The patrol was happening tonight, and Claire was starting to get antsy. She sat at the counter eating stew while Luz took inventory of supplies. She was still on 'bed-rest' technically, which meant she couldn't work, but there was no way she was staying in her room. She had a blanket over her shoulders, doing everything in her power to stay warm.

"Think I could get a chocolate bar?" Claire asked looking longingly at the Hershey's. It was just about that time of month. It skipped in Bastogne because of malnutrition and stress. Now that they were away from that, Claire knew it was bound to come.

"Only because I don't want to face Mr. Hyde again," he said as he handed her a bar. Luz had the unfortunate experience of being on the brunt end of one of her mood swings.

"Wait, you saw Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, my buddy and me snuck in when we were kids. One of the first movies I saw," Luz explained. "You saw it?"

She nodded.

"Scared the daylights outta me. My dad took my brother and me," she explained.

"If you tell anyone this, I'll deny it, but I had to sleep with my ma after seeing it," Luz admitted.

Claire bit back a laugh. "My lips are sealed."

"You better. While you're at it, you mind keeping that between us?" He asked pointing to the bar. "Don't want them thinking I'm playing favorites."

She pretended to lock her lips.

Claire coughed into her blanket. Her coughing fits were still as bad as they had been, but they weren't as long. At the sound of footsteps coming towards them, she stuffed the Hershey bar in her pocket. She then took a bite of her stew as Martin and Cobb walked in.

"Hey Russ, looking better," Martin said when he saw her. She knew she still looked like shit, but at least she was clean.

"You're a terrible liar, but awfully kind to say so," she responded.

"You got Hershey bars?" Cobb asked while looking at the box.

"Not enough," Luz countered. Claire stayed silent as she ate her stew.

"C'mon Luz," Martin begged.

"Goddammit Johnny, you're breaking my heart. I'm telling you."

"C'mon George, just give me ten or fifteen bars," Martin added.

Luz reached in one of the boxes and pulled out a pack of gum.

"Juicy Fruit. There, happy?"

Vest came in the room carrying a box of ammo.

"We've got sign of movement," he told Luz. "First Sergeant Lipton wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds in a house across the river."

"You'd think we'd be able to get one Hershey bar," Cobb spoke. "C'mon, Luz, your first platoon at heart."

"Jesus Cobb, there's not enough to go around," Luz repeated. Claire was suddenly very fascinated with the roof of the house.

"Whoa Hershey bar!" Liebgott said as he came into the room with Webster, Martin, and Lieutenant West-Point.

Just keep eating your stew and slip out. Don't let on that you have a Hershey bar. She told herself as she ate the stew.

"Jesus Christ, wait your turn."

"Who are they for?" Liebgott asked.

"Not for you," Luz replied annoyed.

"Oh, c'mon George, one bar."

"No, there's not enough to go around!" Luz finally snapped.

"Captain Speirs here?" Lieutenant West-Point asked.

"He's down by the river, sir," Luz said.

"Hey, big mouth, why don't you give the kid a Hershey bar?" The familiar voice of Frank Perconte entered the room. He'd been at the hospital for a few weeks now after he got shot in the butt in Foy.

"Well, I'll be damned," Martin voiced.

"Shouldn't you be in a hospital, Perco?" Claire spoke up in a light tone. She knew what the answer was going to be. "Or did the nurses get sick of you?"

"Took a page out of your book, Russ."

"Y'all make it sound like I'm the only one that's gone AWOL from the hospital," she joked. She looked over her shoulder to see Lieutenant West-Point staring at her.

"Nah, it's just fun to annoy you," Perconte spoke.

Claire rolled her eyes and coughed in her blanket.

"Like what you did with the place, George."

"Yeah, yeah, did good, didn't I?"

"How're you feelin' Perco?" Claire asked.

"Better than you by the looks of it."

"Pneumonia's a bitch," Luz answered for her. Yep, she still looked like Hell. Claire hacked again, covering her mouth with the blanket. "Here, have a Hershey's." He tossed Perconte a chocolate bar.

"He gets a fucking Hershey bar?" Liebgott questioned.

"Well he got shot in the ass."

Martin walked over and wrapped one of his arms around Perconte's shoulders.

"Try to get this guy out of the fucking war and he comes right back," Martin said.

Claire's eyes darted over to Webster. She could tell the comment was an indirect jab at him. Webster was probably the only Toccoa man who didn't go AWOL from the hospital. He'd missed Bastogne. While they were freezing their asses off and watching their friends die or get wounded, he was sitting in the comfortable hospital twiddling his thumbs. She tried not to be bitter, because soldiers were supposed to heal completely before returning to the line, but it was hard.

"That's not what I hear. Heard the krauts are finished," Perconte added.

"Yeah, well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the river tonight. Grab a few and ask them ourselves," Liebgott said bitterly.

"Seriously?" Perconte questioned.

"Welcome back, Frank," Liebgott said.

"Who's leading the patrol tonight?" Claire asked Liebgott.

"Malarkey."

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Malarkey was in no shape to lead a patrol. He was at the top of her freaking list. She had to talk to Ron.

"Excuse me boys, got some business I gotta attend to," she declared before getting up from her stool and headed out of the room.

Claire walked out of the CP and down towards the river. She was still wearing a blanket and had put on her helmet. She spotted Dick and Ron standing there, planning for the patrol. They heard her coming behind them.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Ron pointed out.

"You're making Malarkey lead the patrol?" She countered. "With all due respect, Ron, that's a mistake."

Both Dick and Ron seemed taken aback by this.

"I know that it isn't my place to tell you how to do your job, but I can give you my medical opinion. Malarkey has lost his five best friends in the span of a few weeks. He has been on the very front line in every campaign. He needs a break," she pressed.

"They all do," Ron retorted.

"Captain Winters," Lieutenant West-Point called from behind her. She groaned mentally.

"Lieutenant Rousseau, go back to bed. You're not on duty," Dick ordered.

"Captain Speirs, Captain Winters, please at least consider what I said?" She pressed.

"It's noted," Ron answered. "Now go. Get some rest, that's an order."

Claire walked away from the men and back to the CP. She was used to going toe-to-toe with authority figures. She'd done it before while she was a surgical nurse before the war. She had a thick skin that did not break easy. More than that, these were her friends, people she trusted and who trusted her. She hoped they would listen to her advice. Malarkey needed a break.

When Claire got in the CP, she saw Babe was there talking with Liebgott, Martin, Cobb, and Perconte. Good, Eugene told him.

"Babe," she beckoned him over. He left the group of men and came over to see her. She led him to the hallway away from the front so no one could see.

"You know, if we're not careful people'll get the wrong idea," Babe voiced.

Claire scoffed. "Please. Now go on."

Babe huffed in annoyance and moved the fingers on his right hand and then his left.

"Any problems?" She asked.

"It happened yesterday, but wore off a few minutes later," he admitted. "First time it happened two weeks."

"Okay… next time it happens, come see me right away," she ordered.

"I keep telling you, ma'am, you don't need to do this."

"No, I do," she replied. "Because the only other alternative is me taking you off the line."

Babe didn't answer. He knew she was right.

"Now go."

He walked back out.

Stupid. You're being stupid. She should've sent Babe off the line when she first discovered his condition. But, she knew that if she did that, he would receive a dishonourable discharge and Babe deserved better.

Claire did end up going to sleep again. She felt feverish. Gene came by before and gave her another shot of penicillin. He also gave one to Lip. She told him to wake her up before the patrol. Luckily, she didn't have another nightmare. They came and went. She didn't dream at all. She was too tired for it.

Claire woke up to the loud booms and bullets shooting from machine guns. She shot out of bed and put on her helmet and musette bag before running out. Just as she ran out to the main room, McClung came running in.

"Lieutenant Rousseau!" He called out. "Where's Captain Speirs?"

"Upstairs," she answered. "McClung, anyone hurt?"

"Jackson!"

"Where?"

"OP2."

Claire took off running out the door.

OP2 was two streets over. She remembered where Gene had pointed them out. She sprinted, ducking behind sandbags as a few mortars came a little too close for comfort. When that cleared, she kept running.

She got to OP2 and ran in the room full of soldiers. She'd come flying down the steps and broke through the crowd.

"Move! Out of my way!" She ordered.

Eugene had Jackson on the ground and he held him as the young man choked on his own blood.

"I need you to hang on!" Eugene told him, only from what she could see, it was too late. Eugene Jackson took one last choking breath before going limp in Gene's arms.

Eugene looked up and locked his eyes with hers and shook his head.

You should've been faster.

Everyone in the room had gone completely silent. Claire looked at Jackson's body, the numbness filling her chest once more. Jackson had been with the company since Holland. He was a good, well-liked kid who was much too young to be lying dead in a dank basement in Haguenau. He'd choked on his own blood, there was nothing that could have been done, not that that lessened the guilt in her chest.

Martin brushed past her and covered the body. He'd been the one to lead the patrol instead of Malarkey. Eugene was still sitting on his knees, his hands covered in Jackson's blood. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't stop death.

After the attacks had finally stopped, the litter carriers were able to get Jackson's body out, Claire was walking back to the CP with Eugene. On the way back to the CP, the adrenaline she had wore off and she felt dizzy. Her pneumonia was not getting better. Claire swerved a bit and Eugene took her by the arm. She couldn't stop thinking about how Jackson choked on his own blood. How she should've ran faster. Maybe if she'd been there, things would have been different.

"Nothing you coulda done," Eugene told her. They were alone in the CP. Speirs must've been upstairs, Lip was probably back in bed. He sat her down on the couch. The world was still spinning.

"I know…" she replied. Her head was in her hands and her eyes closed as she tried to make everything stop spinning. "Nothing you coulda done either."

Death had become a constant for them. While losing Jackson hurt, they had grown almost numb to it. The last time she let death affect her, she'd broken down. After Bastogne, she hoped the death would stop, but deep down she knew it wouldn't until this damn war was finished.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up," he said. "Captain Winters ordered me not to because you need to rest. Ain't gonna get better if you keep running out in the fire like that."

"Eugene, bein' sick ain't gonna stop me from doing my damn job," she snapped.

"Yes, it is," he replied. The calm in his voice was all but gone now. "You can't do your damn job if you can barely stand. You might not give a shit about your life, but I do!"

"Gene..."

"How often do I gotta say that I care about you, huh? That I'm worried about you?"

"You don't have to be," she replied.

"Yeah, I do. Of course I do. Just take a damn break before you run yourself straight into the ground, and I'm gonna be the one left behind," he ranted.

Claire's head was spinning.

"Eugene…"

He must've seen the look in her eye. Eugene put a hand to her forehead.

"You're burning up," he said alarmingly.

She was feeling nauseous now. The world wouldn't stop spinning.

"Gene… I think I'm gonna…" she felt her throat tighten and her gag reflex started acting up.

Claire took off her helmet and vomited in it. The stew she'd eaten did not taste nearly as good coming up as it did going down. Eugene sat next to her and wrapped one arm around her. The tears stung her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she apologized once she finished throwing up.

"Don't be sorry."

"I'm sorry about Jackson."

"Yeah, I am too."

She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm tired," she admitted. Most days, it felt like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Me too," he replied. She knew he carried it too. "But we're gonna be okay."

"Yeah… we are."

Unlike the last two days, Claire actually listened to Eugene, Ron, Dick, and Lew. She stayed in bed. Her one compromise was that Eugene updated her on the well-being of the company frequently. She slept as much as she could, pushing through the nightmares that were starting back up after watching Jackson die.

There was another patrol set for tonight, a big mistake. It was stupid to be risking the lives of men when the end was in reach.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" It was Lew who stood at her door looking in on her.

"Better… somewhat. What's this I hear about another patrol happening tonight?" She asked.

"We got two men who talked. Sink's been bragging about it all morning," Lew explained. "He wants another one."

"But he knows Jackson died right? Jackson… he was just a kid."

"Yeah, he knows."

"And he still wants our guys risking their necks?" Claire asked in disbelief.

"Yep."

"Unbelievable. Tell me it's at least a different group."

"Wish I could," he replied.

"What does Dick think of all this?" She asked.

"He's not happy," Lew answered. He paused for a moment. "So, what's this I hear about you running out in the middle of the firefight last night when you're supposed to be on bed rest?"

"Lew, I already got the lecture from Eugene. I don't need it from you too," she replied. "Why d'you think I'm being so damn cooperative today?"

"Well, Doc does give better lectures than I do."

"So this patrol is actually happening, huh?" Claire changed the subject back.

"I'm glad you asked that. I was actually getting to it…"

Lew went on to explain that Dick was refusing to do the patrol, though he didn't say it. Instead, he was going to write a bogus report that the patrol happened but they couldn't get any prisoners. Even better news, they were being taken off the line, finally.

"Thank God," she sighed in relief.

"Move over."

Claire made room for Lew to sit next to her. He took out his flask and drank.

"Why the Hell did you wait so long to tell me?" She asked

"Because I'm a bad bad man."

Claire snorted.

"You're looking better," he told her.

"Feeling better too," she said honestly. She didn't feel dizzy or nauseous anymore. She wasn't too hot or too cold. "I've been sleeping all day."

"I'll get Doc to come check on you later."

"Hey, Lew, what day is it?" She'd lost count in Bastogne and wanted to properly date the journal entries.

"February 22nd," he said.

Claire laughed in disbelief.

"What?" He asked.

"It's my birthday today," she admitted.

"It is?"

"Yeah… I turn twenty-four today," she added. "Didn't think I would."

"What do you normally do today?" Lew asked.

"Honestly, I haven't done anything since I was seventeen," she explained. "But when I was a kid, I used to look forward to it all year long. What about you? What does Lewis Nixon do on his birthday?"

"Mostly just cake and presents. It was only ever my mom and me since my dad was always at work. Never had traditions. My birthday was just another day," he shrugged.

"Yeah, that's what mine is now. Just another day."

"Lip's getting his battlefield commission this afternoon. I'll wake you up so you can join us," Lew told her. He got up from the bed and started heading to the door.

"Lew, would you mind keepin' today a secret?" She asked. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.

"Happy birthday, Claire," he said with a smirk on his face.

Wait.

"Lew?" She asked.

He turned and walked out of the room.

"Lew? You didn't say anything," she called out after him. He didn't respond.

Oh no.

Claire laid back in the bed and huffed. She should've kept her mouth shut.

"Bonne fête ma chérie," Claire's father told her softly as her eyes opened.

"Papa, what're doing?" She asked and yawned.

"It's not every day my sweet princess turns ten."

She'd forgotten her birthday. It had only been a month since Maman went away. Papa said she and Leah were with God and his angels now.

"Viens, ma belle, get dressed and I'm going to wake up your brother and all of us are going on an adventure."

Claire rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She got out of bed and took out her favourite dress. She braided her long hair and put on her shoes. She walked out to see James rubbing his eyes groggily as he walked out of his room dressed. They put on their light jackets and left the house.

The three of them got in the pick up truck and they drove all the way to Lafayette. Claire walked down main street, amazed at the amount of shops. She'd never been to Lafayette. James had his nose pressed up against the window to a toy store. Claire looked in and saw they had a row of these beautiful dolls in the front window. The most beautiful was one that had dark hair like Claire's, with brown eyes and porcelain skin. She gazed, wanting nothing more than to bring the doll back home.

"James, Claire, come along," her father beckoned. Claire gave one last look at the doll before sighing and walking away. They would never be able to afford her. Besides, Claire already had a doll.

They spent the whole day in Lafayette. Papa took them to the movies. They were even allowed to have popcorn. They shared a small tub and watched the movie. It was one of the best days in her life. They got home later in the afternoon to see Mrs. Maude standing there, the smell of her fresh pot of jambalaya filled the air making Claire salivate.

The four of them sat at the dinner table, Maman's seat remained glaringly vacant. Once dinner was finished, Mrs. Maude brought out a small cake. It was only big enough for Claire and James to have a piece. It was a vanilla cake from the bakery in Breaux Bridge with white icing. It was delicious.

After dessert, Claire's father pulled out a wrapped present.

"Open it," her father urged.

Claire pulled at the wrapping paper and saw that it was a silver medallion of St. Michael on a chain. She recognized it immediately. It was her mother's.

"Merci, Papa," she said as she traced the pattern with her thumb. It was beautiful, and it hurt her heart.

Claire's eyes opened and she wiped the tears that had fallen while she slept. This was the first time in nearly a year that she'd dreamt about something good. Sure, she was sad, but the memory was still a good one. Claire went and touched the medallion around her neck. The chain had broken a long time ago and was replaced with the leather cord she currently had.

According to her father, back just before the Great War had finished, the two of them roamed the streets of London while on leave. They kept their relationship a secret as there was a strict non-fraternization policy. They came across a shop and she saw the medallion. Her mother knew all the Saints, so she bought the medallion and gave it to her father.

"It will keep you safe."

And it did. He made it out of France and they got married. When James went off to the Navy, she gave it to him. When he died, Henry brought it back to her. He stood in the lobby of her apartment building and he told her everything about how James died. She took the necklace and wordlessly walked away. He called after her but she ignored him. Now she carried it. She thought she'd lost it for six weeks, but it had been there the whole time, just a little misplaced. It was her most prized possession. The only thing she had left of her family.

The door opened and Lew came and got her. The two of them walked over to the room. The officers, including Harry who was back from the hospital. Even Lieutenant West-Point was there. He looked different from that arrogant, cocky boy who showed up a few days ago. War will do that to you. Lipton looked much healthier. She knew it would be a short ceremony.

"First Sergeant Lipton," Dick started. "Your honorable discharge as an enlisted man."

He handed Lipton the papers. "And your battlefield commission as a Second Lieutenant."

Claire smiled at him in pride. He deserved it.

"Congratulations Carwood," Dick said as he shook Lipton's hand.

Claire shook his hand.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Call me Claire, Carwood," she said. They were both officers now, he didn't need to be too formal. The only people who called her Claire were the officers and Gene. Everyone else called her Lieutenant Rousseau, ma'am, Doc, or Russ.

There was a round of congratulations. Claire stood next to Lew.

"Hey Harry, thought it would be a while before we saw you," Lew said as they walked over to their friend. "Figured you'd be nursing your scratch for another month or two."

"Yeah, yeah, missed you too."

"Welcome back, Harry," Claire greeted him. Claire clapped him on the shoulder. Lew pulled out his flask and handed it to Harry. "Good to see you up and moving again."

"Thanks for looking after me, Claire," he told her.

"Someone's gotta make sure you get back to Kitty," she replied. Harry being okay and back was a welcome relief. She'd missed the little Irish man.

Not long after Lip got his battlefield commission, she saw that Lieutenant West-Point was promoted to First Lieutenant and he was being sent to Regimental HQ. She offered her polite congratulations before going into the living room with a mug of coffee. She sat on the couch before anyone could say anything about her being up. It was like having a room full of over-protective fathers.

She drank her coffee and for the first time in a while, she felt warm. She wasn't overheated, she was perfect. She saw Eugene come into the room. He came over sat on the table next to the couch.

"How're you feelin'?" He asked.

"Fever broke," she answered.

He put his hand to her forehead to make sure. He looked relieved. "Yep, you're still a bit warm, but seems like the worst is gone."

She smiled up at him. Eugene's eyes were tired and weary. She remembered them back at Toccoa, so full of life. He, just like every other soldier, had lost most of that light.

"Hey… you doin' alright?" She asked.

"I shoulda been faster," Eugene admitted. "For Jackson… I shoulda been faster."

Claire took Eugene's hand in hers comfortingly. "What did you tell me last night? What have I always told you, Gene? You can't blame yourself for the things you can't change."

"He shoulda lived," Eugene countered. "Men worse off then him've lived."

Claire thought about Tipper in that moment. He'd made it and she honestly didn't believe he was going to. She thought about the men in the church in Bastogne and how she helped put them back together. She also remembered how some of the men who'd gotten injuries that would most likely not kill them died.

"Sometimes, fear can be as lethal as a bullet or a grenade. In the end, they're the ones that have to fight to live. What happened was a horrible tragedy, but it wasn't your fault. You did everything right. You did everything you could," she assured him. She wasn't sure if she believed it entirely, but she needed him to.

Gene stayed quiet. Claire knew she should say something but she didn't know what to say. Instead she decided to change the subject. She let go of his warm hand, not realizing she was still holding it.

"How's second platoon doing?" She asked.

"Fine, better now. Guess you heard the news?" Gene asked.

"Uh-huh, getting moved off. About time too," she answered.

"Heard somethin' else too…"

"What is it?" She asked cautiously.

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" He asked.

"How did you find out?" Claire asked.

"Heard Captain Nixon talking to Luz to get an extra Hershey bar," he explained.

"I am going to kill Lewis Nixon," she grumbled under her breath. "I honestly didn't realize what day it was until today. Besides, it's just another day. Just means that I'm getting older."

"How old are you?" He asked.

"Twenty-four."

"Happy birthday, Claire," he told her.

She smiled at him. A warmth spreading through her chest. He smiled back at her, and it was a genuine one. The kind she remembered from before they jumped on Normandy. The kind where his face would light up. She loved that smile.

"Claire, can you come here for a minute?" Lew called as he stepped in the room.

"I'm coming," she sighed. She looked back at Gene and gave him a small smile.

Claire got up off the couch and walked over to Lew like a criminal walking to her execution. She didn't want to do anything for her birthday. Her birthday was always something she did with her family. Her father was the one who always went above and beyond.

She followed Lew back into the room where they gave Lip the battlefield commission.

"Lew, I told you, I didn't want…" She was cut off by Lew handing her something. It was a piece of paper. It was blank. She looked at him in confusion.

"You said you wanted nothing… so here's nothing," he said. "Happy birthday, kid."

She laughed. "But wait… Doc said he overheard you telling Luz for a chocolate bar?"

"Yeah, used it as an excuse," he pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket. It was already open and he took a bite.

"You are a bad man," Claire joked.

"Truly terrible," he replied. "Oh, something else came for you today. I meant to give it earlier but I thought it would be more fun to do it now."

She rolled her eyes.

"What is it?"

He reached into his pocket with his other hand and pulled out another piece of paper. He handed it to her and Claire read the words very slowly.

"They're awarding me the Silver Star?" She said in disbelief.

"For what you did back in Bastogne," Lew explained.

"But it wasn't just me," she countered. "The men at the aid station deserve it just as much as I do."

"Take the compliment, Claire. What you did at Bastogne was brave. You're a hero."

She shook her head. "I'm not a hero. I did my job."

"Very few women have ever gotten this award," Lew added. "This is a good thing. You deserve it."

She looked down at the piece of paper again. She didn't feel like she deserved it.

Another birthday went by and now Claire was twenty-four. Unfortunately, because Lew told Luz, it spread around. She'd been well enough to go outside and walk around. She checked on the OPs and got the annoying 'Happy Birthday, Russ'.

The next morning, Easy Company was finally getting off the line. Her fever was gone and she was on the mend. She was leaning up against a jeep while people hustled around her. Before he got in his jeep, Lieutenant West-Point… Jones, gave her a polite nod. She acknowledged it and he was gone.

"That's what? Sixteen Lieutenant's since D-Day?" Claire asked noticing Dick leaning on the jeep beside her.

"Yep," he replied.

"You made the right call," she complimented, "about the patrol, I mean."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Dick replied and winked.

"Right, of course," she nodded.

"You doing alright?" He asked. Claire remembered how he woke her up because of the nightmare.

"I'm alright," she answered. "Just glad to be going off the line. It's about time."

"Couldn't agree with you more. Congratulations on the medal, by the way."

"Thanks… I'm surprised actually."

"How so?"

"I was just doing my job," she explained. "Why should I be awarded a medal when all I was doing was working?"

"I heard about what happened," Dick explained. "Your actions saved the lives of over forty soldiers."

"I lost five soldiers and two of my team because of what happened. One of my men is paralyzed because of my actions."

"The thing about being a leader, Claire, is that you need to make the tough choices and sometimes those choices get people killed. What you need to remember is that if you hadn't done what you'd done, forty others would be dead," Dick explained. "You won't save everybody."

It was the sort of thing her father would've told her. Claire sometimes forgot that Dick was only two years older than her. War had aged him, just like it had everyone. Yesterday, Claire caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair now reached the middle of her neck and a few of her hairs had gone grey.

"I know I won't… I had to write to the family of one of my medics that died. I've had that letter sent to me, Dick. I never wanted to be the one to write it," she explained.

"You're a good leader, Claire. You're good at your job. But, I need to know… can you still handle this?" He asked her. She knew it wasn't personal. Dick had to look after three companies. He needed to make sure all his soldiers were able to do their jobs.

"I can," she assured. "I wasn't raised to be a quitter. We've all got our jobs to do."

"Okay," he said.

"There you are." They both looked over to see Lew coming towards them. "Dick, I got that report all done. Shame they couldn't get anymore prisoners."

"Yeah, unfortunate," Dick replied.

"So, back to Mourmelon, then?" Claire asked.

"For a while, yeah," Lew replied.

"Then where?"

"We'll know more once we get back," Dick answered. He didn't know yet either.

"Oh, that reminds me, Colonel Sink is a bit unhappy with your uniform, he says it isn't befitting to your rank," Lew spoke to Dick. He handed him a little box. Dick opened it.

"Oak leaves?"

Claire smiled at him. "Congratulations, Major."

Both Claire and Lew saluted Dick. It was about time he got promoted. He'd been doing the work of a Major with the rank of a Captain.

"Gentlemen, lady, we're ready to go," the jeep driver informed them.

"I'm driving," Dick said.

"Claire, you riding with us?" Lew asked.

"Yeah," she answered as she hopped in the back seat.

They pulled away from town. The truck convoy followed behind them. There was a collective sense of relief among them. Finally, it felt like they could breathe again.

I hope you, liked it. If you did, please leave a review.