Shout-out to kingmanaena for urging me to update! I had absolutely no idea that it has already been another three weeks... work has been stupidly hectic and I even ended up working most of Easter (despite my superior reassuring me the same day "Oh these past few years, we've never had any jobs come in for over the Easter weekend". Mhm, right... that's why I worked three out of those four days).

This chapter is a bit short, but I couldn't find a better place to stop before it got too long. I have written ahead a little more and am currently trying to build up the courage to tackle the events of January 9 and then progress to Foy and beyond. Some scenes are already sketched/written, but currently, the transition scenes are being a real pain in my neck.

As always, ideas and suggestions are welcome, as is feedback and constructive criticism. I'm super excited that you enjoy my story and writing, so feel free to let me know what I should improve on.

January 3 began with surprising news for First platoon. Lt Peacock was being sent home. Division had issued a 30-day furlough to one officer from each company that had taken part in the 'heroic defence' of Bastogne. They would be shipped home to drum up enthusiasm for the war bond drive. Rumour had it that initially, Captain Nixon had been the one chosen by the divisional leaders, but had turned it down on the grounds of "I've already seen the States, I grew up there".

So Captain Winters had selected Lieutenant Peacock to go in his stead.

First Platoon was delighted. As nice and dedicated as Peacock was, he wasn't exactly leadership material. Fidgety and unsure, he either struggled to make a crucial decision or had trouble with as simple tasks as holding a map the right way round.

.

Theresa had to bite down hard on the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing. The guys were taking the words "double entendre" to a whole new level when they congratulated Peacock on his luck and bid him farewell.

"Really glad you're going home", Luz said with a smile. For all intents and purposes, he was in fact telling the truth.

Peacock beamed, genuinely touched by how happy they were for him.

"Best news I've heard in weeks", Christenson added, grinning widely as he shook the man's hand. "Hell of a guy."

Stepping forward to say goodbye to her platoon leader as well, Theresa shook hands with Peacock. "Congratulations, lieutenant. It'll be quite different around here without you." She hid a smirk when Perconte made a choked noise behind her.

Peacock remained blissfully unaware of the joke. He smiled brightly at her and professed: "Aw thank you, this means a lot, you know?"

.

After the lieutenant had left, the rumbling of the jeep fading into the distance, the assembled soldiers looked at each other and broke down into helpless laughter.

"We're horrible", Theresa managed between swells of laughs pushing up from her chest. "Bless him, he didn't have a clue." She turned to Christenson and tried to summon a disapproving glare despite knowing that she'd fail spectacularly. "Best news I've heard all week?", she quoted, dissolving into another burst of giggles.

Bull guffawed and clapped her on the shoulder. "Well, you ain't been much better, Reese, telling him it was gonna be different without him."

She shrugged, wiping tears of hilarity from her eyes. "It wasn't a lie", she defended, which sent them into another round of hoots and cackles.

The pale fog of noon saw a good dozen of them clustered around the small clearing where Joe Domingus had set up shop. Purple-lipped and shivering, Louise plonked herself into a free spot next to Liebgott, grumbling about the indescribably pointless exercise that had been her last recon mission. "All I got out of this shit is another pair of wet socks."

He just snickered, earning himself a shove and a tired, grey-eyed glare.

The return of one of their own caused a small commotion by the food line. Joe Toye had left the aid station after having been hit in the arm by flying shrapnel on New Year's Eve. "Joe Toye, back for more!", Muck crowed as they welcomed him back.

Spotting Mia lingering at the outskirts of the little group, Toye caught her questioning look and gave her a reassuring nod. He was fine. Relief lit up her face and she came over to say hello as well.

"It's good you're back", she said, patting his elbow and smiling when he flicked an overlong strand of her duck fluff hair from her eyes. Accepting her cup of the 'gruel de jour', as Ana María had labelled their food, Mia drifted away with another feather-light touch of her hand against Toye's arm.

.

A replacement asked: "Where'd you get hit?"

Toye turned, raising his eyebrows and looking the kid up and down. "What's this?"

"Ah that's Webb", Skip supplied easily. "Replacement."

"Really? Thought it was some guy I've known for two years and I forgot his face", he dead-panned, making the veterans chuckle.

Penkala took pity on the replacement, who looked out of place amidst the seasoned soldiers. "Joe got hit in the arm. New Year's Eve gift from the Luftwaffe."

With a mighty impressed expression on his face, Webb wanted to know if a lot of them had been injured.

"It's called wounded, peanut", Johnny explained in the tone of an exasperated high school teacher. "Injured is when you fall out of a tree or something."

Grinning crookedly and trading a mischievous glance with his buddies, Skip assured the new guy: "Don't worry, there's enough crap flying around here, you're bound to get dinked some time."

Sweeping his hand in an encompassing gesture at the men and women scattered across the various logs and tree stumps in the clearing, he added: "Almost every single one of these guys has been hit at least once." He paused briefly. "Except for Alley, he's a two-time. He landed on broken glass in Normandy and got peppered by a potato masher in Holland."

.

Chuckles and teasing jabs served as the backdrop for Skip's cheerful showboating as he detailed for Webb's benefit the many and varied injuries they had sustained over the course of the war.

"Now Liebgott, that skinny little guy? He got pinged in the neck in Holland."

The man in question quirked his lips into a smirk and continued eating.

Skip pointed at the blonde sitting next to Liebgott, making her arch a brow. "Louise got some shrapnel in the shoulder in Normandy. Taught us all a bunch of new swears, that one."

She shrugged unapologetically, smile tugging at the corner of her mouth even as she flipped him off with a rude gesture.

Skip laughed, unperturbed, and continued: "And right next to them, that other skinny little guy, that's Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Holland."

Webb already felt his head starting to spin with all the names and stories he was hearing. He had only been with the company for a scant few days and for them to talk so casually about what must have been painful injuries… it was quite the reality check, to say the least.

"And uh, Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland", Malarkey chimed in, motioning towards the tow-headed lieutenant. Buck took it in stride, turning, lifting the lapels of his coat and putting a finger right on one of the entry wounds.

Penkala snorted drily. "Yeah, kind of an Easy company tradition, being shot in the ass."

.

Muck spoke up again, gesturing with his spoon. "Hey, even First Sergeant Lipton over there. He got a couple pieces of a tank shell burst in Carentan. One chunk in the face, another chunk almost took out his nuts."

Indulgent as ever, Lip just shook his head, a fond smile on his face as he busied himself with his food. Guarnere sidled up to him, an angelic look on his face that didn't fool him in the slightest, and asked: "How are those nuts, Sarge?"

"Doing fine Bill", he responded evenly, "nice of you to ask."

Over the ensuing laughter, Luz piped up: "Now fellas, let's not forget our Lieutenant Lloyd over there!" – He pointed towards her, eyes glinting with fond teasing – "She got herself almost blown up in Carentan when she was a squad sergeant."

He winked at her. "Got your bell rung pretty good, ain't that right, Max?"

The tall, pretty woman gave a good-natured shrug from where she sat and said with a laugh: "My ears were ringing so much, I couldn't see even see straight."

Malarkey leaned over and commented in a conspiratorial stage-whisper: "And she still walked out of the aid station two hours later when orders to move out came."

Webb was beginning to wonder if sneaking away from the aid station was also a company tradition.

In the afternoon, Easy moved back to their old position, relieving the elements of 1st Battalion that had held that particular stretch of the line while they had been sent to clear various sectors of the Bois Jacques. A handful of men, however, were staying behind, temporarily attached to D Company. The rest of Easy, of course, didn't pass up the opportunity to take the mickey out of them as they trailed past their foxhole.

"Good luck, ladies", Guarnere offered with a shit-eating grin.

Toye left it at an ominous "Been nice knowing you."

Nodding to Perconte and trading a look with Christenson, Ana María advised them not to drink too much, giggling as her fellow radio operator shot back: "If you're hiding hooch up those big-ass sleeves of yours, I'm gonna shoot you."

"Hey", Malarkey added, "be careful if he offers you a cigarette."

Webb bemusedly looked back and forth between them. "What are they talking about? If who offers us a cigarette?"

"Speirs", Christenson explained absently, scraping dirt off the sights of his machine gun.

It did little to clear the replacement's confusion. "Who?"

"Lieutenant Speirs", Louise supplied, pale eyes roving over their equally pale, fog-shrouded surroundings. "He's a platoon leader in Dog Company."

"The stories are probably mostly bullshit anyway", Christenson said, drawing a doubtful scoff from Perconte, who was busy squeezing tooth paste onto his tooth brush.

Curiosity quickly flickered into unease as Webb wanted to know what stories they meant.

Rolling his eyes, Perconte said: "Well, supposedly, Speirs shot one of his own men for being drunk."

Webb's jaw dropped. "You're kidding! That's unbelievable!"

"Yeah and there's another one about him giving cigarettes to 20 German POWs before killing them", Christenson added, turning his back to them so he could affix the machine gun to its tripod.

"He shot 20 POWs?", Webb repeated, aghast.

Perconte shook his head. "Well actually, I heard it was more like 30."

Sparing them a glance, Louise huffed out a breath, but kept silent as she spotted the man in question heading towards them.

.

"Christenson."

Louise schooled her features into neutrality, hurriedly smothering the grin threatening to break out at the sudden nervousness spreading on Perconte's features.

"Lieutenant Speirs", Christenson acknowledged, turning back to look at him.

The infamous officer crouched down at the lip of their hole, gun easily resting across his thighs. "I got the name right, didn't I?", he checked, sharp eyes focused on him. "Christenson?"

"Yes sir."

The intense gaze travelled over them, settling on Louise. "What are you men doing out here?"

The sniper met his eyes calmly as she replied: "Watching the line, sir." She noticed the slight tightening of his bottom lip at the sound of her voice and was inclined to agree. She still sounded horrible, hoarse like a strangled rooster.

Speirs swept a cursory look over the line and nodded his assent. "Keep up the good work", he said, tacking on: "While you're at it, you might wanna reinforce your cover."

Since apparently the men had tacitly decided to let Louise handle the talking, she explained how Lt Dike had told them not to bother as they'd only be there one day. While her expression remained unchanged, her tone made it plain what she thought of that.

"Lieutenant Dike said that, hm?"

Perconte nodded mutely around his tooth brush.

Speirs tilted his head. "Well, then forget what I said. Carry on. Fields, your presence is requested at the CP."

"Yes sir." Louise climbed out of the foxhole, giving Christenson a pat on the shoulder.

.

Speirs got up, his movements a vaguely unsettling combination of swift and idle, and turned to leave. After a few steps, he stopped and turned back. "Oh, anyone care for a smoke?"

Louise fought back a laugh. He was definitely messing with them now, adding fuel to the fire with a blank face.

"I'll take one", she said, trying not to grin.

A brief glance behind her confirmed her expectation of her friends' reactions. Christenson looked tense but respectful, Perconte startled and like he'd just choked on his tooth brush and Webb seemed too busy picking his jaw off the floor to do anything else.

They left towards the CP, Louise digging out her zippo from the depths of her pockets to light their smokes, first Speirs', then her own. "You know, sir", she began leisurely as they walked, "you're a devious man."

That earned her a raised eyebrow. "Really?", Speirs asked, his voice not giving anything away.

"Well, if anything, you've got one sure-fire way to make sure you never have to share your smokes."

He shot her an amused look, but didn't respond verbally. Louise didn't mind. Silence had never bothered her.