Beta's: Antman, Laura001, AngelicSentinel, and FandomlyCroft dragged this chapter kicking and screaming into shape. It is so much better because of them, there aren't words.
Last Time: Eve and Bull survive a night alone and find their way back to Easy Company.
"People didn't crumple and fall like they did in Hollywood movies. They were tossed in the air. They were whipped around. They were hit to the ground hard and their blood spattered everywhere. And a lot of people were standing close to people and found themselves covered in the blood and flesh of their friends, and that's a pretty tough thing for anybody to handle." — Col. Bert Hagerman, 17th Airborne
Now: Easy Company fights their way through Holland. It doesn't go well.
-Chapter 21-
It took Eve's head a week to stop hurting.
In that time, it became very apparent that Market Garden had failed.
The frustrating bit was that Easy Company and the 101st had accomplished their mission – they'd captured and held the bridge and the road for the armored to come up. But something went wrong on the Brits end and the promised tanks too forever to arrive. And there were far too many Krauts – well trained, well armed Germans – not the old men and kids they'd been promised.
They'd lost their element of surprise when they'd dropped in, in broad daylight, and it must've all gone downhill from there.
The Germans pushed the outnumbered Allies back, continuously cutting the road they had to hold for their armored to come up and get to the bridges further on.
They just couldn't keep the road open.
Plus, whenever they entered a town, the Dutch people would throw a party until the Dutch underground came with intel that the Krauts were planning to bomb the town.
So Easy Company packed up, and left the town and the people who'd welcomed them like heroes to their fate.
It turned Eve's stomach every single time, and it happened over and over again.
The Krauts would bomb the town, and roll back in, cutting the road.
So Easy Company had to retake the town again to reopen the road. When they succeeded, there would be another party in their honor until the whole grisly cycle repeated itself.
It was an endless back and forth and immensely frustrating.
The only reason the Krauts got away with it was that they so much more fire power at their disposal.
Easy Company was hilariously outgunned at every turn. The Tiger tanks had 88mm rounds on the Shermans 75mm round – and the Germans weren't stingy with them. They didn't hesitate to use a tank shell on a single man running across the field. They were faster than the Shermans too. And better armored.
The tanks started to become known as Zippos after the reliable lighters – which guaranteed that they would spark into a flame at the first strike. They were flaming death boxes with one hit by the Tigers, and there was nothing Easy Company could do to help the poor bastards trapped inside as they burned alive.
Eve threw up a lot after watching tank battles, but that wasn't even the worst of it.
The Germans had a 105 howitzer (the big guns Easy had taken out at Brecourt) and a 270mm railgun – which might have been a myth but for the way the earth shook when it fired, let alone when it exploded half a field in one blast. Easy had nothing to match any of it, supplied with paltry little .60 mortar rounds.
Even their machine guns were superior. Easy Company only had the little 30-caliber they dropped with. The MG-42 the Krauts had blew them away with the ability to fire one continuous stream of bullets, brrrrrrrrrrt! Four-hundred bullets at once where the American machine guns went bap-bap-bap-bap-bap!
Easy Company was surrounded. They were always surrounded, they'd expected it. But the Germans weren't supposed to have this amount of firepower.
Intelligence had erred. Badly.
They needed to know more.
"I need a volunteer," said Winters, selecting Second Platoon – his old platoon – to ask to do the impossible.
"What do you need?" volunteered Joe Toye.
Winters looked at the skyline, at the German line. They were being hit from all sides, shrouded in a hail of bullets all. "I need a prisoner."
Toye nodded. "Camble, Harrellson," he picked two men from his squad. "With me."
"Need a hand, Toye?" said Eve, bored of retreating. Liebgott and More (another sergeant recently assigned to her rifle squad) could lead their respective squads of men on the retreat: she didn't need to be involved.
Toye looked her over and smiled.
Needing no further invitation, Eve grabbed her gun, took a deep breath, and followed Toye into the breach.
She had no idea how they managed to make it through the lines, had no idea how they managed to find a Kraut – sleeping of all things in the middle of the fire fight – on guard duty. God must have been smiling down on them.
With a few hand signs to signal his intention, Toye handed Eve his gun and pulled his knife from his boot. Quickly, quietly, Toye snuck up behind the dozing Kraut and clapped a hand over the man's mouth, putting the knife to his throat. Eve had her gun on the man just in case, but the Kraut put up no resistance, just dropped his weapon and went along, easy as pie.
As far as Eve could tell, the only thing the Kraut had to say – and he said it over and over again in broken English – was that the Americans were going to lose the war.
"Fat chance," said Toye, grabbing the Kraut by the gruff and pushing the kid forward.
XxX
Easy Company's luck in avoiding the bombings ran out in the Dutch town of Veghel.
The Dutch told Easy that the Krauts were going to bomb Uden, so command moved the Company to Veghel.
The Krauts cut the road behind them, surrounding the 506 but locking their sights on Second Platoon.
It was raining, the wind howling as though they'd personally offended God, when the Krauts unleashed hell on them.
It came from all sides. The Luftwaffe hit them from the air, the SS shelled them from the ground, and the tanks hit them with 88s.
The 88s blew craters into the ground and vaporized anyone stupid enough to expose himself. Men were flesh and bone one second, and absolutely gone the next, not even shrapnel left to be found of them. Just gone.
Eve's squad got caught in an orchard just outside Veghel with the rest of Second Platoon.
She was walking next to Jackson when the first bomb hit.
There wasn't any cover.
The plentiful apple trees that they'd picked their lunch from betrayed them now, splintering and sending shards of wood longer than Eve's arm with enough force to skewer men.
She yanked Jackson to the ground and plastered herself to the earth. When it became apparent that the shelling wasn't going to stop, she fumbled for the shovel strapped to her shin and started digging.
There was nothing in the world more motivating for foxhole digging than artillery fire. They dug as quickly and deeply as they could. It was the fastest foxhole Eve had ever dug.
Jackson didn't bother with his shovel and just used his bare hands to help her shovel the loose , thick earth out of their way.
Eve plastered herself into the mud, feeling completely helpless as she spit out mouthfuls of gritty earth that forced themselves past her lips. She bit her lip keep it out and to keep from crying with fear.
Death and gore were everywhere. One man's arm was blown off and landed in the trees above him, only to fall down into Eve's hole. She tried not to vomit or scream, she could see Jackson doing the same.
There was nothing she could do but sit in her hole with four feet of water soaking her ODs.
Every once in a while, the guns would stop, just for a brief time, and Easy Company was able to get off a few rounds before the Krauts figured out there were still some poor bastards alive in the field and started firing again.
Eve buried her face in the mud, better the earth than what was going on above, and took everything she was seeing, everything that was happening above her foxhole, and stuffed it all in a box at the back of her mind and ignored it, praying the next shell wouldn't land in her hole, wouldn't take any of her guys.
The ground buckled beneath her and she screamed, the sound lost amidst the cacophony of explosions shaking the earth like a snow globe.
Jackson plastered himself to his back and shouted in her ear.
She couldn't hear him. "WHAT?" she bellowed back.
"THAT WAS BAXTER AND NELSON!" he shouted right into her ear.
Eve looked where her replacements were supposed to be. There was a fresh scar on the earth, a still smoking black crater where her men once were.
They were gone. There was nothing left, not even their dog tags for her to send back to their mothers.
She felt useless and helpless. They were just kids – not even old enough to buy beer back home, and yet sent to die for a couple bridges in Holland, trying to end a war thousands of miles from home.
It wasn't fair.
Eve tilted her head back and screamed at the sky, trying to pretend the water coming down her face was just rain.
She was heartbroken.
Eve had been one of the few NCOs to have all of her replacements make it this far. Already, there'd been a staggering number of replacement casualties, but Eve's squad hadn't changed since the drop.
She really thought they would make it. They should've made it. She screamed her despair because there was nothing else she could do. She was trapped in this hole, and who knew if shewould even survive.
And then she got angry, angry that she was so completely helpless as the Krauts picked off her friends for sport. She found that anger and gripped it tight. Anger was more useful than despair.
It took days of endless waiting, endless shelling, endless death, before the English Typhoons gave them enough covering fire to get the hell out of the orchard.
Eve knew she was never going to forget what she saw in that orchard. She'd carry the lesson she learned there to her grave.
War was not glorious or full of valor; it was sitting in a hole being scared while death stole her friends.
War was hell.
XxX
As Operation Market Garden continued – rather disastrously if Eve had a vote – Eve realized that she and Bill Guarnere had a lot in common. They were both nosy. As soon as Second Platoon was stationed somewhere, Eve and Guarnere were walking the line, trying to find where the other two platoons were stationed, trying to see what kind of action those two were having.
First Platoon had the honor of being in front most of the time, so they took a lot of the casualties. Whenever someone else was being hit, that's where Eve and Guarnere inevitably ended up.
Unless one or the other ended up leading a patrol, like tonight.
It was well past dark. The fog had rolled in and given the air a damp closeness that Eve would never take comfort in. It was eerie, especially since she'd gotten used to it in the past few months of being trapped in Holland.
Patrol was boring, but it was considerably less boring that sitting around wherever they'd dug in for the night with nothing to do but shiver in a foxhole until she fell asleep. So, Eve didn't particularly mind being on patrol for the night, it was their turn after all, and they were far from enemy lines. She didn't anticipate any problems on this one.
"Hey, anyone gotta smoke?" asked Liebgott. He glanced around, trying to gage who was the likeliest to be hoarding smokes.
Eve rolled her eyes. This was the third time Liebgott had asked for a cigarette.
She had some, but unless she needed a favor, she never gave up her stock, and she certainly wasn't going to give him one when he was supposed to be paying attention to the landscape.
He looked around the formation. Alley gave him a grin and a negative shake of his head. More sneered at him, daring him to even ask, and then there was Boyle, who was crouched over like they were going to be jumped any second. His only hope was that maybe the replacements were stupid enough to offer up their smokes. It would certainly win them some points with him for all that it mattered.
"We're on light discipline," she reminded the man.
"Noise too," added Lesniewski scowling as Lieb started staring at him speculatively. Lesniewski was a Toccoa man, and he knew the score. Liebgott couldn't torment him into forking over his cigarettes despite their differing ranks and Lieb knew it too. Sergeant chevrons only went so far among the Toccoa guys.
"We ain't even at the line," protested Liebgott moving on to Jackson as a more likely source of cigarettes. The new boys didn't go through them the way the Normandy veterans did. Jackson obligingly pulled out a pack and shook one of the sticks out for the now grinning man. "'Sides," said Lieb as he lit the cigarette and inhaled, "the Krauts are all probably asleep anyways."
Eve broke formation to pluck the cigarette from Lieb's hands and threw it to the ground, smothering the glowing embers with her boot, ignoring the shouted explicative at the wasted commodity.
Eve was about to reply when the air split with the brrrrrrrrrrt! of Kraut machine gun fire.
"Contact right!" she cried as though the men around her couldn't see and hear the guns going off. "More! Pull back!"
The sergeant of her first rifle team started moving while she led Liebgott's rifle team into laying down covering fire. Hopefully, it would make the Krauts back off for a moment until More's team could get into a position to offer their own covering fire.
Before More's squad could possibly be in position, a German potato masher landed right amongst her team.
When the ringing in her ears died down, Eve looked over and found Alley on the ground, riddled with frag.
"Lesniewski! Liebgott! Get Alley!" Eve ordered, peppering the machine gun muzzle flashes she could see with covering fire for the men she'd deployed. "Jackson! Covering Fire!" The replacement obeyed as the two original Easy members dragged Alley away.
"Boyle, help us!" called Liebgott when he found that he and Lesniewski were unable to bear the limp man's weight. His grip on Alley slipped in the slick blood. A whizzing noise barely preceded a biting sting on his neck. "Fuck!" Liebgott cursed as he instinctively brought a hand up to the wound.
"Damn it, Liebgott!" cried Lesniewski as he and Boyle staggered under the extra weight. "Help us!"
Liebgott obeyed, putting the injury out of his mind.
More's rifle team opened up and Eve was able to pull back with Jackson, helping the encumbered men drag Alley to safety.
They reconnected with More's team and Eve set the still firing team to covering their rear as they pushed their way back to Easy's encampment for the night.
Each second wasted meant that Alley was that much closer to a death he didn't deserve. Eve cursed herself over and over for not enforcing the discipline.
They should have been safe. They'd been well away from the German lines.
But it was her responsibility as squad leader to enforce it regardless.
She'd fucked up, and Alley was paying for it.
"It's alright," she said as the barn First Platoon was stationed in for the night came into view. It was better than trying to set the man up in a foxhole, so she signaled the men and headed for it. "You'll be all right, Alley."
Eve was too busy trying to reassure the injured man to notice the rising tension between Liebgott and Lesniewski on either side of her.
Jackson got there first – due to being unencumbered – and slammed the barn door open. Eve and the others wasted no time in dragging the injured man inside the suddenly silent barn.
Liebgott called out, "We got penetration! Alley's hurt; we need the Doc!"
The barn erupted into movement as Toccoa men came out of the woodwork, appearing from the loft and shedding straw to hover around the table to see, to help.
"Get him on the table," ordered Eve. "Yeah, it's Alley," she affirmed, answering the barked questions quickly, most of her attention on the badly bleeding man in front of her.
"Boyle, get Doc Roe!" Winters shouted, eyes only briefly leaving the man on the table to make sure Boyle was following orders.
Lipton took over cradling Alley's hand, picking up where Eve left off, whispering that it was going to be okay, over and over.
Eve heard Alley's dazed questioning, "Where am I? What happened?" It broke her heart, but she shoved the guilt down to be dealt with later as she found an ammo stash and started restocking what she'd used, using the excuse to turn her back on the room for a moment and regain her composure.
Besides, Winters would want another patrol, combat ready this time, and there was no way they were leaving her behind.
"Where was it?" Winters questioned.
"Sarge?" she heard Alley calling for her. Eve hurried back to check on her man.
She reached out and touched Alley's hand. "I'm here," she said, voice pitched to soothe. "You did good, soldier."
She looked away as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull from the pain and found Liebgott standing next to her. He was unraveling the pressure bandage from his aid kit. It was only at that moment that she realized he was injured at all. Her eyes flashed to the red leaking down his neck and into his ODs and undershirt. He gave her a quirked smile.
He'll be okay, she thought, and put his injury out of her mind to focus on the issue at hand.
"Buchanan?" asked Winters, demanding she answer the question.
"Sorry, sir," she said, facing him, "crossroads."
"Where the road crosses the dike," added Liebgott, finally getting pressure on the wound but unable to actually tie the bandage off properly one-handed.
"If it wasn't for your loud mouth, they'd never of known we were there," accused Lesniewski.
"Hey, you know what, Joe? Back off!" Lieb snapped back.
"Hey!" cried Eve, trying to call them both to heel.
She could see Liebgott felt guilty enough without Lesniewski rubbing it in his face. Alley was one of his best friends.
Besides, Eve felt bad enough for both of them.
Winters cut in, dispelling the argument before it could properly bloom by giving out orders: "Lesniewski, send a runner for Lieutenant Welsh. Lipton, assemble me a squad."
"Yes, sir, first squad! On your feet!" cried Lipton. The entire circle around Alley split off to go get their gear. No one was going to be sitting this one out. "Weapons and ammo only! Let's go! Let's go!"
"Give me room!" Doc Roe arrived, pushing the stragglers, including Eve, away from Alley so he could get a look at him. Eve could tell at a glance that the doc had been sleeping before the call had come in. Somehow, he didn't seem tired at all, moving with lightning speed and barking out orders. "Buchanan, get the boots off and elevate the leg. Liebgott, use the sulfa. Not too much."
"All right, let's get this done quickly; we gotta move," said Eve, yanking the boots off as quickly as she could without hurting Alley more.
Doc started checking Alley's fluttering eyes, "Hey, Alley." Roe looked over the man quickly and then gave his helpers a dismissive nod. "All right, I got him."
Eve opened her mouth to say something, but More grabbed her arm and tugged her away from Roe and Alley still prone on the table. Swallowing the thought, Eve fell into step behind him, joining the patrol without hearing the rest of what the medic said to her fallen man.
They needed to catch up to the squad if they were going to avenge Alley.
The other squad hadn't gone far, and More and Eve fell into step quickly enough. Luz, who'd been watching out for them from the back, nodded and led Eve at a jog to the front of the column where Talbert and Winters were on point. She caught Liebgott's eye as she passed him, recognizing him from his gait alone, and gave him a nod. When he nodded back, scowl still on his face, she let the worry that had been lurking in the back of her mind go.
He'll be fine, she reminded herself and focused. She didn't blame Liebgott for what happened tonight. She blamed herself. She was the one who'd let him disobey noise discipline. She should have known better.
It was a lesson she'd never forget.
Never.
Alley could've died.
And it would've been all her fault.
Someone bumped her, and knocked her thoughts back on track. She took her regret, her worry, her lingering anger, and shoved it all down into a tight box and focused exclusively on keeping up.
The group heading out was mostly Talbert's squad from First Platoon, with Winters leading the mission personally.
There was no chitchat or idleness to be found. It was a completely different atmosphere from Eve's first patrol of the night. Alley lying on the table covered in his own blood was at the forefront of everyone's mind.
Quietly, they crept along hugging the raised dike that supported the road from the ditch alongside it.
From nowhere, a machine gun opened up. Every man in the line hit dirt. Eve plastered herself to the hillside, falling next to Luz. She ignored the grass that threatened to make her sneeze with the will that comes from knowing from bitter experience that even the smallest noise could draw deadly attention.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!
Talbert crawled forwards to Winters. "MG-42?" he confirmed, voice just above a whisper. Eve only heard it because she was so close to them.
"Yeah," Winters agreed. Him, Eve heard fine.
"What the hell are they shooting at?" asked Tab. Eve could hear the confusion, the incredulity in his voice as plain as if she were reading it from his face. "What's down that road?"
"Regimental Head Quarters," Winters answered, "but that's three miles away. Why are they giving away their position?"
"They ain't as smart as me and you?" was Tab's smart-assed reply.
Surely the Krauts can't be that stupid, Eve thought with a grin. She had always liked Talbert.
She watched Winters. His helmet flicked minutely as he analyzed the situation and discarded possible maneuvers they should initiate to determine exactly what they were up against.
"I'll go check it out anyway," Winters said, deciding on a plan. "Hold here. Wait for my signal," he ordered Tab, not waiting for his orders to be passed along before he was up and cresting the dike.
He was going to scout the enemy position himself, to see if the squad could outflank the Krauts somehow, and if it was worth the risk to try going over the dike.
What will happen if he gets hit?
The thought drifted through Eve's mind, but she immediately ignored it. Sometimes even thinking a thing brought it to pass and she'd had enough bad luck tonight. She didn't want to tempt fate a second time, particularly with Winters's life on the line. Still, she wished he wouldn't do that. Sure, it was his determination to lead from the front that made him a great leader – Eve would gladly follow him anywhere – but Easy Company would be more than lost without Winters; it would shatter.
Eve closed her eyes and prayed that the Germans really were just moronically firing off into the distance and didn't actually have a fortified position on the other side of the dike just waiting for anyone stupid enough to come over it.
The Captain was gone maybe a minute before his head popped back over the ridge, much to Eve's relief. She nudged Luz to get his attention, but he'd already seen, scanning the peak same as Eve. He nudged her back with a toothy grin, giddy with pre-battle jitters.
Talbert relayed Winters's orders to Luz with hand signals, who relayed them down the line. Eve waited with bated breath for the signal to move.
Winters flashed the signal. Within moments, they were up and over the ridge.
They all crossed the road together, moving in a unit, crouched in the dark, each man praying that the Krauts were too dumb to be checking the road for movement.
They made it across safely and landed on the other side, waiting for more orders. Talbert detached his machine gunners and had them set up where the crest of the opposing hill met the road as their far right flank.
Winters surveyed the area. He ordered, sotto voce, "This is our fallback position," he indicated with his hands, "Here! Mortars, deploy here! First squad, on me." He watched for nods and then hissed, "Go!"
Taking off at a crouch, Eve fell into line behind Liebgott.
Winters led them single file forward across the seam where hill met field. They crept forward, moving quickly at a squatted run until Eve could hear the Germans talking to each other. She held her breath for a moment, certain if she could hear them, then they could hear her. Winters put his fist up and they fell into the squatted holding position he'd just ordered while he went bounding off to scout again.
Eve bit her lip in frustration. What good would scouting do if their company CO got himself killed because he risked himself doing something she – or Talbert – could easily do?
Her brain started refuting the logic almost immediately. As the commander, Winters needed to analyze the situation quickly. The fastest way to do that was by doing it himself. Plus, firsthand knowledge of the situation eliminated the chance that someone else might have missed something vital.
If whatever maneuver he decided on was to be successful, then he needed immediately relevant data from the situation, and who better to offer it than himself?
Eve hated it when logic outweighed gut instinct. Her original point still stood; some leaders were irreplaceable – and Winters was one of them. If he got himself killed scouting, she knew Easy Company would never be the same.
All she could do was hold her breath and wait. She sent up a few prayers for good measure as the minutes ticked by and still nothing.
The air was thick and close and hard to breathe properly, especially now that she had to focus on keeping her breathing even around her mounting panic that something had gone horrifically wrong.
Movement over the top of the dike caught her eye.
She recognized that silhouette and breathed.
Winters was back. He gave Talbert the hand signal to bring up the rifles.
Eve waited for Tab to pass the signal on –per procedure – before moving forward, crouched.
When she reached the line they were going to shoot from, she slithered into position next to Liebgott, making sure only the bare minimum of herself was protruding from the rocks Winters had picked for their cover.
She didn't startle when Winters crept behind her, but it was a near thing.
He whispered her target into her ear, sending shivers down her spine as she picked the Gerry out from the crowd.
The world stilled as she tuned everything out. She breathed deeply and focused, sighting her rifle as she waited for the signal. She'd been assigned one of the machine gunners and she wouldn't have time for a second shot if she missed.
She evened her breathing and opened both eyes, falling into the stillness that would have been natural on a hunt in the woods. It sickened her a little, and only a little, when she realized that was exactly what she was doing: hunting Krauts. People.
It was a disturbing thought – but then her thoughts turned to Alley and her reservations went away.
The seconds lengthened. She breathed deeply, waiting.
Winters fired.
Eve's gun went off a fraction of a second after the Captain's, becoming lost in the cacophony of sound that erupted from the rocks around her, and the scrambling Germans shouting in panic.
She emptied her clip into the now fleeing Krauts, knocking as many down as possible.
"Fall back!" Winters barked and slithered down the hill.
Eve watched the fleeing Krauts, making sure none decided to turn around and fire at them. They'd come to their senses soon though, so there wasn't any time to lose.
Liebgott was still shooting next to her. Eve touched his shoulder to get his attention. He finished his clip and then slid down the hill with her and running, stealth forgotten.
Their machine gun opened up from the ridge, providing covering fire. The boom of their mortars shook the ground. The wind brought the smoke from the impacts down to block their retreat.
The Germans got their bearings and started firing their machine guns. Long streams of bullets zipped over the Americans heads as they raced single file back to their fallback position.
"Higgins!" shouted Winters."Hammer the Krauts based on the dike, twelve o'clock!"
Eve reloaded and kept shooting, firing at the source of the tracer rounds – bright bursts of light interspersed in a line of bullets, four hidden bullets nestled between each round they could see. Liebgott landed beside her and started to do the same.
Cobb was already reloading. He'd been left to hold the fall back line with Bull's squad. "How many Krauts are left up there?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Lieb, "but we got eight in one blow."
Winters grabbed a body and ordered him to bring up Boyle and Perconte. He ran up and down the line, ordering suppressing fire – as though they weren't already trying to do that – and generally keeping up morale.
Dawn was creeping in, the sky turning a deep blue from the pitch black.
"Hashey, Buchanan, Garcia, follow me!" he said as he ran past her. "Extend the line! Hold the line here!" he ordered.
Eve spread out with the two replacements on the far side of Winters, extending their line so it appeared that they had more guys than they did and prompted the replacements to continue providing suppressing fire. She barely noticed as Winters moved to the center of the line, back to Luz and the radio, trusting she had the new guys well in hand.
Winters grabbed the receiver and began barking orders. "Harry! Tell Peacock to bring the balance of First Platoon! On the double! And another machine gun squad. Over."
He scanned around him and found a man. "Dukeman! Go get that machine gun on the right flank. Go!"
Dukeman started to run. "Christenson!" he called to the gunner.
The Krauts hit him, and he went down before he'd made it even half way down the line.
He fell almost right on top of Luz, who announced, "Fuck! Dukeman's down!" as he reloaded his gun and resumed firing.
"Hashey," said Eve, assessing the situation and who she could afford to send. "Get Dukeman back to Easy!"
"Got it, Sarge!" said Hashey, peeling off and going to assist the man. Eve slid over to fill in the line a bit more and checked that Garcia was still holding up well on their far left flank.
The Germans stopped firing eventually; apparently assuming Easy had pulled back.
Winters didn't pull them back. They held the position as the sky ghosted its way into dawn.
Eve split her canteen amongst the replacements who had foolishly drunk whatever was in their own canteens on the way last night and thus had none left over this morning. Not for the first time was Eve thankful for Sobel being such an ass. Yes, it had been rough going through it at the time, but Eve knew she was far better prepared than these green kids out here because of him, and she knew better than to drink all her water right away.
"Garcia," she said to the man next to her.
She'd fixed his name in her mind when Winters had positioned them (it was always good to know the name of the guy you were set with) but honestly, Eve often muddled the names of the replacements, particularly since those of the new wave had just arrived. She did know they were both in Bull's squad, and part of the group that had hiked out to rescue them, but she hadn't bothered getting to know them personally.
It was a habit most of the Toccoa men had developed after the first wave of replacements in Normandy barely lasted an hour after they'd arrived. To be honest, sometimes Eve felt better not knowing their names when they died right away – and a lot of them did. After a few weeks of combat, the new boys blended right in with everyone else and became part of the unit.
"Yeah, Sarge?" he prompted.
"I'm gonna go walk the line, you good here?" she said, pretending she hadn't been distracted.
He spared her a nod before refocusing on the line; the other replacement, Hashey, never even broke his concentration on the ridge the enemy was behind.
Eve gave both a pat on the back before she moved on. Bull had done a good job with these two.
She left them, moving up the line at a crouch. It was too dark for anyone on the dike to see her moving – at least she hoped so – but she moved cautiously all the same, carefully scanning each man as she passed them. She wanted to check on Liebgott's injury.
Two-thirds up the line, she found Liebgott catching some sleep next to Cobb.
"Liebgott," she hissed. Knowing his name would most likely wake him up, she didn't touch him. "Hey, Lieb," she tried again when he didn't immediately respond.
Worried that Liebgott had fallen unconscious, she shot a concerned glance at an observing Cobb. She was slightly appeased when Cobb only shrugged. Apparently, he hadn't noticed anything of concern with the man.
She'd take that as a good sign.
"Liebgott!" she barked, about to give in and shake the stubborn man when he came awake with a start.
"What?" he growled, grouchy.
She felt her face lighten into a smile. If Liebgott was bitching, he was fine.
Thank God for small mercies, she thought.
"How's the neck?" she asked.
Liebgott wasn't above hiding injuries. None of the Toccoa veterans were. It made her job harder as a sergeant, but she also appreciated that the men in her squad were so dedicated to their buddies.
"Fine," he grumbled.
"Let me see it?" she asked.
He didn't even hesitate, much to her surprise, before tilting his head, so she could get at the knot on the bandage he had shoddily tied around his neck. This close to him, she could see the blood already seeping through the pressure pad.
She pulled it loose. He hissed as she indelicately pried off the tacky blood glued to his skin. She bit her lip in response to his pain but kept on anyway. Once the bandage was gone, she was close enough to realize that whatever it was that missed him had come damn close to killing her friend.
"Fuck, Lieb," said Cobb, also getting a good look at the wound. He, a veteran for far longer than she, recognized the severity of the wound immediately. A hair more they would have left Liebgott in the field as a casualty. He wouldn't have even made it to the table like Alley.
"It's not that bad," he said.
Eve shot him a look plainly outlining that only people who were badly injured and either incredibly stupid, incredibly stubborn, or both, said things like that. But she kept the redundant statement back.
She pulled out her aid kit, and with a wave of her hand, Liebgott tilted his head again so she could pepper his wound with a bit more sulfa. He'd made a mess of it the first time around from what she could see – what with white powder still dusting his ODs and undershirt despite running around all night and a firefight – but allowed that the angle he'd been working from was terrible. She gave his neck a fresh spray of white powder.
He hissed and flinched away.
"Don't be such a baby," she chided, grabbing onto his jacket to yank him back into position.
"It fucking hurts!" he griped.
"Lets you know you're alive," she replied absentmindedly, busy unraveling the fresh pressure bandage.
"Yeah? I'll remind you of that the next time you get wounded."
She gave him a patiently amused look and wrapped the bandage around his neck. "I'm not going to be wounded again, Lieb," she told him confidently, thinking wishfully and adding a prayer. She did not want to go to a hospital. "The next bullet I take will be the last, just you watch."
"No chance, Buchanan," he shot back, choking as she cinched the ends tight. She immediately loosened it up a bit so he could breathe.
"You'll just have to stick around to look after me then," she told him with a smirk, finally satisfied with the way the bandage was sitting. "That should do until Doc gets a look at you," she told him. "Make sure you see him, alright? Don't make me chase you down and drag you."
He gave her a smile that inspired no confidence in her.
She shot him a glare, knowing that he was screwing with her on purpose and went back to her spot on the line, patting Cobb on the back as she passed him. He gave her a nod that she took as confirmation that he'd look after Lieb for her and headed back to her side of the line.
On her way, she passed Winters and Tab in the middle of the line, and the Captain flagged her down.
"What's up?" asked Winters, scanning her face.
"Liebgott's wounded," she reported.
He looked worried. "Really?"
"Machine gun round clipped his neck," she said. "It's not bad."
"Okay," he said, trusting her judgment. "Make sure you get some sleep. Four hour shifts."
She nodded, knowing this drill intimately. "Yes, sir."
"That means you too, Ev," said Winters before she had the chance to dart off. "Make sure you get some sleep."
"You got it, sir," she said with a smile and left them. When she passed Tab, she gave him a teasing face that conveyed her disgust at Winters mollycoddling. He might have started coughing to hide his laugher, but it drew Winters's worried attention off her so she snuck away back to her spot on the line.
"Hey, Garcia," she said as she slid in next to him. She didn't want him thinking she was a Kraut because she'd startled him and shooting her.
"Hey, Sarge," he acknowledged, sliding down from his firing position. The clouds overhead repositioned themselves enough that the blood from Liebgott's neck staining her jacket became visible. "You all right?" he asked concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, shrugging him off. "Get some sleep. You too, Hashey. I'll take first watch."
"You got it, Sarge," said Hashey. The two relieved men got comfortable.
Eve settled in to keep watch, knowing more fighting was on the horizon with the dawn.
She stole a catnap sometime in the early hours before dawn, Sergeant Grant from First Platoon graciously spotting her so she didn't have to wake the replacements just yet.
She woke to Garcia shaking her shoulder. He leapt backwards to avoid the muzzle of her M1 punching him in the stomach.
"Sorry," she mumbled, coming into full consciousness only after her weapon would have killed him if it had been bayonetted like it had been in her dream.
"The rest of First Platoon is here. Winters wants you to move to the center of the line to join him," he told her.
"Got it," Eve said standing. "Watch yourselves."
She was out of earshot before she heard the man's reply.
Fully awake, she found Tab where he'd been last night: at the dead center of the line. "Morning, Tab," she said.
"Morning, Ev," he replied, as though they were meeting for breakfast and not on a battlefield.
"Where's Winters?" she asked, noticing that he was no longer present despite her being where she'd left him last night.
Tab looked across the field. It took only seconds for Eve to spot the prone Captain, who was out on point surveying a map of the area.
"He been there all night?" she asked.
"Most of it."
"He know the rest of first is here?"
"I'll go tell him," volunteered Tab before moving to Winters's position in a belly crawl.
Eve couldn't hear what he was saying, but she had a guess.
She turned her head to count their reinforcements. The rest of First Platoon had shown up, Gordon and More bringing another .30 caliber. Lieutenant Peacock was there with Martin and Bull's squads. She didn't see Welsh, but that didn't mean he wasn't there.
Knowing her forces, she turned her attention to the tactical position they were in and the likely maneuver Winters would order.
It was obvious to her that they were at the disadvantage. The Germans could easily outflank them using the dike as cover and then the high ground to pick them off at their leisure. If they didn't move out of this ditch, the Germans would eventually figure that out and take them by surprise. It would be a slaughter.
Their only chance was to rush the dike and gain the high ground advantage before the Germans did the same to them on the other side.
Apparently, Winters understood the same thing.
He crawled back with Talbert and outlined his plan within her hearing.
He outlined how he wanted it executed. He, Lieutenant Peacock, and Talbert were going to be the squad leaders. Tab was going to lead ten guys along the left flank, Peacock would take ten up the dike, and Eve was a part of the ten meant to follow Winters up the middle.
His final order brought chills down her spine. They were fixing bayonets for close combat.
She could still feel the weight of her bayonet sliding through that Kraut boy's back from the barn. She closed her eyes to center herself again. Now was certainly not the time to think about that night. She had to focus.
"Go on the red smoke," Winters instructed, looking up and down the line at the men assembled. He waited for a breath of time, mentally preparing himself. His eyes fluttered open as he hurled the smoke grenade into the field.
He hopped out from the line and ran forward.
No one moved with him.
They couldn't move to follow him until the smoke popped. It was protocol.
Eve waited with bated breath as she watched Winters running across the field.
He was wide open for enemy fire with no one with him to provide covering fire for when he eventually made it to the top of the dike. He'd be easy pickings for the Krauts.
She knew that once he got there, yes, he'd be on high ground, but he'd be completely alone and exposed to the enemy if they were still waiting below.
The anxiety was nearly enough to drag her after him, but her training held. She waited, terrified that this fleeting image of his disappearing back would be the last time she ever saw him alive.
Her eyes found the little silver canister hissing innocently without releasing the red smoke that held the balance of Winters's life in each second it took to deploy.
Winters was more than halfway across the field before the smoke began to waft up.
Eve popped up and ran as fast as she could, outstripping some of the boys, particularly the replacements, in her haste to get to Winters's aid.
She watched her Captain crest the hill, completely exposed as she'd feared and willed herself to go faster. Ground disappeared beneath her feet, but it didn't seem nearly fast enough. She heard the distinctive sound of M1fire. She counted the shots automatically in her head as Winters went through them. He'd emptied a clip, she realized as a long pause caused her heart to stop. Fifty feet in front of her, he knelt down and reloaded.
He was finishing off his second clip when Eve finally reached him.
It took only seconds for her to take in the situation. There were too many Germans to count, thankfully fleeing. She was hard pressed to pick a target and her first few shots went wild into the masses.
A bullet sliced through the air next to her ear, the heat and speed creating a blur of air that she reeled back from on instinct.
Sense returned to her and Eve collapsed onto her stomach, giving the few Krauts still levelheaded enough to be firing back as little a target as possible. She picked one of the ones still shooting and fired, knocking him down.
She started picking off Krauts, one by one. She emptied her clip, each shot finding a target of some kind but moved on before she really thought about it. She finished two clips when she heard Lieutenant Peacock cry, "It's a whole other company!"
"No shit!" Martin spat back.
Eve turned her attention from the still panicking Germans to the other hill where there was a swarm of Germans running down into the fray.
Oh God, she thought, fumbling with her reload as it struck her how incredibly outnumbered they were.
Winters had only brought thirty odd guys, barely a full platoon, and they were winning against a battalions worth of Germans crowding their way down the hill.
Each and every second Eve wasted reloading was another moment she was certain she was going to die – certain the Krauts were going to figure out they had the numbers and turn around to start fighting instead of just trying to run.
The longer the moments dragged – and still only sporadic return fire from the occasional Kraut – Eve was able to turn off her anxiety and focus. It helped that she could hear Hoobler, just down the line from her, once again counting again as he picked off Krauts. She'd lost her own count somewhere after the third clip, not that keeping count was a conscious endeavor. It was a reassuringly familiar sound, despite how disturbing she might find it later, once she was out of the heat of the moment.
Her tally of the men who owed her for their death was ever growing. She did the best she could to keep track and remember them all. Perhaps it was so she could mourn for them in some distant future she hoped she'd live to see, perhaps it was to somehow justify her actions to her Maker. Perhaps then she would feel sickened at the ease and exhilaration that came with a shootout like this.
Blood was pumping through her body, leaving a heady rush. Her fingers tingled with each squeeze of the trigger, each shot a spike of adrenaline to her brain. It was far too easy. The Germans ran about, not even bothering to offer resistance. It was a turkey shoot.
She could hear Winters yelling the gibberish code to call in heavy artillery fire. He must be on the radio somewhere down the line. It was already so deafening without the thundering big guns that Eve wasn't entirely sure that's what she was hearing until he repeated himself a third time.
She registered Martin and Webster leaving the protection of the dike and turned to give them covering fire.
Scared they were heading right for an ambush, Eve kept a close eye on the pair as they scrambled down the hill to pull some Germans out of the drain running under the dike.
She quickly realized how disastrous it could have been if not for Martin's quick thinking. If Marin hadn't noticed that grate, those Krauts could have assaulted them from the rear as they were clearing the field for wounded.
The two men quickly detained the Krauts, Martin bellowing for them to move so he could get back to the fighting.
The ground underneath the German infantry came to life, bucking and rolling, sending men flying into the air in pieces, some evaporating on the spot. Eve plastered herself in the grass of the hill, cursing. She hatedartillery fire.
Winters selected someone – Boyle, she thought recognizing the man, genuinely surprised that he'd managed to slip under her radar when she'd checked on Liebgott last night– to scout high ground and monitor where the shells were hitting so Winters could provide adjustments to HQ Company for them to dial in the guns.
The artillery was falling much closer to them now. Each shell was inching its way not towards the Germans but towards them.
"Take cover! It's German artillery!" Winters shouted. Eve plastered herself flat against the dirt, taking stock of the men around her doing the same now that she didn't have the ability to pick off more targets.
Boyle scrambled up the hill and was standing in the middle of the road when the shells started landing around him. It was only a matter of time until shrapnel from an explosion caught him.
Fuck! Eve scrambled up to go get him even before Winters called, "Boyle's down!" and popped from the line to reach the man, calling for aid again as he went. "Get Boyle, he's down!"
Because he was closer, the Captain reached Boyle first much to Eve's chagrin. The man was lying in the road in a fetal position.
"Come on, help me!" said Winters, crouched by Boyle's head.
Eve didn't waste time checking to see if he was alive when she finally reached the two men, just grabbed the man by his shirt at the shoulder and started towing him off the road.
Luz – the only man who'd heard Winters and had come along – grabbed the fallen man's gear before sliding after them into the ditch on the opposite side of the road.
Eve plastered herself over Boyle's exposed side and let out a grunt of surprise as Winters did the same over them both.
For some reason, God was smiling down on them and the fighting ceased pretty quickly after the battery of artillery finished.
Danger gone, Eve got off Boyle and checked him. Still alive,she thought, relieved and then she looked at his leg.
It was bleeding something terrible. There was almost nothing left of his thigh, just a mess of shrapnel and blood. Eve cursed and ripped through her pockets for her med-kit and the sulfa powder. It was designed to stop the bleeding and cleanse the wound all in one go, but it hurt like hell.
Guarnere and Christenson came to help too. They were far less squeamish than Eve was, and took action on the wound with a stoicism Eve certainly lacked.
Boyle screamed as the white powder doused his thigh. Luz shushed the man, talking nonsense to keep him calm while Eve fumbled with the bandage she'd ripped free.
He screamed again as she tied it tight. Eve pushed down the bile and put more sulfa on places the bandage didn't cover.
Someone pushed her out of the way. She looked up and found Roe already tending to the man with his usual quiet competence.
She had never been so grateful for her friend than she was at this moment, still shaking with her own helplessness as Boyle sobbed his pain in the dirt.
"I've got you, Boyle," said Roe. "You're gonna be just fine."
Eve watched the injured man inexplicably calm down under Roe's calm hands. There was nothing more she could do, but she didn't want to just leave.
"I'll stay with him," said Luz. She looked at the radio man, but his attention was still on Boyle. "He'll be okay."
Eve nodded, too tired to argue, especially when there was so much else to do. With a groan, she got up to help patrol the field for surviving Krauts.
There weren't many. Those that were still alive were eager enough to just surrender without fuss. Bull and Christenson were hauling dead Krauts into a row to be counted at the side of the road.
A quick scan of their uniforms gave Eve another shock. These were SS, Hitler's super soldiers, with the distinctive double lightning bolt 'S's' on their collars. But these were just kids. Some couldn't have been older than fourteen. Only a handful of the bodies looked like they needed to shave.
No wonder the supposedly elite men hadn't even put up a fight. They were just kids.
Nixon's voice rose unbidden in her mind, recalling that the Krauts in Holland were supposed to be kids.
She was going to be sick.
No.Eve thought and pushed the nausea trying to swamp her down with every ounce of her determination. She couldn't afford to show that kind of weakness, that kind of sentiment. Not here where everyone could see and think her some fainting flower again.
Eve took whatever humanity she felt at their ages and shoved it where it belonged, well away from where it could affect her. She hadn't been accused of female sentimentality yet, and she wanted to keep it that way, so she choked down any remorse she felt along with the tears. Here were boys who would never get to go home to their family, who hadn't realized the high cost of war until it was far too late to do anything about it.
Pop. Pop. Pop. Ping!
Gunfire? Who the hell is still shooting? Eve thought, easily recognizing the M1 fire from the Karabiners that the Germans favored.
Within moments, she'd located Liebgott. The man was lying flat on his belly, using a dead Kraut as cover while he picked off wounded Germans still moaning in the field.
She watched him fire several rounds and had a long moment in which she could have said something, could have stopped him, and didn't. She shoved the part of her that was horrified by the youth of these particular Nazi elite to the rear in favor of her anger as she took note of the blood soaking Liebgott's collar again, the fresh bandage no longer enough to keep the thick red flow at bay.
She understood the anger Liebgott felt all too well. The guilt that still ached in her chest for what happened to Alley this morning and Boyle just now was like a physical weight on her.
To her shame, it was Winters who finally had enough and reprimanded her team leader.
Eve turned away as Winters assigned Liebgott prisoner transportation and then stripped him of his spare ammo.
Like lightning, Eve realized she might not like the person she was at the end of the war. She hadn't really thought of stopping Liebgott from killing the wounded Krauts – even though he was doing it for nothing more than sport – had even had rationalized it in her mind as justice.
When had she become so cold hearted?
She couldn't judge Liebgott for his actions, though – Alley was his best friend after all – but she was deeply ashamed that she hadn't had the strength to stop him. Not when a part of her had wanted to join him.
That no one other than Winters had thought anything of it either did not comfort her.
Sure, there was an inherent danger in prisoners. The Allies didn't always have a place to hold them, and more often than not, the bastards escaped back to their lines to relay important information to the German command.
But the realization of the casual disregard for the lives of the enemy was chilling even as she tried to justify it in her own mind.
Eve waited until Liebgott ran by her towards the Germans before saying something to Winters.
"He feels guilty about what happened to Alley," she said, unsure if she was trying to justify his actions, or her own. She made no mention of her own guilt, though she was sure it was written all over her face.
"I know," replied Winters, still watching the man round up the Krauts. "How are you doing, Sergeant?" he asked, finally turning to look her over. With a flick of his eyes, she felt her soul laid bare for him. Her guilt and grief and rage in every line of her body. She knew because the man in front of her echoed it.
"Fair," she replied.
"That's good," he said, turning back to the battlefield, his eyes blank and searching. Eve saw that look often enough on men who'd seen too much. To recognize it on a face she knew so well was startling and terrifying. How long until her own face looked like that? Did she already have that long distant gaze in her own eyes?
Unable to bear it anymore, she changed the subject to happier prospects. "To be honest, sir, I'm going to be really happy whenever we get back to hot showers. I miss water that's not falling from the sky."
She'd pulled a smile from him. "Me too, Eve," he said. "Me too."
She wandered off and left him to brood.
The rest of Easy Company and all the accoutrements that accompanied camp had arrived and set up on the road.
Roe was serving breakfast on the road. Eve watched, making sure everyone was either in line for food or had a bowl of some kind in their hands.
Not feeling particularly hungry for mushed oats, Eve settled into the grass to lean against the hill. She closed her eyes for a moment, just trying to make everything go away. She could really use a shower. It had been more than two weeks since anyone in Easy Company had had the opportunity to get clean. Eve was almost surprised the Krauts hadn't smelled them before they'd been able to surprise them.
Needing a break and a bit of comfort, Eve dug around in her pockets and found one of her coveted chocolate bars. She unwrapped it with reverence and took a small bite. She allowed the taste to melt into her mouth, coating her tongue with the flavor, so it could wash out the vile taste that had come to settle since the battle ended. She closed her eyes and savored it, this one good thing of today.
"Buchanan," said Captain Nixon, startling her. She looked up at him and blinked with a wince. Obligingly, he moved over so he blocked out the sun for her. She gave him a grateful smile as his eyes flicked over her, presumably making sure she was uninjured. She was glad to see him. "Have you seen Captain Winters?"
Eve nodded and pointed him in the right direction. She was aware that he already knew where to find the Captain and was just checking up on her, but she didn't mind. It was a nice gesture in any case.
Plus, if anyone could snap the Captain out of his mood, it was Nixon.
Not wanting to use more of her rationed supply of chocolate, knowing she would have many, many more days of needing a moment of happiness in an otherwise shit day to come, Eve put the chocolate away without indulging in more.
Moment of peace over, Eve stood up and got in line for the coffee someone was brewing in a giant stove pot. It was more lukewarm water than anything like coffee, but it would do. She nudged Doc Roe in the direction of Winters. The Cajun took one look and fished out some coffee for the man. Easy could always count on Doc Roe to look after his men.
XxX
It wasn't until they got back to camp and Eve caught a decent nap to catch up on what little sleep she'd had the night before, that the woman realized she still had to give her report to Winters about the patrol last night.
She needed to explain why it had gone so far south and accept the reprimand that came with it.
If she'd enforced noise discipline better, Alley wouldn't have been shot.
It was a hard way to learn a lesson.
Eve dusted herself off, shedding stray strands of hay from the straw pile she'd taken refuge in as she walked towards the CP.
Hopefully, Winters would be there and not off doing rounds or something.
Flash!
Eve flinched as a bright light went off an inch from her face on the right.
"Miss Buchanan! Evelyn!"
"What do you think about the war, Miss Buchanan!"
"Miss! Look this way, Miss!"
"Do you have a sweetheart, Miss Buchanan!"
Flash-pop! Flash! Flash! FLASH!
Eve threw her hands up to cover her face, completely unprepared for the onslaught of reporters clattering around her like carrion crows.
"What do your parents think about you being a soldier?"
"What's it like being in the Army?"
"Pose for me, Sweetheart!"
"Hey! HEY!"
Someone miraculously slipped between Eve and the vultures fending them off with his body. She looked up and saw Captain Nixon standing barrier between her and the reporters.
"Sergeant Buchanan is unavailable for your questions at this time," barked Nixon. He grabbed her arm and gave her a gentle push.
Eve got her legs to start moving before another damnable flash went off in her face.
"Nothin' to see here, folks!" said Welsh, also flanking her and acting as a barricade between the reporters and Eve.
Nixon led her quickly to the intelligence hut. Eve slipped in without further prompting, Welsh just behind her.
"Sorry, folks," said Nix with an insincere smile, "No reporters in the intelligence hut, you understand?"
He slammed the door on them, some of the photographers still clamoring for another picture or ten from Evelyn.
Eve sighed and sagged against one of the chairs, feeling overwhelmed.
She'd dealt with the press before, but never had they been like that, like she was some movie star or a somebody people gave a damn about.
"What the hell was that all about?" she said out loud, looking at the two officers.
Nixon grimaced. "There are always reporters on the front lines. We didn't see much of them in Normandy because the whole invasion was so hush-hush, but Monty's plan is big news back in the states. And so are you."
"Me?" said Eve, completely incredulous. "Why the hell do they care about me?"
"You're a national hero, Ev," said Nixon.
"I'm being serious, sir," said Eve.
"So am I," said Nixon. He walked to the window and pulled the curtain. Immediately, five flashes went off rapid fire one after another. "You're famous, Ev."
XxX
Eve spent the afternoon hiding in the Intelligence hut. It was dark again when she finally left. Thankfully, the reporters were long gone, but Eve hadn't been willing to pull the curtain again and check.
She found Winters at the CP and, after apologizing for the delay, relayed her report.
"You did well, Sergeant," he said when she'd finished. "Sometimes accidents happen in the field. You handled it to the best of your ability and you brought all of your men back. That's all anyone can ask for. Doc Roe tells me that Alley is expected to make a full recovery after a stint a the hospital in England."
"That's good news, sir. Regardless, I accept full responsibility for his injuries. I should have enforced the noise discipline. It will never happen again."
"You're a good sergeant, Ev. You care a lot about the men under your command and that's the highest compliment I can give. Just don't let your past mistakes keep you from doing the job you're good at, okay?" said Winters with a reassuring smile.
Eve nodded. Winter's words were like a balm, lifting the burden of guilt from her shoulders. She still felt its weight, but she wasn't being smothered by it any longer.
He let her have a moment before he switched the subject. "How are you doing with everything, Ev?"
"What do you mean, sir?" she asked.
"Welsh and Nix told me," said Winters, giving her a look she didn't understand.
She shifted. "I know how to handle the press, sir. They just surprised me, is all."
"I have faith in you, Sergeant. Your squad has the night off tonight, so I suggest you get some shut-eye. Who knows where we'll be pulled next?"
"Yes, sir," said Eve, saluting. When he returned the gesture, a bit surprised – it wasn't often he got saluted in a warzone, training was a different matter – Eve turned on her heel and left the room, praying for a bit of a break after so much action.
She didn't know if her heart could take anymore.
-End Chapter-
Thank you all so much for reading. I'm really glad the site issues were resolved in time for this update. Big thank you's to people who reviewed to let me know this story was still being read and loved. Updates are every Thursday. See you all next week.