"You're lucky it was only a ricochet." Roe said, fixing up Lt. Winters leg. "Only got a piece of it."
Winters mumbled something under his breath.
"What?" Gene asked, cleaning his hands.
"Nothing." Winters said, looking a little annoyed.
"Are you going to be able to stay off it?" Gene asked, knowing the answer.
"It doesn't look that way." Winters said, whincing at Gene cleaning the wound.
"Well you gotta try." Gene advised.
Buck walked and spoke with Winters while Gene focused on cleaning the wound, half listening.
"What's wrong with Blithe?" Winters asked after Buck left.
Gene looked back at Blithe who seemed to have a vacant stare.
"Nothin'." Gene said with a shrug. "'Cept 'e can't see."
"Can't see?" Winters asked with a look of confusion.
"So 'e says." Doc answered, dabbing the wound.
Winters got up and walked over to Blithe.
Doc cleaned his hands again and checked on others while listening to Winters talk to Blithe.
It was as if Winters was an angel. Blithe stood up, claiming to be able to see again.
Winters told him to stay with Roe.
After Winters left, Doc called Blithe over to check him over.
"How many fingers am I holding up, Albert?" Doc asked in his usual soft burr.
"Three." Blithe answered.
"Dat's right." Doc said. "Now, follow my finger."
Blithe followed the trail of Doc's index finger.
"I don't see anything physically wrong with ya, Albert. I believe what you had was a case of hysterical blindness." Doc said, lighting a cigarette and leaning back in a chair. "Your senses became overloaded and, as you put it, everything went black."
Blithe nodded. "Can I still fight?"
Doc shrugged. "I don't see why not. Just take it easy for a bit, aight?"
Blithe let out a shaky breath. "'Kay."
The company moved out a couple of hours later.
Night fell as they dug foxholes to sleep in on the outskirts of Carentan.
Gene was paired with Perconte, neither of them could sleep.
"So, I've been meaning to ask ya." Frank whispered as they sat together.
"What about?" Gene whispered back, checking his supplies before lighting a cigarette.
"Did you propose to Alice before we left?" Frank asked carefully.
Gene looked at Frank. "That's none o' your business, Perconte." He said in a low growl.
"I was just wonderin', cuz if I was you..."
"Well you're not. So drop it Per-"
"MEDIC!"
Gene jumped up and sped off.
Smith had mistaken Talbert for a German. Gene had warned Talber about wearing a German poncho earlier that day.
"What'd I say 'bout wearing this goddamn thing?" Gene grumbled as he patched up Floyd.
"I'm sorry, Doc!" Smith pleaded.
"He's gon be fine, Smith, just relax. Good job bein' on the defense." Gene burred.
"Good job?!" Floyd exclaimed. "He stabbed me, not a Gerry!"
"Cuz you was wearin' a German poncho you idiot!" Gene barked, he looked up at the other. "C'mon, help me get 'im up, let's get him back."
When Gene dropped back into his foxhole, Perconte was asleep. He pulled put his photo of Alice, kissed it, and placed it back in his pocket.
It was D-Day plus 23 when Blithe got hit. They had been mostly marching through Normandy throughout the time they had been there. Every night, Eugene would faithfully pull out his photograph of Alice and kiss it, praying a silent prayer to return to her.
Doc was fixing up Blithe when he heard Winters say the news.
"They're pulling us off the line. Off to a camp and then to England for RR. Hot food, and showers."
"Now?!" Sergent Welsh exclaimed.
"Now." Gene thought to himself, fighting the urge to smile. His heart pounded. "I'm coming back to you, Chérie." He spoke silently like a prayer.