Hello everyone! Jeesh, I am so sorry for just dropping off the face of the Earth for a month. I wanted to update this story two weeks ago, but then I blinked and suddenly, it's July. At least I'm no longer working from home (Hallelujah!).$
Please let me know how you liked the chapter. I jump back and forth between perspectives quite a bit, so I apologise in advance if that is confusing.
The barrage in the night of 9 – 10 January hit everyone hard. Especially Malarkey. Within the span of a week, he'd lost five of his best friends. Two of them were dead. Muck and Penkala had been killed by a direct hit to their foxhole, the only recognisable thing left being half of Skip's rosary.
Malarkey was devastated and though he declined the offer to go and work as Winters' runner for a few days back at battalion, he openly expressed his gratitude and relief when Maxine told him a day later that Lipton would act as platoon sergeant for 2nd platoon, at least for a little while.
"Hell, Max, between you and Lip, we might actually stand a chance when we go into Foy", he said. It was the first time he'd made a joke since hearing the news of Skip and Alex's deaths and while it fell somewhat flat, Maxine chuckled.
"Well", she responded with the intimation of a curtsy, "I aim to please."
The smile he gave her was small and dim and didn't quite reach his eyes, but she was glad to see it nonetheless.
Two days later, Dog Company welcomed back its only female member. After getting shot in the leg by a lone, lost German soldier, Esther had spent two weeks in hospital before deciding that she'd done enough lying around and being pampered while her friends were dying in the snow.
A stern nurse had intercepted her when she'd tried to sneak out in the middle of the night, but faced with one determined Esther Bowman, she soon let the still limping paratrooper have her way. Esther had argued her way out of the hospital and onto a transport. When the transport reached regimental headquarters of the 506 PIR, she once more argued her way onto a jeep going out to the front lines and at the battalion CP, she argued a runner into pointing her towards her company.
"Afternoon, gents", she greeted her friends with a grin, ignoring how many familiar faces weren't there anymore. "Miss me?"
"The fuck are you doing here, Bowman?", Lipinski hollered, clambering from his foxhole to shake her hand.
Kapopoulos clapped her on the back and told the replacements that were looking on in confusion: "She got shot in the leg before Christmas. Jessup from F Company had to haul her all the way to Easy's CP."
"Aw, thanks for making me sound like the laziest piece of dead weight, Steve."
"Anything for you, Esther."
She smirked. "Except help me with my webbing before a drop."
Those that had jumped into Holland during Market Garden laughed and Kapopoulos shrugged in a 'what's a guy to do?' sort of way, snickering over what had by now become a running joke between the two of them.
.
Sergeant Caracea eventually broke up the welcoming party, shooing the cheered-up soldiers back to their positions. "Good to have you back."
"Thanks, Sarge."
"Are you sure you should be back, though?", he asked, eyeing the way she favoured her left leg.
Esther nodded resolutely. "Yes sir. It won't be a problem. I swear."
He accepted it after a moment of scrutinising her, sending her to share a foxhole with Gnazzo. "Don't get too comfortable, though", he advised. "We're moving against Foy in a day or so."
She shot him a droll look. "And here I was planning to do some redecorating."
Snorting a laugh, he shook his head and repeated: "Glad to have you back, Esther." Her return – and her brand of humour – were great for morale.
"Glad to be back."
The plans to attack Foy solidified and Easy Company was set to lead the charge. The problem was that they did not have a leader. Maxine knew this as well as everyone else and when Lipton approached her the night before the attack, a deep frown on his face, she didn't have to guess twice what had him worried.
"Ma'am? Do you have a minute?", he asked, waiting patiently for her to dismiss the runner that had brought her a dispatch from HQ.
She nodded at the private and turned to him. "Of course."
They moved out of hearing distance of the foxholes before Lipton cleared his throat and began: "Ma'am, I have every confidence in the men. And in you. But… "
The tall brunette listened patiently to what he had to say, staying quiet as he explained that he had no confidence in the CO and that he thought Dike was going to get a lot of them killed tomorrow.
"…and that's what I told Captain Winters", he finished. "But there's nothing he can do."
.
Maxine sighed heavily and smothered a cough in the crook of her elbow, bobbing her head in acknowledgement of his words. "Yes, I know. I've told him of my own concerns regarding Lt Dike. Unfortunately, the man is too well-connected for the captain to just replace him."
She clucked her tongue. "I still think it's good that you told Captain Winters, Lip."
His brows furrowed even further. "Yeah?"
"Yeah", she affirmed with conviction. "It's one thing coming from me, but you and Shifty are the last men who'd ever openly speak negatively over a superior, so it carries a lot of weight if you declare somebody unfit to lead."
A small smile tilted his lips and he thanked her before apologising for going over her head.
The lieutenant waved it off with a delicate huff. "Don't worry about it. I agree with everything you said and I completely support your assessment."
"Thank you, ma'am."
The plan wasn't overly complicated. Under the covering fire of two machine gun sections, Easy would move across the open field into Foy, 3rd Battalion coming from the east with I Company in the lead. Move in before the enemy could get his artillery ready, then clear the town.
Of course, there were several unpredictable factors like the weather, whether they would be quick enough to cross the field before the Germans could blast them with mortars, whether the distraction of a two-prong assault would be effective etc.
And whether Norman Dike would step up to the plate and do what he so far had failed to do: lead.
"Keep moving!", Theresa called to her squad, voice sharp over the rattling MGs. She hated how exposed they were and within the first few yards. One of her new kids had already dropped. She didn't know if he was still alive. She couldn't stop to check.
She heard her words echoed by Foley behind her and Lipton and Maxine to her left. "Let's go, Herron! C'mon, keep moving!"
Bullets whizzed through the air and mortar shells punched craters into the snow-dusted earth. Theresa veered sharply to the right when the man in front of her collapsed mid-stride.
Up ahead, a few Germans relinquished their defensive positions and retreated into a hut just behind the fence.
"Krauts in the open!", somebody shouted.
Liebgott aimed his rifle at the barn as 1st Platoon moved around him, closing in on the town to find cover. "Three inside!", he reported to Foley.
.
Over with 2nd platoon, Dike suddenly stopped. "Wait a minute. Where's Foley? Where the hell is 1st Platoon?", he cried.
Luz, who as radio op was on the CO's heels, cast a glance around them, supremely uneasy out in the open like that.
Ahead of them, Maxine was spurring on the stragglers of her platoon. "Keep moving! Let's go!"
"EASY COMPANY! HOLD UP!"
Her head whipped around at the scream, eyes immediately pinpointing their commander, Luz hovering behind him. Dread flooded her chest as she called for her platoon to hold up, Lipton relaying her order to the vanguard.
God in Heaven… "Find some cover! Move!", she shouted as the gunfire narrowed in on her men where they were lying and crouching in the snow, drab ODs dark against the white backdrop. "You're sitting ducks, move!"
.
Pressed against the side of a dented wheelbarrow, Theresa swore as a ricochet bounced off the metal with a reverberating clang that set her teeth on edge.
"First platoon, hold up! Hold up!", Foley called suddenly. "Take cover! Martin!"
A look let the platoon sergeant know that he'd be in charge and a simple "Sir!" was all it took for him to confirm that message.
Foley rushed off towards 2nd platoon, to figure out what the hell Dike was thinking, Theresa guessed. Oh Lord.
A volley of ear-splitting clangs had her ducking lower, ice-cold metal biting into her side as she tried to locate the shooter. Shit!
.
Now hidden from the direct line of fire by a large haystack, Dike screamed left and right: "Fall back!"
Maxine looked around, assessing the situation. The enemy had them pretty much zeroed. Mortars flung soldiers into the air like puppets, the ground shook under the force of the explosions. "Goddamn it."
She got up, wheeled around and called: "Lipton, on me!"
"Behind you, ma'am!"
"2nd platoon, hold fast! Find cover!"
With Lipton right behind her, she pelted back to where the other platoon leaders had already assembled around the frantic CO. "Why are we stopped?", she demanded, sliding in next to Luz, who was speaking rapidly into the radio.
"Lieutenant, what's the plan?", Foley pressed.
"I don't know, I don't know!", Dike cried.
Wide-eyed, Maxine glanced at Lipton, who looked equally disturbed by the hysteric edge in the man's tone.
Under the combined pressure of the three platoon leaders, the First Sergeant and his radio operator, Dike got himself together enough to do something other than wail frantically at everyone to fall back.
"Okay", he muttered, trying to straighten his slumped posture. "Okay. Foley. Foley!–" His voice climbed into a shout over the gunfire and shelling the Germans threw at them–"You take your men-" He broke off and Maxine fought back the urge to scream. "You take your men on a flanking mission around the mission and attack it from the rear!"
.
The moment of stunned disbelief was lost in a rain of dirt, ice and debris that mortar hits spewed up.
"We can not stay here!", Lipton bellowed while Foley clarified: "You want 1st platoon to go around and attack the village by itself?!"
"We will provide suppressing fire", Dike told him, as if that solved the problem.
Luz rolled his eyes. Maxine couldn't blame him.
Foley frowned and remarked acerbically: "We're gonna be kind of alone out there, lieutenant."
"We will provide suppressing fire!" Dike slammed down his fist. He sounded moments away from bursting into tears.
.
Biting back several choice words, Foley got to his feet and made the dash back to his platoon. They were hunkered down behind the ramshackle barn, guns at the ready, waiting for orders.
"Okay", he began, falling into a crouch next to Johnny. "Here it is: we go on a flanking run around the back of the village and we attack from the rear."
It was a disastrous plan.
Shindell was shot down the second he moved out into the open. Webb moved up to replace him, shimmying under the wire fence to reach an abandoned cart. Up on the bell tower, the Kraut MGs shifted their fire. Bullets riddled the ground.
"Suppressing fire!", Theresa ordered her squad, aiming for the muzzle flashes of the machine gun.
They returned fire and a moment later, the rest of the company also opened up on the enemy.
"Nolan! Go!" With a jerk of his head, Johnny had her move up.
Theresa flattened herself against the picket fence. A single bullet buried itself in the wood, inches away from her shoulder. Splinters sharp as nails scraped along her jaw.
Perconte ducked low to reload, only to fall over with a strangled cry.
Sniper, Theresa realised with a jolt. She emptied her clip in the direction of the persistent machine gun fire, then chanced the short dash across to cover Ramirez, who was holding on to Perconte and keeping him low.
"How you doing, Perconte?", Johnny called from Theresa's earlier position.
"They shot me in my ass, Martin!", the wounded man shouted back, face chalky from the pain and cold.
.
"I think we lost five men!", came Foley's voice over the radio. "Can you locate?"
Lipton shook his head, frowning against his binoculars. "Negative."
Knowing that they didn't stand a chance otherwise, Maxine took charge. "Fields!", she shouted over the din of gunfire, "Locate that sniper! Alley, mortars on that bell tower!"
"Ma'am!", they responded.
While she desperately tried to do damage control and hopefully salvage this absolute nightmare of a mission, Luz was still attempting to get Dike to talk to Captain Winters.
Lipton snapped at the CO: "Sir, we are sitting ducks here! We have to keep moving!"
Grabbing Dike by the sleeve, Maxine gave him a hard shake. "Sir, we need to move! Right now!"
The man just stared at her like she'd grown another head, his expression as vacant as she suspected his mind was at the moment.
Cursing, she turned to Lipton and said: "Lip, get everyone ready to move. Either we get a leader or we do this ourselves!"
He acknowledged with a sharp nod, gave her pat on her shoulder and hurried off under the covering fire of the surrounding men, passing along the order as he went.
.
With one last withering glance to the useless man next to her, Maxine snatched the receiver from Luz' outstretched hand, briefly looking at him before answering the urgent calls for their commanding officer. "Lieutenant Dike's indisposed! He-"
She cut herself off as another mortar shell landed close by. "Move!", she hollered to a few men still in the open. "Take cover, for fuck's sake!"
Gunfire spat earth and slush in all directions.
Maxine returned her attention to the radio, Captain Winters' voice insisting they move forward. "Sir, Dike froze up!", she reported, heart hammering in her throat. She tried to ignore how frantic she sounded. "We need a CO! Now!"
"Hang tight. Help's on its way."
Not bothering with a response, Maxine tossed the receiver back to Luz and went back to trying to keep the situation under control until the promised help arrived. "Louise, where's that sniper?!"
"The building with the caved-in roof", the Brit shouted back. "I can't get an angle!"
Luz relayed the information to the other platoons and they concentrated their fire on the sniper perch as best they could.
.
Taking a breath, Maxine turned back to the treeline. A solitary figure was sprinting across the field. Soon, he was close enough for her to recognise him and the ground steadied beneath her feet.
A tank shell zoomed past them and a fountain of dirt and smoke shot up. The soldier leapt over the crater without slowing down, not the least bit fazed. And then, he was there, skidding to a stop in front of Dike.
"I'm taking over", Lt Speirs announced without fanfare, not waiting for the stock-still Dike to react. "Lieutenant Lloyd, what've we got?"
"Sir, most of the company is spread out here", she supplied readily, "1st platoon tried an end-around but they're stretched out and pinned by a sniper. He's in the building with the caved-in roof."
He nodded, discerning gaze following her gestures and sweeping over the battlefield in a short second. "Alright", he said. "I want mortars and grenade launchers on that building 'til it's gone. When it's gone, I want First to go straight in, forget going around. Everybody else follow me."
"Yes sir."
Maxine traded a big grin with Luz before distributing orders and then following the CO. "2nd platoon on the CO!", she shouted, catching the look of sheer relief on Lipton's face when he recognised their new commander.
The tide of the battle turned. With the bell tower reduced to rubble curtesy of a well-aimed mortar shell and the sniper perch destroyed a few minutes later, First Platoon was free to advance. As soon as Lieutenant Foley gave the order to move out, Theresa jumped to her feet and rallied her squad.
They surged into the town and the Germans were driven back, not even their armoured infantry sufficient to stop the combined assault of the two battle-experienced battalions of paratroopers.
Amazing what you can achieve with a proper leader, Theresa thought as she watched their new CO confer with the platoon leaders. The battle was won, clean-up all but over.
"Hey Sarge, you in there?"
She turned to Liebgott. His sharkish smirk turned into a frown as he took in her expression and the bloody scratches on the side of her face and neck. "Whoa, you okay?"
"Sure." It came out sharper than she'd expected. "You seen Dike? I'd like to punch him into next year."
Liebgott stared at her, caught somewhere between startled surprise, concern and laughter.
Shaking her head with a sigh, she let out a soft chuckle and reached over to pat his arm. "I'm okay, Joe."
He raised an eyebrow, gave her a once-over. "You look like shit", he determined.
Theresa laughed and batted her eyelashes at him. "Such a charmer." She shook her head, smile lingering on her lips. "Now c'mon, let's find the rest of the guys."
.
Having lost four men of her squad in the attack on the town, Theresa didn't share the jubilant mood as everyone celebrated the liberation of Foy. But she didn't begrudge them their excitement. Lord knew that after a month of daily shelling and fighting, they deserved it.
She smiled as a cluster of men posing on top of a captured Panzer tank broke into song, the voices off-key but filled with the joy of having lived to see another day. Brown eyes roaming across the street, she spotted Frances and Ana María standing together, watching the spectacle with smiles on their faces while staying out of the focus of the film cameras.
A gunshot split the air.
Theresa flinched. Next to her, Herron crumpled. Something struck her shoulder and she choked on her breath.
"Sniper!", somebody cried, just as a second shot rang out and Mellet collapsed in a boneless heap.
Adrenaline surged through her veins, blowing the pain away. "Take cover!", she yelled, snatching Jackson by the arm and towing him with her. From the corner of her eyes, she caught Cobb behind her, two of her replacements following his lead.
.
Shoving Jackson into the hollowed entranceway of an abandoned building, she pressed herself against the wall to make room for Cobb and the two replacements. They dove in a heartbeat later, cramming into the narrow hiding spot.
"Cobb", Theresa whispered, dropping into a crouch.
He moved up to stand right next to her, left arm flush against the wall as he raised his rifle.
Something wet and sticky soaked through her shirt on her shoulder. Probably some frozen mud melting in her ODs.
They scanned the roofs and windows of the surrounding houses, looking for any sign of the enemy sniper. Behind them, the three new members of her squad held their breath.
.
When Lipton ran across the street, Theresa couldn't help but question his sanity. "Jesus", she breathed, praying that either Shifty or Louise had the enemy sniper in their sights.
Another shot was fired. The familiar crack of an M1 Garand answered.
Lipton slid down the side of the brick wall, raising a hand to signal that he was okay.
Blowing out a breath of relief, Theresa lowered her rifle.
.
The all clear came.
"Everyone alright?", she asked, feeling Cobb's presence behind her move back.
She received a muttered echo of "Yes ma'am" and "Yeah".
"Good. Let's go."
She straightened, only to pause on account of the world suddenly tilting violently. Black dots swarmed her vision and her feet sidestepped of their own accord.
"Shit, are you alright, ma'am?", Jackson gasped from somewhere behind her.
"Yeah, yeah, just a headrush." Grimacing, Theresa pushed off the wall she'd stumbled against. The sticky wetness on her shoulder was slithering down her arm now. Yikes.
.
They were a few feet down the road when hot, biting pain flared through her left shoulder and up to her neck, stealing her breath. An inarticulate moan hissing through her teeth, she clamped her other hand over the side of her arm.
"Sarge?"
She swayed on her feet as she turned her head, blinked at Cobb who was watching her with concerned apprehension like he expected her to drop dead any moment now. The pain was growing worse by the second.
"Sarge?" Cobb sounded urgent now. Worried.
Her arm was on fire. Or somebody was trying to drive a hot poker through it. Her hand came away sticky and red. Blood, supplied the small part of her brain that wasn't completely flooded with pain. There was an ocean rushing in her ears.
Cobb cursed before shouting for a medic.
A strange lightness washed over her, dimming the fiery agony. She frowned. The colours of the world around her had faded into shades of grey. Her vision flickered like a movie reel.
"Hey Cobb?" Her mouth had gone dry as sawdust. "I think I'm gonna pass out."
Her legs gave out and she distantly heard Cobb call out her name in alarm.
.
Rushing footsteps approached, debris crunching under paratrooper boots. The ocean in her ears began to quiet down and she could hear her own laboured breathing. People crowded around her, familiar faces washed-out shadows against the grey sky. Tears streamed down her face. The pain was excruciating. Making it difficult to think.
Pulling in a shaking breath, Theresa looked at Cobb. "T-try… not to s-scare the new kids too much, alright?", she stuttered out as a pinprick dug into her right shoulder.
He nodded jerkily, expression pinched. "Scout's honour, Sarge."
She managed an indistinct hum in response before cool, blissful numbness tingled through her body, finally curbing the pain.
A muffled voice with a drawling Philly accent said: "It ain't too bad, Nolan".
She offered a slurred mumble. Then dropped into oblivion.
With clean-up finished, the prisoners handed off to battalion staff and the wounded transported to the nearest hospital, Maxine finally allowed herself a moment to breathe.
She selected the broad window sill of a storefront as her perch, swiping off the broken glass before sitting down with a drawn-out sigh. Leaning her rifle against the wall, she rested her arms on her knees and curled forward until she could pillow her head on her arms.
The position was strangely comfortable, she found. A wave of hacking coughs shook her, leaving the walls of her throat raw and irritated. Her helmet slid off her head and hit the ground with a metallic clunk. Her scalp prickled and she didn't want to imagine what her hair must look like with all the grime and sweat in it.
Pulling in a slow, deliberate breath, she focused on the feeling of the cold air travelling into her lungs.
.
Somebody walked towards her, stride determined but without haste. The person stopped briefly, then moved to stand by the wall.
"You did well today, Lloyd", the voice of her new superior spoke.
Maxine fought down a scoff, lifted her head. It was bad manners not to look at a person when they talked to you. She met his clear, discerning gaze. "Thank you, sir. But if it weren't for you, this mission would have failed."
For some reason, that seemed to amuse Speirs. He pulled a pack of smokes from his jacket and offered her one.
She took it, nodded her thanks.
"You were ready to take that attack on in yourself", Speirs said matter-of-factly as he lit first her cigarette, then his own.
Frowning, Maxine took a drag from her cigarette, coughing briefly. Tired bitterness swung in her tone as she pointed out: "Somebody had to and it clearly wasn't going to be Lieutenant Dike."
He scrutinised her, cigarette glowing between his lips. After a moment, he gave a short nod and let the matter rest.
.
Maxine watched the smoke curl up from her cigarette, absently thinking that her parents would have a conniption if they could see her right now. Filthy and unkempt, posture an inelegant slump, smoking with a man who was rumoured to be a cold-blooded killer.
The thought brought a small smirk to her face. Rumours were a powerful thing. And she was certain that the man beside her knew that just as well.
Maybe he hosed those prisoners on D-Day and maybe he shot his own sergeant for being drunk, Bill's voice drawled in her head, a memory of a conversation from a long and dull night on watch in Holland, but anyone tryin' ta tell me Speirs is a heartless son of a bitch who don't care about nobody is either an idiot or a liar.
She'd smiled, teasing him about being a bigger gossip than her older sister who somehow always knew everything about everyone. But she hadn't disputed his assessment.
God, she missed him already. His steady presence, his fierce determination. His terrible jokes and tall tales. His protectiveness and boisterous laugh.
.
Grinding out the cigarette butt under her heel, Maxine got to her feet and stretched. Her shoulders gave off a loud pop and a few kinks in her spine straightened themselves out. She coughed, grimacing at the way it ached in her chest.
Gathering her rifle and kit, she thanked Speirs for the smoke.
"You should get some rest", he said.
A laugh left her chapped lips. "That'll have to wait until we're off the line, sir."
In the afternoon, Easy got orders to move out again.
They weren't shipping back to Mourmelon for badly needed down-time like many of them had hoped. Instead, they were headed north-east, to secure the road and push the Germans back out of the Ardennes.
On 15 January, they took Noville and the company's share of female members went down to 3.