Hey guys! Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter, I'm so happy that you liked it. I hope you enjoy this one just as much, though I apologise already for the rather abrupt ending. There just wasn't a better place to separate this chapter from the next...

Anyways, enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think :)

The train took them to New York where the rumours were confirmed. Easy Company was going to Europe. At the Brooklyn Naval Shipyard, they boarded a troop ship, the S.S. Samaria – along with about 5000 other soldiers.

It took an entire day, but eventually, the ship was loaded and left port in the evening. The setting sun broke into rough angles and sharp lines on the skyline of the city, dipping everything into a glow of oranges and reds.

"It's beautiful", Irene spoke in a soft whisper, as if any loud noise would destroy the magic of the natural spectacle.

Ana María, who stood right at the railing, gave a low hum of agreement.

.

Slowly, they travelled past Liberty Island. A strange hush fell over the people on deck as the Statue of Liberty came into view, standing lone and proud in the bay, almost like a reminder of what they were setting off to fight for. Everyone knew that for many of them, this would be the last they would ever see of this country.

Nobody spoke. Thoughts travelled to family, friends and loved ones that were staying behind or to the future that was filled with danger and uncertainty.

While the officers had the privilege of being assigned cabins, the enlisted were all billeted in the huge belly of the ship. Rows and rows of bunks, two deep and at least five or six of them on top of each other, with only narrow passages between them. Still, there weren't enough bunks for the thousands of soldiers, meaning almost everyone had to double up. Many decided to take turns sleeping, others preferred just sleeping on the floor or in the hallways.

Easy had automatically arranged itself so that the women's bunks were right in the middle of the company's allocated space.

"I'm not sleeping on any bunk higher than this one!", Helen declared with unrelenting finality, pointing at the bunk level with her head.

Jessica laughed and poking her head out from where she was lying on the fourth bunk from the bottom chirped down with feigned innocence: "Why not? The view is pretty neat up here."

"You know why!", the Arizonan shot back indignantly.

Elizabeth chuckled, but took pity on her friend. "C'mon", she offered, patting her cot. "You can share with me."

Helen nodded and smiled her thanks.

Catherine swiped some hair out of her face and blew out a breath. "Alright ladies, does everyone have a bunk?", she asked.

"Yeah, Mom!", half a dozen voices chorused with varying levels of amusement and annoyance in their tone.

.

Kathleen didn't bother suppressing a soft groan she stumbled against the railing, the unpredictable rocking motion of the waves still catching her off-guard. She hadn't found her sea legs yet since it was her first time on any type of ship. Her stomach lurched upwards and some muscles in her chest seized. She retched, one hand tightly gripping the cool metal railing while the other tried to hold her hair out of her face.

A pair of hands appeared out of nowhere, rubbing her back and helping her keep her hair back as she threw up, the bile burning in her throat.

"Not used to ships, huh?", she heard Frances' friendly voice.

Her reply was more of a groan than anything else, but the meaning was still unmistakably clear.

The other woman chuckled, sympathy in her tone. "Yeah. The first time I was on a boat, I didn't feel too great either", she relayed. "But my Grampa would tell me to just go with the rhythm of the waves and take deep breaths."

"Ugh." Kathleen straightened after she was sure that her stomach wouldn't pitch a rebellion against her anytime soon.

Frances eyed her with a hint of concern. "Are you alright or d'you want me to fetch one of the medics?"

"No, no", the New Yorker said with a weak smile. "I'll be okay. They're busy enough."

With that many men getting seasick, the medics really had their hands full. They were passing out pills against motion sickness, tending to those that were up on deck getting some air or emptying their stomachs and periodically checking on those that tried to rest in their bunks.

"Okay", Frances conceded. "Let's get you back to your bunk."

"Nooo", Kathleen protested in a drawn-out moan, swaying when another wave she wasn't prepared for rocked the ship. "That's only gonna make it worse."

"It won't, I promise." Frances was already slinging her friend's arm over her shoulder, looping her own arm around the sick woman to steady her. "C'mon, just follow my lead."

Catherine was already getting fed up with being stuck amidst hundreds of unwashed bodies. The air was hot and stale, always filled with the noise of the ship, thousands of conversations and the creaks and squeaks of the bunks.

Having two children aged six and four, she was no stranger to noise and hurly-burly. She didn't mind it either, her kids were energetic and sometimes a bit rowdy, which was just fine with her. But at home, she'd always had the option to tell her two rascals to quiet down. Here she had no such authority.

The main thing that was setting her on edge was the lingering stares and leering gazes she and her fellow women received from some soldiers. They made her stomach churn with unease and the smirks made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up. And while she knew that the journey wouldn't last forever and that there would many more unpleasant and difficult circumstances to deal with, Catherine still wished for a little bit of quiet. And breathing room.

That was why she happily jumped down from her bunk when Theresa came up to her and discretely asked her to accompany her to the bathrooms. They were well-aware of the dangers a lone woman could encounter surrounded by so many bored and restless men.

Not that it was much of a problem since usually, they always had at least one of the guys from their company with them. The rational part of the women – Catherine included – knew that it was only for their safety and that they were simply looking out for them. But the stubborn, prideful part inside some of them chafed at it, feeling like they thought them to be too weak or incapable to protect herself. I'm a goddamn paratrooper, I can hold my own, they thought, expressing those sentiments only in hushed whispers and only to their female comrades.

Thus, to retain some measure of dignity and independence, they accepted it when the guys accompanied them out of their own volition, but usually never asked them to do it. Instead, they went to each other for help when they wanted to go somewhere. And so far, their strategy had been quite successful.

.

The hallway where the latrines and showers for the women were located was empty, not surprising because there weren't many women aboard the ship. Apart from the 24 paratroopers, they had seen a couple of Army Nurses, though those were all officers and therefore quartered in cabins.

Theresa pushed the door open and stepped in, Catherine following her.

"Hey Mia", she heard Theresa say and entered the room just as the voice of her fellow female medic returned the greeting in her usual soft-spoken way.

"Hi Mia", Catherine said, smiling at the younger woman, who was apparently in the process of washing something out of her OD shirt. "What happened there?", she asked.

A small half-smile curved the half-German's lips as she rubbed the wet fabric between her hands. "Webster was sick", she explained with a shrug, no trace of annoyance or disgust on her features.

"Did he hit you full-on?", Theresa's voice came from the locked stall, the teasing smile audible in her tone.

Mia chuckled quietly and shook her head. "No, he just…um" – her eyebrows creased as she searched for the proper expression – "scraped me?"

"Grazed you", Catherine supplied easily.

"Grazed me", she repeated with a grateful glance. "I just wanted to get it out of the clothes asap."

The toilet flushed and Theresa emerged from the stall, washing her hands at the other sink. Feeling a little keyed up and goofy, she flicked her fingers towards her friends, splashing them with water. They laughed, Mia retaliating with a flick of her own wet hands.

"Alright, kids, that's enough playing with water", Catherine said in her 'Mom voice', the effect utterly ruined by her own giggles, "let's go back to being responsible adults."

Mia snickered and wrung out her now clean, but still soaked-through OD shirt. "You know more about that than I, Mom", she acknowledged good-naturedly.

"Or me", Theresa agreed with an unabashed grin.