Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I was too busy enjoying the peace and quiet at home - and the lovely weather.
I have some bad news, unfortunately: In the foreseeable future, I won't be able to post new chapters with any sort of regularity. My weekends are already chock-full until mid-April and with my new work hours, I can't get that much writing done during the week either.
So, until May at least, updates will be irregular and, sadly, infrequent. I am really sorry and I hope you're not too disappointed. I want the chapters I upload to be good, not some hastily written jumble of words. Please understand that I will still try my hardest to write and edit as much as time allows. Again, I'm really sorry, I know how frustrating it is to wait for a writer to update a story you're hooked on...
As an apology, this chapter is slightly bigger than the others.
The days in the Bois Jacques continued in a blur of snow and mortars. Illness persisted and only a handful of people had yet to develop a cough, sore throat or blocked nose. Frances' improvised heaters helped prevent some of the more serious cases from turning any worse, but the medics still worked non-stop. Treating the wounded after barrages and the occasional firefight, handling ailments such as trench foot and UTIs that were running rampant, trying to fill the hole resulting from Catherine being out of commission. They were burning the candle at both ends, running on two hours of sleep or less. Their faces held a constant grey tinge of sheer exhaustion.
Which was why Spina nearly cried when word reached them that General Patton and his Third Army had broken through the German lines on 26 December.
"Did you hear that?", he asked, giving Mia's arm a shake in his excitement. "We're not surrounded anymore!"
Mia nodded, a small smile that didn't reach her eyes gracing her features. "I heard." She shuffled from one foot to the other and scrubbed a sleeve-covered hand down her face. "They came to rescue us", she quoted.
Spina snorted. The surrounded troopers vehemently resented the notion that they needed rescuing. In their eyes, they didn't need rescuing, they just needed more personnel and supplies. "All I care about", he said, "is that they broke through, the supply lines are gonna get restored and the wounded evacuated to the rear. I don't care about the whole heroics shit."
That proclamation coaxed another, slightly brighter smile from the young woman. "I don't either", she agreed. "I'll go and see if they have supplies for us."
She turned to leave, but found her path blocked by a certain blonde sniper. "You are not going anywhere before you've had some food", Louise decided.
"Louise-", Mia began, but her aborted protest was summarily ignored as a hand landed on her shoulder while a bowl of something was shoved into her hands.
"Eat", the Brit ordered.
Blue eyes searched her face for a brief moment before they dropped to the warm contents of the bowl. "I'll eat on the way." She scooped a spoonful into her mouth. "I must find the Third Army's supply officer."
Louise shook her head. "They won't disappear into thin air within the next ten minutes", she said, her words interspersed with coughs. "So you might as well eat now and find them later." She released her friend's shoulder now that she was satisfied that the other woman wasn't going to slip away without eating.
Recognising that there was no deterring Louise when she'd put her mind to something, Mia let herself be led over to the improvised mess tent.
.
A small smattering of men sat on logs and tree stumps, mainly silent save for a few scraps of conversation floating back and forth as they ate. They looked up when Louise and Mia joined them, greeting the two women with varying levels of cheer and tiredness.
"Let's sit down over there." Louise motioned towards one of the logs with a tilt of her head.
"I'm almost finished, Louise", Mia said quietly. "I need to get our supplies."
Louise glanced into the bowl and tsked. "You're not even halfway done", she pointed out. She placed a hand on her elbow to lead her to the log. "Come on, you're on your feet all day long, running around looking after everyone. Sitting down to eat won't hurt."
The medic ducked her tousle-haired head and mumbled a soft: "I know. But I'm going to fall asleep when I sit down."
Louise paused. Her intent gaze softened with understanding. "All the more reason for you to sit down and take a break. I'll wake you if you nod off."
Chewing on her cracked and bloody bottom lip, Mia eventually relented with a small nod. "Okay."
Before long, Mia had finished her food. She quickly got to her feet, taking a half-step to the side to cover for the wave of dizziness making her head spin. She smiled her thanks at Louise, tucking her hands into her pockets to preserve the warmth of the bowl.
"Now let's track down that supply officer", Louise said, shouldering her rifle. "And then you, my friend, are going to get some sleep because frankly, you look like something chewed you up and spit you out again. Twice."
Mia's mouth twitched at the image, but she didn't offer anything in reply apart from a vague, non-committal hum.
.
It took a while, but eventually, she had secured a crate of medical supplies for her company. They had sulfa, morphine, a limited supply of penicillin, even some aspirin and magnesium tablets. Bandages, burn kits, plasma, gauze. Nothing fancy, but it would do the job.
Dividing everything up between the three of them, they agreed to store the plasma and penicillin in "their" foxhole – in actuality, it was Spina and Gene's hole, though, as Mia had a tendency to drift from one foxhole to the next, rotating between a select few people to share such a cramped space with.
"We're hardly there anyway", Spina joked with that bleak gallows humour that all military personnel seemed to share. "No better place for it."
Hiking up her shoulders against the icy draught slipping its needle-like fingers through their ODs, Mia said: "I'll make the rounds now."
Gene dipped his head in acceptance, but told her to get some sleep. "You've been up most of the night."
"Okay", she agreed despite the reluctance – or was it hesitation? – lingering around her eyes. "Louise will yell at me if I don't."
The two men chuckled and Mia left with a parting smile, the creak of fresh snow under paratrooper boots fading into the distance.
Maxine rolled her shoulders and rubbed at the knotted muscles at the base of her neck, releasing a tired sigh. It seemed to her like the entire battalion was indignant at having been "saved" as it was, the soldiers complaining and grousing at every corner. Some had nearly gotten into arguments with Patton's men and she'd just about had it with their testosterone and grandstanding.
"Bunch of idiots", she muttered under her breath, feeling her head throb with the aggravation that had built up inside her.
She was exhausted, her skin and scalp itched with dirt and sweat and her uniform could only be described as grimy. Her eyes constantly stung from lack of sleep and there was a thick clump of sickness resting in her stomach from all the deaths and wounded.
Despite her annoyance, the Washingtonian couldn't truly be mad at her friends. They had held out against the enemy; they had defeated the odds. So they did have the right to brag, to talk themselves up a little. The brutal reality of their situation would slam back into them all soon enough, Maxine knew.
Walking between the foxholes, she talked to her men. Her nerves, frayed from days upon days of fighting, weathering shelling after shelling, settled as she chatted and joked with her guys.
.
When she'd first been handed her commission, she'd worried that it would destroy her relationship with her friends. That becoming their superior in rank meant they'd stop seeing her as their equal.
She'd told Lipton of her worry and the kind man had smiled and reassured her that the guys would never do that.
"To the soldiers, you'll be Lieutenant Lloyd because that's what you are to the Army", he'd explained. "But to your friends, to them you will always be Max. The woman they've loved, admired and respected since Toccoa."
He had been right, as usual. Maxine still shared the same companionship, the same camaraderie, the same bonds with these men and women. Still bantered with them, let them tease her and responded in kind. She still listened to their grumblings, grievances and sorrows, offered advice or just a sympathetic ear. She still chided them for stupid stunts and settled arguments, still looked out for them just as they looked out for her.
.
"You alright, Maxine?"
The lieutenant blinked, dragging herself out of her musings to focus on the cornflower-blue eyes and cigar-studded smile. "Sorry, Bull, just got lost in thought."
He studied her for a moment, critical but not doubtful. Then, he waved it off, good-natured as always. "Nothing to worry about, Max", he assured her easily. "You've got a lot on your mind."
A soft huff made its way up her throat. "Yeah…" She shook her head. "Though I have to say, some of our problems have been or will soon be solved now that we're no longer completely surrounded."
Bull hummed contemplatively, agreeing that their lack of food, ammo and winter clothing would likely be remedied as soon as they got communications with the supply dumps restored. He held his tongue about their lack of senior leadership, but Maxine was a smart and perceptive woman, so he wasn't overly surprised when a rueful, knowing smile tilted her lips.
"I wish I knew where Lt Dike went all the time, Bull", she said quietly, her words accompanied by a haphazard, graceless shrug that offset her inherent poise and sophisticated countenance. "But we manage and not too badly."
"Well, we got good lieutenants", he told her, nothing but truth ringing in the compliment.
She smiled at him, her natural beauty shining through the dirt, cold and exhaustion smudged across her delicate features. "Who'd be lost without the amazing NCOs."
It was something Maxine made a point of mentioning every once in a while. Without their non-coms, the entire company would fall apart. They were the ones that led patrols, checked on their guys, organised guard and OP shift rotations. The best officers in the world wouldn't be able to get much done without good NCOs. And Easy – as far as Maxine was concerned – had most outstanding ones. Toccoa guys, every last one of them.
Bull matched her smile and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You oughta know, Max", he drawled, a twinkle in his blue eyes. "You were one yourself."
"Why Bull, I never took you for a flatterer", she batted her eyelashes, genuinely touched by his words.
He laughed. "Ain't nothing but the truth."
.
As she finished her rounds a good hour later, Maxine passed Grant's foxhole and paused.
Chuck smiled at her when he noticed what had caught her attention. "She looked dead on her feet", he whispered.
Maxine's brow rose and she muttered: "She still does."
Tucked into Chuck's side, curled up with her knees to her chest and her bag resting on her hip, was Mia. The black rings under her closed eyes and the faint purple tint of her lips made her face look thin and hollow. Her skin was a few shades too white to be healthy, her scars from Nuenen all but invisible against the pallor of her features. Only the faint pink ones stood out prominently, dusting over her cheek and chin.
"Probably the first real sleep she's gotten in days", Chuck murmured, displeasure pinching his lips at the thought. They both knew it couldn't be far from the truth.
By virtue of being quiet and difficult to read, Mia easily faded into the background. Out of all the medics, she was best at hiding her own exhaustion or pain and for some reason – they had their theories, though none of them were confirmed – also most likely to use that skill to keep working when others would have long since passed out from utter overexertion.
"How'd you get her to sleep?", Maxine wondered. For all her soft-spoken and shifty-eyed mannerisms, the messy-haired girl possessed an incredibly strong will and an alarming disregard for her own health.
He shrugged, looking rather pleased. "I said I'd wake her in an hour or two."
She smiled, eyes travelling over the thin figure burrowed against his side. Even though there was still tension in every line of her body, Mia looked terribly young in her sleep. Much younger than her 20 years. Much as the younger woman hid it, Maxine knew that she was shaken up by Catherine getting wounded.
"I probably would have told her that Lt Speirs would kill us if we didn't take care of her", she commented.
Chuck lifted an eyebrow. "Guilt-tripping? Didn't think you'd go for that."
Maxine grinned and pretended to toss her hair. "Of course", she said with a haughty sniff. "My mother is a diplomat's wife, I learned from the best."
He chuckled and she left after quietly thanking him for looking out for the girl.
With the supply line restored, shipments of ammo, food, winter clothing, medical supplies and just about everything else Easy had been going without came through days later. They were still saddled with Dike as CO and the strain of responsibility was taking its toll on the remaining officers, especially since they were missing their XO as well since Welsh had been wounded.
A wave of replacements fresh from the boat arrived to bolster the battalion's diminished ranks and the company was reorganised, squads and platoons reshuffled to distribute seasoned veterans and green-as-grass new kids as effectively as possible.
Theresa was one of the unlucky ones who ended up with mostly replacements.
"Don't worry, Sarge", Cobb told her with a muted smirk, "we can handle this." He was one of the guys that remained in her squad, along with Pace and Herron. While Herron was still relatively new, Pace already had Market Garden under his belt and had shaped up into a fine soldier.
She nodded, observing as Pace instructed their newbies on how to dig a proper foxhole. "Yeah, we'll manage. Try not to break any of them, please?"
"Hey, you know me", the man shot back, spreading gloved hands in mock-indignation.
She gave him a deadpan look. "Exactly."
He snorted, but took the point. He wasn't exactly known for his patience or approachable manner.
.
Another simple but vital thing Easy had sorely missed were letters from home. With them no longer cut off from all sides, mail finally reached them. News from their families and friends back stateside, from family members on deployment in other parts of the war, a tether to the life they had left behind in order to fight.
In Fox Company, James Pescini crowed in delight as he read the letter from his brother, who had recently become a father. "I'm an uncle", he marvelled, staring at the picture his cousin had sent with the letter. "I have a niece."
The entire company cooed over the photograph and showered the newly minted uncle with congratulations.
"She has my sister-in-law's eyes", he boasted, beaming with pride. "And the Pescini face."
Showing the picture to Audrey and Cassandra, he immediately dissolved into an excited rush of Maori, the words spilling out with machine gun speed.
Cassandra shook her head with a warm smile as Audrey happily dropped into the language of her parents. She only understood maybe one word out of twenty, but it was easy to guess that they were both gushing over the admittedly adorable tiny human bundle in the photo.
Later, in the privacy of their foxhole, she turned to her Kiwi comrade and asked: "Do you want children?"
Startled, Audrey looked at her, dark eyes roving across her face in search of an explanation. "What?"
"Kids, Ray", the South Dakotan repeated. "Do you want to have them?"
"I mean…" Audrey floundered to regain her equilibrium. "I guess someday, yes. Why?"
Cassandra shrugged, snuggling closer under the blanket. "Just a thought."
A soft huff hung in the air between them. "You're usually better at lying, Celia."
She smiled. "That's only because I love you."
Audrey's hand moved to squeeze her thigh. "Aroha ahau ki a koe", she hummed back, settling her head on Cassandra's shoulder.
.
Louise nearly gave Alley and Liebgott a heart attack when she suddenly burst into hysteric giggles that quickly turned into a coughing fit. She doubled over hacking and choking to the backdrop of Liebgott cursing irreverently as the two men braced her while she nearly brought up a lung. Even though she had no air left to spare, the sniper couldn't contain her laughter.
Her parents' divorce had been finalised and she was now the official owner of the house even though she had told them to sell it since she'd always considered her home to be more with her Gramps and her cousins.
The paragraph that had sent her into fits of hilarity had come from her mother, appealing to her not to make any rash decisions.
My darling, her mother had written, do not let your emotions cloud your judgement. I understand how difficult this must be for you. The house is yours to do with as you please, but I must urge you to let reason prevail.
"Let reason prevail", she gasped out between wheezing coughs that drove tears to her eyes. "Has she met me?"
Alley patted her on the back to help dislodge the phlegm congesting her lungs. "Sounds like she didn't", was his blunt assessment.
The Brit got her breathing under control, still snickering. "What a joke. But well, she said it herself: I can do what I want with the house."
"Turn it into a pile of rubble?", Liebgott suggested, skimming over the letter. His eyebrows made a valiant attempt to climb towards his hairline at the amount of insincere, pretentious bullshit he was reading.
"That sounds like a marvellous idea. I'll be sure to invite you all, wouldn't be half as much fun on my own." Louise spat out the grossly gooey substance she'd coughed up, kicking snow over it. "Eugh."
.
Some yards down the line, Guarnere was on his way to Maxine's foxhole to give her a report on the platoon. And to have a chat, of course. As such, he was at first completely taken aback and then absolutely appalled and outraged when he found her crying.
"Max?"
She sniffled and hastily swiped a sleeve across her face. "Hey Guarnere", she managed, new tears already replacing the ones she'd wiped away.
His eyes zeroed in on the letter she held between shaking fingers. "Alright, sunshine", he demanded, dropping in next to her, "who do I gotta kill?"
A choked laugh – more of a sob, really – tumbled from her chapped lips and she assured him: "It's not like that."
"Well sorry if I ain't buying that", he declared, levelling her with a look. "What with you sittin' here all snot and tears. So, who're we gonna kill?"
The fierce protectiveness made Maxine smile. She wiped her eyes again and took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was steadier than before, closer to normal. "Bill, really, it's not how it looks. Let me explain."
Wide eyes peered at him beseechingly, holding a sort of innocent, pleading vulnerability that made his breath catch in his throat. He crossed his arms and settled back. "A'right, but this better be good. I ain't making no promises yet, you hear?"
She gave him a nod and a small smile, gathering her thoughts.
.
"I told you about my family. How I'm at odds with them and that my father especially insisted I should come home before I got hurt or worse, damaged their reputation."
Bill nodded, keeping a sneer at bay. "Yeah." He didn't offer his opinion on her father since she already knew it. He'd made his feelings on the matter quite clear the first time she'd told him of her difficult relationship with her family.
"My brother and sister always stuck with me. It was us against the world. When I- when I told them that I'd signed up, they were so supportive. Worried, but supportive." The brunette sniffled and shook her head. "They wrote so many letters, always telling me how proud they were and how Father was an idiot about this whole thing. But when I wrote home to tell them that I'd gotten a field-commission to lieutenant, they… they just never wrote back."
Bill suppressed another swell of anger, remembering Maxine's betrayed and heartbroken expression when they'd talked about it one night in early November, back in Mourmelon.
"Well", Maxine continued, gesturing to the letter that now sat in her lap. "Turns out, they didn't-" She broke off, voice fraying around the edges. Clearing her throat, she tried again: "They didn't turn their backs on me. They just couldn't write back because Father wouldn't allow it."
He jerked upright, unable to contain a gasp of pure outrage. "What?!", he hollered. Oh, he was going to murder that man!
She grimaced a smile. "It took them a few weeks to figure out that Father had instructed the house staff to bring all of Cassandra and Nathaniel's letters to him."
"He didn't!"
"He did. Nathaniel found out purely by chance when he went to borrow some stationery." She huffed a small laugh. "He was furious, wanted to confront Father immediately. Mother and Cassandra convinced him that feigning ignorance and sending letters to me clandestinely was the way to do it."
He frowned, not seeing the benefit of this subterfuge. "I'd have punched that bastard in the face", he said hotly, angry on his friend's behalf. How dare that man put Max, his own daughter, through such misery?!
"I know." Maxine smiled at him, that gorgeous, sincere smile that was always so infectious. Her long fingers tapped the letter, happiness and relief letting her hazel eyes shine like autumn leaves in the sun. "But I don't care about that. My brother and sister still love me and they said they were really proud of me."
Bill's scowl melted away in the face of her joy. He slung his arm around her shoulders. "I'm happy for ya", he told her. "You really needed some good fuckin' news."
"Yeah", she chuckled. "True."
"And besides", he continued, nudging her and grinning when she nudged back, "even if they did turn their backs on ya – which would make them just as stupid and blind as your old man –, we're here for you. We all love you and we're all hella proud that you got that promotion. God knows you deserved it."
She teared up again at his heartfelt declaration. "Thank you, Bill", she choked out, planting a small peck on her friend's cheek before she drew him into a hug.
"Anytime, Max." He affectionately patted her on the back, vowing to pay Mr Ignatius Lloyd a visit as soon as he got stateside to give the pompous asshole of a snob a piece of his mind. He'd show that stuffy old goat just how much his daughter – his smart, assertive, brave, loyal daughter – meant to the men and women of Easy company.