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At the end of May, the Battalion packed up their nine months in Aldbourne and left the village. It was sad to see the back of Aldbourne. Despite the rain, the cold, the warm beer and questionable food, the men would miss their English home away from home. But the time had come for the American Paratroopers to jump into combat. For a lot of men, it was their first time jumping into combat. Some had seen the Pacific and knew what to expect – they knew what it was like to be shot at and have the enemy want to kill them but for most of the men, they didn't know what that felt like.
Twenty miles west of Southampton, the 506th moved to Upottery on an airfield. Thousands upon thousands of tents were set up on wet and muddy grass – some tents were larger than others. The aeroplane hangars dominated the camp, they stood large and bold behind the camping grounds. And surrounding their base, was barbed wired fences to keep the men in and others out. But it was so out in the middle of nowhere, no civilian would find the area. Armed guards surrounded the entire place, preventing anyone from running away. The only possible way to get out of the jump was by illness or injury. Nelly didn't know anyone who was that desperate to leave.
"Mampre can't make the jump". Malarkey informed Nelly.
She frowned. "What?"
He gestured toward his neck. "He's got this...infection or lump or something on his neck".
With a sigh, Nelly set her bag down on a camp bed. "So...we get a new medic?"
"Yeah". Malarkey replied. "We've got some guy from this south – Eugene Roe".
It was a little disappointing that their medic wouldn't be making the jump. But Nelly put her disappointment to the back of her mind. And asked Malarkey, "Are you...taking Winters's advice?"
Malarkey snorted and shrugged. "To become more assertive? Listen, I can't bark out orders". He said, "You know me, Nelly. I don't mind being a Private".
"But...you would make a good Sergeant". Nelly pointed out. "You are...sensible and level-headed".
"I am?" Malarkey snorted again. He said, "Besides, it's too late now. We're jumping".
"I don't think it's too late". Nelly argued softly. "I think...it's a great time to show everyone what you're capable of".
Turning to face her, Malarkey pointed at Nelly. "Not a Sergeant".
Her lips twitched. "We'll see".
After spending so many months in a village, it was an odd feeling to be confined to one area again. Still, they had some entertainment. They had a bar, a few theatre walls and a place to buy candy and soda. They also had the best food they'd ever eaten. Cooks were serving up some of the nicest meals – steak, mashed potatoes, white bread and butter. And they had ice cream – more ice cream than any kid could ever dream of.
"Me and Bernice are back on". Malarkey informed Nelly as they left their tent. "I'm surprised she took me back".
"Do you love her?" Nelly asked.
"Yeah". He replied quietly. "Well – I don't know...". He said, "I did...I loved her a lot. But it sort of changed when I joined the army". Malarkey said, "Maybe it's 'cause I don't hear from her enough or something. I mean, she doesn't write a lot".
"Donnie". Nelly took hold of his arm. "I'm sorry".
A small smile met his face. "Thanks, Nelly. I – "
"but stop it". She said, "Bernice won't save you out there. Stop thinking about her, please".
After a moment, Malarkey soon huffed out a laugh. "Guess I should listen to the expert, huh?"
Letting go of his arm, Nelly gave the side of her head a rub with a frown.
"What?" Malarkey frowned at her expression.
"Hairs too tight". She mumbled, "Hurts my head".
"Do you want a haircut?"
Nelly sighed and nodded. Despite how happy she felt about her hair growing back, she knew it would be best to keep it short for combat. "Liebgott?"
"Let's find him".
They found the former barber outside a hanger, cutting and shaving hair. Men opted for a mohawk. Nelly thought the mohawk looked cool. Standing in line for a cheap haircut from a member of her squad, Nelly mentioned to Malarkey. "Mohawks look cool".
"Oh, God...Nelly". Malarkey groaned. "Please, don't get a mohawk".
"Why?"
"It's – uh – I'm not getting into that". Malarkey decided. And said, "Just think real hard about it, okay?"
When it was Nelly's turn, she sat on the stool and Liebgott almost refused to cut her hair. "You just got it back!" He exclaimed.
"It hurts my head". Nelly said, "Please, cut it".
"Fine". He reluctantly agreed. "What do 'ya want?"
A tiny smile met her lips. "A mohawk".
"No – fuck that, Nelly". He grumbled. "I'll do 'ya better – side parted, undercut". He said, "We'll keep some of the length at the top and buzz under".
With a nod, Nelly took the tie out of her hair. "Okay". She said, "But I wanted that mohawk...".
"Tell 'ya what". Liebgott smiled, "Next time, I'll give 'ya one".
"Deal".
Powering up his razor, Liebgott looked at Malarkey for a moment. "Are you next?"
"Yeah". Malarkey replied. "Keep it regular, Sonny".
"You've got it, bud". But as Liebgott went to start cutting her hair, he realised Nelly was too short on the stool. He sighed. "She's too damn short".
Malarkey almost laughed. "Ah – well...how about we get her something to sit on?"
"Fuck it – I'll kneel". Liebgott grumbled.
"Wait". Nelly said and raised her hand, "I need a towel...I don't want hair all over me...".
Liebgott's eyebrow raised. "You see any towels, princess? The fellas didn't get a towel".
"Fine". She mumbled and lowered her hand. "You can...continue".
Malarkey laughed.
"Thank you very much". Liebgott remarked sarcastically.
Kneeling on the ground, Liebgott cut off one of her curls. With a tiny frown, he placed it over Nelly's shoulder. She frowned and took the curl off her shoulder.
"Are you 'gonna keep it?" Liebgott's voice softened.
"No". Nelly mumbled and let go of her curl.
"Your hair is still 'gonna look curly". He said, "And it'll grow back".
"I know".
Liebgott sighed. "I feel like an asshole cutting your hair, Murray".
Very quietly, Nelly said, "You're a lot...nicer than the last person who cut my hair...".
After sitting still for ten minutes, Nelly began to shift on the stool – just as Liebgott had the razor by her ear. He let out an annoyed sigh and moved the razor away. "Comfy yet?"
"Sorry". Nelly mumbled and stilled once more.
Carefully setting the razor by her ear again, Liebgott assured her quietly, "Almost done".
Her lap and shoulders were covered in curls and shaved hair. Nelly didn't regret the haircut, but she didn't expect to feel so sad. Liebgott set a hand on her head and gently bowed it, so he could shave the back. "Donnie?" She called out to her friend.
Stepping in front of Nelly, Malarkey crouched down. "Yeah?"
"Do I look...like a creep again?" She whispered.
"You never did". Malarkey said to her kindly.
A tiny smile met her lips. "Okay".
He gave her knee a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah...I'm fine". She said, "Liebgott is...very good".
And Liebgott smiled. "Thanks, Nelly".
...
It was France. More specifically, Normandy.
Nelly had heard of Paris and Reims but not Normandy. She figured it was the easiest place to invade because of the beaches close by – easy access for the boats carrying tens of thousands of soldiers. And easy for the Paratroopers, who simply had to cross the English Channel from the sky. Every tiny piece of information the British and American intelligence officers could find was laid out inside the plane hangars. Sand tables, maps and recon photos. They had marked down every enemy gunpoint, hedgerow, village, town and river. And all the Paratroopers had to do now was, memorise every last detail. Nelly couldn't write very well but she could draw a tiny map in her notebook.
They were to fly over the English Channel and across the Cherbourg Peninsula. Specially trained teams of parachutists and pathfinders would arrive one hour ahead of the Airborne. Their job was to set up special lights and radar sets to guide the Airborne in. Then, in the early morning darkness, the Airborne would drop about five miles inland from the Normandy beaches and make their way west toward Utah beach. 2nd Battalion's rally point was a little hamlet called Le Grand Chemin; they were to get there by 0700 hours.
They learned the Germans had flooded the low-lying ground just inland from the beach, which would force troops from the Channel to only use four causeways. The Airborne's job was to capture those causeways and get control of those exits so the German's supplies couldn't get to their troops near the beach so the allied soldiers could get inland quickly. That meant the Paratroopers would need to destroy those big guns they knew the Germans would be hammering at the beach.
It was all fairly simple. The men followed the briefing by studying those maps, sand tables and photos. Their next task was to mentally prepare themselves for combat. Having already experienced something similar, Nelly was probably the most nervous because she knew what jumping into an occupied country was like. That's where her nerves sat. And for the men, they were nervous about what was to come because they didn't know – not really. However, as much as they didn't truly know, they were very much prepared. Through training, they'd discussed how to attack gun positions, bridges and causeways. They'd gone over equipment from gasmasks to knives, from guns to Mae West life jackets should they end up landing in the water. They knew how to dig foxholes and take out enemy artillery. They knew the flash-thunder password, when they hit the ground in the night or their back-up, a dime-store metal cricket. They knew if a German police dog started sniffing the barrels of their rifles, they had to shoot that dog pronto. And they knew how to take care of themselves in the field. So, the men were prepared. And what's more, they were ready.
While her friends went off to grab something to eat, Nelly remained inside the hanger and she continued drawing out her "mini" map. Because she couldn't read or write well, she had to draw out everything, in a way so Nelly could understand. Dropping her pencil for a moment, she gave her drawing hand a rub when it started to ache. And then she rubbed at her eyes, which were heavy and tired. Footsteps sounded behind her, followed by a voice.
"You're still here?"
Turning around, Nelly gave Nixon a faint nod.
The man grinned. "What the hell are you doing anyway?"
"Drawing...sir".
Nixon snorted. "Jesus – time and place for that, Private".
"The map, sir". Nelly explained quietly.
"Why? Your Sergeant will have a map".
"I want my own one, sir". Nelly said, "And I...I can't read maps well".
Nixon gave her a nod. "Alright – well, just do what you've 'gotta do, I guess". He asked, "Is that what you did before Holland?"
Nelly shook her head. "No...we weren't allowed, sir".
With another smile, Nixon said, "Your cousin was impressed by all this...". He gave a nod toward the sand tables, photos and maps.
"It's...really good, sir".
Nixon hummed and joked, "I'd make a good agent, huh?"
"You would, sir". Nelly said, "But...I wouldn't recommend it".
"What do you think about the whole thing anyway?" Nixon asked.
Nelly frowned softly. "Me?"
He nodded. "Yeah. What do you think?"
"Big". She replied quietly.
"Yup – it's a huge invasion". Nixon agreed.
"Surprising". Nelly added, "Germans always...thought Calais. Not Normandy". She said, "Smart. I don't think the Germans will expect a June attack – the Italy invasion is still on. And we have the French resistance fighters...they'll help too". She nodded. "Yeah – it's good".
Nixon sent her a smile. "How did you know about Calais?"
"They've been saying that since '42, sir". She said, "And I was around the Germans then". Nelly then added, "They'll see us coming. We are...a big target".
"Yeah, we can't drop in unannounced". Nixon joked lightly.
After drawing out her map, Nelly left the hangar. Stretching her arms above her head, she let out a yawn and cleared the area to allow a group of troopers into the hangar.
"Nelly!" Hand in the air, Punchy beckoned her over.
And Nelly followed his gesture and stood in front of her Platoon Sergeant. "Sarge?"
He set a hand on her shoulder and began leading her away from the hangars. "You haven't signed your life insurance policy, bub". Punchy said to her lowly. "Do you 'wanna do that now?"
Nelly cleared her throat. "I...I don't have...parents, Sarge".
"What about your family in Boston?"
"Yeah". She nodded. "Okay".
"Come on, let's get it done".
Punchy led her inside a large tent, where Sergeant Evans was busy folding up and stamping a bunch of envelopes. Nelly frowned at her boots – she didn't like Evans very much. But since they lost Sobel, Evans had warmed up slightly toward the men.
"I'll leave you with Sergeant Evans, bub". Punchy said, "Get some supper after, please".
"Yes, Sarge".
Bringing out a document and pen, Evans pushed it toward Nelly. "Name, address. That's all we need from you, Murray".
Cursing mentally, Nelly looked over her shoulder but Punchy was long gone. Pulling the chair out from under the desk, she sat down, and Evans appeared confused.
"This shouldn't take long...I don't think sitting is required". He said.
Very quietly, Nelly told him, "I can't...write well, Sergeant".
"I see". Evans mumbled. "In that case – I'll write it and you sign your name at the bottom".
"Thanks". She said softly.
"Where is it going?"
"Ninety-eight, Bigelow Street, Brighton. Boston".
"To?"
"Martha Agnes Speirs and Robert Speirs".
After writing that down, Evans handed her the pen. "Sign your name on that dotted line". And while she signed her name, he asked, "Lieutenant Speirs from D Company's parents?"
"He's my cousin". Nelly replied. Setting the pen down, Nelly rose to her feet.
"Private". Evans said to her.
Nelly looked at him. "Yeah?"
"Captain Sobel was right about you".
She frowned softly and expected an insult.
Evans almost smiled. "You're pretty smart...for a kid".
Licking her lips, Nelly nodded slowly. "Well...he's pretty smart for an idiot, Sergeant".
With a tiny hum of amusement, Evans nodded toward the tent flaps. "Get out".