Hello everybody and welcome back to another chapter! I hope you like it, so let me know what you think.
Also, if you have any suggestions or ideas as to which of the women is going to die (and how) in Bastogne, feel free to leave me a review or PM. I still haven't decided...
Just so you know, there won't be an update next week as I will be away. And afterwards, updates might get even more irregular than they already are because I'll start my internship.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter :)
Frances had her back leant against the stone bannister travelling up the steps in front of a small chapel. The autumn sun, dim through a slight haze of mist in the sky, tingled on her skin. A small blessing in the murky humdrum that was their life right now. October was already drawing to a close and they were in another town with an unpronounceable name that looked just the same as the ones they had been stationed in before.
"Hey Frances, you alright?"
She looked up from the cards she had been frowning at. "Yeah, sure", she replied, scooting sideways so Jessica could sit down. "Just thinking."
"'bout what?" Jessica dug through her pockets and pulled out a chocolate bar, offering half to her friend.
The North Carolinian took it with a smile and shrugged. "About if we're ever gonna be taken off the line again."
"Yeah...I don't know", Jessica said with a snort around a mouthful of delicious sweetness. "Least we have a good commander again."
Flicking a card up, twirling it around in her fingers, Frances huffed a laugh. "You can say that again", she agreed, taking a bite of her chocolate. "Thank God that Welsh is a competent XO or we'd have been pretty lost."
Jessica nodded. "This whole operation is already enough of a mess, imagine how it would have been without Winters and the other Toccoa officers."
"I'd rather not", Frances retorted drily as she shuffled her deck with one hand.
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Ana María joined them, flopping down with a groan and tilting her head this way and that to ease the stiffness of her neck and shoulder muscles.
"I don't know how the medics can stay hunched over their patients all day", she confided, wincing as something popped in her back. "My neck is as stiff as mamá's ironing board and all I did was fix the hand-held radio."
Her friends laughed and Jessica asked half-jokingly: "Need a massage?"
"Are you offering?", the Puerto Rican asked back.
She grinned. "Why not. Turn around."
Ana María didn't need to be told twice. She shrugged off her jacket and scooted backwards. Frances watched in amusement as Jessica started massaging Ana María's shoulders, the short Latina closing her eyes.
Putting away her cards because her fingers were still itching for something to do, Frances fished out her sewing kit from the bottom of her bag.
We're an odd bunch, she mused with a smile, threading the needle and smoothing out the leg of her pants so she could close the holes and small tears in the fabric. Maxine had had enough trouble getting the most urgent supplies for her squad, so Frances figured it was just easier to mend her ODs instead of requisitioning new ones.
.
"Hey, if you're done fixing your clothes, d'you want to do mine, too?", Jessica tossed over her shoulder, smirk tilting her mouth while her fingers worked to dissolve the knots in Ana María's shoulders.
"What, while you're wearing them?", the Puerto Rican chimed in, her giggle abruptly changing into a squeaky yelp when Jess hit a particularly painful spot.
Frances laughed. "You know how to sew."
The blonde turned her head to shoot her a droll look, arching a brow and pointing out: "Well, yes, but you're already at it and I have my hands full."
"What do I get out of it?" Frances wasn't one to miss an opportunity to bargain and haggle. She bent forward to get a better look at the scorched hole a piece of hot debris had left on the elbow of her jacket.
"A chocolate bar", Jessica replied promptly.
"A chocolate bar and a pack of smokes."
"Two chocolate bars."
"Two chocolate bars and I'll drop the pack of smokes if you give me a massage."
Jessica paused only for the fraction of a second before accepting the bargain. "Deal."
They shook hands.
"You're a goddamn shark", the Marylander grumbled, pretending to sulk.
Grinning, Frances chirped an unfazed "I know".
Ana María just laughed at her friends' antics, relaxed under Jessica's hands.
.
Louise joined their odd little congregation a while later, smirking at the sight of Frances happily enjoying Jessica's shoulder massage while Ana María sat next to them, reading a letter.
"Oh hey Louise", Jessica said, the other women also greeting the sniper, Frances doing so without opening her eyes.
"Hey."
Ana María and Jessica traded a confused glance when the sniper sat down only slowly, gingerly leant her head back to rest against the banister and shut her eyes, blowing out a long breath. "Are you okay, Louise?", Ana María asked, taking in her friend's pinched expression, the tension around her closed eyes.
The Brit didn't open her eyes as she replied: "I've got a splitting headache and aspirin hasn't had any effect at all."
"Maybe I can help", Frances offered, shifting a little and turning her head so she could look at Louise. "Is the pain only on one side of the head? More at the front or at the back? Does light bother you?"
Louise's forehead wrinkled into a small frown, but she answered nonetheless, one hand tiredly gesturing to the areas where the pain was most dominant. "It's pretty much all around, like somebody's squeezing my head. Light doesn't bother me, though."
Frances nodded to herself and instructed her to lie down. "Put your head in my lap", she said.
Louise complied and rested her head on Frances' thighs. Nimble fingers touched her temples and began rubbing small circles, applying just enough pressure for it to be comfortable. Two thumbs brushed over her forehead, from the bridge of her nose up and from the centre outward.
Closing her eyes again, Louise allowed Frances' ministrations to lull her into a state of sleepy relaxation.
The pain gradually ebbed, only flaring briefly when the clever fingers dug into two spots at the base of her skull. She sucked in a sharp breath, whole body momentarily stiffening before the pain evaporated.
"Sorry", Frances murmured.
Ana María couldn't help but smile at the daisy chain in front of her. The lines of pain marring Louise's features had smoothed out under Frances' touch and Jessica seemed to find massaging Frances' shoulders almost as relaxing as Frances did receiving the massage.
.
The men who saw the girls' little group on the steps of the chapel were either confused or amused. The Toccoa veterans looked upon the scene with fond acceptance, long accustomed to the special bond the women shared among each other.
One of the newest replacements confessed in a hushed whisper, eyes comically wide almost as if the sight had scared him: "I've never seen Sergeant Fields like that."
Martin shared a grin with Bull and enlightened the kid to the fact that Louise was just as human as the rest of them.
"To be fair, though", Bull spoke up in his measured drawl after the newbie had scampered off, "I ain't seen Louise this relaxed and vulnerable either."
Tragedy struck again on Halloween, in the town of Driel, when Lt Heyliger was caught in a friendly fire incident. He had been walking the perimeter with Captain Winters, the newly-minted Battalion XO offering some encouraging pointers and helpful words of wisdom about leading Easy Company as they leisurely ambled along the railroad tracks.
A guard had stopped them, crying "Halt! Who is it?" from the shadows instead of using the correct prompt.
Thrown by the lack of formality, the lieutenant had called back: "It's Moose!" Only to be cut off by gunfire, bullets taking his breath as they slammed into his body, felling him like a young tree.
Winters, horrified but reflexes intact, had caught the man and lowered him to the ground, senseless soothing platitudes falling from his lips.
The guard, a pale youth – boy, just a kid – had come running and frozen in shock when he had realised what he'd done. "I'm so sorry", he had babbled, staring at Moose's bleeding form.
"Send for Lieutenant Welsh", Winters had ordered before turning back to Moose. "Hang in there, Moose, stay with me." When the boy had made no move to obey, he had snapped his head back up and bellowed: "Send for Lieutenant Welsh, now!"
The kid had scrambled off, panic fuelling his speed.
.
Catherine didn't know about that, but she had enough details about what had transpired afterwards to be rightfully incensed. Leaving Mia in charge of the aid station while Gene took some time to calm down after his temper had flashed over, she headed to HQ and marched up the stairs to Winters' office.
She was completely unsurprised to find Winters in the company of Nixon and Welsh, the former looking torn between gleeful amusement and worry while the latter had an equally guilty and miserable air around him as Winters, only more pronounced.
"Catherine", Nixon greeted her, motioning for her to enter with a cup in his hand. She was near-certain that it didn't contain water or coffee.
"Sirs."
Looking at the three officers with what her friends had named the 'disapproving mother' stare, the ranking medic asked: "Would anyone like to tell me just what in God's name happened tonight?"
Welsh's shoulders hunched. Winters looked grim.
"I've just had one very pissed off Cajun rant at me in English, French and something in between about officers being stupid and forgetting their training after telling me that Lt Heyliger was shot. So I'd really appreciate an explanation."
Folding her arms, Catherine waited.
.
"It was a stupid mistake", Welsh mumbled into his cup, which the Hawaiian was sure wasn't filled with water or coffee either. "He was in so much pain, Doc."
She turned to Winters in the hope of maybe getting a more cohesive reply.
The redhead sighed. Shoulders curved and expression grave, he elaborated: "We forgot how much morphine we gave Moose."
"We didn't stick the syrettes to his jacket", Welsh added, his voice unusually meek for the normally energetic man. "So we didn't know if it was two or three we gave him."
Catherine blinked, jaw going slack at the revelation. Two or three?
"Two or three?!", she stuttered, gaping at the men who shrunk under the baffled and outraged brown gaze. "Good Lord, no wonder Gene is seething." She took a calming breath and reined in her own temper, raking her fingers through her hair.
"What happened?", she questioned, eyes moving from one officer to the next as she worked through her shock, more interested in getting to the bottom of this than lecturing them. They knew that they'd messed up, scolding them any further wouldn't do much.
Winters summarised the events, Nixon adding his two cents' worth.
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As she listened, Catherine gradually felt her patience, will to live and ability to cope with dumb accidents and other bullshit leave her. They slowly drained from her, sinking past her stomach and into the ground, probably never to be seen again.
"Un-be-lieveable", she mumbled when Winters had finished, shaking her head and turning her eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer for strength. "Jesus Christ."
"We're sorry, Catherine", her former CO said, voice filled with absolute sincerity and pure remorse.
Welsh nodded. "We're sorry, Mom."
She quirked her lips into a sympathetic smile. "I know", she said, gaze soft but stern. "It won't happen again."
They shook their heads. It wouldn't- it couldn't happen again. Because next time, the patient might not be so lucky. Next time, the overdose might be fatal.
"How's Moose though?", Nixon piped up. "Any word?"
Catherine shrugged, genuinely wishing she knew more than she did. "As far as Gene could tell me, the doctor said he had a fair chance."
Thanking her, Winters dismissed the ranking medic. She nodded and smiled. "Good night, sirs", she wished them even though she was sure none of them would be getting much sleep tonight. She pulled the door closed, leaving an uncharacteristically sombre and silent trio of officers behind her.
Less than a week after Lt Heyliger's misfortune, Maxine was called to battalion headquarters just after she had returned from patrol. She followed a baby-faced private into Winters' office.
"Hey Max", Welsh greeted with a grin. "Run into any more reporters?"
She smiled and denied, saying hello to Nixon and Winters as well. "But rumour has it that some war correspondent is going to come follow us around a few days from now", she commented with a not particularly enthusiastic shrug. "Either it's gonna be a piece of glorified gushing or muckraking at its best. Anyways, Lip said you wanted to see me, sir?" The last part was directed at her former CO.
He nodded and gestured to the chair, asking her to sit.
She did, wondering what this was about.
.
"As you know, the decision to include women in the Army has sparked a lot of debate back home", Winters began, regarding her calmly. "You are both heroes and rebels to them and the women have been more vocal than ever in their demands for equality."
A frown began to pull at Maxine's eyebrows, but she nodded, indicating that she had heard about this, too.
The captain's mouth twitched with a flash of something she couldn't identify and he sighed, taking two sheets of paper from one of the piles and setting them down in front of him. "You are from an influential and well-situated family", he continued, an apologetic tone in his voice when her expression closed, "therefore, the powers that be have decided to promote you."
What? Maxine couldn't believe what she had just heard. She stared at Winters, hoping that this was somehow just a bad joke despite the distinctly heavy feeling in her chest suggesting the contrary. "They want to promote me?", she questioned.
"Battle-field commission", Welsh specified from where he was standing by the window with Nixon, who finished: "They're making you a 2nd lieutenant."
Her jaw dropped. Her stomach followed a second later when her mind caught up.
"Because of my family's influence", she stated flatly, cheeks heating up as hurt anger rose inside her. A battle-field commission was something that should be earned, not assigned for political reasoning. "Thank you, but I'd rather earn my promotions on my own merit."
Winters looked almost sad, a twist of genuine sympathy in his brow. A brief glance and Nixon and Welsh were quietly leaving the office.
.
When the door had closed behind Welsh, Winters took a breath. "I appreciate your integrity, Maxine", he said, "and I can understand that you don't want to be used as a pawn in political manoeuvring." He leant forward, placing his hands flat on the desktop. "But you have earned this."
Maxine's doubt must have shown on her face because Winters got up and rounded the desk, leaning against its edge. "You were made staff sergeant because of your outstanding leadership qualities and diplomatic skills."
She looked away. Her cheeks were still burning, her gut churning with disappointment at being used merely as a means to an end.
"The men listened to you long before there were any ranks", Winters carried on, stating what he saw as facts. "Since then, you have proven yourself over and over, during training and in the field. You are an exemplary NCO, so as far as I'm concerned, Max" – her head snapped up at the use of her company nickname – "you deserve it. You're a good leader."
Slowly, a half-smile made its way onto Maxine's face and she nodded. "Thank you, sir." She sighed and asked: "Am I going to be transferred out of Easy?"
"No", Winters replied, effectively reading her mind. "You won't even lose your platoon." It was a long-running joke among the company that Second Platoon had not one, but two platoon sergeants since Maxine and Guarnere were so close.
The smile widened, relief glowing inside it as the Washingtonian's mood rose. Winters returned the smile and shook her hand. "You've earned this, Maxine", he told her again.
"Thanks, sir. Really."
"You'll get your official papers in a week or two", he said as Maxine got up and prepared to leave.
She nodded and with his dismissal, left the office.
Oh God. I'm gonna be a lieutenant! What are my guys going to say to that?