Disclaimer: all the usual apply

Chapter 29

Amelia POV

Haguenau, France

Sitting in the back of the troop truck, firmly wedged between Babe and Joe, she tried to block out the ache in her bones from being jostled around all day in the freezing air and lashing wind. Just as she started to drift off, the truck hit a vicious pothole, nearly sending her flying out of her seat and only Babe's quick reaction kept her firmly in place.

She groaned and threw her head back. "What in the actual hell?" she exclaimed in frustration, but quickly ducked her head back down when the wind drove snow directly into her eyes.

Joe nudged her softly in the ribs and she shot him a glare which he simply returned with a smirk before burying his face deeper into his scarf to try and ward off some of the biting wind. Babe threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tighter against him and the heat from his body and the soothing pressure of his arm drew some of the ache from her stiff muscles.

When they'd taken Rachamps they'd been told they would be sent back to Mourmelon to rest up. But that was before Hitler had decided to launch a surprise counter-offensive, sending them to the town of Haguenau. So instead of their well-deserved rest, they'd been piled into trucks and sent to help hold the line in another bombed out town.

She rested her head against Babe's chest and closed her eyes, still stubborn enough that she was insisting on trying to sleep.

The trucks slowed down to a slow crawl and she could hear men walking about. She guessed they'd entered the town. She'd find out when they told her to move and not a moment before.

"Hi guys. Some lieutenant told me to report to 2nd," a chipper voice said, immediately causing her to take a deep breath to calm her quickly escalating irritation.

Fucking replacements coming here all happy. Another green boy that's gonna get someone killed before he offs himself, she thought bitterly.

She didn't bother opening her eyes, but she could feel Joe glancing her way before he shifted in his seat. Babe's head moved towards the voice, but no one said anything.

"Your name's Jackson right?" the guys asked, trying to make conversation when no one answered.

"That's right," Jackson, an Easy soldier that had been wounded during the jump into Normandy and later rejoined Easy, croaked out from his seat opposite Joe at the back of the truck.

"Who's leading the platoon?" new guy asked and she gritted her teeth.

Who the hell did he think he was asking all these questions?

"Sergeant Malarkey is," Joe responded.

"What, no officers?" he asked.

"You didn't hear?" Joe asked as she felt him fidget with his hands.

"No what's that?"

"They're making Malarkey a lieutenant. He's on the fast track now," Joe said.

She kept her face neutral but smirked on the inside. Whoever this was, Joe was messing with him since Malarkey wasn't the sergeant up for promotion and everyone knew it.

"Really? That's great," the new guy responded before she heard a thud as he dumped his pack into the back of the truck and asked Jackson to help him up.

She heard the men shift about on the bench opposite her as they made room for him, but she kept her eyes resolutely closed.

Babe and Joe shifted closer to her, which considering how close they'd been to her actually made her position a bit uncomfortable, but she assumed it had something to do with the new guy so she didn't complain. Besides, as far as she was concerned, the more body heat the better.

"So uh….you come from the hospital?" Jackson asked and this peeked her interest.

They wouldn't ask a replacement if he'd come from the hospital so whoever this was had to be a veteran.

She opened her eyes a slither, still unwilling to fully acknowledge the fact that she was awake.

Sitting opposite Joe, in a fresh green uniform, was none other than Webster. He'd been hit in Holland, nothing life threatening but enough to get him sent to the hospital.

He looked well fed and well rested. Both things grating her shattered nerves so she had to clench her jaw to stop herself from saying something she might regret later.

She blocked out the conversation he was having with Joe. Or should she say the list of names Joe was throwing his way of men that had gone AWOL to help them instead of lounging around the warm, cozy hospitals for months while they froze, bled and died. Each one a not-so-thinly veiled insult. That was until Bill's name came up.

"Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon sergeant?" Webster asked, his voice so casual and happy it felt like every word he'd just said was a punch to her gut.

She opened her eyes and bolted upright, but before she could say a word Webster's clean shaven cheeks split into a dazzling smile as he said, "Hey beautiful. Glad to see you."

Everyone on the truck fell quiet, and most openly watched her as she quirked her head, studying Webster.

She sensed Joe and Babe share a pointed look over her head, probably bracing themselves to physically restrain her from kicking Webster's ass.

Taking deep breath and leaning forward, she finally replied in a deadly measured tone, "Webster, let me give you some free advice because I'm about five seconds away from reaching over and smacking that poster boy grin off of your clean shaven face."

Webster's eyes widened as he visibly swallowed.

Her eyes took on a vicious glint and she hissed her last two words, "Shut-up."

As the words left her mouth the truck stopped and the order came for them to get out. She stood and Joe held out his hand for her, helping her out of the truck. Behind her she heard Jackson and Babe tell Webster what had happened to Bill just as her feet splashed into the muddy road.

"Fuck, you looked like you were about to kill him," Joe said beside her.

She glanced over her shoulder at Webster who was climbing out of the truck. Looking back to Joe she said, "Let's say he can be glad there were witnesses."

Babe caught up with them and quickly squeezed her hand before letting it go. "You all right?"

"No, so just keep Mr. Personality away from me for his own safety. OK?"

The two men chuckled and Joe nudged her shoulder as Babe rattled her helmet playfully.

"Amelia!" Johnny called as he strode purposefully towards them.

"The one and only," she replied dryly.

Johnny gave her a lopsided smile and a shake of his head before saying, "Speirs wants to see you at the Easy command post."

He jerked his head in the direction of a large building which had been a small hotel before the war, but now served as the Easy CP.

"I'll go right over. Thanks hun," she replied, patting his shoulder.

Looking between Joe and Babe she said, "Try not to get lost or killed while I'm gone."

"Yeah-yeah," Joe retorted, rolling his eyes.

Babe squeezed her arm and winked. She smiled sweetly up at him, for a second unaware of the men and the war around her.

The distant sound of mortar fire brought her crashing back to reality and her smile faltered. "I'll see you later."

He nodded and dropped his hand from her arm as he followed Joe down the road to wait for further orders.

XXXXXXX

Crossing the threshold of the hotel, rubble and broken glass crunched underneath her boots. Whoever had come before them had done a pretty decent job of destroying the once beautiful interior. Dark green and gold embossed wallpaper tattered and peeled from the walls, the curtains were all shredded or gone while a thick layer of dust covered every available inch. The scuffed wooden floor was littered with papers, broken plaster and glass while the furniture that remained had definitely seen better days.

There's a roof and four walls, still a million times better than a damn foxhole.

For a second she was alone in the main sitting room of the hotel when Lipton and George entered through another interior door.

Lipton was sick and it wasn't the cold they'd all come to live with. He was deathly pale and his skin held that sheen of sickly sweat. He coughed constantly, the sound deep and wet.

"Hey Em. You looking for Speirs or Winters?" Lipton asked when he saw her standing in the doorway.

"Speirs," she replied.

"Drop your stuff and get a seat. He'll be here soon," he said through his very labored breathing.

"Sit down would ya'," George ordered Lipton, forcing him onto an old sofa that stood randomly in the middle of the room.

Lipton looked like he was about to object when she shot him a raised eyebrow. He fell down heavily onto the couch, even this small movement seeming to exhaust him.

Luz looked from Lipton to her and shook his head.

She glanced around and found an old piano tucked into the corner of the room, its bench still neatly tucked underneath it.

Dropping her pack and her helmet, she pulled out the bench and took a seat. Out of curiosity she lifted the piano lid and a small, surprised smile, crossed her lips when she saw an intact row of white and black keys staring back at her.

She turned her body so she was facing the piano and gently ran her fingers over the keys, relishing the feeling underneath her fingertips.

At a young age, like most girls, she'd gone for piano lessons. She'd found she not only enjoyed playing, but had a natural affinity for it. She'd played almost every day, whether in lessons or at home, and even after her parents had died and she'd moved to London, Samantha had made sure she had a small piano to tinker on.

"You play?" George asked and she glanced up to find him standing at the end of the piano, keen eyes studying her.

"I used to. Haven't since I joined the army."

He nodded, lips pursed as he thought. "You should play now."

"I doubt it's in tune," she replied, pressing one key to make her point and smiling to herself when it sounded just perfect enough to pass.

George smiled at her reaction. "Oh yeah, that smile looks like something is off for sure."

She rolled her eyes, but touched another key and giggled in delight when it filled the room with a crisp note.

George shot her a wink before turning away to help the other soldiers that now milled about.

From the corner of her eye she saw Webster enter the room and she audibly groaned.

"Hey, look who it is. Nice digs, hey Web?" George greeted him, a newly lit cigarette hanging from his lips as he handed Lipton a few pieces of paper.

"Sergeant Lipton," Webster greeted Lip as he avoided making eye contact with her. "You feeling all right?"

"There you go," George said as he covered Lipton with a blanket he'd stolen from somewhere before proceeding to tuck him in.

Replying on Lipton's behalf George answered Webster's question, "He's got pneumonia."

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable, Webster replied, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Nah, what are you sorry about? He's alive, he's got a couch, a goddamn blanket. Snug as a bug," George replied again, busying himself around the room.

"Uh, sergeant Malarkey said to check with the CO if I should be in 2nd platoon," Webster finally offered the reason for his arrival.

In a weary voice, Lipton waved a piece of paper towards a chair, "Grab a seat Webster. We'll get you situated."

Webster took a seat on rickety looking chair relatively close to where she was sitting. She caught his eyes and he gave her a timid little smile. She held his gaze for a split second, before looking away from him.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked Lipton.

"Long enough," the sergeant replied.

She turned her attention back to the piano and tested a few more keys, delighted to find they were all more or less in-tune by some miracle.

"Is this the company CP for Easy?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

She turned her head in the direction of the voice. A lanky, young lieutenant was standing in the door, his uniform the same shade of green as Webster's.

Webster stood, but the other men continued what they were doing and she turned back to the piano. In the last month their conditions had necessitated they bypass certain military protocols. She was sure they would be reinstated soon enough once they got away from the front, but for now the veterans continued as is until told otherwise.

"Yes, sir," Lipton replied on everyone's behalf.

"As you were," the lieutenant said to Webster.

"Lieutenant Jones. Looking for Captain Speirs," the new guy introduced himself.

Without really looking at the lieutenant Lipton said, "He's on his way sir. Why don't you sit down?"

Jones moved into the room and dropped his pack as he took a seat.

"Em," Lipton called and she turned to look at him.

"I'm getting coffee. You want one?" he asked, a private hovering close by waiting to hear her decision.

"You know me Lip. I'll never turn down a warm cup of coffee," she replied with a smile.

Lipton nodded at the private who quickly walked out the room.

She saw Jones squinting at her, as if he was deciding whether or not his eyes were lying to him.

She gave him a lopsided smile, "Don't worry, sir. You're not going crazy. I am a woman."

His lips twitched into a small smile and he shifted around in his chair. "I'd heard Easy had a female sniper. You have quite the reputation."

"Oh, you shouldn't believe all the stories, sir," she said, turning back to the piano.

In the background she heard Webster and the new lieutenant start up a conversation which she duly ignored.

"Here you go, ma'am," the private said, handing her a mug of bitter, steaming coffee.

"Thank you," she said as she gratefully wrapped her fingers around the hot metal, a content smile on her face.

Speirs sauntered into to the room carrying an antique clock he'd found, cigarette stuck between his lips.

Jones and Webster stood to attention, but Speirs didn't even glance in their direction.

He briefly smiled down at her before scowling at Lipton.

"Captain Speirs, sir. This is uh….Lieutenant Jones," Lipton introduced Jones as he clutched his own coffee mug.

Speirs didn't even look in Jones' direction, instead choosing to scold Lipton, "Listen, for Christ's sake. Will you go to the back and sack out? There are some beds back there with fresh sheets."

"I will, sir," Lipton said, but not moving a muscle.

Bypassing Jones, who was still standing upright, although less rigidly than moments earlier, Speirs turned his full attention to her.

"You look terrible. Get some sleep."

"Gee thanks, sir," she retorted, too tired to be offended and also a hundred percent certain she looked like hell.

"Get some rest Amelia. Winters has got an assignment for you," he said, his tone somewhat softened.

"I'll go rest as soon as Lipton does."

He grumbled at her through his cigarette. "The two of you are impossible."

She shrugged and he ignored her.

The sound of heavy boots approaching the room was soon followed by Dick and Nixon.

Both men took of their helmets, subconsciously running a hand through their hair. By the way their shoulders were slumped she knew they weren't brining good news.

She braced herself, steeling her face into a professional mask.

"Listen up," Dick said, "Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners."

"This one comes straight from Colonel Sink, so it not my idea," Nixon added. As the Regimental Intelligence officer he was usually the one tasked with coming up with reconnaissance missions, but apparently not this one, which only made the sinking feeling in her stomach worse.

"Since the river is the main line of resistance we're gonna have to cross it to get to them," Dick continued as if Nixon had never spoken.

She mentally ran over what she knew about the town. It was split in two, divided by a river running down the middle. The Germans held the one bank while they held the other. Both sides had buildings close to the edge of the water, with the rest of the town radiating outwards from there.

"What do we need to do?" Speirs asked from beside her.

"There's a three story building on the enemy side, up the embankment. We know it's occupied. You can have fifteen men; think very hard about who you want leading the patrol. We need a lead scout, translator. I've got the entire battalion on covering fire."

"When?" Speirs asked, but not meeting Dick's eyes.

Locking eyes with her, Dick answered, "Tonight. 01:00."

"Yes, sir" Speirs said, she could hear the wheels turning in his head already as he sifted through the men's names for his team.

Looking away from her to the Easy CO, Dick called his attention, "Speirs."

Speirs looked up to meet Dick's gaze.

"I want this one to be as fool proof and safe as possible."

From his position next to Dick, Nixon added, "Yeah, don't take any chances on this one. We're too far along for that."

Speirs' eyes momentarily fell to her before Dick called him over to discuss who should go on the patrol. She already knew she was going. All things considered she was a pretty logical choice to send, so she didn't bother trying to listen in on their conversation.

Nixon took a few steps deeper into the room, stopping in-front of Lieutenant Jones. He glanced at him and then looked over to her.

His face split into a broad smile, and for a second she could see the handsome, charismatic man behind the dark circles and tired eyes. "Beautiful," Nixon greeted her.

Carefully closing the lid of the piano she walked over to Nixon.

"Who's this?" he asked, jerking a thump in Jones' direction.

She felt sorry for the young lieutenant. He was still standing at attention since the superior officers hadn't told him to stand down yet, but you could see how out of place he felt.

"This is Lieutenant Jones," she answered, shooting Jones a small smile to try and put him at ease.

Nixon's eyes lit up mischievously and she inwardly cringed on Jones' behalf.

"Right, our West Pointer," Nixon said, eyeing the kid up and down.

"Yes, sir," Jones responded.

"When did you graduate?" Nixon asked.

Jones briefly glanced at her before returning his gaze to Nixon. "June 6, sir."

She smirked and shook her head. D-day.

"June 6th! Of last year?" Nixon exclaimed.

"D-day, yes, sir."

Nixon gave a hollow laugh, eyeing the kid again, "Right, don't get hurt."

"Play nice Nix," she interjected before he could torture Jones any further.

Nixon shot her a look like she'd taken away his favorite toy. "I was just getting to know Easy's new officer."

With a raised eyebrow, she retorted, "You do realize I've known you for more than an hour, right?"

"And you've loved every minute."

"Yip. Well, besides for those moments where the Germans were trying to kill us."

Nixon smirked, "Minor detail."

She rolled her eyes just as Dick joined them.

"So, who's on the patrol with me?" she asked.

"You're not going on the patrol," Dick answered.

Bracing her feet and placing her hands on her hips she readied herself for a fight.

"Amelia, it's been decided. That's an order," Speirs said from across the room.

Everyone looked at her as she looked from Dick to Speirs, trying to judge if she could win the argument with either one. Both men gave her steely looks, their eyes daring her to challenge them.

Crossing her arms over her chest she let out a huff of air. "Fine."

Speirs turned back to the conversation he was having with Lipton and she turned to Dick.

"Martin said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, drop your things with 2nd Platoon then find a building that gives you a good vantage point of the Germans. Watch them and only take a shot for an officer," Dick gave her orders.

She nodded, glad to be of some use now that she'd been banned from going on the patrol for reasons she didn't understand.

"And once you get a hit, get out of the building fast before they bring their artillery down on you," he continued, boring into her eyes with his own ice blue ones.

Nixon touched her arm, his voice softened, "We can't have you getting hit now. So be careful."

"Shoot and run. I can manage that."

Nixon gave her arm a squeeze before dropping his hand.

"Sir, I'd like to volunteer for the patrol," Jones spoke up and all three turned to him in surprise.

She'd completely forgotten he was there and Dick eyed him up and down with even more judgment than Nixon had.

She shook her head at the poor kid. He meant well, but there wasn't a chance in hell Dick was going to risk men's lives so a green, replacement officer could get his boots dirty.

Glancing over at Speirs, Dick said, "Speirs, I'll talk to you in an hour."

Looking back to Jones briefly he continued, "Lieutenant Jones," he greeted him, not even acknowledging his request.

Dick patted her shoulder as he moved past her and out of the room, following in Nixon's footsteps.

She reached into her pocket and took out her pack of cigarettes. Carefully lighting one she took a long drag, closing her eyes as the smoke filled her lungs.

"Captain. Requesting permission to go on the patrol," Jones said with so much force it sounded like he was shouting in her ear.

Her eyes snapped open and she scowled at him. The pity she'd felt seconds earlier wiped out by annoyance.

Speirs broke off the conversation he was having with Lipton and looked over to the lieutenant, visibly pissed that he'd interrupted their conversation.

"No, you have no experience," he said in such a tone that a chill would have run up her spine if it had been directed at her.

"Yes, sir," Jones said, dejected.

"Tell...tell Heffron, Ramirez and McGlung they're going," Speirs told Jones, his eyes briefly falling on her.

She took another drag and ensured her face remained blank.

"Yes, sir," Jones responded.

Speirs motioned for her to follow him as he started to turn and leave the room when Lipton stopped him. "Sir, this is Private Webster."

She was almost surprised to see him. She'd all but forgotten he was even in the room with them.

Webster took a step forward. "Sir, I'm Private Webster from 1st platoon. I just got back from the hospital and Lieutenant Foley told me to go to 2nd, but sergeant Malarkey said-" Webster was about to continue when Speirs cut him off.

"Fine, 2nd. Take uhhh…." Speirs said, looking at Jones.

"Lieutenant Jones," Lipton offered.

"Lieutenant to OP 2," Speirs finished.

"Sergeant Jones, a moment," Speirs said over his shoulder as he walked out of the room.

Jones glanced at her in surprise and she shrugged. "Don't worry. They never call me Jones. Keep your head down, sir," she greeted him before following Speirs into a smaller foyer.

Speirs stood in the middle of the small room, watching her carefully as she made her way over to him.

"So, can I know why I'm not going on the patrol? You and I both know I'm a logical choice to lead it. The other men need a rest."

"You're going to be busy the whole day; you need to rest tonight."

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "We can't risk you being captured by the Germans. You know more than most of the men. Also, the company's morale is low enough as is, if something happens to you now it'll dull their edge. And we need them sharp."

She studied him for a moment, considering his every word. Finally relaxing her shoulders, she relented, "OK."

Speirs visibly relaxed, relieved she wasn't going to fight him on the decision. "There are going to be warm showers set up for the men. Obviously you can't use them."

"I can share their foxholes but not their showers, huh?"

"You want to share showers with dozens of soldiers that haven't seen a woman in months?" he asked.

"No, but I'm willing to make that sacrifice if it means being clean and warm for a moment. I'm pretty damn desperate."

His lips turned up into the start of a smile. "Well, the men will all be disappointed, but luckily it won't have to come to that. The hotel has working plumbing. The officers are going to use the facilities, however we arranged for one bathroom to be kept open for you. No one will use it until you're done."

Before she could stop herself she threw her arms around his neck, giggling hysterically.

He was caught off guard for a second, but then she felt strong arms encircle her waist as his low chuckle sounded in her ear.

She let go of his neck and he took a step back, still smiling at her excitement.

"I could kiss you," she said.

"I can think of worse things, but I can also think of one or two people who wouldn't be too happy if you did. So best not. Wouldn't want my own men hating me."

She quirked her head to one side, wondering what he knew and what he was guessing.

He smiled devilishly, enjoying having the upper hand on her for once.

"Be back here at 16:00. I'll make sure there's someone here to point you in the right direction."

With a soft smile she said, "Thank you Ron. I really do appreciate the effort. I know you don't have to do it. None of you do. So it means the world to me."

He returned her smile. "For you, it's no effort at all."

"Well, I had best go shoot some Germans."

"Yeah, and don't get blown up," he warned her, the smile gone.

With a mischievous grin she replied "I'll do my best, but I cannot make any promises."

She turned to leave and saw him shaking his head from the corner of her eye.

XXXXXXX

Hope everyone is having a wonderful start to their weekend! This is a shorter chapter, wasn't planned but just worked out that way. It's more of a "quiet" chapter, but I wanted to show the strain the last few weeks/months/years have taken on Amelia as well as the men. I think this is something I'll explore more in certain of the chapters going forward, but also showing how the men (especially Babe) are there for her just like she's there for them.

Anywho, in my mind I've started planning the end of the story (mostly when an epic song comes on and suddenly I play this whole scene in my mind...hahahah) so I'm super excited for everything that's still in-store!