Hello guys and welcome to another chapter! As always thank you very much for your reviews and continued support, I really appreciate it.
Gosh, I can't wait for the holidays so I can focus more on writing instead of having my brain clattered up by all the projects and deadlines and drama etc etc. Well, my Christmas holidays are actually two weeks of exam prep, but since I have only two exams this time round, I'll have a lot of time for writing :)
Initially, this chapter was split in two, but I realised those would be two very short chapters, so I combined them. Hope you don't mind :) Just in case you were wondering, the other chapter would have been titled "Fences and Majors and Cows, oh my!".
Aldbourne was a quaint little town, a picturesque piece of paradise in the midst of war. It was absurd and also a bit sad, really, that the green fields and gently rolling hills were now the showplace of military drills and realism training. Orienteering, field exercises, tactics and platoon manoeuvres, the list was never-ending. The soldiers had also been made aware of local customs and that they were to behave accordingly.
Command had briefly considered billeting the women in host families to avoid scandalising the vocals, but that had been met with such fervent opposition that they ultimately let them stay in the enlisted personnel's barracks.
Irene smiled to herself as she thought back to their first day off the ship, when a group of them had marched into Sink's office to protest the plan. From Easy, it had been her, Maxine and Ana María. From Dog, Esther Bowman had joined them, along with Audrey Maynard and Cassandra Jessup from Fox Company.
Between the six of them, it hadn't taken them long to convince the colonel that separating them from their companies would only do harm. Being raised in the upper class, Maxine had a sense for politics. Esther Bowman's father was a lawyer and Cassandra Jessup was simply a wily character who had the most impressive talent to turn people's words against them when it suited her.
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"Colonel, with all due respect, how are we supposed to integrate ourselves in our companies and be seen as equals by the men if we are constantly given preferential treatment?", Audrey had questioned eventually, the rest of them nodding in support.
The 506's commander had had to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, equal parts exasperated and proud. Exasperated because each and every argument he offered was shot down with elegant determination and proud for exactly the same thing.
These women had spines of steel and were not to be trifled with. Eloquent, infallibly polite and absolutely unrelenting, they stood up for themselves and their sisters-in-arms. It was something that the Army – and he himself, he had to admit – never would have imagined when the women soldiers' experiment had been initiated.
Sink had regarded the six women before him with a collected gaze. "Well", he had said, allowing a small smile to cross his features, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't damned impressed by your courage and your loyalty to your comrades and companies. You have made a very good point and were very convincing."
They had all waited with baited breath, trying to keep their expressions as neutral and blank as possible while inside, they were dancing with triumph.
"You'll be billeted in the barracks", he had then decided, giving them an approving nod. They had saluted with happy smiles on their faces.
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Irene continued to let her thoughts roam as she cleaned and shone her boots. After the last night march, they were caked with mud, dust clinging to the leather from sole to rim. She flicked away a piece of dried dirt that she had pried out of the profile of her sole, watching it fly through the air and land on the ground.
The barracks were mostly empty this time of night. A few of them were on guard duty, but basically everyone else was at the pub. Irene had begged off, she was tired and she was also rostered on for the last watch of the night. She wasn't keen on falling asleep on duty, thank you very much.
The door opened to let in Albert Blithe, a quiet, slightly shy and dreamy private from First Platoon, and James Roberts, an outstandingly polite young fellow who'd had a very strict upbringing.
"Oh", Roberts made when he realised the barrack wasn't entirely deserted. "Sorry Ma'am, we didn't mean to interrupt."
She shook her head, waving his apology away with an uncoordinated shrug. "It's alright, Roberts, you're not interrupting."
Watching as Blithe slumped onto his bunk, blowing out a deep sigh and setting about unlacing his boots, she asked: "Did you just finish watch?"
Blithe nodded. "Yes Ma'am", he answered through a yawn, his cheeks quickly reddening with embarrassment.
"Well, then get some rest, reveille will come soon enough." Irene smiled and returned her attention to her still-dirty boot while the two tired men got ready for bed.
Out of all the training they received, many struggled with bayonet training. Just the thought of having to shove a blade into another person's body was enough to make them uncomfortable.
"God, I don't know if I can do this", Elizabeth admitted over lunch, shoulders sagging and a look of guilt on her face.
Jessica raised an eyebrow in question as she had her mouth full with food.
"Stick a bayonet into a man", the Reno native answered the unvoiced question.
Kathleen, with her usual sense of tact, pointed out: "Don't worry, you won't have time to doubt yourself when it's either kill or be killed."
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Letting out a short huff of exasperation, Louise kicked her in the shin under the table.
"Ouch", the New Yorker yelped, looking startled and affronted.
The sniper ignored it, instead shooting her an angry stare. "Bloody hell, Kathleen", she groaned, "you're about as considerate as a battering ram!"
She sputtered indignantly, but fell silent under the weight of her friends' looks.
Jessica turned to Elizabeth and said: "If it makes you feel any better, I don't like it either. It feels a lot more up-close and personal than shooting."
She shrugged, uncharacteristically solemn as she pushed her food around on her plate.
"I mostly tell myself that it's only as a last resort", Kathleen commented, an apology in her tone and mien. "We learn this so it's instinctive if we find ourselves in such a situation."
The thing that weighed most heavily on everybody's mind, however, was Sobel. He continued to be a terrible leader, messing up manoeuvres, yelling and shouting at them for just about anything and just generally doing a fantastic job in getting Easy to loathe him more with each day.
Helen considered herself a fairly patient person who got along with almost anyone. But now, crouching in an open, rain-logged field, she had to consciously relax her grip on her rifle as she watched Sobel become flustered when the realisation hit that he had fucked up. A sardonic smile threatened to push to the surface of her mien at the sight of Tipper rolling his eyes when the CO couldn't see it, but overall, she was just fed up with the baffling incompetence of the man.
"Tipper!", Sobel called, either missing or ignoring the fact that the man was standing right next to him.
To his credit, Tipper managed not to let on what he was thinking when he replied: "Yes sir?"
"Give me the map." He paused, then realised that the men were still very much out in the open and ordered: "Perconte, Luz, get the men...get- take cover behind those trees."
When they were a sufficient distance away from Sobel, Evans and Tipper – poor Tipper, left alone between Mister Incompetent and Teacher's Pet No. 1 – the guys had no inhibition about giving voice to their feelings.
"Sobel's lost again, isn't he?", Skinny asked.
Elizabeth snorted. "When isn't he?", she questioned with a disgusted shake of her head.
Perconte rolled his eyes and grumbled: "Yeah, he's lost."
While their not-so-esteemed leader fumbled with the map and displayed his non-existent sense of direction, Helen took another deep breath. Sidelong glances and long-suffering looks were flying back and forth in the platoon, the entire group connected in their disbelief and frustration.
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Suddenly, however, Helen's attention was yanked away from the scene in front of her when a very familiar southern drawl asked: "Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?"
She nearly got herself whiplash from turning her head so fast and just caught the tail end of Perconte's suggestion: "...major can goose this schmuck; get us moving?"
On Luz' face, hesitation and conscience were warring with glee. "No, no way", he repelled, "I'm not gonna..."
"Oh yeah!", Skip jumped in, wicked glint in his eyes. "Luz, you gotta! C'mon!"
The opportunity to finally put one over Sobel won out against any reservations Luz might have had. "Alright", he gave in, "but just this once." He shushed them as he prepared to once more adopt the voice of Major Horton.
Helen would never forget the look of sheer panic that crossed Sobel's face when Major Horton's voice called: "Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?" Nor the grin Tipper fought down while Evans and Sobel had their backs turned.
"Who said that?", Sobel shouted. "Who broke silence?!"
Whatever Tipper told him made Sobel's expression rapidly change from anger back to terror and he looked around himself.
Helen made a mental note to congratulate Tipper on doing such an outstanding job. He had been made Sobel's runner back in Camp Mackall and ever since then, their commanding officer had managed to "mislay" nearly any item when he most needed it.
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Luz, the conniving rascal, decided to up the ante.
"What is the goddamn hold up, Mister Sobel?", he – or rather Major Horton – demanded.
Helen slapped a gloved hand in front of her mouth so she wouldn't burst out into a fit of giggles. This was the most fun she'd ever had on a platoon exercise.
"A fence, sir!", Sobel hollered back, fidgeting uncomfortably. "A...a barbed-wire fence, sir!"
Well, if nothing else, at least his eyes were working, she mused with a stifled laugh.
"Oh, that dog just ain't gonna hunt!", Luz yelled cynically, mimicking the unimpressed variety of the major's accent with unerring accuracy.
The guys were just barely holding it together, shaking from the effort of restraining their laughter to quiet snickers and wheezes.
Helen's sides were starting to hurt from trying to stay quiet. Tears were already leaking from the corners of her eyes. This would go down in history as the greatest of Luz' legendary officer imitations.
"Shut it, sh", the radioman whispered before effortlessly changing accents and bellowing: "Now you cut that fence and get this goddamn platoon on the move!"
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After crossing the fence, the platoon continued towards their objective.
Because they had wasted so much time traipsing all over God's green Earth with their directionally challenged leader, they now had to double-time along the road to ensure that they completed the exercise still within the time limit. At least, the enlisted were in very good spirits on the way. They continued to choke back peals of laughter and hastily wipe gleeful smirks off their faces whenever Sobel or Evans looked their way – which thankfully wasn't too often.
Helen had fallen in next to Theresa and they exchanged telling glances before they were forced to look away lest they dissolve into an uncontrollable laughing fit.
"This is one for the history books", Helen whispered, voice shaking with barely suppressed giggles.
Theresa only just managed to hold back the laugh that wanted to burst out of her. It came out as a whickering whimper.
"God", she whispered back, one hand pressed against her side, "this is torture. Everything's so much funnier when you're not allowed to laugh."
Frances was on her way to the barn that served as the enlisted men's mess hall when she suddenly found her path blocked. She stopped in her tracks, blinking in bewilderment at the pair of large brown eyes goggling at her.
"Um...hi", she uttered, taking a step back.
Unsurprisingly, the cow didn't reply.
A closer look revealed that there were indeed several cows grazing in front of HQ, destroying the neatly kept lawn with their hooves and simply being in the way, creating a fair amount of disruption. A few soldiers were trying and failing to herd the placid cattle away from the lawn.
Looking around her, Frances spotted Helen casually leaning against a fence post across the road, a big smirk on her face. Walking around the cow, who had long since refocused its attention to the grass at the side of the road, she joined her friend, mirroring her stance.
"So", she said, slanting her a look. "Cows."
Helen grinned and nodded. "Cows."
"Any idea why they're here?"
"Oh, Major Horton ordered Sobel to cut a fence that was hindering our platoon's advance", was Helen's reply, delivered with a nonchalant shrug.
Frances' eyebrows rose towards her hairline before settling. A smile stretched her lips. "Major Horton, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Mhm."
They watched with a great amount of amusement as some soldiers struggled to contain the wandering cows while others were slowly despairing of the grazing cattle that just wouldn't budge.
"Didn't you grow up on a farm?", Frances asked eventually, not taking her eyes of the entertaining scene before them.
"Yes."
"Don't you want to offer them some advice? On how to handle cows?"
Helen snorted a laugh and shook her head. "Nah", she said. "This is much more fun."
"Thought so", the other woman agreed with a nod.