Caveat: This is a long chapter.
Thanks to Liliesshadow and Madame Minuit12 for their reviews. :)
Chapter 4: Life Threatening Revelations
The following hour was one of the longest hours of Lillian's life. Eugene Roe persisted on knowing why she had run out of the station the way she did. To drop the issue quickly, Lillian explained that she had received a letter from an old CO saying that a friend was dead. Eugene didn't press the issue further, but he was concerned that she was suppressing her true feelings. She had only received the letter an hour previous, and she definitely had strong emotions, considering she ran out of the aid station. He was worried that she was creating a shell to hide in. But those thoughts had to be pushed to the back on his mind for a while, and Eugene accepted Lillian as she was for now. He would bring it up again later when things had slowed down and they weren't running around. Lillian and Spina were bringing the last of the boxes to the jeep where all of the medical supplies were being put when she caught the end of a conversation.
"—divorcing me," she heard Captain Nixon say, folding and stuffing something into his pocket as she passed him.
"I'm sorry," replied Winters, sounding indifferent on the matter, but concerned for his friend's sake.
"She's taking everything. She's taking the house, taking the kid. She's taking the dog—it's not even her dog! It's my dog! SHE'S TAKING MY DOG!" Nixon then threw his helmet at and kicked the jeep. Winters didn't say anything, and Lillian turned around to see the fuming Nixon. Lillian and Winters exchanged a glance before looking away and heading off to their respective places, getting ready to move out. She was double-checking boxes in the truck when she saw Speirs coming up behind her.
"Hey Perconte, got a lighter?" Speirs asked, speaking around the cigarette in his mouth.
"No, sir. I don't smoke. Where're we heading?" Perconte asked.
"The Alps. Let me see that lighter," Speirs ordered. Frank sighed.
"The Alps? Why Bavaria?" Lillian thought.
"The Alps?" Perconte asked.
"That near Berlin, sir?" Denver Randleman asked.
"Nope," Speirs replied, igniting the lighter.
"Bavaria," Lillian said, turning around with box in hand.
"The birthplace of national socialism," Webster put in as Lillian loaded the last box onto the truck. "Have you been there Nurse Jenkins?"
"No David, just Algeria and Italy. I was just pretty good at geography and memorizing," Lillian explained, throwing her duffle over her back.
"So that means no dropping in Berlin?" Luz asked, tossing the baseball back into his glove.
"No dropping in Berlin. Hitler ordered the Waffen SS to hole up in the mountains. 'Repel all the invaders.' He wants them to start a guerilla war," Speirs elaborated.
"Invaders … damn, I like the sound of that." Lillian chuckled at Randleman's comment before she walked away. SS in the Alps, well, it was definitely different.
"Mind if I join this crowd?" Lillian asked, coming up to the closest truck she could find, not already full. Talbert and Malarkey, among others, smiled and greeted her. "Eugene! Didn't see you there," she said.
"You know Doc, Nurse Lil. Silent, but heavenly," Popeye joked, shoving Roe a bit.
"Is that the new version of 'silent but deadly' Robert?" Lillian asked smiling as Talbert, being the closest, helped her up into the jeep. Popeye shrugged as the men laughed, but one jeered,
"It's the paratrooper's dedication to the doctors, and nurses of course, everywhere!" The men laughed harder as the engines began to roar. Lillian started chuckling at the men's singing.
"He ain't gonna jump no more!"
"Hey Nurse Lil, weren't you telling Malarkey a while ago that you conducted a choir?" Talbert asked Lillian as they sat down next to each other.
"Should I ask why?" Lillian asked in response, looking at Malarkey who raised his hands in defeat.
"Maybe you can organize this shithole of men to sing properly because … I don't think those guys are doing anything to help," Talbert explained, nodding his head to the men that Lillian was chuckling at previously.
"My musical ears are bleeding," Lillian joked. Talbert was still looking at her.
"Oh Lillian, I think he's serious," Malarkey commented with a chuckle. Lillian cocked her head to the side with a hint of a smile, but nodded.
"Alright, alright. You want me to? I will. But that means, you have to cut in, be loud, and follow my lead," Lillian explained, standing up.
"We can do that. We have Toccoa men here!" Talbert proclaimed, to which the Toccoa men gave a cheer.
"If we can follow Captain Herbert Shithole Sobel, I think we can handle someone who is, by far, more reasonable," one of them commented.
"Ready?" Lillian asked, eyeing of the men. "I hope to hear all of your voices the loudest."
"The risers wrapped around his neck—connectors cracked his dome.
Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones!
The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground.
He ain't gonna jump no more!"
The tempo was easy to pick up for Lillian, based on the way the men were singing previously.
"Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.
He ain't gonna jump no more!"
As soon she started actually listening to the words, her face dropped slightly because she understood the reality of what they were singing all too well.
"He hit the ground, the sound was 'Splat!'—his blood went spurting high!
His comrades then were heard to say: 'A hell of a way to die!'
He lay there rolling round in the welter of his gore,
He ain't gonna jump no more."
She looked down a bit, but still moving her hands to the tempo to keep the men in line. But she brought her face back and forced a smile as they continued.
"Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.
Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die,
He ain't gonna jump no more!"
The men laughed about it, and Lillian too gave into a chuckle. "That was very nice harmony at the end … for paratroopers," Lillian shrugged, already expecting reactions from the men about the comment. She just laughed when some of them did.
"What's wrong with paratroopers knowing howda sing Nurse Lil?" Sergeant Grant called very loudly from his driving seat. Lillian smiled and walked towards the driver's seat.
"Absolutely nothing Sergeant Grant. My brother loved to sing, and he was pretty good at it," Lillian explained loudly, so he could hear it over the engine.
"Your brother's a paratrooper? I haven't heard a Jenkins round here before," Talbert commented.
"82nd Airborne. That's why," Lillian explained, turning back around. Talbert nodded.
"Such a shame. He could've had a good time with us," Talbert said, which made Lillian smile a little wider.
"Lillian," she turned to Roe, who was eyeing her in a concerned manner. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes Eugene, I'm fine. Please don't worry," Lillian assured. Roe only raised his eyebrows.
"Why wouldn't she be alright? … Did something happen?" Malarkey asked, confused. He looked back and forth between Roe and Lillian. She sighed and sat down next to Malarkey.
"A friend of mine, back in Italy, died of the influenza a week ago," Lillian explained. Malarkey's face dropped slightly.
"I'm sorry. Were you close?" Malarkey asked.
"We were … we went through training together, almost all of it anyway, and we were stuck in every post together; we both went to Algeria and both went to Italy. We didn't split up until I was reassigned with you boys. When I went California for my training, she had been there for a week or so."
Lillian chuckled to herself, but then explained to Malarkey, "We met at our first lunch break where she warned me not to get the bread because it was stale, hard as a rock and capable of breaking teeth."
Lillian leaned back and smiled, "After that, we just became friends. We'd hang out every break and shoot the breeze, complain about our day mostly. That's how we became really close. I'd say four or five weeks later we were shipped off to Algeria, or I should say some of the girls in our training unit. Algeria was nothing I had expected. It shaped up any nurse fast, and real fast because if you weren't ready at the drop of a hat, you were in trouble. Algeria was a smack across the face as to what this war was like."
Lillian shook her head and said quietly, "I had never seen carnage, or to that extent even, ever in my life. And how I managed to get through it is beyond comprehension."
"Diana! Grab a marker and follow me!" When Diana caught up with her towards the doors of the hospital, Lillian explained, "Take a marker. Write 'W' or 'M' on their forehead. Wounded or mortem."
"Mortem? Dead?" Diana said, shocked and somewhat offended.
"We can't be working on those we can't save, you know that." Lillian argued. "We need to save all we can because who knows if more are coming. Triage."
"More coming?"
"This wasn't a patrol gone wrong. Something serious is happening."
"I can't remember exactly how long we stayed in Algeria. Diana kept track—it was D-Day plus one hundred something. I think it was almost two hundred days. Then sometime in November, we were transferred over to Italy, the 94th, which was different to us. Different, stricter COs and XOs, we were an Evacuation Hospital instead of Station Hospital, everything was different. There were five of us, and the CO, at the time First Lieutenant Marie Fillion, was something else. I have never met a woman like her in my life! She's smart and good at what she does, but she always managed to keep herself focused on what she was supposed to do, no matter how crazy, drastic or horrific the situation. Marie and Diana both helped me to hone in on my weaknesses and strengths, so I could become the nurse I am now. These were the women I had read about and wanted to become in my own way, and it was all thanks to Diana who had helped me survive training …" Lillian was going to continue, but then catching herself, she chuckled in embarrassment before saying, "Sorry I … I usually don't go on like that." She stared out at the passing countryside without really taking any of it in.
"No, no—it's alright," Malarkey said, sharing a look with Roe. "She sounded like a great woman." Malarkey retrieved his canteen and held it out Lillian. "To Diana?"
Lillian smiled and uncapped her own and held it out. "To Diana," she repeated as their canteen clanged. They both took a sip before Lillian began to recap and reattach hers to her person.
"So now, I have question," Malarkey asked, and Lillian looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"Sure, shoot."
"How do you know German?" Malarkey asked, leaning back. Lillian laughed.
"Ah, thanks George, first Perconte, now this? I told him that in confidence," Lillian joked.
"The third day of training, I realized that there was this one girl, who was just always completely alone. I figured she just hadn't found a niche yet. So, I went up to her and sat next to her during one of our breaks. I introduced myself, and she seemed surprised that I came up to her. Her name was Ella, and she told me almost every other nurse in our unit had isolated her and thought she was a spy because her parents were fresh off the boat from Germany. You could tell from her accent," Lillian explained.
"And we go on talking about life, how I thought it was ridiculous and stupid and horrid of these girls to isolate her and call her a spy, we somehow got onto the topic of speaking the language. She said that she missed speaking her native language. She always used to speak it at home. Now, don't ask me how I thought of it, but out of my mouth, I proposed that she could teach me German."
Malarkey gave her a look, and Lillian laughed, "Alright, I was thinking where we were going to be sent, we were going to be interacting with Nazi soldiers, German civilians, or people who spoke German, one way or another. The way I saw it, Ella was already one step ahead of all the other nurses by knowing English and German. She didn't mind teaching me and thought it was a great idea. For the little time we had together, I'm not that bad. Well, as long as I'm asking about someone's health."
"That's pretty impressive though," Malarkey commented, nodding his head.
"You know German Nurse Jenkins?" Talbert asked, curiously. Lillian hesitated a moment before saying,
"Nur ein bischen," she replied.
"What does that mean?" Talbert asked.
"Only a little," Lillian explained.
"'You are now entering enemy territory. Keep on the alert.' Well, no shit," Popeye said aloud as their truck passed the sign. The men laughed.
Storming into houses and telling families they had five minutes to leave was something new to Lillian. The last people she had conversed with in broken German were POWs in Italy. They were not pleasant, and she hadn't wanted to talk with them anyway. Sure, the families weren't easy to persuade, but at least they listened and obeyed. What also struck her though, along the other men who caught onto it, was that almost every person said they weren't a Nazi. "No Nazis in Germany?" some of the men asked. It befuddled them; they had seen and fought them everywhere else, but there were none left in the 'Fatherland'? However, once they got moving, they saw Nazis, and plenty of them. Defeated, worn, but still marching with a sense of pride. Lillian decided to stand up and stretch, giving the other men on the bench some room to stretch out their legs and not sit so close together. She was marveling at the sight of so many enemy soldiers when she heard someone start shouting.
"Hey you! That's right! You stupid Kraut bastards—THAT'S RIGHT! Say hello to Ford! And General fucking Motors! You stupid fascist pigs! Look at you! You have HORSES! What were you thinking?" She recognized that furious yelling voice belonging to David Webster. She saw him yelling at the German soldiers before someone sat him down, but he got back up and continued yelling, "FOR WHAT? YOU IGNORANT, SERVILE SCUM—WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING HERE? HUH?"
Almost every man around her quieted and became tense. They had started asking themselves that same question more and more the longer this war dragged on. Sometimes, some of them couldn't even think of a reasonable answer to that question. She knew why she chose to enlist, but that was very different as to why there was a war to begin with. She certainly didn't know the answer. The 101st entered the little town of Landsberg for a rest and maybe for the night, and the evicting process began once again.
"I want to send out some patrols. I want Dog in the village, and Easy and Fox out in the woods," Winters said to Lipton, Speirs, Welsh and the other COs.
They began to give their orders as Lillian, Spina, Roe and a few others went into the biggest building and began to set-up their temporary aid station. The building they had been assigned was laid out for offices, so it was a little troublesome and difficult to set-up cots. But they had the most storage space they had seen in a long time. Roe told Lillian to find the nearest closet she saw and just start piling some of the boxes in. While she was organizing the boxes, she heard water running in a nearby room with someone sighing in relief. She quietly placed the box she had down and then looked around to find a door ajar. From what Lillian could see, it was probably a bathroom.
"Jesus Christ … that feels good." Lillian knew that voice. She slowly moved to the door, and she was right. Lillian opened the door to find the man leaning on the white, slightly rusty sink with his right hand running under water.
"Captain Nixon?" Lillian asked. Nixon looked up at her in surprise.
"Oh, Lieutenant Jenkins," Nixon greeted. "I was just—"
"Sir, what happened to your hand?" Lillian asked, seeing his wrist swelling and purplish-blue from where she was standing.
"Oh, it's nothing Jenkins. I just—" Nixon began to explain as Lillian shut the door behind her and moved towards him. "I'm fine, don't worry." Before Nixon could react or defend himself, Lillian had grabbed his wrist and moved it out of the water. He cried out in pain and clamped his eyes shut in pain, "OW! Jesus Christ!"
"I'm sorry sir, but you're not," Lillian said as she turned his wrist over to see the damage. Nixon winced. "This needs to be bandaged and taken care of, sir." Lillian turned off the water and walked to the door. "Eu—!"
"No, no, Jenkins. I'm fine, I can handle it myself." Nixon stopped her, taking her wrist, spinning her around and shaking his head. "You don't need to get Doc, I can handle this." She looked at Nixon. She considered calling Roe and ignoring the captain's wishes, but seeing Nixon's worried and pale face, she realized there was a reason why he didn't come to any of the medics for help.
"Stay where you are. I'll be right back. Keep your hand elevated … like this," Lillian explained as she readjusted his arm carefully to be upright. Nixon stood there confused, holding his forearm up as Lillian walked out of the room. She quickly rummaged through some of the boxes for tape, a splint or something else sufficient, ibuprofen, and some type of sling. She came back in and told Nixon to sit down on the floor. Lillian rolled up her sleeves and organized her things on the ground. He carefully sat down on the tile floor, looking at her curiously.
"What're you doing?" Nixon asked as Lillian began to carefully dry his hand and wrist.
"Bandaging your wrist. You're very lucky I caught you like this, sir. If you had waited much longer, this would've looked really ugly and hurt worse than now," Lillian explained.
"How could it hurt worse than now?" Nixon asked, dreading the thought as he winced again. Lillian began to examine the slowly decreasing swelling and said,
"Sir, you have a broken wrist."
"Broken?" Nixon repeated, his eyes widening.
"Yes, sir, and if you left it without some type of cast, the bone would try and heal itself the wrong way, causing more pain," Lillian explained before aligning a decent split she had found in their newly restocked supplies.
"Great," Nixon commented, somewhat darkly.
"How did you get this, sir? Do you know?" Lillian inquired.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got it … hitting a wall … or something," Nixon explained, not really looking at her and hesitating on what he was saying.
"You punched a wall, sir?" Lillian questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You must've hit it very hard sir, or the wall had to be made of brick because I don't think plaster or wood would do this damage," Lillian explained. Nixon eyed her suspiciously, but Lillian didn't look up. "When did the pain start?"
"It was probably two or three days ago."
"When or how long ago was that you hit this wall?"
"… Two or three days ago,"
"That was also the same day you got into a scrap with your jeep, sir, before moving out. Are you sure—?"
"Alright fine. Yeah, I'm the idiot who punched my goddamned jeep. Happy now?" Nixon angrily spat at her. Lillian did not falter in slightest and continued bandaging the splint in place. Nixon exhaled and wiped his face with his other hand.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I shouldn't've—"
"No, sir. You should've. I only asked for your sake," Lillian explained. Nixon's brow furrowed as Lillian looked up at him. "Telling me what exactly happened to your wrist helps me to assess the situation and also to proceed in the correct manner to make sure your bone heals properly," Lillian explained before looking down at his wrist, making sure everything was where it should be. Nixon gave a short laugh of amazement.
"You are that good," Nixon commented. Lillian looked back up in confusion. "That's why you're a lieutenant."
"Sir, I'm at the bottom of the food chain." Lillian laughed.
"Are you serious?" Nixon asked, surprised by the fact.
"Yes, sir. Every incoming nurse receives the rank of a second lieutenant now." Lillian continued, "And I don't believe I qualify for a rise in rank." Nixon opened his mouth to argue, but she added, "Even if I wanted one, sir." Nixon eyed her as Lillian continued on. Nixon gave into a slight smirk; she was okay. "Is this too tight, sir?"
"It hurts, but it's a hell of a lot better than it did," Nixon replied.
"Good." Lillian took out two pills, "This is ibuprofen. It helps to relieve the pain." Nixon gladly popped them in his mouth and swallowed them down with water.
"If it's alright for me to ask, sir, why did you get so angry that you thought hitting a metal jeep would make you feel better?" Lillian inquired. Nixon sighed, but remained silent. She remembered Eugene not pushing her too hard for information about Diana and how grateful she had been. Hopefully Captain Nixon would realize that it was better to talk something through, than letting it sit in your gut. Lillian hadn't been able to find a proper sling, but was trying to fashion something suitable from the cot linens when Nixon said in a quiet, bitter voice,
"You expect that those who said they would support you, will, even when you're gone two, three years. But then something like this always happens. They send you a letter, saying they can't wait any longer for you to come home. Among other things," Nixon went on. He was about to continue, but he saw her left forearm and the rather painful-looking scar as she continued working to get the sling to the proper length.
"Jesus, what happened to your arm?" Lillian looked down and remembered she had rolled up her sleeves. She looked back at Nixon; he wasn't supposed to see that.
"Oh, that. It's an old scar. A patient wasn't particularly fond of me," Lillian explained vaguely, holding out the finished sling. "Put your arm in here, sir." After a few moments of struggle and careful placement, Nixon finally got his arm into the sling.
Lillian then put a bottle into his good hand. "If the pain becomes really bad, here's for today and tomorrow. You can't take more than two in a span of four hours. After you finish that, if you finish it, you come to me. And sir, don't drink this with alcohol." Nixon stared at her as Lillian put the strap around his neck.
"Why are you doing this?" Nixon asked, seriously. "You probably should report me or something like that."
"Sir, I know from personal experience that sometimes people hold in things from others, trying to suppress it, trying to forget it happened because the rest of the world around them is just as confusing and frustrating. But eventually, people need to vent before it gets out of hand and they have too much to hide. I was only trying to help you because I'm a nurse," Lillian explained, adjusting the strap so he could wear it comfortably.
"And it's my job to make sure you and every other man I come in contact with make it through this war with as little injury, whether physical or emotional, as possible," Nixon nodded as Lillian quickly fixed the twisted strap.
"Do I have to wear the sling?" Nixon asked.
"If you want to heal and not hurt, sir, then yes. And you have to wear the sling for at least a week; the splint, two or three, depending on well and how fast your bone heals," Lillian said.
"I promise to keep it elevated?" Lillian looked at her superior's, admittedly, devilishly charming, smiling face. She smiled because she knew he put it on in hopes to persuade her in his favor.
"No sir, wear the sling. It'll help heal faster," Lillian said, shaking her head, cleaning up her supplies.
"What am I supposed to tell people if someone asks?" Nixon asked, standing up with Lillian.
"Tell them you fell down some stairs while you were trying to check out a house," Lillian shrugged as the two walked out. "Now if I see you without that splint or sling—"
"You'll have my head. I know that now," Nixon finished, nodding and raising his good hand in defeat. "Thank you Jenkins. You didn't have to do that."
"I did, sir. If I found that any later, Eugene might've ripped off your head," Lillian explained to which Nixon chuckled. "But, you're welcome." The two went off in their own directions. Lillian was pretty confident that despite Nixon's nice conversation with her, he wasn't right. She didn't know from what else he was suffering, but she was sure it was more than just his divorce.
There was something that war had brought out of Lewis Nixon. She needed to tell someone … someone to watch out for and after him. As if by chance, Major Winters came out of a nearby room, flipping through a folder. Of course!
"Major Winters, sir!" Lillian called to him, running as she did.
"Yes, Lieutenant Jenkins, what can I do for you?" Winters asked, turning around and looking up from his files.
"If you have a moment, sir, I'd like to speak with you privately about one of the men," Lillian explained, quietly. He looked around and saw that there was no one in really close distance from them, deeming the spot they were at okay. He nodded for to continue.
"Who exactly?" Winters questioned.
"Sir, it's Captain Nixon," Lillian replied, hesitantly. Winters' brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.
"What about him?" Winters persisted. Lillian shifted her weight uneasily, not sure how he would take it. However, she had told him about this issue before, and just because he had a more personal connection with the man in question, she should not sugar-coat the situation.
"Sir, Captain Nixon should be relieved from his duties for a while, or the very least his work and involvement should be cut down," Lillian said. Winters shook his head a little in bewilderment as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Besides the physical fact that his wrist is broken, any type of—"
"Broken?" Winters repeated.
"Yes sir, he … punched a jeep a couple of days ago. But any type of paperwork will be difficult for a few weeks with the sling and splint; he can probably sign paperwork, but not write and/or type work and files up," Lillian explained to Winters, who just stood there in amazement.
"However, the more concerning problem I wanted to address was his emotional state—"
"Jenkins," Winters started, "I know Captain Nixon—"
"The best of all sir, which is why I'm telling you. His divorce, I believe, isn't the only factor, and I think he needs to—"
"Lieutenant Jenkins," Winters cut her off, which immediately silenced Lillian. "I will take your concerns and carry them out how I see fit. That is all." Winters began to look back at his files and walk off, but Lillian, not ready to give up the fight quite yet, walked after him.
"But sir—" Lillian started, but Winters turned around.
"Jenkins. That is all," Winters said to her, seriously.
Lillian stopped in her tracks and looked at Winters. After a moment, he walked out of the building quickly, looking back at the files in his hand. Even though Winters was sure he sounded arbitrarily cold toward Lillian, he was just trying to protect his friend and keep Nixon's new state quiet because he noticed it as well. Lillian hesitated on going after him a second time, wanting making more of an argument out of it, and she went out just in time to see Frank Perconte run up.
"We found something, out on the patrol, we, uh, came across—" Perconte started, panting and trying to get his words out.
"What, what, what? Frank, Frank, what is it?" Winters asked, trying to get him to calm down and say it. But Perconte shook his head.
"I don't know sir. I don't know." He replied. "It's like a, like a giant enclosed—camp …"
"A camp?" Winters and Lillian asked simultaneously. Winters turned to see Lillian, who he only exchanged a quick glance with before turning back to Perconte.
"Barb wire fences easily ten maybe twenty feet high, smoke everywhere—that's how we noticed the area in the first place, sir. That and the people lined up against the fence—" Perconte continued.
"How many Frank?" Winters asked.
"I don't know, sir. I could only see those people at the gate before I ran here," Perconte explained.
"How many Frank? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? More?" Winters persisted.
"I'd say at least fifty around the gate, sir," Perconte estimated.
"What did they look like Frank?" Lillian asked. "Good? Not good? Pale? Red? Skinny? Fat? Describe them."
"Really skinny, really pale, but they were also in uh, these—uniforms, striped uniforms, and like I said, as soon as we saw that, I went running," Perconte elaborated. Winters and Lillian looked at each other, worry filling their thoughts.
"Jenkins, tell Roe I want every medic equipped and ready to move out in three minutes," Winters ordered.
"Yes, sir," Lillian nodded before running off.
"Frank, would you be able to direct us to this place, this camp?" Winters asked as Nixon and Speirs came up to Winters.
"Yes, sir," Perconte replied.
"Good, you'll ride with us." Winters turned to Speirs and Nixon. "Speirs, get the rest of Easy to move out in three minutes. Find Welsh, tell him that Dog and Fox need to be ready to move if they get the order."
"Yes, sir."
The drive through the forests filled everyone with curiosity as to where they were heading, except for those who overheard Frank Perconte's vague and hurried description; those people were tense and concerned as to what exactly Easy men found. Perconte then pointed to what they found in one of the few clearings in the forest. As soon as the camp came into sight, most of the men tensed and weren't quite sure what they were seeing.
"Jesus," Spina commented as the medics saw the camp. Nixon came up and talked to Roe as the rest of the medics gathered in a group, looking around in horror. Lillian's stomach plummeted; she knew that they hadn't found something good when Frank told them his description, and she was uneasy, but she never thought it was going to this bad. The stench of this camp, the way these men looked … it sent chills down Lillian's entire body.
"Alright, Captain Nixon says that we treat anyone and everyone that needs anything. There's an empty spot of land, right over there. That's where we'll set up and start treating everyone. We don't know what we're going to be up against, so just brace yourselves," Roe explained to them. "I want you to travel in twos and just start with line of people right there and go down until we get everyone. Lillian, with me."
"Eugene," Lillian said, going up to Roe, "that smell—?"
"That's why you bury bodies six feet under," he said, somberly. Lillian looked back at the camp in horror as Roe pointed to the other medics to start assessing the people and see how bad the situation was. The soldiers walked through the gates of the camp as soon as Christenson and Perconte opened the gates.
"Christenson, any of your men speak German?" she heard Winters ask.
"No, sir," Christenson replied.
"I need Liebgott. Liebgott! Lipton—find Liebgott," Winters ordered.
"Yes sir, Liebgott!" Lipton called out and moved through the men to get to him. Once Lillian broke free of the giant sea of men, her face paled, and her eyes widened.
"Oh my God," Lillian muttered.
"What's wr—?" Roe asked, looking to where she was looking but stopped. He swallowed uneasily, watching all the people coming out of the cabins. There were more than just fifty … this was more than a few hundred easily, maybe a thousand. Lillian had never dealt with, or seen this many obviously dying men.
"Eugene, have you seen this many—?" Lillian asked, completely shocked, but Roe shook his head.
"Nope. You?" Roe asked, but Lillian just shook her head as well.
"No … not even close," Lillian replied, quieter than before. She put her Red Cross helmet on and exhaled.
For what seemed like an eternity, Lillian only saw a sea of blue and dirty white stripes and gold stars; it just didn't stop. She became practically mechanical. Seeing their arms and legs, bone with skin and the skinniest she had ever seen, made her stomach churn and her blood boil. She could not imagine how someone would be able to deliberately kill these men in one of the worst and most disgusting ways. Some prisoners were in better shape than others, if you could even think that. Certainly none of these men were in good shape to begin with. Lillian could see the ribcages of just about every man she saw, the bones in their tattooed arms, legs and face, and the almost lifeless eyes.
Even though most were joyful and beyond words to express gratitude for liberating the camp, Lillian could see that their eyes held all of the pains and burdens that they had dealt with for however long they were in the camp. She could see Joe Liebgott interpreting a conversation between a prisoner and the officers. It didn't look like they were learning anything that made sense about the camp's existence.
"Lillian," Roe said, "can you go 'round the camp and see how the others are doin' and who else needs treatment? I can take care of anyone else who comes down here." Lillian nodded, slowly.
"Sure. And I'll see if the COs have learned anything more," Lillian replied, grabbing her musette bag and cleaning up the open supplies she was just using. She stood up as Winters came over to Nixon who had been watching Roe and Lillian for the past five minutes.
"I'm gonna call Sink. Find Speirs and find out how the hell to get them some food, and water," Winters said angrily as he walked away to go radio Battalion HQ. Nixon nodded, almost in a daze. Lillian massaged her forehead, closed her eyes and exhaled. She then walked further into the camp to see what could be done and who needed help.
Lillian had walked around the entire camp before the late afternoon, helping both prisoners and soldiers alike. Some of the soldiers were sitting in the ditches, just aghast and horrified by what they were seeing. She comforted them to the best of her abilities before moving on. Upon walking by Lipton and Liebgott, she overheard that these men were being held here because they were Jewish. All because of race; was that the only reason why Hitler waged war on the world? To eradicate the Jewish people? Lipton asked Liebgott if he was okay, and Liebgott replied something along the lines of "fucking peachy Lip" before Lillian moved on to the next cabin.
"Liebgott!" Lillian heard Nixon call as she came back to the front of the camp.
"Yes, sir?" Liebgott asked.
"We have to stop giving these people food and put them back in the camp," Nixon explained, soberly. Lillian turned around at that. Liebgott's face dropped at that, but then he looked away.
"I can't tell them that, sir," he said, shaking his head.
"You've got to Joe," Winters said to him. Liebgott looked up at Winters, who he knew couldn't be pleased with this either. After a moment, he nodded his head and muttered a barely audible, "Yes, sir," before walking off to the truck that was giving out the food. Lillian turned to find Colonel Sink on the scene talking to a major. She jogged over to him.
"Colonel! Colonel Sink!" the Colonel turned around and was pleasantly surprised at the voice that was calling him.
"Lieutenant," Sink greeted, surprise evident in his tone. Lillian saluted him swiftly. "How are you? I haven't seen you since I assigned you to the five-oh-six."
"I'm fine, thank you. But sir, why are we stopping the distribution? These men are in dire need of—" Lillian began.
"They're starving, Lieutenant," the major replied, seriously. Her head swiveled in his direction, "We give them too much to eat too quickly," Lillian's eyes closed for a brief second and then she sighed angrily.
"They'll eat themselves to death," Lillian finished, shaking her head.
"This is Dr. Kent, Regimental Surgeon. Dr. Kent," Sink introduced, "this is Lieutenant Jenkins, nurse transferred to the five-oh-six." Dr. Kent and Lillian shook hands.
"I don't like it any more than you, believe me," Dr. Kent began, shaking his head, which Lillian nodded to, "but if we don't supervise their food intake and medical treatment, they will die. We need to keep them centralized."
"Of course, sir," Lillian nodded, "I just can't believe I didn't think of that at first. Forgive my interruption—"
"It's alright. I'm sure you are a fine nurse, but you wouldn't've known unless you had liberated a camp like this before," Dr. Kent explained, shaking his head. "And I sincerely hope you don't have to use that knowledge ever again after today." Lillian turned around to see that the men were trying to put the prisoners back in the camp.
"Excuse me, sir. I should go help them," Lillian said before saluting the major, who returned the salute.
"Good luck Lieutenant," he said. Lillian nodded before heading towards the camp. She had no idea how to say "camp" in German, but she decided just to tell the prisoners that they needed to go back and that she was sorry. She hoped they understood how sorry she truly was.
"Es tut mir leit," I'm sorry. Lillian said, "Sie müssen zurück gehen." You have to go back. It worked for a few minutes, until she came across one particular prisoner who kept trying to leave the camp.
"Sie müssen zurück gehen," she said, tiredly. The prisoner fervently shook his head.
"Nein! Nein!" The man cried, trying to push her out of his way. He kept yelling, too quickly for Lillian to understand much. But he was angry. Unfortunately, she agreed with him in his anger. She was furious and believed no one could ever atone for such a horrible place.
"Sie versuchen zu helfen. Wir helfen, aber Sie müssen zurück gehen." They're trying to help. We're helping, but you need to go back. Lillian repeated herself several times, but this man just kept going. He was furious and yelling. Malarkey, watching from the jeep that was previously giving out food, turned to see Lillian talking or arguing with one of the prisoners. He couldn't really make out what was being said and her facial expressions because some of the taller men passed her.
"Wir versuchen, Ihr Leben zu retten!" We're trying to save your life! Lillian said.
"Nein, das machen Sie nicht!" No, they're not! The man cried, shaking his head, and he glared at her. "Was weißt du von unseren Besorgnissen?" What do you know of our concerns? "Du bist nur eine idiotische spottbillige Miststück!" the prisoner spat at Lillian, loudly. She froze, and chills shot down her spine at the words. Lillian's eyes widened slightly in horror, her mouth was ajar, and her breathing had become shallow as the man continued to stare at her.
She couldn't think of anything except when she had heard those words before. Lillian whispered, "Es tut mir leit," before turning away from the crowd. She retreated to the trucks. Malarkey saw her face, and he knew something was wrong. He swung himself off the jeep and started to make his way through. The man walked off after one of the MPs urged him on. Lillian felt sick to her stomach, and she wanted to get away from the men—now. Lillian kept moving away from the camp, but Malarkey stepped in her way.
"Lillian, are you—?" Malarkey asked.
"Yes, Don. I'm fine." Lillian replied, automatically. She went to move, but Malarkey stood in her way. She didn't make eye contact with him and continued to hide her face.
"Are you sure?" Malarkey asked, again.
"Yes," Lillian answered almost desperately, trying to go, but Malarkey once again stopped her.
"You don't look it Lillian," Malarkey started, shaking his head.
"Don, do me a favor, and just—leave me alone!" Lillian yelled, pushing him out of the way.
Malarkey tripped backward a little bit, but caught himself to see Lillian walk away briskly, hiding her face from everyone. Malarkey felt conflicted. He felt like he should go run after her and persist more, but he had never seen her like that before. He had no idea what that prisoner had said to her to make her so upset, and he wanted to know, but when his mother got that upset at home, his dad suggested giving her space. All he could do though was stand there, torn about what he should do.
Winters, tuning out Nixon's conversations with one of the COs, saw Lillian push Malarkey out of her way and storm away. He immediately noticed that something was wrong. Her usually calm and pretty face was hidden and tightened in anger, and her pace and posture showed obvious tension. Winters could only wonder what or who had made her angry. So, he took advantage of one of his only free moments since entering the camp and walked over to where she sat on the edge of a truck bed. Nixon, about to turn and talk to his friend, was surprised he wasn't there. He looked around, confused until he saw him talking to Lillian. He walked forward until he could hear them, but hesitated to interrupt their one-one. He leaned against the back of a jeep and listened.
"Jenkins. Are you alright?" Winters asked her, his eyebrows raised in concern.
"Yes, Major, I'm fine," Lillian assured him, unconvincingly however.
"Nice try. Answer me seriously this time: what's wrong?" Winters asked as Lillian looked downward before looking back up, becoming slightly fidgety with her arms. Winters noticed the curved, downward scar on her bare left forearm and looked back at her.
"There's nothing wrong, sir."
"Lieutenant—"
"Sir, I swear—"
"Jenkins, don't give me that—"
"Fine. Let me rephrase myself: it's not your concern, sir," Lillian answered angrily, glaring at him. That took Winters by surprise. Nixon knew that wasn't the right answer to give a superior officer in any situation. However, Nixon knew at this point Winters had feelings for Lillian. Whether it was purely brotherly or more romantic, he wasn't sure because he had seen both from his friend, but she should not have answered Winters like that. The look on Winters' face confirmed both thoughts for Nixon.
"Not my concern? Really? Well, it is my concern because if you want to stay with Easy company, you will answer your superior officer," Winters replied, his mouth tightening in anger. Lillian looked away, as if she were a spoiled child who didn't want to be punished. Nixon took note of his friend's building rage, but thought it best not to say anything. Lillian looked up into Winters' eyes. She was holding something back, and she was trying so hard not to let it out. Winters' persistence and angry, loud tone only made it worse, however.
"So, answer me Jenkins. What is wrong?"
"Why don't you ask some of the men, because you're probably not THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTS TO KNOW!" Lillian yelled in his face, becoming louder as she went on. The men nearby, who weren't previously watching the scene unfold, were definitely paying attention now. "I have to go help Eugene … excuse me Major."
Winters' eyes had gone wide, and Lillian stormed down the road back to town. That had never happened before. As far as the men of Easy company knew, Lillian had never yelled, never mind in such an angry manner, at anyone. In fact, they were pretty confident that they had never seen her angry at all. She was usually happy given the circumstances and could easily cheer anyone up. The way she was acting and how she looked surprised anyone that was watching. It was practically the same story for Winters. The men of Easy could count on one hand how many times they had seen him really angry. But, no one had ever retaliated in this type of manner. Winters was respected and known throughout most of the companies as one of the greatest leaders in the 101st. Not many people saw any good reason to yell at the man. Winters stood there, hands on his hips, looked down, and sighed.
"Nixon!" he called, not knowing his friend was behind him.
"Yeah Dick?" Nixon asked. Winters turned around, surprised to find him there.
"Did you see—?" Winters began to ask, but Nixon cut him off.
"I didn't catch anything except for when she was yelling at—" Nixon explained, shaking his head.
"That doesn't help Nix," Winters cut him off, agitatedly.
"Jenkins yelling at Malarkey doesn't help you to find out why she just had a cow? Really?" Nixon questioned. Winters eyed his friend and thought for a moment.
"I want Malarkey—right now," Winters demanded.
"Sure thing, Dick," Nixon replied cautiously, nodding his head. He walked a little ways and called, "Malarkey! Major Winters wants you here, now." Malarkey looked at the men who he was talking with and then jogged over.
"Sirs?" Malarkey asked, feeling a bit nervous. He witnessed what had happened, and he wasn't sure what Winters was going to ask of him.
"Malarkey, did Lieutenant Jenkins yell at you?" Winters asked, his voice returning to an even and calmer tone. Malarkey nodded his head after a moment.
"Yes, sir," he exhaled.
"Why? What happened?"
"Something was—is wrong with her, sir. I tried to ask her about it, to see if I could help, but she told me nothing was wrong. I asked again, same thing. I asked one more time, she yelled at me and pushed me out of her way," Malarkey explained as Winters looked down and nodded. "Sir, if this helps, she was talking with one of the prisoners before I went over to her. I went over because the guy said something to her, and she just stopped talking."
"Talking with one of the prisoners?" Winters repeated, replaying what Malarkey explained in his head. He crossed his arms across his chest in contemplation. "Wouldn't that mean—?"
"She'd have to speak German?" Nixon finished for Winters, who nodded, thinking the same thing. Winters looked back at the jeeps where Lillian was fixing or doing something with her musette bag.
"She can speak German, sir. Well, a little, I don't really know how well. But she understood something," Malarkey attested. Winters thought for only a moment more.
"Nix, I'll be back." Before Nixon could say anything, Winters had walked off. Nixon and Malarkey watched him go and exchanged a look.
"Sir, is Major Winters alright?" Malarkey asked Nixon. Nixon nodded after a moment, watching Winters paid no heed to the other soldiers who were passing by and saluting him and walking straight out of the camp.
"Yeah … he's known her a while, he's a family friend, and he's just concerned," Nixon explained. Malarkey nodded slowly before he was dismissed. Lillian had stopped by one of the jeeps farthest away from the camp entrance. Winters walked slowly over to her. Lillian looked up at her superior, not having lost any of the emotion that he had seen a few minutes ago.
"Tell me," Winters demanded, but quieter than before. Lillian cocked an eyebrow, questioningly.
"Tell you what exactly, sir?" Lillian asked, testing her limits with her tone and implications.
"You know what," he replied, keeping his voice even. Winters nodded to her left arm. "I saw your scar. As far as I know, nurses don't get injuries like that spending a day in the hospital." Lillian looked down at her now concealed arm and glared at Winters. "And, I know you certainly didn't learn German back home because your parents would not have allowed that," Winters said, rather seriously. Lillian's weight shifted, and she looked downward. "It's just the two of us," Winters said, trying to get her to talk, but seeing no response, he added hesitantly, "Lily, please." Lillian lifted her eyes to his at the sound of her old nickname. "Tell me what's wrong." She didn't answer him for a while.
"The scar … it came from a prisoner," Lillian answered, defeated. "Back in Italy, there was a prisoner snatch, and two were wounded—two others had died. They immediately sent them to us, so we could get them to survive until they could be interrogated. Two SS soldiers. Since I was the only nurse who knew any German in the 94th, I was assigned to watch them, just in case they started to talk. It didn't matter that I could barely understand the damned language, but, they did start to talk. They were talking something about codes and their superior. I told my CO about it, and she told me to keep her posted on anything else I could understand."
Lillian had not looked at Winters when she was talking. He could see the pain and disgust of the memory that she was reliving. She looked upward towards the sky and looked around the forest and camp.
"One of the prisoners was complaining about his pain in German one day. He was disrupting and waking up the other patients, so I told him, stupid of me, in German that I would give him some morphine to ease the pain and help him sleep. They both looked at me positively flabbergasted—I just assumed that he didn't expect me to speak German. I'm pretty sure he asked me how long I had been in the hospital, and how I knew German. I thought he was being friendly. How naïve I was." Lillian shook her head.
"I told him three months, and tried to explain about my friend who taught me, but I really only can talk about medical things. So, as I'm getting my syringe ready, the other soldier grabbed me from behind," Lillian blinked involuntarily as she could remember those strong, large arms and hands that encompassed her waist and held her arms. "And he whispered …" Lillian licked her lips and shook her head. He could hear his raspy voice in her ear, and she could feel his hot breath tickling the back of her neck.
"Was it the same thing that one of these prisoners said to you?" Winters asked.
"How do you know about the prisoner?" Lillian questioned.
"Was it or wasn't it the same?" Winters reiterated his question in a firm voice.
"Idiotische spottbillige Miststück," Lillian whispered after a moment. "That's what both men said. But that wasn't all the he did."
"The man here?" Winters asked.
"No, in Italy," Lillian clarified, and Winters nodded. Lillian very vividly remembered the white hot pain, but chilling sensation accompanying it quickly flying down her arm as she yelled in pain. "He … had taken my scalpel when I wasn't looking, and the scar was where he cut. I still don't know if it was intentional or not, but when he pushed me down so he and his friend could make their escape, the scalpel plunged into my shoulder blade, the right one."
Lillian remembered barely breaking her fall and not damaging herself more. She unconsciously rolled back her shoulder as she continued, "I saw my wound on my arm and quickly went to grab something to stop the bleeding because … it wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop bleeding."
She remembered trying to find something to stop the vibrant red blood from oozing down her arm. She ended up grabbing a flimsy piece of paper that covered the small bedside stand, and she pressed and wrapped it tightly on her arm.
"I turn around to see where they went and call for help, but then I heard gunshots. The two prisoners were on the floor, yelling in pain. I looked up to see that my CO had shot them in the knees, a non-fatal injury so that they could still be interrogated."
Marie Fillion held the gun in her hand steadily, her arm did not falter, and her eyes were fixed on them with absolute fury. Marie looked up to see Lillian as the MPs came in. Marie's eyes widened, and she then threw the gun aside, beginning to run over to Lillian.
"I had never seen such determination and fury in those eyes, and that scared me, but from that day on, I admired her for her willingness to act. My friend came up to me, and that's all I really remember. They told me afterward that I had fainted from the blood loss."
Lillian swallowed slowly and uneasily before exhaling shakily, creating a silence that made Winters' emotions run wild as he watched her. "You want to know something else, sir? I found out from my CO, after I woke up, that the only reason why that happened is because the SS men thought I had learned about their unit's plan to take down one of the US bases not far from the hospital, which I didn't know. The MPs managed to transport them to a more secure place and interrogate them while they were chained to their hospital beds."
Winters looked away and then looked back at Lillian, not sure what to say. "Satisfied?" Lillian asked, somewhat harshly, but her eyes gave away her hurt.
"No. No, I'm not," Winters said, quietly. Lillian turned to look at Winters with tear-filled eyes. She didn't know how to take what he said.
The moment was broken, however, when Winters was called for. Both of them knew they had to move and get back to what they were originally doing. Lillian turned away and pretended to be putting her medical supplies away in her musette bag. Winters hesitated a moment before turning back towards the camp. Lillian turned back around and watched him go back into the camp. For some reason, she expected more than just that. Richard Winters knew her too well. She knew that he knew she needed space. She sighed and massaged her temples before she grabbed her musette bag and walked back towards the camp to see if Roe needed assistance with anything.
Winters, after finishing his conversation with Colonel Sink, hesitated on calling for someone. He wasn't sure if he was going to like the answer; if Lillian didn't tell him what those German words meant, it had to be something she knew he wouldn't want to hear. Well, the first word sounded like his grandpa calling someone an idiot, so that was one word possibly. But the other two words he couldn't think of any word in English that sounded similar. Winters made up his mind and went further into the camp. He had not seen her that shaken up before. Whatever that man said, made her relive that horrible memory and made her act like that, and it pained Winters to see that. It pained him like when he saw his men distraught and hopeless over a dead comrade, but … it was somehow even stronger than that. Different too. He couldn't quite explain it, but he needed to find out what was said.
"Liebgott!" Winters called to him before beckoning him. Joe jumped off the Jeep he was on and walked over to Winters.
"Sir?"
"Joe, can you translate something?" Winters asked Joe. He nodded.
"Sure, sir. What is it?" Joe asked Winters.
"Uh, spott-something, spottilch?" Joe thought about it for a moment with a puzzled face.
"Spottbillig, sir?" Joe asked. Winters nodded.
"Yeah, that was it, and uh, mist-stuck?" Winters asked.
"Miststück? Spottbillige Miststück? Jeez," Joe said.
"Yes, what does that mean?" Winters demanded.
"Nothing nice, sir. It means 'dirty' or 'filthy bitch'." Joe explained. Winters' face dropped as the words came out of Joe's mouth.
The 101st was glad to be leaving the camp in the hands of the 10th Armored and heading on to Thalem, Germany. It was just another place, another town they had to stop in and take control. A group of locals had pulled four chairs from the rubble and were playing a somber, calming piece of classical music in the middle of the smoking, saddened, destroyed town square of Thalem. People were moving around, clearing everything from piles of rubble, young and old men and women. Piling whatever seemed undamaged enough to keep in carts, whether it was chairs with cushions still on them, broken tables, pieces of bedroom furniture, you name it, and it was there. The MPs were organizing the cleanup and keeping everyone in line along with asking for and giving information and instructions.
"Tell you thing about the Krauts, they sure clean up good." Lillian heard Luz comment as she walked up to the destroyed building some of them had occupied themselves in, just watching.
"Yeah."
"Hi boys, enjoying the view?" Lillian asked, coming in and taking a seat by Webster and Randleman.
"To say the least," Luz replied to Lillian's question.
"Hey Nurse Lil," Perconte greeted her.
"Anyone injured down there?" Webster asked her.
"Did you help them?" Perconte also asked, turning to her.
"Two people with a broken bone or two. A few scratches and cuts. Nothing too serious." Lillian shrugged. "It's pretty calm out there right now,"
"All you need's a little Mozart." Liebgott commented.
"Beethoven," Nixon said as he walked in, and he looked better, or better than he had been in a while. That's what Lillian thought; not many of the men really knew, but they saw something was different about him. However, over the past couple of weeks, Lillian had learned plenty about Lewis Nixon. Some parts, she wasn't even sure what to make of; Lillian was certain though, as long as she kept quiet, things wouldn't get out of hand. She kept quiet, and nothing did. Lillian, listening to the music, nodded. It had been so long she heard Beethoven … she had forgotten what it sounded like.
"Sorry sir?" Liebgott asked.
"That's not Mozart. That's Beethoven," Nixon said, nodding his head. They continued to watch for a little while longer before Nixon, out of nowhere, said, "Hitler's dead." Every head went up and looked to Nixon.
"Holy shit," Liebgott commented, who spoke for everyone.
"Shot himself in Berlin," Nixon elaborated.
"Is the war over, sir?" Randleman asked, speaking for everyone's next thought.
"No. We have orders to go to Berchtesgaden and move out in one hour," Nixon explained. The men all looked at each other and stood up.
"Why, the man's not home," Webster protested. "Should've killed himself three years ago. He would've saved us a lot of trouble," Webster commented, dejectedly.
"Yeah, he should've … but he didn't," Nixon agreed, letting Lillian walk down the stairs before him.