Hey guys, another rather short chapter, but it's the last one for the first episode! Our boys and girls are going to war.
I initially wanted to hold off posting it until tomorrow, but as I'm terribly nervous because it's my concert band's end-of-year concert tonight, I thought I might as well post this now and distract my over-active brain.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
On June 4, they were briefed on what had been dubbed Operation Overlord. It was a massive endeavour. Lieutenant Meehan detailed the Airborne's objective, pointed out the significant points on the map and finished by telling them: "Each trooper will learn this operation by heart, and know his and every other outfits' mission to the detail."
Dukeman stood up, asking: "Lt Meehan?"
"Yes, Dukeman?"
"Sir, are we dropping tonight?", he posed the question that was burning in everybody's minds.
Their CO responded: "When it's time for you to know, we'll let you know."
Scoffing quietly, Elizabeth leant over to Jessica and whispered: "So, either that's a cryptic 'no' or a definitive 'I don't know'."
Her friend smirked and they returned their attention to the lieutenant.
.
"In the meantime, study these sand tables, maps and recon photos until you can draw a map of the area by memory", he said, looking at them to emphasise the importance and gravity of the situation.
"Now, we will drop behind this Atlantic Wall five hours before the 4th Infantry lands at Utah", he continued, gesturing to the large map. "Between our assembly area and the Battalion's objective, there's a German garrison, right here in this area. Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Easy Company will destroy that garrison."
The heavy silence lingered after Meehan had finished speaking. By now at the latest, every last trooper had realised that this was serious. This wasn't a training exercise or a staged field problem. This was the biggest invasion in military history.
"Ugh, if I see that map one more time", Kathleen groaned, "I swear, I'm going to lose it." She tossed down the offending thing and gave it a glare.
Frances rubbed her eyes and set down her notepad, which was filled with several incomplete or aborted sketches of the Cotentin peninsula. "Yeah, I hear ya", she sighed.
Theresa yawned and arched her back, leaning back from the clutter of papers she had been poring over. "Well, I need a break", she declared. "Anyone wanna come grab some coffee in the mess hall?"
"Yeah."
"Sure."
They ambled through the staging area and were soon joined by Catherine and Irene.
"Fed up?", the athletic squad sergeant asked with a smile.
The three women chorused an affirmative.
.
In another tent, Ana María let her head drop backwards. It hit the edge of her bunk with a quiet thump. She had been trying to write a letter to her family for almost an hour now, but somehow, the right words just wouldn't come. Normally, the sentences would flow from her pen, but tonight, she couldn't get past the greetings.
Queridos mamá y papá, queridos Julia y Joaquín
The words stared back at her accusingly from the otherwise blank page, the loops of her handwriting lacking their usual energy, the accents sharp and harsh in contrast.
"What do I tell them?", she asked into the silence of the tent. When she didn't find an answer after staring at the tent wall for a few long minutes, she sighed and set her notepad aside. A walk might help, she decided, getting to her feet. Some fresh air to clear her head.
Ducking out of the tent, the Puerto Rican radio tech headed towards the airfield. She crossed paths with Elizabeth, Helen and Jessica, the three friends on their way to the movie tent. Despite their smiles and easy talk she knew they were just as tense, just as restless as her.
"You okay, Ana?", came the question from the shadows, followed by Maxine stepping into the light.
She stopped, giving her a perfunctory smile. "Yeah, just..." She trailed off, not sure how to express the tangled mess of thoughts, worries and what-ifs inside her mind.
The upperclass-raised woman nodded, the evening breeze untucking strands of her chin-long hair from behind her ear. "Me too", she sympathised. "If you need to talk..."
"Thanks, Max."
With that, they both continued on their way.
.
Ana María turned right, moving away from the billets. In the distance, she saw Mia and Louise sitting on a barricade of sandbags, sharing a cigarette. They were an odd pair, she had to admit, but by now, their unlikely friendship no longer raised eyebrows or garnered surprised looks.
Finally, the ground beneath her feet changed from soft grass to unyielding tarmac. Automatically, her dark gaze travelled upwards, roaming over the star-studded sky. Taking a deep breath and letting the air flow out of her lungs slowly, Ana María felt her nerves settle a little.
"Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos", she murmured, the familiarity of the words soothing in their own way. She prayed for strength, for herself and her friends. She prayed for good fortune and the mission's success. And she prayed for peace. Sure, she had signed up to fight in this war, but not out of love for fighting and violence. Yes, she wanted to prove herself, show all those who doubted her and her friends that they weren't weak and helpless, but ultimately, her reason for signing up was a less honourable one.
Ana María was in it for the money. With the additional 50 $ jump pay, she earned quite a handsome sum each month. That money would finally allow her parents to fulfil their dream of travelling to Puerto Rico to show their children their home country. Her parents had come to the US when she had been only a few months old and while they readily admitted that life was much better there, they both longed to see their beloved island again. Her mamá especially. To her, it had been very important that her children knew their heritage and didn't forget their culture.
While she had been deep in thought, her feet had developed a mind of their own and chosen their own way. Without her wanting it, they had carried her back towards the tents. And so was it that Ana María found herself in front of Father Maloney's tent.
Nodding to herself, the short Puerto Rican knocked and entered when the priest's even voice replied.
The next day found everyone on the airfield, getting ready for the jump.
"I think they have us confused with mules", Jessica commented drily, staring at the collection of gear that she had arranged on a tarp.
"There you go, guys", Doc Oats said over where the medics had gathered, setting down an assortment of boxes, cartons and packages. "Another ton to carry." He had been nominated ranking medic after Mampre fell ill and was thus responsible for making sure the medics had all their supplies and enough of everything.
Further down, Joe Toye was also expressing his annoyance with the ludicrous amount of equipment they had to carry.
"Three-day supply of K-rations, chocolate bars, Charms candy, powdered coffee, sugar, matches, compass, bayonet", he rattled off, circling his tarp with slow, tense strides, "entrenching-tool, ammunition, gas mask, musette bag with ammo, my webbing, my .45, canteen, two cartons of smokes", he knelt down, his gestures sharp with frustration, "Hawkins mine, two grenades, smoke grenade, Gammon grenade, TNT, this bullshit", the coiled-up let-down rope landed on the pile with a smack, "and a pair of nasty skivvies!"
They too ended up on the tarp with more than enough force.
"What's your point?", Perconte wondered.
"This stuff weighs as much as I do!", Toye ranted. "And I still got my chute, my reserve chute, my Mae West and my M-1!"
Louise, who was currently busy trying to figure out the leg bags command had sprung on them barely more than a few hours before, exchanged an amused look with Ana María.
Getting to his feet, Perconte quipped: "Where're you keeping the brass knuckles?"
Joe paused, a look of sullen contemplation on his face. "I could use some brass knuckles", he mused.
As Vest came by on mail call, searching for Sergeant Martin, Louise turned around to face Toye and grinned. "You know", she said casually, folding a pair of socks, "you're being terribly dramatic about this." His glare didn't faze her in the least and she continued with mock-seriousness: "After all, command is only ensuring that none of us go up when we're supposed to drop."
He snorted, his scowl turning into a wry smile. "Yeah. How nice of them", he cracked sarcastically.
.
Maxine let out a grunt her parents would have labelled 'horridly unfeminine' when she plonked herself down on her behind, using her pack as a backrest. The straps of her webbing dug into her thighs, but with a little bit of wiggling and a few tugs here and there, she managed to get at least moderately comfortable.
"You gonna eat all that ice cream, Max?", Guarnere asked in his distinct Philly drawl, eyeing her portion dubiously.
She nodded, smiling happily as a generous spoonful of the cold dessert melted in her mouth.
"Yep", she confirmed after swallowing – just because most soldiers' table manners weren't exactly up to scratch didn't mean she had to join them – and asked back: "Why, want to scrounge it off me?"
He gave her one of his signature grins, wagging his spoon at her. "You wound me, Max", he declared.
She snorted. "Yeah right. You just want more ice cream." She regarded him with a shrewd look, one eyebrow arched and corners of her mouth lifted into a fond smirk.
Bill laughed and shrugged unrepentantly. "Nothin' wrong with that."
They interrupted their teasing banter when Vest came by, handing out a missive with the comment "From Colonel Sink."
Maxine took hers, but before she could even glance at it, Luz had already started reading the message out loud in the regimental commander's accent.
"Soldiers of the regiment", he drawled, acing the impression just like he always did. "Tonight is the night..." He hesitated briefly, reverting back to his own voice. "...of nights. Today, as you read this, you are en route to the great adventure for which you have trained for over two years."
Maxine set the paper down, something in her chest hardening.
Guarnere sighed and put down his spoon. "So that's why they gave us ice cream", he realised.
She nodded.
"Easy Company! Listen up!" Lieutenant Meehan's voice easily carried over the area, from where he was standing atop the hood of a jeep. "Gather up around me!"
When some soldiers dawdled, he urged: "Move it up, come on, gentlemen! Let's go!"
The company gathered, most of them already wearing camouflage paint and full gear.
"The Channel coast is socked in with rain and fog", Meehan announced. "High winds on the drop zone. No jump tonight."
Groans and murmurs rippled through the assembled crowd.
"The invasion has been postponed, we're on a 24-hour stand-down", their CO finished before ordering the drill sergeants to take charge.
Afternoon was turning into evening on June 5 when Easy Company was once more on the airfield. They were fully equipped, laden with somewhere between 90 and 120 pounds of gear that ranged from zippo lighters and crookneck flashlights to switchblades and folding-stock M1 carbines, from aspirin to mortars.
The medics were the last ones as the rest of the soldiers were already reclining on the ground, half-sitting, half-lying in two rows, grouped together in their sticks in front of their assigned aircrafts. They passed out the airsickness pills command had ordered each man to take before returning to their places in the line-up.
.
It took three people to get one paratrooper onto a plane. They shoved and pulled each other up the few steps, hauling in massive, bulky bags of extra equipment. After what felt like hours, everybody was aboard their aircraft, sitting squished together like sardines on the benches.
Daylight was getting scarce when the C-47s rolled down the tarmac and accelerated. One after the other, the huge machines heaved themselves into the sky, the engines' deep rumble filling the air.