Hello everyone. Sorry for not updating yesterday, it was just one weird day... The morning was okay, but the rest of the day was crazy and busy and I only really came home shortly before midnight...
Anyways. Thank you for your lovely reviews, you guys are awesome! I hope you enjoy this albeit short chapter and I wish you all happy holidays or simply a wonderful time!
Unfortunately, Sobel went and tried to court-martial Lt. Winters the next day on a bogus charge for dereliction of duty or some such bullshit. Everyone, including the officers, knew that it was just Sobel trying to cow Winters into submission after having been thoroughly humiliated by the man when he and his platoon took the objective on their own.
Winters, knowing that the captain had nothing concrete against him in hand, called his bluff and requested trial by court-martial. It was dangerous though and put the whole company on edge because while Strayer figured out the procedures of the court-martial, he had reassigned the only trustworthy and capable platoon leader to Battalion Mess.
The NCOs were of course most unhappy about this turn of events. With Winters gone, they were the last line of defence that stood between Sobel and the rest of the men. It took less than a day before there were rumblings in the company that the non-coms were in cahoots over trying to find a way to get the red-headed lieutenant back.
.
"Catherine!"
On her way to the mess hall, the Hawaiian stopped and turned, waiting for Mia to catch up to her. "What is it?", she asked, not missing the troubled tension that clung to her friend. "Are you alright?"
Mia took a breath, bracing herself for what would surely not be an easy conversation. She had mulled it over and over in her head and eventually, she'd decided to just get straight to the point.
"Don't turn in your stripes", she blurted out. There. Like ripping off a plaster.
The ranking medic blinked in surprise before a frown settled on her features. "What?", she questioned. "Almost all NCOs - apart from probably Evans - are doing it. Why wouldn't I?"
Her colleague looked at her and replied evenly: "Because you have kids. If this doesn't work, you will all be shot."
Catherine's eyes flashed. "I'm aware of the consequences, thank you very much." She reigned in her indignation, after all, the younger woman meant well. So, she tried to explain herself. "But I can't just stand there and do nothing. If I die, at least I'll die doing what's right."
.
Mia studied her, her searching gaze unnerving her a little. Eventually, she sighed, eyes dropping to the muddy ground beneath their feet. "You won't change your mind", she said softly.
"No", Catherine confirmed even though it hadn't been a question. She reached out and squeezed her friend's shoulder, waiting until she met her eyes.
"It's gonna be okay. Sink would be mad if he ordered us all shot", she reasoned. "This close to the invasion, he won't want to lose an entire company's worth of non-coms." Or risk a potential political disaster by having a third of Easy's female members court-martialled and shot.
A weak half-smile twitched on Mia's lips and she nodded. "I hope you're right."
"Me too, Mia. Me too."
Patting her on the shoulder and giving her a smile that she hoped was confident, Catherine continued on her way, heading towards the mess hall where she and the other NCOs would put their plan of mutiny into action.
The fallout was comparatively mild. Sink shouted at them, telling them plainly that he ought to have them all shot, but that they should consider themselves lucky since they were "on the eve of the largest action in military warfare", which left him no choice but to spare their lives.
Which didn't mean that they got off unscathed.
Terrence "Salty" Harris was forced to turn in his stripes and was bounced from the regiment. Myron Ranney was busted to private. As was Catherine, who lost the position of ranking medic with the demotion. But she was far too relieved to really be upset about that.
In the evening, after lights out, Kathleen stared at the roof of their barrack and commented: "You know, that was so mind-bogglingly stupid, I can't even describe it."
Across from her, Elizabeth snickered.
"My thoughts exactly", Ana María agreed, her pillow rustling as she got comfortable.
A sigh wafted through the room, followed by the disembodied voice of Irene saying: "I know. But it had to be done."
"No no, I get that. That's not my point", Kathleen explained. "My point is that you didn't even consider going to the colonel and expressing a vote of no confidence in our CO."
.
"That's not my issue either", Frances chimed in. "I just don't get why you wouldn't tell us about this."
Theresa supplied: "Need to know, right?"
Maxine nodded even if nobody could see it in the dark. "Yes", she said. "And plausible deniability."
"We didn't want to put you all at risk, too", Catherine added.
"What I wonder, though", Jessica mused, "is why you got demoted, Cath. I mean, I get Harris and Ranney, they were the ones who orchestrated the whole thing, but why you?"
The former ranking medic shrugged. She hadn't really thought about it, far too happy that they had all gotten off relatively lightly. After all, mutiny was an offence punishable by death.
Louise yawned. "To make an example, possibly", she speculated, scratching at her eyebrow. "To remind us that we won't get any preferential treatment. Which is only right, I'd say."
Murmured agreements rang out before Frances gave a big yawn and said: "Well anyway, glad you're okay, let's hope your crazy scheme pays off, I'm beat, so good night."
They chuckled, wished each other a good night and closed their eyes.
Colonel Sink wasn't a good and respected regimental commander for nothing. He realised that the stunt Easy's non-commissioned officers had pulled was more than just the rash idea of a few disgruntled men. It was an act of desperation. So, he decided to look into the goddamn fiasco.
Captain Sobel was transferred and appointed to a new jump school at Chilton Foliat as an instructor. While his training methods were admittedly crude or gruelling sometimes, there was no denying that he was responsible for making Easy the best. Some would say that they had become the best because of Sobel, others would claim that it was despite him, the end result was the same.
The new CO replacing Sobel was Lieutenant Thomas Meehan, formerly from Baker Company. He was almost the complete opposite of Sobel. Steady, with a friendly smile and a mind for tactics. He'd never dealt with any of the women personally before, but he was more than willing to see how they did. He made a point of speaking to them individually. As he put it, he wanted to make sure that they knew he would always hear their side of whatever story or accusation crossed his desk.
The company also got a new platoon leader, Lt Buck Compton. He was a genial sort who got along great with the enlisted. With his snowy blond hair and bright eyes, he certainly looked the part of the All-American hero. But that wasn't to mean that he was incapable. No, he was a good leader that one could depend on. He was also quite happy to let the NCOs do their job instead of trying to delegating each task himself and running the risk of assigning soldiers whose particular skills or talents would have been better use elsewhere.
Both new officers were soon duly impressed with the women of the company. They both knew rationally that the female members of Easy were just as fit and skilled as any of the men, but actually witnessing it was still a different matter. Any reservations they might have had were dissolved at the latest after they had seen Maxine and Irene direct their squads, Jessica take down some of the biggest men in unarmed combat or Ana María dismantle and repair a radio.
And, of course, nothing put a doubtful man's mind at rest like watching Louise shoot smiley faces into paper targets from 300 yards away.
Towards the end of May 1944, the regiment moved to Upottery. Tension lay in the air as everybody knew that something was up. Something big was approaching. They were no longer billeted in barracks, they completed training jump after training jump and there were British soldiers walking around in German uniforms on base.
One night, during a particularly dull and uneventful shift at the infirmary, Mia and Roe were quietly going over their field manuals, conferring in hushed whispers over suggested treatments and different scenarios. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Opening the door, Mia was met with the sight of a corporal from Dog Company, his hair sleep-mussed and eyes squinting against the light that spilled through the doorway.
"Hey Doc, um, there's this guy at the latrines", he said, "uh...he don't look so good. Been puking an' all that, but I think it ain't just from a few too many."
Gene nodded, grabbing his bag. "Alright, let's go", he told the man. There was no need to ask his friend if she would stay and hold down the fort.
.
Five minutes later, he returned, holding up the stumbling form of their colleague and ranking medic Al Mampre.
"What happened?", Mia asked as she came to meet them, ducking under Mampre's other arm to take some of his weight. The poor man could barely walk straight, he was shaking so badly.
"Dunno", the half-Cajun replied as they guided their friend towards the nearest cot, his soft accent holding no real urgency. "Like the corporal said, he was in the latrines throwing up. He said his throat wasn't feeling right."
Helping Mampre sit down, Mia looked him over, taking note of his flushed cheeks and unusually pale complexion. "Hey Al", she addressed him, "how do you feel?"
Gene handed him a basin, just in case he needed to throw up again.
"Like shit", Mampre rasped, wincing in pain. "My neck hurts like nobody's business." His expression changed to one of horrified disgust, seconds before he bent over the basin and retched.
One of Mia's hands was rubbing soothing circles on his back while the other felt his forehead. "He's hot", she told Gene, a frown starting to form on her features. "And that" – she pointed to the contents of the basin Mampre was holding – "is not from alcohol."
Gene nodded. They'd had to take care of enough soldiers whose stomachs had protested after being forced to digest too much beer to know what that looked like. "I'll get the doctor."
.
As it turned out, Mampre had gotten a nasty infection in his neck. The pus that had leaked from there had been the cause for his vomiting. He was transported to the nearest military hospital in the early hours of morning.
Oats took over as ranking medic ad interim.
"Only until Al's recovered", he insisted. "Not a day longer."