Hello everyone and happy new year! I hope you all started the year in peace and good health.
I can't believe it, but this is the last chapter that follows the series. It's taken me over three years to get to this point and I want to thank each and every one of you for your patience, your interest and for your investment in this story. Thank you for your comments, your ideas and thoughts.
Don't worry, the story doesn't end here. I have a few more chapters planned to explore the women's lives after the war. So stay tuned for more (in a month or so)!
It took Easy Company less than three hours to find the man that had shot Chuck and attacked Ana María and Audrey. They hauled him unceremoniously back to the CP and if the guy happened to have a couple of bumps and bruises more than when they first found him, well, nobody was going to say anything.
"Any word?", Louise asked Talbert, who had stayed behind to coordinate the hunt and act as relay station between the squads.
The First Sergeant looked grim and worn, no sign of his usual cheeky, laid-back nature. "They found Ana and Audrey. Injured but alive. They're on their way back."
"And Chuck?"
"No news."
"Speirs back yet?"
Talbert shook his head and Louise's lips thinned.
The distinct sound of a punch – flesh and bone meeting flesh and bone – came from the next room, with a sharp yelp following.
They glanced at the door. Talbert frowned and said pointedly: "Captain wants him alive."
Louise met his gaze, unperturbed. "He'll get him alive." She had a feral glint in her eye.
Another couplet of sounds, a punch and a grunt, rang out from beyond the door.
"Are you gonna stop us?"
"I should", Talbert told her, crossing his arms and levelling her with a look that was warning and silent concession in one.
Searching his face for a second, she gave him a tight nod and swept past into the adjacent room.
Talbert didn't follow her.
Luz, who had watched the exchange while monitoring radio transmissions, spoke up: "Tab."
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he turned. "Yeah?"
"The jeep with Audrey and Ana just pulled up at the aid station."
"Okay. Thanks, Luz."
"Mhm."
They settled in to wait, for updates on their friends' condition, for Speirs to return, for daylight to come and make the whole mess feel less like a nightmare.
.
Suitably distracted by the card game Luz had struck up to release at least some of their pent-up nervous energy, they both startled when Theresa came storming in. Splatters of blood stained her hands and ODs. Her eyes swept across the room and zeroed in on the door on the other side.
"Hey! How's Ana and Audrey? Did you see them?", Luz asked, cards momentarily forgotten.
"Ana's in surgery, Audrey's getting treatment", the squad sergeant replied curtly, striding towards the adjacent room, the origin of the muffled but unmistakable sounds of a beating.
Talbert got up to intercept her.
She stopped, scowl deepening. "Get out of my way."
"Reese," – he lifted a placating hand – "I don't think you should-"
She cut him off with a glare. Her brown eyes, usually like pools of honey, golden in the sunlight, were dark like the churned-up ground tank tracks left in their wake.
"Outta my way, Tab", she ground out between clenched teeth, "or so help me God, I'll walk right through you."
He considered her for a brief moment, then stepped aside. Theresa wasn't one to make idle threats, especially not with that kind of rage inside her. And she wasn't some fragile dame whose delicate sensibilities needed protecting. She was a paratrooper, a Toccoa veteran and squad leader to some of the most combative soldiers in the entire company.
.
Upon crossing the threshold, Theresa scrutinised the miserable figure bound to the single chair in the middle of the room. The men parted like the Red Sea as she stalked up to the man.
Hazy grey eyes, one of them already swelling shut, stared back at her, wary but defiant. He was drunk. More than that. He was completely plastered. The violent fury that had been searing in her blood morphed into disdain.
"You better hope the people you hurt make it", she said, gaze drilling into his.
He swallowed, but his mouth curved into a lazy, crooked smile. "Or what?"
Nobody moved, everyone awaiting Theresa's reaction with trepidation.
She leaned in close and felt a pang of vicious satisfaction when he leaned back as much as the chair allowed. "Or I'll bury you myself."
The words hung in the air, razor-edged and ringing with promise.
Laughter dragged up from the man's throat, low and mocking, bravado covering the fear the alcohol hadn't smothered.
Theresa straightened, keeping her face impassive.
"I'm not afraid of you", he declared, aiming for confident but landing closer to blustering instead.
She slowly bobbed her head in acknowledgement. Then hauled off and punched him across the jaw. A tooth went airborne.
Pain bloomed across her knuckles, but she refused to pay it any mind. Instead, she pivoted on her heel and looked at her friends, taking in their mixed expressions. Knowing that the amount of blood on her clothes painted a grim picture, she explained: "Ana María was shot through the side, she's in surgery. Audrey likely got pistol-whipped, cracked a bone in her face. She's getting treated. Mia's with them."
It was hardly enough to assuage their worries, but there were infinitesimal shifts in their stances.
Bull caught her gaze and gave her a small nod. A lump formed in her throat. Breathing around it, she managed to make her exit with her façade intact, tossing a casual reminder of "Speirs wants him alive" over her shoulder before the door closed.
The first fingers of dawn were stretching out over the sky when Mia stumbled from the aid station, eyes blood-shot and gritty. Audrey's jumbled, emotionally charged narration of what had happened still rang in her ears. Running a hand through her hair, she let out a weary sigh and turned towards the CP.
I should be happy, she mused as she trudged down the road. Ana María's surgery had gone well and the doctor was confident that she would make a full recovery. Audrey's head injury caused some concern since apparently, the blow to her face had fractured a facial bone, but again the doctor was fairly sure Audrey would be okay.
So why wasn't she happy? Why wouldn't her hands stop shaking? And why did she feel like there was a boulder crushing her chest?
Lost in thought, she walked through the streets, paying hardly any conscious attention to the people she passed. She climbed the stairs to the CP and opened the door. Crossing the entrance area, she made her way to the lounge where Easy's Toccoa veterans, including some of the officers, right up to Welsh, Nixon and sometimes even Winters, occasionally gathered for poker games or shooting the breeze.
On the last stretch of the corridor, Mia pushed her distracted musings aside and cleared her expression. Everyone had enough on their minds as it was, they didn't need her adding to that worry by wearing her sorrows on her face.
Ten steps.
She wiped her hands, the motion an ingrained habit now, even though it didn't help with dried blood.
Seven steps.
The house was holding its breath, the daylight shine from the room humming with anticipation as she moved closer.
Four steps.
She could almost hear their thoughts, their silent hope of Please let them be alright.
One step.
.
They were right where she'd expected them to be, sitting and standing with mirror lines of tension across their shoulders and down their backs. A subdued murmur of conversation hung in the air, soaked with concern and restlessness.
Alley spotted her and stiffened. In a chain reaction, the rest of the room followed his line of sight. They fell silent, looking at her with hope and dread, and for once, the silence was too loud for her. It roared and the wrenching stone claws around her heart squeezed a little tighter.
"The doc says they'll make it."
The whoosh of a collective exhale shattered the fragile stillness, whispers of "Oh thank God" and "That's great" pushing back the remnants of the grave atmosphere.
"So they're going to be alright?", Theresa checked.
Mia wrestled a tiny smile onto her lips and tucked her still trembling hands into the pockets of her trousers. "They should be. We'll send them to an evac hospital later today."
"Guess it takes more than a drunk asshole to keep us Toccoa guys down", Liebgott muttered with a pleased, sharkish smile.
Over the murmurs of agreement, Johnny Martin asked: "You hear about Chuck yet?"
"No. How is he?"
"Speirs came by. Said the surgeon he found is confident Chuck's gonna to pull through."
She breathed a sigh of relief and tried not to think about all the complications that could arise from head injuries, especially ones with damage to the skull and possibly the brain. "That's good."
With some of the tension loosening inside her, she was even more weary all of a sudden. She rubbed grit from her eye and frowned when she registered the bruised and bloodied knuckles several of the men – and Louise – were sporting. Momentary confusion quickly morphed into grim realisation and she decided not to say anything.
"Alright." Luz pushed his way through the crowd, coming to stand next to her and declaring: "You look like you need a decent cup of coffee and some food."
"What?"
"Food sounds like a fine idea", Bull commented with a slow smile.
Johnny nodded. "Yeah I could use some coffee."
Confused, Mia blinked as the rest of the group quickly chimed in with various noises and gestures of agreement.
"Spina dragged Doc Roe off to the mess hall half an hour ago", Malarkey said. "That's where you're going too."
.
The turn of events a little too sudden for her exhausted mind, the medic found herself being whisked off towards the mess hall before she could even think of protesting. Not that she wanted to. She wasn't hungry, her appetite lost after hearing Audrey shakily confess how for a moment after the gunshot, she'd thought Ana María was dead, but she needed coffee and being in her friends' company would distract her from the melancholy and gloomy thoughts which were drifting through her mind.
Mainly, Mia was tired. Tired of losing people, sick and tired of seeing people – her friends, her brothers and sisters – hurt. She had been elbow-deep in guts and gore, had seen and treated a myriad of gruesome wounds. She had held the hand of countless young soldiers as they died. Memories of pain and terror and death clung to her, had etched themselves into her mind. She had gotten so used to the feeling of blood on her skin and clothes that she hardly noticed it anymore.
It was draining. She, like everyone else, had done her duty, paid her dues in blood, sweat and tears. She wanted to go home, not fight in another war right after having made it through this one. She just wanted some peace.
.
Her nerves settled a bit as the familiar noise and chatter, the jokes and jabs traded while they dug into what could only loosely be called breakfast enveloped her. She ate what was on her plate more out of habit than conscious effort, listening to Perconte's rant about the culinary crimes the Army was committing.
She chuckled softly at his impassioned complaint that what was passed as food around here was nothing short of an affront to his refined Italian palate.
"You don't have to eat it", Christenson pointed out with a grin, which set the radioman sputtering.
"What? Of course I gotta- what the hell am I supposed to eat instead, huh?!", he exclaimed, gesturing animatedly. "K rations?! Don't even get me started on that shit."
With a face of pure innocence that nobody believed for a second, Louise suggested that he could go to the kitchen and offer his expertise.
Hiding a smile behind her mug of coffee, Mia turned her head when she felt an elbow nudge her ribs.
Soft cornflower blue eyes met hers and Bull asked: "You alright?", voice pitched low so nobody else would hear. "Your hands are shaking."
She looked. The mug trembled almost imperceptibly in her hold. She tightened her grip. The shaking stopped.
"I'll be fine", she murmured back.
He hummed, seemingly contemplating her for a moment before he nodded and gave her knee a gentle pat. "Yeah, you'll be just fine."
His quiet confidence resonated inside her, but when the thrumming unease in her veins refused to fade despite the cheerful atmosphere, she took her mug of coffee, still half full, and slipped away.
.
It didn't go unnoticed, but those who saw Mia's stealthy exit didn't call attention to it. They all knew their youngest and most reticent medic didn't like being the centre of attention and needed space when she was unsettled or upset, so the least they could do was give her that space. Even if they wanted to go after her and reassure themselves that she was okay. Someone would check on her in an hour or so, if she didn't return on her own.
The mid-morning sun was comfortably warm on Louise's skin and bare head as she ambled along the streets, searching for a glimpse of a familiar mop of hair. Mia never went far, always within shouting distance in case something happened. On a hunch, she went to the hotel serving as their CP and looped around to the back of the building.
"Ha", she made when she found Mia on the steps leading up to the terrace, legs stretched out, head tilted back against the banister.
Heading up the stairs, she slowed and softened her steps when she noticed Mia's eyes were closed.
Dark lashes flickered open as she made to sit down. "Louise."
"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
Mia shook her head and moved her legs so Louise could get comfortable. "It's okay, I wasn't asleep."
With a grunt of acknowledgement, Louise dug a pack of smokes from her pocket and held it out. "Penny for your thoughts?"
A little smile flitted over scar-dusted features and she took the cigarette, handing over her dented and scratched zippo so they could light the smokes.
.
"Audrey was so scared", Mia said softly, looking out over the glistening lake. "Almost made herself sick because she was confused and didn't realise they were safe again. It… it reminded me of Kathleen."
Louise frowned, a faded pang of grief hitting her at the unexpected mention of their sister-in-arms who had lost her life already over a year ago, on D-Day. "Kathleen?", she repeated.
The brunette head bobbed in a little nod. "Yeah. When- when I found her on D-Day, she was so scared at first."
Her heart sank. "Oh."
"She was hurt so bad. There was nothing I could do." Mia picked up her mug of coffee, stared into it like she wanted to crawl inside and hide from the world. Her voice was hardly more than a murmur, brimming with emotion but lacking its usual personality.
"We had a close call with a patrol, but we played dead and they moved on. She was terrified…"
Louise nodded slightly, silently acknowledging the unspoken and so was I.
"… but still told me to run so I wouldn't die too. But I couldn't just leave her, not like that, so I stayed. Promised her I'd write her parents and tell them how much she loved them. She also made me promise to take her book." She trailed off, shook her head and raked unsteady fingers through her unruly hair. "I thought I wouldn't have to treat gunshot wounds anymore."
The sadness in her tone made Louise's lungs ache and she reached out to squeeze Mia's ankle.
She looked up, deep blue eyes red-rimmed with inner pain and weariness.
"I thought I was done with combat patrols and hunting down shooters too", the sniper admitted.
I thought the war here was over. The killing. The pain. The deaths.
A look of understanding and commiseration passed between them, a tacit offer and acceptance of support. The crumpled, downcast miniature of one of Mia's gentle smiles ghosted across her face.
Since the war in Europe had officially come to an end, the soldiers had gradually relaxed, that constant alertness slowly dissipating. Smiles and laughter came quicker and easier, eyes were brighter and no longer dulled by dark circles under them. Everyone noticed, but nobody commented on it, almost like they were afraid to jinx it. With the redeployment to the PTO hanging over their heads, many of the veterans were caught between revelling in the peacetime atmosphere for as long as they could and focusing on training and adapting their strategies to an entirely different enemy.
They felt suspended in limbo, training for more fighting while on occupation duty in a country that starting to pick up the pieces. PT, close order and rifle drills, unarmed combat, tactics and field problems, orienteering and endurance, weapons training… it all seemed a bit surreal in the picturesque Austrian countryside. And yet, it also felt like an era was coming to an end.
Major Winters was doing his best to help those who had been in combat longest and still didn't have enough points; whenever he received an invitation for a paratrooper to accept awards, serve as an advisor or deliver lectures, he picked a Toccoa veteran for the assignment. Malarkey travelled to Paris to act as technical advisor for an exhibition. Cassandra was sent first to London and then stateside to speak at conferences for members of the women's auxiliary armed services. First Sergeant Robert Shurter from D Company became an advisor on a committee that reviewed and revised the basic paratrooper training contents.
.
One of the days that Theresa would always remember with wistful fondness was in early August when a German general surrendered with his entire division. She leaned against the back of the jeep next to Liebgott. Winters and Nixon were in the front seats, Speirs standing on the other side of the vehicle, all of them watching the general address his men, listening to Liebgott's quiet translations.
It was a poignant speech. There was no talk of glory or defeat, no mention of winning or losing. Instead, the general spoke of the bonds the soldiers found among each other, of sharing foxholes, fighting together and holding each other in their darkest moments. His closing words rang with a sincerity that clogged her throat and made her eyes sting.
"I'm proud to have served with you. You all deserve a long and happy life in peace."
She smiled to herself, a warm mix of emotions pushing against the walls of her chest. Glancing at the men around her, she could tell they were also moved by the general's speech. Even Liebgott, who harboured a deep-seated, passionate hatred for Nazis and who was quick to paint all enemy forces with the same brush, looked pensive and relaxed. A slight content smile was on his lips, like something had slotted into place and put him at ease.
Feeling her gaze on him, he met her eyes and tilted his head in a wordless question.
Theresa shook her head and gave his shoulder a pat before pushing away from the jeep. She nodded to the officers and wandered away, intent on a short swim in the lake before she had to round up her squad for training on the improvised shooting range.
.
She weaved out of the way of a truck coming from the supply depot and swallowed a curse when she found herself almost face to face with none other than her first CO, the "Black Swan" himself. Hoping that her dislike for the man didn't show on her features, she saluted Captain Sobel.
He returned the salute with a look that might have been surprise or disdain or both. "Nolan", he said stiffly. His eyes flicked to the chevrons on her sleeves and he amended: "Sergeant Nolan."
"Sir."
"Congratulations. I didn't think you would pass basic training, much less become a senior NCO."
It took considerable effort to hold back a snarky retort and keep her face neutral. "Thank you, sir." She didn't bother pointing out that she had in fact been a Sergeant and squad leader for almost a year now.
Scrutinising her almost as if he was searching for a hint of mockery or disrespect – for a moment, she expected him to bark at her that her weekend pass had been revoked –, Sobel lifted his chin in an abrupt nod, pivoted on his heel and stalked off. She watched him go, blinking after him in puzzlement at the strange exchange before she shrugged, rolled her eyes and continued on her way. She'd given up on trying to figure that man out long ago and since he was no longer in her direct chain of command, she couldn't care less about his opinion and backhanded compliments.
.
When she told Cobb about the encounter while they headed to the range, he snorted in aggravation and then burst into cackling laughter. "Remember when he tried to make a point about how women are weak and fragile and he picked Helen for his demonstration?"
Theresa thought back to three years ago. It felt like eons ago. "You mean when he said we wouldn't be able to carry that dummy?", she asked.
"Yeah!"
She snickered. "Oh yes. I can still see his face."
Out of all the women in basic training, Sobel had unknowingly picked the physically strongest one. Helen had grown up on a farm and accustomed to long days, hard work and heavy lifting, so when she was told to carry the 100-pound dummy, she had picked it up with an air of nonchalance. "I've lifted sacks of grain heavier than this", she'd commented and jogged across to the finish line where she'd dumped it unceremoniously.
Cobb grinned and offered: "He looked like he got slapped with a fish."
The mental image made her laugh hysterically, which in turn set Cobb off.
They were still giggling when they reached the gun range and wisely chose not to pick spots right next to each other.
As Theresa settled into her stance, she pondered with amazement how time and distance had shifted their perspective. Back in basic and later on, when Sobel was still their CO, they had all hated him. Whenever they had talked or joked about him, there had always been an edge of resentment and disdain in the undercurrents of their voices. Almost two years later, they were able to laugh about incidents that had been frustrating, humiliating and upsetting at the time. Interactions with Captain Sobel, the man who had made their lives miserable from the moment they had started training at Camp Toccoa, were now dismissed with an eyeroll and a shrug.
Or hysteric laughter, she thought, and promptly snickered again.
"Something funny, Sarge?", Rhodes wanted to know.
She shook her head and focused on the paper target. "It's nothing, just a thought."
On 15 August, Easy received a visitor. Lt Buck Compton had been taken off the line in Bastogne due to combat fatigue after Guarnere and Toye had been wounded. The boisterous and sociable lieutenant had been tense and jumpy when he'd come back from the hospital after Market Garden and watching two of his best friends get seriously hurt in an artillery barrage had been too much for him.
Seeing him now, it was practically impossible to tell: the time away from the front lines had done Buck a world of good. He had his wide smile and raucous laughter back and his joy at reuniting with his old company was infectious.
"Are you three the only women left in the battalion?", Buck asked Louise as they walked down to the baseball pitch where a bunch of soldiers from Easy – a large portion of them Toccoa and Market Garden veterans – were setting up a friendly game.
She nodded and filled him in on what had happened to the others. Maxine and Frances wounded by a mortar explosion in Belgium. Catherine taking her points, Esther "winning" the raffle. Ana María and Audrey hurt by a drunk replacement. Cassandra reassigned to hold talks for the women's armed services in England and the States.
"And that leaves Reese, Mia and me", she concluded with a shrug. "The last women standing."
Buck chuckled and said: "I heard you refused to take your points."
"If you think I'd up and leave when Easy was going to be redeployed, you must be outta your tree."
"I missed your sunny disposition", he teased with a grin.
She narrowed her eyes and harrumphed. He had the audacity to look smug. "Oh shut up", she grumbled, the smile on her face taking the bite out of her words.
He laughed.
.
At the pitch, the soldiers separated into two teams. Buck volunteered to fill the catcher's position since he had the unfair advantage of having been a baseball player in college. Louise and Liebgott being in different teams was immediately vetoed by the rest of the players, with Johnny Martin declaring half-jokingly he didn't want to listen to their bickering the whole time. Meanwhile, Mia and Roe were put on opposing teams because, as Perconte argued passionately, they could read each other's minds and were the fastest sprinters. The two medics, who stood next to each other, shared a look and grinned.
Once the teams were decided and they had flipped for who would bat first, the fielders spread out to take their positions at the bases and further out.
Twirling the bat in his hand, Talbert stepped out to the home plate. "We're gonna crush you guys!", he called.
"You wish!", Perconte hollered from first base.
Cheerful taunts and heckles rang out across the field and several bets were made. Then Johnny Martin threw the first pitch and the game was on.
Within minutes, the first spectators drifted over and soon, more and more people joined them, perching on a couple of parked jeeps or lounging in the grass, cheering the players on in what would probably go down in history as the most spirited and rambunctious game of baseball in all of Austria.
.
Buck rubbed his hands as Webster got ready to bat. "Alright, Pee Wee", he called to Martin, "let's get Webster!"
At second base, Liebgott let out a whoop of encouragement. "Yeah, get Webster!"
Webster pointed the bat in his direction and shouted back: "We'll see who's laughing when you strike out!"
"Ha, in your dreams, Web!"
.
"Go, go, go!"
"Run, Louise!"
"What's it look like I'm doing? Knitting a sweater? Eating a sandwich?"
.
"Oh come on!", Ramirez lamented when Popeye tagged him the third time in a row. "Popeye, man, give me a break! First platoon's gotta stick together."
Popeye grinned unrepentantly and tossed the ball back towards the pitcher mound.
.
Theresa and Christenson both ended up on the ground when he skidded onto third base.
"You alright?", he asked, offering her a hand up.
"Yeah." She pulled a face and shook herself. "Just got sand in places where sand has no business being."
He laughed, along with the fielders in earshot.
.
"Jesus Christ, Doc!", Luz said, making a show of shaking out his hand after catching the fastball Roe had thrown to him. "Remind me to stay on your good side!"
"You oughta know that by now", came the amused response from the Cajun, who was playing shortstop.
"'Never piss off the medics', I know" – he lobbed the ball to first base to try and force out Garcia – "but seriously Doc, my hand's stinging all over from that catch."
.
At a signal from Babe, Mia sprinted towards second base while he took off from third.
"Watch out!"
"Get him!"
"The Doc, too! Get her!"
The ball flew across the field as the fielders attempted to tag the two runners. Babe careened across home base after a mad scramble and Mia made it to second base in a spray of sand a split-second before Skinny caught the pass from Garcia.
"We should put a bell on you!", Alley shouted from the middle of the field.
Giggling and out of breath, she retorted: "You'd have to catch me first!"
Perconte had just been forced out at first base when their CO's voice rang out across the pitch.
"Easy Company! School circle!"
They quickly gathered where Speirs was standing with Nixon and Winters, and settled into a half-circle, wiping sweat off their faces. Apprehension settled in their veins, stiffened their muscles as they braced for the announcement they had all been dreading and waiting for the past two months.
"Listen up, I've got some news", Winters began, gaze sweeping over the assembled soldiers. "This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese." He smiled and added: "The war is over."
.
The war is over.
The war is over.
The war. is over.
His words echoed in Mia's head and for a long few seconds, she couldn't grasp their full meaning. Then the fog of shock lifted and reality crashed down. Around her, whoops and shouts, laughter and excited chatter filled the air. The war was over. No more redeployment. No more fighting. It was over.
She sought out Speirs' gaze, who nodded, a smile on his face.
Then Theresa pulled her into a crushing hug, someone shouted "We did it! We're going home!" and the group dissolved into exuberant chaos as they hugged and cheered and clapped each other on the back and pretended they weren't overwhelmed with relief and the exhilaration of being alive.
Once their cluster of joy broke apart, they decided to restart the game with new teams.
Welsh and Lipton were promptly roped into playing as well. The company XO, always up for some fun, didn't need much convincing, especially after Buck told him – over the mock outrage of the rest of the group – that they needed a couple more officers to keep the rowdy enlisted in check.
"C'mon, Lip, you're second platoon, you can't leave us hanging!", Luz wheedled.
With an indulgent grin, their former First Sergeant and fondly nicknamed company "mom" agreed.
.
While the soldiers headed back to the pitch or to their billets to change into PT gear, Mia turned to Speirs. "Are you coming?", she asked, eyes alight and sparkling. "Two officers on each team."
He considered for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up, before shrugging out of his jacket and undoing his tie.
Mia's smile turned radiant and she went to catch up to the others. When he called her name, she stopped and looked back.
"What?"
"You have sand in your hair!", he told her, fond amusement colouring his tone.
Huffing a laugh, she mussed up her already windswept hair, dislodging a cloud of dirt and dust and making the unruly tufts stick up in even more directions. "Better?"
He chuckled and motioned for her to go ahead and join the others.
As she jogged off, he shook his head and went to get changed. The war might be over but he didn't fancy having to explain to the supply staff how he had managed to ruin his class A trousers and shoes.