Ray's mind is scarred for life. Since Frank said that the replacements looked like just finished breastfeeding from their Ma, the mental image always come every time he saw them. It's not helped that half of the Easy Company is now replacements and his responsibility is to train them for the next campaign.
Easy had jumped into Normandy with 139 officers and men. Easy was pulled out of the line with only 74 officers and men present for duty. Lt. Meehan was officially declared killed in action. His plane was shot during the D-Day. No survivor from his plane. Lt Winters was appointed as Easy's CO, and has been promoted to Captain. The Captain's BFF, Lt. Nixon, also promoted into Regimental's intelligence officer. How Nixon maintains his Intel works while constantly drinking his beloved Vat 69, is beyond Ray.
Capt. Winters managed to smuggle some real ammunition for training back to Aldbourne. Well, that will give a realistic combat training for the replacements, Ray thinks. Apparently, Winters got some tricks behind his no-sin appearance. This is extremely high risk, because if one the replacement's head got shot, Winters' ass is on the line of fire. Maybe that's the best quality that Ray likes about Winters. The Captain knows when to obey and when to bend the rules. He will do his best for his men. He maybe just a few years older than the men, but he is surely matured a lot.
Their weeks in Aldbourne are filled with day and night field problems, physical training, inspections and trips to the firing range. It's Ray responsibility to integrate his squad through the trainings, since half of it are replacements. Because he's the squad leader, he must restrain not to bully them, at least not so much. He's a veteran now, all grown up, hardened by combat and shit. To say that it's exhausting was an understatement. Sometimes Ray found himself sleeping still using his filthy uniform and boots, too tired to remove them.
To integrate the replacements with the original Toccoa men is difficult. The recruits were always excited, tense, eager, and nervous. The veterans were worried that this behavior will lead them to unnecessary death. So that some of the veterans treated the replacements as doormat can be expected. There are exceptions however, like Bill Guarnere that kinda 'adopts' one replacement, Edward 'Babe' Heffron for one retarded reason; Babe is from Philly, Bill's hometown, and looks like a baby (hence the nickname). They've been attached in the hips since they met.
Ray, Frank and George make the best use of their weekend passes. When they were not in a marshaling area or on an alert, they will do the bar-hopping, skirt-hunting, annoying-people-in-the-movie-tent or drinking-until-you-passed-out-and-kicked-out. The trio reasons that this is necessary to release the stress. The activities are most likely followed up by one hell of hangover in the next morning.
Like this morning or noon or what the fuck the time is now, Ray feels someone kicking his foot.
"Ray…Ray…wake up, you wasted hick. It's almost noon. I've told you not to play drinking game with Malarkey. He's Irish, for Pete's sakes. He practically drinks whiskey since baby"
"Argh…Shut your fucking yap, Bill. Can't you see I'm hangover, ya shithead?! Go back babysitting Babe!"
"WHAT? YOU GOT A HANGOVER?!", the Italian fucker purposely shouts to Ray's ear.
"Gonorrhea, you retard motherfucker! Just wait until I slit your fucking throat!"
Bill's blasted laugh is so not helping Ray's pounding headache. "Do you want me to drag you to the shower or do you want to drag your wasted ass yourself? Your choice. Luz needs your help to fix his radio in the mess hall. Where the fuck did you learn electronics anyway?"
Ray tries not to throw up, "I'm gifted, Bill. I'm the biggest addition to humanity since the discovery of planes, paratroopers and the marines."
"Go fuck yourself!"
"That's physically impossible, you fucking retard. And I'm not into using dildo up in my majestic ass."
Bill gaped for a solid ten seconds. Shit! Apparently men of this time not used to hear homoerotic jokes. But then, Bill is laughing very hard, it gives another wave of headache and nausea to Ray's head.
"Shit, Ray!"He laughs for a good 5 minutes, while Ray making out with the toilet.
If Ray had to choose, he prefers to stay in Aldbourne until the war is over. Spending the summer in Aldbourne is so much better that spending summer in Normandy or any other fucked up warzone in Europe. They sleep in clean sheet, they got toilet with real toilet paper, and they got hot chow. He even able to bully one replacement to smuggle some porn magz (called Titters, super lame name), but disappointingly, the magazine is too polite for his taste. He misses Brad's Juggs.
There were several changes in the higher ups, and those Generals are itching to get the Airborne Army into action. But every time they made a plan, briefed the men, transported them to their marshaling areas, and prepared to load up, the ground troops overran the DZ and the mission was canceled. It's like dealing with Ferrando in Iraq all over again. Maybe Ferrando reincarnated from this fucktard Generals, Ray muses.
They have been briefed again for their next operation. Operation Market – Garden. The objective is to get British Second Army, with the Guards Armored Division in the van, through Holland and across the Rhine on a line Eindhoven-Son-Veghel-Grave-Nijmegen-Arnhem. Ray has no idea where the fuck the towns are. He only knows Holland for its red district, for fuck's sake (literally speaking). The men also were not happy when they know that they will be under British command.
But orders are orders. Soldiers are robots in this fucked up war. Well at least they're in the right side and Ray is 100% sure the people in Europe are waiting to be liberated by the Allies. The enemy is clearly identified (and it helps that they're wearing uniforms, not pajamas). Unlike when he's in Iraq; he's not sure the Iraqis want to be liberated. Or even if they do, the Iraqis will whole heartedly hate the Americans for leaving the country even more fucked up than before.
They were gathered in the marshaling area. Ray just received the final briefing for the jump and he addressing his squad.
"Hey, minions! Listen up, ladies! Sling your rifle up and down otherwise it'll break your jaw when you hit the ground. You won't need your reserve 'chute, we're jumping low. Jump ready to fight. Listen to Papa Ray and you'll be safe." Ray doesn't care if the replacements are offended to be called minion and/or ladies.
"Ray, don't scare the babies. They just passed their potty training." Yeah, Frank is one of Toccoa man that treats the replacements as doormat.
"Nah. They okay, Frank. I think their level of retardation is not as bad as yours."
"You can bully your men, but you can't bully me. We have the same rank, asshole."
"Oh really, midget?"
"I'm not a midget!"
"Riiigght….I'll call you vertically-challenge then. Do you understand that word? Or shall I change it to intellectually-challenge?"
The replacements laugh at this.
Ray facing them and use his best impersonation of Brad's Iceman voice, "What the fuck are you laughing at?" Ha! Take that, Brad! The babies are shitting their pants.
Ray felt sorry for Popeye. The scrawny little guy cannot sit through their flight to Holland. He stood up in the back of the stick. His butt was not fully healed but he persuaded the nurse in hospital and he went AWOL so he can join his buddies in Easy Company. And he's not the only one who went AWOL. Winters got used to 'accidentally misplaced' reports from hospitals. Even he cannot hold back the men's loyalty to the company. It's Easy Company tradition; as long as your finger can pull the trigger, do anything to get back to the company, no matter what.
The jump to Holland is completely different from the D-Day jump to Normandy. It was the dream jump. Clear sky, day jump, no flaking of Krauts artillery, no machine gun shooting at them and Ray's landed his white butt on the soft, green grass (Yeah, eat that, Luz!). And, to add the sprinkles to the ice cream, the people of Eindhoven were throwing party at them. Literally.
You can say that the Nazi are bad when you see the Eindhovians (Ray doesn't know how to call Eindhoven residents) crying with joy when they see the Americans. The women are showering them with kisses (not that Ray complains, his face is red from heat, 'heat', and lipsticks), the old people are giving them food and beer (Ray keeps the food and munching some) and they were pulled here and there for photographs (Ray is embracing his newly founded celebrity status). The road is filled with people, they hardly move one inch. This is so not Iraq. Ray never feels so appreciated.
"Hey, George! George! Do you see Frank?!"
"Last time I saw him, his face was drowning in some majestic tits."
"Shit! That midget finally gets some. I wonder what his wife thinks if she know about this."
"That, my friend, will be our next blackmail material." George's smirk is as evil as can be.
Before Ray can say anything, Lt. Peacock (yup, that's a real name) shouts in the top of his lung, "Forward! Keep moving forward!" Peacock is Welsh's replacement, since Welsh was promoted to Winter's executive officer.
Ray was struggling in keeping his squad together. He has to drag one of the replacements in the collar since the particular boy is munching everything (food and women lips alike). By the time Easy finally managed to leave the city, it's already dark. They dug their foxhole outside Eindhoven.
"Vincent van Gogh was born in Neunen." Webster the college boy broke the silence
Cobb, always cynical, replies "Yeah, so what?"
Hoobler says with less teasing "Sure teach you a lot of useful stuff at Harvard."
Ray says "Well, of course it's useful. It teaches you not to cut your own ear when you were dumped by your girl, and then give it to her as a souvenir. You got that, Babe?!" Babe was dumped by his girl, Doris (Ray knows, it's a grandma name), and he's been brooding ever since.
Babe looks queasy.
Cobb and Hoobler paled and shout, "No shit!"
Ray shrugs.
Webster grins.
Everybody happy.
Well, not really, because minutes later, they're not so happily exchange bullet and mortars again with the Krauts. And this time, Easy experience their first retreat.
It's fucking sucks.
"Ray, you okay? Your hands shaking."
"Fine, Doc. It's just adrenaline. First time retreating was not a happy experience, you know"
"Tell me 'bout it. Here…coffee…still hot"
"Thanks, Doc. Don't you have someone to be sewed or cut?" Doc cringes.
"I've just finished patched up Buck. He got shot in the butt, you know? Clean shot through both cheeks. One bullet, four holes."
Ray snorts, "Buck and his larger-than-life ass. Well, that's another thing to put as Easy Company's tradition, besides went AWOL. Getting shot in the ass." Doc gives a chuckle.
Winters comes up. His expression weary.
"Ray, how's your squad?"
"They are fine, Capt. One wounded, no dead. They've dug their foxhole over there. Do you have news about Sgt. Randellman, Sir?'
"No, Ray. Bull's still missing."
"Well, If there ain't no body, then there ain't nobody dead, Sir."
Winters smiles "That's exactly what Guarnere said."
"Sir, permission to speak?"
"Granted, Sergeant."
"Why the hell that Limey tanks keep going after Sgt. Martin warned the commander that there's a German tank hidden in that fence row?"
"Well, according to Martin, the British commander said that he cannot see the German tank. And if he cannot see the German tank, he cannot shoot."
"That was beyond stupid, Sir."
Winters only gives a weak smile and nods before leaving.
"I don't trust these Limeys, Ray."
Ray sighs, "Yeah? Tell me something new, Doc."
The overconfidence of the higher ups lead to Easy took the hell of a licking. Everyday Ray convinced that the campaign should change its name to Operation Clusterfuck.
While Easy set up a road block in a cross road in Uden, Winters found one asshole of British tank Lieutenant sit inside a house, with a girl, sipping tea, his tank parked outside. The abovementioned asshole has the ball to ask Winters "Are my tank still outside?" Needless to say, Winter's reply did not improve Anglo-American relations. That afternoon, the Germans cut the road, and Easy retreated. Again.
Veghel was another story. It was pure fucking hell. Ray spent most of his time hiding from intense Krauts shelling. If not hiding, they sleep in a flooded foxhole, in their raincoat, heads on knees, hoping they can get some sleep before the Krauts decided to shelling them again. Pure. Fucking. Hell.
Ray hates the constant rain. Ray hates digging foxhole every fucking night and then drowns in it. Ray hates the fucking Limeys. Ray hates that it's almost one fucking year he trapped in this fucking war time.
One fucking year without hearing insults from Brad. One fucking year without singing country song to insult Brad. One fucking year without watching LT. Fick eyefucking with Brad. One fucking year without Walt, Trombley, and Reporter. One motherfucking year.
And still here he is, filthy, tired, and wet like a battered dog. Ray laughs at the thought of that. A battered devil dog. How fitting. For the first time since he's thrown in this hell of time travel, he starts to lose hope to coming back to his own time.
"Raaay, buddy…Wanna rum?"
"Where the fuck you got that, George?"
"Please don't underestimate my scrounging ability, mate. My rivals are only Frank and Capt. Nixon"
Ray nods and moves aside so George can hop in to his foxhole.
"Scrounging? More like stealing."
"Semantics."
They stay silent for a while, taking turn sipping the rum.
"You look like shit." That's George Luz way to ask 'are you okay'
Ray answers weakly, "Still gonna get more pussy than you."
George laugh, "Wanna bet?"
"Bet for what?" Bill Guarnere decided to join the pajamas party and crouch outside the foxhole.
"Our pal Ray-Ray here thinks that he will get more pussy than me."
"Well, Ray, looking at your current state, you are more resemble a dog than a man. So I put my money for George."
"Fuck off, Bill."
When he hears no more insults from Ray, Bill raises one of his thick eyebrows. "Wow, just that?"
Ray spends too much time with these guys; they immediately know something wrong with him.
"Listen, Ray. We cannot loose ourselves right now. We're NCOs. With the fucked up brass we got right now, our men looked up to us. Winters depends on us. He cannot face this shithole alone. We're Toccoa Men. Remember… Currahee, Ray. We stand alone. We stand alone together."
"Bill's right, Ray. Come on, mate. Pull yourself together. I need my sidekick. Do you think I can survive this war with Frank alone? The retarded midget needs his baby sitter back."
Ray drops his head. His friends need him. His men need him. Even Winters needs him. And if there is something that Ray couldn't do, it's to disappoint everyone that depends on him. Until Ray can get out from this clusterfuck of time travel, this will make do. This has to make do.
Steeling himself, Ray says to his friends…no… his brothers, "That's what I am to you, George? Sidekick? Perco's baby sitter? And here I am, wishing you to love me and taking me to dinner. Anyway ... thanks … you guys start to grow on me…like fungus"
Bill and George grin at him. "That's Sergeant Ray Person we know."