Amazing Beta's: FandomlyCroft, Atman, and Laura001. I couldn't have done it without you guys. Any remaining errors are mine.
Last Time: Nazi Germany surrendered. The war in Europe is over.
"Prepare for the unknown by studying how others in the past have coped with the unforeseeable and the unpredictable." - George S. Patton
"We are going to have peace even if we have to fight for it." - Dwight D. Eisenhower
Now: Easy Company becomes an occupying force as they get ready to face the Pacific.
-Chapter 53-
"Heroic dead of a combined Army and Marine force mark the grim battlefield of Okinawa, where one of the bloodiest engagements of the war is being fought."
It was evening now in Zem al Zee, and rather than rerunning the same Rita Hayworth or Marlene Dietrich movies that had been playing over and over again, the officer in charge of the projector played a newsreel from the Pacific front.
It was startling to realize that the fighting was still going on, that men were still dying in droves for tiny scraps of land in the Pacific in order to avenge Pearl Harbor, especially in light of the peace Easy Company had enjoyed for almost a month now.
Eve knew the intention behind playing the newsreels. The brass needed Easy Company and the rest of the 506 to get back in the mindset of waging war. It was all but certain that Easy Company was bound for the Pacific now that the war was over in Europe.
She dreaded it. As bad as it was here, Eve couldn't imagine fighting an enemy with no ties to the Geneva Convention whatsoever. At least European warfare was relatively civilized. These countries had been fighting each other over the same ground for the last thousand years. Though the antiquated nonsense of grand shows of force, lining up neatly on a great field of battle, had been all but eradicated in the wake of the Great War, there was still a certain code of conduct obeyed by both sides when fighting. Like medics being "off-limits". Sure, there were some people who broke those rules, but overall the code was observed.
The Japanese clearly respected no such code.
As the grisly images played across the screen, Eve stood firm in her spot near the back, behind Lipton and Welsh, just next to Speirs. She could have gained a chair, but she could barely stand still watching this, let alone sit. She clenched her hands to keep them from trembling and straightened her spine. From the glance Speirs shot her, she wasn't fooling anyone with her desperate bid for composure.
"Thousands of Yanks have been wounded, and other thousands have sacrificed lives."
Soldiers ran by on the film, bearing a stretcher between them. It was a familiar scene. She could vividly remember Bill, Toye, and Jackson on their respective stretchers, as the bearers raced them back to a waiting jeep, on to a hospital, hopefully onward to safety.
Her knees started to buckle, but Speirs – somehow sensing it – gripped her shoulder to hold her steady. Eve absorbed some of his strength, his calm, and was able to swallow the bile, suppress the memories.
Nixon snuck into the room, sidling into space beside her, in front of Winters. Eve thought idly in the back of her mind that Nixon could find Winters blind if he wanted to; they just always seemed to know where the other was. The smile the thought induced settled her back into reality. He shot her a concerned glance, eyeing Speirs's hand still on her shoulder, but didn't comment.
"Along the Japs'southern defense line, the Yanks progress slowly, facing one of the fiercest artillery barrages of the war."
Eve suppressed a snort of disbelief, or maybe it was horror that stole her breath. She'd survived the barrages of Bastogne where the trees exploded into wooden pikes, raining death down on the men below. Where guys were men one second and dust the next. Every waking and sleeping moment spent flat on the ground, not even capable of building a fire to keep warm in the icy temperatures for fear that doing so would bring death to her and her friends, even as they froze in their sleep. She couldn't wrap her head around any barrage that could have been worse.
And yet, here it was, playing in vivid, gruesome detail before her eyes.
"Each small advance is gained by sheer grit, in the face of withering fire from a suicidal enemy being slowly hammered back into the hills."
The film showed an American soldier wielding a flamethrower.
Eve hadn't had much occasion to encounter them with Easy, but the thought of them, and the thought alone, made her want to gag. After Landsberg, she didn't think she would ever get the stench of burning human bodies out of her nose, it was lodged so deeply in her brain.
She couldn't imagine a more terrible way to die than being burnt to death.
"The going is brutal, and our casualties are high."
Gruesome figures of thousands wounded shook Eve's spine.
Easy had already lost so many men. How many more wouldn't even make landfall in the Pacific? She still remembered the terror of jumping into the unknown, the high possibility of landing in a tree to be skewered by Krauts before even getting out of her parachute. The great balls of fire the C-47s became as they dropped from the sky, dozens of men trapped inside, plummeting to their deaths.
It was an inevitability of being a paratrooper. Some poor bastards weren't even going to make it to the ground.
"But Okinawa is the next big step towards victory over Japan, a victory that can only be won by work, war bonds, and heroic sacrifice."
And then, without further warning, the film was over.
The lights came up.
Eve took a deep breath to center herself, rolling her shoulders to shake off the tension, inadvertently shaking off Speirs's comforting hand.
Some men stood up and left the room immediately. Eve lingered long enough to follow Spiers as he turned to wait for the officers and their orders.
She blinked in surprise, nonplussed. Nixon was drinking coffee out of one of the smallest teacups Eve had seen in a long time. It looked positively dainty and so incongruous with Nixon that it broke through her lingering tension completely.
"So," said Speirs as he came level with Winters, pulling her abruptly back to the reality of their situation. "When are we going?"
"We don't have a date yet," said Winters, confirming her fears.
They were going, it was all but decided. The Brass only had to push through a jump mission for them and they'd be off to the other side of the world. The fronts were so separate they may as well have been different wars.
A part of her wanted to get it over with, to put aside the long, agonizing wait they'd had in Aldbourne between Normandy and Holland and just jump back into battle. It had been a long, bittersweet time, where every day was tainted by the overshadowing dread that this was it, they were finally going back to war, back to Hell. She'd rather just get it over with, without the agony of suspense.
"Are we to tell the men right away?" Speirs asked.
Winters nodded. "Some of them will have enough points to go home instead."
Points had become all anyone wanted to talk about recently. A man needed eighty-five points to go home. Points were awarded based on time served – one point per month with an additional point for months overseas, medals awarded – five points each but only if the award was on the accepted list, and circumstances back home – twelve points for having a child under eighteen years old.
"Not many if their only medal's a Purple Heart," said Nixon.
Eve winced. That was most of the men, even the veterans.
Winters nodded his acknowledgement again. "I think most of us here will have enough."
He met Eve's eyes. She knew she was one of those borderline cases. She didn't know how many points she had been awarded exactly, but she was nearly certain she didn't have the same amount of points that these officers did.
"And each of us will have to decide what to do," Winters said as he led them out of the room, the other soldiers politely standing back to allow their group through the door unimpeded as he gave his officers orders. "I don't know how long we're waiting here for orders," he called behind him as they filed out the door. Eve fell into line behind Speirs at a wave of Harry's hand.
"But I want those veterans who are staying," continued Winters, stopping just outside the door as his officers circled around him, "and all new replacements ready to fight. That means rifle ranges," he met Speirs's eyes. "That means daily close order drills. That means troop reviews," he met Eve's. "But above all, that means physical training." Eve could already hear the complaints she was going to have to endure from the men at the order. "Get your NCOs on it," he said and walked away.
"They're gonna love you," quipped Nixon.
"Could have been Sobel," said Eve.
"Hi-Ho Silver," countered Winters from ahead.
They laughed, pretending the mood was lighthearted, as they headed off to prepare for war, again.
XxX
"Sixty points! Do you believe that?" griped Malarkey.
The redhead and Eve were catching up over lunch in the mess hall. The room was practically deserted, all but a few stragglers, dotting the benches, had already finished eating some time ago. The only sound out of the kitchen was the clanging of washing up, food had ceased production some time ago, but the companions were content to linger despite their now cooled food. It honestly tasted no worse cold than it had when it was served at room temperature a few hours ago, though it certainly hadn't improved.
Eve slurped the congealed mess from her spoon. The sign had claimed they were serving spaghetti, but the noodles crunched every other bite, and the sauce was more water than tomatoes.
She was listening to Malarkey as he ranted about the most recent gossip from Second Platoon. It had been far too long since Eve had had a chance to shoot the shit and check in on her platoon. But Malarkey was incensed by the allotment of points that had been handed out, to one Shifty Powers in particular.
"Shifty saved us in Bastogne, remember? He spotted that cannon because he memorized where all the trees were supposed to be. That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I mean, the guy's the best shot in the Company and he's been with us since Toccoa. If anyone deserves to go home, it's Shifty."
Eve agreed wholeheartedly. It was a sorry state of affairs that veterans from D-Day, who'd made it through Bastogne and Market Garden and been on the front for almost the whole damn war, couldn't go home.
She swallowed an unpleasantly crunchy bite, turning an idea over in her head before she said, "You know they're holding some kind of ceremony next week, to remember D-Day? One year anniversary and all that."
It was a strange feeling, knowing she'd spent a year at war. A year of her life that could've been spent back home with her family but for one stubborn decision, albeit one she couldn't bring herself to regret. She just had to make her peace it. It was a far easier task here, amidst the gorgeous scenery, than it would have been if they were still trapped in a place like Bastogne, where misery and terror were close companions with death and seemed to haunt them all.
She shook off her melancholy thoughts to return to the matter at hand: getting Shifty home. "General Taylor is holding a lottery to send someone home, one man from each company."
Malarkey's eyes lit up in glee. "Anyone?"
Eve nodded. "Even a replacement could win it."
"Would you go? If you won?" asked Malarkey.
"No," she said gently in the face of his badly concealed worry. But she'd already made her decision. She had the points to go, but she couldn't. Not if her guys weren't going home.
"Eve," he begged, using her full name, pleading with her. "You've seen the newsreels. The Pacific is a different war. The rules are different. The Japs are fighting dirty. What happens if you…"
He couldn't even finish the sentence.
She touched his hand and found his concerned brown eyes, seeing all the people they'd lost lurking there, and his genuine fear that she'd be among them.
"I've come too far to turn back now," she told him as gently as she could, her heart breaking as his face fell in despair. "I won't let you guys go without me."
He sighed heavily, opening his mouth to try to talk her out of it before he reconsidered and nodded to Eve's relief.
She hoped that if he'd learned anything from serving with her, it was that Eve did exactly what she wanted to.
"As for Shifty," she said, leaning in with a mischievous look in her eyes. "I have an idea."
XxX
"Captain Speirs?"
Speirs looked up from the avalanche of ink he'd been trying to muscle through to find his First Sergeant lurking in his doorway.
He'd sent her off to lunch about an hour ago and was honestly surprised to see her back so soon. Though he secretly hoped she was coming with some news that would pull him away from his own paperwork, the vague guilt on her face told him that she had another reason for being here.
Concerned, he pushed away from his desk and gave the woman his full attention.
"What can I do for you, Ev?" he asked, using the moniker the men often used with her.
"Sir," she said, straightening. "It's about the lottery planned for the ceremony tomorrow."
Speirs looked at her, keeping his expression blank. He and the other officers – Welsh, Nixon, Lipton, even Winters – had planned to rig the lottery to send the woman home, to at least give her the option of bowing out of the fight in the Pacific. If she chose to gift the pass to someone else, there was nothing they could do, but Eve was too important to Easy Company to send into another war. Not the kind of war the Japs were fighting. If the newsreels said it was bad, it was probably far worse than that.
It wasn't out of a lack of respect either. Everyone knew that Eve would fight with them side-by-side no matter who the enemy, but she didn't have to. Better send her home than to risk her in yet another war. She'd more than earned a chance to go home.
"What about it?" he asked, wondering if she'd somehow gotten wind of it and had come to argue them out of it.
"A lot of the guys are really pulling for Shifty Powers to be the one to go home," she said.
Speirs blinked and frowned. "Shifty Powers?"
"Yes, sir," she said. "Word is he only has sixty points. He's never been injured, sir."
Speirs looked at the woman, really looked, and knew that even if she won that pass home, she would never take it. She was too stubborn by half. If they rigged it for Eve to win, she'd just give the pass over to Shifty regardless. It wasn't as though Shifty wasn't deserving of it like some of the replacements who'd barely gotten their feet wet.
"I'll see what I can do, Sergeant," conceded Speirs.
Eve saluted him and left, likely headed back to her own avalanche of ink.
Speirs leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp as he went.
He already knew they were going to rig it in Shifty's favor now. It was what Eve wanted anyway.
Now he just had to persuade the others.
XxX
The next morning Easy Company assembled in a courtyard, standing proudly in their pristine dress greens.
Eve stood with First Platoon, just in front of Martin and next to Roe in her place as First Sergeant as she listened to Speirs growl out orders, following them with the precise snap that had been drilled into her until she bled with it all those years ago.
"At ease," said Speirs, losing his growl as the men fell into position as sharply as anyone could ask. "General Taylor is aware," he said, pitching his voice so it carried throughout the entire courtyard they were using. "That many veterans, including Normandy veterans, still do not have the eighty-five points required to be discharged. On this, the anniversary of D-Day, he has authorized a lottery, to send one man home in each company, effective immediately."
Eve walked forward, a helmet in her hands and presented it to Lieutenant Welsh.
Welsh dug around in the helmet for several seconds before pulling out a piece of paper and passing it over to Speirs with a covert smile. Eve kept her return smile from her face as she walked back to her position, hiding the empty helmet in her hands.
"For Easy Company," announced Speirs, pausing to raise the anticipation. "The winner is serial number: 13066266, Sergeant Darryl C. Powers."
A congratulatory cheer went up among the men, some catcalls and whistling joining the fray as well. Everyone in the company liked Shifty. He was a good man.
Eve could see him smiling like a loon from where he stood behind Speirs with the Color Guard.
"Sergeant Grant will see to it that Second Platoon takes over at the crossroads checkpoint, beginning tonight at 2200 hours. General Taylor has also announced that the 101st Airborne Division will definitely be redeployed to the Pacific."
Every smile that was on a face, vanished.
"So," continued Speirs, "beginning tomorrow at 0600 hours, we will begin training to go to war."
Again, Eve thought in the silence that followed that statement.
She wondered, as she looked at the men, whether or not these replacements knew what they were in for. The good ones, the ones who'd come in early and already blended in so well they were nearly as revered as Toccoa guys – like Heffron and Hashey – knew the score. They knew what kind of hell was coming their way and they knew they needed to work harder than ever to prepare for it. They knew they had to be the best, as good as or better than the guy next to them, so they didn't get their friends killed.
These newest replacements were in for one hell of a wakeup call if they weren't prepared to do the same.
Eve would see to it personally.
XxX
It was late afternoon about a week later and Eve was hiding. She'd escaped – more like abandoned – her now dwindling paperwork to bask in the afternoon sunlight and enjoy the lake.
Easy Company had finished their drills for the day about an hour ago. It looked like Easy was going to spend the summer here in this "alpine paradise."
At least it wasn't the blistering hot volcano rocks of the Pacific islands they were bound for. Thank God for small mercies.
Speirs was harder on the newest members than he was on the veterans – who could be trusted to know their business in battle – but training was never easy.
If they were going back to war, she wanted to savor what little time she had left out of it, not spend it stuck behind a desk doing paperwork that could wait.
She'd stretched out on the hotel's back staircase, letting her back rest against the red iron railing which had been warming for hours just waiting for her to absorb the heat, and luxuriating at the juxtaposition between the metal at her back and the cool concrete under her.
It wasn't the padded seat from her office, and for that she was grateful.
The lake glistened like a multifaceted emerald in the sparkling sun, a jewel unparalleled, in Eve's humble opinion. The greenery and the soaring rock edifices adorning it still looked like paradise to her eyes.
Eve did her best to let the sunlight soak into her skin and remain here, rather than be drawn back by the stench of blood and gunpowder that tried to clog her nose as the last year tried to overwhelm her again.
"There you are!"
Eve tried to pretend that she hadn't jumped a foot in the air. "Captain Welsh," she said, back ramrod straight as she debated trying to stand and salute, honestly, grateful for the interruption.
The grin splitting Welsh's face, and Captain Nixon's behind him, meant that this was a friendly visit, not her superiors coming to reprimand her for slacking off.
She couldn't help but grin in response, settling back down as the gentlemen took seats on the stairs both above and below her perch.
"How many times, Ev," chided Welsh, "do I have to tell you to call me Harry? It's not that hard."
She smiled. "Well, I wouldn't want to be accused of insubordination."
"We wouldn't want that to happen," commented Nixon. "What brings you out here?"
Eve shrugged. "Just getting away from paperwork; appreciating the view."
"It is a nice view," agreed Welsh, as though he was just noticing it for the first time.
Nixon took a cigarette out of his pocket. The clink of his lighter, the quick breaths he took to get the smoke started and the sweet acidic smell of tobacco, all things she'd never thought she would appreciate let alone find comfort in, now firmly reminded her that she wasn't alone.
He passed the cigarette to Harry and started another one for himself. Jokingly, he offered the new one to Eve for a puff. She shook her head at his grin when she refused. She was one of the few who hadn't succumbed to the intoxicating feeling of release that the men claimed cigarettes brought them. Almost everyone in Easy Company had taken up smoking at some point during the war. Every time Eve tried it, she started coughing. Figuring it was her body's way of telling her not to smoke, she'd given up on trying to "get used to it" for the sake of appearances.
They sat together for a while, the boys enjoying their cigarettes while Eve went back to enjoying the view, dark thoughts of the past becoming distant now that she was in their company.
It was a long time before anyone spoke again.
"You figure out what you're gonna do yet, Ev?" Nixon asked, breaking the silence.
Eve hummed, pulling her thoughts down from the clouds. There was only one topic he could be referring too, the same one everyone else had spent weeks going over with no end in sight.
"Winters told me I have enough points to go home, but –" here she took a breath. "– it just doesn't seem right to abandon them now. I'd rather stay with Easy." Seeing their solemn faces at this declaration, she smiled. "Besides, what would happen to my reputation if I came home early?" she teased.
It fell flat.
They both knew that she had started one hell of a shit-storm when the campaign to send her home from Belgium ended with her refusal. There was no way the press had all been good. With her decision, she had all but ruined her chances of slipping back into society quietly.
Nixon nodded, but didn't share the thoughts lurking behind his eyes. "What about you, Harry?" he asked their unusually quiet friend.
Harry sighed. "I've made up my mind, Nix, I got the points, I'm going back to Kitty."
"Harry," said Nixon, teasing smile darting around his mouth. "Do you really think that Kitty hasn't run off with some 4F by now?"
They all shook with laughter. "Son of a bitch," said Harry with a grin. "That's not even funny."
The door to the hotel squeaked as it swung open, thudding closed after it had released Winters from inside. Eve turned to smile at the major as he made his way down the stairs to join them. She was glad to see him. It was good he was making time to join them despite being even more inundated with paperwork than she was, even with Lewinski there to help him.
"Harry, ignore him," said Winters, walking down several steps to stand level with his friends.
Eve pulled her legs in to allow him to pass. Nixon did not just to irk his friend.
"How am I supposed to tell her I had the chance to go home finally and decided not to so I could go jump on Tokyo?" continued Welsh.
"All right," said Nixon, "so don't tell her."
Eve rolled her eyes. "She'd find out one way or another, women always do. Lying to Kitty is not a good idea, Harry," she argued, using his name on purpose.
He laughed, agreeing.
"Besides," said Nixon, pushing his point despite Eve's interruption. "She's waited for you for three years, right? We'll be to Tokyo and back in two years, three tops."
"Don't get your hopes up," said Eve. "Besides, there are not a lot of people who can put their life on hold for five years waiting for somebody. Sometimes the pieces just don't fit any more."
Eve winced when she realized that she might be incidentally prodding on a sore spot for Nixon, whose wife had decided to divorce him so recently, not to mention everyone else who was longing for home and scared it wouldn't live up to their imagination any more.
She pushed on to keep the sentiment from lingering. "Besides, Kitty seems like too good a woman for you to let her go without a fight. I'd like to meet her someday," she said wistfully.
"You got it, Ev," Harry agreed with a grin before teasing in kind, "as long as you promise not to scare her off."
Eve laughed but offered no such promise. Kitty had to be one hell of a woman to put up with Harry Welsh for all these years by choice. Eve adored the man, but she couldn't imagine sharing a life with him.
His face became somber. "It'll probably be over before you even get there," he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.
"Is that optimism, Harry?" she asked.
"Shut up," he chuckled. "I'm serious. The reality is that you guys are going to sit here in Austria for six months waiting to go, and I'm going to be back in Willsbury, making babies."
Eve didn't miss the look shared between Winters and Nixon above her head and felt her stomach sink.
"You didn't tell 'em?" said Winters, rejoining the conversation.
The tone in his voice confirming the tight feeling in Eve's gut.
"No, I couldn't get 'em to shut up," said Nixon.
"What, tell us what?" asked Harry.
"Guts and Glory here applied for a transfer," said Nixon, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
"What?" asked Harry, turning to face Winters.
Eve studied the man's face, eyes sharp. Winters was leaving them? After everything they'd been through together, he was going to leave Easy?
"13th Airborne are heading out for the Pacific right away," he said, a grim look on his face even as he tried to be reassuring in his tone.
Eve traded a bewildered look with Welsh, not quite sure she was hearing correctly. Surely, the man who fought so hard with them wouldn't abandon them on the eve of battle in the Pacific? He'd be a fantastic leader no matter where they put him, but he belonged with Easy, where he knew the men and they knew him and respected him in kind.
They knew no matter what, that Winters had their best interest in mind. He wasn't one for overconfidence either, despite some of the ballsy moves they'd executed and pulled off over the last year. Part of that was his natural gift for understanding the best way to attack a problem, the other part was his understanding of the men, and their capabilities, which was equally as important as their understanding and faith in him.
Eve didn't want to jump anywhere without Winters on the ground to lead them.
"If I'm going," Winters said softly, "I wanna get it over with."
That at least was logic she could respect. She remembered all too well the anxiety they'd all felt in Aldbourne, where they were constantly on pins and needles awaiting mission after scrapped mission until they finally jumped into Holland, despite the disaster that it was.
She was already struggling with the edge of anxiety. She couldn't imagine another three or four months waiting to be called up to jump over and over again once more.
"Are you in on this too?" demanded Harry, looking at Nixon.
"Ah, I can't let him go by himself," said Nixon. "He doesn't know where it is."
Harry laughed, though it sounded sad.
"Well, at least he won't be going off by himself," said Eve, genuinely relieved that Winters was going with Nix. It didn't seem right, one without the other. "Forgive me for saying it, sir, but you tend to run off half-cocked more often than makes me comfortable. At least now, Nix'll be there to pester you for it."
Nixon and Winters snorted, even as the redhead protested futilely. They all knew it was true regardless.
And then Harry said what they'd all been thinking: "You're leaving the men?"
Winters met Welsh's eyes, and then Eve's. "They don't need me anymore."
Bullshit, Eve thought but was too polite to say.
She let him keep his delusion, it was kinder than pointing out how much Easy Company relied on Winters. She knew him well enough to know that if he didn't genuinely believe that the men were in good hands, he wouldn't leave them. She wondered if Speirs was planning to stay, and resolved to ask him tomorrow.
But if he did go, it could mean great things for Winters's career in the army. He might even become a Colonel like Sink, in charge of his own regiment or division. She wasn't sure that was what Winters wanted, but he was the kind of man who was desperate to be useful. And that was something that she could understand and respect very much; it was what had driven her to join the Army in the first place.
A random thought struck her as she imagined Winters no longer a member of the Screaming Eagles. The thought, half-cocked, popped out of her mouth. "Isn't the 13th Airborne emblem a flying unicorn? You're leaving the Eagles for a Unicorn?"
Nixon laughed, coughing up the smoke he'd just inhaled as Winters ducked his head and then swatted at her.
"What?" she said. It wasn't that ridiculous, but her confusion just set the men off again laughing long and heartily.
Nothing more was said for a long while.
Eve mulled over Winters's decision. A part of her echoed his sentiment. If she was going to go, she might as well get it over with and get over there rather than twiddle her thumbs here. But joining another unit meant starting over from scratch. She remembered all too well the long fight she had to get the men to respect her. She had no guarantee another unit would welcome her like Easy had, and part of her didn't want them to. Eve had known for a long time that she wanted to be an Eagle until she died and she wanted to do it with her friends.
It dawned on her that these men, these dear friends probably wouldn't be together again for a long while, if ever, if everything went as Winters hoped it.
She warred with herself over whether or not to ask the question buzzing through her head and finally decided now was as good a time as any. Better to get it over with and then leave them alone for a while.
"So," she said, shattering the silence, "when are you leaving?"
"Eager to get rid of me, Buchanan?" said Winters with a smile.
"No, sir," she said, stretching to make sure that her leg, which had fallen asleep at some point, was starting to wake up. "I just wanna know when the riot's going to start. The men will be awfully sad to see you go. I will too." She remembered all too well the last time Easy was about to go into combat without Winters, and the mutiny the NCOs had offered Colonel Sink to keep him with them. She hoped she could at least head that off at the pass with Speirs in command.
Winters nodded, ducking his head. "I meet with the General tomorrow."
"Good luck, sir," she said, meaning it with all her heart.
If he wanted to go, she certainly wasn't going to stand in his way or waste her breath trying to convince him otherwise. It hadn't worked on her and she was certain it wouldn't work on Winters and it would be hypocritical to try.
His heart was set on going. She understood that better than anyone.
Standing, Eve shook his hand. "I hope things work out," she said, wishing him luck.
She left them, hoping to give the three men, who'd grown so close, a bit of privacy so they could say goodbye and savor their last moments together.
Five days later, Winters quietly informed her that the General had decided to deny his request to transfer.
Eve could see his disappointment and clasped him on the shoulder, saying, "I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Despite being personally grateful that Winters was sticking around, she knew how much the rejection must've stung. "You were probably overqualified for the position anyways."
"Thanks," he said, touching her shoulder as he headed back to the CP.
"Sir?" she called, halting him. When he turned back, she added: "I'm glad you're still with us, sir, even though you deserve the promotion the transfer would have given you."
He nodded and continued inside.
Eve put the conversation aside and got back to work. She needed to find Liebgott, Webster and Skinny. Speirs had a mission for a three-man squad. An informant had come forward this morning with the location of a Nazi Commandant responsible for a camp just like Landsberg.
Liebgott had personally asked her to put him on any assignments involving bringing the people responsible for those death camps to justice, should they ever come up.
Though she didn't think it was the best idea to send him out – Joe hadn't finished grieving over what he'd seen in that camp, couldn't get over his part in telling them they were to be locked back up like animals, corralled until they could be looked after – she'd given her word.
She hoped he would find some closure on this mission. She hoped the team didn't come back even more shattered.
She was waiting for them when the jeep pulled back into town.
It looked bad. Rather than find closure, as she'd hoped they would, the three men had instead returned angrier than ever.
Whatever had happened out there hadn't helped any of them in the least.
She gripped the back of Skinny's neck in what amounted to an embrace as he tried to pull himself together to report his shot that killed the fleeing German. Webster looked on, his apathy starkly foiling his guilt and grief. Liebgott didn't speak at all.
"Come on, boys," she said. "Let's go find you some hot chow."
They followed her like lost ducklings to the mess hall.
Halfway through a hot meal, Webster got up to go report to his assignment at the checkpoint. She watched him go, and tried not to worry.
Less than twenty minutes later, Eve met the ambulance with Speirs and Webster, a medic and a surgeon there as well.
She couldn't believe it. Some asshole hadn't bothered to secure a barrel to the back of his fucking truck and now Janovec was dead.
Janovec was a replacement, but well liked in spite of that, and if the rumors were true, well liked by the ladies.
Winters came running up to see for himself.
"It's Private Janovec," confirmed the medic.
"He was dead when they brought him in," said the surgeon, pulling the blanket over Janovec's face.
Eve swallowed the bile, the regret and impotent rage. Why are people still dying? This war is supposed to be over! How many more guys are going to die while we're sitting on our thumbs, waiting to go off to another fight?
"Seventy-five points," said Webster, absently.
"What?" asked Speirs sharply.
Winters gave Webster a sharp look as well, but Eve had already heard the man perfectly well.
There was nothing any of them could do. The Army had set it up so that most men would be forced to stay in, so they would have to stay and fight in the Pacific.
It wasn't fair. These men had done what they'd set out to do. Easy Company had invaded Europe and won. And now it felt like they were being punished for it.
"He was ten points short," Webster continued, sounding like he was in a daze.
She left them, too angry to sit staring after the ambulance, and led the way back to the CP to fill out the paperwork, Winters and Speirs right behind her.
A new dread filled her as she went. How many more of her friends had survived everything the Nazis could throw at them, only to die before they could get home to see their families, all because of some stupid points?
-End Chapter-
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