Emily - November 1943

Emily and Luz beat their final opponents by 50. She walked home that night with a new sense of pride bolstered by her new soldier friends' praise.

Their first opponents had been Joe Liebgott and Moe Alley. Their speedy victory had been chalked up to beginners luck on Emily's part. So, she graciously accepted a second invitation to play, this time against Donald Malarkey and Skip Muck. After another inevitable win the men grew rowdy with the idea that Emily Rooney was seemingly unbeatable.

After another three games in a row Nixon had come over to let Emily know that he and Welsh were headed back to base, if she wanted to walk back with them. Luz and the other soldiers around her whined for her to stay. After their time together, Emily felt she could trust the men. She at least felt she could trust Luz so she told Nixon to go on without her.

"How'd you get so good?" Luz asked as they walked back.

"Played a lot in college."

"How was college?" "College was," Emily hesitated, "fine."

"Just fine?" Luz's figure was barely visible in the darkness. A few paces ahead of them walked Joe Toye and Frank Perconte.

"I really enjoyed learning!"

"Oh yeah? What'd you study?" George sounded genuinely interested.

"Geography and History."

"Smart girl, eh?" Emily thought she could make out the flash of George's smile.

"I love those subjects, it's easy when you love it," she said.

"That makes sense why you're here then! Teaching us common soldiers all about maps and such," George said, "so why just fine then? Since you got to study what you love?" Emily focused on the gravel crunching beneath their steps as she tried to formulate the best way to explain herself. She didn't know why she felt so comfortable being vulnerable with George right now, but she did. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just because he was being so friendly. "I don't think anyone wanted me there, not to learn at least."

"Whaddya mean?" George's warm shoulder brushed hers briefly as he moved closer to listen.

Emily exhaled, "I was so excited to learn and to get to go to college! But when I got there I quickly realized that it was just one giant pantomime." She paused. George remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "We were encouraged to spend time with the Notre Dame boys, and it wasn't subtle. I didn't really feel challenged academically or that my scores or assignments mattered. All my classmates were consumed with the latest hair styles, their boyfriends, dances, and as far as academics went," Emily scoffed, "they didn't really care about learning or thinking critically," she was ranting now, "as long as they appeared to be a 'successful' student, that's as far as it mattered. A respectable young woman with a formal education. That moves you up in life. But no one actually cares if you learn anything or have any thoughts of your own!"

George was quiet and Emily felt a flush taking over her cheeks. She was grateful for the shield of darkness.

"Well, good thing you didn't listen to them," George finally said.

"What?" Emily turned to look at him, despite the low visibility.

"Well, you're here aren't ya. You're actually doing something with your education. You're doing everything they didn't want you too and that's gutsy."

Emily allowed herself to smile slightly, "yeah, I guess so."

"Not a lot of dames would leave everything behind to join the European front. I mean, how many women do you see around you right now?"
Emily chuckled, "there's plenty of other brave women here."

"Yeah, and you're one of them." They were approaching base at this point and the few dim lamps that hung on the front of the buildings illuminated George's face slightly.

"Thank you, George," Emily smiled softly at him.

"Anytime." He bumped her gently with his shoulder. "You want me to walk you back to HQ?"

"That's okay, we're fifty feet away," she gestured, "though I appreciate the offer."

"Sure, see you later." George disappeared into the darkness with Joe and Frank.

The next morning Emily felt more exhausted than she had in a long time. She wasn't hungover - or at least she thought. To be fair she hadn't experienced that sensation before.

"Alright kid?" Nixon asked as he trudged into the intelligence room.

"Kid?" she asked dryly. He shot her a look that said, yeah and?
"Yeah I'm good, thanks. You alright?"

"I'm up aren't I."

"Indeed," Emily chuckled, "coffee?" "Sure," he accepted the drink, "is this..?"

"Regular," Emily didn't have the energy to elaborate until she had consumed her own cup of coffee. Luckily, her and Nixon's shorthand had evolved into a clear language.

After a few quiet minutes of mutual existence Nixon finally said, "we're getting you on the rifle range today."

"Okay," Emily said dully.

Nixon squinted at her, "okay?"

"Yeah, okay, just tell me what time so I can change into my pants."

"Okay," Nixon drawled suspiciously.

"What?"

"I was expecting a little more pushback or more questions."

"What's there to ask?"
"I don't know, you always seem to come up with something!"

"Well I just said let me know so I can change."

"Right, well are you nervous?" Emily raised her eyebrows at him, "I've shot a gun before, Captain."

Nixon winced into his coffee.

"What?" Emily asked, "don't like women shooting guns?"
"No," Nixon said defensively, "god, you make me sound like a misogynist. I don't like that title."
"Captain?" Emily was confused.

Nixon waived his hand is disgust, "yeah that."

"Why?"

"I just don't care for it. I don't care for the frou-frou and fanfare of it all."

"This is coming from a man who has an exclusive drink preference?"

Nixon gave her a cool look which caved into a little chuckle. "I'm here to do a job, a job I don't particularly want to do, and that's it," he said with finality.

His attitude came as a surprise to Emily. Her impression of Lewis Nixon thus far had been that of an out of touch but clever and capable officer. She never had any sense that he took his military career seriously, like Winters for example; Nixon's flippant attitude made that clear. But before now she would've guessed that title and rank meant something to him. Their conversation revealed a surprising humility Emily hadn't expected to find in him. He was here out of duty to his nation just as much as any other foot soldier who had enlisted, not for glory. Guilt tugged slightly in Emily's stomach. What was she here for? Not glory, but if she was being honest, not in humble service of her country either. Between the two of them, she was the opportunistic one using the events of war to seek adventure.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Nixon interrupted her introspection.

"Sorry," Emily shook her head to clear the fog of her mind, "I'm tired."

"Wild night?"

"Not really," she said innocently.

"Really? I'm disappointed in George Luz." Nixon smiled devilishly.

Emily couldn't help the red flush that crept up her cheeks. There was nothing to be embarrassed about but Emily was Irish, so her blushes were frequent and beyond her control.

Nixon clocked it immediately and wasn't about to be gracious enough to let it go ignored, "what?" he demanded with a half-smile, "what are you keeping from me?"

"Nothing!" Emily insisted.

"Aw come on, you know I'll find out."

"There's nothing to find out!"

"There isn't? Why are you so red then?" Nixon was unrelenting.

"I don't know! I can't help it!" Emily pressed her hands against her cheeks, desperately trying to cool her face, "I'm not hiding anything!"
Nixon raised his eyebrows in doubt. Quickly, Emily collected herself and straightened, determined to get her power back from him, "There's nothing to hide. Besides, I am spoken for, Captain," she said haughtily.

Nixon wrinkled his nose in distaste at her pointed use of the title he had just admitted he hated. Emily smiled smugly back at him and the conversation was put to rest. The pair ditched their empty mugs and were about to start out for their morning duties when Private Allen Vest stopped them in the doorway.

"A letter for Miss Rooney," he said holding out an envelope.

"Thank you," Emily took it and Vest was gone as quickly as he arrived.

"Finally a letter from that boyfriend of yours?"

"Fiancee," Emily corrected, opening the letter.

"Hey ask him if he's had a chance to try the local cuisine yet. If he's anywhere close to Turin, I know this lovely little hilltop place I'd love to recommend."

Emily looked up from the letter to shoot Nixon a disgusted look. He raised his eyebrows in mock offense, "at least say hi for me!", then he swaggered out leaving Emily shaking her head and smiling. She had barely comprehended the few words she had already read, having been distracted by Nixon. She began again,

Dearest Emily,

I'm glad to hear you've settled in England easily. I apologize for the time since my last letter. I can't begin to describe to you how difficult things are over here and frankly, I've had more to worry about than our correspondence. I do appreciate each of your letters, and your enduring loyalty to me…

A slight pang of guilt hit Emily at those words. Why though? She asked herself, had she been unfaithful? Not in the slightest. She had done nothing wrong or untoward since she'd been separated from John. But, though not explicitly wrong, she had done things she knew he wouldn't approve of. She had played darts and cards, she'd drank and socialized with men without a female companion. She had been alone in a room with who John would consider a strange man on more than one occasion. This was on top of the liberties he had already been a good sport about; her working, shooting, and potentially being sent to the continent. These were all things that were acceptable from women who were single and not from her class, especially when there was plenty of dignified work to do on the home-front. And so Emily had omitted the details of her relationships and aspirations in her letters to John. She most definitely would not be conveying a hello to him from Nixon.

Emily finished the letter, folded it up, and stuffed it in her breast pocket. From her desk on the far left of the room she collected a box of maps and hurried out of the room. She was running late. Emily walked as quickly along the pebbled road as she could while still maintaining her poise. The box hadn't seemed to weigh much when she first picked it up but it grew heavier in her arms with every step. The edge of the cardboard dug into her stomach, pulling on her skirt. A sudden anxiety of how her skirt may be twisted around when she entered the classroom came over her. She bounced the box on her hip which provided some momentary respite and room to desperately pull at her skirt in an effort to straighten it. She was roughly twenty-five yards away when two hands reached out for the box, accompanied by a friendly voice.

"Em, let me take that for you," George Luz said.

Emily's initial instinct was to protest the help. She was more than capable but George was already taking the box from her and she couldn't deny her relief.

She straightened and smoothed her skirt before she looked up at her rescuer, "thank you, George. You sure it's not too much? You've got a lot on you right now."

"Another couple pounds won't hurt, whoa!" George feigned dropping the box and laughed when Emily lunged to support him. "Seriously, no sweat. Where are we going?"

Emily pointed straight ahead to the building they were approaching. "Perfect, that's where I'm supposed to be anyways," George said.

Emily grinned at the trouble maker, "you running late too?"

George smiled crookedly back at her, "I left for the bathroom while we were getting settled in. I don't think they got up to much without me if we were waiting on these." George lifted the box in indication.

Emily flushed, "I know, I know, I got distracted and lost track of time."

"By anything good?" George's question was innocent but there was something about it that felt probative.

"Letter from John," Emily patted her breast pocket, doing her best to keep her voice nonchalant. She noticed that George took the opportunity to glance at her chest and redness flared in her cheeks again. George quickly looked away and said, "nice, how's he doing? Remind me, brother or boyfriend?"

"Fiancee, and he's doing well."

"Nice," George stepped aside to let Emily enter first through the already open doorway. Inside, Welsh was already lecturing.

"Yesterday we talked about magnetic declination and the left add right subtract rule," Welsh noticed her enter with George close behind, "today," he continued, "we're gonna put it into practice."

"Thanks George," Emily whispered her thanks and took the box from him. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Emily walked around the soldiers, occasionally having to step over a canteen or helmet, until she reached the front of the classroom. As Welsh continued to speak, Emily took out gridded maps from her box and began to distribute them to the soldiers.

"Glad you could join us," Welsh grinned a gapped tooth smile at her once the lesson was ended. His hands were stuffed deep into his pants pockets and he rocked back and forth on his heels as Emily re-organized the maps in her box.

"I'm so sorry I was late," she grimaced, "I - I don't have any excuse just lost track of time."

Welsh gave a shrug that told her it wasn't a big deal. He didn't say anything more but remained standing only feet from her, watching her work.

"That was a good lesson," she said to break the silence, "they seemed to really get it."

"Yeah, it always makes more sense when once can practice it on their own," Welsh said.

"Agreed, best way to learn is by doing."

"I'm relieved to think you went well though," Welsh said settling himself on the edge of the table. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her with those disarming blue eyes, "I only learned all of this a couple days ago. It really should've been you teaching them."

Emily smiled at the ground in response to his slight compliment, "you did a fine job. Besides, you're their leader. It's important to establish that you're the one they should go to for information and support."

"Pfft," Welsh scoffed, "I'm sure that's true, but no one wants to look at my ugly mug at the front of a classroom. All of those guys would have paid better attention to a beautiful lady like you."

Emily fully flushed at this blatant compliment.

Welsh bit at his bottom lip, "anyways, time to get on to the next thing," he stood, "want to leave that there for this afternoon?" Emily nodded, "that was the plan. Just tidying things up a bit so you can easily find everything you need later."

"Thanks," Welsh said. Emily watched his lean figure walk out the door, silhouetted by the mid-morning sun streaming in. A little shiver ran through her body. Thoughts were creeping up in her mind that she was afraid to touch. If she acknowledged them there would be no denying them. She refused to be distracted from her plan; make the most of her career now before she had to return home and settle down. She couldn't give anyone an excuse to send her home, not her parents or John or Nixon or any of the soldiers she worked alongside. Any acknowledgement of her growing crush would only lead to trouble.