Hello everybody! I know I said that the next chapter would be up on Sunday, but since I'll get home pretty late in the evening (and most likely be dog tired), I figured you probably won't mind if I update two days early. :)
I have written ahead a little, but I am still slogging through episode 6. If you have an idea or suggestion as to what could / should happen to one or several of the characters, let me know!
And as always, thank you all so much for reading and for your kind and interesting reviews. They never fail to cheer me up!
The SHAEF reserve camp at Mourmelon-le-Grand near Reims in France was teeming with frantic activity. With elements of the 1st and 6th Panzer Division having broken through the overstretched lines in the Ardennes forest, the two airborne divisions were preparing to move out post-haste.
Transport had, for whatever reason - Jessica theorised that it had been a mix-up or simple incompetence on the part of HQ – not been assigned, so the paratroopers were left to find that themselves. The 82nd Division, owing to the fact that they had been in reserve longer and were thus better re-equipped, moved out in a parade of rumbling engines while the 101st was still in the midst of gathering supplies, locating equipment and organising its troops.
The camp resembled a giant anthill that had been kicked by an equally giant boot. Officers, after being briefed on the situation at their respective HQs, were overseeing preparations. The NCOs, with their platoon leaders' orders, delegated tasks to their men before joining the hunt for supplies.
Anything that isn't nailed down is up for grabs, was the general consensus. The camp could be resupplied. The paratroopers heading into battle, soon to be surrounded by the enemy, couldn't count on supply lines remaining intact. Therefore, Maxine – with Winters' approval – had summarily authorised the soldiers to raid the supply dumps for everything necessary.
.
Catherine's head spun from the enormous list of things that needed to be done. The 24 hours they had to get ready were ticking away mercilessly and she had yet to find a way to compensate for the distinct lack of medical supplies. Gene had already checked the inventory and taken as much as he could, but it wasn't enough. Spina had gone with the group that was headed to the supply dumps, his delegated task being to collect any and all aid kits and whatever else he deemed useful.
Quietly mourning Mampre's reassignment to HQ company after Market Garden, the ranking medic finished up packing what little they already had. Wiping her hands on her trousers, she straightened, grimacing when her joints popped in protest. God I'm getting old. Seeing Captain Winters by an oil drum fire pit with Buck and Peacock, she headed over to them, the flickering flames beckoning her to step closer and take a breather.
The officers greeted her with nods, Buck adding a friendly "Mom", shuffling to the side so she could squeeze in and warm herself a little.
"How is it looking?", Winters inquired, taking in the Hawaiian's pinched expression and overall strained state.
Catherine heaved a sigh, licked her lips. "Supplies are low all around, sir. Food, ammunition, winter clothes, medical supplies..." She shook her head. "We're gonna have to be creative."
"How are your guys?", Buck wanted to know.
She shrugged. "They're okay. Tense and busy like everybody else."
Just then, Mia materialised out of the darkness, her arms laden with a heap of olive drab. In the light of the fire, the dots of scars sprinkled on her chin and cheekbone, remnants of Nuenen, were thrown into sharp relief. "Here", she said, unceremoniously shoving a length of woolly cloth into Catherine's hands, countering her friend's sputters with a pointed look. "You need it."
Her eyes scanned over the three officers. "You need a scarf, too, sir", she determined and Peacock found himself with one in his hands.
As quick as she had appeared, the taciturn brunette vanished again, melting into the drizzle-soaked night like a shadow. "Put the scarf on, Mom", was her parting insistence.
Catherine fondly rolled her eyes and wrapped the warm garment around her neck.
Despite resorting to stealing from other divisions that weren't mobilised alongside them, the 101st hadn't been able to remedy the dire shortages. Cold weather gear, ammo, food, medical supplies were still painfully lacking when the call to mount up came.
The convoy got under way. The soldiers crowded closely together on the backs of the trucks, huddling to keep warm. The cold and the biting wind stung on their skin, their summer ODs not designed to stave off the December chill. Sleet crept down the backs of their collars, making them shudder as it sapped the body heat right out of them.
To speed up the movement, the headlights were on full glare.
Everybody silently prayed that the Luftwaffe was asleep.
.
Cassandra pulled her cap down as far over her ears as she could, squinting against the headlights of the truck behind them. Faintly, nearly drowned out by the growling engines, she could hear Audrey's teeth chattering.
"Did I ever mention...how much I hate the cold?", the New Zealander wondered, the words leaving her purple-tinged lips in a hurried stumble.
Pescini smirked around his cigarette and replied: "Once or twice."
The usually upbeat machine gunner turned her head to glare at him, though there was a small smile glittering in the corner of her eyes. "Hako", she muttered with a teasing lilt.
He snickered, familiar enough with the Maori language to recognise the word. "Bilby", he retorted.
Audrey stuck her tongue out at him.
When the trucks came to a stop several hours later, Esther could barely feel her legs anymore. Groaning as the stiff, cramped muscles stretched, she hopped down, boots hitting sludge. Shivering in the gusty wind, she tugged her scarf higher and buried jump-glove-covered hands deep under the pits of her arms. Flecks of frosted precipitation – not quite snow yet, but already past sleet – flurried from the sky and settled on her dark curls which she customarily tied back in a knot.
So much for going back into the field in mid-March at the earliest, she thought with a mental sigh, wandering past several men of her platoon who relieved themselves right beside the trucks. She had stopped being flustered by the sight of a urinating man long ago.
How are we going to hold the line without ammo?, she wondered, watching as Gnazzo and Lipinski poured gasoline into shallow pits and lit them with a match. Flames flashed and licked up into the night, casting sharp shadows onto the road. Her breath turned to steam as soon as it met the frigid air. Or any other supplies?
.
Footsteps pricked Esther's ears and she lifted her head. The sight made her heart drop towards her boots.
"Got in himmel."
A trail of bedraggled, defeated men shuffled along the road, their expressions either fuzzy with a traumatised numbness or wide-eyed with terror. Many had bloody bandages wrapped around one appendage or another. Her eyes zeroed in on the bandoliers and cartridge belts and she snapped out her state of shock.
All around her, men seemed to have the same idea. "You got ammo?", they asked the walking wounded. "Hey, give me your ammo, c'mon."
Those that were aware enough parted with their remaining munitions without hesitation.
"Take it", one said, tone dull and lacklustre. "You're gonna need it."
Another kept mumbling "There were too many. They came out of nowhere." as he passed off his supplies to a bewildered and concerned Steve Kapopulous.
Handing a few MG bandoliers to Pvt. Ingram with instructions to take them to the machine gunners, Esther continued walking between the overwhelmed and worn soldiers, gathering as many supplies as she could.
.
"Bowman!"
Esther tore her gaze away from the retreating soldiers to see Caracea waving her over to him. Another puff of air curled out of her mouth in a misty swirl before she jogged to catch up to her squad leader.
The sergeant pushed a crate full of ammunition into her arms, a very tame version of his usual exuberant grin on his face. "Here", he said. "Have Jumbo pass these out to the boys" - he produced several en bloc clips from another box - "and take these for yourself."
Spending a moment staring at the clips in blank-faced confusion, the dark-haired translator nodded. "Where did this stuff come from?", she asked, eyebrows drawing together. "I thought we emptied the supply dumps?"
Caracea's grin grew a little wider. "We did. But this lieutenant, uh...Rice, he just showed up with a jeep full of ammo and said, he'd try to make a few more trips."
"Well then", Esther said, "I'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth."
When they moved out on foot, heading down the same road the exhausted and stunned men had come from, Audrey and Cassandra walked behind each other in silence, each taking comfort in the other's presence and the soft sound of their breathing.
There were no snippets of conversations drifting in the air, no traces of jokes fluttering on the wind, no banter exchanged between friends. Only the usual sounds of soldiers marching to battle broke the eerie quiet.
Frost-crusted gravel crunching under rubber-soled jump boots. A metallic clink of equipment here and there. The occasional cough and sniffle.
.
Further up the line of soldiers trekking towards Bastogne, Ana María raised her dark eyes to the night sky, eyelashes fluttering against the snowflakes that started drifting down, and sent a prayer up to the Heavens above.
They didn't have appropriate cold weather gear. They were short on food, ammunition and medical supplies. They weren't even close to full battle-strength and most of their senior leadership, like division commander General Taylor, was absent.
Necesitaremos un milagro.
She crossed herself and kept walking.
By early morning of 20 December, 2nd Battalion of the 506 had taken up their position in the Bois Jacques. Tasked with holding the perimeter, they were the main line of defence, only a few miles east of Bastogne.
If estimates were correct, the Germans outnumbered them five to one. There would be no artillery or air support, not in this weather.
They were on their own.
Surrounded by the enemy.