After spending nine days in Carentan, the 101st was relieved by the 83rd Infantry Division. Loaded into the backs of trucks, they were sent to Cherbourg where a field camp was waiting for the weary Paratroopers. There, they received lukewarm showers, followed by a hot meal. A lot of the guys spent their money on booze and there was plenty around the battered city. Dallin thought the men would sack out right after supper, but her friends wanted a stiff drink.
Because the tent was empty, Dallin opened the flaps and left.
Exploring the battered city, she walked along the quiet road and could hear the sea bump against the sharp rocks below her. Crossing her arms over her chest, a cool breeze brushed by her face, causing a chill to roll down her spine. It was a clear night, for once it wasn't raining.
When Dallin reached the end of the street, she saw a figure standing on the pier. It didn't take her long to recognize the silhouette, she knew that shadow from anywhere. Arms leaving her chest, Dallin stepped onto the wooden pier and made her way towards him. When he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, a tiny smile met his lips. But she wasn't smiling back at him.
"Wearhouse…is polite way of saying…whorehouse". Dallin whispered.
He frowned;
"you still think about that?"
"You tell me once…I am most beautiful creature on God's green earth".
Shifty swallowed and his frown deepened;
"I meant that".
Taking in a sharp breath, Dallin's arms crossed over her chest again;
"yes but…you will go back to whorehouse".
"I won't-"
"yes, because you are not sure…about me".
Shaking his head, Shifty took a step towards her;
"Dallin…I did a stupid thing".
"It's…okay, Shifty". Dallin mumbled, "before we kiss…we were friends, yes?"
Slowly, he nodded and whispered;
"yeah…".
Blinking a few times, Dallin looked down at her boots;
"then…let's be friends again".
Shifty closed his eyes for a moment and took in a tearful breath;
"Dallin…don't-"
"it's okay, Shifty". She told him again, "you are…young…we both are young. And one day, you will tell other girl they are the most beautiful creature on God's green earth…only, you will mean it that time".
Tears reached the corners of his eyes;
"hell…you'll always have a home in Clinchco, you know".
Dallin's lips twitched;
"thank you".
It didn't feel awkward, but Dallin knew Shifty needed some time alone. Giving his arm a gentle squeeze, Dallin turned around and walked off the pier, leaving him to his thoughts. She crossed her arms back over her chest and kept her head low. Dallin reached the pavement and walked through the battered city once again.
She was eager to get back to Aldbourne. It was depressing, seeing France in ruins because of the war. Though she hadn't been to France before the war, her Abba would often tell her how lovely the country was. Especially Paris. But Dallin wasn't thinking too deeply about Paris, she was thinking of bed. Heading back to where she had come from, Dallin was aiming for the tents.
Passing by a few quiet shops, Winters stepped out from one of them. Dallin looked up at the Lieutenant and gave him a tiny smile, which he returned. Closing the shop door, Winters then asked her;
"you didn't feel like drinking with the men?"
Dallin shook her head;
"no, sir…not tonight".
Winters walked down one step and joined Dallin on the pavement.
Small smile still on his face, he told her;
"the night we took Brecourt…I took my first drink of cider".
Her eyes widened a little;
"you drink alcohol now, sir?"
Winters shook his head;
"a one-time thing, Dill".
She shrugged;
"well…it was probably needed".
"I think it was". Winters agreed quietly. "Have you been walking around for long?"
Dallin sighed;
"no…I head to bed now, sir".
Nodding, he said;
"I'll walk you back".
The pair continued along the pavement, passing by quiet shops but busy pubs. The French were serving a lot of American's that night, who were all anxious to get away from France. Their nerves were shattered from their first jump into combat. The men still alive were so close to death. A hard drink was needed. Winters didn't put a limit on how much a man could drink, not during their first night away from the line.
A few moments of silence fell between them.
And Winters broke that silence, by asking her;
"why did you go back for your tin?"
Dallin thought about lying. But lying wouldn't have done her any favors.
So, she told him;
"Felix…my cat, sir". Dallin mumbled, "his picture is in my tin…I have memories of home and Jan and Jakub in my tin…I could not let them go".
Nodding slowly, he said;
"I understand that Dill…but it was still completely reckless. You put yourself right into the hornet's nest. I know how valuable memories can be, Dill but even if you did lose that tin, you'd never forget the memories inside".
Dallin understood completely what he meant.
And he was right.
"I had to get it". She told him, "I could not finish the war without them".
But Dallin would still run through a rain of bullets to grab her tin.
And she would do the same for anyone in Easy.
"Will Blithe be okay?" Dallin asked Winters, wanting to change the subject.
"Neavles is sure he'll make a full recovery". He informed her, "Neavles was asking about you as well, he's glad you haven't paid him a visit to the aid station".
Eyes lightening, she said;
"I am very happy…the bullet hit my canteen and not my back, sir".
Winters smiled and looked at her;
"me too, Dill".
Rubbing her lips together first, Dallin looked up at him;
"we did fine in Normandy, sir".
He nodded, his eyes softening a little;
"we did".
A sad look crossed her eyes when she asked him;
"how many…are left in Easy?"
Sharing that same sad look, Winters told her;
"including myself, five officers…and sixty-nine enlisted".
Shaking her head, Dallin whispered;
"that is…not enough".
"We know four who have died". Winters continued to tell her, "Jordan, Everett, Metzler…and Bloser".
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Dallin asked;
"Lieutenant Meehan's plane?"
Shaking his head, Winters whispered;
"I received reports that someone witnessed his plane crash".
Dallin felt her shoulders drop.
While Winters took in a quiet and deep breath, before telling her;
"we lost Lieutenant Lavenson".
Still staring at him, she watched, while the Lieutenant bit down on his bottom lip.
"Plane got lost over the Atlantic on the way back to the States". He finished off quietly.
Blinking back the burning sensation in her eyes, Dallin cleared her throat;
"you are…commander of Easy now, sir?"
Winters nodded;
"that's right". He replied softly, "we've had two commanders…I'm the third".
He was the right man for the job. Winters was a natural-born leader.
"The 101st have a ceremony on the 1st of July". Winters soon informed her, "how are you in large crowds, Private Gorski?"
Dallin looked confused;
"what do you mean, sir?"
All she got in return was a small smile.
They had reached the tents.
Giving her a nod, Winters said;
"goodnight, Dill".
…
Before the war, Dallin was a typical girl from Poland. Much like her friends in Easy, they all worked hard and tried their best to make their family and loved ones proud. Before the war, they didn't fear for their lives every day, or wake up in a foxhole, soaking wet and covered in mud and blood. And after years of training, over a month of combat, the men were being rewarded for their sacrifice in Normandy. They received a Unit Citation. And a star, to put on their jump wings. Before the ceremony, Winters was promoted to Captain and officially became Company Commander of Easy Company.
A man named General Omar Bradley, awarded Winters the Distinguished Service Cross, for leading the attack at Brecourt. Men who would receive Purple Hearts names were called out soon after Winters had received his award. And the Captain stood on the platform, by Colonel Sink. The last thing General Omar did, was present the Congressional Medal of Honor, to an officer named Lieutenant Colonel Cole. It was a long ceremony; a lot of men had been awarded many medals. And they had a lot of Companies to get through before they reached Easy.
"2nd Lieutenant Lynn Compton will relieve the Silver Star for his leadership skills during the Brecourt Manor Battery assault…". Colonel Sink read out, "Sergeant William Guarnere will receive the Silver Star for his bravery and leadership abilities during the Brecourt Manor Battery assault".
Dallin briefly looked at Guarnere, to see a small look of shock reach his eyes.
"Private First Class Gerald Lorraine will receive the Silver Star for his bravery and eagerness to help during the Brecourt Manor Battery assault". Colonel Sink listed. "And lastly, Private First Class Dallin Gorski…".
Her eyes widened a little.
"…will receive the Silver Star for her bravery during the Brecourt Manor Battery assault". Sink informed the Division, "will the soldiers please step forward to receive their awards".
Feeling her mouth go incredibly dry, Dallin followed behind Guarnere and walked up the platform to receive her medal. It was strange. The men were very quiet. No one cheered and Dallin could hear Sink and Winters congratulate Lorraine, Buck, and Guarnere. Standing before the Colonel, he smiled and pinned the medal on her uniform. With a salute, he said;
"congratulations, Private Gorski".
Dallin saluted him back and barely whispered;
"thank you…sir".
Moving down the small stage, she reached Winters.
She saluted him. And he saluted her back, with a smile;
"congratulations, Private".
Licking her dry lips, she whispered;
"thank you, sir".
Leaving the platform, Sink read out the men who would receive the Bronze Star during the battery assault;
"Sergeant Carwood Lipton…Private Robert Wynn…Private Cleveland Petty…Private Walter Hendrix…Private Donald Malarkey…Private Myron Ranney…Private Joseph Liebgott…Private John Plesha…Sergeant Joseph Toye…Private John Hall…Sergeant Julius Houck…".
When the ceremony ended, the men were reminded of their fallen friends. The air felt heavy with grief and that feeling weighed them down for the rest of the day. By the next morning, on the 2nd, they wondered if they'd ever leave France. Dallin took her usual walk around the battered city after Winters gave Easy a morning of physical training. Walking by a shop, she was suddenly pulled back, upon hearing a familiar sound.
Music.
And it wasn't just any old song. It was Jumpin Jive, by Cab Calloway.
Very quickly, Dallin opened the door and stepped inside. Sitting around the radio was Malarkey, Skip, and Penkala. A fond smile reached her lips, while she made her way towards them and sat between Malarkey and Skip. If she closed her eyes, Dallin could remember being in Toccoa and hearing that song for the first time. But her foot didn't start tapping until Glenn Miller's in the mood started to play. Malarkey laughed and eventually got onto his feet, a cigarette between his lips. He danced around the empty shop, almost knocking into a few wooden shelves and chairs.
Watching him for a few moments, Dallin eventually got up and decided to join him. Malarkey smiled and took her hands, while they danced around in a clumsy circle. The scene was sweet, while the two good friends danced around to Glenn Miller in an abandoned French shop. And even when Winters and Welsh walked into the shop, the two friends continued to smile and dance. The officers took a seat and enjoyed listening to American music for the first time in two months. Better yet, the Lieutenant's were able to munch on a Hershey's bar.
When the song ended, Malarkey kissed her hand before letting go.
Almost one week later and the 101st were trucked to Utah Beach. Hundreds of ships sat offshore, as far as the eye could see. Smaller boats, LSTs, LCMs, and other crafts carrying men and supplies piled the waters between the ships and the sand. And there, standing as bold as ever, was the American flag. Dallin was sure she saw a lot of tears in some of the men's eyes, Winters included. She figured they must have been missing home and their friends, who would never get to go home.
"You excited to be going back to England, squirt?" Skip asked while they admired the ships.
Dallin nodded;
"yes…are you?"
"You'd bet". He said lightly, "tomorrow, that's when we leave France".
"It feels weird a bit…I feel like…we're leaving something behind".
Understanding what she meant, Skip wrapped his arm around her shoulders;
"we'll make the most of it for them".
"Don't look now". Malarkey suddenly whispered, "but he's staring at us".
Skip grimaced;
"is he?"
"Yeah".
Dallin looked confused;
"who?"
"Lieutenant Speirs". Malarkey told her lowly, "some mad shit is being said about him, Dill".
Skip snorted;
"which story? The one where he shot those prisoners on D-Day…or the one where he shot his own guy-"
"what?" Dallin cut him off, "why would he do that?"
"The NCO was drunk". Malarkey said, "he was being too loud…and he wasn't following orders. So, Speirs shot him".
"I heard they call the cat Sparky". Skip informed his friends, "pretty fitting, huh?"
"He took out last gun at Brecourt". Dallin suddenly remembered, "but…I never saw him".
"Don't look…you'll make it obvious". Malarkey whispered.
Rolling her eyes, Dallin ignored her friend and looked to her left. She couldn't see him right away, because the sun was blocking his face. But soon, the officer stepped to the side and Dallin saw him. His dark brown eyes stared back at her, brown hair shining under the sunbeams. He didn't look like a "Sparky" or a guy who was thirsty for blood. Speirs stood tall, he was lean and athletic and painted the perfect picture of what a Paratrooper should look like. Dallin was sure his eyes might have softened a little when he caught her staring back.
Feeling her lips twitch, she looked away and mumbled;
"he is not…scary looking".
Skip smirked;
"don't let those handsome looks fool you, squirt. The mans insane".
But for whatever reason, she refused to believe that.
"No". Dallin said softly, "I don't think so, Uncle Skip".
…
Walking onto a ship the next day, one hundred men boarded. No one waved the soldiers away like back in America but Easy was in for a treat during supper. There, the men ate their weight in steak, chicken, soup, eggs, and mashed potatoes. It was the best meal they had eaten since leaving for Normandy. Cokes and beers were served as refreshments. Coke had never tasted so good. After drinking days old canteen water, it was nice to drink something cold and fizzy for a change.
Putting her empty plate to the side, Dallin spotted Winters waiting in the line again. A tiny smile met her lips when she saw the man's eyes light up at the sight of ice cream. Smile widening, she left the mess hall and walked up a flight of stairs to head up on deck. Leaning against the railings first, Dallin then climbed onto the second bar, to get a better look at France, while the country disappeared before her eyes.
"How's that medal feel?"
Looking over her shoulder, Dallin shrugged;
"fine, sir".
Nixon smirked;
"don't fall in, huh? I think that medal would pull you right down to the bottom".
She snorted softly;
"it's not…heavy, sir".
Nixon reached her side and leaned against the railings;
"well…there goes France". He said, "can't say I'll miss it".
With a tiny frown, Dallin looked down at the medal pinned on her uniform;
"what does…it mean?"
"The medal? Or France?"
"The medal".
Sighing quietly, Nixon said;
"it means you fought bravely…and you've earned it".
Shaking her head, Dallin whispered;
"I don't know…what I did that was brave".
Looking at her, Nixon smiled softly;
"Captain Hester put your name forward for the Silver Star".
Frown deepening, she looked back at Nixon;
"why?"
"Because…you had the guts to give an officer an order". He said, "which saved that objective a lot of time. If it wasn't for you telling the Captain to do something, it might have taken Winters longer to start destroying those guns".
Shaking her head, Dallin whispered;
"that's…not brave".
"Then what is it?"
Shrugging, she mumbled;
"maybe…clever?"
Nixon chuckled;
"well, maybe, kiddo…but Hester was impressed. And besides, you were brave enough to cross that field twice…and pick up a watch for your Captain along the way".
Licking her bottom lip, Dallin looked back out to sea and told Nixon;
"then I will be brave enough to tell you off, sir".
Amused, he asked;
"me?"
Nodding, Dallin told him;
"yes…Lieutenant Buck is not just a jock, sir".
Nixon resisted the urge to roll his eyes;
"kiddo, Compton doesn't need one of his guys defending him. And I picked him to lead PT because he's fit, right?"
Shaking her head, she mumbled;
"you pick him because you think he is mindless jock but…Buck is not, sir".
Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a pack of Chelsea smokes and muttered;
"no, I didn't".
Dallin looked at him, eyes lightening with amusement;
"you did, sir". She said, "Buck is good athlete, sir but…there is a lot more to him than we see".
Cigarette between his lips, he lit it up and mumbled;
"right…I'll lay off Compton".
"Thank you".
Smirking, Nixon remarked;
"you're lucky I don't toss you into the shitting sea, kiddo".
"Not before I get another Silver Star, sir".
He laughed;
"don't push your damn luck".