A/N: Hello everyone. Thanks for reading, reviewing and adding this story to your favourites. I'm really happy that you like my writing and I hope I won't disappoint you :) Sorry for the rather short chapter, but it was the only reasonable point to stop...
There was one silver lining to Sobel's harsh, borderline cruel, sometimes downright sadistic training methods. It gave the men and women common ground and the two groups, initially separate, began to merge. They commiserated, offered each other tips and started warming up to the idea of being in combat together.
It was also in some way thanks to Sobel that they realised that this whole "women don't belong here"-nonsense was ridiculous. He had been in a particularly bad mood that day and had let them feel it. Several members of Easy ended up running Currahee in full pack as punishment for reasons none of them were entirely too sure of.
.
"What a nice day for a run", Jessica mentioned to Maxine, who snorted at her friend's dry humour.
"Don't make me laugh", Elizabeth puffed. "We're not all like Irene. Or Arricante"
Unable to contain his curiosity, Don Hoobler blurted out: "Irene? Arricante?"
Maxine startled, as if she had forgotten there were 4 men running behind them. There was a long beat of silence, the women assessing the men, trying to gauge the intentions behind the curious, inquisitive expression.
Eventually, Elizabeth answered: "Irene McKinsey and Mia Arricante. Out of us women, they're the best runners."
She had to break off to maintain her breathing rhythm and Maxine took over. "Irene is an athlete, she played lots of sports in school", she explained between breaths. "She ran Currahee in under 50 minutes on her first day."
"Ah", Bill Guarnere uttered. He vividly remembered how it had pissed him off that some dame was faster than all of them and that just after being injured. It hadn't helped that Sobel had continually taunted them with the fact that a girl could outrun them.
.
"And Mia?", Grant probed. From what he had seen and from the few times he'd had a chance to interact with her, the young woman was quiet, but always friendly and ready to help.
Jessica responded: "Fastest sprinter. I think she does it all through sheer stubbornness, though." Her tone had turned dry again towards the end.
"She's odd", Elizabeth offered after a few paces. They were almost at the top now.
Forrest Guth turned his head towards her, a puzzled look on his face. "What makes you say that?", he wondered.
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "Oh please. She's as chatty as a fish and blander than a piece of paper."
The conversation took off, bridging the gap that had inadvertently forced both parties into a state of self-imposed isolation. None of them thought about the subject of their conversation as the women shared gossip and rumours about one of their own, everyone – some more than others – weighing in with their own experiences.
With the ice finally fully broken, the women were invited into the men's conversations and started sitting among them. Instead of sneers and glares or blank stares, they were met with smiles and companionable greetings in the mornings. Soon enough, the men's camaraderie was extended to the women, who started to integrate themselves in the unit, which grew stronger as the resentment and prejudice began to fade.
That didn't stop Sobel from being even more harsh and cruel to the women than he was to the men. He didn't bother hiding his disdain for them and he made no secret of what he thought of them. They found themselves saddled with KP duty more often than not and always with the comment "It's a more…appropriate assignment anyways."
Luckily, Colonel Sink caught wind of that and Sobel was grudgingly forced to accept that the women would not be reduced to kitchen aides and secretaries. Not that he didn't put them down every opportunity he got, having even more unreasonable expectations towards them than towards the rest of the company.
Lieutenants Winters and Nixon, two of their platoon leaders, were the complete opposite.
Winters was calm, polite and fair. He had made a point to speak to each of the women as soon as he had met them, reassuring them that if there ever was an incident with one of the men, he would listen to the women and let them tell their side of the story.
Nixon was wry, blunt and didn't care too much about what people thought of him. He had an air of dispassion, almost arrogance, about him, but he always treated the women with respect. He had a great sense of humour and was very easy-going.
Three months in, there were only 24 women left, spread out over 3 companies.
Mary Jenkins and Doreen Edwards dropped out on their own volition, Susan Brown hadn't met Sobel's standards and was sent packing.
Martha Osborne requested a transfer to the WAC, having discovered her passion for nursing and believing that she would be of more use there.
Christine Richardson left to be with her family after her younger brother and her uncle perished in a dreadful accident.
And Sarah Jane Collins was kicked out after she had been caught fraternising with a private from Dog Company.
Even though the animosity towards the women had dissipated and the company was no longer divided along the lines of its members' sex, there were still a few bumps in the road. The women still had to prove that they were just as capable and skilled as the men.
Louise Fields was one of the best shooters in the company and she knew it. She didn't take anybody's bullshit and never hesitated to stand up for herself, even to the brashest and rowdiest of the men. That earned her quite some respect, but some were still trying to get her to fail.
Easy Company would later laugh about it when they remembered this particularly memorable incident, but right then, most of the men were both awed and terrified while the women watched in amusement and no small amount of satisfaction.
.
That day, after spending almost the entire afternoon at the shooting range for her sniper aptitude evaluation, Louise came storming into the women's billet, her expression contorted with fury.
"That fucking arsehole thinks he can pull a fast one on me!", she snarled, flinging her jacket against the wall over her bunk. It landed in a heap on the floor. As always when she was angry, her British accent became more pronounced. "How stupid does he think I am?!"
The billet emptied as she continued to rant, everybody deciding that now would be a good time to get to the mess hall, dinner would be soon anyways. In the end, only one person stayed behind, listening quietly to Louise's tirade about how the guy next to her had tried his best to make her miss her shots.
"D'you know what?", Louise eventually asked when she felt herself calming a little. "I expected better of them. I never would have thought grown men capable of such kindergarten pettiness."
Mia smiled sadly, getting to her feet. "I know", she offered, picking up the jacket that was still on the floor. She dusted it off and handed it to the taller woman. "They'll come around. Maybe they're just intimidated by your skill. And your spine."
A scoff worked its way up Louise's throat, but before it could leave her mouth, it turned into a heavy sigh. "Come on", she said, "wouldn't want to miss dinner."
Mia chuckled and they left the barracks together, strolling over to the mess hall.
.
Louise's bad mood didn't go unnoticed and she was mostly left alone as she poked her food with a bit more force than strictly necessary.
"What's up with her?"
Her head jerked up, flinty eyes boring into the speaker. Liebgott. He was wearing his usual smirk and eyeing her with an amused sort of expression.
"Mind your own bloody business", she snapped.
He grinned and asked in mock-concern: "What? Did you fail your eval?"
Louise's features darkened into a scowl. "No, I did not", she replied, "but the bastard next to me tried to set me up to fail." She speared a piece of meat with her fork. "That weaselly guy from Fox Company."
"Jesus Christ", Liebgott muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "just what we need. A broad blaming a guy for her mistakes."
.
Luckily, Helen and Kathleen were fast enough to hold her back, otherwise Louise would have socked Liebgott right across the face.
"I didn't make a mistake, you bastard", she spat. "I hit all marks even though he jostled me, flicked pebbles at me and tried to mess with the sights on my rifle! So stow your condescending shit and leave me alone!"
After a long moment of deafening silence where everybody was holding their breath, conversations were picked up again when it was determined that no fight was imminent.
It wasn't the first time Louise and Liebgott had butted heads, the latter frequently teasing the former about her British accent. Though usually, the woman simply fired back by pointing out that the last name Liebgott was of course as blue-bloodedly American as it gets.
After avoiding each other for the rest of the day, the two of them had the misfortune of ending up on guard duty together. They hardly spared each other more than an annoyed and unhappy glance and continued ignoring each other. Around them, darkness descended and the camp became quiet.
Eventually though, Liebgott couldn't stand it any longer. Standing guard was boring enough as it was; this was downright unbearable. So, he decided to extend an olive branch by asking: "So… they gonna make you a sniper now?"
Louise turned to look at him, unlit cigarette dangling between her lips. Even in the dark, he could see the surprise colouring her features. "I don't know", she shrugged. Her tone was guarded but neutral, a vast improvement from its earlier acidity. "They might."
He nodded and for a moment, their conversation petered out again.
.
It was rekindled when Liebgott patted down the pockets of his uniform in search of a smoke. "Here", Louise said, offering one from her pack.
He took it and after lighting it, gave her a small smile. "Thanks."
"Consider it an apology", the British woman spoke with a smile of her own. "I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you."
Liebgott shrugged and allowed: "Well, I was riling you up, so I guess I had it coming."
She laughed. "Indeed."