A/n: Many many thanks to K-yers (again) & LeeteukkieLover for the review & edit. *hugs*

Also thank your for new followers of this story. You guys make me clap my hands like a seal.

and as usual...reviews are loved

"Bacon." Frank said out of the blue.

"Uh, bacon to you too," I said. "And also, what the fuck?"

"I miss bacon," The midget said glumly, staring at his rations. The rations themselves resembled shit in the mud, just like the shit and mud outside right now.

"You should start talking in complete sentences. I ain't a mind-reader. People will start to think you're some kind of a retard. Oh wait; they already do."

I receive a slap in the head because of that. "Have you taken your anti-asshole pill for today, George?" Frank asked. I wouldn't dignify him by answering that.

"Just hurry the fuck up and inhale that shit, Frank." I said. "Moose will start the briefing shortly."

"We can't call him Moose. He's our CO now."

I sighed. "I miss Papa Winters. Do you think he misses us?"

"Don't worry, Georgie honey. Momma Nixon and Uncle Moose will take care of us." Frank said, patting my shoulder.

"How the hell am I the Momma here? Have you seen Winters' mother-hen antics about you guys?"

Holy fucking shit! We knew Nixon was in S-2, but that didn't give him the right to sneak up on us like the good little intel he was. He took his job too seriously.

Frank choked on his food and I had to slap his back several times until he could breathe normally again. Moose-or Lieutenant Heyliger was struggling to hide his laughter from behind his hand.

I couldn't help but smirk with fucking glee, since this was the first time the blunder wasn't mine. And it's fucking fun to see Frank's face go white. Revenge is sweet.

"Hurry up and finish your chow, gentlemen." Moose...dammit...Lieutenant Heyliger said. "The briefing will start in ten."

"Yes, sir." I said on behalf of the shocked midget.

Heyliger dragged Nixon towards the barn that we'll use for the briefing. Nixon was still grumbling, "How come I'm the mother, Fred? Dick is the one who keeps worrying about Easy. I-"

Heyliger shook his head and cut Nixon off. "Then stop bitch-I mean, venting your frustration."

Nixon looked at him incredulously. "I'll never share my Vat-69 with you anymore." He paused and then added, "Or my bacon sandwich."

It appeared that the Limeys asked for help to rescue their friends, who were hiding out with the Dutch underground on the north side of the Lower Rhine. Since the crossing point was across Easy's position, Colonel Sink volunteered Heyliger to lead the rescue patrol.

Typical. As Smokey said after the briefing, "We'd furnish the personnel, the British would furnish the idea and, I suppose, the Band-Aids. A fair swap by British standards."

But the operation turned out to be a success. The only downside was that I grew exasperated that the rescued Limeys would shake my hand and say, "God bless you, Yank." All during the supposed stealthy operation! I almost shouted, "Shut the fuck up, you fuckface!" I just figured that it would be counterproductive to the Anglo-American relationship.

Colonel Sink is proud of us though. He issued a citation for gallantry in action the next morning. After the declaration, Becca, who accompanied the Colonel, approached us.

"I still can't believe you guys were able to shut your mouths during the operation." She said the second she was close enough.

"When will you believe that we're the best company in the goddamned ETO? We're the Colonel's golden children." Bill said.

Becca appraises us for a moment with her hands crossed in front of her and said, "Nope. You guys are more like an expanded version of the Three Stooges for me."

"George, handle your woman or there'll be bloodshed." Bill said before he turned to leave us.

Becca laughed and called after him, "I love you, too, Bill."

"Should I be jealous?" I asked dryly.

"Hmm, no. I don't think you should. I think I'm stuck with you, retard." She said nonchalantly.

How the fuck can she say that with a straight face?!

"Yeah, well, I'm irresistible." That's all I can say without betraying my nerves that threatened to burst.

She laughed. "Ooh, George. What could I do without George Luz? By the way, I finally decided the reward for my winnings from the other day."

"What?!" I asked. "I didn't realize we had a bet. I thought you just asked for a game."

"George, I won three time in a row. I should have a reward."

Jesus! What should I do about this woman?!

"Okay then. Name it."

"As soon as we're on R&R, you should help me with the inventory for officer's supplies."

I snorted. "I should've known you were just hoping to use me for the strength of my muscles."

"Of course," She deadpanned. "Why else would I want to talk to you?"

The little shit.

"Why, for my sense of humor, of course." I countered.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, Frog." She said sweetly before turning back to Regimental HQ.

We live in a miserable existence after that. We slept in foxholes. The rain was constant. No showers. No shaving. We ate mucky rations since it's all soaked up by the rain.

You know, just paratroperly stuff.

To make matters worse, the universe wants to fuck us up ever more. One nervous replacement baby shot Heyliger thinking he was a Kraut.

Heyliger's replacement is 1st Lt. Norman S. Dike, Jr. And within two weeks, the whole company already has a line formed for the honor of pissing in his coffee. He is the true embodiment of the phrase, "Educated does not mean intelligent."

Just like Sobel, Dike has a permanent "stupid, asshole, and proud," written on his forehead.

It's in late November when we are finally pulled out off the line. We really wanted to kick one particular General to the moon and back.

When we arrive at Camp Mourmelon, I received the following heart-warming fanfare.

"Jesus, Frog! Your reek!"

Dammit, woman. We've been on the frontlines for 69 days in the wettest armpit of the world. Without SHOWERS! It's a miracle we didn't transform into swamp monsters or something.

But Becca had this look of absolute disgust, so...

"Thank you very much for the warm welcome, Sweetums. Whaddaya expect? The Army didn't provide hot showers and lavender soap on the frontlines. And don't you dare throw up on me, Becca!"

Her face was literally green. This was fucking undignified.

She pinched her nose and said, "There's a hot shower over there. I'll talk to you to claim my reward when you're more resembling a human rather than pig shit." She hurried off back to Regimental HQ.

"A princess shouldn't talk like a dirty sailor!" I called after her.

She flipped me off without even a backwards glance. The gall of that girl!

Then why did she come to me in the first place? She was here the second I jumped out of the truck. Psh, women. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that she missed me.

Wait...did she?

Oh well, I'll think about it later. Right now, my priorities were having a shower and wiping my ass with honest-to-God toilet paper. I sighed with anticipation.

When that first droplet of hot water touched my skin, sweet Jesus! I officially declare that hot shower to be my new best friend. If Christenson didn't end up threatening to draw my private member in great detail and then give it to Becca, I probably never would've left the shower.

Next thing is to do laundry, which is basically throwing our uniforms into a huge basket. But our uniforms are so filthy that I don't think the Army will waste their energy to make them clean again, considering the biological hazard of that shit. Malarkey bet that those dirty uniforms will be sent to the US Army Biological Warfare Lab in Camp Detrick to make some biological bombs (that bomb part was Joe's contribution. He's been reading too many comic books for his own good).

Extra long, hot shower: done.

Exterminate disheveled uniform: done.

Devour meals that don't resemble or smell like shit: double done with extra third and fourth helpings.

I felt like a human again. And now it was time to meet Becca.

Obviously, Becca is in the Regimental HQ office. It meant that there was a big probability that I'd run into Colonel Sink. I always liked the Colonel. Unlike General fucking Taylor, Colonel Sink had a sensible and realistic approach in combat. But that's in combat. In a Private-wants-to-meet-his-goddaughter situation, he was in an uncharted area of operation.

And, of course, because the universe loved to make my life as difficult as possible when it came to Rebecca fucking Jones, said female is in discussion with the Colonel when I enter the office. There's no way to turn around, since they both lift their heads and looked at me. Great.

I did my obligated salute and stand up straight.

"What can I do for you, Private?" The Colonel asked with his eyes looking directly into mine.

"Actually, sir, I asked him to meet me after he cleaned up. Um, I need help in doing inventory for officer's supply." Becca answered the Colonel. Thank God, because I didn't think the Colonel would've like my answer of "I want to ask for your goddaughter's hand in marriage."

Wait, what?! Where the hell did that come from? Note to brain: for the hundredth time, unfuck yourself!

"Any reason why you asked for this particular Private?" The Colonel asked.

Excuse me, Colonel, sir, but "this particular Private" is right over here.

"I lost three times in a row during a game of chess, sir." I offered. Becca looked smug, the little shit. The Colonel looked like he's not totally buying it. I tried to look as innocent as I could, but I know I failed spectacularly. Innocent and George Luz simply cannot be put in the same sentence.

"Can you leave us, Private Jones? I need to talk to this Private Luz," The Colonel said, reading the name badge on my uniform.

Holy motherfucking shit!

Becca left the room with a confused look. Well, we're in the same wavelength, apparently.

"At ease, Private." The Colonel said once Becca was gone.

No can do, sir. I'm too nervous. Is this gonna be that "you hurt her, I'll kill you" session?

"I've heard a lot about you, Private."

Okay...I can't tell if that's good or bad since the Colonel's face is like, well, that. I nod anyhow, since I can't trust myself to open my mouth and talk. At this point of time, my brain inconveniently took a break for itself and left my mouth on its own. So it's extremely dangerous.

"You have a reputation." He added.

Jesus! His face is still unreadable. "I hope it's a good one, sir." I said.

"Some of it."

Well, shit.

He studied me for awhile, which feels like a thousand years, and then he finally said, "You hurt her, and I'll kill you."

I gulped. Okay, so this is that session. So I said, "Never intend to, sir."

Thank goodness, my mouth is apparently doing the smart thing, because the Colonel's face is relaxing. Just a little bit. "You really lost three times in a row?" He asked.

I can't help but cringe. "Yes, sir. It was brutal. I was thoroughly humiliated in front of the men."

He laughed his booming laugh, which was rarely heard, and said, "I taught her good then." He paused and then added. "The Division sees fit to give you all passes to Reims on December 1st. But also the 82nd. Now, am I assured that there will be no trouble?"

I'm sure his real meaning is "keep Becca out of trouble". Well, I'll take that as a good thing that he trusts his goddaughter's well being with me. I nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, get!"

I saluted and hurriedly walked out of the office. Becca's head snapped up when she sees me. "What did the Colonel say?" She asked anxiously.

"Prepare to doll up, Princess." I said, grinning. "We're gonna have a date."

Her smile is beatific.

Another A/N:

If BoB is a musical, what will be the appropriate theme song for each character/ moments? Send me your thought. ^_^

Currently, I'm thinking about "The weight of us" by Sanders Bohlke, "No sound but the wind" by Editors and "Love Vigilantes" by Iron & Wine