9th February, 1945
Haguenau was a town that lay on the River Moder across the Rhine. It had a population of twenty thousand people, which was almost four times as many as Carentan. Rubble and a light sprinkling of frozen snow still yet to thaw littered the ground. The sky was grey, casting an almost melancholic light on the crumbling and bullet ridden buildings that were ravaged by war.
After two weeks in reserve travelling one hundred and sixty miles south east from Bastogne, Easy had been sent to hold the line on the south bank of the town. They were relieving the 313th Infantry of the 79th Airborne Division who were being sent elsewhere.
"What have we stopped for now?" Babe was complaining, sticking his head out of the truck to try and get a better look.
"Heffron, get your head back in here before it gets lobbed off your shoulders," Liebgott tutted as Evelyn yanked on the back of his jacket to pull him back properly into the truck.
"Well isn't anyone else fed up of spending hours sitting in this fucking truck, stopping and starting, stopping and starting," Heffron moaned.
"Not as much as we're fed up of listening to you whine about it," Evelyn muttered, blowing her nose on a piece of cloth that now served as a handkerchief.
"I swear to God I better not catch that cold from you," Liebgott grimaced at her.
"I don't have a cold," she glared at him.
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Grant chuckled opposite her.
"Just 'cause I have a bit of a runny nose, doesn't mean that I've got a cold," she was adamant. "It's probably just allergies."
"What the heck could you possibly be allergic to?" Grant didn't believe her in the slightest.
"Maybe I'm allergic to you guys," she decided, before letting out a very large sneeze. Grant smirked as though it had proved his very point. "Urgh, I hate you all."
"Hey guys," a voice interrupted.
Evelyn turned her head to look at a face she would recognise anywhere. Even after months, she couldn't forget it. With his baby blue eyes and pearly white teeth, David Webster could easily be a Hollywood movie star. He had the kind of looks that women swooned over. He had the kind of looks of someone that Evelyn always thought she would have swooned over. But one quick glance to the scowling man beside her, who was the complete opposite of Webster in both looks and personality, and she almost grinned. It was funny how things never quite go the way a person imagines them.
"Some Lieutenant told me to report to 2nd," Webster announced, looking almost disappointed by his unenthusiastic reception. "Your name's Jackson, right?"
"That's right," Jackson narrowed his eyes coldly.
"Who's leading the platoon?" Webster asked.
"Sergeant Malarkey is."
"What no officers?" Webster asked in astonishment.
"I guess you didn't hear," Liebgott piped up. "They're making Malarkey a lieutenant. He's on the fast track now."
Evelyn frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but Liebgott discreetly squeezed her knee urging her to keep silent. Opposite her, McClung and Grant were biting back grins.
"Really? That's great." Webster beamed, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being led down the garden path. "Jackson, help me up, will you?"
Reluctantly, and barely hiding his disdain, Jackson moved over and held his arm out for Webster to use to climb up on board the truck.
"So, uh, you come from the hospital?" Jackson eyed him up and down.
"Yeah," Webster nodded, sitting down as the truck lurched and began moving again.
"Must have liked that hospital," Liebgott snarled. "'Cause, uh, we left Holland four months ago."
"Well I wasn't there the whole time," Webster answered. "There was rehabilitation and the replacement depot."
"Well, I'm sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne, Web?" Liebgott sniffed.
"I don't know how I would have done that?" Webster said, with something close to a smirk.
Evelyn glanced across at Grant, who just shrugged. The animosity directed towards Webster seemed to be coming from everyone, but for some reason Evelyn felt bad on the guy. She didn't know why. She had always been the same. She didn't like to be mean to anyone, especially not someone who had trained with them in Toccoa. David Webster was the kind of man who followed the rules. In his opinion, rules were there for a reason. Whereas most of the other guys, and especially Lieb, believed that the majority of rules were made to be broken or at least bent in some way.
"That's funny because Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right, back in Holland?" He looked at Babe who nodded his agreement. "And Guarnere."
"Where is Guarnere? That brother of yours still platoon sergeant?" Webster smiled at her. "Or has he moved on to greener pastures?"
Evelyn felt his words like a punch to her chest. God knows he didn't have a clue what he was saying, but it hurt all the same. She couldn't even begin to form a reply. Liebgott rubbed her back and Babe peered into her face with concern. Thankfully the truck came to a stop once more and Evelyn jumped down without a second glance at any of them. Those who had been in Bastogne knew what had happened to Bill, so she'd never been forced to utter the words out loud before. Now that the time had come to do so, she found it was a lot harder than she ever expected it to be.
"No," Jackson gritted his teeth, as Liebgott jumped down after Evelyn. "He got hit."
"Yeah?" Webster grimaced.
"Yeah, Bill got hit," Babe scowled at him. "Blew his whole leg off."
Webster was left sitting in the truck feeling like an absolute chump (to quote one of Bill's favourite words). Across the street, he saw Liebgott put his arm around Evelyn, who looked to be trying her hardest not to cry. A few more men had gathered around her, and Liebgott must have explained what had happened because he felt a few glares coming his way. With a sigh, he jumped down from the truck. This really wasn't the welcome back he had been expecting.
When he caught up with the rest of the platoon, he was given the cold shoulder by most of them.
"Hold along this line until I figure out where we're going?" Malarkey ordered.
When an artillery shell exploded in the building in front of them, Webster dove onto the ground and covered his head while the rest of them barely blinked.
"What's the matter there, Webster? Nervous in the service?" Malarkey smirked.
"No, no, I'm fine Sarge," Webster said, getting up and looking around in almost astonishment that he was alive and well.
"Why don't you go talk to Captain Speirs? Make sure he wants you with us," Malarkey told him.
"Captain Speirs? What happened to Captain Winters?"
"He's running the whole battalion now," Malarkey answered.
"A lot of things have changed huh, Webster?" Evelyn walked over to him. She could feel Liebgott's scowl burning into her back, but she didn't care. She knew Webster hadn't meant to upset her and she certainly wasn't going to make him feel bad for it like everyone else apparently was. "I'm off to find Lipton anyway, so I'll walk over with you if you like?"
"Uh, yeah." Webster looked shocked. "Thanks Evelyn."
"No problem," she smiled sincerely.
"Ev, you not coming to check out our new digs?" Babe called out.
"Not right now Babe," she shook her head, noticing that beside him, Liebgott was shooting Webster death stares. She narrowed her eyes at Liebgott but he just gave her a little smirk.
"I'm really sorry about before Evelyn," Webster apologised as they walked along the rubble strewn street. "I had no idea about Bill."
"It's alright," she put a hand on his forearm reassuringly. "You haven't been here. You couldn't be expected to know."
"I feel like Liebgott's got a problem with me because I haven't been here for the last few months," Webster said. "In fact, so far everyone I've come across is behaving like I've done something wrong. Everyone except you that is."
"First off, Joe always has a problem with someone," she smirked. "But David, I'm gonna be frank with you now. Bastogne was hell on earth."
"Yeah, I read about it in the papers," he said sympathetically.
"Trust me, whatever the papers said about it, I can personally guarantee it was a million times worse. I don't think I can even begin to explain to you what it was like. It did something to us as a group that… Well, the things we went through have created some kind of bond. I think that some of the guys are just struggling to accept the fact that you weren't there through it with us. They see it as you being an outsider now."
"But I've been there from the beginning with you guys," Webster frowned. "I'm a Toccoa guy just like the rest of you. Well, not you, but you know what I mean?"
"I do," she gave him a lopsided grin. "Listen it's not your fault that you weren't there. If anything you're lucky you weren't. We lost so many good men. So many good Toccoa men. It's still very raw. Just give them all some time and they'll come around."
"You think?"
Evelyn nodded, but in truth she really wasn't sure.
… … …
"Look who it is," George grinned at Webster when they walked into the great big house that the officers were staying in. Big was perhaps an understatement. The place was huge, and it wasn't difficult to see that the house was once a place of luxury. The faded and peeling wallpaper, and what furniture there was still intact looked to be of expensive quality. Evelyn wondered where the family who had once lived in this place. Would they one day return to the home they must have so dearly loved? "Oh, and look what you brought with you. I wondered what the awful smell was."
Evelyn eyeballed George and pouted. But George just chuckled and kissed her cheek. With mock disdain, she scowled and wiped his kiss away, pretending to throw it on the floor.
"As if you just did that," George gasped in outrage.
"Well I didn't wanna catch cooties," she smirked and George stuck his tongue out at her before walking over to Lipton, who was sprawled on the chaise longue. George procured a blanket from somewhere and held it up like it was some kind of trophy.
"Sergeant Lipton?" Webster walked closer. "Feeling all right?"
"There you go," George tucked the blanket around Lipton like a little mother hen, before turning back to Webster. "He's got pneumonia."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"What are you sorry about?" George questioned. "He's alive, he's got a couch, a goddamn blanket. He's snug as a bug."
"Sergeant Malarkey said to check with the CO if I should be in second platoon," Webster told Lipton as George sauntered off and Evelyn perched on the end of the chaise longue by Lipton's boots.
"Have a seat Webster. We'll get you situated," Lipton motioned for him to sit down.
"How long have you been sick?" Webster asked him.
"Long enough," Lipton wheezed.
The poor man had been ill for over a week. During their time in reserve, a nasty cough had spread around the company. Most of the men had managed to get rid of it by themselves after a few days, leaving nothing more than a slightly lingering cold. But poor Carwood's had only gotten worse day by day. Being the man that he was, he refused to go to a field hospital and leave Easy, so he hadn't gotten the chance to get better. Pneumonia wasn't easy to get rid of at the best of times, but especially not on the front line where a person could rarely get a moment of rest.
"Is this the Company CP for Easy?" a voice asked.
Evelyn looked up from her satchel, where she had been rifling around for Lipton's penicillin.
"Yes Sir," Lipton nodded.
The soldier in front of them looked very young and very clean. His baby face was freshly shaven, and he stood up so straight that it was as though there was a rod in his back. When he caught sight of Evelyn, his eyes widened momentarily before he caught himself and his expression became guarded once more.
"Lieutenant Jones looking for Captain Speirs," the young soldier announced, finally tearing his gaze away from Evelyn, who had turned her attention back to her bag.
"He's on his way, Sir. Why don't you sit down? Can you get me a coffee?" he asked one of the replacements. "Would you like a coffee, Sir?"
"No thank you," the Lieutenant shook his head stiffly and sat down beside Webster. "What platoon are you in?"
"Well we're about to find that out," Webster answered.
"What about her?" the Lieutenant asked quietly. But not quiet enough to not be overheard.
"She's in second platoon."
"And she has a name, David Webster," Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him, before looking the Lieutenant straight in the eye. "Sergeant Guarnere, Sir. Medic with second platoon."
"Sergeant?" Webster muttered. Evelyn just looked up at Lipton and smirked.
"Roll up your sleeve, Lip," she told him.
"Right now?" Lipton sighed. "Can we just do this later?"
"Carwood Lipton, would you quit being a baby and just take your shot like a man?" Evelyn tutted at him, taking his arm and rolling the sleeve up for him. "Quite frankly, I'm getting a little tired of listening to you create a fuss about it every time. It's a tiny little prick."
"Yeah, and you've got one of them, so you're used to it, right Lip?" George piped up from the corner of the room.
"Can it, Luz," Lipton blushed, glancing uncomfortably in the Lieutenant's direction.
"You know I'm just kidding," George winked. While Lipton was distracted, Evelyn stabbed the needle into his arm.
"Ow," Lipton frowned at her.
"That wasn't so bad was it, brave boy," she said, pinching his cheek.
"Sergeant, would you quit manhandling your patient," Speirs' voice floated through the room as he walked towards them with more loot to add to his ever growing pile. Speirs and his sticky fingers were growing somewhat of a reputation. If it wasn't nailed down, he would take it. No, actually that was a downright lie. Basically anything he saw that he wanted, he took.
"Captain Speirs, Sir, this is Lieutenant Jones," Lipton coughed, yanking down his sleeve.
"Lipton, for Christ sakes, will you go back in the back and sack out?" Speirs completely ignored him. "There's some beds back there with fresh sheets. Evelyn, do your job and get your patient to rest, will you?"
"He won't listen to me, Sir," she answered, closing her satchel and standing up. "But by all means, if you think you can get him to listen to you then go right ahead and be my guest."
Speirs narrowed his eyes at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Evelyn gave him a sickly sweet grin, and his only reaction was to tut and roll his eyes.
"I'm just trying to make myself useful, Sir," Lipton said.
"You aint gonna be useful to anyone when you're dead," Evelyn told him. "Promise me that in between now and me coming to give your next shot that you'll try and get some rest?"
"I guess," Lipton muttered.
"That aint good enough. You gotta promise."
"Ok."
"Carwood Lipton, I need to hear you say the words."
"Fine, I promise," Lipton said.
"Well now I don't think you really mean it and you're just saying it now to make me shut up," Evelyn put her hands on her hips.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Speirs mumbled from behind them. Evelyn chose to ignore his comment.
"Ok, repeat after me. I, Carwood Lipton, do solemnly swear that I shall endeavour to get at least two hours of rest. And if I don't, then I shall face the wrath of my favourite medic- actually, my favourite human- in the whole of Easy. Or should I make that the world?"
"I'm not saying that," Lipton frowned at her.
"If you don't say it, then I'm gonna march you to that bedroom and tie you to the bed myself."
"Kinky," George wriggled his eyebrows. "Hey, uh, I think I'm coming down with something. You gonna tie me to the bed too?"
"Fuck off George," Evelyn scowled. "See what you've started now, Lipton?"
"I didn't start anything," Lipton coughed again. "You did this all by yourself."
"Oh for crying out loud, Lipton," Speirs sighed. "Would you just tell the girl what she wants to hear so that she can go? The sound of her voice is giving me a headache. I don't know how you all put up with her for so long."
"Alright alright," Lipton was cornered. "Evelyn Guarnere, I promise that I'll go and get some rest."
"And?"
"And if I don't, I'll face the wrath of my favourite person in Easy. Happy now?"
"Yep," she smiled, and then scowled at Speirs who was grinning openly at her annoyance with him. "See you guys later."
As she pushed the door, it was pulled open from the outside and she went flying out into the street.
"Wow I've never actually had a girl almost literally fall head over heels for me," Nixon smirked, grabbing her arm to steady her.
"There's a first time for everything, Nix," Winters chuckled. "Everything ok, Sergeant?"
"Oh yeah, just heading back to OP Two, Sir," she smiled, adjusting her helmet so that she could see her superiors.
"How is Lipton?" Winters enquired.
"Still full of pneumonia," she answered. "And still not listening to anything I say."
"I bet that's going down real well," Nixon grinned. His teeth looked even whiter against the backdrop of the dark black stubble on his face.
"Achoo," Evelyn sneezed, quickly putting her hand over her face as she did so.
"Oh dear," Nixon raised his eyebrows. "Remind me not to come anywhere near you until you've gotten over that cold."
"I don't have a cold."
… … …
OP two wasn't exactly first class living but it was a heck of a lot better than some of the places they'd slept in the past. Evelyn even had a little room to herself. She was kind of sad really, because she didn't want to be alone, but at the same time it would be nice to be able to undress properly and not have to sleep with the disgusting noises and smells the boys made. Especially Malarkey. He was definitely the worst of them all. After dumping her heavy rucksack onto the bed, she resisted the urge to join it and get some sleep. Instead, she knew there was probably work to do. Keeping her satchel slung across her body, she joined the boys in the other room.
"Finished sucking up to Webster, have you?" Liebgott eyeballed her.
"Sucking up to him?" she frowned. "What do you even mean by that?"
"You know exactly what I mean," he raised an eyebrow.
"For fucks sakes Joe, grow up," she sighed exasperatedly. "I had to go and see Lipton to give him his shot and Webster didn't know where he was going. It made complete and utter sense for us to go together."
"Yeah I suppose I get that," Liebgott admitted reluctantly. "But you didn't have to be all nice to the guy. Especially after what he said about Bill."
"You're being an idiot. It was obvious that he didn't mean to upset me by asking where Bill was," she put her hands on her hips.
"Then why did you run off the truck and cry?"
"Because even though I know he didn't mean it, I was still allowed to be upset. Doesn't mean I've gotta be mean to him like the rest of you."
"How can you not be even a little bit annoyed at him?" Liebgott exclaimed. "The man spent four months in a hospital, getting his every need attended to by nurses and not having to spend the winter in the freezing cold, getting shelled every five minutes."
"If you don't stop arguing with me, you're gonna find yourself spending some time in that hospital."
"So you're taking his side over mine?"
"Oh my god, Joe," Evelyn groaned. "Nobody is taking sides about anything. I aint even arguing with you. I'm just letting you know that my opinion's different from yours. We don't gotta agree all the time, you know. And if you can't deal with that, then it's your problem not mine."
"Fine," Liebgott muttered, crossing his arms and pouting.
"Don't be such a baby," Evelyn rolled her eyes at him, poking him in the chest. His scowl remained, making her chuckle. She stepped closer to him and held out her hands into claw-like shapes, giving him a devilish grin. "If you aint gonna smile by yourself, then I can make you."
Quick as lightning, she darted forward and dug her fingers into his sides making him yelp.
"Keep those fucking hands away," he laughed, grabbing her hands in his own and pulling her closer so that their bodies were touching.
"Make me," she challenged and Liebgott smirked.
"Urgh get a room," McClung tutted.
"Give it a rest you two," Malarkey commented from the other side of the room, although he was smiling at them both. "No reason why us miserable souls should have to suffer watching you two be so happy."
"Sorry," Evelyn apologised, yanking her hands out of Liebgott's. "By the way Malark. Did I tell you yet how much I love your hat?"
"Fuck off," Malarkey gave her the middle finger and grinned.
Liebgott sauntered off to the windowsill with McClung, Jackson and Grant to make a drink when Lieutenant Jones and Webster walked through the door, and Evelyn sat herself down beside Babe on one of the bottom bunks.
"Hey guys, this taken?" Webster asked, flinging his bag onto an empty top bunk.
"Go ahead," Ramirez answered.
"Sergeant," he addressed Malarkey. "This is Lieutenant Jones. Just assigned to second platoon."
"Malarkey. Platoon sergeant," Don bobbed his head in greeting before continuing to fiddle about with the buttons on the radio.
Lieutenant Jones took off his helmet and smoothed his hair, a mannerism that wasn't lost on those watching him. It was just another thing that made him stand out as someone new and unused to the situation he found himself in.
"Congratulations on the battlefield commission."
"What?" Malarkey frowned as Liebgott and Grant snorted before turning their faces away. Next to Evelyn, Babe snickered and was rewarded with a sharp dig in the ribs.
"They're making you an officer, no?"
Malarkey turned his head to look at the others and somehow managed to keep the expression on his face neutral despite wanting to laugh. "Me, no? You must be thinking of first sergeant Lipton."
"My mistake," Jones said as he and Webster looked at one another in confusion. "So you're without a platoon leader?"
"Well not any more Lieutenant."
"Right," Jones nodded. "So do you want to introduce me to the men?"
"Well," Malarkey sighed, annoyed at being disturbed again. "Some are sleeping downstairs and the rest are right here."
Jones glanced around at the men, none of whom looked too enthusiastic to see their new platoon leader, and when his gaze fell on Evelyn he nodded. She smiled warmly. Maybe she was just too soft for her own good, but she remembered how nervous she had been to join Easy and she had been lucky enough to have her brother with her. She didn't want to think she had ever had a part in making someone else feel unwelcome or uncomfortable when they were already probably rather daunted.
"Sergeant, a patrol's being planned for tonight. Zero one hundred hours. Across the river," Jones spoke quietly once he was facing Malarkey again. Despite his lowered tones, they all heard what was being said and the sudden feeling of angst in the room was palpable. "Regiment wants POWs for interrogation."
"Hey Web," Liebgott called out to Webster who was standing by the window, minding his own business.
"What?"
"Come here," Liebgott motioned with his head. "I wanna talk to you a second."
"Why?" Webster narrowed his eyes, wary of Liebgott's motives.
"You want some coffee?" Liebgott held his cup up and manoeuvred Webster over towards the bunks.
"No," Webster shook his head.
"Fifteen."
"Fifteen what?" Jackson asked.
"Looey's since D-Day," Liebgott explained, glancing over at Lieutenant Jones. "This kid even outta high school yet?"
"He's out of West Point," Webster said.
"West Point? Isn't that where Ike went?" Jackson asked.
"Yeah. He actually graduated with his son."
"So, um, what do you know about this patrol thing?" Liebgott asked.
"Uh, nothing," Webster lied, giving an actor-worthy performance.
"Oh come on, Web. You gotta know something," Ramirez didn't buy it for one minute.
"I don't," Webster denied.
"Bullshit," Liebgott spat on the floor. Evelyn kicked him in the back of the leg to reprimand him but he ignored her. "You were there right? At the CP? This is a prisoner snatch, right?"
"Hey Chuck, listen to this."
"Come on, Webster. Spill it."
"Captain Speirs is to pick fifteen men," Webster answered reluctantly. "Lieutenant Jones wants to be one of them."
"I say let the kid go," Liebgott smirked. "He could use the experience."
"Probably could find fourteen replacements to help him out," Ramirez chipped in, much to the amusement of everyone else.
"Why you holding out on me?" Liebgott was getting more irate. "I know you know."
"Just give us the names, Web," Ramirez said.
"There are three men here in this room that they think should be on the patrol."
"Who?"
"Well if I tell you, you can't let on that you know," Webster was finally worn down. Evelyn felt bad for him because she knew he was about to break his own moral code.
"Your secret's safe, Web," Liebgott rolled his eyes at him impatiently. "Who is it?"
"Heffron."
"Oh shit," Heffron put his head in his hands.
"McClung," Webster continued, feeling guilty at being the bearer of bad news. "And you."
When his gaze fixed on Ramirez, he was awarded with a groan.
"He want any guys from any other platoon?" Liebgott asked, staring into his cup as though he was going to find the answer buried in there somewhere.
"No, no," Webster shook his head. "I don't know. Not that I know of. Look, that's all I know, I'm sorry."
"Listen up!" Malarkey shouted. "Got some bad news. There's a patrol set for tonight. So far Speirs wants McClung-"
"-We know," McClung cut him off.
"Yeah we just fuckin' heard," Babe grimaced.
"Webster here told us," Ramirez added.
Webster turned away, his jaw clenched in annoyance as Malarkey went to answer the ringing telephone.
"Easy White. Yep. Okay. All right. Out," he wound the telephone handle up. "The PX rations just came in, including winter shoe packs."
"Beautiful," Liebgott rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, finally right?" Malarkey smirked.
"Now we're in a nice warm house."
"Also, we got showers."
Before they could process that exciting bit of news, the whistle of a mortar sounded in the air, coming ever closer. They bolted it out of the room and down the rickety wooden stairs into the cellar as fast as lightning. Grant yanked Evelyn under the nearest table with him. When the mortar shell didn't hit their abode, nor anywhere close, the relief was immense. They all began laughing like hyenas. Under the next table, Webster looked confused and slightly concerned for their mental wellbeing. Had he been at Bastogne where they had only a hole in the ground for cover, he would have understood.
… … …
The excitement was real. Showers. They were finally getting showers. Evelyn didn't care if they were hot showers, warm showers or even ice cold showers. Just the novelty of having running water against her skin and a fresh uniform was too much to handle. Malarkey had already informed her that Winters had ordered a separate unit to be set up within the shower block for her, so that she would be obstructed from the view of everyone else. That excited her even more. She had been fully prepared to just have to shower in her underwear.
"All right, I'm leading this patrol," Malarkey announced, as they stood gathered around outside the showers. "CO wants Grant, Liebgott, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty from third platoon and Webster."
"They want anyone from first?" Cobb asked.
"No."
"Is there anyone they don't want from second?" Liebgott muttered.
"That list sounds like everybody to me."
"It's always second platoon," Liebgott snarled as Malarkey walked away. "I swear to God, if we were down to three guys, they'd still want us for it."
"I can't believe they're gonna make Malarkey lead it," Grant shook his head at the injustice of it.
"Christ, he only lost his five best friends," Babe was of the same sentiment. "What the fuck's he got to live for?"
They all felt that it was wrong. Malarkey was still no longer the same happy go lucky guy he had been before Bastogne. His skin was sallow and when he smiled it never reached his eyes any more. He needed a break. A long break. Being told he was leading the patrol was liking kicking him while he was already down. It was cruel.
"Has it been a long time since your last shower, professor?" Cobb suddenly leered at Webster.
"Fuck off, Roy," Evelyn stuck up for him.
"I don't know why you're acting so high and mighty," Cobb sneered. "Says a fucking lot about you when you've got no qualms about stripping off in front everyone, huh?"
"Cut it out Cobb," Heffron glowered at him, stepping in between him and Evelyn. She glanced to the side and could see Liebgott looking like he was ready to pull Roy's head off. Grant had hold of him though and Evelyn nodded her thanks to him. Chuck smiled. Evelyn could hold her own. Especially against Cobb. She was a Guarnere for crying out loud.
"Oh look, here comes Heffron to save the day," Cobb chuckled. "What? Does she spread her legs for you too?"
Lieutenant Jones looked on and was sure that he should intervene, but he wasn't quite sure what to say or do. And the look in the young medic's eyes was kind of frightening.
"Shut your fucking face," Evelyn snarled, poking him in the chest. "You're a fucking disgrace, Roy. And you wanna know what's got you so sour? It's the fact that even if you were the last man on this fucking earth I wouldn't let you anywhere near me. Go to fucking hell."
The guys were stunned as Evelyn stormed off into the showers, yanking her boots off outside the tent door. Grant let out a low whistle and Liebgott grinned. He couldn't have been prouder. Sure, he still wanted to murder Cobb but watching him be put in his place by a girl who barely came up to his shoulder was one of the best things he'd seen in a long while. And that girl was his.
"Damn, she's so like her brother sometimes it's scary," Heffron chortled as Cobb scuttled off in embarrassment.
"Tell me about it," Grant agreed.
Ripping her clothes off angrily, Evelyn sighed when the hot water ran down her skin. Somebody had been kind enough to leave some soap in her little area, and she smiled when saw it. She washed her hair three times to try and get the grime out of it. No matter how hard she scrubbed though, the blood stains on her hands were ingrained into her skin. As she stood under the shower head, she let the water wash away all of the emotions from the last month.
"You alright in there?" Malarkey called out. When she didn't answer he called out again, his tone laced with a hint of worry. "Ev?"
"Yeah sorry," she answered finally.
"Good. For a minute I was worried you'd gone down the plughole," she could Malarkey's smile in his voice. "I've got a clean uniform here for you. I'll just hang it up here."
Carefully, a fresh set of OD's were slung over the tarp that made up her little shower cubicle.
"Also, they were fresh out of ladies garments so you're stuck with these," he said, adding a vest and some skivvies to the pile. "Sorry."
"They're clean," Evelyn chuckled. "Trust me, that's all I care about."
"Alright, well I'm heading back now but a few of the others are still out here. At least one of them will stay until you're done."
"Thanks Malark."
… … …
It was early in the afternoon and Evelyn was cleaning the aid station. Eugene had gone to check on Perconte. He had arrived back from the field hospital a few hours ago and Eugene had taken one for the time and decided he would take a look at Frank's rear end to make sure it was healing as it should be. Spina had made some excuse about needing the toilet over half an hour ago. As he had still yet to return, Evelyn had a suspicion that he had conveniently disappeared in order to avoid cleaning. She never thought she would be the sort to admit such a thing, but she had actually come to rather like cleaning. She might even go as far as to say she enjoyed it. Sure, when she lived at home and her mom would ask her to help around the house, she would drag her feet and moan. But the truth was that there was something ridiculously satisfying about admiring how beautiful everything looked once it had been cleaned thoroughly. Looking around with a grimace, she wished that there was something she could do about the peeling wallpaper and the dirty walls. She shrugged. Oh well, at least the medical supplies were shiny and ship shape. There was a knock at the open door and she looked up.
"Hey Babe, what can I do for you?" she smiled.
"I need an aspirin," he answered, looking around sheepishly.
"Oh right, ok," she said, rifling around in her satchel for the small glass bottle of pills. "You feeling alright? You aint coming down with a cold like everyone else, are you?"
"No," he shook his head. "Look, can you just hurry up and give me the aspirin, I gotta go."
It was only then that Evelyn noticed he was holding one of his arms slightly funny.
"What have you done?" she asked, taking hold of the arm gently.
"Nothing," Babe answered, turning away from her.
"Edward Heffron, let me see now otherwise I will sneeze in your direction and pass my cold onto you."
"I thought you said you didn't have a cold."
"Yeah, well just call me Pinocchio from now on. And if you tell anyone I admitted to having a cold I'll deny it and then kill you in your sleep," she raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I can see that threat obviously isn't doing anything, so I can always call in the big guns if you'd prefer."
"You mean you'll tell on me to Eugene?"
"That's exactly what I'll do," she smirked.
Babe weighed his options up momentarily before reluctantly, letting her take hold of his arm. "You really are the lesser of two evils," he grumbled.
"What the hell have you done?" she asked with a frown. His hand was tensed up in a claw-like shape and his fingers were stiff. She tried to move them but Babe hissed and she stopped immediately.
"It's nothing," Babe shrugged. "It just happens sometimes."
"It's happened before?"
"Yeah a few times."
"Well when did it first happen?" Evelyn was beginning to get annoyed because Babe wasn't really giving much away.
"I can't remember exactly. I was about sixteen and-"
"-Sixteen!" Evelyn exclaimed. "This has been going on for almost six years? Why the hell haven't you mentioned it before now? Do you enjoy being in pain or something? Or do you just enjoy looking like some kind of half man, half lobster creature?"
"You're being ridiculous," Babe snapped in a manner that was very out of character for him.
"I'm being ridiculous?" Evelyn asked incredulously. "I'm not the one who's been walking around with a claw for a hand for nearly six years!"
"Do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?" Babe sighed. "Listen, are you gonna get me an aspirin or what?"
"Alright, keep your knickers on," Evelyn tutted, handing him the pill. "Seriously though Babe, you need to see a doctor about this."
"I don't need to do anything," Babe argued.
"Well I'm telling you otherwise," she put her hands on her hips. "This could be something serious. You can't just leave it. What if it gets worse?"
"It'll be fine," Babe sighed.
"And you know that how? Are you a doctor now? What if it happens in the middle of a fight? What if it seizes up when you're trying to shoot someone and you can't and then they shoot? What if-"
"-Will you give it a rest already? That's exactly fucking why I can't see a doctor!" Babe yelled. He stopped and calmed down, sighing quietly. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling. It's just that the thought of anyone finding out terrifies me. When my brothers signed up for the army when the war broke out, I knew that I wasn't gonna get left behind. So I had no choice but to lie."
"But what about your doctor's records from back home? How did you manage to hide those?"
"Easily. I never went to the doctor about it. In high school, I was on the football team and I was doing really well. If I went to the doctor about my hand, they would have kicked me off the team. So I just never told anyone."
"I didn't think," she said, understanding why he was being so touchy about the subject. "Sorry for being such a bitch."
"It's fine," Babe smiled as he swallowed the tablet with a sip of water from his canteen. "Just promise me that you won't mention it to anyone?"
"I promise." she smiled back. And then frowned again. "But how are you planning on going on patrol tonight with that?"
"It'll be gone soon. I just usually take an aspirin for the pain and then massage it a little then it goes back to normal," he explained.
"Sit down then and I'll do it," she ordered, nodding to the empty bed beside her.
"You don't need to," Babe argued. "I'm perfectly capable of-"
"-Sit," she repeated more firmly.
Babe did as he was told and Evelyn pulled up a chair so that she was sat in front of him. She took his hand and gently began to massage one finger at a time. It took over ten minutes before they started to relax slightly, and a further ten minutes before Babe could begin to move them without pain. While she massaged, they talked about Bill, which then led to a discussion about home and their families. They talked about all of the things they missed about Philly and what they were going to do when they returned. Babe was surprised, and rather disgusted, to discover that Evelyn had never been to a Phillies game.
"That goes against everything it is to be from Philly," he tutted at her. "How have I only just learnt this about you? I can't believe Bill would let you get away with something like this. I feel like you should be walking around with a sign on your head that let's everyone know what a disgrace to the city you are."
"What can I say?" she chuckled. "It's never really interested me. It's just a load of guys hitting a ball with the wooden stick and then running."
"Blasphemy," Babe shook his head in disgust. "And how can you say that if you've never even been? Honestly, even if you don't like the game, there's something to be said for just being there with hundreds of other people. The atmosphere is indescribable. You gotta promise to let me take you to a game when we get back home."
"I'd rather watch paint dry," she rolled her eyes.
"Well we can do that too," Babe snorted. "But if you get your fun then I want mine."
"Fine," she agreed. "One game. But I'm only going if you promise to buy me a hot dog."
"I'll buy you ten," he smiled, clenching and unclenching his hand. "I think I'm good to go now. I don't wanna be late for the briefing anyway. You, uh, won't mention this to anyone will you? Not even Gene?"
"Of course not," she reassured him. "I won't tell a soul."
"Thanks Ev."
"It's no problem," she smiled, standing up and walking Babe to the door. "Be careful tonight Babe."
"I'm always careful," he said.
"I know that. I just mean because of your hand."
"Don't worry about me," he reassured her. "We'll all be fine."
… … …
For some reason, Babe's words played over and over in her mind all evening and on into the night. There was just a feeling in her stomach that she couldn't shake. The men that were taking part in the patrol had been sequestered from everyone else to have their briefing and to prepare themselves for the actual event. Given that all of second platoon were involved, Evelyn found the quietness of her little bedroom to be somewhat eerie, knowing that the boys weren't just on the other side of the wall. Captain Speirs had ordered all of the medics to stay in their designated sleeping quarters on the miniscule chance that they were needed. She had debated ignoring that command and going to find Eugene or Spina, but Speirs was in such a foul mood about Lieutenant Jones being allowed to go on the patrol that she didn't want to risk facing his wrath.
She pulled out some paper and began penning a letter to her parents, to Bill, to Toye. Basically to anyone in the hopes that it would take her mind off of what was happening down by the river. But the words just wouldn't come and feeling irritated she threw the pen down on the bed, huffing when ink splodges splattered all over her blanket. She walked to the window, hoping she might see something to put her mind at rest but her view was blocked by the building in front. Sighing, she threw herself onto the bed and closed her eyes. Even if she couldn't sleep, she was going to try and rest. Who knew when she would get the chance again.
She was just starting to nod off when she heard the noise of whistles being blown in the distance and shells exploding. She sat up with a start, wishing she had a crystal ball to see just what was going on. She picked nervously at the skin around her fingernails, hoping that everything was going to plan. It wasn't more than four or five minutes later that she just about heard the shouts for a medic over the artillery blasts. Running for the door and flinging her satchel over her body, she yanked the door knob and the entire thing came off in her hand. She stared at the brass ball in her hands in shock and the horrible realisation dawned upon her that she was stuck in her second floor bedroom alone. With a growl she kicked the solid oak door with her boots but it didn't even budge. Well if German bombs can't break it, there's no way you can, you idiot.There was only one other thing for it. She was going to have to try and climb out of the window. Luckily the window opened without any issues but she gulped when she saw how far up from the ground she was. Hesitantly, she swung a leg out over the window frame. She took a deep breath and was about to swing the other leg out when a voice called out.
"What on earth are you doing up there?" Talbert asked.
She peered down, trying to ignore the queasiness in her stomach, and gave a wobbly smile to him and Randleman who were staring at her as though she had lost her mind.
"Seeing if I can fly," she replied sarcastically. "I'm trying to get out of here, what does it look like?"
"Why don't you just use the door like a normal human being?" Talbert frowned.
"Oh gee, I didn't think of that," she tutted. "The door knob broke off in my hand and I got locked in my room. I heard someone calling for a medic so I'm trying to get to whoever it is but I'm not doing too well."
Randleman chuckled and Talbert shook his head in exasperation.
"Come on then, let's help you down," Randleman said.
"Or one of you could just come up here and open the door from the outside for me?" she suggested.
"Where's the fun in that?" Talbert sniggered. "Just jump down and Bull can catch you."
"You're crazy," Evelyn let out a dry laugh, but her mirth was short lived when Bull held out his arms. "You're being serious?"
"Sure am," Bull smiled, cigar dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Medic!"
"Oh what the heck," Evelyn muttered, crossing herself before shutting her eyes and jumping. As the breeze brushed against her skin on her descent, she was convinced she was most probably falling to her death. The relief when she felt Bull's strong arms catch her was indescribable. She opened her eyes and grinned as he set her on her feet. "Thanks Bull."
Talbert and Randleman watched her small figure disappear into the night before chuckling to one another and carrying on to their own quarters.
By the time Evelyn reached the dank, dark basement where the men from the patrol had gathered, the noise had quietened. The second she set foot in the building, the atmosphere assaulted her nose and she looked down at the blanket covered body on the floor.
"Jackson," was all Roe said quietly, writing in the book he used to keep track of the wounded and killed.
Another young life taken from the world too early. Another mother left to grieve for her son. Eugene Jackson had paid the ultimate price for his country, and he was one of many more still to come.
