Thanks a lot to beth-rodrigues.77 and BatOutOfHell-Madness for your steadfast reviewing. Very glad you liked the beginning of this new story, although it is quite different from the last one. Then many thanks as well to ChocAndSnow19 for finding your way to my story and for the nice review (and don't be too worried, I love Dick way too much to do something too... let's say "permanent" to him...:-) )
Yeah, let's see if Dick is going to be reasonable or not... Have fun with second chapter!
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Lip could clearly remember the first time he had met Winters, who had just come freshly out of officer school. With his limbs slightly too long, he had a coltish look about him, standing there beside Sobel with an earnest expression on his boyish face that remembered of a precocious kid. It was true, Lip had at first felt some major doubts about this red haired rookie with his soulful eyes, who could not have been more than two years his senior. But Lip had quickly learned that first impressions could be deceiving. He had suspected Winters to be too soft with the men and unsure about leading them in the exercises, but Lip could not have been more wrong. Winters turned out to know exactly what he was doing, oozing a reassuring confidence, and he was right from the beginning very strict in every aspects concerning the men, demanding the best everyone around him had to offer with a steely determination. At the same time, he proved to be the center of calm, never losing his head or thinking things only halfway through. But what had finally earned him the respect of the men was his sense for justice. Lip had never seen a man more dedicated to the task of judging fairly, always putting reason over emotion.
This was why Lip found himself more than a bit baffled at the turn of events of the night. Looking over to the lieutenant, Lip could even in the dark make out the grimace that had taken hold of Winter's face in the last few hours. For a man this reasonable, Winters was really behaving more than just a little irrational right now. Lip had tried to talk him out of going through with the exercise despite the illness, so had Roe, but their efforts were worth nothing against a direct order.
Trying to put his worry out of his mind, Lip instead focused on the task ahead, but he was not all that successful, his eyes were roaming all the time back to Winters. It would be a shame to lose an officer as dedicated as Winters. When he had first been assigned to them in Toccoa, the men had been relieved to be led by someone who understood his business and invested every free second of his time in getting even better.
However, after a few weeks, first complaints were to be heard, too. Lip did not even know who had started it. There had been a clash of wills when second platoon had not run the obstacle course exactly the way Winters had wanted them to do it. By then, the lieutenant had already garnered a reputation for his strictness and sense of perfection. The men obviously thought that Winters was going too far with his relentlessness concerning exactness and there was more than just a bit of low grumbling to be heard among them, as Winters had forced them to repeat the course again and again. Twelve times. Lip had kept a close count. Every time the men opened their mouths in protest, Winters had them running the course again, appearing the very epitome of calmness, totally unfazed by the by then seething men. Maybe it had been this cool detachment, coupled with his penchant for immaculacy and precision that had finally granted him the nickname. Lip could not have said who had first come up with it, but in the showers, at the end of this frustrating day of endless obstacle courses it had suddenly been born: Red Machine.
It had stuck, somehow, and on first glance it seemed spot on. Lip had never seen Winters freak out, but at the same time he had also never heard him laugh either. Lip could remember some occasions when he had thought it rather scary how impassive the lieutenant could be, especially in the face of Sobel, who had given him more than a few chances to be pissed off. Beside his rather detached demeanor, there had been some other traits of Winters' that had caused some talking. For example his radical abstinence from alcohol and cigarettes. Or the fact that he always spent his weekends at the base. Or the fact that he never talked about anything personal. All Lip knew about Winters was that he grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania and that he had attended College.
All of these things came together in their nickname for him, Red Machine, although Lip had honestly thought it a bit unfair. He had always refused to join in in the rumors and stories concerning Winters, since he had a while back decided he would only judge what he experienced himself. Not so Guarnere, Luz and some others, who had always joked that by the end of the day, someone would just need to turn off Winter's switch and turn it back on in the morning.
But Lip was still fully convinced that Winters was the best officer they had, by far. And the good thing was that despite the men grumbling about the lieutenant's tedious sense of exactness, despite his unapproachable nature and despite his abstinence from each and every single luxury good, none of the men would ever wish for Winters to be replaced. Popular was a funny word to be used in connection with Winters, but the men certainly valued his presence more than anything, especially in the face of Sobel's blundering. No one in the company would be stupid enough to overlook that their survival would most probably be depending on Winter's competence. Probably without him even noticing, the men had in their very own and very subtle ways become fiercely loyal towards Winters. Maybe the whole nickname thing was even part of that, who knew.
Looking to Winters, Lip saw that the lieutenant was watching the men closely, obviously fearing they knew about his illness. His glance lingered shortly on Lip, then he looked away. If there was one real fault to Winters, it was probably his obsession with control. Lip always had the feeling that the lieutenant thought them all slightly incompetent, since he was more than just a little reluctant to delegate power, which exasperated Lip from time to time. If only Winters would open up some more towards the company, if he could finally take this leap of faith with the men with whom he was going to invade hell, then he would become an exceptional leader, maybe the best the US army had to offer in this war. Until then, Lip was happy to stay at his side and be content that he at least was the best officer Easy had got so far.
Seeing the lieutenant beckoning to join him, Lip turned off his musings and walked over to Winters.
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When Dick came back to the men, everything was quiet, no one looked up or gave reason to suspect that they knew what had occurred in the woods, which was a relief to Dick. If he could help it, no one else would need to know about his illness, at least not during the exercise. Of course the men would eventually need to be told about Dick's appendicitis, presuming Roe's diagnosis was accurate, since he would probably miss a few days of training after the surgery. But the notion of his men thinking him weak and unable to go through his first solo-maneuver made his skin crawl. They already had a company CO incapable of leading them into battle, their trust need not be shaken further by a lieutenant falling ill on his first important combat exercise.
Dick tried to bolster his resolution with such thoughts, willing his side to pretty-please stop acting up for the next few hours, and then motioned for the sergeants to join him. The frown on Lipton's face told him at once that the other man thought his decision to go through with everything downright stupid, but Lipton bit back every comment that might have been on his tongue. Grant joined him rather quickly, while Guarnere demonstratively lagged behind, obviously still sulking. God, they had a long way ahead of them before they were ready to go to war.
"We have approximately two hours ahead of us before we'll reach the farm complex", Dick began, keeping his voice down. "I want you and the men on constant vigilance, there might still be troops waiting for us in the woods on the way there. Light and voice discipline is still in effect. Lipton, you take first squad ahead, scouting the way for us. Grant, you'll be in the middle with second squad and Guarnere will bring up the rear with third squad. I'll be in between second and third squad, but you will be in control of the men and order them through the woods as you see fit."
Grant and Guarnere snapped up their heads at that.
"Sir?", Guarnere spoke up, sounding slightly puzzled. "Am I correct to understand that you're delegating authority to us to lead the men? I thought that was your job."
Dick nodded, having struggled with himself over this decision, but then finally accepted that he might not be fully up to the task, the pain in his abdomen being more than just a small distraction. If he wanted to see this through, he would have to trust the noncoms to make the right decisions. Which did not mean that he liked the idea.
"That's correct", Dick answered, noticing the thoughtful look Lipton gave him. "You'll have to learn this anyway, might be better to start rather sooner than later. I'm entrusting you here with a major part of this exercise, so don't let me down. Report back to me if you see anything unusual or if the farm comes into view."
Guarnere and Grant both nodded eagerly. Dick had to tell himself that all three of them, Lipton included, were more than ready for this task. They had trained for this for a long time and they had excellent references as sergeants, even Guarnere, when he put his mind to it.
While Grant and Guarnere trailed back to the men, Lipton stayed behind, looking at Dick pensively.
"What?", Dick asked, the intent gaze making him uneasy.
"You put yourself in the position reserved for the weakest member of the group, between second and third squad", Lipton slowly replied.
"Yeah", Dick acknowledged, feeling a bit miffed that Lipton had seen right through his plan. "Look, you might think me crazy for going through with the exercise, but I still got my wits about me. I know I'm currently not at my best, so I have to delegate. I owe it to the men to finish this maneuver as good as I can. And I can't have them lose faith in me should I be too preoccupied to make the right decisions."
Lipton thought on this for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.
"So that's what this is all about?", he asked, puzzling Dick with his smile. "You're afraid of the men losing their trust in you?"
"Yeah, I am", Dick admitted, starting to feel annoyed that Lipton thought that funny. "They at least deserve one good leader when we go to war and I need them to fully trust me."
"But they do", Lipton replied, turning serious. "You have no idea how much the men trust you. All of the noncoms in Easy company are ready to hand in their stripes if you were to be transferred out of the company. You keep this all together. The men are scared shitless of the thought of going to battle without at least one officer they can fully trust. You're that officer."
Dick could not help himself, he just stared at Lipton, mouth open.
"I don't understand…", Dick stuttered, then slowly recovered. "Are you sure? Because I see this all a bit differently. Why then is Guarnere acting up all the time, challenging each and every one of my decisions? And from Grant I never hear anything else than 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir', although everyone tells me what a great strategist he is. They respect me, I know that, but they don't trust me enough."
"The way I see it, sir", Lipton answered carefully, "it's not the men that lack trust, it's you. Guarnere is more than just a little frustrated with you keeping him on a tight leash and Grant knows your penchant for perfection so well, he doesn't dare saying or making anything else beside what's strictly asked of him out of fear of disappointing you. Still, both of them would follow you to the depths of hell and back. So would I and the rest of the men."
This made Dick think hard. Could it be that he had so blatantly been wrong? He had known there were trust issues in his platoon and in the company, he had felt it with all clarity, but the thought had never even crossed his mind that the problem might actually lay with him and not with the men.
"You did the right thing, a few minutes ago", Lipton continued. "A leader has to be honest, before all to himself. You acted upon that honesty and decided to delegate power. And you just showed Guarnere and Grant that you trust their leading skills."
Dick nodded hesitantly, feeling numb. This was all a little crazy. Did he really first need to suffer from this illness and hear these words from his sergeant before realizing that he had some major trust issues concerning his men? Anyway, this night truly turned out to become a night to remember.
"Thank you for your thoughts, Carwood", Dick replied earnestly, slowly packing together his things. "I'll think about what you said."
Lipton nodded, the smile back on his face, then went to the men, gathering first squad. Dick just watched while the sergeants briefed the squads, receiving some curious glances from the men, probably because he kept himself all the while in the background. The longest look he received was from Doc Roe, whose demeanor still spoke of his dissatisfaction with Dick's decision. Lipton ordered first squad to move out and after a few minutes Grant got second squad on the move. Dick then trailed behind them, feeling slightly useless, then Guarnere brought up the rear.
Although the rain had stopped by now, it brought them no relief, their clothes soaking wet and the wind so chilly that Dick was afraid they would give away their position just by the chattering of teeth. The clouds had opened, showing stars and from time to time the bright moon. Just as Dick was mourning the loss of darkness because of the disappearing clouds, second squad in front of him suddenly stopped, crouching down. Reflex instantly brought Dick down as well and even the spiking pain in his side could not keep him from turning around and making sure that third squad was hiding as well. Biting on his lips to hold back a moan, he crept forward past the men to Grant, who hid behind a half-unearthed tree trunk. Dick lowered himself down beside Grant, peering through the roots to Luz from Lipton's squad, who signed them that there was a patrol ahead, fifteen men strong. The patrol was coming right at them, which was why Dick decided to take them out before they were discovered. Signing to first squad that they should follow their lead, Dick then motioned for second squad to get up and attack.
Like one man, second squad stood up, the clicks of their guns being cocked freezing the patrol right in their tracks. Just as the patrol was searching for an exit, Lipton's squad rose up from the dark forest ground as well, making escape impossible.
"You're dead", Dick commented, feeling his pulse rushing in his ears.
"Well done, lieutenant", the leader of the patrol replied in a heavy Southern drawl, lighting himself a cigarette. Dick was sure he did not know him, probably not even a paratrooper. "You got us. So sad for us, we now have to trail back to our cozy beds, sleeping the night away inside. Darn it, I wish we were still in the game and could spend the night outside, freezing our asses of."
The snickers of the patrol men was met with some grumbling from the Easy men, who were shushed immediately by Dick.
"Good for you", Dick answered, not letting himself be goaded. "Let's just hope you take this exercise seriously, because I don't think there will be warm beds waiting for you once we're invading Germany."
The other leader, either a lieutenant or a sergeant, Dick could not tell in the dark, just chuckled at that.
"We'll be sure to enjoy the comfort while we still have it", he replied, then tipped his helmet. "Have fun, parachute boys."
Dick nodded a goodbye, then the the patrol disappeared into the woods.
"Asshole", Perconte muttered, spitting on the ground.
Surprisingly enough, it was Guarnere who called him out on that, since Perconte was in his squad, "Perco, we still have noise discipline, so keep it to yourself."
Dick gave Guarnere a short nod of approval, then they were moving out again.
Dick could almost feel his legs getting heavier with each step, his attention slipping for a few seconds before he concentrated himself again on the task ahead. Since he knew what was ailing him, he sometimes had these nasty visions of something rotten inside him bursting, oozing pus and blood in his stomach. Blast Roe for putting these thoughts in his head!
Trying to think of something else, he reached for his canteen, but then stopped and left it untouched. His throat was parched and he longed to drink some water, but he did not trust his stomach. As long as there was nothing inside, he was fairly sure he could keep the nausea at bay. The minutes wore on and he found himself stumbling more often, his side complaining painfully with each jolty movement.
It would soon be over, it would soon be over, Dick repeated to himself again and again. Maybe he would be able to convince the doctors to let him sleep for a few hours in his bed before the operation once he was back, he felt dead tired.
Suddenly second squad stopped again, bringing Dick out of his haze, senses turning sharp. Just as before he crept forward, seeing Lipton and first squad right in front of him in the moonlight. Only after that he realized that they had reached their goal, the farm was right ahead of them. Dick checked his watch and saw that it was shortly after midnight. They had made good time.
There were three buildings, the main house, a stable and a barn. A fence was running around the buildings and the forest continued almost right to the main houses. A plan already formed in Dick's mind and he was glad the tactical classes had paid out for him. He mentioned for the sergeants to join him.
"Sir", Lipton whispered, "I sent four men to check the perimeter. Everything is dark, they're probably hiding inside. The trees behind the barn would give good cover for a split-up, if you would like to have one."
"Thanks Lip", Dick answered, glad for the competence of his sergeant. "We'll do just that. First squad has most experience, you take them around. But wait for my signal. I'll take the other two squads up front. And I want three men up the trees, they're supposed to give us cover and watch the roofs. Can Shifty climb?"
"Yes, sir", Grant answered, nodding his head.
"Very good. He's the best shot. What about Perconte and Webster?"
"If they don't want to, I'll make them climb", Guarnere drawled. "Quicker than monkeys, you'll see, sir."
"Okay, good", Dick answered, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, the adrenaline droning out his discomfort. "Third squad will move in first, covering second squad. Employ grenades whenever you can. Alright, let's do it."
Of course they had no real ammunition, just mock bullets that made some noise and the grenades spitting smoke.
Dick was surprised how easy everything went. The different squads were moving with a precision that made him feel proud, every man in exactly the position he belonged and the sergeants knowing their squads inside out, following every order from Dick at once. The drill lessons seemed to have paid off, after all. The plan turned out to be good, they had captured the complex and its fifty men strong occupying forces in less than fifteen minutes, with only three "casualties" on their side.
"Congratulations, Lieutenant Winters", the commander of the occupying forces remarked, held at gunpoint. Dick motioned for his men to lower their weapons, since the attack was obviously over. The commander then walked over to the stables and switched on an outside lamp, making them all blink in the sudden bright light. When Dick looked around, he saw the pale and grimy faces of the Easy men, their eyes glowing with the thrill of their success. This was a welcome change to their constant blundering in the field exercises with Sobel.
"You've got the best results so far", the commander continued, fetching a clipboard and taking some notes. Dick could see now that he was a captain from infantry. "You were quick and well-organized. Your superiors will be proud to hear that."
Dick doubted that Sobel would break out in tears of joy when hearing this, but refrained himself from commenting on it, instead just thanked the captain for the compliment. While the paperwork was done, Dick could practically feel the boost of energy from the assault abating, the pain coming back in waves and the sudden weakness in his knees making him unsteady. It would have felt so good to sit down for a while and wait for the dizziness to pass that had him swaying. The captain did not notice anything, but his men were a different story.
"Sir?", Guarnere asked worriedly, suddenly at his elbow and peering at him closely. Dick knew he must by now look terrible, pale and sweaty, but he just shook his face.
"They'll soon be finished and we'll be heading back", he answered, purposely misunderstanding Guarnere's question. The sudden bout of weakness persisted, but he was able to get a better grip on himself.
It was almost two o'clock in the morning when they set out again, now on their way back to the base with a long march ahead of them. With noise and light discipline fallen away, the men were first talking to each other excitedly about their different experiences during the exercise, the joy about their success evident in their voices. But after two or three hours, the voices steadily trailed off, the silence becoming thicker with the tiredness overlaying every move they made.
On top of the general weariness, Dick had his very own battle to fight. The racking pain in his side had him limping by now and clenching his jaw from making a sound. He could not remember ever being in so much pain. His strength was trickling away in a steady flow, he could actually feel himself getting worse by the minute. The fever had risen, making him shiver with chills, and the dizziness had him stumbling. One thought came back to haunt him again and again: he was not going to make it back under his own power.
Just before they reached the edge of the forest, a root in the ground caught Dick's right foot, making him trip. The sudden pull in his side evoked red hot agony and he could not hold back the gasp of pain this movement elicited. It was difficult to say what brought him down in the end, the root or the pain, but fact was that Dick found himself doubled over on his knees. In a burning haze, he barely noticed the men halting around him. A hand on his shoulder finally made him look up and he saw Lipton and Roe kneeling beside him, both their faces pinched with worry.
"Let's take a break, okay?", Lipton asked and Dick just nodded, not trusting his voice. Wetness seeped through his trousers, because he had of all possible places decided to land in a puddle. Lipton and Roe helped him get up and led him over to sit down and lean against a tree trunk. Dick thought the pain would tear him up right then and there. Even breathing hurt, the tiniest movement sent him into new agony. The most excruciating pain was still located in his right side, but the hurt was spreading through half his body, making everything throb with pain, from his knees up to his chest. It probably took only a few minutes, but for Dick it seemed to take ages before he was be able to think straight again. The pain was still there, but resting helped, the throbbing slowly becoming less severe. Dick released a shuddering breath.
"Better?", Roe asked, watching him intently. Dick looked up and then nodded slowly, already starting to feel embarrassed at the attention his not-so-graceful breakdown had raised. It was still dark, but Dick could make out the hovering figures and the low murmuring of his men just a few feet away. Suddenly Guarnere showed up, crouching down between Lipton and Roe.
"Would you mind telling us what this is all about, sir?", he asked, somewhere between worried and pissed off.
Dick looked into the frowning face of Guarnere, then to the men waiting uneasily just a few feet away. Hiding seemed pointless, he had to tell them the truth. They had a right to know, since it became clear that they were stuck with him in the woods.
"Doc Roe thinks it's appendicitis", Dick finally said, loud enough for everyone to hear. He did not care to repeat himself, to anyone, he felt foolish enough saying it once.
The oppressive silence his revelation produced lasted for about ten seconds, then the buzzing started.
"What?", Guarnere asked, a look of disbelief on his face, drowning out other half-muttered utterances from the Easy men such as "Seriously?" and "Come on!".
"Will you shut it?", Lipton snapped to the Easy men with a thunderous voice. "No one asked any of you for your opinion, so keep your comments to yourself. This is serious."
The men immediately obeyed, some of them even having the grace to look abashed. If Dick had been better, he probably would have felt humiliated with Lipton fighting his battles, but there was only so much a man could take and he was more than tired of fighting at the moment.
"Are you sure?", Guarnere asked Roe, turning around to the medic.
"Unfortunately yes, quite sure", the Roe answered.
"So this is it, eh?", Guarnere asked Dick, frowning. "We're breaking this off and call for help?"
"Oh man, I'm sure Sobel will let us repeat the whole fucking maneuver", Luz complained, standing close by and taking his helmet off to scratch his head. "Although we're almost through with it. Such a shame, the only part left is walking back. And we sure practiced that often enough in Toccoa."
"It doesn't matter, George", Lipton replied firmly. "It's not as if one more exercise will do us any harm. The more practice, the better we get."
"No one said we're breaking this off", Dick finally spoke up from where he sat, feeling his control of the situation slipping. Luz was right, they did not deserve to repeat everything just because of him and his stupid appendix. He was tired and he was hurting, but he was not yet ready to give up.
"Here we go again...", Roe sighed, giving Dick an exasperated look. "Sir, how do you imagine returning to the base? You can barely walk."
"Just give me a few minutes and I'll be fine", Dick replied, trying to get across a conviction he did not feel. If he could just switch off the nagging pain in his side for one moment, he was sure he could think of a way to get them back with his dignity intact.
"Fine my ass", Guarnere commented, shaking his head, then suddenly showing that toothy grin of his. "With all due respect, sir, but you're one crazy bastard."
Some of the men chuckled at that, others were too shocked of Guarnere's boldness to utter any sound. Dick was taken aback as well, then suddenly found himself holding back a smile, despite the awkwardness of his situation.
"Thanks, Bill", he answered simply, encouraging some more chuckles.
"What are we going to do?", Lipton spoke up, bringing them back on topic.
"Roe, can't you just cut that thing out yourself here and now?", Perconte suggested, lifting his shoulders questioningly.
Dick shuddered at the thought, but the medic beat him to answering.
"Are you stupid?", Roe replied, his calm demeanor suddenly turning fierce. "I'm a medic, not a fucking surgeon! You know, people study that for years on an end, that's why they earn so much money, okay? And even if I knew what to do, you can't just cut up someone in the middle of the woods!"
"Okay, okay, it was just an idea...", Perconte replied sulkily, shuffling his feet.
"Easy, boys, we need clear heads here", Lipton tried to calm down the men. "We had a long night, I know you're all tired, but there's no need for going at each other's throat. Let's just think for one moment."
"Lieutenant Winters", Bull spoke up, after having kept silent for almost the whole night. Everyone knew that he was not a big talker and if he did open his mouth, it must be important. "I know this is your decision to make, sir, not mine. But if you want to hear my advice: call this exercise off. We'll repeat it, no big deal."
Dick looked at the big soldier, whom he knew to be one of the best of this company, and felt his resolve crumbling. What could he do? He was sure he was unable to walk back and he would never order his men to carry him, just out of selfish pride. Then why was it so difficult to accept that he needed help?
"I wanted this maneuver to turn out perfect", Dick slowly said, trying to look the men into the eyes, but it was still too dark to see their faces clearly, although a faint grey of morning was slowly creeping in. "I thought this was the time to prove myself to you and show you that you're the best men this army has to offer, when led properly. And you did what was asked of you and more, your sergeants doing an excellent job. All of you made me proud today. But I shall be the cause for you to fail all the same? You don't deserve that. Just picturing the look of glee on Sobel's face when we come back unsuccessful..."
Dick abruptly cut himself off. Damn it, he had not intended to say that last bit out loud. In all the grumblings against Sobel he had never taken stance against their CO, since he had not wanted to be the one to undermine his authority. As it seemed the men did not mind his rather open comment about Sobel at all, the chuckling surprising Dick.
"Careful, sir", Luz threw in playfully, "you might actually come across as human, complaining about your superior and all that."
Dick tried to explain himself, then felt a sudden stab of pain in his stomach that had him biting his lips from making a sound.. He pressed a hand more firmly against his side, breathing shallowly until the throb abated somewhat.
"Alright, I see, you're really allergic to let our boys from base drag your ass back there, sir", Guarnere drawled, something akin to appreciation in his voice. "What about this: we're soldiers and we're training for war, so it's obvious that one or the other of us will get wounded eventually. We learned about evacuation protocol and all that, but we never practiced it. How about starting now? We can pretend we're surrounded, no air or land support, so we have to get to the base all by ourselves."
"That's not too bad an idea...", Lipton remarked slowly, obviously already going through the theory in his head. "Sir, where's the map?"
"In my backpack", Dick reluctantly answered, while suddenly being wrapped in a blanket by Roe.
"Evacuation protocol, sir", Roe replied in answer to the puzzled look Dick gave him. "The wounded has to be kept warm."
"I'm not wounded...", Dick tried to explain, but was cut off by Guarnere.
"Well, it probably won't earn you a purple heart, sir", the sergeant replied wryly, while flashing a light on the map Lipton was holding. "But you'll receive a nice scar all the same. The ladies will like it."
Baffled, Dick rang for words, then exclaimed, "I've not even given my consent to this plan!"
"You don't have to, sir", Lipton explained, looking quite pleased with himself. "As soon as an officer is too wounded or ill to perform his duty, the second-in-command takes over. That would be me, presently. And I say we're going through with evacuation protocol."
Dick sputtered. What was this? Some kind of revolution?
"Just relax, we'll take care of it from here", Guarnere replied, being unable to hold back a grin.
"You can't do that...", Dick tried again to be heard, while Roe had procured from who knows where a second blanket and wrapped it around him even more tightly than the first one, making Dick feel for all the world like a mummy.
"Sir, it's either evacuation protocol or a call for help to the base. You choose", Lipton said, shortly looking up from the map.
Dick just stared at him, feeling more helpless than he had in a long time. Receiving no answer, Lipton just nodded, satisfied, and went back to studying the map.
"Should I make tea for him?", Shifty asked Roe right over Dick's head.
"No, he shouldn't drink anything, but thanks for asking", the medic replied. Dick just wondered if he had turned invisible as well, on top of everything else.
Lipton, Guarnere and Grant had put their heads together, discussing their options in low voices. Dick tried to listen in, but he could not make out what they were saying.
"Could you at least let me in on the plan?", he asked, trying not to sound too petulant.
"Of course, sir", Lipton replied smoothly, looking up. "There's a farm not too far from here. Chuck's going to see if they got a car we could lend, then comes back to pick us up. Gene, Bull and I will bring you to the road, while Bill takes the rest of the men at a quick pace in direction of the base. We'll meet up on the street and will hopefully be able to arrive at the base all at the same time."
The three sergeants at least had the grace to wait for Dick's nod of approval, before they set their plan into operation.
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"What took you so long?", Eugene asked Grant impatiently, while settling Winters down on the backseat of the bright red Chevy, so he could lie there almost stretched out. Having done that, Eugene squeezed himself in to kneel awkwardly beside Winters on the floor of the car. Their lieutenant's condition had worsened in the last two hours, he was deadly pale and only their combined effort and steady support during the walk to the street had kept him from just curling up under some bush in the woods. He had also become awfully quiet, hardly speaking more than two words on their journey to the street and their long wait for Grant to return with the car. For Eugene it seemed like Winters had withdrawn deeply into himself while trying to deal with his pain.
"It wasn't my fault!", Grant exclaimed, while Lipton got in to sit in the passenger's seat and Bull had to content himself with the luggage trunk. "They wouldn't give me their Chevy, I almost had to talk their ears off to reassure them that this is an emergency and that I would bring their car back."
"It's alright, just drive", Lipton commanded in a clipped voice, then turned around to look at Winters. "Sir, we'll be back at the base in no time at all. Just hold on."
Winters nodded faintly, face pinched with pain.
"How's he doing?", Grant asked quietly, looking in the rear mirror at the hunched form of their lieutenant.
"Not good", Eugene answered, feeling for the upteenth time Winters's forehead. He was burning up, the high fever worrying Eugene. The playful mood they had been in when setting out to put their evacuation plan into practice was all but gone. Eugene had known that the lieutenant had already been in quite a poor shape when he had diagnosed him with appendicitis, but the medic was still surprised at how quickly he had taken a turn for the worse. This was slowly getting really serious. Eugene suspected that the appendix was already ruptured and the infection spreading in Winter's body. There was nothing he could do now, but he deeply regretted not having called for help while everything had still been under control.
Grant was driving quite fast on the bumpy road, but still looked back to them and promptly failed to notice a pot-hole that jolted the car and elicited from Winters a low moan of pain.
"Could you watch the road and try not to get us killed?", Eugene hissed, rubbing his head where he had banged it on the door.
"Sorry", Grant mumbled, concentrating again on the road. At least it was not dark anymore, a dreary morning having followed the night. It must be shortly after eight, they would be back at the base earlier than planned. But Eugene could not have cared less, all he wanted to do was bring Winters to a hospital and then go to bed.
"Can't you give him something for the pain?", Grant asked Eugene after some minutes of silence.
"If I had something with me, I would have given it to him already", Eugene answered. "It's all the fault of these idiots from Able, they used all their morphine on themselves, now regiment decided that the medics wouldn't need any in the exercises. All I have now with me is some aspirin, but that's like trying to extinguish a bush fire with a glass of water."
They drove some time in silence, an endless row of meadows flitting past the window. Eugene looked back down to Winters and saw that he had pressed his eyes shut, breathing uneven and labored, and sweat trailing down his brow. Taking out a bandage, Eugene wetted the fabric with water from his canteen and wiped the lieutenant's forehead. Eyes glazed over with pain and fever opened at the touch.
"How are you holding up, sir?", Eugene questioned softly, trying to quench a sudden flare of fear at how ashen Winters looked. Like a corpse.
"...fine...", the lieutenant whispered, wincing in pain and shutting his eyes again.
Of course. Why had Eugene even bothered asking? He had received the same answer the last three times he had asked, just every time a bit weaker. At least no one could claim that Winters was a whiner. Catching Lipton's worried glance directed at them, Eugene just answered him by shrugging helplessly. There was absolutely nothing he could do and it slowly drove him insane.
"But he's going to be fine, right?", Grant spoke up hesitantly. That was exactly the question the others had tried to avoid for the past hour.
"Of course he is", Eugene answered, maybe just a tad too quickly. "It's just an appendicitis. They're probably treating that at the base every day."
That was most likely correct, but Eugene knew very well that they would have needed to bring Winters to the hospital hours and hours ago for this to be treated like a regular appendicitis. They had waited too long, there was a high risk of complications now. If the infection had already spread into the blood stream, this was probably it. Surgery and meds would come too late. And even if the infection had not spread already, there was the danger of lasting damage to the abdomen, which would probably end Winter's military career. Eugene tried to put these troubling worst case scenarios out of his head, only half succeeding. Well, what he was sure about was that Winters would be down for a long time, much longer than if Eugene had succeeded in talking him out of going through with the maneuver. But there was no point in regret, they could not go back.
He was not even sure why he was so upset, because of Winters himself, the fact that this was his first serious case or because he just hated to see people suffer. Probably a mix of all three things. He liked the lieutenant alright, but there was nothing like a deep friendship or some kind of emotional bond between them. Winters was his superior and like everyone else in this company, Eugene had found it quite hard to figure out their lieutenant or getting to know him better. It was difficult to face Winters with anything else but respect. Eugene also knew about the nickname the lieutenant had in their company: Red Machine. Precise, unflinching, emotionless.
However, Eugene knew that Winters was far away from being this inhumane automaton like some of the men wanted to paint him. The lieutenant cared deeply about this company, the responsibility of having to lead them into this war not resting lightly on his shoulders. But the only hints that spoke for this compassionate side of Winters was a concerned look every once in while, a frown that suggested annoyance or a slight twitch of lips that conveyed amusement. For people less observant than Eugene, all these signs might be overlooked, Winters appearing for them cold and detached. Eugene suspected that the lieutenant had built up all these walls for his own protection, not trusting anyone with what was going on inside him.
A faint moan beside him woke Eugene from his thoughts. Winters was by now rigid with pain, curled up on his side with both arms slung tightly around his stomach, as if he could keep away the agony this way. It was a shame that the first, but massive chink in Winter's armor had to be this illness, that showed everyone in a blatant way that their "Red Machine" was very much capable of human feelings.
"We're almost there, sir", Eugene soothed, his heart suddenly going out to his gravely ill lieutenant. "I can already see the hill beside the base. We'll be at the hospital in less than ten minutes."
He did not know if Winters had heard him, because he received no answer.
"There is Bill with the rest of second platoon", Lipton remarked, pointing at the troops walking at a brisk pace in front of them on the street. Grant honked, then reduced speed to drive slowly past the men, winding down the window. Eugene could see that his comrades were at the end of their strength, some of them dragging their feet and just stumbling along. Guarnere must have kept a tight regime to have made such good time in getting them back.
"Hey, can't we change places?", Luz begged exhaustedly while they drove past him, but Bull just waved at him with a faint smile.
"Nice ride", Guarnere commented when they reached him up front. The sergeant's face was sweaty and dirty like everyone else's, but there was still an iron grin on his lips. "Hope you did not forget the picnic."
"Can you get them to move still faster?", Lipton asked him, not reacting to the banter.
Guarnere sobered up instantly, peering into the car at Winters.
"That bad, huh?", he asked, frowning. "I'll see what I can do."
Under much complaining and groaning, the sergeant forced the tired men into a jog, trailing after the car. They reached the secured entrance of the base not five minutes later. As expected, the civilian car was stopped by the armed guards, who looked so baffled it might have been funny under different circumstances.
"What's the meaning of this?", a lieutenant asked, peering inside the car and obviously seeing uniformed soldiers.
"Sir, this is an emergency", Lipton explained. "We're from second platoon, Company E, 506th Parachute Infantry..."
"Yeah, I know who you are", the lieutenant interrupted, waving a hand impatiently. "But you're not expected back until 1100 hours. It's 0845 hours now. You're early, sergeant, and I have orders from Captain Sobel not to let you in until exactly 1100 hours. And no one said anything about a car."
"Sir", Lipton tried again, looking intently into the eyes of the lieutenant. "We need to get to the military hospital right away, this is an emergency..."
"Look", the lieutenant interrupted again, frowning. "It's always an emergency. Even the cooks bring in their potatoes as an emergency. Until I've spoken with Captain Sobel..."
"Damn it, our platoon leader is dying in here while you blabber on, for Christ's sake!", Eugene could not hold himself back from bursting out from the back seat. He was so angry he could feel himself shaking from head to toe. "We need to get to the fucking hospital, now!"
The lieutenant stared at Eugene with big eyes, only slowly comprehending that he was shouted at by some medic.
"You!", the lieutenant snarled, pointing at Eugene. "I won't tolerate this disrespect. I want your name and..."
"What's going on here?", a new voice cut in and Eugene could see Sobel bending down and looking into the car.
"Sir, we have an emergency situation here", Lipton tried to explain again in a calm voice, after having directed a glare at Eugene to get him to leave the talking to him. "Lieutenant Winters fell ill with appendicitis during the exercise, we need to get him to the military hospital right now. His condition is very bad."
Sobel peered through the open window at the hunched form of Winters on the back seat.
"You know, Sergeant Lipton", the captain began slowly. "Appendicitis is the illness that's most often faked in military service. That's statistics. You can complain a bit of stomach pain and you receive the week off. It's so easy."
Eugene felt himself bristling, but a warning look from Lipton kept his mouth shut. How could the captain seriously think that Winters was faking his condition? Everyone with eyes in his head could see that their lieutenant's appearance practically screamed for a hospital.
"Sir, we're very sure that Lieutenant Winters is really suffering from appendicitis", Lipton explained, battling for calmness. "Medic Roe has confirmed it and the lieutenant is running a high fever. He really needs medical attention right away."
"You won't die of appendicitis within an hour or two", Sobel commented derisively, then suddenly turned loud. "This is no excuse at all for the entrance you made. You're more than two hours early and you arrive here in a civilian car. Do you know how bad this makes me look? You failed this exercise and you bring shame on Easy company. It would have been better for us if you had not returned at all, seeing that..."
"Captain Sobel", a much welcomed voice clipped in. Colonel Sink suddenly appeared in Eugene's field of view, standing beside Sobel. "Maybe you're judging the lads a bit harshly. If an emergency required them to return earlier, then protocol states that immediate help shall be given to them. This is more important than some exercise."
Sobel looked at the colonel sourly, while Sink bent down to look at Winters.
"Lieutenant Winters?", the colonel spoke softly and frowningly. A faint moan of pain was the only answer he received.
"He's very bad off, sir", Eugene explained, feeling a bit self-conscious under the gaze of the colonel. "He might die if he doesn't receive immediate medical care, sir."
"And we wouldn't want that to happen", Sink answered, giving Eugene a tight smile, then continued much louder, "Get Lieutenant Winters to the military hospital right away. Guards, let them through!"
-TBC-