Disclaimer: Be advised. From this chapter on, it is a whole new story I wrote. I refined almost every bit of it so I hope you'd all like it. Hate it? Well, thank you for telling… :)

CHAPTER 2 "On the Ground"

January 1942

Ellsworth, Kansas

Knock, knock. The door of Gretchen's house didn't sound as hollow as it was before. It seemed to have been replaced; the same style, but different wood. It also smelled a little musky, probably a week ago after they gave it a new paint job. This morning was unbelievably hot. I was glad that her house had a shade; an apple tree by her lawn.

Knock, knock. Still no answer.

"Hi. How's it going? Look, I can… no that's not right."

I cleared my voice.

"Uh…Gretchen…I'm just here to say… no, that's even worse."

"Hey…Gretchen…do you want me to give you a walk you to the…damn…"

Trying to think up an explanation was hard. I was dressed up in an enlisted man's uniform, carrying a bag filled with all the memories I have here in Kansas. I was signing up for the Army, and the clothes I wore were a common sight in the neighbourhood. Many of the young men here, friends and strangers alike, were dressed like me; each one had given his goodbye to everyone close to his heart. All of us were going to the train station to be picked up by those Army folks. Chris and George already left 2 days ago. And I was going to catch up with them. I just stopped by Gretchen's place to say anything worth remembering for her sake. But that would be hard. Today might be the last time she'll see me. Better make it worthwhile…

The door opened. Gretchen stood there, clad in her bank teller uniform.

"Robert…" She spoke.

She sounded as if she didn't know I would be wearing this today.

"Hi…" After all that thinking, this was the only one I could say. I forgot about the words I was going to say to her. My throat closed; all the breath refused to come out.

"Hey…I was…I" I continued.

"So…you're going too? I thought…" I knew she was hurt at that moment.

No use explaining now.

"That's why I'm here for."

Her hazel eyes began to flood with tears. I told her last week that I'll be thinking about not to join and stay home; don't give a shit about the others going to sign up for the Armed Forces or the Corps. The problem with me is that I don't try that hard. Much of us were fuelled by enthusiasm; that what we do will make our families proud of us. I said to Gretchen this Wednesday that I was going to say something very important, but Mrs. Bailey wanted her to stay overtime at the bank downtown. I wanted to say that I made up my mind.

One of my talents: the knack to disappoint anybody.

She turned away, clearing off the 'irritation' in her eyes.

"I'm sorry…" I replied.

"Sorry for what? This?" She began to cry, covering her mouth. I did not dare touch her. I felt ashamed. All her hopes about me staying this Christmas with her were all gone. Ever since her father died…

"I just... felt that I had to do something." That was a lame response coming from me. It was an answer she wasn't looking for. In truth, even I don't know why I was joining. Perhaps it was a man's weakness: the capability to show off his pride arrogantly. My grandfathers all joined the Army before. I was proud to say that I'm continuing that line. But for Gretchen, that meant nothing more than a wasteful macho-trip.

Gretchen calmed down. Still she refused to open her eyes.

"I hope you'd understand…"

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

"My brother Gary…dead in Pearl Harbour. My father dead in the Philippines. Now…who's next? You?"

"…"

"Why don't you wake up Robert?"

"I did wake up!" My voice was roared. I don't know how I did it, even though it was obvious that I was the one wrong in this picture. Shouting was a bad move. A really BAD move… Gretchen went silent, turned away as if she doesn't want to look at me; pained at my sudden reaction.

"I'm sorry…But for once let me do something right in my life." I pleaded.

"So this is what you came for?"

"I-"

"Mom was right. I should have seen this coming. I thought you're different." She walked past me, pulling out an umbrella shielding her from the morning sun. I could've walked her to the station, that's where I'm heading anyway. But for her to see those military men hauling the rest of us might pain her. I sighed, knowing that my words didn't go right. She never wanted me to leave.

She turned around, sadness still in her face and replied, "You want to do something right? Then don't waste your life for the both of us!"

I never saw her angry. Yeah, what a day for her to remember me. Likewise, what a day for me to remember her.

"Wake up! You want to do something right? Then don't waste your life for the both of us!"

Her words continued to echo in my head, even as I walked into the train with people whom she referred to have shattered their lives. But why? Why would I be wasting my life just because I want to sign up and make my country proud?

That remained a question as I joined up and trained with the various people I met. I got transferred from the Infantry to the Airborne. But those words…it was a question I wish I could find an answer here…in France. Am I doing something wrong?

0020 Hours, Outskirts of Foucarville, Normandy; France

June 6, 1944; D-Day

My nose hurts…

The jump was truly some kind of ride. My head is shaken. I opened my eyes, and the world was a blur. What I saw was the dark ground below me, thanks to the shadows cast by the night. I slid into focus and looked around. I was still strapped in my gear; dangling up in a tree I bumped into earlier. The noises suddenly returned, as if my mind muted them because of the happenings and adrenaline earlier. Back to reality. The explosions and gunfire seemed endless. No time to rest now.

I unsheathed my knife and cut myself loose. Now it's all in my instincts. I landed hard. I just realized that my nose was bleeding. I assessed the area; I just landed near the backyard of some French farmhouse. The windows were all closed. Everything inside was piercingly silent. But that was it. Aside from the architecture of the house, nothing else was worth mentioning.

The ground fire was still intense as the sirens from afar still echoed throughout the dark night. Tracers still glitter the sky. Planes and parachutes alike are everywhere, with explosions still rocking the clouds above.

"Yup…welcome to Normandy, Robert." I said to myself.

On the ground I was all alone. The Captain was right. Everything might not go smoothly. The only things I had in hand to insure my survival was my rifle and my clicker. I strode forward, keeping a low detail as I hopped over the fences, hoping to find somebody wearing the same damn clothes as I am. Or maybe somebody who'll respond to my clicker.

Suddenly, there was shooting. Right here, on the ground, some few metres away. I vanished into the trees avoiding the lights coming from oil lamps; hopefully away from the Germans as well.

Then I continued, still keeping a sharp eye out. Silence was my ally for now. The noise of the fire fights shrouded my every step as I strode on for a few minutes. The trees seemed formed and eternal forest.

Suddenly, there came a rustling in the bushes. It frightened me, my hands shaken as I gripped harder on my rifle. It was so dark that I couldn't see who it was. I aimed towards the noise. The leaves were moving and it was 5 feet away from my right.

Then I saw a figure. A man. He saw me too. A semi-silhouette of a guy holding a rifle. Couldn't tell if he's a kraut or a yank like me. I kept pinching my clicker. No response.

Then there came that split second tension. Pull the trigger or don't? By then, I was about to take the first one.

"Thunder!"

It came from him. It was a call name, a way of assessing if you're Airborne or not. I sighed. Finally, Americans.

"Flash!" I shouted.

He came forward, along with 3 others, running. I stood up. The darkness in his face lightened as he came closer. Yet I wasn't familiar with this guy. Somebody from another a unit. Along with his 3 buddies. He looked like a Lieutenant. Nevertheless, I'm damn happy that I wasn't alone after all.

"You OK, soldier?" He was pertaining about my nose bleeding.

"Yes sir." I answered.

"Good. Care to tag along?"

We ran out of the trees. Then we came across an open field with a few houses; parachutes and some bags littering the farmland. The stone fence from afar was piled with boxes; military supplies from the Germans.

We heard gunfire, not far away. Jumping over the fences, we came across one of the houses. Instead of breaking in, we ran by the wall until we stumbled upon a few Americans; engaged in a battle as bullets zipped past their heads. And, a familiar face…They were all lying prone by a small rise. It was damn good to see more of them.

"Care to join us?"

It was Captain Collin's voice; leading a mixed entourage of paratroopers. The others kept firing. We approached him as we all kept our heads down; covered by the rise. The Lieutenant dared to greet first.

"Lieutenant Speyer, sir. Dog Company, 101st."

"Captain Collins, A Company. Pleased to meet you." Then he noticed me.

"Turner? Glad you could join us. What the hell happen to your nose?"

"Slammed my face in a tree, sir. But I'm fine."

"One of yours, Captain?"

Captain Collins ordered the rest, "Keep up the fire!"

Firing his Tommy, he sprayed a few rounds. Whoever they were firing upon, they were certainly shooting back real hard. I peeked out. They're inside a nearby farmhouse 10 metres away north past our cover. Shrubs are the only things keeping us covered in the rise. An MG-42 up the second floor; the metallic rattling was familiar since it was introduced to us in Toccoa. But soon, the endless stream of bullets stopped.

"Heh. I think the bastards overheated it!"

The Captain shouted out, "Johnson, Owens, suppressing fire! The rest of you follow me! Move up and secure that house!"

Captain Collins ran forward first, two guys beside him, me and the rest just bringing up the rear. Following his lead was the best thing to do now. They were all shooting wildly at us. The Germans stopped firing, the barrel of the machine gun too hot to hand; instead they relied on their rifles. But they were forced to keep their heads down as our own supporting fire crossed their shots at their location. Soon we were already past the krauts' line of fire. Sticking by the wall the Captain threw a grenade up, bouncing inside the second floor window.

"Everybody stay down! Grenade!"

Screams from above. And then BOOM. One of us went inside first. Captain Collins followed him. I stayed behind by the door with the rest. A few seconds later, the two emerged out of the house.

"All clear! Let's go!"

…

That gave me the shock. Go, where?

"Sir?" I asked out.

"Come on! We got a job to do!"

I found myself idle. Was the Captain serious? With just a handful of guys? We don't even know where we are. Well, I don't even know who had the goddamn maps with him today.

The Lieutenant tapped me and said, "Come on, Private, let's go!"

"But go where?"

Truly you don't get this much action, confusion. Everything was way out of plan. What a way to start the Big One. Able Company was just down to me and Captain Collins for now. But what the hell? Everything is a mess. Misdrops are everywhere. And we were just 11 men.

"Hey, did you hear me?"

"Uh…yeah."

The Lieutenant smirked, "You can't take the heat?"

"Well…"

"Don't tell me you're a wuss kid. Come on! Let's go!"

I ran with them, amidst all the gunfire around us. I sighed; but this was just taste of my first action.

-TO BE CONTINUED-