Thank you, vintagecowgirl101 and GumihoGold for your supportive reviews! They put a smile on my face. Here's chapter two! :)

"You've really got to put pressure on it." Captain Alan Mills reminded Eleanor as she pressed down on the neck of another medic-in-training. "The throat puts out a lot of blood when it's hit. He'll bleed out in seconds if you don't stem the flow."

Mills was a doctor that had been conscripted to stay at Toccoa and train medics of the 101st Airborne to hold their own on the battlefield. He'd probably wind up at a medical unit in Europe or the Pacific, operating on young men after they're transported off the field.

Medic training wasn't proving easy for Eleanor. The steps for dressing wounds weren't hard to remember when she was being tested on them, but with the pressure of the clock ticking and her superior watching, she made small mistakes. She couldn't bring herself to imagine the pressure that bullets and screaming would bring. One thing at a time. It didn't help that she constantly had the pressure to prove herself floating in the back of her mind. It was hard to focus on what she was doing when she was always trying to determine how the men around her were perceiving her.

She instructed the "wounded" medic, Eugene Roe, to lift his arm up and put his hand behind his head so his elbow jutted out, and proceeded to wrap the bandage around his neck, anchoring it under his armpit to create pressure on the "wounded" area. Roe was one of the other Easy Company combat medics. Her interactions with him had been civil enough. At first she'd thought he was being cold toward her, but she was beginning to think he was just a man of few words.

With the other men, however, she got no such feeling. At breakfast that day, she'd wound up sitting alone, the obvious pariah of the 506th. Pushing the memory from her mind, she pretended to give Roe a surrette of morphine and sighed in relief when Captain Mills moved on to observe another pair.

"Good job." Roe told her, his lips quirking up ever-so-slightly in encouragement.

"Thanks. Switch?" She suggested, thankful when he hopped up, allowing her to lie there and be the patient.

"So…where ya from?" He asked her as he began to perform the steps on her. A slight blush rose in his cheeks when he had to gather her hair in his hands and brush it away from her neck in order to bandage it.

"Ohio, originally. I just came here from North Carolina, though. Been there for a couple of years." She told him, eyes trained on the ceiling. She allowed him to raise her head and manipulate her arm behind her head like she'd done to him. "What about you?"

"Louisiana." He told her. She likely could have guessed that, but she wasn't an expert on accents so she had refrained from assuming. "They really gonna put you in combat?" He asked after a minute.

"That's the plan." She replied. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, before taking a step back and allowing the approaching Captain to survey his bandaging work. "So what do the others do while we're here?" She asked as Roe helped her up off of the table. They'd been training for a few hours and she was secretly hoping that she was missing a run up Currahee.

"They're in their own seminars; about strategy and weapons." He told her, causing her to straighten up a bit as they walked out of the building together - class was over.

"Don't we need to know that stuff too? We'll be on the field." She asked, frustrated. She loved learning about military strategy in officer's school and she'd be much more engaged in those seminars than the training she was forced to go through with the Medical Corps for the first half of every day.

"We sit in on some of it, too. Don't worry." He assured her, and she bristled but tried not to show it.

"I'm not." She insisted quietly. Roe sent her a sideways glance, sizing her up. Lieutenant Eleanor Price sure was headstrong.

Eleanor stood at attention with the men as Sobel inspected their uniforms. After she and Roe had gotten out of training, she'd stopped to change into her fatigues and report to the training field. Unfortunately, she hadn't missed any runs up Toccoa, and she had a feeling one might be coming later that night. As for right now, she couldn't tear her eyes off of the obstacle course in front of her. Obstacle course drills had been one of her favorite parts of training at Fort Bragg and had been the first way she'd stood out to her superior officers as a possible candidate for the paratroopers, who receive more vigorous physical training than any other divisions. She'd always finished first and had been obsessed with shaving her personal record down each time. She'd never run a course with men before, and her mind reeled with possibilities for proving herself. She'd fit under that barbed wire with no problems at all, and -

"Price!" Eleanor nearly jumped as she was pulled out of her thoughts by a voice she was quickly learning to hate. "I can see your hair, Price." Sobel spoke, once again coming too close to her face for comfort. He was trying to intimidate her, make her feel small. He said nothing else and Eleanor was unsure of how to respond. Her hair had been pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck and was, indeed, peeking out from the bottom of her helmet.

"As can I with yours, sir." She replied calmly, immediately regretting it. She had only contemplated saying it; hadn't thought she actually would -maybe if he'd call her by her rank like he did everyone else, she wouldn't have such knee-jerk reactions. Despite the fact that none of them dared laugh or move, the tension in the air shot sky high and the men made shocked eye contact with each other while Sobel's attention was on her. Sobel's eyes had narrowed into venomous slits and he regarded her in silence for a few moments.

"Put it away or cut it off. I don't want to see it again." He told her simply, his voice deadly calm.

"Yes sir." She replied, respectfully this time. He watched her for a few unsettling moments before continuing on to the next person. Surely that hadn't been it? Was it possible that his bark was worse than his bite? Eleanor exhaled through her nose, trying to relax her muscles as she turned her attention back to the obstacles in front of her.

"Come on, Price! What the hell are you doing? Worried about breaking a nail?" Sobel spat at Eleanor as she finished crawling under the barbed wire. She had been sorely mistaken in thinking that he'd chosen to overlook her impertinence. He was focusing 90% of his taunting and scolding on her as she worked her way through the course - in fact, he hadn't stopped screaming at her from the moment the timer started - despite the fact that she was doing exceptionally well. Of course, there were men whose muscled legs and forearms pulled them further and faster than her. However, she was managing to keep herself in the top five, being lean, flexible, and agile. And this time she wasn't surrendering an inch to the men who tried to push past her with their wounded egos.

She tried to tune out Sobel's harassment, choosing to take stock of her own abilities instead. This must be killing you, Sobel, she thought to herself, a fierce determination kicking in that drove her on even faster. As she cleared the tires, her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the large wooden wall looming in the distance. That wall had to be, what...eight feet? There was no rope...no footholds. Just a tall, smooth slab of wood standing between her and success. Choking down her anxiety at the sight, she picked up speed, hoping that a good running start would be the trick. When she reached the wall she jumped, her boots skidding along the smooth surface as she desperately tried to walk up it. She reached as far as she could, praying that her fingers would meet the top edge. She had no such luck, and before she knew it, she was back on the ground, stumbling to keep her footing.

She hadn't made it. She flinched away from the men who had caught up to her and were pulling themselves up and over the wall. Still determined, she ran back a few yards and rushed at the wall again. Her boots made the same scuffling sounds as she reached desperately for the top. The edge of her fingertips brushed it this time, but she wasn't able to get a grip and she slid back down once again. Her frustration was mounting and panic set in as she tuned back into the world and heard Sobel laying into her even harder.

"You make it over that wall or you're going home, Price!" He was shouting, having found his opportunity. Winters, who had already finished and was encouraging the other men to keep moving, began to approach her, but Sobel cut in quickly.

"Don't you help her, Lieutenant! Don't help her!" He shouted furiously. Winters seemed conflicted, but kept his distance.

"Come on, Price. You've got this." He told her, unsure of himself. It seemed he wasn't entirely sure if she could do it, but wanted to fulfill his usual role by providing moral support.

"Come on, Price! Are you going to be a soldier or are you going to be a tart?" Sobel yelled, and the hairs on the back of Eleanor's neck stood up. Winters also sent a disbelieving look in Sobel's direction, though the raging man didn't notice it. A Private on the other side of the wall had leaned over to empty the contents of his stomach and Sobel rushed over to him, turning his fury on the poor boy.

Eleanor backed up once again to prepare for another try and watched as the larger man from the mess hall the first night, Randleman, Roe had called him, actually slowed down as he reached it. Stopping at the foot of the wall, he quickly dropped to his knees and laced his fingers, cupping his hands together as a foothold. Shooting her a conspiratorial look, he nodded his head toward the wall. Eleanor hated the thought of accepting help for this, but she didn't have time to think about it. If Sobel came back now, they'd both be in trouble. Without thinking, she got a running start and stepped into Randleman's hand. His boost was plenty to get her to the top of the wall and she swung her legs over, jumping down on the other side. Sobel stopped berating the sick Private and watched in disbelief as she ran past him. His disbelief soon turned back to anger and he stormed back around the wall; it was too late. Randleman was already jumping down from the wall himself and proceeded with the course, right behind Eleanor. He cursed under his breath and Winters ran off to cheer for someone else, not wanting to be questioned about the ordeal.

Eleanor still didn't come in last place, but she was angry about the time she lost trying to get over the wall. She was even more angry that she couldn't get over the wall by herself. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Either way, she wasn't in a particularly gracious mood as she stood at the finish, waiting for the rest to get through the course. She'd taken off her helmet and pulled out her hair tie to let her sweaty scalp breathe, Sobel-be-damned.

"That wall gives everyone trouble the first time." A deep voice came from behind her and she turned her head to find herself looking straight into the broad chest of the man who'd helped her. "I'm Bull Randleman."

She regarded him. She'd had the urge to snap when he first approached her, but as she corrected her gaze to meet his kind eyes, her ego deflated.

"Nora Price." She introduced herself, offering him a hand. His own giant hand engulfed it with a gentle squeeze and he gave her a polite nod. "And...Thank you." She said softly, not desiring for everyone around to hear.

"You'll get it next time." He assured her.

"Yeah." She agreed, turning to face Winters as he dismissed them for dinner and freetime. The group of men began to shuffle toward the barracks and Roe turned to look at her when she didn't follow.

"You comin'?" He asked, causing a few of the other heads to turn.

"I'll see you at the mess hall in a bit." She insisted, waving him on.

After the men cleared out, she sighed, turning back to the course. "All right, wall. It's just you and me now."

"I heard there was steam coming out of Sobel's ears when she finished the obstacle course." Lewis Nixon said just over an hour later at dinner, grinning as he took a bite of his sandwich. The corners of Winters' mouth quirked upwards and he shook his head.

"She was fast, Nixon. If she could get up that wall, she could probably beat Sobel through it." He explained, lowering his voice. Nixon laughed at this and glanced around the cafeteria.

"Say, where is she?" He wondered aloud. Dinner had started half an hour ago and there was no sign of her.

"Not sure. Taking a long shower?" Winters theorized.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" Nixon replied jokingly. "How's she getting along with the men?"

Winters shoveled a bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth, shrugging a shoulder. "She's not, really. They're starting to warm up to her, I think. But she's still wary of them. Well, us. Wants to prove herself."

"Makes sense." Nixon replied. "But she can start by proving she's got a personality. Otherwise she'll end like you, with only me for a friend."

"Very funny." Winters retorted before pushing himself up from his seat; he'd finished his meal quickly, as usual. "I'll send her this way if I run into her." He told Nixon, earning a thumbs up as he excused himself from the table.

Winters sighed as he watched the moving figure on the obstacle course, the watercolor streaks of dusk glowing behind her. She still hadn't changed out of her fatigues and he was willing to bet she'd never left at all. How she expected to get up the wall after an hour of trying was beyond him. She had to be exhausted.

He made his way toward the course, stopping when he noticed another soldier leaning against one of the barracks, watching the scene as well. Lieutenant Ronald Speirs of Dog Company watched the girl run back and forth, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His face was a mask of indifference, but his eyes followed her with an intense curiosity. This wasn't unusual, Winters had observed - most of the men at Toccoa were reacting with some level of interest or curiosity when it came to the young woman who'd recently joined their ranks.

"She's persistent." He said simply, acknowledging Winters' presence. Winters came to stand next to him and declined when offered a cigarette.

"She certainly is." Winters replied. He hadn't had many conversations with the surly lieutenant and wasn't quite sure what else to say.

"She's been at it for an hour now." Speirs added, flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and putting it out with his shoe. "Needs to be shown some technique."

With that, he walked away and left Winters standing alone, considering the girl. He watched her try a few more times before sighing and making his way over to her.

"You're missing dinner." He told her as he reached the wall. She spared him only a quick glance before running at the wall again. Her fingers barely managed to brush the top edge and she groaned as her body slammed against the wooden surface on the way down, knocking her to the ground. Her hands were red and raw from grabbing at the wood so many times.

"I'm not hungry." She finally answered as Winters offered her a hand and helped her up.

"You need to eat and rest. We may have to march tonight." He reminded her.

"None of it's gonna matter if I get sent home." She retorted, sizing up the wall with a frustrated look in her eye.

"Come to dinner and I'll show you how to do this later." He bargained with her and he saw a spark of interest in her eye as she began to really listen to him for the first time.

"Show me now and then I'll come to dinner." She negotiated. Winters considered ordering her to dinner but decided to compromise.

"Your body's too close to the wall when you step." He told her simply. She cocked her head slightly as she took in the information and looked at the wall before looking back at him.

"Show me."

"When you step against the wall, you want to lean your torso back further, that way the force of your body is going into the wall. If you stay too vertical, the force of your body is pushing your body down." He explained, showing her how to step against the wall. She practiced doing it the way he did a couple of times, pushing against the wall and back off. "Now try."

She moved back and ran for the wall, trying to step the way he taught her, and was shocked and elated when her fingers clamped easily over the top edge of the wall. She hung there for a moment, her arm muscles too weak from all of her failed attempts. She didn't have the upper body strength, even on her best day, to pull herself up using just her arms, the way some of the men did. Winters began to give her advice, but she ignored it, placing her feet flat against the wall and walking up to her hands until her body was folded and her butt was sticking out.

"There we go." She mumbled to herself. She struggled awkwardly to swing a leg over and threw her arms up in victory as she came to sit on top of it.

Winters smiled and clapped a couple of times before gesturing for her to jump down. "See? All a matter of technique, not strength. Let me show you a better way to use your legs when you first grab on." He continued as she joined him on the ground again, unable to stop beaming at her accomplishment. "And then dinner." He added sternly.

By the time Eleanor arrived at the Mess Hall (escorted there by Winters, who did not follow her in) much of the men, including Nixon, had already cleared out. After having the cook scrape up the remains of what was left in the dinner pans, she stood uncertainly at the front of the room with her tray. The non-coms of Easy were still socializing at their tables, some of them having gone back to beg for seconds. She fleetingly considered whether or not she could get away with hiding out in her cabin for dinner and bringing the dishes back later, but she knew that it was neither allowed nor reasonable. She noticed Eugene Roe's back at one of the tables and began to make her way over, but she was flagged down by Randleman before she got there.

"Over here, Nora." He beckoned her with a wave, gesturing for the other men to scoot down and make room. If the men were surprised or uncomfortable, they certainly didn't show it. She sat down in the place allotted and suddenly felt very dirty next to the men who had already showered and changed out of their muddy fatigues.

"Lemme introduce you to everybody," Bull insisted, and Eleanor felt a twinge of relief at the suggestion. She'd found herself in that awkward space where she hadn't formally introduced herself to the men yet, but had been in their vicinity enough that it was uncomfortable to initiate it now. "This is Don Malarkey." He began, gesturing to the ginger-haired man sitting across from her. He smiled sheepishly and gave her a nod of greeting. "That's Skip Muck." He continued, pointing to the one next to Malarkey.

"Frank Perconte, Joe Toye, George Luz, Joe Liebgott, and this sourpuss here is Bill Guarnere." He finished labeling everyone at their table. The men offered small acknowledgements and greetings (a wink in the case of George Luz), and Eleanor spent a few moments looking at each man's face, wanting to remember their names.

"At this table back here you've got Floyd Talbert, Johnny Martin, Carwood Lipton, and you already know Eugene Roe." He continued, gesturing to the table behind them where a few more men sat. "The rest have already left. Guys, this is Nora Price."

"Pleased to meet you all." She told them with a slight nod, taking a sip of her juice carton.

"Say, Nora, if you need help cutting that hair off, I'm a barber." Liebgott spoke up and the others gave him skeptical looks. "I ain't got a lot of experience with dames, though."

"You got that right." Luz chimed in, causing the entire table to erupt with laughter. Eleanor attempted (and failed) to suppress a smile at the jab. Liebgott chucked a napkin at Luz's head.

"Thank you, Liebgott. I think I'll hold off on cutting it for now though." She replied. "Otherwise Sobel will have to think of a real reason to hate me and I don't want him to hurt himself." She added after a moment, causing the table to erupt again. She knew it was low to gain acceptance in a group by talking about someone else, but she felt she could make a special exception for Captain Herbert Sobel. She tried not to puff up at their reaction to her insult.

"I think I could see the smoke coming out of his ears when you gave it to him in formation." Muck added.

"Yeah, you'd best be careful, bird. The man's got a fragile ego and he'll never get off your back if you damage it." Malarkey told her seriously.

"Well I think I'm past that point, but I'll keep it in mind. Thank you." She replied.

"So, Nora, you got folks?" Bill Guarnere chimed in gruffly, earning puzzled looks from the men around him. She stared at him with wide, innocent eyes for a moment as she tried to process the purpose behind the abrupt subject change.

"Do I have-? Yes, I have folks." She answered.

"How do they feel about all-a this?" He asked, cutting to the chase.

"Oh, they're fine with it." She insisted, taking a bite of her food. When the men continued to watch her quietly, she realized they needed more explanation. "They met in the army. My mother was a nurse and my father was in the cavalry. They met in Europe." She explained. It was true; the army had always been a way of life in her family. As a non-com, her father had not progressed very far in rank but had continued to serve faithfully after the Great War until his retirement a few years prior. Her parents, though they would've liked to shelter her as much as any parents, were proud that she was given the chance to serve.

"How old are ya?" Guarnere continued to investigate.

"Give it a rest, Guarnere." Bull warned.

"What? I'm just makin' conversation." He insisted.

"You're not supposed to ask a woman that." Toye told him. It was the first time he'd spoken and Eleanor was surprised by his deep, rasping voice.

"It's alright." She insisted before addressing Guarnere. "I'm twenty-one."

"See? She's older than you." Liebgott taunted, earning a glare from Wild Bill Guarnere.

"Yeah, so? It didn't help her over that wall." He defended, turning the attention back on her. A mischievous look lit Eleanor's eyes.

"I'll bet you a pack of cigs that I'll make it over next time." She challenged him. A spark that looked a bit like admiration lit Guarnere's eyes.

"You're on, bird."