Nixon - September 1943

"Captain Nixon, sir?"

"Hm? What?" Lewis Nixon barked. He turned to face the intelligence staff private who stood in the doorway.

"Sir, I have the newest support staff member with me." "Who?" Nixon asked.

"Ms. Rooney, she's being added to our staff. I gave you a memo before we boarded the train to New-."
"Right, right," Nixon waved his hand, ushering the private into the large room that would serve as 2nd battalion's intelligence HQ while they were in Aldbourne. "What did you say her name was again?" "Emily, Emily Rooney," the young woman stepped out from behind the private. Nixon took in the neatly dressed young woman. Her dark red-brown hair was neatly curled and pinned back. Her full lips were painted a pleasing shade of red and, Nixon noted appreciatively, her stockings looked like real silk under the Army-issued skirt.

"Ever been a secretary before?"

Emily swallowed, "Well sir, I'm not a secretary, so no." Nixon raised an eyebrow, "is that not what you're here to do?" "No, sir," Emily's voice was stronger now. "I was working with the cartographers before," she hesitated at his expressionless face, "with the O.S.S. but I told them I'd take any international assignment they have, as soon as they have it. So, here I am!" she enthused then quickly folded her hands demurely in front of her.

"Did you come over on the, the uh..?

"Samaria, yes sir."
"Uh okay, well I'm guessing you know where you're supposed to sleep and all that?" Nixon glanced at the private still standing by. "Yes sir."

"Okay, well I'll let you know when I need you I guess, and when we get working on things."

"I'm supposed to start with coding and morse code instruction, sir. Or at least that's what I was told."

"Okay, great well- I guess you can get started with the radiomen as soon as they're done with maneuvers." Nixon turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.

"Great, thank you, sir." Nixon waited for the sound of footsteps before looking briefly over his shoulder to watch Ms. Rooney exit with the private behind her.

Nixon's brow furrowed in thought. He opened his leather valise and dug around through various papers. Not finding what he wanted, he shuffled through the loosely strewn papers across his desk. Around him typewriters still sat in their cases, reports sat in neat but forgotten stacks, abandoned by the soldiers who were called away before they properly settled in. The Army standard organization was there, but so was the unfamiliarity of a new workspace.

"Davis!" Nixon called over his shoulder. After a moment the private who had introduced Emily came in.

"Sir?" he asked.

"I can't find that memo you gave me. Do we have a dossier on this Ms. Rooney or something I can look at to get a better idea of who she is?"

"Yes sir," Private Davis said, "one moment." Davis went to a pile of stacked brown file pockets sitting on the corner of Nixon's desk. A few seconds later he pulled a neatly paper-clipped folder from one of the file pockets and handed it to Nixon. On the top page, to the left of a small black and white photo read Miss Rooney, Emily R.

"Thank you," Nixon said, his eyes transfixed on her profile. The private nodded and exited the door. Nixon sank into his desk chair as he scanned the report in his hands.

5', 5", Brown Hair, Blue Eyes. Fort Wayne, IN. Unmarried, no children. Previously positioned with the O.S.S, cartographers. Languages: none. Special skills: morse code, code-breaking. Education: St. Mary's College. Previous profession: typist. Nixon scanned the report with a guileless curiosity. Interesting, he thought. What was special about this young lady? How did she find herself working first a coveted intelligence post and what possessed her to seek out a job that got her outfitted with army battalion intelligence?

Nixon passed the morning getting situated. He went back and forth between meetings with other intelligence staff, Lieutenant Strayer, and Major Horton. Nixon couldn't help but wonder what Easy Company was up to. As much as he didn't miss being at Sobel's mercy, he did miss being among the men. Did he miss the physical training and the maneuvers? Not a bit. But a piece of him missed feeling in the thick of things. He was so removed as an intelligence officer. He was stuck between two worlds, and he wanted to be part of both of them. Nixon wanted to be the first to know but he also wanted to be among the men he trained with. Although he served the entire 2nd battalion, he would always consider himself a part of Easy Company.

Luckily, he had Dick Winters. Winters served as his bridge between the regiment and the company. Winters had also become a dear friend and confidant during their time at Toccoa. So naturally, Nixon had to fill him in on the newest member of their battalion's staff.

"So how does she seem? Fit for the job?" Winter's asked sliding his tray in front of the mess attendant.

"I guess so," Nixon said, following behind him, "whatever that is."

"I thought you were an intelligence officer," Winter's shot Nixon a skeptical little smile, "aren't you supposed to know?" "I know," Nixon said brashly, "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do with her." He emphasized that last word as if Emily were a random child he was handed and told to take care of.

"I'm sure you'll get a better idea as we continue training," Winter's reassured him.

"I guess so. Apparently, she's supposed to teach morse code, so at least she'll be occupied with that for a while."

Winter's chuckled, "she's an adult woman, Lew, and you're not her babysitter."

"Barely," Nixon scoffed, "she's twenty-two."

"We've got a lot of men here that are younger than that."

"Sure, even so." Nixon and Winters sat down at a long mess table. Winters pushed the food around on his tray as Nixon continued to process what it would mean to manage and work alongside a female.

"I guess we'll see," he said resignedly.