"Flawless Abandon, Irrevocable Surrender"
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Band of Brothers' – mini-series OR the book nor do I intend ANY disrespect to the real men of Easy Co. All that is mine is Grace Grant and a deep, profound respect for the real heroes.
LAST TIME:
Grace felt her heart thud erotically. He walked forward, eyes darkened and pressed his lips against hers, groaning at the wet warmth of her skin. Bringing a tentative hand up, he stroked her cheek and cupped her face. As his fingers caressed down her neck and onto her naked shoulder, she shivered into his touch, her breath shaking.
Calming his own breath, he sighed into her mouth, "I should let you get dressed".
"Yeah…you should", she smiled against his lips. "Will I see you at the briefing?"
He shook his head, "no…Winters wants to do it himself. Company CP." She nodded as he pulled away and took in her flushed skin and pink lips, "you're a good leader…the patrol is going to be fine".
"Thank you".
"I love you", he responded ardently.
"I love you too".
With her heart hammering in her ears, Grace smirked as Ron clenched his jaw, his eyes traveling back down to her naked shoulders, and took a deep breath and walked swiftly out of the steamed bathroom.
Grace smiled at his retreating backside, silently commending him for his inner strength to walk away…if the roles had been reversed, she did not know if she possessed that kind of restraint.
After toweling herself off and slipping into her clean uniform, Grace turned to her reflection in the small mirror above the sink.
She recognized herself apart from her slight weight loss due to the dire circumstances of Bastogne. Her dark hazel eyes appeared larger on her pale face; her dark, damp hair was wild from running the towel through it. Twisting her hair into a bun and ignoring the dried curls that fell slightly into her face, she paused, entranced by the normalcy and familiarity of the movement.
Life goes on.
A month ago, they were all in Bastogne…a couple weeks ago, she was in a bombed out barn in Foy.
A year ago, they were in Aldbourne.
The German forces were in fact losing the war at this point in time…and with that news flying across the globe, people back home were getting back into the swing of things…vacations, parties, weddings, babies, new jobs…life.
Grace secured her loose bun and her arms dropped to her sides, her eyes remaining on her matured reflection. If they got home…when they got home…would they all move on too? Would they heal…or would they still be losing sleep? Could they bury the past, their current present, and live? Was she too deep in this, too late for recovery…her adult life was entrenched in war, did she know how to live without it?
Walking out into Ron's room and noting its vacancy, Grace went to hers, gathered her helmet and rifle, and walked down the hallway and out into the main room.
"Grace".
She turned to the voice, "Lip, you know there's showers back there? Let me find Luz, send you a fresh change of clothes while you shower and lay down, huh?"
Lip smiled, "I'll be happy to do that…but when you find George, tell him we've got movement on the Kraut's side…he needs to lay a few bazooka rounds into the house across the river".
"I'm on it", she replied making her way to the opened front door, "there's an open room to the left right inside the hallway". She turned and winked back at him, "it's all yours, Lieutenant".
Crossing the street to the large building they were keeping supplies in, Grace strode in and smirked hearing the all too familiar sounds of the boys bartering for fresh goods.
"God damnit Johnny, you're breakin' my heart", George drawled.
"Come on George", Johnny started, "just give me ten…ten, fifteen bars".
"I'll give you Juicy Fruit, you happy?" George counter-offered.
Grace smirked as she followed Vest into the room, "Lieutenant", Cobb acknowledged her, standing beside Martin.
"What do ya say, what do ya hear?" she said, nostalgically thinking of Bill and employing his usual greeting. Her eyes skipped down to the piles of Hershey bars in front of Luz, "ah…so this is why George Luz is suddenly so popular".
"There wouldn't be any other reason, Gracie, let's get serious here", Johnny joked back at Luz's amused face.
Grace turned to George, "can you get someone to send a fresh uniform to Lip over at CP?" He nodded, "wonderful, thank you. Also, there's a report of movement on the Krauts side…Lip wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds into a house across the river".
"You know your way around a bazooka, Lieutenant…you're better suited at it than Luz", Cobb snarked, referencing her infamous run in France with the weapon.
Grace chuckled, "consider it retirement, Cobb".
Johnny tried his luck again, "just a few bars, Luz come on".
Grace heard footsteps approaching as Cobb joined in, "George, for a friend…you're first platoon at heart!" She smirked at their persistence.
"There's not enough to go around!" George insisted as Joe swept in, Webster and Jones in tow.
"Whoa Hershey bars!" Joe celebrated in a loud voice.
"Jesus Christ", George seethed.
"Who they for, come on George", Joe contested, winking at Grace.
"Not for you", Luz shook his head.
"Captain Speirs here, Lieutenant Grant?" Jones asked in her direction.
She shook her head, "not here, no…I'd try down by the river". Jones nodded and took in the boisterous activity around him.
"Hey big mouth", a voice called from the doorway; "give the kid a Hershey bar, huh?" Grace smiled, turning to Frank Perconte.
"You've got to be shittin' me!" George called as Frank walked up to the group, a smile on his face.
"Jesus, look who it is", Joe laughed.
"Hey guys", he greeted, leaning in to peck Grace on the cheek, "hey Gracie". He took in the large room, "I like what you've done with the place, Angel".
"Yeah, yeah, we did good, huh?" she laughed incredulously, glad he was back but hoping he was well enough to be back. "How are you feeling…are you ok to be here?"
"As long as everybody keeps their hands off my ass, I'll be alright", he nodded.
"I can't promise that one, Perco", she joked to him as Joe, Johnny, and Vest laughed.
"Here, have a Hershey's", George tossed him one over their heads.
"Hey, he gets a fuckin' Hershey bar?" Joe asked, disgusted.
George shrugged, "well he got shot in the ass".
"So it's your fault you stuck your big ass out in the wind?" Johnny asked Frank.
Frank's shoulders went up, "no, but I expect a little sympathy from ya, right?"
Johnny leaned over, "you want me to rub it for ya, huh?"
Grace smiled and shook her head at the noise and the boys' antics, knowing it had been forever since they were able to freely give each other hell without the threat of a Kraut barrage. It was a welcome kind of chaos…she realized then how much she had missed the raised voices, the ribbing, the yelling, the animated frolics of her men. She looked up and caught Jones and Webster's over-stimulated expressions.
"I was gonna give you a handful of Hershey's because I figured you weren't gonna get a shower", George said in her ear from beside her, "but somehow you obviously have had one…" he trailed off suggestively.
"If I had taken a shower with all the men, I'm sure you would have heard about it by now", she affirmed to him quietly, laughing to herself at the imposturous image.
"Heard about it?...honey, I would have run down there to see it…and then join in".
She bit back a laugh, "Jesus…real appropriate, Georgie".
"So…what gives?"
"There's a shower in my room…well attached to Speirs' room", she easily informed, instantly regretting it as George's eyes crinkled at the edges.
"Oh I see…you and Sparky…"
"No…Unfortunately not…" she shook her head at his assumption, amused at his interest.
"Well get on that, Sparkette…I'm living vicariously through him".
"Sparkette?" Grace asked, her eyebrow and voice raised.
"Oh shit", Joe laughed, "cat's out of the bag…good one, Luz".
Frank laughed animatedly, "Oh, that's right!"
"I was hoping to spring that on her at a better time, George", Johnny smirked.
"Lieutenant Grant", Grace turned to one of the battalion runners, "roster here for you".
"Thank you", she replied, looking it over as Johnny and Frank came closer to the group.
"Well I heard the Krauts are finished", Frank said as Grace looked over the list.
"Well just to make sure, we gatta row across the fuckin' river tonight", Joe solemnly said, "grab a few, and ask 'em in person", he finished, looking over at Grace.
Frank looked at Grace, "is he kiddin' me?"
She shook her head, "I wish he was…welcome back Frank".
"Oh Jesus, that reminds me Web", George started, grabbing a box, "I need you run this over to OP2…grenade launchers to the night patrol…any day now, Web".
George began counting off boxes, throwing them into the box Web was holding, and Grace looked back down to her roster. There were sixteen names on it…two translators; Joe and Web. Vest spoke up, "hey, did you hear about what happened on Dog Company's patrol? Replacement Lieutenant blew his foot off…stepped on a shoe mine. Fresh in from West Point", annoyed at Vest's candidness, Grace glanced over worriedly at Jones who was looking back at her, his face paling. "He had to go home empty-handed", Vest finished.
"No shit", George commented, "maybe he was a friend of yours, Lieutenant", he called over to Jones. Grace bit her tongue. These men who had been with her since D-Day were so accustomed to loss of life that they didn't bat an eye when something happened. If you wanted to survive, you waited to grieve on your own time…Grace knew this all too well, but still felt a pang of sadness and sorrow for the young Lieutenant who was trying so hard to prove himself.
Cobb spoke up, his eyes past Grace, settled on Vest's supply box, "hey Vest, what you got in there…more Hershey bars and Lucky Strikes for your rear echelon fucks to hoard, huh?"
"Hey, hey, hey", George started, followed by the rest of the men's distaste for Cobb's lack of empathy or timing,
Grace looked him right in the eye, "Cobb, with the mouth, please…the kid's just trying to do his job, alright?"
Cobb shut his mouth, but not before George's limit had been breached, "Jesus Christ…you know what, the hell with it", he threw a handful of bars down onto the table as Grace turned to him, putting a hand on his chest.
"You gatta go blow that house up", she reminded him before he stormed off; he smirked slightly at her.
"That's right, Sparkette", he winked at her, then asked Johnny to keep an eye out on the stuff.
"Alright, I'm going to the bank of the river", she announced, forgoing the Hershey bars and grabbing pack of Lucky's, stealthily slipping them into her jacket pocket.
Ooooooooo
"Grace…just who I was about to send for", Winters beckoned, Ron by his side.
"Afternoon", she stopped beside Ron, Winters looking out over the river in front of them.
"Intelligence give you any information on the CP?" Winters inquired.
"Third house on the left", Ron answered, lowering his binoculars. Grace recognized them as the pair she stole for him while she was at the hospital. She looked over the river to the house they would invade that night.
"Soon as our men are back in the boats, I want battalion on the banks opening fire".
"Captain Winters?"
The three of them turned to see Private Vest approaching. "Yes, Private?"
"Request permission to accompany the patrol, sir…I heard Lieutenant Jones is going as an observer and I'd like to get some action in if the Krauts really are finished for good", Vest reasoned to them
"Of course, request permitted…there's a briefing…CP in five minutes", Winters nodded, turning around again. Grace nodded at Vest's smile and winked.
"Yes sir, thank you sir", Vest nodded and stalked off.
"You've got your men in mind, Grace?" Winters asked, his eyes fixed across the river again.
She nodded to his back, "I do".
"Good. Let's go brief the men". He turned in the direction of CP and Grace followed. Ron grabbed her hand and squeezed; Grace turned to him and smiled, reaching into her pocket and pressing the new pack of Lucky's into his palm before turning around after Dick.
"Ten Hut! Jones called out as Dick and Grace walked into the room.
"At ease", Dick breathed, the men immediately collapsing back into their seats, their feet propping themselves up on the table. "Gentlemen", he greeted. "As you can see, we've assembled fifteen of you here for this prisoners snatch tonight at zero one hundred…just a couple of points", he nodded as he looked around the room, "secured four rubber boats will get you across the river, First Lieutenant Grant is the ranking officer and platoon leader and will be leading this patrol…Second Lieutenant Jones will also be going along as an observer." Grace turned to look at Jones who smiled arrogantly towards the corner of the room, Grace turned to see who he was making eyes with…and locked eyes with Webster. Grace understood the desire to see action, to do something of action while deployed and at war…but God damnit, every patrol had the potential for death and she was sick of new meat treating it like a game. Dick continued, "the whole battalion will be covering your withdrawal." He produced two whistles, "we hear these whistles, we open up…so don't blow them 'til you're back in the boats with your prisoners", he handed the two whistles to Grace.
"And if the house turns out to be empty, sir?" Grace asked.
"We don't think it will, but in any case, it's a out-post and we want it destroyed, so you'll have to lay some ammo on a time-delay. We have to move fast, but carefully. Put a perimeter around the house, once that's in place, get your rifle grenades in the first four windows, get your assault team in quick…", he turned to Grace who nodded knowingly at him, "ok, good". He turned back to the men, "you're in good hands. Remember it's about prisoners…don't pop the first thing that moves. We clear?"
"Yes sir", the room chorused.
"Good", he answered. "Grace, you picked your assault team?"
All eyes landed on her as she nodded, "McClung, Sisk, Cobb, Garcia, and Webster, as translator". Webster could use some dirt on his BDU's and with Joe technically being a second translator, Grace hoped this move would allow Joe to sit out this patrol. "The rest of the men will lay a base of fire with Sergeant Martin", she tossed Johnny the second whistle. Looking up, Grace hoped Joe knew what her angle was, "you speak German, right Webster?" she asked honestly. Her gaze traveled down to Joe pointedly who smirked thankfully and nodded once at her.
"Yes, a bit", Webster admitted.
"Good", she nodded, "that's my team, sir".
"Questions?" Dick asked the room.
"No, sir", they all answered.
He nodded, "good. Good luck", he said to their thanks, walked back toward the door while putting his hand on Grace's shoulder, squeezing.
"Ten Hut!" Jones announced again.
"As you were, carry on", Dick waved the order off and steering Grace to exit in front of him.
Outside, Dick and Grace stopped in the road to talk with Speirs and Lew, with Jones joining them.
"Four rubber boats, sir?" Grace prompted.
"There is a rope attached to a tree on their side of the bank. All boats will pull themselves along that rope to reach the other side." he explained.
"Understood".
"Of course we have a full moon tonight", Lew stated.
"That's right", Ron said, looking at Grace, "so no helmets".
"Nothing rattles, nothing shines", she nodded, looking up to see Webster approaching their pow-wow. So predictable.
"You should approach up on the left…" Ron began when he was interrupted.
"Excuse me, sir?" Web started, looking at Dick.
"Yes?"
"Liebgott and I, we both speak German", he clarified.
Dick shrugged, "yeah?"
"You said fifteen men…there are sixteen of us, including two translators".
Ron interjected, his patience being tested, "ok fine…hey Liebgott", he said to Joe who made sure he was walking by, "you want to sit this one out?"
"Yes sir", Joe replied, winking at Grace and giving a thumbs up to Web, "thanks, buddy". Grace turned back to their circle without caring to see Webster's reaction.
Oooooooo
Grace walked into Out-Post 1, located near their side of the bank; the men were to meet and remain in there to prepare for the patrol.
She spotted all of second platoon and some of first; men milling about and playing cards, Don was making dinner. Her heart warmed at the sight. They had a few hours before they were to go out and the men going needed quiet distraction from nerves and the silent support of their comrades. "Ok, all you men going on patrol, nothing rattles, nothing shines, no helmets". Her men nodded solemnly at her.
She took her helmet off and sat down opposite Jones, slinging her weapon around her shoulder and grabbing her knife to dull the few shiny surfaces. He met her eye line and nodded, he was in the middle of putting together his own weapon.
Grace knew he felt the butterflies; the simultaneous hot and cool butterflies that danced around your stomach before your first real patrol…anticipating the first real round flying overhead. Her first patrol had been exhilarating. She had never felt so in control, so dangerous, so powerful…so different from the girl she'd left behind in the states.
This young Lieutenant had had his eye on this type of action for a while now…after all, he had spent four years studying war at West Point.
One fact that Grace knew, however, was that no matter the background, no matter the training, every man had a reaction to battle, to patrols, to bullets aimed at your head…and one's reaction could make or break a patrol.
"Lieutenant Grant, Jones?"
Grace and Jones looked over to see Don holding up a pot of stew he had cooked. Grace had learned to love Malarkey's cooking and could have gone for a small cup, but she sensed Jones' hesitation and knew all too well what a nervous stomach felt like. She smiled at Don and looked over to Jones for confirmation who looked pale.
Grace smiled softly, sending silent understanding at Jones, and then looked back to Don, "no thanks, Malark".
Don nodded, filled up Webster's cup and set his pot down, grabbing his coffee cup. The corner of Jones' mouth crept up as he nodded at Grace and focused his attention back on his rifle.
Sensing Don beside her, she looked up meeting his pensive face.
"You set for tonight?" he asked, his voice hushed and directed at her.
She nodded, "we're set. Providing the rigging on the rubber boats holds up, we should be in and out of there…but you know how these things work".
"Don't I know it", he searched her face seriously as he paused. She stopped the work on her rifle and looked back up at him, "the C.O. ok with sending you out there?" he whispered cautiously.
Measuring his worried features with patience, Grace whispered back, "I'm second's leader, Don...there's no one else to lead this, you know that." At his remorseful expression, she continued, lowering her voice further, "he doesn't like this, believe me. But just because we…doesn't mean our roles change." She smirked, "plus, you know me."
He smirked back, "stubborn as the day is long". He gestured slightly to Jones, "is he…"
Grace smiled, "he's alright".
Don nudged her shoulder affectionately, "just be careful out there". He turned his attention to Jones, "you ready for tonight?"
Jones' large eyes skipped up to Don and nodded, "I'm ready".
"Those Krauts are gonna catch some hell", Don casually said, tossing back his coffee.
"So I hear", Jones responded, then looked to Grace and shrugged, "I'm not personally going in". She could easily detect the morose tone in his voice.
Don nodded, looking at Grace, "yeah I know".
Jones nodded with him, his wide eyes gauging Grace's tolerance. She remained quiet, her expression void of any emotion apart from stoic understanding. "Lieutenant Grant and Sergeant Martin…I'm to remain in the back and provide covering fire".
"That's the best place to be", Don reassuringly said. He gestured to Grace, "Grant's been around the block…you'll be fine".
Jones nodded as Don meandered away slowly. Grace watched him and caught eyes with Webster who was looking upon the scene with quiet judgment. Slowly shaking his head, he stood up and slung his rifle as the building shook with the nearby impact of a Kraut eighty-eight.
Grace took a measured breath through her nose. She understood Webster's frustration with the battalion's codling of Jones…if the kid wanted experience, well hell – let him have it! But they were still in a war…that was the cold reality. There was no surrender, there were no negotiations…the Krauts were still sending eighty-eights over the river for fuck's sake. Bottom line was – this patrol could potentially be fatal, and as such, only the most capable would lead and be in it.
Grace spent the rest of the evening making sure the men had lighters to dull the metal on their weapons, black out tape to cover their buckles and belts, and enough coffee, playing cards, and Lucky's to keep them awake, alert, and happy.
She looked out across the still river from the balcony, a cigarette balanced on her lips. She couldn't help but feel the weight on her shoulders that had accumulated all damn day…fifteen men sent across the river to capture a few Krauts from a German out post. Getting back safely could be accomplished in as little as ten minutes; the same mission could be met with disaster and result in nothing more than fifteen Americans killed or wounded in action. Grace knew the men who had seen combat before put that fact out of their minds…those who hadn't, like Jones, probably thought of little else.
Oooooooo
The night was so hushed, so still. The moon hung high in the inky expanse above their heads, smoothing everything it touched with a romantic glow. Inwardly, Grace knew nights such as this were not meant for patrols.
Across the river, the German searchlights were aimed up at the sky, winding about and warding off any allied plane overhead. The light snow flurries that they had experienced for the last days had ceased, making the air crisp and clear…every shadow jutted out at a harsh angle.
Placing the whistle around her neck, Grace turned around and made note of the position of the entire battalion on the bank, silently waiting for their signal to open fire. She couldn't see Ron, but she knew he was up there somewhere, watching.
Gathering the men near their boats, Grace leaned into the first one easing it into the water. "Any problems?" she hushed.
Martin shook his head, "no problems, we are good to go…rope is secured".
"Good…let's go", she responded, wading into the freezing water with the first boat and swiftly climbing in. The rest of the men followed, boats two, three, and four lining up along the bank behind boat one…all men climbing in and grabbing hold of the rope they were all connected to. Looking behind her and making sure Jones made it in last, Grace began to pull them along the rope. Quietly moving down the rope, Grace perched herself near the side, making sure everyone was keeping up, "keep it steady", she whispered to McClung in front of her.
"Oh shit!" she heard someone exclaim.
"I can't swim!" someone else shouted.
Turning around, their crawl stalling, she saw the last boat flip, dumping the three men in to the cold water. Grimacing at the noise, Grace watched to make sure they all climbed back up on their bank. Jones motioned for them to keep going from the third boat, Grace nodded and they kept going.
"Ok, let's keep it moving guys, come on", she urged on.
From his position, Ron stood motionless beside Nixon. His eyes were tight on the propped up figure in the first boat. He knew that was Grace…he could tell by her hair. Silently cursing the men who fell out of their boat, he kept his gaze trained on the remaining three as they made it to the axis side of the river.
Reaching the snowy bank, Grace crouched down, making sure everyone got out and all the boats were pulled out of the water. Leading the advance with McClung, the two of them crawled on their stomachs to a fence of barbed wire.
"Cutters", she whispered, grabbing the fence. McClung grabbed it as well, cutting them quickly. "Good…side", she ordered, moving to the side and holding the fence away, letting the men crawl through.
The men crawled under by twos, then ran forward and ducked behind their respective posts. Grace and McClung were last, after getting under she ran to Jones who held the furthest position and knelt by him.
"Powers, go!" she sent Shifty forward to set up shop, "McClung, go". Her eyes moved right to left, left to right – studying the layout and making sure her men were met without resistance. Standing up, she gestured, "come on, forward". She ran up and pressed her back up against a large pile of firewood, ordering to the rest of the men, "in twos…come on", she sent them separately in couples each time, waiting to make sure everyone was safe. Once they were all in place behind cover, she ran forward to join them. "Powers, Wynn, secure the left flank…Jones, take Martin and Heffron, go secure the cross roads…clear?" The men nodded to her, their breath whisking up into the cool air. She nodded, "security out". The two groups took off at her word. She nodded to McClung once security ran off, "let's go".
Running forward to the targeted building, Grace was followed by McClung, Jackson, Ramirez, Vest, and Webster. Pressing her back up against the wall once reaching the corner near the stairs, Grace fixed the small blaster at the end of her rifle. Breathing evenly and feeling the icy sparks of adrenaline fly through her body, she nodded once at Shifty across the small road from her. Cocking her rifle loudly, Grace fluidly stepped forward, turned around, and shot out the window…breaking the glass and shattering the silence.
POP!
From the balcony on the other side of the bank, Ron's heart skipped a beat hearing the loud crack in the silence. That was Grace.
BASH! The small explosive that was in Grace's round exploded in the room above the stairs and Grace and her men prepared to run up and enter. Jackson ran forward and threw in the last of the barrage, a hand grenade. Before the blast went off, however, Jackson ran up the stairs and threw open the door.
Grace lunged forward, trying to grab his collar, "Jackson, NO!"
BOOM!
The remaining two windows shattered as Grace saw Jackson absorb the main blast and fall to the ground.
Running up the stairs, Webster pushed in first, shouting orders in German. Grace entered in the smoky room behind him, kicking the discarded rifles and weapons to the door and away from the three Krauts inside. "Put it down!" she shouted over Jackson's screams to a German who held a handgun at Webster. "Keep your hands out where I can see them!" Webster was shouting out a translation after every word she spoke. "Tell them to keep quiet!" she hissed at Web, seeing the rest of her squad corner the Germans. She turned immediately to Jackson, still on the ground, "Jackson?" she pulled him up by one shoulder and the breath left her lungs…the left half of his face was littered in shrapnel from his own grenade. He would go into shock if they didn't get the fuck out of there soon, "stay with us, Jackson, we're gonna get you back over on our side. Vest! Watch Jackson, keep him awake…Ramirez, watch Vest", she ordered swiftly, her eyes settling on controlling the chaos in the small room.
"Holy shit", Vest wheezed, kneeling beside Jackson.
"Let's go, Web, let's go!" Grace called out, ushering the Germans away from an opened closet. "Keep those men quiet…McClung, cover Web!" Grace slung the bag of explosives from her shoulder, passing them to Web, "take the charges, prime it and set it". She turned with McClung to the two standing prisoners and one wounded one. Gesturing to the wounded Kraut, Grace pointed her rifle at them and motioned to the door, "pick him up, let's go!" She called to Webster, "Web, tell them to carry the wounded man and to the shut up". From behind her, Web called out the translation while setting the charges up. Grace's eyes fell on Vest who was barely holding it together, "Ramirez, hold up Jackson, we're moving out!" Ramirez, Jackson, and Vest were at the door with McClung covering them; Grace held the three Krauts at gunpoint, standing between them and Webster. She barely registered the Germans' shocked faces at the woman before them calling orders as she called out, "we move out on my command…are you ready?" Checking Web's progress, Grace pointed at the door, "we all move out together…let's go…let's move, go now!" Making sure the men made it out the door, Grace waited for Web and pushed him through the door and down the stairs, grimacing as she heard the suppressing fire from the Krauts. "PULL BACK…we're moving out!" she yelled out.
"Let's go!" she heard Martin call out.
"McClung, keep the prisoner's heads down!" Grace ordered. Turning to the left, she called for Popeye, "Wynn! Come on, we're pulling out, let's go!"
"Covering fire!" Martin hollered out, their group opening fire.
Running past, Grace spotted Babe still crouched and firing. She was going to be the last man on this side of the bank and get her men back safely if it was the last thing she did, "Heffron, we're falling back, let's go!" Leaning down, she pushed him ahead of her and ran.
Ron held his breath as he watched the Krauts cover the group in white flashes of fire. Grace was making sure everyone was getting back to their side, and he could see her holding up the rear.
Grace needed to make sure Jackson got on the first boat to go back and that the two unwounded prisoners were accounted for. There was no way to do that and stay up front to blow the whistle for cover. As she ran by Jones, she pulled the whistle over her head, "Jones! Take the whistle and blow when you get to the bank! Run, go…now!"
"You got it!" he yelled back, running to the boats.
Grace called out to all her men running by, "stay low! Keep your heads low! Let's go!"
"God damnit…blow the God damned whistle", Lew seethed beside Ron, his jaw clenched.
Grace heard the shrill sound of the whistle in front of her just as they began targeting them with mortars.
Immediately, the other side of the bank opened fire.
"We need to get back to CP", Nixon called.
Nodding reluctantly, Ron tore his eyes away from the scene and followed, his heart pounding in his chest.
Ron did not know how to do this – how to walk away from this moment. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to run out there, grab Grace and defend and protect her; make sure she was safe and unharmed. Swallowing the urge to vomit, Ron could barely hear the firing or the mortars…all he was focusing on was the shouting from outside, praying he would not hear her scream for a medic.
Hatred. He had once felt supreme hatred for Dike and anyone else that put Grace in harm's way…now that hate was directed fully on himself. Clenching his hands into fists as he followed robotically behind Nixon, Ron held his breath and forced himself not to yell in frustration and agony.
Dodging flying dirt, rocks, and debris, Grace made it to the boats, "let's get in and go, let's go!" She jumped down onto the soft dirt and ran into the water, grabbing a boat and turning to Ramirez, "let's get Jackson in here, keep moving guys…come on!" Setting Jackson down into the first boat, Ramirez and Vest climbed in after followed by McClung. "Go now!" They began pulling themselves across and Grace waded over to the second boat.
The cold river seeping up to her thighs, Grace quickly surveyed the chaos on the shore.
"Let's move, let's move!" Martin called over the rounds, trying to get the wounded prisoner into the second boat. Wynn, Shifty and Heffron were in the boat attempting keeping the other two Germans in line. They were all screaming and yelling.
Grace turned to the third boat to see the rest of the men fitting into it and she yelled towards Johnny, "Martin, leave him…leave that one here…we don't have time!" Martin nodded and pushed the wounded German to the shore and climbed in the second boat, "go, go!" Grace lunged into the third boat as Web and Jones pulled them along. Swinging her rifle in front of her, Grace held up the rear and covered fire, popping round after round onto the Kraut side of the river.
"Keeping pulling, keeping pulling!" she heard Jones yell out. Grunting with every spent shell, Grace grimaced as water began to rain down on them from mortars colliding with the river.
"Keep going, come on!" she screamed, ducking at the bright flashes of bullets whizzing by.
The first boat reached the shore; Malarkey, Perconte, and a handful of others were there to help the men off and into safety.
"Grab Jackson!" McClung called out.
Feeling the boat nudge the bottom the shore, Grace jumped out into the water and ran to the bank, "let's go, let's go! Keep your heads down!" She remained on the bank, yelling for the men to run to cover. Once the bank was mostly cleared, Grace ran to the nearest building with the rest of her men.
"Clear the tables, Jackson's wounded!" Martin yelled.
"Popeye, take the prisoners right there and shake 'em down", Grace ordered, pointing to the small cove in the room. "Move, move", she stood in the doorway and pushed her men inside, "McClung, get to CP and tell them what we've got". Striding forward to Jackson who was on the nearby table, she saw Vest screaming and sobbing over him, Grace pushed him away, "get off of him", she ordered. "Shifty…watch Vest!" Her eyes found Johnny near the door, "Martin, go and grab a medic!" One nod and Johnny was out the door.
"Lieutenant?"
Grace turned towards Jones' voice and narrowed her eyes at the chaotic scene, "Jones, can you grab a hold of Jackson's legs and keep him still?" He nodded and she went straight to Jackson's side, nudging Cobb and Skinny out of the way.
"Can you help him, Grace?" Web asked, his voice raw and on the edge.
Grace produced her sulfa powder from her jacket and gently sprinkled it over Jackson's mangled features. "Jackson, keep breathing, keep your eyes on me…stay calm, I've got ya".
The noise level in the small room was still high, exacerbated by the MG fire and mortars still coming from outside. The yells of the men and the two Germans were mixing together and Grace felt her patience crack slowly trying to wait for the medic to get there.
"He's gonna die! He's gonna fucking die!" Vest sobbed from nearby.
"It's gonna be alright, Jackson", Web soothed across from Grace.
"We're right here, Jackson, it's ok", Grace cooed, leaning over him, trying to hear if his airway was obstructed.
"God damnit!" Vest suddenly screamed.
"Hey!" Jones immediately ran forward and pulled Vest away, stopping his hysteria.
"Where the fuck is the medic?!" Web yelled, looking toward the door.
"Alright, enough is enough…I need silence for Jackson!" Grace bellowed out over the men. The room hushed save for whimpers here and there. "I can't wait for the medics anymore", she leaned over Jackson once more, the men looking on. "Keep breathing for me, Jackson, that's it. Light…I need some light", she requested. Skinny lit his lighter and held it to Jackson's face, "good…Jackson, look at the flame, I need you to look at the flame, that's good", she said, nodding. The near silence in the room punctured painfully by Jackson's catching breath and cry.
"What do we got, Grace?" Martin called out, Roe behind him.
"Let's move him out of here", she murmured over her shoulder to Gene's nodding face.
Gene and the ambulance driver shuffled up with the stretcher and Grace and Babe pulled Jackson onto it.
Suddenly Jackson sucked in a strangled breath and began keening, "NO, I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!"
"Move, come on, let's get him outta here!" Gene called, carrying him out.
BOOM! A mortar hit nearby, sending dust raining down over the room.
"Set him down, set him down", Gene requested and they laid him on the ground.
Grace knelt with Gene, her hand on Jackson's neck keeping the blood flow pressured, "it's ok, it's ok", she called out over Jackson's growing cries. Abruptly, Jackson arched his back, suddenly choking and going into shock. "Jackson! Stay with me!"
Jackson cried out, choking "I don't wanna die!"
Grace kept her hand on his neck and one hand on his face, trying to keep him from bleeding out, "you're not gonna die! Calm down, Jackson, breathe!" BOOM! Another mortar rocked the building and he choked again, blood spurting up from his mouth. "Jackson?!" Grace cried, holding his face as he spasmed up, his terrified eyes on her. With one final jerk, his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.
Her breath caught in her throat, Grace knelt back, her eyes seeking Johnny's. Fixing him with a serious and sad stare, he sighed heavily and walked forward, pulling the wool blanket off Skinny's shoulders; keeping his eyes on Grace until he reached the stretcher, he looked down and gently draped it over Jackson's body.
Eugene Jackson was twenty years old; he had lied about his age when he joined the army at sixteen.
Oooooooo
A couple hours later, Gene and the medics had taken Jackson away; Grace had made sure her men were stable, warm, and intact, and the prisoners were secured, their papers complete and ready for transport.
It was still very dark outside, the fire from the other side of the river had ceased and Grace was visited by a battalion runner, who told her to bring the prisoners to CP.
Accompanied by Jackson and Webster, who was in charge of the prisoners, Grace made her way to CP.
Her eyes felt raw and sore, her head was throbbing and her shoulders and throat were tight. The most painful however, was the bottomless sorrow that welled up within her, Jackson's screams and cries circling her mind. Jackson's death had hit everyone hard – he was so young in comparison to all of them; just when they all thought they could live through this hell…his death had reopened a wound deep inside her and she had began to ache again.
That's when the internal questions started. If she had grabbed him – if she had verbally ordered his grenade instead of letting him take her queue – if she had taken medic supplies with her. If ,if, if. She could see it in all her men's faces – they were thinking what they could have done to prevent it too…but she was the leader…this was her fault.
In the back of her mind, Grace wondered exactly how many men she had held as they died.
With CP in sight from the dim lights, she made out a truck in front, Dick and Ron standing outside.
Grace walked them up and stood aside while Web gave orders in German and a few MP's loaded the two prisoners into the truck.
She kept her eyes on Winters; Ron stood stiffly nearby, his gaze on the ground near her boots; his distance was painful. "Status", Dick inquired.
"Private Jackson took a grenade to the face inside the enemy OP", she spoke emotionlessly, examining Dick's pained expression. Her stomach dropped seeing his disappointment and seeing Ron's shoulders drop in her periphery. She focused her gaze on Dick's scarf, "it was his own grenade", she clarified.
"He died of his wounds, sir", Jones added, his voice solemn; Grace clenched her jaw.
"And the others?" Winters implored.
She shook her head, "no, sir".
Dick nodded, his eyes searching hers, "well executed." Grace dropped her eyes and refocused on his scarf. "It's not our fault", he comforted, his voice gruff and low; his tone hit her right in the gut and Grace pressed her lips together. "Talk to your men", he squeezed her shoulder and nodded, "carry on".
"Yes, sir", Grace responded. Grace turned with Jones to continue on to OP2 where her men would be resting. Her eyes sought out Ron's gaze and her heart froze over, Ron stood looking out and away from her, his shoulders stiff. I love you, she said to him in her mind.
"Captain", Jones softly acknowledged the C.O. and Ron broke from his daze. He nodded at Jones and caught Grace's eyes as she walked by.
In the depths of his eyes in the darkness, Grace could see remorse and confliction in the greenness. She knew with that look that he was obviously clashing internally with himself over her position, what they would constantly have to endure should the war continue on.
Swallowing a choked sob, Grace pushed away the fear that Ron may decide he couldn't love her…that once again he wouldn't be able to do this, as she walked directly over to OP2.
Should Ron tell her they should wait, she now understood a new angle of love: people always said when you're in love, the entire world became beautiful and flawless…but that was not the truth. This world was grimy and sad…and her love stood out as a stark relief to the despairing surroundings. It had to be true love…to recognize the striking savior among the despondency of war.
"Good work tonight, Jones", she said softly over her shoulder.
"Thank you, Lieutenant", he offered back. After a pause, he continued, "I assume you'll be heading back to company CP to sack out after seeing the men?"
She shook her head as she entered the building, "don't let me stop you from going to your room…but I'm gonna stay here with the men tonight". He nodded at her silently and she turned and headed up the stairs.
Webster walked in first, followed by Jones with Grace bringing up the rear. Malarkey and Frank were standing in the doorway, Joe hanging off his bunk, a cigarette playing on his lips. The rest of them men who had come on the patrol were lying in their beds…all were awake.
Grace stopped in the doorway and watched as Web shrugged off his pack and lay on his bed; Jones trudged over to an empty chair and stiffly sat down. She kept her eyes forward, feeling Don, Frank, and Joe sizing her up.
"Heard you got two prisoners", Don inquired.
"That's right", Grace affirmed quietly, not wishing to disrupt the men's quiet contemplation.
"Good work", he whispered, nodding over to the men.
"Jackson's dead", Webster announced bluntly.
Grace clenched her jaw and shut her eyes at his crassness, thanking God it was dark in the room; the only light coming from a few candles on the nearby table.
"Yeah, we heard", Joe soothed a moment later.
Taking a breath and opening her eyes, Grace saw Don inches from her, a cigarette between his fingers. Her heart throbbing at the gesture, she thankfully placed it to her lips as he lit it.
Frank stepped forward, "we heard they want another patrol tonight".
Breathing in fully and enjoying the intense burn, Grace held the smoke in and fought the urge to cuss, spit, yell, and laugh all at once. Instead, she steadily blew out the smoke in a thin stream, placing the cigarette elegantly back to her lips.
Feeling the men's gaze on her, she looked around the room, "one day at a time", she whispered, "if Captain Winters needs us to go again, we will go…until we get orders, put it out of your minds". Sensing the tension dissipate, she nodded, "it's late…you guys should get some sleep." She gestured to the empty bunk in the corner, "Lieutenant Jones, you're free to take that bunk". He nodded and walked over to it, lithely falling in as the other men made to lie down and relax.
Sucking in another healthy lung-full of smoke, Grace turned silently on her heel and made her way down the darkened hallway and to the window beside the stairwell. Leaning up against the wall, she breathed out, her breath shaky now away from the men.
Knowing she wasn't going over to CP and she wasn't going to get any sleep anyways…dreams would surely be waiting for her…Grace was satisfied with sitting in the hallway for the rest of the early morning, keeping an eye and an ear out for her men. Looking contentedly out the moonlit window, she slowly finished her cigarette.
"Grace".
"Don?" she squinted through the darkness until he came to a stop beside her by the window, his face illuminated by the moon.
"You should be asleep", she whispered.
"So should you", he countered. Normally she knew she would smirk at his words and they'd rib each other a bit more and be done with it. Instead, she held his gaze and he held hers. "Are you alright?" he sought after a moment.
She took a moment to respond, "…no…but I will be".
If there was anyone o the face of planet who understood her in that moment, it was Donald Malarkey.
Wordlessly, he stepped forward and wound his arms around her waist; her arms came to rest about his shoulders.
She took a deep breath and felt his whiskers brush her cheek as he smiled, "I know what you mean", he mused softly.
Please, please review! Next chapter under construction already! Should be up soon!