Eleanor cringed and ducked her head down as the plane shook violently. Clinging to her seat for dear life, she pivoted and glanced out the door to see orange and white light appearing and swirling in the night sky. "Stand up and hook up!" Lieutenant Meehan commanded, before he turned on unsteady feet and began to, it appeared, argue with the pilots in the front. Eleanor carefully pulled herself to her feet, keeping one hand braced on the side of the plane, as she reached up and tried to hook her line to the rail above her head. As the plane continued to jerk around in turbulence, she missed two or three times before she managed to successfully hook it in and tug on it for confirmation. She would be the first to jump and was watching the red light in front of her like a hawk. The plane lurched violently and, had she not been hooked in, she would've been flattened to the aircraft's floor. She was suddenly overcome with the desire to take her chances outside amidst the chaos, rather than stay inside the plane any longer.
That instinct solidified as Meehan looked out a side window and then turned back to her with wide eyes. Before she could ask for orders, Meehan had grabbed her by her pack straps and shoved her roughly out the door. As she fell through the opening, the light turned green from the corner of her eye, giving the others the go ahead to evacuate. Her heart hammered in relief as her freefall was broken after what felt like an eternity and she was jerked upward as her chute deployed and spread above her. Her relief was immediately shattered, however, as the chaotic sounds erupting all around her came back into focus and she looked up, her eyes widening in horror. Rather than seeing the chutes of her plane-mates floating above her, she watched as the plane exploded into a ball of flames.
"No!" A shout erupted from her throat as she shielded her eyes from the bright flames. Her concern for her comrades quickly faded into concern for herself as she flinched at the debris that began raining down around her. "No, no, no, no, no." She began to mutter to herself as she flailed in different directions, trying to avoid the burning debris. She looked down at the ground to see if she could navigate where she was supposed to be landing, but couldn't see any of the markers that the pathfinders had laid to mark the drop zone. Aside from the moments when occasional bursts of fire lit up the night, everything below was pitch dark. A cry of surprise ripped out of Eleanor's throat as her parachute jerked abruptly and then she felt herself accelerating toward the earth again. She was falling too quickly. Looking up, she could just barely make out the growing holes in her chute, lined with an orange glow. It must have caught fire from some of the falling debris of her plane.
I'm gonna die. I'm gonna hit the ground. I'm going to die. She thought frantically, trying desperately to get a good look at the ground which was quickly approaching. Enough of her chute was intact that she was still coming in at an angle, but much too quickly to survive the impact. Or, at the very least, she thought, she'd be stuck on the ground in enemy territory with two broken legs. She continued to pick up speed and let out a scream of panic as she found that she still couldn't make out where she was landing. When she had just resigned herself to the fact that pain was coming, a glimmer of light below caught her eye. For a moment, she thought she was witnessing an explosion below her and her heart rate sped up even more.
However, when she heard the noise that accompanied the explosion, she looked up and saw the remnants of it in the sky through the widening gaps in her chute. Her gaze immediately snapped back down to the ground. It was a reflection. She was passing over water. Without a moment's hesitation, she began to release the straps that were keeping her tethered to her chute.
"Please, God." She whispered a few times, before finally releasing the last strap and plummeting into the darkness below. The impact with the water was painful, but welcome when compared to the alternative. The force of the impact caused her to gasp and her mouth and nose immediately filled with water. Stretching out her arms, she tried to propel herself back toward the surface, expecting to be close already, but she soon discovered that she had fallen quite a ways down and the weight of her leg bag, which she thought was going to fall off in the air, was dragging her down even further. She pulled frantically at the strap, trying to find the release. The men had spent twenty minutes teaching her how to fasten the strange contraption (after they'd spent an hour trying to figure it out themselves). Thankfully, the bag was easier to get off than it was to put on, and Eleanor managed to pull it loose in a matter of seconds and flail her way back to the surface.
She tried to take in a big gulp of air as she broke the surface, but the water that had already entered her system caused her to cough and choke violently. Trying to calm the burning in her lungs by taking in shallower breaths, Eleanor turned in the water, trying to make out which way she should be swimming to get back to land quickly. She was fairly close to the edge of the small lake. She swam a few yards before the water became shallow enough to walk and took a moment to let the Jell-O feeling in her legs pass. When she finally began trudging toward shore again, her boots sank deeply in the mud and it was difficult to lift her feet – this pond was flooded, and it was like walking through a swamp. As the shock of surviving her near-death experience wore off, she became increasingly more aware of the fact that she was now alone in enemy territory. There was a tree-line nearby, and she decided she needed to get to the woods for cover before pulling out her map and trying to sort out where exactly she'd landed. She pulled her rifle off of her back, holding it across her chest as she went along. She'd need to inspect it later – the water had likely ruined any chance she had of shooting it now. Considering this, she pulled her bayonet blade out of its sheath on her hip and snapped it into place on the end of the rifle's barrel.
As she continued to walk, her wet uniform weighing heavily on her, the water level petered out and she was soon hiking up a small bank, covered in tall weeds. She froze in her place as she heard footsteps approaching from over the crest of the bank and lowered herself into the weeds, bayonet at the ready. She saw the silhouette of a person just a few short feet away, who had also frozen in the dark. She hesitated, considering using the code word. She needed to see if this was one of her own men, but if he wasn't, she would give herself away and she didn't know if she could charge this man with nothing but a bayonet.
"Flash." A whisper pierced through the dark, and the ache in Eleanor's chest dissipated in relief.
"Thunder." She whispered back, standing up to reveal herself. She approached the man, trying to make his face out through the black paint they'd all rubbed onto their cheeks. She stopped short when she recognized him as Lieutenant Speirs.
"It's good to see you, Sir." She admitted, despite her surprise at seeing him and not one of her own Easy Company comrades. "Lieutenant Price, E Company medic." She told him.
"I know who you are." He replied matter-of-factly. Eleanor felt sheepish – she'd definitely made eye contact with him and even spoken to him during her time in Toccoa and England, but she had never been formally introduced to him.
"Are you in the wrong drop zone, or am I?" She asked, trying to break the ice again. Dog Company and Easy Company had separate drop zones and would be meeting at the rendezvous point later.
"We both are." He answered simply. "We need to keep moving." He continued, glancing at the tree line. "The noise could have drawn enemy attention." He began, walking toward the woods at a brisk pace, not waiting for her to follow.
"What noise?" Eleanor asked, rushing to fall into step next to him. He gave her a sidelong glance that looked almost amused.
"What do you think brought me over here? You didn't exactly come in quietly." He informed her.
"Oh." Eleanor said, glad that her face was streaked with paint and mud to disguise the heat that flushed into her cheeks. "Well, I didn't exactly come in with a chute." She retorted.
"I saw." He replied, his eyes still trained on the space ahead of them as they entered the woods. Eleanor mentally chastised herself, forcing herself to survey their surroundings, too. "Where's the rest of your plane?"
"Gone." She replied simply. She couldn't definitively say, but she figured that if anyone had managed to get out of that explosion, she would've seen them on the way down.
"How'd you get out?" He asked quietly.
"Meehan." She whispered. Speirs seemed to understand, because he didn't question her any further, although he did shoot her another sideways glance, as if he was anxiously anticipating for her to burst into tears. Eleanor hadn't had the chance to mourn for her plane mates or feel survivor's guilt over the way Meehan had saved her yet. And although things had quieted down, and it was worming its way back into her mind, she knew that this still wasn't the time or place. She did her best to turn her feelings off like a switch. She could turn them back on later and release the pain.
"So I'm assuming you know where we're going?" She whispered after another moment. He gave a curt nod. He did a complete 360, surveying the area before slowing to a stop and gesturing for her to do the same.
"What do you have on you?" He asked, looking her up and down as if seeking to answer the question on his own.
"Not much." She replied, turning to face him. "I lost my leg bag in the pond." She informed him, noticing that his was gone as well. Why had they been forced to wear those stupid leg bags? "Aside from the rifle, I've got my hand gun. Both are full of water, I'm sure. I lost my medic bag, but I packed a couple extra syrettes of morphine and a bandage roll in my pockets, just in case. It'll have to do until we hit the rendezvous point—I can make a new medic kit out of supplies I bum from the other companies." Eleanor explained, patting the various pockets on her soaked uniform to make sure she was accounting for everything.
"Good. I'll look at your guns- you sit down for a minute and bandage that up." He told her, his eyes traveling up to a spot on the sliver of forehead that showed underneath her helmet. Eleanor's eyebrows furrowed, and she reached up to touch the spot. She was surprised when her fingers came back wet with blood.
"Oh." She breathed. "Must've gotten hit by debris on the way down." She said. With all of the adrenaline rushing through her system, she hadn't even felt it. She handed her rifle over to Speirs and then reached up to unstrap her helmet. She hesitated, unsure that she wanted to pull it off just yet.
"Go ahead. I'm keeping an eye out." Speirs told her. With that encouragement, she pulled her helmet off and sighed as her head could finally breathe in the cool night air. Her hair, which had been bunched and tied tight against her head to keep it under her helmet, was now weighed down heavily with water. She took a moment to let it down, wringing it out over her shoulder. Speirs watched for a few moments before turning his attention to her weapon, which he began to dismantle and inspect, looking up and around every few moments to make sure that the two were still alone.
Eleanor opted to leave her hair down for now so that it could dry. Reaching up, she prodded at the cut on her head a bit more, trying to feel how long and deep it was. It wasn't long, but it was a little deeper than she originally thought. She decided that it could certainly do without stitches. She felt around in her pockets and pulled out her roll of bandaging. It was the smallest she'd had, which was why it had been the one to end up in her pocket and not in the bag with the rest. She didn't have any butterfly strips, which was what the cut really needed, so if she wanted to bandage it, she would have to wrap this bandaging around her head a few times to stop the bleeding. It was a waste of bandage that may be needed if they came across someone worse off, or if Speirs managed to obtain a wound on say, his leg or abdomen. Eleanor contemplated as she watched the man who was now kneeling on the ground, changing out the wet gunpowder for dry gunpowder on her rifle. She was here to make sure the men made it out alive; she needed to be prepared for anything. She decided that she would leave the cut for now, as chances were it would clot on its own, and then she could reevaluate if it continued to bleed. She used the sleeve of her wet uniform to dab away the blood as best she could before putting her helmet back on over her frizzy waves.
She pulled her handgun out of a holster on her leg and opened the different chambers, inspecting it. It didn't appear to be too bad – it would dry out. Her rifle would have to do until then. When she looked back up from her pistol, tucking it into its holster, Speirs was watching her, having finished fixing her rifle. His brows were furrowed. "You need me to bandage it for you?" He asked, handing her back her rifle.
"No, it's not as bad as it looks. Besides, we should keep moving." She insisted.
"It's bleeding a lot." He told her, his eyes narrowing with uncertainty.
"Head cuts do that. It'll close up on its own." She told him matter-of-factly, beginning to walk in the direction they had been heading. Speirs sighed before moving to follow her. He caught up to her and began to lead the way through the woods again, keeping an eye on his compass. Eleanor knew that she should be applying pressure to the cut on her head for the next few minutes, but she ignored that instinct because of the need she also felt to keep her rifle raised and ready.
Forty-five minutes later, Eleanor was having trouble staying alert.
"How much longer do you think it'll be before we get to the rendezvous point?" She asked.
"A couple of hours at least." Speirs asked, glancing at her curiously. "Probably not until after sun-up. Need a break?"
"No. Just wondering." She mumbled. It was getting hard for her to pick her feet up and put one in front of the other, and she was battling the dizziness that was setting in.
"You're still bleeding." Speirs announced, stopping and grabbing her arm.
"Just barely." She told him. "I'm fine."
"You need to sit down for a minute." He insisted.
"I need to find Easy." She retorted. The blood loss was clearly affecting her mood as well, as quick as she was to talk back to him.
"Don't be foolish, lieutenant." He countered sternly. "We're going to take a fifteen minute break and bandage that wound."
Eleanor sighed and nodded, too weak to argue with the man. Speirs led her over to a fallen log and gestured for her to sit down. She obeyed, pulling the roll of bandaging out and placing it in his waiting palm.
"Got anything to clean it up with?" He asked, pulling her helmet off to inspect the cut. Eleanor shook her head. Remembering the canteen hanging on his pack, he put a dab of water on the end of the gauze and pressed it against her head for a minute. After cleaning it and applying pressure for a few moments, he unrolled the bandage and wrapped it around her head. After wrapping it up tight and placing her helmet back on her head, Speirs sat down on the log next to her, and the two sat in silence.
"Water?" He asked, holding the canteen out to her. Eleanor accepted it, to his surprise, and took a couple of small swigs before handing it back.
"Thanks." She whispered. It was quiet for another long moment before she spoke again. "You'd think we would have run into someone else by now." She said quietly.
"I'm sure the others are fine. Probably landed closer to the DZ than we did." He replied, knowing that she was concerned for the men of Easy Company. Eleanor recognized that he was probably right – they were likely more concerned about her, if anyone had seen her plane explode. Eleanor suddenly sat up straighter as a thought occurred to her.
"Why aren't you with the other men from your plane?" She questioned.
"I was the last one out. My hookup got jammed, and it took me a minute to sort it out." He answered. That certainly explained how he ended up so far away from his men. Eleanor didn't know what to make of Speirs. In Toccoa, she had always been intimidated by him – he had a very serious presence. Now, in the woodlands of France, he didn't seem so intimidating. Perhaps the nature of a combat zone was enough to make her care less about such things.
Eleanor was torn from her thoughts when the sound of footsteps approaching caused her and Speirs' spines to stiffen. She immediately lifted her rifle, but Speirs got to his feet, keeping low, and gestured for her to stay behind him. Being medical personnel, she wasn't supposed to use her gun unless it was for self-defense. She might not have even been given the two firearms she had if it weren't for the fact that her superiors, all the way up to Colonel Sink, were concerned about her survival.
Readying himself, Speirs whispered "Flash," and Eleanor waited with baited breath. The movement stopped and the area was quiet for a long moment. When the next sound broke out, it wasn't from the same place, where Speirs and Eleanor's attention was trained. Instead, it came from behind Eleanor, as a large figure pushed through the brush and wrapped an arm around her neck and shoulders, jerking her backwards. A choked cry erupted from her throat and Ron turned to see to her momentarily, before getting distracted by the other German soldier who ambushed him from the front. Eleanor saw Speirs and the other soldier facing off with each other, guns raised, as she dropped her rifle and struggled against the man trying to apprehend her. Wanting to remember the scant amount of combat she'd learned, she forced her body to relax for a moment and his hold on her tightened. Her struggling had knocked the man's handgun out of his grip, and he now wrapped both arms around her in a bear hug, restraining her. He was shouting in German to his comrade, who had by now engaged in a scuffle with Speirs.
Sucking in a deep breath, Eleanor brought her arm up as far as she could before shifting her body to the right and bringing her fist back down into the man's groin. The impact was only enough to make the man groan and lean forward, but it brought his head close enough for Eleanor to throw her own head back into his face, as she'd been taught. She heard a crack that she assumed was his nose breaking, and he released her, reaching up to grab at his face. Eleanor stumbled forward for her rifle, managing to grab it and turn around just as the soldier descended on her in a rough tackle. He forced the rifle into a horizontal position and pushed it toward her neck, as she gripped it and attempted to push it back toward him. He was gaining ground and she felt the metal barrel begin to constrict her breathing as she struggled against the larger man. Just as she began to see black edges encroaching on her vision, a gunshot rang out and the man above her flinched, reacting to it. She took this moment to force the muzzle of her own rifle upward, away from herself, and pulled the trigger. The man's head flew back from the impact and she felt a shocking amount of blood rain down on her as the man went limp on top of her.
The night grew eerily quiet again, and fear gripped Eleanor at the thought of being alone again, or worse, alone with the other soldier. "Lieutenant?" She called out, struggling to push the man off of her. She gasped in relief as the man was shoved off of her and Speirs' face appeared above her. He offered her a hand up, and she took it, glancing over at the other soldier who also lay on the ground, apparently dead. The gunshot that had distracted her opponent must've been the one that ended his friend's life.
"Are you wounded?" Speirs asked, giving her a wary once-over. The two were struggling to catch their breath.
"No, I'm alright. You?" She questioned back, resisting her medic's instinct to start prodding at him to feel for injuries.
"I'm fine. We need to get moving. There are probably other krauts in the area and they'll be attracted by the gunfire." He insisted hurriedly, reaching down to pick up Eleanor's rifle and handing it to her. Eleanor nodded and followed him through the woods, jumping at every twig snap that didn't sound like it was coming from either of them. She was on high alert, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. She hadn't come to the war in Europe expecting not to take any lives, although it was common and normal for medical personnel to walk away without doing so. However, she certainly didn't imagine that if she did have to take a life, it'd be within a couple hours of landing in Normandy.
"Why do you think he ignored my medical badge?" She dared to whisper after another half hour of walking with no sign of danger. Speirs slowed his pace and spared a glance back at her before training his eyes back on the path he was forging forward.
"I don't know. Saw you with me and thought you'd make good leverage? To make me go without a fight. Seemed like they wanted to take us prisoner." He contemplated aloud. Eleanor nodded, swallowing hard as she processed it. It made sense - after all, the man who'd gotten the leg-up on her could have simply shot her in the back of the head and ended it without a fight. Knowing now that he'd chosen another path made a lump rise in her throat. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so eager to pull the trigger herself.
"You did good back there." Speirs assured her after her prolonged silence. "I'm sure you won't get into many more situations like that. Most respect the badge."
"Thanks." She said. She was just relieved that she hadn't had to take on both of them alone. Relieved that she still had Speirs to guide her to the rendezvous point.
Lt. Ronald Speirs, suffice it to say, was impressed. Not only had the woman trailing behind him managed to get to the earth in one piece - she had also shown a surprising amount of determination to get to the rendezvous point and help her men. Then, in the midst of an ambush, she had managed to escape from and kill her attacker, only to continue calmly following orders with the man's blood smeared across her face. She had obviously struggled against the German soldier and might not have walked away from the scuffle if not for a stroke of luck, but he thought for sure she'd crumble at the first sight of death - any death, let alone one that she'd caused.
He didn't like that she continued to walk behind him, despite the fact that she'd been surprised from behind only a short while ago, but it still felt more dangerous to have her running point and traipsing head-first into unknown areas. Besides, he was the one navigating the way to their destination.
"Stay close" He murmured over his shoulder, making certain to issue it as a command and not the paranoid request that it actually was. Speirs had only spent a few hours with this woman, but it didn't matter how well he knew her -she was a woman. Some evolutionary mechanism in him was screaming for him to put her safety first, and he was beginning to understand why the army had taken so long to test out a female in the ranks. He was relieved at the mere thought of getting Eleanor Price to the rendezvous point and unloading her on Easy Company, where she would become their charge.