Alfred dropped his seabags on the floor of his barracks, his body completely spent. He had spent two weeks on a cramped ship filled with sailors, soldiers, and rats, and now he had finally made it to shore. Well, mind you, it was a shore an entire ocean away from home, but it was a shore nonetheless.

He had made it to England in one piece, but there had been no shortage of close calls. Fear of German u-boats had always been present, and one time, the ship's fears had been realized. A torpedo had shot up out of the water just short of the ship's hull, narrowly missing a chance to send the ship to the bottom of the ocean.

Alfred had kept to himself for the most part, since he was the only Marine on board. He still wasn't entirely sure as to what his assignment was, but from what his orders had told him, he was to take a ship to England, and someone would meet him at the port to take him to where he was to stay. There, he would learn more about what he was there for. All that was mentioned was that he was to tell no one of the nature of his assignment to England, not that he knew too many details anyway. Besides, who would he tell, Hitler? He had no one to talk to about normal, everyday things, not to mention anything secret or actually important. He was lonely, and he would be the first person to admit it. He had entirely too much time on his hands on the ship, so he occupied his time by writing letters to Sarah Jane that he planned to send as soon as they landed in port.

He also had plenty of time to think. Many times, he looked back on the night at the fair and wondered if he had made a mistake. He had let everything get away from him, and if he was honest with himself, he was ashamed that he had let it go so far without even knowing the girl in the slightest. If he could have that night back, he might not have done it the same. If he got Sarah Jane into some sort of trouble because of what he did, he'd never forgive himself.

The door of his barracks burst open, and Alfred spun around to see who it was. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway, a wide grin on his face.

"Alfred F. Jones," his voice boomed, "am I glad to see you!"

Alfred frowned, confused. "Sir?"

The man extended his right hand, and he and Alfred shook hands. "Major Peter Ortiz, good to meet you!"

Alfred smiled. He had heard incredible things about this man. "You as well, sir."

"Now corporal, I have to ask you something." The major leaned in close, a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "Want to do something exciting?"

"Sir," Alfred replied, "more than you know."

-x-x-x-

Alfred and four other men all sat in a back room of the barracks two days later, waiting on Major Ortiz to arrive. The five men had all introduced each other already, and were now talking about what they knew about why they were all gathered, and about the nature of what they were to be doing, which was just about nothing.

"I did hear this one thing about Ortiz," Brunner said with a smirk. "I mean, the man's a legend. So get this. He's in his civi's in a bar in Lyons, and there are some German officers there. They're drinking, and all of a sudden they start trash talking FDR. Ortiz just keeps sipping on his drink. And then they start trash talking the United States. He keeps sipping. And then they have the gall to damn the Marine Corps. Well, Ortiz had heard enough. He gets up, cool as a cucumber, and leaves. A few minutes later, he comes back wearing a raincoat and orders a round of drinks for everyone. Once all the drinks are served, he throws his raincoat off to reveal his uniform and pulls out his .45. The Germans are shocked. He gets in front of them all and says, 'A toast to the President of the United States!'. Everyone drinks, and then he orders another round. This time, he says, 'A toast to the United States!'. Everyone drinks, and then be buys another round and says, 'A toast to the Marine Corps!'. Once they finish drinking, Ortiz backs out of the bar and is gone. The man's incredible."

Alfred shook his head with a laugh. "Incredible is certainly the right word."

Bodner piped up now. "So, anyone know what the heck we're doing here exactly?"

"That seems to be the question of the evening," Alfred turned to face two men who had just walked into the room. One of them was Major Ortiz, the other man Alfred didn't know. "And gentlemen, I have all the answers." Ortiz flashed a smile, and spoke again. "I'm Major Peter Ortiz, and I'll be your commanding officer for this mission. This is Army Air Forces Captain Frank Coolidge, you're to listen to him as much as you listen to me." Alfred nodded to Coolidge, and he nodded back.

"This mission on which we are about to embark on is top secret," Ortiz bellowed, "Code named 'Union II'. We'll be going to the Vercors Plateau in the Haute Savoie region, close to Normandy. There's a large population of French Resistance in hiding there, and in desperate need for weapons and supplies, so we'll be making a delivery to their front step. They'll be down on the ground radioing us into the DZ. Shouldn't go off with much of a hitch if we can get in and out fast, but there's a heck of a lot of Krauts down there that would love to put a US Marine six feet under, so I wouldn't be too careful. You all will be provided weapons, maps, and other equipment you may need for when you drop down. Francis will be flying for us, and from what I understand, is quite the pilot." Everyone turned to face the Frenchman, who smiled at Ortiz. Alfred's first thought was that Francis desperately needed a haircut. "Jump day is August 1. Any questions?"

A chorus of men replied, "No sir."

"Good! I sure do have a fine bunch of men here. The free world thanks you, as do I."

Alfred smiled. He was feeling good about this mission, and about his fellow Marines. He was still unsure about Francis, but if Ortiz had taken him on, then he decided that he couldn't be that bad. He might even turn out to be a friend, even though the man didn't speak a word of English. However, Alfred thought, friendship can extend over the language barrier, can't it?

-x-x-x-

"So… Any of you have a girl?"

The lights had already been turned off, but the men were still up talking. The subject of girls was bound to come up, and all of the men were proud to show off their ladies. Pictures were passed around, and Alfred caught a sliver of sadness in his chest. He didn't have a picture of Sarah Jane… Heck, we don't even have a relationship hardly, we just slept together. How could I have been so stupid, honestly. He had a letter to Sarah Jane ready to be mailed in the morning, but he opened it up and added a note at the bottom of the page for her to send a picture with her next letter. He laid the letter on his chest as he talked with the men, and he promised to show them all a picture as soon as Sarah Jane sent one. That's when they asked Francis about his girl. Alfred fully expected for the suave pretty-boy Frenchman to spout off about his lovers, but his silence made Francis frown. That's when he listened to Perry translate what Francis said. The news about Francis' betrayal by the one he was to marry shocked him into silence. I think he's got it a bit worse than you, Alfred, he thought to himself. That's when he picked up the letter from his chest and read it again to himself.

Sarah Jane,

I've finally made it to Europe, and am stationed in a semi-permanent place now. I sure do miss you. I know that we were awful rushed once we met, and that I had to leave as soon as I met you, but that couldn't be helped. I took advantage of you that night, and for that I'm sorry. I promise, that as soon as I get home, I'm going to court you properly, and buy you flowers, and take you to the movies, and kiss you under the stars, and meet your parents, the whole shebang.

I wish you were here right now. This war sucks, but thinking of you makes it bearable.

If you hear any news about another Marine named James Smith (he's been my best friend since grade school), please write me and let me know.

Always yours,

Corporal Alfred F. Jones, USMC

P.S.- If you sent me a picture in your next letter, then that would make me so happy!

Once he finished reading, he folded the letter back up and stuffed it into its envelope. He then slipped it under his pillow for safe keeping until the morning. For how long he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he didn't know, but he eventually fell asleep to the sound of snoring Marines and a French summer night.

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