Disclaimer: I do not own the Band of Brothers mini-series or book, not do I intend any disrespect to the real men of Easy Company or their families. I only own the original characters.
This story is based on the mini-series and I have done some additional research to try and keep it as historically accurate as possible. However since this is a fiction there are some interpretations of and changes to actual events in order to make the story work.
Chapter 6
Somewhere over the English Channel
Amelia POV
The inside of the plane was filled with the drone of the large engines and cold from the night air streaming in from the open door. She was grateful for the dark gloom that surrounded them, as it made is easier to block out the men sitting around her. She could feel Winters' and Gene's body heat on either side of her and she knew that if she opened her eyes she would find Derek sitting across from her, but she had no intention of opening her eyes until she had to.
As they had prepared to board the planes earlier that day, she had tried her best to appear calm, but it had felt like insects were crawling underneath her skin, biting at her nerves. She knew the only way she was going to be able to function, do her job, was if she tuned everything and everyone else out. She had to retreat into herself and make peace with the fact that she may die sooner rather than later. She had to get to a point where the thought didn't paralyze her with fear. So she sat on the plane, with her eyes closed, only vaguely aware of the men around her, and focused on steeling her nerves. From this point onwards she was a soldier, maybe even a killer, she couldn't freeze and get her friends killed. Her once rapid breathing was calm now, measured and intentional. Her mind was blank and all she could see was the darkness behind her eyelids. She was ready.
Her breath hitched for a moment when she heard the first faint blasts in the distance. Anti-aircraft fire, it's time. She opened her eyes and looked over to Derek. His eyes were dark, the only emotion they held was determination. She knew her face mirrored his.
The explosions became louder and she saw the men look around nervously. All of a sudden the inside of the plane was cast in an orange glow as a nearby plane burst into flames from a direct hit. Her mind wanted to linger on the fate of the men in that plane, but she banished the thoughts before they could fully form. She couldn't think about that now.
All of a sudden the light next to the door turned red, the indication from the pilots that they had to get ready to jump. This is too soon; we haven't been in the air long enough.
Her legs moved on instinct and she was up before her mind had a chance to register Winters giving the order for them to hook-up. Derek stood in-front of her and she checked his gear. The men started to sound-off from the back of the plane, Gene patted her shoulder, shouting "four OK". She squeezed Derek's shoulder and shouted her own confirmation "three OK."
All of a sudden she lost her footing. Momentarily disorientated she realised a blast must have gone off near their plane. Gene bodily dragged her up-right and she heard a man scream in pain from somewhere behind her. The light went green and Winters disappeared through the door, followed by Derek.
Amelia stepped into the abyss without hesitation. What she saw made her forget to breathe. Men, everywhere. Jumping from planes, falling under white canopies, streaming from another plane that was on fire. Her lungs screaming for air brought her back to herself. Looking down she saw trees approaching her fast. Scanning the area, she spotted a small clearing and did her best to steer the chute in that direction. She missed the branches of the nearest tree by half and inch, dropping hard onto the ground she felt her right ankle twist underneath her at an awkward angle.
She could hear a machine gun going off close by and knew she had to move. She released the shoot and reached for her rifle, grateful she'd had the good sense to keep it on her.
Getting up into a low crouch she tentatively put weight onto her right ankle and the pain immediately radiated up from it. "Shit," she hissed. Bending down she felt her ankle, it wasn't broken, just badly sprained. She quickly tightened her boot's laces further, hoping they would provide some additional support.
She could still hear the machine gun, but couldn't see it. Judging that the sound was coming from her left she turned to the right, heading into the trees.
Once in the cover of the tree line, she stopped to take stock of herself. Besides the ankle she was uninjured. That's when it hit her, her one leg felt lighter that before. Looking down she saw the leg bag had been lost at some stage during her jump. Who saw that one coming?
She reached around her neck and pulled out her dog tags. Attached to them was her compass. It was small, and old, in a previous life it had belonged to her farther. It was one of the few things she had of his. Crouching down she quickly lifting the tags over her head, pulling out her raincoat and draping it over her herself she held her torch in her mouth and opened the compass. My best bet is to move towards the coast and the landings. Checking the compass one last time she closed it, turned off the flashlight and pulled off her raincoat.
Putting all her things away she got up and started walking in the direction of the coast. Making sure to stay in the shadows, treading carefully, she moved like a ghost from one tree to the next. After two hours of walking she had to stop for a moment. Her ankle was killing her, throbbing with every step she took, and her mouth felt dry and tacky. She slowly sat down, her back resting against a tree, taking a sip from her canteen and returning it to her hip. She re-did her laces, trying to provide the ankle with whatever support she could. Getting up from her position something white caught her eye. It was a few feet ahead of her on the ground. She approached slowly, keeping her rifle up and ready.
As she neared it she realised it was one of their parachutes. Looking around she couldn't see anyone at first, then she heard it. Labored breathing, wheezing, choking. Walking towards the sound she found the soldier lying on his side. Picking up the pace she dropped onto her knees beside him, placing her rifle on the ground next to her.
She slowly turned him onto his back and he moaned softly. She had to find the source of his injuries quickly, see if there was anything she could do for the man. Looking him over she saw his left leg was shattered, the white tips of his shin bone sticking through the skin. His jacket looked almost black in the light and felt sticky and warm. Using her trench knife she cut it open in one quick movement. There was blood everywhere. Running her hands over his slick torso, trying to find the source of the blood, she felt three large gaping holes. Two in the stomach, one in the chest. He'd been shot before he'd even hit the ground, she thought sadly.
There was nothing she could do for him. He needed a surgeon immediately and there wasn't one anywhere to be found. Her heart broke, she knew she had to keep moving, staying here was dangerous, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the man to die alone, on some forest floor in France.
Finally looking at his face she was surprised to find his eyes watching her. Taking her helmet off and softly touching his young face she said, "Hey soldier, my name's Amelia."
He tried to speak, but it came out as a high pitched moan. "Shhhh, don't try and speak." She was stroking his face, trying to calm him down. His sickly wheezing and labored breathing the only sounds she could hear.
"It's ok, you're ok. I'll stay right here." She'd seen the medics lie to dying men countless times, trying to give them some comfort and peace in their final moments. She hoped her lie was bringing the man some comfort now.
She held his gaze, trying to keep her eyes calm, not wanting him to see the helplessness she felt.
At the sound of a twig breaking her head snapped up. She leaned down to whisper in his ear, "I'll be right back. Don't worry."
Quickly picking up her rifle she moved away from him, back into the shadows. Peering into the darkness, straining to hear any other sounds besides those coming from the dying man and the distant gunfire punctuating the darkness, she heard it. Voices, speaking German.
Shit, they're heading this way.
She could leave, moving quickly and quietly they would never even have known she was here. She could run. Looking over to the body of the man she had just met, her mind was made up. She couldn't leave him to the Germans while he was still alive. God knows what they would do to him.
Two shadows emerged from the trees to her right, only a few feet from where she was crouched. The Germans stopped and crouched down when they saw the soldier lying on the ground, looking around for signs of the enemy. Amelia studied them, calculating her odds.
Two grown men, the one was large and imposing, the other smaller but stocky. She could shoot both quickly, however this could be a patrol and shots would draw the attention of more Germans. Shooting was out. The only other option was sneaking up behind them, killing the larger man first and then taking her chances with the second one. She hoped the element of surprise would buy her the time she needed.
Quietly slipping of her pack and placing her rifle on the ground Amelia took out her trench knife, the cold hard metal providing scant comfort. She tightened her grip on the handle, knuckles turning a ghostly white in the grim darkness.
She moved further into the shadows, approaching from their backs. Her every sense was focused on the forms of the two men, each nerve on fire as adrenaline coursed through her, anticipating the coming fight. The damp earth of the forest floor absorbed the sounds of her footfalls, each one meticulously placed. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, her heart racing like she was in a dead sprint.
She stopped two feet behind them. She was in luck, they were still crouching on the ground, their attention firmly on the prone figure of the soldier and the trees in-front of them. They weren't expecting someone to come up on them from behind.
Steadying her breathing she shifted all her weight to the balls of her feet, bending her knees slightly, tightening her grip on the blade in her right hand. The tall man moved his head to the side, speaking to his companion, exposing the white skin of his throat to the moonlight streaming through the trees.
Now.
She leapt forward, using her left hand to grip the man's head under his chin she yanked his head up, sliding the cold blade across his throat, severing the artery. Letting go of his head she turned to face the second man.
He reacted faster than she'd anticipated. Springing up he ploughed into her, slamming her into the ground. She heard a sharp crack as her head hit a rock, immediately making her hand loosen its grip on the blade and it fell from her grasp.
The man was on top of her before she could get up, his weight pinning her down. She tried to shift her hips to shake him off of her, he punched her hard in the face, the side of her head smacking into the cold earth.
His hands found her throat and pushed down hard, cutting off her air. She clawed at his face, trying to force him to loosen his grip but it didn't make any difference, her mind was screaming for oxygen, for a way out.
Her knife, it still had to be close. She dropped her right hand from his face and franticly felt for the blade at her side. Her mind started to go dark, slowing down from the lack of oxygen, her eyes no longer seeing. She was dying.
Suddenly her fingers touched cool metal, her grip was flimsy, but she was able to hold onto it. Using all the strength she had she jabbed the blade upwards, but it deflected off a rib, the German cursed and pressed down harder.
She lifted the blade again, using the last of her strength, and felt as it penetrated the man's chest. His grip on her throat relaxed and her lungs instinctively gasped for air. Her vision became clearer and she saw the shocked look on his face.
Suddenly she was filled with a sheer blinding rage. Wrenching the blade free, she plunged it back into him, hitting his abdomen she twisted the blade hard. Finally, the German's hands released their grip on her throat and he slumped down on-top of her. Her breathing was coming in shallow hysterical gasps as she fought to regain control of herself. She felt a warmth spreading across her chest and stomach, the sickly sweet metallic smell of blood assaulting her nostrils. The dead German was bleeding out on-top of her. The mere thought panicked her, she desperately shoved at the dead man trying to roll him off of her. Finally freed from beneath him she crawled away from the two lifeless bodies. That's when she saw the American soldier still lying where she'd left him. For a moment she'd forgotten about the man. Stumbling to her feet, still clutching the knife for dear life, she stumbled over to his side.
Falling down beside him she searched for any signs of life, but there were none. He was gone. She just sat there, looking at him, feeling nothing, her world had stopped moving. Some small part of her registered that she was going into shock. A little voice screaming at her that she had to do something.
Move, move Amelia. MOVE NOW.
She reached over and removed his dog tags, closing his jacket so his naked chest wouldn't be exposed to the world. Tilting the tags so she could make out the name she read it out loud, saying it like a prayer. "Lawson."
Picking up her helmet and getting to her feet she walked to the spot where she'd left her pack and rifle. Reaching for them the reality of what had just happened hit her square in the stomach. Bending over she retched, emptying her stomach and feeling the tears stream down her cheeks. She stayed there for a moment longer, trying to regain her composure, finally straightening up she took a swig from her canteen, swirling the water in her mouth before spitting it out. Taking a proper drink, she replaced the canteen and picked up her gear.
She walked past the dead Germans, not daring to look down at them.
She walked for what felt like a lifetime. Soon after her encounter with the Germans she'd found a road. Keeping it to her left she followed it in the direction of the coast. She had to walk carefully, stopping often to scan her surroundings for signs of danger, which meant the journey was taking painfully long.
Just as dawn started to break she saw a road sign a couple of yards ahead in the distance. Sainte Marie du Mont, 7 miles. Seeing that sign, she swears she almost started to cry. That was where she knew she would find Easy, if she got there before they moved out. Seeing that sign gave her a burst of energy which helped to carry her well past mid-day, but soon thereafter her vision started to become blurry and the pain in her ankle was intolerable. She had to stop. Looking around she saw a shallow ditch a few feet inside the tree line. Finding a spot where the ditch ran behind a large tree she crawled into it. She opened up her pack, taking out a K-ration she tore the packaging open and took a large bite. She was so hungry the K-ration tasted better than any meal she had ever had in her life. Lifting her canteen to her parched lips she sipped some water, washing down the mouthful of food.
Putting everything away she put her pack behind her and lay down, promising herself she would only sleep for an hour before continuing.
What felt like seconds later she forced her eyes open. Looking around the quality of the light caught her by surprise. Why does it look like dusk?
Lifting her head a sharp pain shot through her brain. All the events of the previous evening played out in-front of her eyes making her head pound even more. Running her fingers over her scalp she felt a big lump where her head had struck the rock. "Fucking Kraut," she swore under her breath.
Looking around she determined that it must be dusk already, she'd overslept. Cursing herself to high heaven she took a swig of water before grabbing her things and crawling out of the ditch. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear before moving on, she scanned the horizon. Satisfied that she could move from the relative safety of the ditch she set of towards Sainte Marie du Mont. By her estimation she had just over a mile to go.
About half a mile outside of the town she encountered her first American soldiers. She nearly kissed the bewildered private. Asking him how far the town was he responded and pointed her in its direction.
Walking as quickly she could she ignored the strange looks she got from passing soldiers. She knew they were probably just confused about seeing a woman in uniform in France. She couldn't wait to see her friends, her stomach contracted into a tight ball in anticipation. She didn't allow the thought that one of them, or all of them, could be dead to cross her mind. She had to believe that they would be there waiting for her.
Finally entering the town it was already dark. She was about to ask a sergeant if he knew where Easy was when she spotted a familiar face climbing out the back of a truck. For a moment she just watched him move, relishing the realisation that one of her friends was alive. Without thinking her legs started to move in his direction. He was looking down at his hands, studying the cigarette he was holding, so he didn't see her approach. Stopping right in-front of him she spoke softly, her injured vocal cords straining. "Hey Joe, what brings you here?"
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Joe POV
"Jesus! Let me outta here!" Joe exclaimed, lifting the tarp covering the back of the truck and jumping out. No amount of food was worth the torture of sitting in that smell.
He took the cigarette from behind his hear and lit it, watching the glowing ember intently, the conversation he'd had with the other men replaying in his head.
By now they knew the jumps were far from successful and most of their friends had been scattered all over the place. When Derek and Doc had arrived at Brecourt Manor that morning they had all expected to find Amelia with them. By the looks on their faces they had expected to find her with the other men. She'd been on their plane, literally between the two of them, yet she hadn't arrived yet. As the day wore on and more men started to trickle in his chest tightened more and more. Whenever he saw Derek he swore the lieutenant's eyes became darker, somehow more menacing. They were all waiting for Amelia.
Where the fuck is she? The thought of her lying dead in a ditch somewhere, cold and alone made him feel sick.
He was vaguely aware of a soldier approaching him, but he didn't look up, not wanting the other man to see the angst in his eyes.
"Hey Joe, what brings you here?"
His brain took a second to register who had spoken. It had been soft, and hoarse, but god knows there was only one soldier in France with that voice. Looking up his eyes met hers and before he could think to stop himself he threw down the cigarette and pulled her into a warm embrace.
Without letting her go he spoke, "Where have you been?"
"Umm Joe, I need to breathe," she said.
Releasing her from the hug, but still holding onto her arms, he took in her full appearance. It was dark out, but he could make out her split lip and the angry bruise forming underneath her left eye, both were a stark contrast to her washed out complexion. Her voice sounded like someone was strangling her and the way her uniform was two shades darker over her chest and stomach made his breath catch. That was blood, no doubt about it, and a hell of a lot of it. He didn't know how much was hers, surely it couldn't all be, otherwise she wouldn't have made it this far.
His shock and concern must have been written all over his face because she spoke up. "Joe, I'm fine." It sounded more like a question than a statement and when he looked into her eyes they were pleading, but for what he didn't know.
"You are now Em." That was all he could think of saying. Before he could ask her what had happened Winters appeared beside her.
"Amelia, Derek sure will be glad to see you. He's over…." as he took in her appearance he trailed off.
Ok, so it's not just me. Even Winters thinks she looks like hell.
"Amelia, are you hurt? Let's take you to see Doc." Joe removed his hands from her arms reluctantly as Winters stepped into her direct line of sight.
Amelia gave him a confused look, raising her one eyebrow. "Ummm…Dick, are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Amelia, have you seen yourself?"
"Oh no! Is my make-up smudged or something?" She smirked and let out a small giggle, her tired eyes still holding some of the playfulness he had come to adore.
Joe had to smile, this woman never ceased to surprise him. The knot in his stomach started to untangle itself slightly as he realised that she was really here, alive and kicking.
Winters shook his head and touched her right arm softly. "Amelia, don't take this personally, but you look terrible."
"I figured as much." She simply shrugged. Suddenly her eyes widened and Joe saw panic written all over her face. Both he and Winters instinctively reached for their weapons, reacting to her change.
"Where's Derek?" The question came out fast and breathless.
Joe's hand fell away from his gun and he could feel his shoulders relax. Winters took a deep breath before replying. "He's with Harry over at HQ. It's the old inn, two blocks that way." He pointed in the direction of the old inn which was near the centre of the town.
"Thank God," she whispered to herself, barely loud enough for him to hear.
"I'll go there now, he can get a bit cranky when he thinks I'm missing. Completely over protective that one."
"That's an understatement," he scoffed.
He could see Winters weighing up his options. They both knew she had to get to Derek, the man was minutes away from going after the entire German army by himself just to find her, but she also needed to see Doc and get a clean uniform.
Joe quickly spoke, "Sir, I can take her to HQ and then go find Doc. He can have a look at her there."
Winters's eyebrows knitted together before he nodded and stepped out of Amelia's path. "OK Joe, make sure she gets there and that Doc looks her over."
Joe thought he saw Winters touch her shoulder and squeeze it as he said, "I'm really glad you're back with us Amelia."
She smiled softly and touched his arm ever so quickly. "I'm really glad to be back sir."
"C'mon beautiful, let's go." Stepping in behind her he took her pack from her before she could protest and casually threw it over his left shoulder. Before turning to leave he saw Winters walking towards the truck he'd jumped out of moments earlier.
He and Amelia walked slowly and he noticed she had a slight limp. He tried his best not to let on that he had noticed it, but he made a mental note to tell Doc about it when he found him.
Amelia took out a crushed pack of smokes and took one out, placing the pack back into her jacket pocket. He gently took the cigarette from her and placed it between his lips, lighting it for her. Once he was sure it was properly lit he handed it back to her without saying anything. Taking his own cigarette from the pack he had, he quickly lit it.
"Who's still missing?" Amelia asked between drags.
He thought about it for a moment, the list was still quite long, so he gave her the best response he could think of. "Lieutenant Meehan is still missing, and everyone else from his plane. Probably went down. Tab, Shifty and Smokey aren't here yet, but a few guys from their plane arrived late afternoon." He took a drag and spoke as he exhaled, "Popeye got hit today. In the ass, Doc says he'll be fine."
She was quiet, simply nodding her head. When she finally spoke she asked, "So Winters is in-charge now?"
"Yip."
"That's good."
They reached the few steps leading into the inn and he could see a faded glow coming from inside. She dropped the butt of her cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it and he did the same.
When he looked over to her he found her eyes searching his, holding the same pleading look he had noticed earlier. His heart constricted, he didn't know what to do or say. If they were back home he would have pulled her to him, holding her tight, hoping his arms would provide the comfort she needed, shielding her from whatever it was she had experienced while separated from them. But they weren't home. They were in the middle of a war zone, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, and she was one of them. So instead he took a step closer, holding her gaze, hoping his presence would give her the reassurance she was looking for.
Smiling, although it never quite touched her eyes, she reached out with her right hand and lightly brushed her fingertips against the knuckles of his left. She pulled her hand away quickly and started up the stairs as he followed her. He could still feel her light touch against his skin and he was acutely aware of her every move. What the hell Liebgott, he cussed himself.
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Amelia POV
There were only four steps leading up to the door of the old inn, but it may as well have been a small mountain for all the effort it took. Reaching the door a private rushed by, almost running her over. Stepping aside she used the pause as an excuse to compose herself and catch her breath. She couldn't let any of the men see her struggle. Looking over to Joe she saw he was glaring at the retreating private, his jaw clenched. Her lips involuntarily quirked into a half smile at his blatant concern and she swore her heart sped up slightly. Don't be silly, those were just very steep stairs.
"C'mon Joe," she said, giving him a small smile and indicating towards the door with a nod of her head.
The foyer of the inn was filled with men in uniform, some pouring over maps talking in hushed tones, others barking orders while their subordinates ran around trying to carry them out as quickly as possible. Furniture, which had clearly never belonged to this room, now filled it, being used as makeshift tables and chairs. The dark green wallpaper was faded and torn and the air was thick with the smell of men, smoke and damp.
Standing on her toes she tried to spot Derek but there were so many men in the room and she was at least a head shorter than most. Joe touched her elbow and gently pulled her after him. Ducking behind a particularly brawny looking sergeant she spotted Derek. He was standing with his back to her, hunched over some maps, talking to Buck and Harry who were both frowning and shaking their heads.
Harry looked up and his eyes went wide when he saw them approaching. He said something to the other two men she couldn't make out over the din of the room and both spun around in near perfect unison.
None of the men moved, it was like all three men were frozen to their spots, all the colour drained from their faces. Derek's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was trying to control some unspoken emotion.
When she came within touching distance he finally snapped out of it and stepped forward, grabbing her arms and locking her eyes with his. They just stood there like that for who knows how long, the rest of the room forgotten, each one trying to assure themselves that their partner was really alive, really there with them.
Finally he let her go, stepping slightly aside he spoke to Joe without taking his eyes off her. "Liebgott, go fetch Doc Roe," he paused, shooting him a sideways glance, "and get a clean uniform."
Placing her bag gently on the floor next to Buck, Joe nodded and ran out of the room.
"C'mon, sit down." Derek pointed towards a small wooden chair right next to the table they had been standing around.
All three men stared at her like she was a fragile china doll who would break at the first indication of a stiff breeze. She was becoming increasingly annoyed at the looks they were giving her and the way they were treating her. She sat down and crossed her arms in-front of her chest. "What?"
"Amelia, have you seen yourself?" Derek asked her tentatively.
That's it, if one more man asks me that question I am going to slap someone. "Oh well, I haven't quite had the chance yet. Let me just pull out the full length mirror I carry with me into combat and have a looksee." She was being petulant and unreasonable, she knew it, but she couldn't help it.
She knew Derek was technically her superior, but they'd know each other for long enough and he'd only ever treated her like a subordinate on a rare handful of occasions, she was damned if this was going to be one of them. She was to tired, sore and felt far too disgusting to give a rat's ass about knowing her place. Besides, their reaction was putting her even further on edge. She was only ninety percent sure she was truly fine, them reacting like this did not give her a vote of confidence for the last ten percent.
He clenched his jaw, running his hand through his hair and letting out a sharp breath. "Damnit Amelia, don't have attitude with me, not tonight."
"Derek, everyone keeps asking me if I know how I look. How on this earth am I supposed to know that? Every soldier here looks like they've seen better days. Including you three."
She took off her helmet and dropped her head, now it was her turn to run her hands through her hair. She didn't understand why he looked so damn angry. Derek started to pace back and forth in-front of her, she was sure he was swearing under his breath.
Buck stepped forward and knelt onto his haunches so he was level with her. She lifted her eyes to look at him. He didn't touch her, they weren't that close, however his eyes held genuine concern. "Amelia, you're covered in blood. Your entire front is covered in dried blood, it's in your hair and on your face. Your lip is split and it looks like someone used your face for a punching bag. I'm also pretty sure I saw you limping earlier and your voice sounds like you took a grater to it. You've been missing for an entire day and then you arrive here looking like something out of a horror movie. OK?" He spoke softly and slowly, making sure she understood what he was trying to tell her.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes momentarily as the headache she'd had all day came back with a vengeance. Opening them she found his cool blue eyes still staring intently at her. "Yeah, OK. I'm OK." She spoke softly, she felt deflated, the fight leaving her.
Buck stood and lightly squeezed her shoulder. Harry offered her his canteen and she took a big sip, grimacing as the bitter liquid hit her taste buds. She swallowed and felt the comforting heat of alcohol run down her throat and settle in her stomach. She handed him back his canteen with a grateful smile. He winked, giving her a small lopsided grin.
Derek stopped pacing and leaned against the table, playing with his lighter. "Are you OK?"
She knew him well enough to know he wasn't just referring to her relatively minor wounds, he wanted to know if she was still there with him. She straightened up slightly and smiled up at her friend. "I'm OK Derek. Promise."
He clicked the lighter shut and returned her smile. "So, you wanna tell us where you've been gallivanting?"
"Oh well, just enjoying my time in France. Seeing the countryside and all that," she teased him.
They all chuckled but fixed her with their eyes, making sure she understood she wasn't going anywhere until they knew the full story.
Letting out a small sigh she said, "Can we wait for Gene? Doc Roe. He'll want to hear the whole thing anyway and I really don't feel like telling the story twice."
Appearing out of thin air Gene stopped in-front of her. Tacking of his helmet and placing it at her feet he knelt down and started feeling her over for injuries, looking for the source of the blood. She placed her hands over his and forced him to meet her eyes. "Gene, darling, it's not mine." His eyebrows knitted together and he pursed his lips.
"Liebgott says you've been limping and your voice don't sound good. What happened?" he asked in an unyielding tone.
Well, he's not gonna take no for an answer.
She took out her canteen, taking a long drink before replacing it. Gene took this as a sign that she wasn't going to argue and sat down next to her chair, taking out a bandage from his bag.
She found Joe standing on the other side of Derek, just behind Gene, and shot him a little glare for telling Gene about her limp. He promptly returned it with a classic smirk and a wink, completely unfazed.
"OK, I'm going to tell this story once from start to finish. No one can interrupt me until I'm done. Understood?" All five men nodded.
"During the jump I landed badly. We were too low and the ground came up quickly. I sprained my right ankle." She saw Gene's watchful eyes flick to her ankle, his hand twisting and un-twisting the bandage.
"I lost that useless leg bag at some stage, but still had my rifle and pack." She paused, reaching out her hand to Derek, who handed her the cigarette he'd just lit. He promptly lit another one and she took a long drag of her own before continuing.
"I started heading towards the coast and I'd been walking for a while when I found an American soldier. He was badly injured, shattered leg, shot multiple times. His name was Lawson." Taking another drag she tried not to remember the way he sounded, the wheezing and gurgling.
"I checked, I really did," her voice cracked, "but there was nothing I could do." She let out a small huff of air, trying to regain her composure.
Just stick to the facts Amelia.
She continued, looking at her hands, fearing that if she looked up her courage would abandon her. "I wanted to stay with him until he died, I knew it wouldn't take long but I heard Germans approaching. I wasn't going to leave him for them, so I did what I had to."
Finally she looked up to meet Derek's grey eyes. The anger that had been there earlier was gone, they held another emotion now. Worry, pride, anxiety? She wasn't sure, probably a mixture of all three.
Sitting back she closed her eyes and found herself back in the dark woods, alone with a dying man and enemy soldiers. She continued without opening her eyes. "I didn't know if there were other Germans in the area, so I couldn't shoot them and risk attracting more attention. I walked up behind them and killed the first man quickly, severing the artery in his neck." She opened her eyes and glanced at the men. None of them were moving, they hardly breathing and all their eyes were watching her, studying her.
She held Joe's gaze for a beat and continued, looking straight ahead. "The second soldier was faster than I'd anticipated. He tackled me to the ground and I hit my head on something hard. He pinned me down and I was too disorientated to push him off. He punched me, then started to strangle me." Her voice was even, like she was reporting back on troop movements, not her own near death experience.
"I was able to find my trench knife before I passed out. I stabbed him three times. The first one only pissed him off but the other two were fatal. He died and fell on-top of me. I suspect that's where most of this comes from." She gestured towards her blood covered jacket.
"I was able to push him off, however by the time I got back to Lawson he was already dead. I took his tags and left." She took out the tags from her pocket and stared at them for a moment, running her fingers over the engraving, before handing them to Gene. The medic would know what to do with them.
"I continued walking for the next few hours, slept for a couple in a ditch and now I'm here." She finished, waiting for someone to say something, anything. Taking one final drag of her cigarette, more just for something to do, she threw it to the floor and stepped on it with the toe of her boot.
Finally Derek moved. In one swift movement he stepped towards her, grabbed her shoulders and lifter her gently up out of the chair. She knew he wanted to hug her, but it wouldn't be appropriate in the setting, so he settled for holding her shoulders firmly and allowing his eyes to say everything he couldn't right now.
"You did well. I mean you were foolish for going after two Krauts by yourself with a trench knife, but you did well. And Lawson knew you were there, that he wasn't alone in the end." He squeezed her shoulders before taking a step back.
Harry spoke up from where he was still leaning against the table. "Doc, there's a small storage room open back there." He pointed towards the back of the room to a small door. "Amelia, I'll organise some water so you can wash up a bit before changing into the clean uniform. Doc And Liebgott can stand guard and then Doc can have a look at your injuries."
She smiled at her friend, the thought of washing off the dead man's blood from her body nearly bringing a tear to her eye. "Thank you Harry."
"Get some sleep, then come and find me tomorrow morning at 06:00 so we can go over the day's objectives," Derek said.
She nodded, picking up her pack and helmet she followed Gene to the storeroom.
Reaching the small door they found a very young looking private waiting for them with an extra canteen and a small piece of cloth. "Here you go ma'am. Lieutenant Welsh said you would need this." Judging by the look on his face he'd come to the same conclusion based on her appearance.
Trying her best to give him a small, reassuring smile she took the things from his hands. "Thank you Private."
He turned, leaving her alone with her two friends. "K Em. Get changed and then I'll look over your injuries. Liebgott and I'll stand guard."
"Ok Gene, I'll be quick."
Stepping into the small, dimly lit room, she saw it had been stripped of everything it had once held. She closed the door behind her, took her helmet off and placed it on the ground along with her pack. Slowly undressing to her underwear she shivered. Whether it was from the damp chill in the room or the feeling of her bloody clothes sticking to her skin she wasn't sure. She tried not to think about it too much.
Wetting the cloth she washed her face and torso as best she could, trying to remove most of the blood and dirt that had accumulated there since the jump. Undoing her long hair from the pony it was in she tried to rinse some of the blood out, using her fingers to untangle the long strands a bit.
Looking over the clean set of clothes she realised she would have to put her filthy undershirt back on, the thought made her cringe but she didn't have any choice. Quickly getting dressed she transferred all her belongings from her old uniform to the new one. She contemplated putting on her jump boots now, but decided against it, knowing Gene would want to look at her ankle.
Opening the door she found her two friends leaning against the wall either side of it.
"You boys can come in now. I'll sit on the floor so you can have a look at the ankle Gene." She turned and took a few steps into the small room. Sitting down on the cold, hard floor, she waited for Gene to follow her.
He walked in and sat down in-front of her, rolling up her pant leg so her heavily bruised and swollen ankle was exposed. His cold hands gently brushed over her skin as he performed his own assessment of her injury. She watched him for a moment before looking up to find Joe casually leaning against the door frame smoking, his dark eyes watching her. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. Once the thought popped into her head she quickly looked back to Gene, hoping it hadn't shown on her face.
While he wrapped up her ankle she started to plait her hair, looking for something to do with her hands. Why was no one speaking? I should probably say something.
"So Gene, how does it look?" she asked, just looking for anything to say to break the silence.
"Looks fine. It'll hurt, but you'll be able to walk," he replied, not looking up from what he was doing.
He quickly finished up her ankle and expecting him to look at her head next she was shocked when he leaned over, her his hands reaching for her neck. She instinctively flinched away from his touch and he hesitated, his hands paused mid-air. "Those bruises don't look good, I need to make sure your airway is still fine." Gene spoke slowly, like he was talking to a frightened child.
Taking a deep breath to steady her heart Amelia shifted back to her original position. "Of course Gene. Sorry."
Gently feeling her throat he didn't say anything and she closed her eyes, acutely aware of how intimate this looked. Suddenly he was touching her lip and cheek lightly, checking on the injuries to her face. This was just too much, she could feel the blush start to form. He must have noticed because he quickly stood up before speaking. "Looks OK. Your throat is badly bruised, which is why it hurts to speak. Should be better in a few days."
"Oh good, I was dreading my budding signing career was going to end before it had even begun." She smirked and saw both of her friends crack a smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.
Gene got up and moved to sit behind her, finally checking on her head. Having nowhere else to look but at Joe she met his gaze. She wasn't able to read his expression or the look in his eyes. Frowning and quirking her head slightly, not wanting to earn a reprimand from Gene for moving, she held his gaze. Between when they had boarded the planes for Normandy to when she'd found him in the street, something had changed between them, or maybe it had always been there and she just hadn't noticed it. Or it could all just be in your imagination, calm yourself down and step away from the ledge.
Gene poking at her injured head made her to look away and she tried to turn and scowl at him. He just held her head and said forcefully, "Sit still, I'm almost done."
She settled for crossing her arms in a huff and scowling at him anyway, even if couldn't see her doing it. Joe smiled at her mini-tantrum and wagged his finger at her.
Finishing his examination Gene got up and came to stand in-front of her. "You probably have a slight concussion from hitting your head. Here are two aspirins." He held out two white pills and she took them from his outstretched hand. "Eat something, then take 'em. You've already slept, so you can try and get some more shut-eye tonight."
"Whatever you say Gene."
The two men started to chat while she put on her boots and gathered up all her things. Finally ready to go, she shoved the pills into her pocket and followed them out of the inn.
The three of them found a quiet spot under some old archway and sat down. She took out a K-ration and quickly ate it, washing it down with some water before taking the pills. Placing her pack behind her head for a pillow she leaned back, folding her arms across her chest to try and keep herself warm. Closing her eyes she said, "Thank you for taking such good care of me. Both of you." She fell into a dreamless sleep before she could hear their replies.
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Waking up she mentally went over her body, checking her injuries before daring to move. Ankle, check. Throat, check. Head…feels better.
Groaning she sat up, moving her head from side to side, trying to undo the spasm in her neck which had formed from sleeping on the hard ground using a pack for a pillow. It was still dark and she could make out the sleeping form of Gene at her feet. Smiling at her friend she stood up quietly, not wanting to disturb him. In her opinion he had the worst job in the whole army and she didn't want to rob him of any small moment of peace.
She took a few steps away from his sleeping form, coming to stand against a low wall and looking out over the small town square. Hearing someone approach she turned her head towards the noise and saw Joe come stand next to her. He lit a cigarette, offering it to her but she declined with a small shake of her head.
She took out her canteen and drank from it, feeling the cool water sooth her raw throat for a second. Replacing it she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.
Joe cleared his throat. "How did you get here Amelia?" It sounded like a question he'd thought of a hundred times and had finally worked up the nerve to ask.
Opening her eyes she turned her head to look at him, he was staring into the distance, not meeting her eyes. She turned her head back, not really looking at anything. She thought about giving him some wise-ass response about jumping out of a perfectly good plane, but decided against it.
"Do you want the funny retort or the truth?"
"The truth."
Suddenly she regretted turning down the cigarette. She didn't often talk about her past and the idea made her nervous. Reaching over she took it from his hands, her fingers lightly brushing against his. He let her take it and quickly lighting another one for himself.
Amelia stared at the glowing ember for a moment before speaking. "My parents died when I was seventeen. My mother was sick and my father died of a broken heart shortly after she'd passed away. I moved to London with my older sister. My dad was American but my mom was British, so my sister decided that being a nurse in London was a good way to help the war effort. I helped out in the hospitals but never quite became a nurse. Didn't have the stomach for it. She was brilliant at it though, everyone loved her." She took a drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke settle her nerves.
"I'd just turned eighteen and we were out at a dinner party when I met a British Captain. He'd been charged with running a program to see if women could be integrated into the military, to fight alongside men. The idea struck a chord with me. I wanted to do something to help, to feel useful and I knew working in a factory or a hospital wasn't for me. So I signed up the next morning. There were only four of us in the programme and each one was paired with a man that had already completed his training. That's where I met Derek and the rest is history."
Finally done with the story she looked over to Joe. He was staring at her, his lips pursed together. Looking back into the distance he asked, "What did your sister say when you joined?"
Amelia laughed at the memory. "She flipped! Screaming, stomping her feet, I think at one stage she threw a plate at me. Then, when she realised I wasn't going to change my mind, she took me to the local pub and bought us drink after drink until we could barely walk. The next day she went with me to sign up."
"Did she move back to the states?"
She turned to look at him, her confusion visible even in the pre-dawn light.
"You never went to London while we were in Aldbourne. Expect that one time," he clarified.
She could feel her shoulders slump and made a conscious effort to straighten up before speaking. "She died a year after I enlisted. The hospital she was working in got bombed while she was inside." She paused for a moment, when he didn't say anything she continued. "Derek is kinda the only family I have left."
Joe shook his head, reaching out he took her hand and squeeze it softly. "You don't just have Derek Amelia. You have me, and the rest of the guys." He let go of her hand slowly, almost reluctantly. She wished he would have held onto it for a little while longer.
Briefly resting her head on his shoulders as they stood side by side she allowed herself this small moment of comfort as his body anchored her in the moment, yet taking her mind far away from the war torn French town. He rested his head on-top of hers and they stood like that for a few minutes.
Letting out a deep sigh she shifted her weight and straightened up. Turning to face him she looked up into his dark eyes and found them staring back at her, shining bright with an emotion she couldn't place.
"I have to go. Derek is waiting for me." The words came out in a whisper.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand twitch, like it wanted to reach up and touch her but his mind stopped it. Instead he spoke softly, almost carefully. "Be careful. Please."
Amelia smiled up at him. "You too Joe."
With that she turned to leave, quickly collecting her things were she'd left them, stepping over a still sleeping Gene.
Thoughts of Joe and her family danced through her mind all the way to HQ but most of all she thought about the fact that, although this war had taken so much from her, it may also have given her an entire company of brothers in return.
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Thanks for checking in and reading the chapter. See you all soon.