Thank you BobtheFrog for the review! I know!
Thank you drovingallday96 for the review! Poor Marie, the poor thing can't seem to catch a break!
Thank you LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX for the review! Maybe this is Marie's opportunity to finally tell Malarkey everything; we'll see what happens!
Thank you blackhawkcawcaw for the review! Sorry for blindsiding you guys!
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Thank you MASHlover23 for the review! Sorry for the cliffhanger! Easy Company will be there for support like they always are.
Thank you Byron W.4 for the review! This chapter will explain why Barb did it.
Thank you mngirl for the review! Things hopefully will start looking up for her again!
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Thank you all so much for your continued support! I'm sorry updates haven't been that fast, but my life has been so busy these last few months. I'm going to try to finish up this story soon!
Saalfelden, Austria
June 1945
Marie felt compact in the CP's main room, it was filled with clutter with documents and various maps pinned to the wall, a strange contradiction between organization and disorganization. She sat on a posh sofa, her reddened eyes gazing down at her knees that shuddered with a slight tremor. Her head swam with the familiar disillusions sense of shock and disbelief, a disorienting emotion she'd unfortunately grown accustomed to. She felt unbelievingly tired, but her room was still being cleaned out by the MPs and searched for possible clues toward Barbara's suicide, so there was no chance for sleep. Lipton approached her, holding onto a teacup placed on a saucer. He held it out to her, and she took it, seeing the steam waft up from the cup. She wasn't thirsty, and was conscious of her trembling hands making the fine china rattle. She let the saucer rest on her lap, unable to bring herself to take a sip. The officers surrounded her, but none of them seemed comfortable enough to start asking the questions that battalion needed answers to.
"Do you have any idea why Corporal Goode would do this?" Winters spoke up in a soft tone, breaking the silence at last. His cyan eyes were heavy with concern and the same shock that she felt.
"She hadn't been herself lately." Marie answered slowly, her voice worn with exhaustion from overuse. "The last thing she said to Abernathy and I was: 'we can't go on like this'." She said as evenly as her voice would allow.
Speirs shifted closer after hearing her response. "Not herself? How so?"
Marie scanned the room, seeing the other officers' eyes watching her, listening intently and also pitying her and the entire situation. Marie focused her heavy eyes back on her attentive CO.
"Always angry, sad, very distant…" She muttered.
"Do you know what pushed her to make her take her own life?"
Marie thought about how Barb had drastically changed after the camps, but Marie had a feeling that the camps couldn't be the sole reason. Something in the men's eyes told her they knew something that she didn't. Marie stared down at the tea, swallowing hard before she spoke.
"What aren't you telling me?" She asked the officers, her eyes flitting to each of them. Most of them couldn't keep eye contact, as if they were ashamed. "What's going on?" She pressed, although her hollow voice wasn't very pressuring.
Nixon cleared his throat awkwardly, his eyes remaining downcast. "Colonel Strayer found something of Corporal Goode's a few weeks back during a routine check."
Marie furrowed her brow in confusion. "Found what?"
Nixon licked his lips, hesitant to want to continue on. "An issue of a girly magazine."
Marie stiffened. She understood everything now.
"Did you know that Corporal Goode was a l-" Nixon continued.
"Does it matter?" Marie snapped, abruptly standing up and knocking over the tea and saucer. "That's no one's business! The girls never cared, she as a good soldier and friend!" She whirled her hand around, though rage blinded her from focusing on the officers before her.
"Colonel Strayer stated that homosexuality is against Army policy-" Welsh tried to explain.
"It's his fault! He found out and was going to expose and humiliate her. Not to mention the dishonorable discharge she would've been branded with!" Marie's nostrils flared like a bull's. Speirs placed a comforting hand on Marie's shoulder, but she hastily shrugged it off and fixed him with a firm glare.
"Marie-" Winters sighed.
"Don't. Just don't." Marie clipped, crossing her arms and turning away from the saddened officers.
"It could've been something else." Lipton interjected, hoping to divert some of her anger.
"You know damn well that IS the reason, and all of you let it happen." Marie replied, her tone accusatory and dangerous, although deep in her heart she knew they didn't let it happen really. She was just furious and needed to vent.
Picturing Barbara afraid and depressed that everyone would find out, knowing she'd be ridiculed all the way home. With the amount of press the female paratroopers get, there would be no doubt that Barb would be shed in a negative light. The camps were still a possibility of her heightening shell shock, along with the news of the Pacific, but her stress about Colonel Strayer's discovery is what pushed Barb to her breaking point. Marie knew it as if it were an instinct. Lipton approached her, uncaring about how angry she was. He drew her into a hug, although she resisted slightly at the feel of his hands. She let her old friend embrace her for a moment, but her arms remained dangling at her sides, her livid feelings still too strong.
"Make sure to keep Strayer away from me." Marie whispered to Lipton. She left without another word, being sure to close the door behind her.
Easy Company stood in formation in their dress greens as Speirs yelled for formation with their rifles. Marie stood numbly, watching the routine spectacle, her insides still burning with the raw feeling of loss. Abernathy stood weakly beside her, her eyes swollen and glistening with still-forming tears from the death. This was the day that battalion would pick who was being sent home, although most of Easy Company knew the raffling was rigged. It was supposed to be a joyous day, but the optimism had been tainted yet again with another friend being lost because of this damned war. They all played along , pretending things were normal, but they weren't – not even close.
"Company!" Speirs bellowed.
"Platoon!" The company roared back.
"Atten-TION!" Speirs barked several more formation orders. "At ease." He ordered, and everyone dropped their attention, relaxing as they stood outside under the blazing sun. "General Taylor is aware that many veterans, including Normandy veterans still do not have the eighty-five points acquired to be discharged. On this, the anniversary of D-Day he has authorized a lottery to send one man home in each company, effective immediately."
Tab walked up to the officers, carrying a hat with strips of paper containing serial numbers. Welsh reached his hand into the hat and pulled out a strip and handed it to Speirs.
"For Easy Company, the winner is- serial number: 13066266. Sergeant Darrel C. Powers!"
The entire company cheered for him like a rambunctious crowd at a baseball game. Marie glanced over at Shifty, beaming and shaking his head. He knew the boys had rigged it, but she could tell he was eager to return home. Marie clapped for him, as did Abernathy, although they remained mute during the celebratory chants. Marie hated feeling this bitter, but she couldn't help but tune into that voice whispering in the back of her mind.
That could've been Barbara's ticket home.
"Sergeant Grant will see to it that 2nd platoon takes over at the crossroads checkpoint beginning tonight at 2200 hours. General Taylor has also announced that the 101st Airborne Division will definitely be redeployed to the Pacific. So, beginning tomorrow at 0600 hours, we will begin training to go to war."
An immediate hush fell over the company with Speirs' news. A weight settled in Marie's stomach hearing the finalized order. She'd have to begin practicing on treating men on the field again, knowing her skills had gotten rusty over the course of the last few months. She stole a glance at Abernathy, whom she'd expect to be trembling, but instead appeared stern. Marie found Malarkey in the crowd, watching his calmed reaction of the news. She knew he wouldn't be surprised, especially not with the news of 2nd platoon doing most of the work as usual. The company was dismissed and prepared to ready themselves for the ongoing war raging on the other side of the world.
Although there were plenty of problems waiting to happen in Austria.
The month of June had become nothing but one series of unfortunate events after another. Two days after Shifty was announced at the raffle, he was in a car accident caused by a drunken corporal. He suffered from a broken pelvis, broken arm, and a bad concussion. Instead of spending time at home, he was now recovering in a hospital. Marie found out that Winters had applied for a transfer away from Easy Company to be with the 13th Airborne. They were all set to jump into the Pacific sooner than later, and Nixon was right behind him with the transfer. To most of the company's relief, the transfer was later found out to be denied. By this time everyone had become restless, which was a dangerous combination for seasoned and unseasoned soldiers. Trouble started brewing in Austria, more than Easy Company was prepared for. First it was Barb's suicide, now it was John Janovec, whom died in a truck accident right as Webster went to relieve him of duty.
Marie took the constant terrible news the way she usually did, isolation and occasional physical intimacy with Malarkey. On June, during one of crossroad checks, Marie and Malarkey had both been excused. He spent the night in her room, working off the stress in the best way they knew how. After Barbara's suicide, he went to her to talk, but she said that she "didn't need a therapy session." She'd never been good at expressing her feelings through words, anyway.
A sudden knock came rapping at her door, causing both of them to freeze in their activities. Marie dug her nails further into Malarkey's back, her sweat turning cold at the thought of being caught. Malarkey stared down at her, his eyes wide and his breathing labored. The knock came again, this time more hurried. He rolled off her, quickly trying to find a place to hide, brining the blanket with him for decency. Marie got up, quickly throwing on a robe and combing her hair with her fingers. She cautiously opened the door slightly, peering out to see who was there. Talbert's distressed face stared back at her.
"Floyd?" Marie breathed.
"Listen, you gotta come with me right now! Get dressed and grab your medic pack." He rapidly explained, almost running out of breath.
"What? What's wrong?" Marie questioned, feeling on edge now.
"It's Chuck. He's been shot in the head. Please, we have to hurry."
Marie brought her hand up to her mouth in shock. Shot? Shot by whom? Marie went back and the room and did as she was told, she wanted to tell Malarkey but Tab was waiting right outside the door and she didn't want to let him know.
"I've got to go, there's been an incident." She whispered in the dark, quickly dressing into her BDUs and grabbing her medical pack. "You should get back to your room, I'm sure the guys have heard by now."
"Okay." He whispered back.
She opened the door when she was finished and followed Tab, leaving Malarkey alone. Outside Marie saw Speirs and Roe in a truck. Roe was holding an IV of plasma with Grant's unconscious body laying in the back seat. The two of them jumped in, and Marie went right to work checking his head wound. The driver slammed the accelerator with his boot and raced down the street.
"Christ, what the hell happened?" Marie asked, bewildered.
"It as a fuckin' drunk sentry; Grant was shot while patrolling." Speirs answered, his tone overflowing with fury.
"You mean one of our guys did this?"
"No, he wasn't from our company at least." Tab replied, the two of them cradling Grant's wounded body. Marie stared down at him, her insides bunching up at the thought of another death this month. They weren't in combat, this wasn't supposed to be happening.
"Shouldn't we be heading to the battalion surgeon?" Marie asked.
Speirs shook his head. "He said Grant needs a brain surgeon and there's nothing he can do. We're looking for a brain surgeon right now. I know there's one around here."
Marie glanced down at Grant again, gently clutching his limp hand. There was no guarantee the surgeon would even help them at this hour, but knowing Speirs, he'd force the surgeon to cooperate. Marie looked at Roe hopelessly, who returned her look with a tired glance as he continued to clutch the plasma.
The car halted on the street in front of a building. Speirs jumped out and started rapidly knocking on the door. Marie watched as a tall older man with white hair answered. Speirs drew his pistol on him.
"Come with me." Speirs stated, his impatience getting the best of him.
"Why?" The Austrian man asked, his eyes landing on the gun.
"Get in the jeep."
Without protesting the surgeon reached around inside his door and took a coat, following Speirs. "Where am I going?"
"To the hospital, get in." Speirs replied.
"If you're going to shoot me, shoot me. If you're not, then put the gun away!"
"Get in the jeep, now." Speirs pressed. Finally the doctor climbed in, but they hadn't started going yet.
"What happened to him?"
"He was shot in the head." Roe answered, grimly.
The surgeon peeled back the bandage covering Grant's head, observing the wound. He squinted, trying to get a better look through the dark. Speirs watched him carefully.
"Half hour ago." Speirs said, insinuating when Grant got shot. He nudged the doctor with the gun. "Come on."
"If you want him to live, you'll help me. First, by putting that away." The surgeon looked at Speirs, he was growing tired of the threats.
"Do as he says, Captain." Marie suggested, looking at Speirs with helpless eyes.
Speirs holstered his gun. "Let's go."
"Let me drive, we'll get there faster." The surgeon said, already climbing to the front seat.
Speirs ordered Marie and Roe to stay behind with the surgeon and assist him with Grant's emergency surgery. Speirs ordered Tab to go back and orchestrate a search party. He wanted all the noncoms guarding each roadblock and at least two men watching each road out of town. Tab left in a hurry.
The surgeon made sure Grant's head remained still as he was placed on the table. Grant was given oxygen and a thin sheet was placed over his body. Marie knew the risks of performing surgery in an unsterile environment, but there wasn't a choice, Grant had almost been shot an hour ago. Scalpels, surgical knives, iodine, water, rags, and anything else the small team could gather. The surgeon quickly shaved the left side of Grant's head and started making the incisions. The surgery went for hours into the night, but the cautious precision was necessary. Marie stood next to the Austrian surgeon, watching the older man poke around in his skull. The bleeding was deep, and the process was messy, but Marie and Roe kept the area as clean as possible. The pink tissues and clear matter was moved and cut around with scalpels that Marie handed the surgeon on his order. Brain matter and blood got on Marie's hands and clothes, but she didn't care, saving Grant was all that mattered now. Speirs had been pacing during most of the procedure, until finally the doctor suggested that he leave because he was being too distracting. He obeyed, going to help East Company find the scumbag responsible.
"Pressure is under control, and the internal hemorrhaging has stopped." The surgeon announced in a thick Austrian accent. He carefully analyzed Grant's opened cranium, his tools and fingers inside.
Marie peeked inside, but even her trained eyes couldn't pick up anything from all the shades of what appeared to be pink mush and clear liquid being moved around in the skull. This was beyond her expertise; she knew about the brain and nervous system, but not as much as this doctor had.
"What about an intracerebral hematoma?" Marie asked, referring to the possibility of blood clots in the brain.
"No. What I am worried about is behavioral changes." The surgeon told her, still poking around in Grant's head. "You know about the frontal lobe, yes?"
"I know it controls emotion and personality." Marie answered, staring worriedly at the doctor.
"It also is responsible for motor function, spontaneity, memory, problem solving, language, initiation, impulse control, judgment, social and sexual behavior. But the trauma was done to the left frontal lobe, which controls language related movement." The surgeon explained.
"You sayin' Grant could wake up not bein' able to talk?" Roe interjected, administering Grant's fluid intake from an IV.
"He could not be able to speak as many words." The surgeon added.
Marie sighed heavily, feeling defeated in all aspects of Grant's injury. He'd either die and become a permanent vegetable in a coma or conscious, or wake up with the IQ of a first grader. The odds were against them, even when the surgeon stitched up Grant and said it was successful. Marie re-bandaged Grant's head, her messy hands fumbling with exhaustion. Grant was still unconscious on the gurney, but at least his head would be okay, physically anyway. The two medics thanked the surgeon excessively before he left to return home, and he gave them instructions on what to do when he woke up… if he woke up. Roe elected to stay overnight and keep watch so Marie could get some rest, although her plan was to go find Speirs and tell him the news.
As Marie made her back to her barracks to clean up, she overheard a couple of soldiers talking nearby, keeping watch outside no doubt. She slowed her pace, listening in on their conversation.
"They caught that asshole that shot that sergeant."
"Really? Who is it?"
"I dunno, some replacement from I Company. Anyway, that ain't the only thing he done. He shot an officer and some others, and I heard he took advantage of a young Austrian girl and one of the female paratroopers."
Marie stopped dead in her tracks.
"You sayin' he raped one of the women?"
"Yeah, poor girl was found limping around base. They sent her to a nearby kraut hospital for privacy. I think the same hospital the sergeant was sent to."
Marie took off running toward CP. Her exhaustion she had fled her body instantly. This man had not only seriously injured Grant, he had forcefully took Abernathy. Something snapped in Marie, she could swear she could hear the sound in her head. Something ugly awoke in her; it was a feeling similar to her emotions when she was killing the German. A scary idea entered her head, one she was determined to follow through if it was the last thing she did. She would make sure this man would die. Too many of her friends had been hurt, and she would make sure it would never happen again.
Marie burst through the CP's grand doors, her nostrils flaring as she stormed inside. Luz and Tab were playing cards, but jumped as she launched herself inside. As she quickly approached, the two of them hopped up, blocking her from going on.
"Let me in." She said, her tone low and predator-like.
"Is Chuck alright?" Tab asked, his face drawn with concern.
She shoved Luz aside, with a force that surprised him. Talbert went to grab her arm, but she yanked herself away. She didn't want anyone to stop her from seeing the murderous predator.
She opened the glass doors to find Speirs pointing a pistol at the man, whom was sitting in a chair. He was badly bloodied and beaten. Malarkey, Bull, Christenson, Perconte, Popeye, Liebgott, Martin, and Vest surrounded them. They all peered over at Marie, seeing her post surgery appearance. Malarkey was at her side, gripping onto her forearms so she couldn't lunge herself at the man and get a hit in. He tried to calm her, but her rage was so pure that even he couldn't get her to calm down.
Marie glared daggers at the man, he looked like a weasel; vermin that needed to be exterminated. Malarkey said something to her, but her focus on the replacement deafened her completely.
"How is he?" Speirs asked her, slightly lowering his gun.
"The surgery went well, but we won't know Grant's condition until he wakes up. The damage was done to the frontal lobe, which is responsible for language and many other things. He could wake up with the brain capacity of a child with an altered personality." She stated, her eyes unwavering from her target.
The men wilted with the news. Speirs' lips drew in a thin line as he brought the pistol back up to the man's head. She saw Malarkey close his eyes, preparing for Speirs to kill the man. Marie kept her eyes wide open; she wanted to see the bullet enter his head and scar up his flesh and brain. She yearned for it as much as she did for basic survival. Her anticipation continued to mount as Speirs held the gun for so long it felt like several minutes. The gun trembled in Speirs' tight grip until finally he dropped it.
"Get him out of here. Let the MP take care of him." Speirs ordered.
"What?" Marie exclaimed, enraged by his decision.
Liebgott, Bull, and Martin pulled the replacement to his feet. She could hear the pathetic waste whimpering as he was forced upward. Marie went to take a step, but Malarkey stopped her.
"Why aren't you going to kill him? After everything he's done!"
"Who are we to make that decision? Chuck is still alive." Speirs answered evenly, his steely gaze resting on the dis-shelved medic.
"That's bullshit!" She snapped. "This entire war we fucking kill the enemy for cruelty, but we make an exception for this sack of shit? He's killed multiple people, wounded Grant and possibly changed him, and he raped Abernathy!" She shrilly added, forcing her way out of Malarkey's grip.
"MP and battalion will take care of him, it's out of our hands." Speirs replied calmly.
"No!" Marie protested. Justice hadn't been served. She couldn't let him get away with it.
"That's enough, Sergeant Docherty. I order you to return to OP 2 and get some rest. It's been a long day."
Marie held up her hands that were now violently shaking with rage. "See this? It's parts of Grant's brain."
"Marie, that's enough." Malarkey cut in, his tone a desperate whisper.
"Malarkey, take her to her barracks." Speirs walked past them.
She watched Speirs until he disappeared, and reluctantly went with Malarkey. He understood her frustration, but he didn't know how deep her intentions went. He kissed her goodnight and promised he would talk to her about everything in the morning. He left without realizing she'd slipped his P38 from its holster. She hadn't handled a gun since Toccoa, but she was determined to put to rest what needed to be done.
She was out for blood.