I watched as the last bit of American soil was drifting away from us as we were on the Atlantic Ocean. It was 1943, another year in the army came and went I was seeing my own home float away from me, the cool sea air was running through my hair and fitting my freckled cheeks as I closed my eyes, praying to myself that my family would be safe. I doubted New Orleans would be under heavy attack from anyone outside of America, but it was still a worry for me. The farther I was getting from them, the closer I was going to war. After writing to them one last time before I gave them my new address, I kissed the envelope and hoped they would somewhat feel my kiss when they touched the paper in the mailbox. It was a silly thought, but it was there.
Clutching the Saints pendant on my army jacket that I wore, I tried to picture my family in my head, happy and safe. I said the Doxology prayer I have known since I was a child, a prayer I would use in times of peril and fear that would come in my life. My mother taught me the prayer, reciting it over me when I would go to bed.
Praise God to Whom All Blessings Flow
Praise Him all creatures, here below
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen.
Hopping down a few steps at the level where I was staying at, I heard the regular talk amongst the soldiers as I shrugged off my jacket, wearing my t- shirt and army pants with the red cross on the back of the shirt. My hair was getting ridiculously long, since being in Fort Benning for awhile I've been wishing I could cut it. Thankfully there was a nurse who's husband was a barber and she was going to cut my hair. I walked through a corridor for a while then turned left, knowing that just a few yard up was the main area where most of the soldiers were sleeping. I had my now quarters with a few other nurses who were coming overseas with us for the war. We each had a bed, my own was on the floor level and I sat down, undoing my laces of my boots before kicking them off. The rest of the nurses were out doing some of the inventories, giving me some time alone with my own thoughts as I felt the dog tags around my neck. They felt heavy, heavier than before since the thought of war was on my mind. I had to think of something else, anything else.
"Hey Red." I head ahead of us, having me look up and see that it was Bull, whom was leaning against the frame of the door into my quarters and having a small smile on his face, "Didn't see you when we were up top watching the Statue of Liberty. You okay?" I smiled at him, seeing the genuine look of concern on his face as I nodded my head.
"Just thinking of home is all, Bull." I replied back, having me notice that he nodded his own head.
"Is it okay if I come in?" He asked me, pointing into my room. I nodded, watching as he walked in and sat on the cot with me, leaving some space between us as he continued, 'I thought of home too. Hell, we all did once we saw that statue."
"Where's home for you?" I asked, having me see him look down at his folded hands that were resting on his knees.
"Arkansas." He replied, "Nothing real special about it. I figured I would come out here and see the world, and be a hero and all."
"Isn't that what we all signed up for?" I asked him in a shrug.
"Possibly." He answered, "But then again it all changed once we got here." We both were quiet then, having me see him look at my jacket that I had on the chair next to my bed. I watched as well, having me see that he was looking at my Saints pendant on the top of the jacket, glimmering in the light of the room.
"You religious?" He asked me, curiosity laced in his tone.
"Catholic." I replied.
"So is half the Company, which is why we like you so much." He said in a grin, shoving me with his own shoulder and having me grin. He was a comfort to be around, something too stressful or too much.
"And Liebgott?" I asked, already thinking of Joe and how I thought he must have been Jewish.
"Catholic, but he's ethnically a Jew. He told me that our second day at camp, not that I have anything against it." He explained, having me think of Joe and how that somewhat made sense. He acted like a Catholic, in the sense of being a bit on the brash side and knew his moral code.
"Why you ask?" Bull pondered with me, but I shook my head.
"Just wondering." I replied, but the look I was getting from him showed that he was not buying it.
"Let me guess, you're a bit smitten with him. Is that it, Red?" He asked me with a cheeky grin. It was my turn to shove him with my shoulder.
"I'm not smitten with anyone." I replied, but Bull shook his head in defiance.
"That's not what I saw at the bar the other night, when he came to help you from that drunk bastard." He reminded me, having me say nothing and look at my own folded hands. I sighed in defeat, knowing that my actions were being watched by the rest of the company. This was a fear of mine, to be judged and not looked at in the right light.
"I don't want to be seen as something that is not appropriate, none the less morally right." I said aloud, having my own tone sound sour when I said it. It was true, I didn't want to be seen as someone who was whoring around with whomever I pleased. I was here to be a nurse, nothing more or less.
"No one sees you like that, Red." Bull reminded me in a gentler tone, which was for him, still low and deep, "We just see that you and Liebgott are good friends…" But before he could finish, we could hear yelling and a scuffle happening. Both Bull and I shot up from my bed and shot out of my room, running down the hall and into the main sleeping room. There was a mass group of men there, all of them who were screaming at two people to stop fighting with each other. The other soldiers were triyng to break them apart, but it was no use since whoever was fighting was making it hard to stop.
I shoved my way through, Bull behind me as we were making out way to the middle of the fight. Right in the middle was an angry and flustered Private Guarnere, who was punching hard in the face Joe Liebgott. My heart dropped to the floor, seeing him being mangled but throwing his punched at Guarnere and having him bleed. I grabbed his sleeve, throwing him off of Joe and then hearing the shouting drop to a dead silence since the whole company was seeing me in the middle of the fight. I was holding Guarnere in a death grip on his jacket away from Joe, who was holding his bloody cheek and nose as I eyed the both of us.
"You two need to knock it off before we are all in hell with Sobel." I said to the both of them, looking from Guarnere to Joe, whom looked pissed still but was silent. Guarnere was still breathing heavily as I heard Bull behind me.
"What in the hell happened?" he asked to the both of them.
"He used a term that I don't appreciate." Joe muttered from his busted lip, having me look back at him and see that this was a bit personal for him, from his stance and how he was feeling about the situation.
"What was it?" I asked him, then looking back to Guarnere.
"Son of Abraham." He gasped out, having me drop my hand on his jacket as soon as he used the term. Son of Abraham, which clearly meant Jew. I would be pissed too if that was being tossed around like it was nothing. I sighed, looking at Joe. He looked worse in his condition, lip and cheek bloody and his nose looking blue. I reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Come on."
"Hold still or it'll sting worse." I reminded him, seeing him squint as I dabbed his nose with the ointment. We were in the medical wing of the ship, after me dragging him off from the fight to get him checked out before he looked worse. Bull held back Guarnere, who was not down with him since he got him good in the eye. Joe followed without being budging, knowing that it would be wearing it he argued with me. I got him on an examination table, already fixed his lip and working on his nose before I moved to the cheek.
"Sorry." he muttered as I got more blood off his skin near the bridge of his nose. I shook my head at him, still amazed that he did something like this to another person on the Company.
"So you punched him for calling you a Jew?" I asked, wanting to get to the button of it. He sighed, shaking his head as I got another fresh towel for his face.
"He used in a way that I didn't like." He replied, having me smirk at him as I got the rest of the blood off.
"Does it occur to you, that you're a bit impétueux?" I asked, using the French term in front of him. He looked at me confused.
"You're really gonna use French on me?" He asked me, a bit agitated. I rolled my eyes.
"Fine: hotheaded." I translated for him.
"Oh," He replied casually, "Not really no."
"Well, you are, and something I wonder how long you're gonna be that way until you get seriously hurt." I warned him, having me move a way from to the other table that had the rest of the medicine that I was going to use on him. He snorted, clearly not liking what I was saying.
"This coming from the girl who's fine with voicing her opinion and gets a rejection back." He retaliated, having me roll my eyes and face him once more, leaning against the counter and watching him. He was still agitated, and he was willing to try and fight me along the lines of his personality. I called his hotheaded, and he was trying to call me brash.
"Way to try and make me want to help you out here Joe." I said back to him, watching him as he looked back down at his lap in defeat. I must have hit him hard in the stomach when it came to pride. I walked over, carefully placing my hands on his cheeks, one of them still bloody and aching, and I had him look at me since we were both eye level now thanks to him sitting on the table.
"You need to pick your battles, and pick them carefully. One of these days you will be worse of than this." I reminded him, seeing him watch me carefully as I drew that hand on his bloody cheek away, showing his blood on my fingers and giving him a small smile. He said nothing, having me wonder what was going on in his mind.
"It's harder than it seems though, Marley." He confessed, having me give him a small smile as I placed that hand back on his cheek.
"Try, Joe. Try for me." I urged him, seeing him give me a broken smile that made my own heart break just seeing it. I wanted to hug him, to take away that pain of being insulted or placed in pain, but my own body was telling me to stay there and only watch him.
"Anything for you, Marley La Noux." He vowed to me, the cocky grin was back on his face as I grinned at him again, placing my hands down from his heated cheeks and grabbing a towel for his cheek, dabbing it carefully.
"Quit flirtn' with me and hold still."
"I'll try, though it'll be hard."
"This is how you make a letter A." I said aloud, showing my fist with my thumb to the side to the group of Easy Company. The day after the fight broke out between Joe and Guarene, I decided to start teaching the boys Sign Language. I wanted to first start with the alphabet and show them how to finger spell, since once they mastered that then they can spell to each other with ease. It was late one night on the ship, with the rest of the soldiers and nurses asleep, the opportunity was perfect.
Joe and Guarene were separated from the moment they entered the room: Joe on one side where Bull was and Toye and Guarene on the other side where Peconte and Malarky. Joe looked a bit better already, though his cheek was bruised beyond belief and his lip was still too big for my liking. Guarene had a nasty black eye, and his neck was a bit sore from the incident.
The boys tried to mimic what I was doing with their own fists. Some of them got it, though the rest were still confused.
"Look to how my thumb is on the side right here, see?" I asked, pointing with my spare hand to my hand that was making the letter. The body were looking at their own fists as examples and I saw them make the fix. This was a bit hard for me, though I helped some of them and placed their hands and fingers in the right place. I went on with the letters up to K since using the whole alphabet in one night would be too much. After each letter, I would watch them on their own, though it took them several times before they got it.
"This feels weird." Toye said aloud as he tried to get his G down but was frustrated. I smiled, fixing it for him with ease.
"Sign Language takes practice, lots of it. It's like learning any new language, or trade for that matter. The more you practice and do the letters over and over again, it'll come easier. It's all about muscle memory, the same way that you practiced shooting and gun over and over again. Your fingers will be used to it before you know it." I explained to them as they were watching me. I saw them all understanding what I was saying, having me look over to Doc who was next to Toye. He smiled and nodded his head at me, showing me that so far I was doing good as the teacher.
The rest of the time was of them practicing their letter over and over again, having me walk from person to person and seeing them show me how they were doing. Most of them were doing good, shaky but good. I ended over to Joe, who was trying to get his fingers working with the letter F. HIs fingers were curled down and he looked rather mad at himself for it.
"Here." I said to him with my gentle tone, going over to stand in front of him and taking his hand in both of my own. I looked at his fingers, moving each of them out to be pointed, then had his pointer and thumb touch gently. As I was doing this, I could feel something warm coming through my skin, our fingers were touching and it made me feel as though sparks were igniting in my spine and down to my toes. This was getting beyond ridiculous for me to handle: what I was feeling for Joe Liebgott. Was this all in my head, that my mind was playing tricks on me to have me feel something that was merely a fantasy that I wanted? Or was this thing real, what I was feeling for him? Did he feel the same for me? Was he experiencing the same thing?
When I got his fingers in the proper position, I looked from his hand in my own down to him, seeing him watch me intently as if he was in some kind of trance. There has never been a moment where a man has looked in me in that way before. It made me rethink my view of what love feels like, all from looking at a Jewish born cocky hothead who had more intensity than I did. I smiled sheepishly at him, feeling my own breath being shallow.
"You got it?" I asked him in a low tone, not low in threatening, but low as in intimately. He nodded his head, his eyes never leaving my face as I felt the warmth in my cheeks again.
"Danke." He thanked me, having me nod my head at him once. For some reason, I liked it when he answered me in German, it sounded more intimate and more genuine. I answered back in my own language.
"Pas de quoin." I replied, turning away from him and walked back to the front of the room. I had to take a deep breath and realize, for better and of worse.
I had feelings for Joseph Liebgott.
