Chapter Ten

"Dear, come on now. You have a pretty insistent guest downstairs." Mrs. Davies' voice cut through Eleanor's sleep. It wasn't the first time her patient host had poked her head in the door that morning, but it might as well have been the first, as far as Eleanor's memory extended. "I don't want to let him in here, with you being indecent and all, but he says he's not leaving until you're up."

Eleanor bolted upright in bed when she opened her eyes and realized how much light was streaming in the bedroom windows.

"Thank you, Mrs. Davies. I'll be right out." She offered as graciously as she could, despite the incessant pounding of her headache. She glanced at the clock hanging on the opposite wall and discovered that if she hurried, she could still report in time for the briefing. In what might be a record-breaking amount of time, Eleanor found herself barreling down the wooden staircase - it helped that she didn't have to pick out real clothes anymore - and found Lipton waiting in the foyer. He was graciously turning down food that the Davies were offering him and his smile faded into mild annoyance when he spotted Eleanor. Of course, mild annoyance for Lipton was so subtle it was impossible to even spot without a trained eye.

"There she is." He announced. Eleanor chose to forgo a greeting and accepted a piece of toast from Mrs. Davies with a heartfelt thank you before ushering Lipton out the front door.

"Thank you for coming after me, Lip." She acknowledged, despite the grumpy attitude her hangover was giving her. She nibbled on the toast as they walked down the street. She wished she'd grabbed a glass of water on the way out to nurse her headache.

"Of course." He replied. "I saw how much you had to drink last night..." He added.

"Yes, well...not my brightest moment." She replied.

"You feeling okay?" He asked, eying her sympathetically.

"I don't know - ask me after I throw up." She replied, tossing what was left of the toast aside after she decided that she couldn't stomach it.

"Maybe we'll seat you next to the door…" He thought aloud. As they arrived at the tent, he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her to the side of the tent entrance to talk to her. "Listen...I don't mean to pry…" He continued.

"What is it?" Eleanor asked as she braided her hair in an attempt to make it look halfway decent. She wasn't in the mood to listen to Lipton beat around the bush.

"One of the men saw you leaving the bar with Lieutenant Speirs last night…"

Eleanor stopped messing with her hair and her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought about the previous night. Ah, yes. She hadn't been drunk enough to forget, but in her rush to get back on track for the day, she hadn't thought once this morning about what had happened last night. Or what...hadn't happened? It certainly wasn't anything discussion-worthy.

"Do I need to have a conversation with him?" Lipton asked, pulling her from her thoughts. She realized that he must've taken her hesitance as a bad sign, as his facial expression had changed to something more serious. She was touched by his paternal attitude, but also struck by the absurdity of it all. She scoffed.

"No, you don't need to have any conversations. He saw me home safely; that's all. It's the same thing you would have done."

Lipton eyed her uncertainly for a moment before accepting her explanation with a nod.

"Alright, well, you should know that I'm probably not the only one who got word." He added. Eleanor rolled her eyes, turning to enter the tent.

"You boys have a real gossip problem."

The offensive was called Operation Market Garden. From what Eleanor could retain (it was hard to focus on anything other than her nausea, but she did her best), there would be two branches: the airborne regiments, which would land in Eindhoven first, scope out the territory, take possession of bridges, etc. (they were the "Market"), and infantry regiments who would come in on the ground in armed assaults (they were the "Garden").

"Our job," Winters had assured them "Is to liberate Eindhoven. Infiltrate it and wait for the tanks." Nixon had likewise assured them that they weren't expecting much resistance - Eindhoven, at this point, was supposed to be mostly old men and children.

"You're looking a little green." Johnny Martin murmured next to her as they sat listening to Nixon and watching him highlight important areas on the map. Eleanor gave him a side eye that could strike a man dead, and he tried to stifle his laughter.

"Seriously though, you alright?" He whispered. "Here, use this." He then added with a snort, picking up her helmet from its place at her feet and holding it out in front of her like a bowl. She snatched it out of his hands and elbowed him in the side, the sudden movements causing her stomach to jolt into her throat.

"Price, Martin." Nixon called out, causing all eyes to turn on them. "Got a question?"

Price opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get out a word, her stomach surged again and she was on her feet, flying down the aisle with a hand clamped over her mouth. A chorus of laughter and cheers sounded out as she disappeared through the door and the sound of wretching immediately followed.

Eleanor tightened the strap of the pack on the private standing before her, asking him questions about the fit to make sure that it was tight enough to stay on during the jump, but not tight enough to suffocate him.

The replacements needed a lot of help getting their gear together and it was a welcome distraction for Eleanor - staying busy was helping her recover from her hangover beautifully and the replacements weren't comfortable enough with her to tease her about what had happened earlier.

"Hey bird, you're not going to ruin my shoes if I come over there to talk, are you?" Guarnere called as he approached with Martin and Bull. Eleanor's eyes rolled.

"I'll ruin something, but it won't be your shoes." She replied wryly. Martin snickered and Bull fought a smile.

"Come on, Nora, you know we only tease you because you're one of us, right?" Guarnere insisted. "Bull, your boys can't even put on a pack?" He then jabbed, watching as Eleanor stepped up to the next boy and helped him adjust his straps.

"Or they have the good sense to accept help from a pretty lady." Bull replied around his cigar, before grabbing one of his men and helping out as well.

"Hey, you'll never guess who's here." Martin told Eleanor.

"Winston Churchill." She replied flippantly.

"No. It's your nemesis." He hinted.

"I have a nemesis?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"It's Sobel." Guarnere cut in, clearly tiring of the game. Now both of Eleanor's eyebrows rose.

"Sobel's here?" She repeated, glancing around. "Where?"

"Last I saw him, he was grillin' Malarkey over that motorcycle." Guarnere replied. Eleanor bit the inside of her cheek. Sobel was only the worst possible person to have caught Malarkey with that bike.

"He brought Popeye back with him, too." Bull threw in.

"What?" Eleanor exclaimed. "I wrapped that wound myself, there is no way Popeye has been released for duty."

"I think he's AWOL." Martin supplied. Eleanor's brows furrowed. If Popeye was AWOL, wouldn't Sobel already have him thrown in the stockade or something? She excused herself from the group and headed in the direction the men had come from.

She quickly spotted Popeye, standing surrounded by men who were joking with him and patting him on the back.

"Pop, what're you doing on your feet?" She asked, with a disappointed tilt of her head.

"I feel better, ma'am." He insisted innocently.

"You can't feel that much better." She argued.

"Good enough to jump."

"How did you wind up with Sobel?" She asked, switching gears when she knew she wasn't going to convince him he needed rest.

"He found me on the side of the road. We were headed in the same direction, and he told me to hop in." He explained with a half shrug.

"Hop in?" Eleanor echoed. Was she thinking of the right Sobel?

When she finally found Sobel, he was overseeing some men unloading equipment from a truck. A supply officer. Nobody had mentioned that part to her.

"Sir." She greeted, saluting him. He returned the salute; she thought she spotted a hint of surprise in his expression, though he was clearly trying to cover it.

"Price." He replied. "I see that you're still kicking." He added, though it didn't hold the raw animosity that his insults used to. He seemed almost...uncertain of himself. Perhaps he'd been humbled and had a change of heart?

"Yes, sir." She said, her lips turning up a bit at the corners. "I had good training."

She wasn't sure what moved her to say it, but she was surprised to find that she meant it. As cruel as Sobel was, he really had prepared Easy Company for war. Sobel nodded after a moment, clearly unsure how to respond.

"Yes, well, don't you have someone to report to?" He reminded her after a moment, effectively dismissing her. Eleanor held back the eyeroll that threatened to show itself and nodded, leaving the man to his thoughts.

Eleanor was relieved that there was no immediate danger when they landed outside Eindhoven, because the replacements were a bit of a mess. She couldn't blame them - she still wasn't the most graceful at landing on her feet and gathering her chute - but some of them looked like they'd never even practiced it before. Once she got herself situated, she followed Bull's lead and rushed around helping the others.

Once they were all in formation, they moved according to the maps Nixon had gone over with them - moving swiftly and silently through ditches and across fields. They hadn't landed too far outside of Eindhoven, so it didn't take long before they were crouching outside of its limits, guns drawn. For a few long, tense moments, they could do nothing but sit there and pray they wouldn't have to fire, and then finally, slowly, the windows of the town began to open. First, orange flags appeared in the windows. Then, the cheering began.

It was strange for everyone to be so excited to see them. Though she was trying not to, Nora couldn't help but feel a little bit paranoid in the face of their enthusiasm. The cobblestone streets were flooded with people, so it didn't help that bodies were crowding into her space from every side. She'd made it a point to find Winters and Nixon and they stayed close, clearly sensing her discomfort. She subtly shrank away from anyone who bumped into her. Nixon raised an eyebrow at her.

"You okay?"

"Just don't want to get kissed." She replied over the noise of the celebration, earning a smile from both men. She'd seen a number of her fellow soldiers grabbed and kissed by the jubilant women.

"Don't worry. There's a line for that, and I don't think the Easy boys are gonna let the dutch cut in front of them."

"Very funny." Eleanor retorted.

"Just stay close." Winters told her. She nodded - she didn't need to be told twice. Eleanor gasped as someone pushed past her, knocking her into Nixon, who grabbed her by the elbows to steady her. She turned to see that she'd been knocked aside by a couple of men who were struggling to drag a woman in a pink dress through the crowd. Nora and the men drew forward and followed naturally, until they came to a circle in the middle of the crowd. The men shoved the woman into the middle of the courtyard and torn her dress so that her slip was showing. The woman began to sob.

"What are they doing?" Eleanor asked aloud, panic rising in her voice. Winters gently took hold of one of her arms, partially to comfort her, and partially because he expected that she might surge forward and get involved.

When nobody answered her, Eleanor turned to look at them, searching Winters and Nixon's solemn expressions. She turned back to the spectacle and her stomach lurched. They were shaving the woman's head. There were a number of women being humiliated, some of them with swastikas drawn on their heads in ash.

"We have to stop it." She said to no one in particular. "What are their crimes?"

"They slept with the Germans." a new voice answered. Nora whipped around to see that a dutch man in a sport coat had joined their conversation. "They're lucky. The men who collaborated are being shot."

"I don't care what they did -" Nora began, her tone clipped, but Winters squeezed her arm, pulling her away as she tried to step closer to the man.

"Nora," He murmured, leaning closer to her so that she could hear him over the noise. "Nora, don't."

Eleanor yanked out of his grip and crossed her arms but said nothing. Winters and Nixon turned to continue speaking to the man, who introduced himself as a member of the dutch resistance. Eleanor tuned the conversation out, turning to look back at the spectacle once more - she didn't want to, but she forced herself to watch anyway, as if the act of acknowledging the wrongdoing in action could somehow help. As they dragged in a new woman to degrade, they shoved another out of the circle, leaving her to her misery.

Eleanor watched one of the released women tear through the crowd in tears as people mocked and jeered at her now-bald head. She stood for a few moments, biting her lip, before following after the woman, elbowing anyone who got in her way. Struggling to keep an eye on the woman's white slip as she surged through the crowd, she finally managed to track her to an alleyway. The woman sat curled against a stone wall, sobbing with her face buried in her knees. Her slip was torn and smudged with dirt and her head still held a few random patches of hair and blood from the hack-job haircut she'd received.

Eleanor approached quietly and slowly kneeled in front of the woman. When her boot made a scuffing noise against the cobblestone, the girl's head flew up and she pushed herself farther into the wall, away from her. Eleanor held up a calming hand and pulled off her helmet. The girl seemed to relax upon realizing that she'd been approached by a woman, not a man. She looked a few years younger than Eleanor. Barely a woman, even.

"Do you speak English?" Eleanor asked. The girl nodded but said nothing. Her tear-stained face was dirty and she had that telltale swastika on her forehead. "May I?" Eleanor asked softly, gesturing to the space beside her. When she didn't get a response, she shifted to sit next to the girl.

"What's your name?" She asked. "My name's Eleanor."

There was a long silence and the notes of a drinking song the crowd nearby had begun singing drifted through the alley.

"Mila." The girl responded after a while.

Eleanor pulled out her canteen and a small piece of gauze, dabbing it with water. The girl flinched but didn't pull away as Eleanor slowly began to wipe away the ashes on her forehead. Eleanor didn't know what to say - didn't think there was anything she could say. Even if she could think of something comforting, it would only be patronizing coming from her. Because no matter how much she wanted to fix this, to help this girl, she knew she only had this one interaction before she moved on and left the girl to her misery. So she would do what she did best - what she was trained to do. She would clean away the dirt, bind up her cuts and scrapes, and then move on to the next one.