Hello everybody and welcome back to another chapter :) Thank you all very much for your support and comments, I really appreciate it.
I'm quickly posting this chapter before I have to go get the second half of my wisdom teeth removed which, if it goes as well as last time, is unpleasant and leaves me looking like a one-sided hamster for a few days, but isn't that bad overall.
Well, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know what you think or if you have any ideas, wishes, requests...
Easy traded fire with the enemy for the better part of the afternoon while they worked on fortifying their position for the night. The distant rumble of thunder that had accompanied them all day developed into an all-out thunderstorm by the time darkness fell, pouring a never-ending curtain of rain onto them, the raindrops falling so quickly that they looked like strings.
Huddled in sludgy foxholes they had dug along the roots of the hedges, the soldiers prepared for a cold, long and miserable night as the wind shook the branches and their soaked ODs clung to their skin.
.
Catherine shifted as lightening split the sky, a clap of thunder rattling her bones only a few seconds later. Finding a position that satisfied even the loosest definition of comfortable was completely impossible. She was wet, cold and sore. Dirt was itching on her skin and her innards were apparently trying to strangle each other. Cold mud hit the back of her neck and trailed down her collar as Blithe climbed down from the dyke to settle into their trench.
Johnny Martin, the other occupant of the foxhole, spared the absent-minded blond a short glance before glaring sullenly into the rain-swept distance again. "What have they got to sing about?", he wondered, resentment against the Krauts ringing loud and clear in his clipped tone.
The Germans had started singing in their trenches about an hour ago, each song seemingly more disgustingly upbeat and cheerful than the one before.
The ranking medic blinked rain from her eyes for the umpteenth time, blowing out a frustrated huff. "Don't know", she replied bitterly, asking sarcastically: "Want me to ask Mia?"
He bestowed his unparalleled bitchface upon her to communicate just how unamused he was. She responded with an equally quelling look before clamping down on her own frustration and irritability, grimacing at her intestines' attempt to imitate an anaconda.
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Johnny suddenly whipped his head around, his rifle immediately at the ready when he caught sight of movement up on the dyke. Foliage rustled and he snapped: "Flash!"
The dripping wet and outrageously chipper figure of Lieutenant Welsh slid over the crest and down next to them.
"Thunder", he drawled with a smirk. "Catchy tune, ain't it?"
Relaxing his stance and sitting back down again, the sergeant bit back a caustic barb. "Hey Lieutenant. What's the news?"
"Same as it was this afternoon", Welsh said, looking pensively over to the opposite line. "They're in their hedgerow, we're in ours."
Catherine heaved a sigh after a glance at her watch, climbing to her feet. "They seem to be having a grand time of it, too", she remarked peevishly, suppressing a shudder as the change in position caused another icy trickle of water to run down her back. "I won't be long, just going to check in with the others."
Roe and Mia were doing rounds tonight and she wanted to get a sitrep from them. Already during field exercises in basic training, the medics had gotten into the habit of checking on the men each night when they were dug in. Now, in the field, they also made their rounds after a firefight. It was their way of ensuring that no injury went unattended.
.
Catherine passed First Platoon's foxholes, offering silent nods to those keeping watch, noting with satisfaction that many had managed to fall asleep despite the tension hanging in the air, niggling under their skin. Walking further, making sure to stay low, she came across Louise, who was in the process of silently climbing out of her foxhole.
"You okay?", the ranking medic asked, keeping her voice at a whisper.
The sniper nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm going to see that Liebgott's alright. Reese said she was a bit worried about him. And you, are you alright?"
"I'll be better once the cramps stop."
A blonde eyebrow arched before pulling into a sympathetic frown. "How long will that be?", Louise questioned.
Catherine shrugged and heaved a frustrated sigh. "Anywhere between an hour and a day."
"One of the lucky ones then, hm?", Louise commented with a grimace. "Well, I'll be off. Feel better soon, yeah?"
Catherine just nodded and they continued on their way.
.
Having gotten the sitreps from her fellow medics, Catherine walked back up the line a short time later, one hand rubbing steady circles on her lower abdomen. She had forced a magnesium tablet down her throat with a small gulp of water – Sobel's lesson about not wasting drinking water had burned itself into her mind very soundly – but until the medicine kicked in, she had to just breathe through it.
When she returned to the trench she shared with Blithe and Martin, the cramps were already diminishing and her mood had improved a little. She was still wet, cold, achy and tired, but now she could shove down the period-induced irritation and grumpiness.
Seeing that Johnny was asleep or at least dozing, she shot Blithe a small smile that wasn't returned and slid in on the private's other side. Sighing at the unpleasant squelching sound that her boots made when they hit the bottom of the trench, Catherine sat down and tried to get comfortable, or as comfortable as it got. Clutching her bag to her chest and pulling her knees up, she closed her eyes and willed sleep to come.
Further down the line, in an equally muddy foxhole, Louise was sitting next to Liebgott, their shoulders touching. When she had arrived, Liebgott's foxhole buddy Smith had left to relieve himself. Settling in the spot Smith had just vacated, the Brit leaned her rifle against the wall and studied her friend.
He was wrapped in a coat of silence and tension. His fingers played with an unlit cigarette as he stared at the opposite wall of the hole they sat in. Even with only the moon as a light source, she could see the way his lips were pressed into a thin line, how his brows were furrowed into a brooding scowl. All signs that he wasn't alright, not by a long chalk.
Louise couldn't blame him for being upset about his friend getting wounded. From what she'd heard, Tipper's injuries had been serious and extensive and judging by how he had received them, it was actually a small miracle that he was alive. He could've easily been killed by that artillery shell.
Not knowing what to say, or if she should say something at all, she fished out her zippo and held it out to him.
Liebgott contemplated it for a moment before taking it. He lit his cigarette and took a long puff from it, pushing the smoke back out of his lungs with a short, forceful burst of air. He slanted her a sideway look and offered the cigarette to her.
Louise took a drag and handed the smoke back. Exhaling, she watched as the stream of silver-grey smoke frayed, raindrops poking holes into the coiling vapour. It might have been five minutes, it might have been an hour that they huddled together in silence, trading a smoke back and forth.
.
"Fuck."
Liebgott didn't elaborate on the quietly uttered curse, but it was more than enough to express his emotions.
Louise followed his lead and nodded. "Fuck", she agreed, accepting the cigarette again.
He swiped the rain from his eyes with a sharp, jerky motion and really looked at her for the first time since she'd slipped into his foxhole. He snorted and pointed out: "You have mud on your face."
She shrugged. "I have mud everywhere", she replied in a blank tone.
The ghost of his signature smirk tilted his lips. "Everywhere?", he questioned.
"Wipe that smirk of your face or I'll do it for you", Louise threatened with a smirk of her own.
Liebgott gave another snort, his grin widening a bit as he took back the cigarette.
They fell quiet again, each dwelling on their own thoughts as the wind whistled over their heads, driving squalls of rain across the soaked field.
Although they clashed occasionally – and spectacularly so thanks to their fiery tempers – and never shied away from expanding each other's abundant repertoire of insults and curses, their friendship also allowed for moments like these: Moments where they sat shoulder to shoulder, offering silent support while accepting that sometimes, things just sucked and there was nothing they could do about it right now.
.
When Smith returned after what must have been an awfully long trip to some latrine-worthy bushes, Louise realised, albeit with some reluctance, that it was time to head back to her own foxhole. Nodding at Smith, she grabbed her rifle and climbed out of the hole.
Catching Liebgott's gaze that had followed her, the Brit gave him brief nod, internally smiling when he reciprocated it. Then, she walked away, letting the soaked, lightning-torn darkness swallow her.
At Second Platoon's stretch of the line, Maxine was also out and about, passing along the order that had just come down from their company XO. It wasn't one a soldier liked to hear, but it was one that had to be expected in a situation like this.
"Fix bayonets."
She didn't linger to make sure her guys obeyed. For one because she trusted them and also because she was eager to get back to her own foxhole that offered at least a modicum of protection from the driving rain and piercing wind.
.
"How's the head, Max?", Bill asked, eyeing her with a watchful look.
She offered him a brief smile and replied: "Still where it's supposed to be. Headache's almost gone."
That answer seemed to satisfy because the muscles around his mouth relaxed slightly, morphing into a smirk. "Good. Wouldn't wanna lose that smart noggin' of yours."
Chuckling, the Staff Sergeant nodded to her fellow NCO, told him to get some rest and left to finish spreading the word.
.
Finally, she slid into the ditch that was the foxhole she was sharing with Ranney, shivering as raindrops dripped down from the rim of her helmet in front of her eyes.
"Welsh said to fix bayonets", Maxine told him, shifting the barrel of her rifle so it didn't rest on the bruises on her shoulder.
He acknowledged with an inarticulate hum, pulling the blade from its sheath on his calf.
Wrapping her rain poncho tighter around her body, the vestiges of her concussion coupled with the cold and exhaustion loosened her tongue enough for her to voice the thought that popped into her mind. "Let's hope nobody pokes somebody's eye out", she mumbled, closing her eyes.
With Ranney's stifled giggle in her ears, Maxine soon dropped off into sleep.
It was past midnight when Bull was startled back to full alertness by a yell.
"The hell you doing?! That's Talbert!", he could hear Liebgott exclaim, voice pitched in incredulous shock.
A moan rippled through the dark air, followed by a hoarse cry for a medic.
Bull watched with no small amount of fascination as his foxhole partner went from dead asleep to up and running in less than a heartbeat. Doc Arricante's eyes snapped open and she had grabbed her satchel and was scrambling out of the foxhole before the haze of sleep had a chance to leave her features.
Pausing for the merest fraction of a second at the lip of the foxhole to locate the origin of the call, she then dashed off into the wind-battered night, her footsteps only audible when they splashed through a puddle or hit a muddy patch of soaked earth.
At least the rain had stopped.
.
For the three men, Mia seemed to appear out of the darkness like a helping angel. She wasted no time, dropping to her knees beside the gasping and moaning Talbert, digging out bandages and sulfa while her eyes zeroed in on Liebgott's hands pressing down onto a wound in his friend's stomach.
"Can you breathe?", Liebgott asked, apparently not satisfied with the Sergeant's dazed answer because he asked again.
"Yeah I can breathe!", Talbert snapped.
"I didn't mean to", Smith babbled in the background, distraught gaze jumping from one person to the next and back. "He looked like a Kraut."
Working quickly to disinfect the wound and stem the bleeding with a deftly applied pressure bandage, Mia said, calm and steady: "It will be okay, Talbert. You'll be fine."
He groaned, tossing his head, his face contorted in pain. But his breathing slowed a little at the lack of urgency in her tone.
Liebgott scrutinised the young medic, trying to decipher her expression which was as composed and even as always – as far as he knew.
"Everything alright?"
They jumped at the sudden voice. Talbert's hand twitched to the gun that lay discarded by his side while Liebgott pivoted in his crouched position to face the newcomer. Smith paled even further when he recognised the person that had materialised out of the shadows.
Mia answered before any of the guys could open their mouths to form a reply. Focused on tying the bandage with blood-slick fingers, she offered: "All under control, sir. Sergeant Talbert needs an evac, but he will be fine." Pulling the knot tight, she shifted to meet Lieutenant Speirs' intense stare for a moment before turning her attention back to her patient, who was still in a considerable amount of pain.
Speirs nodded, stepped back and moved to speak to Lt Winters, who had come to see what happened.
.
Giving Talbert a small smile, Mia said: "I'll give you something against the pain", fishing a morphine syrette from her satchel.
"No, no, Doc." Tab shook his head in protest. "It's okay...save it."
Her brows creased into a frown and she looked ready to object, but then she nodded. "Tell me when the pain gets worse", she said instead. "I can give it to you then."
He agreed, grimacing as his back complained about his awkward semi-upright position leaning against a tree. Without a word, the soft-spoken woman helped him sit up a bit more.
"I'm so sorry", Smith repeated for the twelfth time. "I didn't mean to."
Rolling his eyes, Liebgott grumbled: "Yeah, we know."
Mia sat back on her haunches, absently wiping her hands on her trousers. "It's already happened, Smith", she said, neither condemnation nor condescension in her tone. "He'll be fine."
"Yeah", Talbert chimed in tiredly, waving a hand in a vague gesture that could have meant 'don't sweat it' or 'get me another beer'.
Swallowing, the poor man visibly pulled himself together and reached for his rifle. "I...okay. I'll go stand watch now." With a last apologetic sniffle, he trotted off.
.
Liebgott shook his head. "God damnit", he cursed, shoving a hand through his hair. He muttered something along the lines of "jumpy idiot" before rounding on Talbert. "And what the fuck were you thinking, wearing a Kraut poncho?", he demanded, glaring at his Sergeant.
Tab had the good sense to look ashamed. "Just trying to stay dry."
"Yeah, gotta say, Tab, really worked out great", Liebgott snarked with a bitter twist in his lips.
He saw the medic shake her head silently where she was knelt beside her patient. Already riled up and eager to blow off some steam, his sharp eyes bored into her and he challenged: "What? You got anything to say, Doc?"
She met his ire-filled gaze with an unperturbed, flat one. "What do you want me to say? It was no smart idea and a stupid accident, but hitting the ceiling doesn't help anyone."
The reasonable, matter-of-fact tone of her voice had Liebgott's anger draining before he knew it. He deflated, dragging a hand down his face and blowing out a weary sigh. "Shit", he then said with a snort. "I've never heard you talk this much."
Mia just smiled, chuckling softly while her eyes moved away from him to check on Talbert. The wounded man was listening, a smirk on his lips, but his eyelids were drooping and beads of perspiration were collecting on his forehead. The tension in his jaw spoke of grit teeth and she wasn't too happy with his shallow, hitched breathing, but he refused the morphine a second time when she suggested it.
Two hours after the initial call had gone up, Bull was alerted to the return of his foxhole partner by muffled footfalls, followed by a rustle of ODs and a soft thud. He wordlessly shifted to make room for the young medic, watching as the quiet woman settled against the hard, damp earth.
"What happened?"
Blue met blue and her light accent drifted through the small space between them. "Talbert got stabbed", Mia relayed in an undertone. "It was an accident."
Bull nodded in acknowledgment, asking: "He gonn' be alright?"
A yawn slipped past her lips. "Yeah, in the hospital, they will patch him back together", she assured, rubbing her eyes.
"Good."