she ne-"

"How many knew?"

"I can't say for certain, sir. I believe most of us in the Company."

"Well, I can't punish all of y'all, out of my sight and back to the line." He ordered and Roe spared one last look at O'Carroll before leaving the tent. O'Carroll watched as Sink spoke to the doctor. "You tell me the moment she's recovered enough to move, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."


That moment didn't come until the day after Christmas. She was finally feeling more like herself and the pain wasn't as bad, but everything still ached. That afternoon when she woke, she moved the blanket that was covering her so that she could see the bandages on her side. "Jesus Christ." She muttered, her voice hoarse from not being used.

"It's not so bad." She looked quickly at the medic standing near her bed. "It was just a lot. We were able to get all of the splinters out though and so you won't have to worry about infection." O'Carroll thought of Mo Alley. He had been injured much the same way back in Holland and was back soon enough to join them in Bastogne. That gave her hope. The medic turned to a soldier who seemed to be standing guard. "Go tell Colonel Sink that she's awake and moving." Oh right. She still had to deal with that whole situation.

It felt like hours before none other than Captain Winters was standing over her. She managed a real salute this time and he returned it. "How is your side feeling, O'Carroll?" He asked.

"Just fine," She lied. "It's the trench foot that's killing me." Her small laugh was enough to send another ripple of pain through her, letting him see right through her lie.

"Can you stand, O'Carroll?" Winters asked. She tried to read his expression, but he was doing a good job at hiding any thoughts or feelings from showing. No hint about what her fate was going to be.

"I don't thin-" The medic started, but O'Carroll interrupted him. She'd be damned they thought she was going to spend another minute lying in that bed.

"Yes, sir. I can try, sir." She slowly sat up and got to her feet. It hurt like a bitch, but she managed to keep her reaction as nothing more than a wince.

"Come with me." He started to leave the tent, thankfully keeping a slow pace so that O'Carroll could follow close behind. As they walked, she noticed the flurry of activity around them.

"What's going on, sir?"

"The Army broke through, reestablishing our connection to the outside world. They're getting the severely wounded out of here as soon as possible."

"And where are we going, sir?"

"We're going to HQ to see the General." Her heart rammed into her throat at his words and she stumbled behind him silently. This was going to be bad. This was going to be so bad. Winters directed her into a tent and she took in a steadying breath before stepping inside. She recognized Colonel Sink and Captain Nixon immediately. There with them was man she didn't recognize and who she could only assume was the General. The only one missing was Dike; O'Carroll assumed this was above his pay grade. She saluted when she entered, but only Nixon moved to return it. As soon as he saw no one else was, however, he stopped mid motion and dropped his hand. "General, sir, here she is, Bridget O'Carroll." Winters said as he entered the tent behind her. All eyes were on her and they remained deathly silent for a moment.

"Miss O'Carroll," When the General spoke, his voice didn't sound as harsh as she expected it would. "What led you to parade around as a man in the United States paratroopers?"

"It's Sergeant, sir. Not miss." She said, knowing it was pushing the limits. Only Nixon's expression changed, his eyebrows raising and the slightest smirk appearing on his face. "I went through basic training and I earned my jumpwings and my stripes just like anyone else did. Until I get discharged, I am still a Sergeant." Bridget straightened to further her point, despite the pain in her side. "And I'm here because fighting is where I thought I would be the most help, sir."

"So it would seem." The General, hell Bridget didn't even know which one it was, responded.

"Sir?"

"A silver star in Normandy. Holding the line outside of Carentan even after your left flank ran, and your squad had minimal casualties in Holland. Apparently, you're a damn fine leader." Her brow furrowed, but she remained silent, not sure how to respond. "Normally, you would be executed for doing what you did, but as this is an unusual case. I made a call to the President."

"The... President, sir?"

"Yes, needless to say, he took a lot of interest in your situation and we decided, after the hell the men have been through, their morale couldn't handle having a good leader they respect being executed. That much is certain. Tell me, Sergeant, do you want to keep fighting?" The General asked and Bridget's mouth almost dropped. She hadn't been expecting this.

"Of course, sir."

"Yes, Captain Winters assured me you would say that." She glanced back at Winters, his face as passive as ever. "Well, since that is the case, we find it fit to give you a battlefield commission."

"Sir?" It made no sense. She had been lying to the army. They should be discharging her from the army or at least busting her down a rank. Not giving her a promotion. Something else had to be going on. Who was she to question it though?

"We're making you a Lieutenant, O'Carroll. Now, usually a battlefield commission takes some time and we would move you to a different company, but the President suggested doing it quickly and keeping you in 'Easy Company' since they already highly respect you, even as a woman. You'll be issued new dog tags with your real name on them."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now get back to the aid station and rest up. Easy Company will need their new Lieutenant as soon as possible." Bridget nodded and saluted once more, this time it was returned by everyone, and then she left. When she got back to the aid station, she sat down on her cot and went over what had just happened in her head. She had to be dreaming, this couldn't possibly be actually happening. And yet it was. That evening, O'Carroll was sent to an army hospital in just over the border in France with the rest of the wounded. She hated it with a passion, but she knew that she couldn't jump right back into the fray as she had before, not this time. Besides, it was better than being sent home or to stand in front of some wall to be shot at. Once she healed, she'd be back right where she belonged.

I just want to say sorry this chapter feels a bit like a filler chapter! Any reviews are appreciated.