A/N: Thx for Warsage & Gabwr for the reviews and for others who follow this story.

War is hell. A freezing cold and bitter hell that is. Every single day is Groundhog Day, just like in Iraq. But instead of sands and the blistering sun, now he deals with snow and potentially frostbitten balls. Ray mentally shouts to any deity out there, why the fuck he has to deal with two extreme conditions? Why can't he thrown back to a peace-time (preferably in the 60s or 70s) Tropical Island with a nude native girl (or more) in his hand.

The activities in Bastogne are always the same. Freezing, fight the Krauts, freezing, holding the line as best as their ass can, freezing your fucking ass, digging foxholes in a freezing soil, freezing, shelled to bits by the Krauts, fucking freezing again, eat Joe Domingo's rancid ass beans, freezing, losing a brother, freezing, try not to lose your mind and back to freezing again. The "try not to lose your mind" part is the most difficult to handle. Especially if you risk your life in the hand of shit-brained and constantly-MIA CO like Dike. Easy has to taking care their own ass.

But even in this epic clusterfuck, some people manage to rise and shine from the shithole. Winters, albeit he has to babysit the whole Battalion, refuse to stay at Battalion HQ in the city, and stay in the front line with the boys, take part in freezing their sorry ass together. He even maintain officer's grooming standard by trying to shave in subzero environment (Winters will be Sixta's poster boy for sure). Nixon always on his side, as a good BFF should be, hooking up regimental office and the front line. Lipton does a splendid job to maintain the morale of Easy men, by embracing his mother hen persona to the fullest. Doc Roe, still without weapon, hop from foxhole to foxhole to check the men's condition and never flinch to patch wounded soldier, even under intense Krauts' fire. But Ray feels the Doc become more withdrawn every day. Luz and Skip compete to make jokes or impersonations (most likely impersonate Dike's various level of retardation). Without they realized, they make the day a little more bearable.

Chow time always give more relaxed atmosphere, if you don't mind the horrible food. Ray sits between George and Frank, eating the famous Joe Domingo's concoction. Ray honestly doesn't want to know the ingredients. As usual, Ray talks and munches at the same time, food splattered everywhere. Bill, sits in front of him, looks appalled. Well, the others too, actually, even the replacement babies.

"Jesus, Ray. Mind your manners, will ya. You're not eating with your fellow pigs."

"Sorry Bill. Got too excited. Yeah… so listen up kids… if it ever crossed in your baby mind, what the fuck are you doing here, freezing your fucking balls to the point of it become crackable…" The guys winced.

Ray continues his rant "…Don't! You'll see the reason why, once we're in Germany. This war is necessary. This war is the motherfucking answer. I'm assured of that." It's nice to imitate Lt. Fick's tagline, Ray feels nostalgic.

And homesick, actually. But he put it in the far corner of his mind. He doesn't want to brood about going back to his time again. It will affect his combat readiness (Shit! Now he thinks like Brad).

Frank scoffs, "Nice speech for an inbreed, Person"

"Yeah? Just look at exhibit A over here, Gentlemen" Ray points to Frank and continues "If Nazi wins and rules the world, do you think our midget friend over here will survive Nazi's medical experiment?"

He ignores Frank's indignant shout and the others' laugh.

"Nice theory, Ray. Are you making this up?" Bill amused.

"Fuck yeah, I'm making this up. It passes the time, brother. I'm bored, you see. Too much time in the foxhole freezing my fucking ass, waiting to be shelled by the Krauts."

"Jesus! Bored Ray. Are there any two more dangerous words to put together?"

"Your Mom" Ray offers

From the corner of his eyes, Ray sees Doc Roe grinning at that, still in his usual place, separate from everyone. Good. Another thing that goes in the "win" column.

Next mission: make Doc join them during chow time. One step at a time.

Babe is closing himself. His friend, a fellow replacement, John Julian, died yesterday. Babe was forced to leave the body in the battle. When they finally brought back his body, Babe couldn't bring himself to look at his friend's corpse.

Ray wants to hump Babe's head, actually. It worked to make Walt speak before. But to prevent any more mental scarring for the kid, Ray will use tamer approach. Hence, he crouches in the edge of the foxhole and hits Babe's helmet with the butt of his rifle.

"Hi, Babe. 'sup?"

"Huh?"

"What's new?"

"Nothing new, Sarge. It's quiet on the other side, don't you think?" He's holding a half-eaten chocolate, but not eating it.

"Hey, don't jinx it! And Babe... unless we're in combat, I've told you to call me Ray. Or the Magnificent One…"

Babe smiles and nods weakly.

"Hey…Is that chocolate? How the hell you got chocolate?"

"Gene gave it to me. Last night. He and Spina stay with me since…since Julian…"

"Yeah...I've heard about him."

"…"

"That's very kind of Doc, gave you chocolate."

"He kinda forced me to eat it."

"Chocolate brings happiness, you know. Reducing stress, blood pressure…stuff like that. Doc really knows his shit. That's why the Army made him a Medic. Can you imagine if they make me a medic? More people will die due to aneurysm than in combat."

Babe scoffs"That will be disastrous. Yeah…he's a good Medic. But I don't understand why he keeps calling people with their last name. He never calls me Babe, you know. Always Heffron. He even called me Edward once. Only my Ma and the goddamn nun called me Edward."

"Because it'll be easier for him to patch up Private Heffron than to patch up Babe."

"…"

"You see…Doc is purposely distance himself from us. That's fucking stupid, actually, because he keeps giving to us but not receiving any from us. You know what I mean? "

"Yeah…I think I understand. But that's fucked up, Ray. How long he can keep for himself like that?"

Ray shrugs "He's taking care for us all this time. It's time for us to taking care of him. You agree?"

"Agree"

"Come on. It's chow time. If you don't wanna eat that chocolate, give it to me."

"No fucking way. It's from Gene." Babe holds the chocolate in his chest and put it carefully in his breast pocket.

"Huh…got a man crush with our beloved Doc?"

"Fuck you, Ray!"

Later, Babe will always bring food for Doc and forced him to eat in every chow time.

Ray thick "make Doc eat" and "make Babe forget about Julian" in his diary.

It's Christmas Eve. They can hear the Krauts singing Silent Night from their line. Ray huddled in his foxhole with George and Frank. Although they cover the foxhole with tarpaulin and sharing a blanket, they're still shivering from the bitter cold.

"Why the fuck the Krauts is always singing?"

"Just suck it, George. At least it's Christmas song, not that Arnhem Annie bullshit."

"It makes me miss my wife. We never had Christmas together since our wedding in '42, you know. Fucking war" Frank says glumly.

Ray cannot help to feel sorry for his friend. As annoying as he is, Frank is still his closest friend besides George. Ray got to do something to cheer him up.

"Argh… Fuck it! I wanna sing too. All I want for Christmaaaaaass….is toilet papeeeer" Ray sings off-key. Nobody knows Mariah Carey's song anyway.

Ray hears muffled shouts of "Shut the fuck up", "Oh Dear God, not again", "Lord, have mercy", and "Goddammit, Ray!" from other foxholes. The usuals.

"George, honey, I swear to God, I will make you a happy wife if you can give me toilet paper for Christmas. I'll share it with you. Don't you want to decently wipe your ass?"

"I can wipe my ass just fine. And for the hundredth time, Ray; I ain't queer."

"Whatever. I even kiss Hitler if he gives me one."

"You cheap asshole"

"Come on, George. You gave Malarkey cigarettes. You even gave Doc Roe morphine; he looks like want to kiss you. What Jolly Old Saint Luz gives to Ray-Ray and Frankie this Christmas? I've been good boy, Sir. Shooting Krauts and shit."

"Do you think I will give you guys…my best friends…just toilet paper for Christmas? You insult my generosity… and scrounging ability, Ray."

"Stealing ability" Ray corrects.

"Semantics"

George rummages his backpack and grabs three rings. He gives one each to Ray and Frank.

"You want to propose to me, George? You have to down on one knee to make it proper. Because down with two knees means you're gonna give me a blowjob."

"Fuck, Ray! I want to give you guys a token of our friendship! I made it back in Mourmelon. It's from bullets Ask some supply and workshop staffs. It costs me two Lugers and ten packs of cigarettes, you dipshit!"

It has an engraving on it. GL RP FP '44

The ring is made from a .30cal bullet. The bullet for their M1 rifle. It's roughly made, but Ray doesn't care. This is officially the best gift he ever had. He feels ashamed he didn't prepare anything for George and Frank.

He tries to make his voice steady when he talks again "Jesus, George. This…this is great. Thank you. Sorry I don't have anything for you."

"No worries, buddy. I'm the Jolly Old Saint Luz. I give, not take." George smiles sincerely.

Ray takes off his dog tag chain and then put the ring on it.

"You won't wear it?"

"Nope" Ray wears his dog tag chain again, now with an addition of a ring. "Won't risk it if Krauts cut my finger"

Frank follows him. Put the ring to his dog tag.

"Brothers forever?"

Ray doesn't care if it sounds cheesy. He never guesses he will find brothers in this clusterfuck of time travel. This brotherhood is the one that keeps him insane. The one that keeps him to stay the fuck alive so he can back to his time.

George and Frank nod "Brothers forever."

Bastogne, 26 Dec 1944

Hi, Gramp.

If you confused why my entry before this is only consist of lists, it's because I don't have much time to write much. Since we're entering the wood, I will be super lucky if I can shit properly, let alone make a proper entry in your diary.

There's nothing much to write, actually. The activities are repetition of dig, wait, freeze, shit, and shelled. But we hold the line as ordered.

I have a coat and scarf now. The fog has been thinned on Dec 23, so the planes can drop us supply. But if our plane could see us, it means the German could see us too. So, the Krauts' Christmas present for us was …guess what… another shelling from the Luftwaffe.Aw-fucking-some.

Honestly, Gramp, I'm fucking scared. All the officers are replacements. Unexperienced replacements. There were no original Toccoa officers remaining in Easy. All had been kill, wounded or transferred to battalion or regimental staff. It's up to us, NCOs, to hold the thing together. Can you imagine the clusterfuckness? We're far more experienced than our superior, and our number is decreasing.

I think Lipton is very much aware of this, so he took after Winters, babysitting Easy. He's a mother hen already, so it's natural for him. I did the same for my men. I think it's the only think I can do to keep me and my men sane.

Gotta go, Gramp. I have Recon patrol with Capt. Nixon. It's funny I have to do recon here as a Paratrooper, but I was a Humvee driver and RTO as a Recon Marine in Iraq. Maybe this is God's way to fuck with me.

Love,

Ray

"How's the patrol?"

"Same...I saw trees and snow."

"Smartass"

"What do you expect? It's still the same. Our line is as thin as Kraut's line. Oh...and I wrote USA with my piss. Gotta mark your territory, mate."

"Jesus! You're disgusting."

"I make a pledge to wrote USA with my piss in every foreign soil I stepped on"

"Remind me not to take yellow snow cone from you."

"I'll take that under advisement. Hey George...do you believe in time travel?"

"You mean like H.G. Welsh's Time Machine?"

"Not exactly. More like you dead in the future and become somebody else in the past, like become your grandpa."

"And what? You married your grandma and becoming grandpa for yourself? That's fucking sick"

"Christ, George! I'm thinking that I can go back to my time before I even have to meet my grandma."

"Your time?"

Oh, Shit. "Well...um...I'm thinking to write a science fiction after all of this fuckness is over. It's about a Marine that thrown back in time and become his grandpa, an Army Paratrooper."

"Huh...that's why you write in your diary?"

"Yeah...more or less. So?"

"Well, I'm not really a fan of science fiction. You should ask Liebgott. He loves comics, stuff like that. But I do curios what will happen in the future. What the girls be like? What the music be like?"

" Ha..the girls will have tits so big that defying gravity and their clothing will be less, thanks to global warming. Meanwhile the music will be much awesome than today's music. Country music will rule the world."

"Defying gravity? What...like a balloon?"

"More like cantaloupe."

"Yikes...that's scary. What is country music?"

"It'll be like cowboy music but much awesome."

"I still don't get it. Your imagination is so fucking wild, Ray."

"Let me amused you, my bronze-assed friend. In the future, the music will have so many genres. There's punk, rock, rap, country, pop. More variety."

"Okay...okay...give me one example."

"You want me to sing?"

"Because I want to see how fucked up your mind, Ray, imagining the future so detail like that."

Ray is tempted to sing 'Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys' but he doesn't want George to be mentally scarred. So he sings Greenday's Time of Your Life instead. The lyrics seems relevant for his situation.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right,
I hope you had the time of your life.

"Ray, that's...really a good song. You write that?"

"No. That's Time of Your Life, by Greenday."

"Ray, are you trying to tell me something?"

"Will you believe me if I say that I come from year 2003? That I'm a Marine that stuck in my Gramp's body"

"..."

"You know what...just forget it. Not enough sleep can fucked up your mind, or in my case, enhanced it's ability to create a detailed imagination of the future of music."

"Ray...I believe you."

"What?"

"That's explains a lot, I think. You've been different since that jump in England. Me and Perco thinks that double smack did something to your personality. But apparently...it's because you're a different person."

"Yeah...I really am a different person. I'm Corporal Josh Ray Person of Marine Corps' 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. I was deployed in Iraq in 2003 when I was thrown in my Gramp's body."

"I should call you Joshie now?"

"Fuck! I hate that name. Just call me Ray. Nobody call me Joshie and survive for the next 5 minutes."

"How do you think you can back to your time?"

"I have no fucking idea."

"You have us, Ray. We'll figure it out."

"..."

"So...tell me more about this magnificent gravity-defying tits and those less clothing thing."

"Of all the thing you can ask about the future, you want to know about the tits and women's state of dress? You, my friend, is not a disappointment. So listen up for 'Girl clothing 101' by Professor Ray-Ray"

And that night, Ray explains to George the scientific correlation between the decrease in size of women panties and the global warming.