Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s mid-day when we finally make it to the meet up point. By now my feet have gone numb from the amount of walking we've been subjected to; I can already feel the blisters started to peel at my heels. If we find a minute to be rest I'll be forever grateful. 

A cool gust of wind blows against my cheeks. After hours of stick hot weather, the humidity had finally gone down and now gray clouds were rolling overhead. The mud was still all over my pants and jump boots. I don't think I'm ever getting it out at this point. 

As we’re walking in I see to the left this group of German POWS. They’re just sitting there, staring at the ground as they pick at the dirt underneath their fingernails. These are the guys we’ve spent years training to fight? What a joke. 

“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya fellas, enjoying the war?” Malarkey wisecracks.

I huffed and rolled my eyes, fighting a grin as I caught up with Hall.

This place was crawling with paratroopers, surely the guys are around here somewhere. 

Up ahead there was a trail of blood that seemed to follow us everwhere we went. I had to peel my eyes away from the stack of dead horses piled in the middle of the street. It didn't make it any less real. A sour smell of death and rot filled my nose, and it felt like there was nowhere I could go to escape it. Screams could be heard from the aid station they were putting up. I turned and caught sight of the nurses rushing men in back and forth. Despite all the effort gone into planning out D-Day, everything was still so chaotic and uncertain. 

When I raised my head and looked up at the trees, I could see the leaves blowing in the wind.

This might just be the longest day of my life. 

Later, in the process of getting to battalion headquarters, we found more Easy Company guys. They’re just sitting up on some hill when we come in.

Oh for fucks sake!

“Oh, Easy Company!”  One of them says with a big grin. He’s got black hair and is far skinnier than any other member of his company. Shit, I think even Lydia outweighs him.

I couldn't help but scowl at the sight of them greeting each other and shaking hands. 

Popeye shakes the skinny man’s hand, introducing him to both me and Hall as Liebgott. He gestures towards us and grins. "This here's Hall and Monroe, Able Company," He introduces. I ignored him as he told us the names of the other men, because suddenly Bill opens up his big mouth and buts in. “Also known as Cowboy and Hoot,” He adds snarkily. 

I clenched the grip I had on my musette bag and rolled my eyes. 

“You from Texas?” Liebgott asks Hall with an arched eyebrow. 

“Manhattan,” He answers casually. 

Liebgott then turned towards me and looked even more bewildered by my unofficial stupid nickname. “Hoot? What the hell’s that?” He asked, huffing in amusement while turning to the others. Just as Guarnere opened his mouth to tell the story, I snagged Hall by the arm and dragged him away.  

“You think Able’s here yet?” I snapped, exhaling deeply to expel my frustrations. 

In response he shrugs and nudges me- he’s always fucking do that.

“I dunno, maybe? There’s gotta be some guys from the first battalion around here. We can check later though, first you should get your forehead and arm looked at. I was looking at it and I mean I’m no medic, but it didn’t look too good,” He says, his dark eyebrows knitting in concern. I rolled my eyes and huffed. “I’m fine-,” I began.

Popping up out of the shadows like a fucking ghost, Lydia appears looking as annoyed with me as usual.

“Monroe, I don’t have all day. Let’s get this done fast, yeah?” She mutters.

I frowned, glaring at Hall for summoning her. He just shrugs and follows her as she makes her way over towards the mock aid station they’d put him earlier. 

Reluctantly I followed and sat down on the empty cot she guided us to. The inside of this place made my stomach twist. Bloodcurdling screams sounded from men who were rushed in with missing limbs and other bloody injuries. Nurses were scrambling all over the place, using as much as they could with the supplies they had on them. From what I could tell it didn't look like they had much anyway. 

I don’t know how Lydia can stand this shit. Her expression was neutral from the moment we walked in. Nothing seemed to touch her; not even the screams and smells. It was like she just moved around it, continuing forward like the cold-blooded woman she is. As she's leaning over me and cleaning up the gash on my head, I had to force myself not to let out any further noises of discomfort. It was embarssing. Here I was being a pussy and complaining about a couple of stitches, meanwhile some men were missing their legs. 

“When you’ve found your company, let your medic know. He’ll need to take out the stitches within a three to five day timespan,” The lieutenant orders, grumbling as she closes off the thread.

“Got it, thanks,” I huffed back. She was talking to me like I was an idiot. I was planning on seeing the Doc anyway. 

She starts cleaning up some of the scratches, but she's pressing right on it with her thumb and it fucking hurts so I jerk backwards. She snatches me by the chin and pulls me back, glaring down at me in frustration. "Quit pulling away from me, you're only making this take longer," She snaps. I considered snapping back at her, but instead decided to save my breath and hold my tongue. 

When it looked like she was done, I was about to get the hell out of there when Hall, the bastard, shoves me back down. “Lieutenant, Dylan’s arm might need to be looked at too. Earlier after we got him out of the tree it had been bleeding a lot. I don't know, it looked like it needed stitches," He tells her. My jaw clenched as I shot a glare his way.

As soon as I get out of here I'm killing him. So what if it needed to be looked at? I'd rather do it myself than have her bitch at me the whole time. 

Lydia glances at him, and turns back towards me with an unamused expression on her face. She snatches my arm and rolls up the sleeve. I watch as her frown deeps when she spots the bloody bandages from earlier. Her eyes meet mine and she looks more pissed than I’ve seen her in months. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?” She asks, her voice shaking with anger.

“I dunno, there wasn’t any time and you didn’t see it when you checked the first time,” I answered, muttering under my breath. I rolled down the tattered sleeve, but she yanked it right back up. Her face tightens, but she doesn’t say anything yet. Instead she unravels the bandages, hissing at the size of it before cleaning it up.

“You should’ve told me, you’re lucky this isn’t deep enough to have nicked your artery,” She grits out, picking up her needle and thread.

“Well it didn’t hit the artery, Lieutenant. If it had, I would’ve bled out in the tree,” I retorted.

Lydia doesn’t say anything else after that and instead focuses on her stitching. Her movements were quick and direct, her hands stable as she worked with ease. She’s done this so many times it must feel like second nature at this point. “Whoever bandaged your arm did a good job at keeping it compact. Hall, was this you?” She asks after a while, glancing up at him.

I frowned and watched him grin proudly. “No, ma’am, Dylan did it himself,” He answers.

 Just as I thought she doesn’t respond, instead only nodding and pressing her lips tightly together. She assumed he had done ‘em, that’s the only reason she muttered out praise. When she yelled at me one day during the first aid lessons, I started practicing on my own. I practiced so hard in hopes that I could prove her wrong and change how she saw me. That was just wishful thinking. She’s never gonna admit that I’ve earned my right to be here. 

When she finished the stitches I didn’t waste any time getting up. I snatched up my M-1 and gathered my things as fast as I could. I didn’t want to spend another second here.

“Done, get up we need to use this bed,” Lydia orders.

“Has Abel Company grouped up yet?” She turns to Hall. “No, ma’am, or- we haven’t checked yet,” He replies. Lydia’s expression tightens as she releases a sigh. “Wonderful,” She mutters sarcastically. “Well if you don’t find them I guess you’ll be staying with Easy until you do.” 

I frowned and threw on my musette bag with the medical bag she had given me still inside it. “Do you have the authority to decide that?” I asked her. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, but luckily she doesn’t dignify my question with a response. Instead she just snaps around and gets to work on some soldier with a missing arm. I just scoffed and left without saying another word. 

Hall followed me out of the tent, and we immediately began our search for Able.

There were so many men wandering around and still there was no real way to tell who was with who. There weren’t any signs posted up with our company’s name on it, so asking around was all we could. The only responses I got were, “Nah, haven’t seen ‘em” or “Try asking this guy who apparently saw another guy who saw them around.” It was all bullshit. 

This continued for twenty minutes until I gave up and flopped down on a small mound of grass.

“I guess the lieutenant’s right, looks like we're sticking around with Easy for the time being,” Hall sighs, sitting down beside me.

I scowled and wrestled my canteen out of my pack. “Who does she think she’s fooling? She's fucking out of her mind I'll tell you that. She wrapped Toye's arm earlier and didn't insult him for doing whateever the hell he did to. Though as soon as she sees mine it's suddenly some big problem. She thought my bandaging was you, you saw her right? As soon as she found out it was me who did it she looked all pissed again. What a load of crap," I ranted, breathing heavily. "A-And for some reason Gonorrhea's seen her drink? She doesn't drink, she never drinks! Whenever she talks to them she's so nice and calm and it's sickening, it's really fucking sickening! Christ she didn't even greet me after the jump."

“Who?” Hall asks unhelpfully before reaching for my canteen instead of his own. 

“Lieutenant Sterling! Lydia Sterling! The coldest bitch in the 506th!” I snapped. 

He hums thoughtfully after listening to my angry muttering. “I don’t know, man, maybe it’s because they’re in her own company? Me and you are a lot closer and I’ve seen you drink before when she probably hasn’t. Does it matter that Guarnere's seen her drink before? I didn't greet you when we got you down from that tree and you weren't all riled up over it," He replied calmly. 

“That’s different, she’s- never mind,” I huffed, my voice trailing off as I realized what I was gonna say. “What’s so good about Easy Company anyway, huh? They do the same shit we do and we don’t get praise or fucking newpaper articles for it,” I muttered, taking back my canteen and stuffing it back inside my pack. 

 To my annoyance, Hall huffs in amusement. He leans back against the grass and looks up at the grey sky. “You really don’t like them, huh,” He replies idly.

“No shit,” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s your problem with them?” He asked curiously.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the grass, the sky doing nothing to ease my mood. What a stupid question. What’s there not to have a problem with? They’re all a bunch of assholes, especially Bill Guarnere and Lydia Sterling. 

As I’m telling him about Albourne and how I didn’t need their help, the son of a bitch laughs at me. He muffles his laughter and nearly chokes on more water he stole from my canteen.

“So that’s why he called you Hoot earlier?” Hall cackles. I rolled my eyes and punched him in the arm. “Yeah, that’s why. I told him I didn’t need their help and the asshole called me “a real hoot”. I mean seriously? Who even says that? Christ, that’s something my fucking dad would’ve said,” I scowled. 

“So they helped you? Shouldn’t that be a good reason to like them?” He asked me. I turned away from him now that he was starting to piss me off. “It’s more complicated than that. They’re just-.. They’re just assholes, I don’t know,” I huffed. “I mean sure Guarnere’s an asshole, but you needed help from both me and Lieutenant Winters earlier and you weren’t mad about it,” Hall adds unhelpfully. 

“That’s different,” I protested. “It doesn’t sound like it,” He shoots back. 

“Yes it is- for fucks sake, I’m trying to complain to you and you’re not listening to me!” I complained. He chuckles and pats me on the shoulder; I shoved him right back. “I’m listening, I’m just trying to understand why you’re complaining. What makes Easy Company so bad that you can’t stand them?” He replies.

I scowled and directed my gaze towards the ground. “Look, I don’t know, alright?” I finally admitted through a clenched jaw. “There’s just something that irks me about ‘em. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like they’re always trying to prove that they’re better than everybody else, trying to help people who don't need it and play hero,” I added afterwards. 

 “I mean objectively they are better than the other companies,” Hall adds. “Whatever!” I snapped.

The stitches in my right arm twinge when I wrap my arms around my shoulders. “I don’t know… or I do but, I just can’t describe it. Fuck, I don’t even know why I joined the paratroopers. I was thinking about it earlier on the plane and I couldn’t think of a reason,” I muttered, picking at the dirt on my sleeves. 

Hall exhales, offering me a gentle grin as he scoots closer towards me. After I started talking to him back in Toccoa, he asked me why I joined the paratroopers. I told him I joined for the pay just like everybody else and he gave me a weird look. Maybe he knew something I didn't, but he didn't say it. I'm not sure he even remembers any of that now. 

 “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” He replies. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean you could’ve dropped out all those years ago but you didn’t. You stuck it out even with Lieutenant Sterling yelling at you all the time. Hell, you even got promoted to private first class. I think you do know why you joined, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it,” He then adds, nudging my shoulder. 

I turned to face him and felt whatever was weighing down on my chest lighten. He's not much older than me, but for some odd reason he sure does talk a lot of sense. Apart from Lydia he's the only other person who knows I'm eighteen. Christ, why did I ignore him for so long? We could’ve been pals a lot longer had I just got my head out of my ass and paid attention to what was there the whole time. 

I think.. I think out of everyone in Able Company that I'm glad I got stuck here with him. 

“Yeah,” I responded after a while. “Maybe you’re onto something.”

“Of course I am. Come on, let’s go look around for the fellas again,” He grins before rising to his feet.

Now that sounded like a plan. I took the hand he offered me and followed as we started our search once again. 

After another unknown amount of time and talking to every guy we came across, we found this guy from Baker Company who mentioned seeing one of the guys from my stick. He didn't tell us where he went or if he was still around, but it was still promising enough to raise our spirits. If more guys from first battalion were here, then it was possible Able was closer than we thought. 

We eventually come across this farm house off to the side. I planned to walk past it and ignore it completely, but Hall abruptly stops, bumping into me. I turned to see what he was looking at and frowned when I caught sight of Easy Company surrounding Lieutenant Winters and a map. As I opened my mouth to speak, he suddenly reaches out and snags me by the collar before marching over towards them. 

"Hey-," I hissed. He shushes me and stops pulling when we get close enough to take a look at the map.

“There are two guns that we know of firing onto Utah beach, we can plan on a third and a fourth- here and here. The Germans are in the trenches with access to the entire battery with a machine gun covering their rear. We’ll establish a base of fire and move under it hard and fast with two squads of three,” Winters states, marking his plan on a white sheet of paper. 

Shitty idea to send a company with half of their guys still unaccounted for on a mission like that, but the lieutenant sounded confident. Not my problem then. 

I turned to look at Hall and found him staring at Winters with a sparkle in his eyes. 

Oh for fucks sake. Nuh-uh, absolutely not. 

Winters reveals that the number of krauts is unknown and that they’re taking along some TNT to get rid of the guns. He directs the responsibility onto Sergeant Lipton, and then drafts the men he wants onto the machine gun. “Who does that leave?” He asks. I nearly slapped Hall in the back of the head for raising his hand and looking disappointed at not being chosen to lead the main assault. 

As they’re moving out, Toye spots Hall and frowns. “Shouldn’t you both be outside with the other Abel Company guys?” He asks.

I seethed and wrenched Hall’s hand off my uniform. “Sure are, if you find ‘em let us know, cause we’ll gladly head their way,” I snapped, only receiving a few laughs in response. 

“See you around, Hall,” Guarnere smirks. “Hoot,” He adds, looking at me. 

That son of a bitch! 

They luckily didn’t stick around for very long; leaving shortly after we made it back outside. I continued the search practically all on my own, because Hall was more distracted with Easy Company’s mission at Brecourt. It didn't last that long, because we soon found out from some guy in Charlie Company that Able Company hasn't been seen yet. 

We regrouped back over by the grass mound and sat down to collect our bearings. I slumped against the dirt, Hall laying beside me while picking at the grass. His eyes were elsewhere while I continued thinking up a plan. This was just awful. Why couldn’t anybody just tell us where Able was? Fuck, I wish it were as simple as that. Across all companies there were men lost and unaccounted for. It’s possible they’ve regrouped elsewhere and were perfectly fine, but the unknown didn’t make me feel any better. 

“That Charlie guy’s gotta be full of shit. Ain’t no way nobody from Able’s popped up yet. I don’t buy it, our dropzones were off target but they weren’t that off,” I scoffed.

When I turned back around to face Hall, I found him staring up at the clouds- that asshole wasn't even paying attention to me! I punched him in the arm, causing him to jump and yelp in pain. 

“What was that for?” He whines. I rolled my eyes and stared at him in annoyance. “Whatever you’re thinking about, cut it out, alright? It ain’t our job, so quit worrying about it,” I told him. He sighs, looking so dejected but not for the right reasons. “I don’t know, man, I just think-... you’re right, nevermind,” He mutters. 

That’s more like it. 

We sat there in silence as I continued thinking up ideas that'll get us back to Able, when eventually another thought came to me. I turned towards Hall and raised an eyebrow. 

 “Hey, you never told me why you joined the paratroopers. Why’d you join?” I asked. He raises his head at that and looks up towards the sky again. I’m not sure what he’s looking at because there’s just gray clouds. “The money mostly, fifty dollars is a nice bonus, but that’s not the full reason I guess. I think I joined because I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself, you know? Jumping out of planes is a hard job but it’s a needed one. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to feel important,” He answers, shrugging and grinning slightly. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. You would say something sappy like that,” I replied, earning a smack in the back of the head.

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re such an asshole,” He said. “Hey, you’ve seen me at my worst. I’ve at least become a little less of an asshole,” I retorted back, feeling my mouth lift into a grin. Hall runs a hand through his dark hair and glances at me in amusement. 

“You’d fit right in with Easy Company then,” He snarks. 

Mood instantly ruined. 

I crossed my arms and frowned. “You’re full of it buddy. Since you like ‘em so much why don’t you just join ‘em?” I snapped back. He laughs at my childish insult and shakes his head fondly. “I mean they are the best of all the companies, who wouldn’t want to join them,” He replies simply. I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped me.

“You traitor!” I scoffed.

 “Oh come on, you can’t deny it. Back in Toccoa they aced every physical test, they even had to do it again one time because the brass didn’t believe it. They’ve earned the title of being the best, who wouldn’t wanna be a part of the best?” Hall explains himself. 

Fuck Hall for always having to be right. So what if Easy actually lived up to the praise? The press just blows smoke up their asses and inflates their major egos. Able Company could’ve marched all the way to Benning and started our jump training early, but we didn’t want to show off like those assholes. I frowned at the thought of Lydia being with them the entire time. She contributed to their press run in her own way. She’d been named in the papers more times than the company itself. 

“I wanna go help them with their mission,” Hall declared, beaming with determination. I rolled my eyes and knocked him with my elbow. “Well it’s their responsibility and Winters didn’t bring you along with them so you can just forget about it,” I snapped back. He sighs, sulking once again and looking longingly at the sky. 

What a drama queen. It’s like he was trying to get himself killed. He’s braver than me by a long shot, but he’s gotta be out of his mind if he thinks I’m just gonna let him walk into a gun fight all because he thinks he’s got something to prove. 

“If we were in their place I bet they would help us,” He retorts. 

“Sure, but you’d have to listen to their complaining the entire time,” I huffed. 

“They’re complainers, but do-ers,” Hall adds as if that means anything. 

I shook my head and grabbed my canteen from my pack, taking a slow sip as I thought quietly to myself.

Easy were helpers. Guarnere, Toye, and whoever else had been with him that night in Albourne had jumped in to help me even when I didn’t need it; Winters helped cut me down from the tree; and even Lydia, even though she bitched about it, helped me by taking care of my stitches when she could’ve directed that responsibility onto somebody else. They’re eccentric, loud, obnoxious, strong, and above all else, the type to be considered heroes. 

Yeah, that’s a better word for what they are. Heroes, even if they don’t try to be. 

The sound of rushing water fills my ears, a muffled screaming in the far distance. Don’t be a hero… that’s what he always used to say. Every time he picked on Jo I’d try and stop him only to get a bloody nose and a black eye. He treated all of us horribly, all up until the end of his life. I fought him at every turn and still lost; I lost to a fucking rock in a river. Will would've hate Easy Company, he’d hate on ‘em for being better than him and for playing hero every chance they got-...

My stomach twists and I force myself to stop scratching at the scar. 

Christ, I’m just fucking like him, aren’t I?

We found out later that Popeye had gotten shot in the ass. He apparently had to crawl all the way back here since they didn’t have a medic with them. When we heard his voice from across the way Hall raced up and dragged me along with him. The entire time we were running I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I didn’t like Easy Company, but that didn’t mean I wanted any of them to die. Popeye was a nice guy, he involved me and Hall in with Easy even when he didn’t have to.

We found him in the aid station a few moments later. Lydia and another nurse were working over him all while he muttered and heaved about how sorry he was and that he didn’t mean to fuck up. Even then Lydia wasn't phased or shook up. She ordered the nurse to go fetch something with an ice cold tone before turning back to him. “It’s alright, Wynn. You’re gonna be just fine,” She soothed. 

Suddenly Hall wheels me around to face him, his hands clamped on my shoulders. 

“Well we gotta do something now, don’t we?” He says, grinning awkwardly. 

Shit. 

I followed him over to where they had all dropped their stuff and quickly let go of anything that wasn’t my M-1, my ammo, and my medical bag. They better hope and pray I don’t have to use it.

“You’re gonna get us killed, you moron. It’s not our problem!” I shouted.

Hall ignored me and ran off in the direction we had seen them go in when they left. I scowled and scooped up as much ammo as I could, hoping that this would be enough to reinforce them. 

It felt like my heart was in my throat as the sound of gunfire drew near. We sprinted through a cabbage patch field, and for a brief moment it felt like we were back in Albourne running through grassy fields during training. Back then I was faster than him. Even back then in Toccoa I was a little bit faster. I always used to tease him for it, but now he was a few steps ahead of me. I kept my head low; dropping down at the sound of machine gun fire ripping through the air overhead. 

“Come on, hurry!” Hall calls out to me. 

He was still upright; running like he was invincible. 

“Christ, keep your head down!” I shouted. 

We got to Easy just in time. In the distance I cursed at the sight of Malarkey running and diving back down into the trench.

“Forgot your frigging Luger? You want I should go get it for ya, you stupid Mick?” Guarnere insults in frustration.

They’re all fucking crazy. Hall included, he might as well be one of them now. 

I dove down beside himin the trench, opposite from them and clenched my jaw at the endless gunfire cracking up above. Lieutenant Winters has to shout to be heard over the sound. He asks something about TNT and Sergeant Lipton. I scowled and glanced at Hall. He’s got some and with that son of a bitch so desperate to help I know he’s practically itching to volunteer himself. 

“Hiya, Cowboy,” Guarnere shouts after spotting us. 

I frowned, about to speak when to my surprise Hall retorted back. 

“Shut your fucking Guinea trap, Gonorrhea,” He snaps. 

Only a crazy person could laugh in a situation like this, but after hearing that I just couldn’t contain myself. Never in all the years I’ve known him have I ever heard Hall utter such a phrase. Clearly I’m not the only one impressed, because Guarnere grins and glances at Malarkey.

“He’s alright, that kid,” He says. 

“Hall, Monroe, lovely of you to join us,” Winters greets us. He then directs his attention towards me and my armful of ammo. “Nice idea, Monroe! Everyone take what you can! Anyone got TNT?” He shouts. I was handing out ammo when I saw Hall’s eyes go wide and him reach for his musette bag. “I’ve got TNT, sir!” He states. 

Goddamn it!

 “Good job, private!”

He and Winters run over towards one of the guns, leaving me behind with the rest of the men. I peeked up above the trench, slamming back down as soon as shots started being fired my way. When there was a break in between the the enemy fire, I raised my head once again and pulled the trigger. I can’t see if I got anyone or if I even aimed in the right direction. There’s so much shit being thrown at us that if I were to raise my head I’d be done.

“I can’t fucking see anything!” I scowled. 

“Just keep firing, look for the helmets,” Someone shouts from beside me. 

“Well how am I supposed to do that when I can’t see!” I snapped back. I tried again only to no avail. When I ducked back down, I twisted around and spotted a tree nearby.

There! If I can get up in that tree then I can see properly and get some good cover. It’s a perfect plan!

Just as I’m scrambling over towards it, Guarnere grabs me by the arm sleeve and sends me flying back into the dirt. I landed on my back and grunted, frowning up at him as he stared down at me. “Don’t even think about it, kid!” He snaps, firing his Thomson when there’s another break. “Just keep firing from below,” He orders.

Damn!

“Fire in the hole!” Winters shouts.

 I ducked and a blast of TNT went off nearby. There was ringing for only a few seconds until I could hear again. I opened my eyes and found Hall staring proudly at his TNT being put to good use. I couldn't help but scoff and shake my head. What a moron. He's been waiting to use that TNt since we first got it. 

Winters orders more covering fire, directing it towards the third gun. “Malarkey, Hall, Monroe, you three, go!” He orders.

My stomach dropped, but I ran up beside Hall and followed behind as best I could while keeping my head low. We were running through some fortified trench tunnel, but it might as well have been a hedgerow from how small it was. Whenever I could I fired at any helmet I could. I didn't stop to think about it when I them drop. 

We got to the second gun a few seconds later. There was a man I didn't know or hadn't been listening to when his name was introduced already there. He announced that they were running low on ammo. I turned back to where we'd just come from and debated running back to grab more, but decided against it. There wasn't enough time. I had just enough to carry me for a little while, but if the rest of them were running out then there's no way we're gonna be able to hold this gun on our own. 

Winters must have a plan because he gestures us further down the trench system. “Okay, Hall, keep your head down. Monroe, you go with him,” He orders. "Yes, sir!" I shouted back. He then intructs Hall to leave his beloved TNT. I followed behind Hall, nearly slipping over mud as my boots slammed into the ground. He was still ahead of me, I picked up the pace to try and keep up with him but it was no good. 

When we get to this kraut tunnel, more shots ring out as we enter. I scan the space and exhale deeply at the brief moment of peace we had. 

“Shit, you really are an idiot, you know? We could’ve stayed-...”

My voice trails off when I see Hall on the ground.

"Hall?" I asked.

I got to his side in an instant, grabbing him by his uniform and pulling to help him up. “Hey, come on! Get up, we gotta go, man!” I shouted. Despite me shaking and throttling him around he still wasn’t moving.

No, that’s not right, no, I just saw him up a few seconds ago. I was- I was running and I had my head down and he was ahead of me-... I couldn't keep up with him.

“John, get the fuck up!” I shouted again, my voice growing tight. 

I turn him over and there’s blood gushing from his jaw, his flesh was oddly deformed in a way that it hadn’t been before. His eyes don’t look right either. They’re not wide like they were when he got to use his TNT or playfully narrowed after I said something to piss him off. They were just blank, staring at something far in the distance that I couldn’t see. He’s not grinning awkwardly, or smiling at me, or talking my head off, or nudging my shoulder, or calling me an asshole. 

My medical bag! I need to-.. I feel down on chest and he’s not breathing. His heart’s not beating. He’s completely still, not moving at all. Something presses down on me, the pressure forced out all the air in my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I looked down at my hands and saw them covered in blood- his blood; they were shaking.

His dogtags, I have to get his dogtags! 

I looked down at John Hall and felt everything go cold. 

“Fuck you,” I choked. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” 

“Hall! Monroe!” Winters calls.

He runs in with his head down. There was a smile on his face, he had wanted to tell him something, but his expression drops the second he sees him. He lowers to the ground beside me, and waves off some fly already buzzing around Hall’s face. My stomach twists at the sight, and I snap the dog tags off from around his neck before shoving them into my musette bag. 

“Come on, we need to move,” He orders, his tone lowered as he puts a hand on my shoulder.

I swallowed back the vomit that was crawling up my throat and raised with him. “Yes, sir,” I forced out, still feeling winded and cold. The corners of my vision went blurry as I followed him into another tunnel, there were some maps that he grabbed and stuffed away. I wasn’t looking, I turned my gaze towards the gunfire and clenched the grip on my M-1.

When Dog Company arrives with more ammo, I take up as much as I’m allowed before briefly watching them take on the third gun. As soon as I caught sight of the krauts running out in the open, I put my finger on the trigger and didn’t stop firing until I needed to reload. I’m not sure how many I got. It didn’t matter anyway. It’s still not enough. 

I get my hands to stop shaking, keep my fingers steady and direct as I move wherever I’m instructed to go.

The world felt like it was spinning and like I could see but I couldn’t. The scar’s itching again and in my mind I can hear three conversations all going on at the same time. 

“I told you not to be a hero, idiot…She ain’t gonna do shit, kid. You oughta know better getting involved in my business.”

“Private Hall’s dead. You lose your head and people die. If you can’t even bandage a simple laceration right you are worthless to your company and a failure to the United States Army.”

“Monroe!? Shit, it is you. Hold on, Dylan!...Luckiest bastard in Normandy…I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually… I think you do know why you joined, otherwise you wouldn’t have done it, right?”

I follow Winters and the others back to the trench over by the first gun. My finger didn't let up off the trigger and I didn't bother ducking my head down again. I only pull off when I'm down on my side trying to fire over the dirt mound again. I turned to my right and didn't find him there. From where I'm shooting I still can't fucking see and we still haven't gotten enough of those kraut bastards yet. 

When I twist back around and catch sight of the tree; I don't bother waiting anymore. Sergeant Guarnere was focused on his own aim and Winters was starting to pull out the machine gunners.

That's fine, I'll just give them a little extra covering fire. 

I lung forward up above Malarkey's head and scaled up the tree; it came so naturally to me that it felt easier than breathing. The excessive force ripped open my stitches. Blood started dripping down my arm, but I forced myself to look away. Instead I got myself behind a branch for cover and caught sight of some krauts scrambling around in the open. 

I reloaded my M-1, cocked back the hammer, and fired until I couldn’t anymore. 

“Get the fuck out of that tree, Monroe!” Guarnere orders. 

Winters shouts down below to maintain our base of fire. I didn’t jump down until I heard him order us back to battalion. When I landed on the ground, Sergeant Guarnere grips me by the collar and smacks me a few times upside the head. “You got water in your ears or something? I told you to get the hell out of that tree and what did you do?” He shouts at me. Even Joe Toye and Lieutenant Compton- the man I didn’t know the name of earlier, yelled at me. 

It was all just noise. I stared at the ground, muttering a few “yes, sirs” before being dragged along with them back to battalion. Winters was staring at me and I had to force myself to look away.

After it was over everything started to fade out. The guys were talking to me, but there was no sound coming from their mouths. I left them and walked back over to our spot over on the grassy mound. I didn’t find what I was looking for so I took a walk around the camp. I circled back around five times, checking to find that familiar face in the crowds of paratroopers roaming about. He wasn’t there. 

When I returned to the spot on the mound, I sat down and put my head in my hands.

There was no one there to talk my ear off, to pester me with stupid questions, or distract me from my own thoughts so I got to thinking. I thought of John Hall and our friends, and questioned if they might have met a similar fate. I thought of Lieutenant Muir and if he’s out here somewhere looking for me. He never really liked me much, neither did any of the other guys. They only really tolerated me after I got my act together and buddied up with him.  I don’t think any of those guys are looking for me right now. 

Now it’s just me.

I used to prefer being alone back in Toccoa, back when I was used to it. Now everything feels too quiet. I can feel a hand reach and scratch at the itching but it doesn’t soothe the ache.

If I had only just talked to Hall sooner. If I hadn’t wasted those first two weeks ignoring him and gotten my act together sooner I could’ve known him longer. 

I reach into my musette bag and pull out his dog tags. They were still so cold. 

At some point I stood back up and continued my aimless search for a man I knew wasn’t there. Someone let me bum a smoke and a light from ‘em, and only for a moment did the bitter smoke ease whatever was pressing down on my chest.

When the sun went down, I was reminded of earlier this morning and how I had been in a similar darkness making my way through Normandy. I should feel more tired than I am, and I guess in a way I was tired, but I couldn’t sleep. 

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was it? If D-Day was really over?

Eventually after circling around a few more times I found myself at the aid station. I don’t know what I was looking for there, but I stopped when I saw Lydia smoking outside off to the side of the tent. Her head was back and she was staring into the fading sunset. The stars and moon were just starting to come out.

I’m not sure what drew me towards her; all I knew was that I didn’t want to be alone right now. 

When I took another few steps towards her, she finally acknowledged me. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the cigarette in my hand, I just took another drag and dared her to say something about it. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there trying to read my mind. 

“Is Popeye gonna make it?” I asked after a while. 

Lydia pauses at the sound of my voice; it sounded like a worse version of Toye’s in my opinion. If she noticed she didn’t say it, instead she turned her gaze away from me and looked up at the sky while exhaling her smoke. “He will, he’s just got a lot of physical therapy ahead of him,” She answers. 

I followed her gaze and looked at the sky, trying to find what she found so interesting about it. When she used to live with us, Christ that was so long ago now, she used to step outside and stare up at every sunrise and sunset. I would join her, but then get bored and run off to find Jo. Now I wish that I could stay here and watch the sunset and never have to be anywhere again. 

“Have you found Abel Company yet?” The Lieutenant asked me.

“No,” I said, my tone unwavering as a soldier’s was supposed to.

“What happened?” Aunt Lydia asks, her tone far softer.

“Hall,” I choked, the soldier cracking away and giving way to something worse. 

That was all I could say before I choked and felt my vision start to blur. Several tears managed to escape me before I could hide them with my left arm. I bit down on my lip to keep it from wobbling and hoped that she could say something that would piss me off so bad I didn’t have to think about him anymore.

Lydia’s not a hugger, she never has been and she never will be, but she tosses out her cigarette and wraps an arm around my neck before pulling me closer. We’re stood like that for only a few minutes until she let me go. I finally got myself to stop crying and shoved down whatever I could into a pit deep enough that I didn’t have to feel it anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” Lydia whispers.

Her expression then tightens and Lieutenant Sterling comes swinging back around in full force.

“I warned you,” She added, it felt like a punch to the gut.

I closed my eyes and took a long drag of smoke before responding. It didn’t ease whatever weight was making it so hard to breathe this time. “Can you just be Aunt Lydia for a little bit,” I whispered, hoping no one else could hear. She pauses at that, her frown tightening.

There’s a moment where none of us say anything. I hoped she wouldn’t, I hoped we could just have this silence between us for a little while longer and that we didn’t have to fight. But she opens her mouth and I resign myself to our fate.  “I could’ve been had you washed out like I told you to,” She retorts. 

I exhaled and nodded. 

We were gonna fight about that until the day we die it seems. 

“Or if you had just joined the Army Nurse Corps like you said you were,” I snapped back. Her eyes narrow at my response, but she doesn’t say anything because she knows its fair game in this war we were having. She runs a hand that was stained with dried blood down the side of her face. I looked at my own hands and saw the dirt and blood from today still there. 

“You should go check in with your company now,” She says. 

I huffed and looked up at the night sky in search of what little patience I had left. 

“I haven’t found Able Company yet,” I reminded her. 

She hums and looks at me like I’m an idiot before responding. “I know. Go report to Lieutenant Winters,” She states. I paused felt my neck snap towards her, but she was already walking away. “For now you’ll have to stay in Easy, he’s your commanding officer so go see him for your orders,” She explains further. 

“Do you want me to stay in Easy?” I asked before I could stop myself. 

Lydia stops walking and turns to face me, her expression hardening as she stares at me with those dark cold eyes I’ve come to know so well in the second lieutenant. “It’s not up to me,” She answers smoothly, giving nothing away. 

“And if it was?” I continued. 

“If it were, you wouldn’t be here at all,” She states firmly. 

I swallowed and watched as she spun back around, her braid lashing as she disappeared into the darkness of the tent.

The line between Aunt Lydia and Lieutenant Sterling was still as firm as it always was. 

I left soon after that and went around searching for Lieutenant Winters like she said. I walked over to Battalion HQ only for them to tell me that he left some time ago. I came across some soldiers on the street and asked around, but it proved to be consistently unhelpful. I oughta just stop asking random people, none of these Joes have any idea who’s where or what’s going on. 

My stomach was starting to rumble and with the only light coming from the moon now really wasn’t the best time to be looking for someone. I was walking down the street, debating whether I should just wait until morning to continue, when I passed by Liebgott slipping out the back of some truck.

“Jesus, let me outta here,” He curses, waving his hand in front of his nose.

As I'm running up to ask him about Winters, he flashes me a glance before walking away. 

Whatever, not like I wanted to talk to him anyway. 

I turned my attention towards the truck and found pretty much all of Easy Company cramped in the back of it.

“Light, light discipline,” Sergeant Lipton orders flatly. “Guarnere, close that flap.” I strolled up to it and poked my head in, only to be met with the smell of whoever’s ass has been rotting in the back of it. No wonder Liebgott had left in such a hurry. The smell of cooked food hit me afterwards, so I stayed. 

They all looked just as exhausted as I felt after everything that happened today. The truck was cast in a dim orange light from the fire that had a pot of whatever Malarkey was cooking up on it. For whatever reason the mood in here felt lighter. I could hear their laughter from down the road and something had pulled me in. What could there possibly be to laugh about?

Guarnere glances and then fully turns when he sees me; his grin widens. “Hey look, it’s the kid. Where ya been?” He asked.

That earned me a lot of eyes. After everything that happened earlier when I was kinda out of it I lost track of them. I wasn’t in a very good mood to see him and get more shit for earlier, so I ignored him. 

“Around,” I answered vaguely. “Any of you see Lieutenant Winters?” I asked. 

Most of them shook their heads in response, muttering that the last time they saw him was when they were leaving Brecourt. I closed my eyes and exhaled. I’ve been running around for hours and I still feel lost. 

When I looked up Sergeant Lipton gestures for me to come in. “He oughta turn up at some point, Private. You wanna join us?” He offers kindly.

The thought of food was nice, but this truck was already cramped enough and I didn’t wanna be some tag along. I was about to respectfully decline when Guarnere suddenly yanks me up onto the truck by the collar. “Sure he does, come on, get in here ‘fore ya starve to death,” He answers for me. I frowned and was about to hop back down, but Lieutenant Compton and Toye already swapped spots so they could make room for me.

This was not at all how this was supposed to go.

After they settled I sighed and despite all prior reluctance finally agreed. “Sure, why not,” I muttered.

I sat down with them, closing the flap as Malarkey stirred up whatever bullshit he was cooking.

“How we looking, Malark?” Guarnere asks. 

The chatty ginger tastes it before nodding in approval. “We’re looking good,” He replies confidently. I peered over to see what it was he was making and nearly twisted back around and ditched them after all. “What the hell do you know about cooking, you’re Irish,” Lieutenant Compton remarks. Whatever it was certainly didn’t look ‘good’. I think I’d rather eat the leather off my boots. “Sir, if you’ve got a reservation some place else I’d be happy to go with you,” Malarkey retorts. He starts dishing it out and despite my complaining I wasted no time getting it down. It was god awful but beggars can’t be choosers I guess.

The mystery meat was in fact a mystery, because no matter how long I chewed it I still couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be. It tasted exactly how those dead horses from earlier smelled. Now I can't get the thought of this being horse meat out of my head.

Joe Toye was sitting beside me and kept glancing over at me. Suddenly he raises his head with a raised eyebrow and looks around curiously. “Hey, where’s the other guy? Hall, right? Ain’t he joining us?” He asked me. 

My whole body went still. I felt my stomach lurch and the vomit rise up in my throat. 

Had Winters not already told them? No, there’s no way they didn’t already know. It’s gotta be some sick joke, some cruel prank on me. I looked up and didn't find any smirks or anyone laughing at me. They were all really waiting for an answer, and I didn’t know how to tell them. I swallowed thickly and stared back down at the floor, I didn’t wanna see their faces anymore.

It took several minutes before I finally found the words for what I wanted to say- words that wouldn’t make me feel any sicker and ones that wouldn’t need follow up questions after hearing. 

“He uh… he got it during Brecourt,” I finally said. 

The silence falling over the truck made it all so much worse. I’d rather them just move on and keep joking like they had been. Maybe that would’ve made this a little easier, then I could just go back to being the paratrooper I had been when I  first got here. I should want to hate them still. They’re still the same Easy Company that I hated and insulted on the regular. Just this morning they’d been making fun of us- of me, but now it’s all changed and different and I hate it. 

Joe Toye reaches and picks up a bottle of some kind of alcohol, he then holds it out towards me and I take it without a second thought. Even after taking a swallow and looking at the label I still couldn’t figure out what it was. All I could feel was the burn afterwards. I was about to hand it back to him, when Guarnere snatches it from me. He looks up, lifting the bottle towards the roof before taking a drink himself. 

No words were spoken. They didn’t need to be. For a brief moment, the silence in the truck wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. There was a quiet understanding of knowing what it was like to lose men, and there was something so comforting in it that it made me sick. I’d forgotten that they too knew loss, even if it was different from mine. 

After a while they get back to talking again, and at some point someone rips ass so badly it lightens the mood immediately.

I couldn’t fully laugh, not like I could before today, but a half smile itched across my face as I took another bite of my mystery meal that according to Lipton wasn’t horse meat. 

I raised my head and looked at Guarnere after remembering what Malarkey said earlier about his brother. Maybe our loss wasn’t that different. I think I might understand him better than I thought. At the time I couldn’t imagine doing what he did to those krauts on the cart after the jump, but now I guess I did. I considered him a madman, but maybe without knowing I did the same thing he did during Brecourt.

It’s a little funny how that works out I guess.

I'm not sure how many people I had hit or if they had lived, now wasn't the time to dwell on it. I'll repent like I promised I would on the plane. If I don't, if my luck runs out before then then I guess I'll just go to hell. I was already headed there anyway, so it's not that much of a change. 

“So Hoot, you running with Easy now?” Guarnere asked me. 

I rolled my eyes at the nickname but chose to ignore it in favor of shoveling more food into my mouth.

“I’m not sure yet, I gotta go see Winters first,” I answered.

Buck looks at me with a raised eyebrow and turns to Bill. “What’s the Hoot thing about?” He asked. Seriously? I thought he already told them the story. The lieutenant’s not the only one looking confused though, except for Joe Toye who was smirking to himself. “It’s a stupid nickname-,” I answered. 

“So me, Martin, and Joe were leaving some bar in Albourne a couple months ago, and as we’re walking down the street we start hearing a bunch of smack talk. We get over there and come across this kid in the middle of the road having a three on one with some of the locals. He’s got no shirt, no shoes, nothing,” Guarnere interrupts.

“No shoes?” Lieutenant Compton looks at me, scoffing in amusement. 

“He was drunk as a skunk,” Toye remarks, adding to my embarrassment. 

 I felt my ears start to burn and crossed my arms in annoyance. “They were soldiers,” I added. “Yeah whatever, anyway,” Guarnere continues. “The kid’s absolutely flailing, I mean he’s just getting battered left, right, and center. It was pitiful. He gets one good punch in before getting put down on his ass. The brits were gonna keep wailing on him, so we stepped in,” He adds, playing one two skip a few with the details. 

“Hey! I was winning that fight in the bar when it was just him. Let’s see you fight three guys after a couple of beers. And they weren’t wailing on me, I got plenty of good punches. I would’ve won if the guy didn’t bring in his two buddies,” I protested, rolling my eyes.

“So when did the hoot part come in?” Malarkey laughs. 

“Well after me and Joe jumped in, those pricks ran off. I tried helping the kid up and he starts insisting he didn’t need any help-,” Guarnere said, taking a drag of his smoke as he laughed at the memory. “Because I didn’t,” I interrupted. “So he said, the whole time the kid kept squabbling that he didn’t need our help all while looking like a bloodied and busted up tomato. So I said, “well ain’t yous a real hoot”. He gets all red in the face and storms off. Now that name’s just stuck,” He concludes with an irritating smirk. 

“At least it’s not fucking Gonorrhea,” I snapped back. 

“See, like I said, he’s a real hoot,” He quips. 

Laughter filled the truck and oddly enough it felt nice. In Easy nicknames were just as real as actual names, like Popeye and Lip and Malark. They’re not as stupid as Hoot and Gonorrhea though, but they were real enough in their own way. In Able we had a similar thing, but back then I was just Monroe. Hall didn’t have a nickname either; the only one being Cowboy of all things. 

At the thought of him I felt the pressure in my chest return. It was like the itching; it never really went away. Even if the scar were to fade someday, I don’t think it’ll change a thing. Whatever this weight is, I don't think that it’s going away either. 

“I think it’s fitting,” I heard Malarkey say, grinning to himself as he turned to the guys. “We saw him up there in that tree and he might as well have been a goddamn owl. Bill kept shouting at him to get down, but he stayed right there and only got down after Winters told him to,” He laughs. I stopped thinking in that moment and huffed; it was weak sounding but in a way it was almost a laugh. I’m not sure what compelled me to listen to Winters, I barely even remember getting down. The only thing I could remember from there was afterwards when Guarnere hit me in the back of the head. 

“Hey, I think I saw Lip up in a tree earlier too,” Buck mentions, and laughter follows. 

The flap to the truck opened a minute later with Winters sticking his head in. Looks like I’d be getting my conversation tonight after all.

“Evening,” He greets, before staggering back at the horrible smell. “Did something die in here?” He grits out. 

“Yeah, Malarkey’s ass,” Someone mutters, earning a few laughs. 

“Any word on Lieutenant Meehan, sir?” Compton asks, the mood once again turning somber.

I turned to Winters and watched his expression tighten. “No, not yet,” He replies smoothly. He was a lot like Lydia in that way. They never really gave away whatever it was they were thinking. Part of me wondered if they were friends. 

“Don’t that make you our commanding officer, sir?” Guarnere asks. 

I didn’t know Sobel or Meehan very well, so I couldn’t say for sure if Winters being put in charge was a good thing, but based on what I’ve seen today I’m inclined to believe he might make a pretty decent CO. 

He sucks in air and looks up at the Philly man. “Yeah, it does,” He responds. 

Bill pauses and then gives him a nod of approval. It was an odd change from their stare down just earlier that morning. When Joe offers the lieutenant the bottle, he responds to him. “Joe, the Lieutenant don't drink,” He states.

Ah, yes, I remember that complaint being spouted about fifty times during our march through Normandy. I think that’s the only other thing I know about Winters apart from the fact that he was a good combat leader and had a decent sense of humor. Though to me and the other guys' surprise, Winters takes the bottle. 

“It’s been a day of firsts,” He replies, taking a quick sip. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” I muttered. 

He acknowledges me and nods before offering the bottle to Bill. “Don’t you think, Guarnere?” He adds. Unsurprisingly, Bill takes up the offer quickly and takes an even longer sip.

“Carry on,” Winters says, dipping his head to leave. The guys wished him goodnight and I prepared to get up with him, only to find him poking his head back in and turning towards Guarnere.“Oh, Sergeant?” He begins. 

I swallowed and sat back down to see what this was about. 

“Sir?” Bill asks, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not a Quaker,” Winters remarks.

A laugh escaped me, as I shook my head and recalled that memory from earlier. The guys were laughing too, Malarkey reaching over and nudging Bill’s shoulder. The sight forced me to pause, to reel in whatever chill rushed down my spine and to shove it back down until I couldn’t feel it anymore. 

After that Winters left and I stepped out to follow him. 

“Lieutenant Winters, sir,” I called out to him. 

He pauses, allowing me to catch up before he continues walking and fiddling with some tin can of food. “Monroe?” He asks. I was about to speak when someone else called his name. I frowned, turning around to face the intruder only to freeze when I saw a man with black hair and northern accent rushing over. 

“Hey, Dick!” He calls. 

Oh.

Winters turns towards him and offers the littlest of smiles.

 “You know that map you found? It had every Kraut gun in Normandy on it,” The man tells him.

I swallowed and continued walking with them, keeping quiet until it was my turn. Winters didn’t seem all that interested in the information he was being given, he was just glad to see him- maybe they were friends. Now that I’m looking at him, that guys’ face looks familiar. He might’ve been the one who was with Winters that day when Sobel mistook me for an Easy Company guy. I think he was also the intelligence officer giving the lecture during the D-Day briefing too. 

Lieutenant Nixon, I believe the name was. 

I’m snapped from my thoughts when Winters mentions losing a man today. I swallowed hard and stared at my boots as I followed beside them.

“Hall, a John Hall, New Yorker. Got killed today at Brecourt,” He mentions, lowering his tone after spotting my flinch. “I never knew him,” Nixon adds sympathetically. Apparently he did though, because when Winters mentions John having been on the 506th basketball team that seemed to ring a bell for him.

Why didn’t I ever join him for one of those stupid games? I never got to see him play, I never even asked him if his team won or if he enjoyed playing basketball. There was so much time I wasted icing him and everyone out those two first weeks at Toccoa, and now it’s time I’ll never get back. I'm such an idiot.

“He was a good man,” Winters adds.

 I flinched hard. Was is such a cruel word. 

“Man,” He scoffs. “Not even old enough to buy a beer.”

At that I couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound weakly meets my ears.

We were both underage back then in Toccoa, yet most weekends were spent at dance halls getting drunk off cheap beer we managed to smuggle from the ladies who danced with us. Hall never did get to buy his own beer, but we drank plenty together. I never got to see him on the court, but in a dance hall I got to know him pretty well. He was a helluva better dancer than I was. I hope he had as much fun as I did. I hope that was enough time well spent. 

Nixon leaves shortly after mentioning that he sent up the map Winters found up to division. He tells him that he thinks it's gonna do some good, and I really hope he’s right. I hope all this shit is actually worth it in the end. 

Lieutenant Winters and I continued walking down the cobblestone road. He slows after a while and leans against the side of a truck. I look up and find him watching the bombings strike the town across the river from us. At some point I must’ve grown accustomed to the sound of artillery and gunfire. Earlier after the jump when we first started making our way through Normandy, I wished that I could get used to the noise. I guess I got what I wanted after all.

“You did good work today, Monroe. You and Hall both,” Winters said.

I turned and found him with his eyes still fixed on the fiery wreckage past the river. He looked oddly relaxed, maybe tired after everything that happened today. I couldn’t blame him for that. 

I swallowed and kicked at the ground some before responding. “Yeah, uh… thank you, sir. He looked up to you, you know? After you guys left he was real torn up about not being able to do anything. I thought he was an idiot- shit, after Popeye came through he shot up and decided he’d join in after all. I just kinda followed him around,” I told him.

My vision started to blur and I found tears welling up in my eyes once again. Quickly I cleared my throat and looked up at the fiery, dusky orange across the river. 

If Winters knew, he didn’t say anything.

“Whether or not you wanted to help in the beginning is irrelevant, Private. I’m very grateful to have had you both with us. You’re a pretty decent shot when you can see, although I’d rather you next time remain on the ground instead of climbing up any more trees,” He remarks. I huffed out a laugh at that and shook my head. Yeah, I don’t know about that. Hopefully for the krauts there aren’t any trees where we’re going. “Able Company should be proud,” Winters adds. 

That reminds me, I still need to ask him about who I’m reporting to. 

“Thank you, sir. Earlier, uh, Lieutenant Sterling told me to report to you for orders, but I’m not sure if after today I’ll still be fighting with Easy so… uh, yeah, I was just wondering,” I said, my voice trailing off awkwardly. 

He thinks for a moment, making my stomach clench with stress. “Well from what I’ve heard Able Company’s been spotted, but they’re nowhere near here. I don’t see any sense in sending you on your way when Easy Company is still missing most of our men, so yeah, for now you’ll report to me. Get some rest, we’re moving out in an hour,” He decides. 

That at least cleared up what was gonna happen to me for the next few days or however long I’m there for.

I exhaled deeply. “Thank you, sir,” I said before finally leaving him alone.

It was a relief knowing Able Company’s status and that eventually I might make it back to them. Me joining up with Easy isn’t supposed to be a permanent thing, so I suppose I’ll just have to stick it out until I can go back to where I’m supposed to be. For now though I guess I’m stuck here. 

I traveled back and glanced down at my right arm and the ripped bloody stitches still there. I must’ve lost the feeling in my arm back then because I completely forgot about it and now it was starting to hurt again. No way in hell I’m going back to Lydia at this hour, so I’ll just handle it myself whenever I find a spot to rest. I frowned, lost in thought, and looked up ahead to see a tree in the distance. Looking around there briefly I found no one else here to stop me, so I ran up and started making my way up the tree.

It took a little more effort this time. My adrenaline must’ve been through the roof for me to have scaled up that tree so quickly earlier. 

When I got up on a thicker branch about twenty feet off the ground, I sat down and reached for my medical bag. Everything else I had was still in the truck so I oughta circle back around to get it after I’m done. I know how to do my own stitches, doing them in the dark would prove to be a challenge though.

I cleaned up the blood just as Lydia had earlier, and grabbed a needle and some thread before getting started. It was painful and not nearly as neat as her handy work, but it was good enough for now at least.

Down below tanks were being moved in and out, men were laying about and trying to get as much rest as they could because soon enough we’d be up and moving again. 

As I’m doing my stitches I start thinking, and with nobody here to distract me I find myself unable to stop.

I thought of Easy, and came to the horrifying conclusion that I never really hated them. Crazy thought, but it doesn’t feel like a hate- maybe it never had. A resentment, possibly? It’s close, but it’s not the word…

Jealous! That’s it, shit. 

I was- or am, a jealous piece of shit who couldn’t handle seeing a group of people share a connection that I never got to have. Even in my own family I never really had what Easy Company has. Dad’s been gone so long I don’t remember what his face looks like; Ma hasn’t spoken to me in years and probably won’t for the rest of my life; Will’s dead, thank god; and Lydia hadn’t been my aunt for a very long time now. But Elsie’s good, she’s been the one keeping my luck from running out, so yeah, she’s the only exception. 

There’s something so triggering about seeing a group of men- and a woman- from all over the country, who have known each other for only a couple years, have a connection stronger than my own family’s. 

I wanted it so badly- No I still want it and I always will want it.

Back before the war, I wanted to be a firefighter. I was gonna drop out of school and start training. Not because I actually wanted to do that kind of work, but because I saw the men who showed up at Dad’s funeral and the connection those guys have in the stations and wanted it too. I wanted it so bad, but stopped when I saw how selfish it was. It’s selfish to take from a job that’s supposed to give.

Those men help people and if I were with them I’d only be there to try and replace something inside of me that can’t ever be fixed. So I turned away, I stayed in school and gave up those stupid dreams… or so I thought. When I saw that poster in the recruiters office, I later spoke to him and didn’t think twice before running back home with a new plan of how I was gonna join the paratroopers at sixteen.  

Connection doesn’t come as easily as foraging papers and signing up for the army though, but it’s not like I’ve done myself any favors. I pushed everyone away the second I got there and why… I don’t know. I got lucky with Hall and I wasted time pushing him away. Now my luck’s run out with him and the only person I have to blame is myself. 

If there’s a god, if he really did plan all this out and is using this moment as some kind of a lesson, then I sure hope he’s happy because I’m fucking not. 

I bit off the remaining thread and flexed my arm in the moonlight. It looked fine in this light, I imagine in the morning it’ll look worse and Lydia will call it sloppy, but as long as it holds it’s fine I guess. Easy should be real glad nobody ever decided I should be a medic. If Lydia lost her shit after finding out I was a rifleman, she would’ve raged had I been anything close to what she does. 

Down below the wind was starting to pick up a little. It rustled the leaves as the bombs went off in the far distance. I laid my head back and stared up at the open sky littered with smoke and stars. The twenty foot drop didn’t bother me, it was nothing compared to the four hundred we dropped from earlier. Heights never really got to me either, back home I always liked climbing trees, light posts, and messing around on rooftops. 

I guess that’s another question answered. I joined the paratroopers because I like heights, and because I’m selfish and I want people to need me. All that and the pay I guess. 

I reached into my other bag and pulled out Hall’s dog tags. Then I raised them up so the moonlight could reflect off the metal, and started twisting them around. John D. Hall. After a few moments I reached for my own and snapped them off to view them in the same light. Dylan J. Monroe.

Idly, I slid his tags on mine before putting them back around my neck. Whenever we can send mail again, I’ll send those home to his folks. 

For now though… for now I’ll keep them and Elsie’s blue hair ribbon. They oughta keep my luck from running out. Blue is a lucky color apparently. 

“Hoot, get the hell down from there!” Guarnere shouts at me. 

I peered down below and saw him and the other guys. Sergeant Lipton had my rifle and pack, surely about to bother me about leaving it behind.

Has an hour already passed? Was it already time to go?

I ignored Bill’s shouting for the time being and looked back up at the sky. My eyes closed and I let the wind brush through my hair and lap at my face. 

“Yeah, I’m coming!” I shouted back after a while.