September 7th, 1943

Evelyn grimaced and rubbed Popeye's back soothingly as he leaned over the side of the railings and hurled. They had set sail from New York harbour on the Samaria the previous day, and many of the men were seasick. As a result, she, Roe and Spina had been kept rather busy handing out seasickness pills and keeping a watchful eye out for those who were feeling the ill effects of being on board a moving vessel at sea.

"Sorry about your shirt, Ev," Popeye apologised, wiping his mouth shakily. Evelyn had brought him up to the deck of the ship in the hopes that the fresh air might have helped him a little, but the second they got up here, he had vomited all over her and hadn't stopped since.

"Don't worry about it, Pop," she smiled, handing him a canteen of water. "You can make it up to me when we get wherever we're going."

"Sure thing," he murmured, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the cool metal bars of the railings.

Quiet footfalls approached and Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to see Eugene headed in their direction with a plate in his hands.

"You missed lunch," he said. "Thought you might be hungry."

"Don't talk about food, Doc," Popeye complained leaning over the railing to vomit again. Evelyn smirked at Eugene then picked up the sandwich from the plate he was holding and took a huge bite, while still rubbing Popeye's back. Eugene just shook his head at her. Over the last few months, there was one thing that they had all come to learn about Evelyn Guarnere. Nothing got in her way or put her off when it came to eating food.

"How's everyone else doing?" she asked, gulping down her mouthful.

"Much better now that the pills have finally seemed to kick in," Eugene answered. "Hopefully it'll stay that way."

Evelyn nodded and took another bite of her sandwich. It was stale and tasted like chewing on cardboard, but she wasn't going to complain. Food was food, after all. And for a girl who was always hungry, she couldn't exactly afford to be picky. She glanced out at the dark blue water as she chewed, completely in awe of just how vast it was. Beside her Popeye stood up and took a drink from his canteen. He was still white as a sheet and he looked exhausted.

"How about we get you back downstairs?" she suggested, taking him by the arm. "You might feel a little better if you can get some sleep. And I know I could use some."

"You always want to sleep," Eugene commented as they began to head back below decks. "When you're not eating that is. Or talking."

"Do you hear this, Popeye?" Evelyn opened her mouth in feigned outrage. "Do you hear the kind of insults I have to put up with from this guy?"

"And there was me thinking that Doc was mild mannered and meek," Popeye joked quietly. "Guess I was wrong."

… … …

They had been on board the ship for four days and Evelyn was in a foul mood. Being crammed into a cabin with five thousand or so men who made enough noise to wake the dead all day and night was becoming more than a little bit annoying. Her irritation wasn't helped by the fact that her monthly visitor had decided to make an appearance the night before.

"What about her? She's pretty, right?"

With a sigh, Evelyn looked up from the book she had been trying to read for the last half an hour. Try being the operative word. It wasn't exactly easy to concentrate when her uterus felt like it was being stabbed with a hot poker, nor when Malarkey kept nudging her every two minutes to ask her opinion of the pin up girls in his magazine.

"Yeah, I guess," she shrugged, glancing disinterestedly at the smiling dark haired woman in a striking white two piece.

"You guess? Is that it?" Malarkey asked incredulously. "Look at her, Ev. She's smoking hot."

Evelyn just rolled her eyes and turned back to her book, while Malarkey, completely unperturbed by her reaction, carried on scanning the glossy pages of his magazine eagerly. Although she truly loved that the guys treated her as one of them, she did often wonder if they actually remembered that she was a female beneath her uniform.

"Enjoying your book?" her brother asked from his cot, across from her own.

"I would be if people would stop pestering me enough to let me read it," she answered, not looking up from the page she was reading. If she had looked up, she would have seen the amused smirk pass between Bill and Malarkey.

Despite trying her best to ignore the incessant chatter around her and concentrate on her book, Evelyn found the words all beginning to merge into one until she finally slammed the book shut with a huff. Closing her eyes, she lay her head on her arms and listened to the conversation from the bunks closest to her.

"Guys, I'm glad I'm going to Europe," Joe Toye rasped, pulling out a switchblade. "Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe. Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye day and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life."

"What if we don't get to Europe?" Smokey asked from above them. "What if they send us to North Africa?"

"Our brother's in North Africa," Bill said, taking a drag of his cigarette. "He says it's hot."

"Really? It's hot in Africa?" Malarkey commented. "Regular Einstein your brother, huh Ev?"

"Tell me about it," Evelyn grinned, her eyes still closed.

"Shut up," her brother turned around and yanked on her bun. She looked up and scowled at him. "Point is, it don't matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself and the fella next to you."

"Hey, as long as he's a paratrooper," Joe said.

"Or she," Evelyn muttered, and Joe winked at her.

"Oh yeah?" Luz joined in the conversation, climbing up to his cot. "What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?"

Malarkey stared ominously at Evelyn who put a hand dramatically to her forehead and pretended to faint in shock, getting a short laugh from Don, while Toye shook his head at the two of them.

"If I'm next to Sobel in combat then I'm moving on down the line," Christenson said. "Hook up with some other officer like Heyliger or Winters."

"I like Winters, he's a good man," Bill stood up to stretch his legs. "But when the bullets start flying I don't know if I want a Quaker doin' my fightin' for me."

"How do you know he's a Quaker?" Muck asked.

"He ain't Catholic."

"Neither is Sobel," Malarkey added.

"That prick's a son of Abraham," Bill snorted.

"He's what?" Liebgott asked, sitting on his cot, long legs dangling over the side. Evelyn looked over at him, thinking she had detected a hint of hostility in his tone. The expression on his face seemed to confirm it.

"He's a Jew," her brother answered, throwing his finished cigarette onto the floor.

"Fuck," Liebgott jumped down from his cot and stomped over to Bill. Evelyn went to stand up, but Malarkey put a hand on her arm to stop her and shook his head. "I'm a Jew."

"Congratulations," Bill replied, looking Liebgott up and down. "Now get your nose outta my face."

The second that Liebgott went for Bill, chaos erupted as men jumped from their bunks to try and break them up. Evelyn squeezed her way through the group to try and get in between the two of them, but just as she got close, Liebgott went to punch Bill and ended up elbowing her in the face instead.

"Shit Ev, are you alright?" Liebgott rushed over, his fight with Bill abruptly brought to an end. He took her hands and moved them away from her face to see that her nose was pouring with blood.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised as she used her t-shirt to catch the blood dripping down her face. "I didn't see you and-"

"-Get the fuck away from her now," Bill growled shoving Liebgott away from Evelyn, before leading her to the nearest bunk. "Look what you've done to her."

"Bill," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose and tilting her head backwards. "Calm down, it was an accident."

"I don't give a shit," he glared as the rest of the guys stayed close by, waiting for round two to begin. "You best get outta my sight Liebgott before I punch you in the fucking face."

"Come on then," Liebgott answered angrily.

He couldn't believe that Bill would actually think he would ever hurt Evelyn on purpose. But in typical Liebgott fashion, he wasn't going to back down from a fight, especially not when he was still so wound up about the comments Guarnere had made. This time when they went for each other again, everyone else was ready to stop them. It took Skip, Malarkey, Smokey and Toye to hold Bill back, while Joe was restrained by Luz, Skinny and Christenson.

"Come on Lieb, let's go up on deck for a while," Skinny suggested, trying to pull him away.

"No," Liebgott refused. "I'm not going anywhere, I've done nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong?" Bill exclaimed. "Have you seen my sister's fucking face?"

"I already told you that it was an accident," Liebgott glared. "And it wouldn't have happened if you had just kept your ignorant fucking mouth shut."

Sensing another row, Evelyn stood up, holding the handkerchief to her nose that Perconte had passed to her. She walked over to Liebgott and put a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"Joe, why don't you go with Skinny for some fresh air, yeah?" she smiled at him. "You and Bill need to cool off and neither of you can do that crammed in here together."

Liebgott looked like he wanted to say something but wisely refrained from opening his mouth. Evelyn squeezed his arm again. He nodded reluctantly, shooting Bill one last glare before allowing Skinny to lead him away.

"What a fucking asshole," Bill spat when Evelyn sat back down on the bunk. Eugene had come over at this point and was prodding Evelyn's nose looking for any sign that it might be broken.

"You're one to talk," Evelyn glared at him.

"I'm not the one who punched a woman in the face," Bill opened his mouth in outrage.

"First of all, he didn't punch me. He elbowed me, and it was an accident. You all saw that it was an accident," she answered, her eyes blazing. "And second, you started the whole thing with your smart mouth comments. If the roles were reversed, are you telling me that you wouldn't have reacted the way he did? You know what Bill? You can be many things, many stupid things; arrogant, hot headed; the list goes on. But I didn't think you were a bigot."

"A bigot? I don't fucking believe this," Bill muttered angrily. "Are you actually defending him? I'm your brother for Christ's sake."

"And it's only because you're my brother that I'm talking to you right now," she hissed as Eugene prodded the bruised part of her nose.

"I'm sorry," Bill sighed eventually.

"It's not me you need to apologise to."

… … …

Liebgott didn't return to the cabin until just before lights out, at which point most of the guys had forgotten about the fight and were either sleeping or chatting quietly. Evelyn didn't need to look beside her to see that her brother was fast asleep. The loud snoring sound he emitted was a huge clue. She was still mad at him. Still mad at the things he had said, but he had sworn to her that he would apologise to Liebgott in the morning if it made her happy.

Looking up, Evelyn saw Liebgott headed towards his bunk. She got up from her own and strolled over to him.

"Hey," she smiled. "Feeling better?"

"I still wanna punch your brother in the face if that's what you mean?" Liebgott smirked.

"Yeah, well I feel like that daily so don't worry about it," she joked.

"Speaking of faces, how's your nose?" Liebgott asked as they sat down on his bunk.

"Weirdly it feels like someone elbowed it," she grinned and Liebgott shoved her playfully. "Genuinely though, it's fine. A bit sore, but I'll live."

"I really am sorry, you know," his dark eyes met her own green ones sincerely. Evelyn felt her stomach do that strange flippy thing as Joe put his hand under her chin and turned her face gently so he could get a better look at her swollen nose. She could feel her heart pounding so hard in her chest that she thought it might burst out at any given moment.

"I know," she said quietly and placed her hand over his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Abruptly, Joe let his hand fall from her face and they just smiled at one another. "I'm sorry about Bill, you know. He just, well, he doesn't always think before he opens his mouth."

"You're telling me," Liebgott snorted.

"Genuinely Joe, he's not a bad guy," she tried to persuade him, glancing over at Bill, who at the moment muttered something in his sleep and rolled over onto his stomach. "He just doesn't have a filter between his brain and his mouth. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he even has a brain inside that thick skull of his."

"I know," Liebgott muttered quietly. "It's just that growing up, insults like that were thrown around quite a lot in our neighbourhood. I have friends whose windows were smashed up or shops broken into just because they were Jews. You would think by now, I would be used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Evelyn said sympathetically, understanding now why Bill's words had affected him so much. "No one should have to put up with anything like that because of who they are or what they believe."

Liebgott just shrugged and lit up a cigarette. Evelyn got the impression that it wasn't something he really wanted to talk much more about. It was getting late anyway and she should probably try to get some sleep. The thing was, she didn't really want to go though. There was something nice about just sitting here with Liebgott, even if it was just in silence.

"So, uh, it's probably time to get some sleep soon, huh?" Liebgott said as though reading her thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess," she answered, making a move to jump down from the bunk.

"You don't have to go," Liebgott grabbed her arm gently to stop her. "I mean, uh, if you wanted to stay for a bit we would chat or something?"

"That would be nice," she smiled, bringing her legs up onto the bunk and crossing them. She wriggled a little to get comfortable. "Maybe it's time to make good on your promise and teach me some German now?"

"Fine," Liebgott grinned. "But only if I can teach you how to call your brother all kinds of awful names?"

Evelyn laughed and nodded, "That sounds fair to me."

Two hours later, they were still talking, albeit in hushed tones as everyone else was asleep. They had talked about anything and everything, learning more about each other in two hours than they had in an entire year together. And Evelyn now knew how to call Bill at least ten offensive things in German. Although she highly doubted that she would remember them all by the morning.

In the pitch black, they hadn't noticed Eugene watching them with a smile on his face. He counted Evelyn as one of his closest friends in the Company, and over the past year he had learned to read her like a book. He got the feeling that whatever Liebgott was feeling for her, she reciprocated those feelings. He snorted to himself upon thinking that the two of them genuinely seemed to have no idea just how the other felt. But it most certainly wasn't his place to tell either of them. They would figure it out in their own time. Eventually.

… … …

September 23rd 1943

Nestled deep in the Wiltshire countryside, Aldbourne was quintessentially British. A small village made up of stone cottages and shops, it was like something from a story book. Easy Company and the rest of the 506th arrived late in the afternoon to an unwelcome downpouring of rain. Something they would become used to during their time in England, where rain was an almost daily occurrence.

To house another regiment within the confines of such a small village was no easy feat. The Sergeants were all housed in a horse stable that no longer had any horses, while the rest of the men and officers were billeted with local families or put in specially erected barracks close to regimental headquarters. Bill thought Evelyn was lucky when she found out that she was to stay with the Jones family who lived on the outskirts of the village, but she wasn't so sure. Of course she could see the welcome appeal in staying in a warm house with a real bed, but there was also the awkwardness of having to live with people she had never met before.

The Jones house wasn't difficult to find and as Evelyn walked up the garden path, she noticed how immaculately kept it was with flowers and plants in a vast array of colours and sizes. It was beautiful, and someone obviously spent a lot of time keeping it that way. She rang the doorbell and within seconds, a middle aged woman wearing a flowery apron answered.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked.

"Uh I hope so," Evelyn answered. "Is this the Jones' residence?"

"It is," the woman confirmed, eyeing her curiously.

"In that case, I believe you're expecting me," Evelyn smiled, holding out a hand. "I'm Corporal Guarnere from the 506th."

The woman seemed momentarily taken aback but quickly plastered a warm smile on her face. She shook Evelyn's hand quickly and then motioned her inside the doorway and out of the pouring rain.

"I'm Mrs Jones, but you can call me Nora," she said, leading Evelyn down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen, where a little girl sat at the kitchen table, shelling peas into a bowl. No older than seven or eight with long blonde hair, the little girl stared at Evelyn with blatant curiosity. "Harry, my husband will be home soon. He works on the farm on the other side of the village. And this is our daughter, Lucy."

"Pleased to meet you," Evelyn said, glancing around the small kitchen that wasn't too dissimilar to her own one at home. "You can call me Evelyn if you want to."

Mrs Jones motioned for her to sit down and she did so gladly.

"You must be tired after such a long journey," Mrs Jones commented as she bustled around the kitchen. "How about a nice cup of tea and then I'll show you to your room where you can have a rest before supper?"

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"Call me Nora. Please. If you're to stay here then we had better dispense with the formalities, don't you think? You know, when they told us we were going to be housing a Yank here, I had no idea they would be sending a woman. My Harry's going to have a shock when he sees you. Oh, not that it's a problem, dear," Mrs Jones smiled warmly, seeing Evelyn's expression. "It's just that, well, I didn't realise your lot had women fighting in the army."

"We don't. Well, apart from me that is. I signed up to be a nurse originally, but then the powers that be decided they wanted to trial having a female combat medic, and I agreed to be the guinea pig," Evelyn explained.

"Well, I never," Mrs Jones commented, placing down a cup of what Evelyn presumed was tea in front of her. "Now, I don't know if you usually take your tea with sugar but because of rationing I'm afraid we don't have any and there's only a little milk."

"Oh that's fine. Thank you," Evelyn answered, peering at the clear brown liquid in her cup. In truth, she had never so much as seen a cup of tea before let alone tasted one. She took a hesitant sip and tried not to grimace. She couldn't exactly explain the flavour, perhaps because there wasn't really one. She decided that adding a drop of milk might help. She was wrong. It was almost like drinking hot milky water. But in an effort not to look rude, she drank it all anyway.

Looking across the table, she saw that the little girl, Lucy, still hadn't taken her eyes off of her. Feeling a little bit like an animal in a zoo, Evelyn smiled tentatively. Lucy took this as a cue to talk.

"You talk strange," she said.

"Lucy, don't be rude," her mother admonished.

"It's alright," Evelyn chuckled. "I guess I do sound a little funny, don't I? But you know, you talk a little strange to me too."

Lucy seemed to ponder that answer for a moment before breaking into a wide smile.

"Do you like cats?" she asked.

"Uh yeah, I guess," Evelyn answered, confused by the sudden change in conversation.

"Michael Ashford down the road has just had kittens," Lucy explained. "Well not him, his cat. Anyway, they're in the garden shed and his Mum said I can come and see them whenever I want. Do you want to go and have a look at them before Dad gets home?"

"Maybe another time, Lucy," Mrs Jones said. "Do you not think our guest might like to rest before dinner?"

"Oh Mum," Lucy groaned. "Please can I take her to see them? Please, please, please, pleeeeeeeease."

"Fine, but I want you back in half an hour, okay?" Mrs Jones sighed and gave Evelyn an apologetic look.

Lucy jumped down from her chair excitedly and tugged Evelyn's jacket until she stood up. Despite her fatigue, the little girl's enthusiasm was infectious and before Evelyn knew it, they were headed out the door and down the street.

The kittens were ridiculously sweet, and Evelyn had a hard time persuading Lucy that they should go home once their half an hour was up. The little girl put up quite a good argument but Evelyn put her foot down. She didn't want to get into Mrs Jones' bad books already.

Mr Jones had gotten home just before them, and Evelyn guessed that his wife had warned him that his new house guest wasn't exactly what he had been expecting, because he managed to refrain from giving her the same shocked look that Mrs Jones had upon first meeting her. Over dinner, which was mutton stew (although due to rationing Evelyn was hard pressed to find any mutton in it), the Jones' enquired all about Evelyn's life back in America and Mr Jones especially was rather impressed to hear all about the training she had completed to become a paratrooper.

After dinner, Mrs Jones had staunchly refused Evelyn's offer to help with the dishes and insisted that she go up to her room to rest. She had been allocated the small box room right at the top of the stairs. It was tiny but cosy and clean. Evelyn got into the bed and sighed. After weeks being cooped up with men, it was rather nice to have some time to herself. Undressing down to her undergarments, she crawled under the soft covers and smiled to herself. Perhaps being billeted with the Jones' wasn't going to be so bad after all.

… … …

2nd December, 1943

Field training. That was all they had done for the last nine weeks. Fifteen hours a day, six days a week. They had practised jumping out of planes with all of their gear on; they had practised digging foxholes and they had practised launching offensives in the woods. All kinds of things.

As if being outside all day in the relentless rain, getting covered in mud, wasn't bad enough, there was one thing that made it worse… Sobel. He was a hopeless case. It seemed that he had learnt nothing from his failures in training back in Fort Benning and Camp Mackall. If anything, he was getting worse. He couldn't read a map and was always getting them lost. Or killed. Or more often that not, both at the same time.

It seemed to irk him greatly that Winters didn't suffer any kind of trouble and was proving himself to be the better leader of the two. Therefore, it didn't exactly come as a surprise when Sobel tried to get his own back on Lieutenant Winters. Apparently, he had been due to inspect the latrines at 1000 hours, but Sobel had decided to change that time to 0945. Winters had been completely unaware of this change, and when Sobel had threatened him with court martial if he didn't agree to waive his right to a forty eight hour pass for the next sixty days, Winters had called Sobel's bluff and requested the court martial. While Colonel Strayer tried to figure out the procedure for the court martial, Winters had been reassigned to Battalion Mess leaving the whole company up in arms. They had no idea when they would be invading Europe. It could literally happen with only a day or two's notice, and none of them relished the idea of going into combat with Sobel leading them. But what could they do?

It was a Thursday afternoon when Evelyn went to the Sergeant's barracks to find Bill. She found him and all of the others sat around a table, gloomy expressions plastered to their faces.

"My, my, we all look a happy bunch today, don't we? Well I've got just the thing to cheer you all up." She plonked a basket down in the middle of the table and smirked. "Lardy cakes, gentlemen. Don't thank me all at once."

Lardy cakes were something they had discovered from the village bakery. They were cakes made from animal lard, fruit, flour and a little sugar. Everyone went crazy for them, even if they were a heart attack waiting to happen. The thing was, due to rationing, the bakery didn't always have enough ingredients to make the lardy cake, so when they did have it, someone tended to buy up the whole lot to share amongst everyone else. Evelyn, with her ridiculously sweet tooth, wasn't ashamed to admit that she went up to the bakery most days in search of the delicious treat.

"Thanks for the cake and all Ev, but we're kinda busy here," Bill said, glancing uncomfortably at Lipton beside him.

"Yeah you all look real busy," Evelyn snorted, digging into the basket for a cake. "Having a mother's meeting are we?"

Judging from the serious looks that passed between them all, Evelyn had a sudden realisation that she had perhaps walked into something important.

"You know what? I'm just gonna go," she decided, taking a bite of her cake. "I only came by to drop these off anyway and I got a letter from Gina. Thought you might wanna read it, Bill but I'll just come back later."

"Wait," Johnny Martin called out just before she walked out of the door. "You may as well tell her, Bill. She is your sister after all, and we know she won't tell anyone."

"Evelyn, come in here and shut the door," Lipton said quietly.

Closing the door, she walked back over to the table with a confused frown on her face. What on earth was going on?

"You know about Winters and his court martial, right?" Bill started.

"Of course," Evelyn nodded. "Everyone knows."

"Well, you also know that if we follow Sobel into war, we are all gonna be dead meat. Which is why we have decided to take matters into our own hands."

Chuck Grant closest to Evelyn handed her a stack of papers. They all read the same thing; I hereby no longer wish to serve as a non-commissioned officer in Easy Company. The only thing that was different on each of them were the signatures at the bottom. She frowned. And then suddenly it dawned on her what they were doing.

"Are you being serious?" she exclaimed, staring straight at her brother. "Are you actually being fucking serious?"

"Evelyn…" Bill started.

"Don't Evelyn me!" she cut him off angrily. "You're all deranged. You do realise that Sink could have you all shot if you go through with this ridiculous idea?"

"We know," Lipton spoke calmly. "But we have no other choice, Evelyn."

"Besides, he ain't gonna shoot all of us," Bill added. "Not if we stick together."

"And you know this for a fact, do you?" Evelyn blazed. "I can see that you've all made up your minds, haven't you? Can I say anything to make that change?"

They glanced at one another uncomfortably and Bill sighed. He stood up and walked over to his sister.

"Evie, I understand you're upset," he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wouldn't you be if you just found out your own brother had pretty much literally just signed his own death wish?" she shrugged his hand away. "You know what? I'm going. I don't even wanna look at you right now."

Without another word she stormed off, flinging the papers angrily onto the table. Bill swore under his breath. Suddenly the door was flung open again and Evelyn marched back, refusing to look at any of them. She swiped the basket off the table and with her head held high, stormed back out again. Talbert snorted the second the door slammed shut. They must have really pissed her off if she wouldn't even leave them their cakes.

"You gonna go after her, Bill?" Randleman asked.

"Nah," Bill shook his head and lit up a cigarette. "I think it's best if I leave her alone right now."

Bill understood his sister's anger and worry, but she didn't realise that she was half of his reason for doing this. The thought of his baby sister getting killed all because Sobel was a danger unto himself was enough to risk his own life for.

"All right," Lipton gathered the papers and stood up. "Good luck boys."

… … …

The next day

Evelyn was sitting at the kitchen table polishing her boots when there was a knock at the door. She hadn't slept all night and had the headache from hell. Padding down the hallway in her bare feet, Evelyn opened the door, expecting to see Mrs Jones, who had gone to the shops earlier and had a terrible habit of forgetting her key. When she saw that it was Bill she glared at him. She went to close the door but he wedged it open with his foot.

"Well you're not dead then?" she commented sarcastically. "'Cause ghosts can't hold doors open. At least I don't think they can, anyway."

"If I ever meet one, I'll be sure to ask them," Bill joked. "Can I come in?"

"I guess," she sighed, opening the door to reluctantly let him in.

"Mrs Jones not in?"

"No she went to the shop," Evelyn answered curtly as they walked back into the kitchen. "Lucy went with her."

Little Lucy was somewhat enamoured with Bill. She had been from the second she had met him. Bill thought she was adorable and when the Jones' had him round for dinner every Sunday, he would always be sure to bring something for his new friend.

"As much as I love that kid, I'm glad she ain't here right now," Bill said. "'Cause I need to talk to you on your own."

"Well get on with it then," Evelyn crossed her arms impatiently. "I've got stuff to do."

"Alrighty then, no need to get testy," Bill muttered.

"No need to get testy?" she raised an eyebrow. "How else do you expect me to feel when my idiot of a brother could get shot for mutiny any time now?"

"That's why I'm here. We had our meeting with Sink this morning," Bill said.

Evelyn looked at him in disbelief. He was still in his uniform, and still very much alive. So just what had happened in this meeting?

"Harris is out and Ranney has been busted to Private. Even then I think that's only because Sink had to make an example of someone," Bill told her. "But the rest of us just got a telling off."

"That's it? A telling off?"

"Yeah," Bill grinned as if he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "And it gets better than that. Sobel's gone."

"Excuse me?" Evelyn wasn't entirely sure she had heard him correctly.

"It's true," Bill chuckled at the expression on her face. "Sink's had him transferred to a jump school at Chilton Foliat. No more fucking Sobel for Easy Company."

"For real?" Evelyn smiled widely and threw her arms around Bill in glee, before pulling back to look at him. "This still doesn't mean I forgive you for almost getting yourself killed."

"I guessed as much," Bill smirked. "Would a lardy cake change that?"

"Get me one and I'll think about it."