Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Above The English Channel-
June 6th, 1944

God.. I know I’m not one of your favorite sons; I don’t pray all that much except for when I need something from ya. Shit, Ma would’ve tore me a new one if she found out I haven’t been going to church. I don’t wanna know what she’d say if she knew where I was headed and what I’m gonna do.

So if you've got some kind of plan for me tonight, if it's my time to go.. please don't make her think it's her fault. Despite all her attempts, there's nothing she could've done to change my mind. She already had one fuck up for a son, and I guess this is my way of trying to cancel out the dirt he left on our name. If I'm meant to fight Will forever then so be it. I've been trying to come to terms with that. That for every bad man out there, there's always a good one made to stop 'em. I know that to be true, sometimes I just have a hard time believing it. 

Shit, it’s probably a sin to curse during a prayer, isn't it? Whatever, sorry God, but you get my point. If your plan is for me to live, which would be pretty sweet, and I'll actually get to see through this day of days, I promise I'll go back to church when all of this is finally done. Amen, hallelujah, goodbye. 

When I was done I opened my eyes and exhaled only to see my breath visible in the air. It’s so fucking cold up here, even being packed in here like a can of sardines isn’t bringing in much heat. I leaned back and felt a cold sweat building on my forehead as I pressed the back of my skull into the cool metal of the plane. How can one be both cold and sweaty?

I squeezed the beads in my hand and tried to listen for any sign that God was gonna speak to me. That’s what people said happened to them, right? That he would speak to them and answer their prayers? I don’t know. I haven’t had that happen to me yet, so who knows. Maybe those guys are just full of shit.

“Monroe!” The guy across from me shouts above the engine of the plane.

I think that’s Brooks from first platoon, but it easily could’ve been Robinson from third. Up here in the dark it was difficult to see with the only light peeking in through the door and the windows. At least up here I could get away with mistaking a guy's name and face without trying to seem like an asshole. He puts his hand out and gestures to hand back his rosary, when I did he puts it back around his neck before shooting me a look. His sandy blonde hair looked brown in the darkness. This probably was Brooks then. Robinson was a ginger if I remember correctly.
“Are you even Catholic?” He asked me, frowning.
“Sure am,” I replied.
Tom huffs and shakes his head before turning away again.

The roaring of the plane engine rattled in my ears, drowning out all the rummaging and murmuring from the guys. Any minute now we were supposed to drop over Normandy, all we’re waiting for is the light to turn red. I have to be ready, but Christ I need a smoke. We’ve been in Albourne training for this since last September and now the day’s finally here.

Wait, is it day or night? I guess it’s technically really early morning, but who knows. It doesn’t really matter, it’s still pitch black in the stick anyway.

Outside I can hear loud cracks of artillery being fired our way. We’re sure to be in Normandy now. I closed my eyes again, muttering a quick few prayers for my pals and my buddy Hall, when suddenly there’s red seeping in through the darkness. As quick as they had closed my eyes snapped right back open, turning only to see the same red light shining over the other eleven men here with me.
The cracks are getting louder as our pilot starts speeding up. We’ve gotta be getting closer to the dropzone now, but there’s no way, it can’t be time already. From the front of the plane I spot Lieutenant Muir rising with a stern expression on his face lit up by the red light.

“Stand up!” He orders. I guess it really is time then.

My elbow digs into the wall as the plane rattles from an artillery blast; it felt like it had gone off right beside us. I willed myself to stand and got in line with the rest of the men. As soon as we were given the order from the lieutenant, I started hooking up my gear just as I had so many times before. Another blast goes off nearby, thrusting me forward into Brooks who curses in response. The shaking was getting worse the more the pilot sped up and at this speed jumping was gonna be hell.

“Equipment check!” I barely heard above the noise. I’m last in line and check myself first before getting to Brooks.
That’s good, that’s good, that’s good, alright, go!
“Twelve, okay!” I shout back.

He does the same thing and shouts, “Eleven, okay!” before it continues down the line. Another crack has the plane trembling, and I feel like I’m vibrating like a string on a guitar. Even my teeth were buzzing. I bite down on my tongue and hold my breath as I wait for Lieutenant Muir to give the order to get the fuck off this stupid hunk of metal. The next thing I know I’m being thrashed around as something hits the side of the plane. Christ, just get me off this thing!

The sound off must’ve ended because I can’t hear it anymore. I guess it doesn’t matter because the light still hasn’t turned green. You know what, God, forget my earlier prayers, just get me off this plane please. Shit, if it’s gonna happen today I’d rather it be on land, please and thank you. If I wanted to die in the sky I’d have joined the Navy and become a pilot instead of a paratrooper. 
Thankfully one of my prayers, hopefully the one where I don’t die today, is granted and the light switches to green. Lieutenant Muir’s already out the door with men in front of me following soon after. I take several deep breaths as the line starts getting shorter and shorter. Christ, pull it together man. Shit, if I were a braver man like one of those assholes from Easy, I’d probably be puffing up my chest and putting on my war paint to go face whatever's waiting for me on the other side. If I were a better man I’d have already made my peace with what’s likely to happen to me. But I’m not and I haven’t.

I don’t wanna die today, or tomorrow, or at all for that matter. I’ve had this whole plane ride to come to terms with it and I haven’t. Instead I’ve just been staring at the ceiling and praying to a god who hasn’t answered me for the last eighteen years. Guess I don’t know why I thought he’d suddenly pick up the receiver now.

The plane rattles as another plane right beside ours bursts into flames. I catch myself on the wall to keep from slamming into Brooks again. There’s only five of us left and if that fucking guy doesn’t move out of the doorway there’s gonna be four of us left because I’m gonna kill him.
When the fifth guy finally goes, the fourth follows after him, then the third, then Brooks, and then me. I grip the sides of the doorway and jump out just as I have several times before.

One thousand!

Lord, I know I’m going to hell someday and that I’ve asked for a lot of selfish things today, but please don’t let anyone I know think about me too much.

Two thousand!

I know Aunt Lydia’s a pain in the neck for both of us, but don’t let her die either.

Three thousand!

Those guys in Easy need her a lot more than anybody’s ever needed me. If I gotta die today, at least make something good out of it.

Four thousand!

The canopy opens, and the harness yanks me back up while smoke rushes into my lungs. I choked, coughing before whipping around only to find hundreds of other parachutes floating down with me. In a moonlit sky, I saw, instead of stars, fire and the explosions from other planes that have already gone down. German anti-aircraft fire zips past me before striking whatever their target had been.

As I’m falling I think of Toccoa, of Able Company, and the Airborne as a whole. Why the fuck did I sign up for this shit?

Back home I always loved climbing trees and jumping down into the river. I was comfortable enough with heights to be able to jump from the doorway of a plane at Benning. I was just a kid back then, I had childish dreams of fighting behind enemy lines and making a name for myself in the Army. Now I don’t know-

A pop sounds from above me.

As soon as I lifted my head I saw it; a giant gaping hole in the side of the chute. My stomach drops and before I can stop it, I’m falling faster towards the ground. The sharp wind sends me into a spin, causing my eyes to water while in this free fall. I reach up, gripping at the ringing and trying to change the direction. A chill runs down my spine at the sight of the thick forest down below. That’s a direct hit!
The parachute tangles up, causing me to spin even faster.

Christ, focus! The reserve chute! I gotta get to the reserve. I’m not going down in some French tree! There! There’s an open field if I can just change directions. That reserve chute’s not gonna be any good if I hit the ground before I can reach it.

Christ, just reach up! Reach up! Reach up! Wait-!

Branches snap and whip all around me as I'm barreling through them. There’s a sharp stinging pain all over my body; snapped branches scratching and ripping through skin like shrapnel. Everything goes blurry, a groan escapes me as I get yanked back up by the harness once the parachute gets tangled in the trees. My feet are just barely hanging off the ground, and dripping down my face is this thick warm liquid.

I gagged at the sound of rushing water starting to fill my ears. No, no, no, that’s not right.

What happened? I’m so close to the ground I just gotta get down. When I force open my eyes, I winced as everything appeared doubled. My right arm was killing me, blood gushing and pooling at my torn up sleeve. Everything hurts and for some reason my mouth tastes like pennies, every time I spit the taste only gets worse.

My knife, I gotta get my knife and cut myself down. I reach and find that it’s no good. The harness then! My left hand was scratched up, but it's good enough to use without it bleeding worse. I slammed my fist into the center of the harness only for the damn thing not to budge.

I’m stuck here, stuck here in this fucking tree and nobody’s coming to help me. Fine, I’ll just get my bag and see what I can do about my arm. As long as I can get the bleeding to stop I’ll give myself enough time to regain some energy and think my way out. With my vision blurred I had to feel around for my bag, digging inside what I thought was my medical bag I grasped around at the first thing I could feel. When I pulled it out I squinted and frowned. 

 It’s only a light blue hair ribbon. I clenched it in my fist, but didn't dare put it down. My eyelids are starting to slip, the corners of my vision starting to fade in and out.

Nearby I can hear the sound of twigs snapping underneath heavy footsteps. I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the ribbon closer to my chest. God I thought we had a deal, man, fuck! There’s mutterings coming from that direction too and I can’t hear well enough to tell if it’s in English or German. I blinked back the water that was starting to well up in my eyes and clenched my jaw. Whoever’s there is getting closer. I don’t have much time to accept what's about to happen.

They might as well just get it over with. I don’t like being kept waiting. If it’s gonna happen, if I’m really gonna die, I’d rather them just get it over with fast. Even thinking about it made my heart start to pound. I placed the ribbon on my heart, huffing out a breath as my lip began to wobble.

“I’m sorry, Els. This ain’t looking too good, fuck-.. Take care of Ma, yeah?” I muttered. Maybe if I spoke what I was thinking she’d be able to hear me and she’d know that I'm sorry and that I tried. I hope Ma and Jo know I’m sorry… and Aunt Lydia, I hope she knows that too.

The footsteps finally stopped.

“Monroe?” Someone whispers. “Monroe!? Shit, it is you. Hold on, Dylan!”

Nashville, Tennessee-
July 23rd, 1937

Two hands wrestle me down to the ground, their fingernails gripping harshly at my arms. I grit my teeth, raising my head just in time to see him pull back and punch me square in the nose. I cried out, choking as blood began to leak down my mouth and spill onto my shirt. He hits me again. My head snaps to the right from the impact. 

“Will stop!” Jo begs, scrambling towards me only to get shoved over by Randall, a ginger teen just on the cusp of being an adult. 

His two friends, Isaac and Tom, let me go and backed up as Will steps forward. I flinched back, trying to get out from underneath him only for a flash of hot white pain to bleed through my vision. A screams rips from my throat as he slams his heel and grinds it into the bones in my hand. "Stop, stop, stop, please stop- Get off me!" I shouted at him. I bit down on my lip, sniffling as I tried to tug my hand back. Will only relents when he sees thick tears start to pour down my cheeks. 

“What a cry baby,” Isaac cackles, clutching his stomach and turning towards him. He had dark hair and a vile smell wafting off him from the heat. Will ignores him and scoffs at the look of me, an ugly sneer makes its way onto his face as he smoothes back his greasy brown hair and kicks me in the stomach. I flinched and rolled into a ball as best I could. 

 “I told you not to be a hero, idiot. Stay out of my way,” He spat. “I’m telling ma!” I shouted at him, wiping at my mouth with my arm.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, shaking out his fist. “She ain’t gonna do shit, kid. You oughta know better getting involved in my business. I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone,” He snaps back, kicking me in the side. I sniffled and tried to stop crying. Will's kicks themselves weren't what left bruises. He's kicked me loads of times barefoot and in socks, but it was the pair of boots he wore that hurt the most. They'd been dad's and now here he was wearing them around. 

He might look like him, but he’ll never be half the man he was.

I clenched my jaw and raised myself up on my elbows when I saw Will walking back towards Jo. He smirks, grabbing her by her hair before shaking her around. His stupid friends were just watching, laughing at her as she tried not to cry. “Come on, girlie, I know you got money. Hand it over,” Will smirks, lowering his face in front of hers. That jerk!

Shooting up off the ground, I ran up and shoved him off of her. Will snaps around, trying to shake me off but I grapple around him and slam my fist repeatedly into his ribs. One of his stupid friends grips the back of my shirt and tears me off him, sending me falling back onto my back. The angry snarl on Will’s face twists as he steps towards me again.

Jo rises, her eyes widening in outrage. She raises up her skirt before slamming her heel down on Will’s foot. As he yelps and staggers back, she slaps him right across the face. “You bitch!” He growls. She frowns, reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of dollars. “Take the money, just leave me alone!” She shouts before throwing the money on the ground. Will scowls, gearing up like he was gonna hit her. Eventually he lowers his fist and snatches up the money before storming off down the street with his friends following closely in toe.

He doesn’t even spare me a glance.

Jo’s anger fades into worry as soon as she sees me. She rushes to my side, and helps me back up onto my elbows. “Dylan, are you alright!? I-I’m so sorry, I should’ve just-,” She begins, her soft brown curls all tangled up from the way Will had grabbed her. She then helps me to my feet, as I wipe my nose on my shirt. “Don’t apologize for that jerk. You shouldn’t have given him the money. You worked hard for it,” I huffed, spitting more blood onto the ground.

Her expression softens at that and she then reaches into her bag to pull out a handkerchief. “But he was hurting you? Who cares about the money, I can always make some more,” Jo responds back just as snappy. I frowned and took the handkerchief from her; instantly dirtying it with my blood. “Well I care, Jo! Jerks like him shouldn’t just get to do whatever they want and get away with it,” I argued. I was sniffling again, so I wiped my eyes and bit down on my lip. She was still watching me.

“You’re crying,” She whispers.

“Am not,” I scoffed, spinning around in the opposite direction.

The blood was still dripping from my nose. It must’ve been really gross from the way it was smeared all over my shirt and arms.  Unsurprisingly Jo didn’t flinch at the sight of me. She just pats me on the shoulder, insisting she help walk me back to Ma’s shop.

I don’t need her help, I could walk just fine on my own, but she’s already walking that way even despite my grumbled refusals. If it were up to me I’d rather go over to her house, I don’t wanna go back home and tell Ma I broke our promise again.

Jo and I continue shuffling down the street. We pass by several open shops with kids and the workers all hid away trying to escape the heat. The sun was out at its fullest and it was absolutely miserable. Sweat was pooling on my back and stinging my busted up face. I hate summer. It’s hot and sticky and buzzing with dumb mosquitos. If I had it my way I’d live up north with Aunt Lydia in New York where the air’s cooler and it’s far away from ugly older brothers. Tennessee sucks anyway, what’s it got that New York doesn't? I wouldn’t miss this place one bit if I got the chance to leave.

I’d miss Ma and Elsie though.. Jo too.

“Thank you for… you know, jumping in like that,” Jo mumbles after a while of us walking in silence. I shrugged as we rounded the corner towards our street. “Eh, don’t worry about it. You were the one to get him to leave anyway. I just got beat up,” I replied. Her lips quirk up slightly at that, but her expression falters and her eyebrows knit together. She focuses her stare onto the sidewalk, her lips pressing tightly as she opens her mouth to reply only to close it and let her voice trail off. “I got worried when I saw him stomp down on your hand. My papa says not to hit anyone, but I don’t know… it just felt right. He deserved it, I think,” Jo replies, choosing her words carefully for whatever reason. “For a second I thought I’d have to fight ‘em all by myself if you went down,” She adds, a slow grin making its way onto her face.

A laugh escapes me and I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Yeah? You woulda fought my older brother, huh. What, you think you’d have won or somethin’?” I retorted. While Jo could run with the toughest of boys, I had a hard time believing she’d win a fight against a monster like him.

She just smiles at me, her green eyes sparkling in the summer light. I then watch as she rolls back her sleeve revealing her lack of biceps while flexing. “Mhm, you’re gosh darn right I could’ve. One handed too if needed,” She declares confidently. I huffed and turned to face the street ahead, “No way, you’d need at least two hands for that.”

“I’d make all those boys sorry for messing with us,” She said.

“I’m sure you could, Jo,” I grinned.

The door bell chimes above the house as we walk in. Our living room looked as though it had been ransacked by a twister of dresses and fabrics. Ma wasn’t the only seamstress in town, but she was by far one of the best and it always showed in the way our house looked. Not even our dinner table escaped the mess. I stepped over a bundle of clothes and listened to see if she was in, hoping that she was out running some deliveries to the neighbors. 

Just as I was rubbing my bloody arm on my pants, Ma rounds the corner and wipes her hands on her apron. Not even a second passes before she’s looking at us and shrieking in horror. “Oh my goodness, Dylan! Oh you poor dear, are you hurt?” She asks frantically, yanking off her sewing glasses and throwing them into one of the baskets on the floor. I grimaced as she cradled my face in her hands and dragged me over into the kitchen.

"Nah, I ain’t hurt. The blood just got there by itself,” I huffed as I was sat down at the table.

Jo shuffles in beside me, taking a seat as she anxiously clenches the fabric of her skirt. She shakes her head at my response, covering her mouth with a hand. She wasn’t fooling me, I could see that grin. Ma didn’t look nearly as amused. “Not funny,” She retorts before diving into the drawers in search of a wash cloth.

She pulls up a chair in front of me and gently rubs at my face with the cloth. The sharp look in her eyes softens as she examines the state of me underneath all the blood. “Oh goodness, you’re poor little face,” I hear her whisper. Jo snickers and I feel my ears start to burn.

“It ain’t little,” I grumbled. The corners of her mouth rise and she manages a tight lipped smile. “Sure, honey. Come on now, hold still for me,” She replies.
I did what she said and tried to hold as still as I could. Though I couldn’t help the wince that escaped me as she grasped the bridge of my nose and started feeling around it. “Can you breathe okay?” She asked. At my nod she continues running her calloused fingers around the sides and bottom of my nose. “Good, well it doesn’t feel broken,” She determines. That was a relief I guess.

Just as Ma says that, tiny footsteps come tapping down the hallway.

 “What’s broken?” Elsie asks.

She rounds the corner and waddles over when she sees me and Jo sitting there. Ma exhales deeply and scoops her up into her lap. She tilts her head curiously at the sight of my face, her braid swishing from side to side with a light blue hair ribbon wrapped in it.

Elsie was only six and looked nothing like the rest of us. Ma and I had auburn hair, a passed down trait from her dad- my grandfather who I never met. Our eyes were hazel like her mother’s- my grandmother who I also never met. Will and Dad both had dark brown hair and dark eyes, a trait from dad’s father and his father’s father and so on. Elsie had none of those traits. She was blonde like our Aunt Lydia, but had soft blue eyes they were completely her own.

“Nothing, baby,” Ma finally replies. “Josephine, dear, would you mind tossing this in the sink for me and fetching me that pack of beef from the refrigerator?” She asks gently. Jo nods, desperate to help and runs off without another word.

Elsie stares up at me and inches her little hand towards my cheek, I leaned forward for her. She pats it gently, still blinking up at me. “What happened to your face?” She asked. Ma looks at me closely, her eyes narrowed in concern. “That I’d also like to know. What happened today, huh? I thought I told you to keep out of trouble,” She asks, keeping her voice down.

I swallowed and glanced down at my scrapped palms. We’ve had this conversation before and it never gets any easier. “I did- or I tried to, but he’s just a-... I don’t know. She was getting mugged and picked on, the guys didn’t look like they were gonna leave her alone so I jumped in to help,” I tried to explain. Ma shrieks, whipping around just as Jo gets back with the beef. “You got mugged!?" She gasps. Jo flashes me a glare before handing off the beef.

“I wasn’t getting mugged, they wanted my money and when I told them no they started getting aggressive,” She explains further.

“Sounds like a mugging to me, Jo,” I huffed.

“What’s a mugging?” Elsie asks innocently.

Ma exhales deeply at the three of us and presses the cold pack of beef to my face before giving me a look. “Her name’s Josephine, dear,” She corrects, raising my chin with her forefinger and thumb. Everyone else might call her that, but to me she’ll always just be Jo and I’m not switching it up now. The dread on Ma’s face deepens when Jo sits back down. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, sweetie?” She asks her, her voice gentle as she examines her scuffed up hands and tangled hair.

I turned and watched Jo pick at the sleeves of her blouse and fidget with the buttons. “I don’t really know to be honest, I had just gotten out of church and stopped somewhere because I was hungry. Then after I paid and left, those guys came out of nowhere and started pestering me about the money I had on me. I walked away but they followed me all the way to Orange St. Nobody was out there at the time so one of them grabbed me by the hair and started demanding the money instead. Dylan arrived shortly after and… yeah, that’s what happened,” She told her.

The look on Ma’s face tightens, she guides Jo’s hands away from her blouse and squeezes them gently. “Who grabbed you by your hair? Don’t worry, we’ll go straight over to the police and have them look for those men,” She states, eyes sharp with determination.

Jo wasn’t gonna say who. She looks downwards at the floor, avoiding Ma’s stare. Maybe it was harder for her, but if she won’t I will.

“Dylan and his stupid friends,” I blurted out.

Silence swept the room for roughly five minutes as Ma chokes and stares at Jo in horror. “Oh my goodness,” She utters, tears beginning to build in her eyes. What happened to us getting the police? That’s what she said she was gonna do.

Instead she turns towards the door and swallows. Elsie’s looking between all of us in confusion. She was still just a little too young to understand all this. I hope the day never comes where she finds out the hard way. “Josephine, I am so so sorry. If there’s anything I can do please-,” Ma begins. Jo smiles awkwardly and squeezes her hands, still remaining so kind after everything. “I-It’s alright, Ms. Evelyn. Me and Dylan already handled it so it’s okay,” She says.

Handled it is certainly a word for it.

Despite her words, Ma's expression doesn’t change. She picks up Elsie and places her down so she can stand. “You’re right, and I’m very proud of you both. Your papa was calling for you earlier, honey. Why don’t you go check in with him and send him over later so me and him can talk, okay?” She suggests. I didn’t want Jo to go, but she stood and picked up her bag from off the table. “Sure! Mama’s cooking tonight so maybe you guys can have dinner with us,” She smiles. Ma seemed to like that idea, a brief tight-lipped smile appeared as she walked her to the door. “That sounds excellent, you’ll be alright walking home by yourself?” She asks. Jo lives across the street from us, I don’t think she’s gonna run into any trouble.

Before she leaves, Jo turns towards me as she rubs the nap of her neck. “You should bring your guitar later- only if you want to of course. I'd like to hear you play,” She asks me, smiling shyly.

Now that sounded like a plan!

“Sure, yeah,” I replied, swallowing my excitement. I must not have done a very good job because she laughs at me and makes her way out- not before saying goodbye to Elsie and ma. The doorbell chimes as she opens the door and shuts it behind her.

As soon as she’s gone Ma’ smile falters. She runs a calloused hand down her face and places another against the door. Elsie pops up in front of me, her eyes widening with intrigue. “Did you get into a fight?’ She asked. I huffed and leaned back in my chair. “What do you think?” I retorted. For a girl her age she sure does take interest in a lot of odd things. “I don’t know,” She answers honestly, making me laugh.

Ma rejoins us at the table and pets her hair with a delicate hand. “Elsie, honey, go to your room for just a second, okay?” She asked.

That didn’t sound like the praise I was expecting. 

Elsie pouts at being sent away and reluctantly waddles back to our room without further complaint.

When it’s just me and Ma, she takes my hands and looks up at the ceiling. There were tears building in her eyes again. “Dylan, you have to stop getting into fights with your brother,” She whispers. I froze completely, scoffing and moving to pull my hands back. “I didn’t get into a fight with him, he punched me in the face! He even had his friends hold me down,” I argued. Her hands remain on mind and she squeezes them before looking at me with desperation.

“If you wouldn’t butt heads with him-,” She starts.
My eyes widened with outrage. “He was hurting Jo!” I shouted.

“Josephine,” Ma corrects again. I scowled and watched as she bit her tongue and glanced out the window with a deep inhale. When she faces me again her expression is softer, a tear rolls down her face as she lowers to my level. “You have such a good heart, honey, and I’m very proud of you for protecting your friend… but that’s not what I’m talking about. You know you egg him just to pick fights. Last night at dinner you were antagonizing him-,” She says, choosing her words carefully.

“He was being rude to you,” I interjected and lowered my volume.

“And I can handle that by myself, honey. It’s not your job to worry about that stuff. You need to learn when to let someone else handle it. Will’s just-... he’s just been running with the wrong crowd right now. This is just a thing he’ll grow out of one day and I don’t want this little phase to tear our family apart,” She sighs. I frowned, biting the inside of my cheek before tearing my hands away from her. “What happened to you going to the police? This isn’t fair. If it were any other guy you would have. You should’ve seen him. He was grinning the whole time he was beating on Jo, I think-.. I think you give him too much slack,” I confessed.

Ma’s eyes softened and she pressed a hand to my cheek. I didn't pull away and find that my vision was starting to blur. “Is that really what you think, honey?” She asks me.

I swallowed and looked down at my lap. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.

She leans forward and presses her forehead against mine. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry he hit you. I just-... I don’t know what to do, baby,” She whispers. I wiped at my face and couldn’t help but scoff.
“Don’t apologize for him, Mama. Jo does it too and I’m sick of it. He didn’t say sorry when he was rude to you last night, or when he was mugging Jo, or when he snapped at Elsie for stumbling onto his side of the room, or even to me for all the times he hit me. He’s fifteen for pete's sake, if I stop fighting him then he’ll think he can just get away with it,” I told her firmly.

Ma closes her eyes as a tear runs down her face. She then pulls her hand away from my cheek and wipes her eyes with her apron. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Our family’s been through enough as it is, Dylan. Will’s bigger than you, baby, you’re only eleven years old. Next time he starts being mean to Jo I want you to come get me and I’ll take care of it,” She tells me. “Okay?”

I bit the inside of my cheek as my lip started wobbling. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” I sniffled. I turned angrily towards the ground.
So what if Will’s bigger, I’ll just be stronger than him. One day when I get bigger I’ll kick him outta here so hard he’ll never wanna come back again. That’ll show him for messing with my family.

Ma wraps her arms around me and pulls me in close. “Oh honey, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. I just hate seeing you get hurt,” She cooed softly in my ear. My jaw clenches at the sound. It’s not alright, I haven’t done enough to make any of this alright yet. “You’ve got such a good head on your shoulders, honey, you’re just like your daddy in that way. You did a good thing sticking up for Josephine when you saw she was in trouble, but I don’t want you getting hurt in the process. All I ask is that instead of fighting back you go and find an adult next time. Sometimes the right thing is letting other people handle it when you can’t,” She tells me.

But I can handle it. Will hit me over and over again and still couldn’t break my nose. If Ma and Elsie can’t handle him, then I can and I'll do it willingly. It felt like the right thing to do; rushing in to help Jo. It should’ve been the right thing, but she disagrees. The idea of letting someone else handle Will didn’t sit right. Ma brushes away my tears with her thumb and stands.

“If I can’t stop him, who can?” I asked her.

She pauses, her eyebrows knitted together in consideration as she smoothes her apron down. It only takes a few minutes before she responds. “Only God can change a person’s heart, Dylan. He’ll guide Will to a brighter path one day, I promise. On Sunday I'll pray for him, and after that we’ll just have to give the lord time,” She replies, giving me a gentle smile. I wanted to say that I thought she was wrong, but she would’ve had none of it.

I think she’s wrong about him. Dad raised us to stick up for the ladies because we’re stronger than them, saying that it’s just the way it works. He would be disappointed to see what Will’s become. If he had seen Will beating on Jo like that he would’ve sent him flying into next week, I know it. I think one day Will’s gonna mess up bad enough that Ma’s not gonna be able to excuse it anymore. He’s past God now and with Dad not here to stop him, it’s gotta be me… or maybe the guys he used to work with. They’ll bring over the firetruck and hose him down, maybe that’ll rinse out whatever’s wrong with him.

Ma steps towards me and kisses my hair. I gagged and pulled away from her, causing her laugh. That felt a little nicer. “I have to run some clothes to the neighbors down the street, think you can handle the shop for me?” She asks. Not exactly how I wanted to spend the rest of my evening, but I agreed anyway just to make her happy.

Elsie waddles back into the room, obviously having been snooping during that whole conversation. Ma kisses her head too, making her giggle and pull away just like me. The doorbell rings behind her as she leaves. When she’s gone, Els climbs up on the chair she had been sitting in with minimum difficulty. “So you got into a fight with Will?” She asks curiously. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest. “You heard all that?” I asked.

She nods eagerly; she’d make a rotten spy with that kind of response. “It was kinda hard not to,” She retorts. Fair enough I guess, I wasn't really trying to be quiet about it.
“Hm, sorry about that,” I muttered. She just grumbles and crosses her arms over her chest just like I’m doing.

“What did you fight about?” She asks, annoyed that I wasn’t telling her.

I humored her, but left out some of the details she was probably too young to understand. I don’t want Elsie asking Ma what bitch means. “He was being mean to Jo, so I kicked his butt,” I told her. She starts laughing, a second strike to my ego and pride today. “No you didn’t,” She says.

“Maybe I did,” I retorted back.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

Elsie pouts and turns towards the window. I couldn’t help but smirk at her behavior. For only six she was awfully sassy. Dad would be proud I bet.

Suddenly she blinks and reaches into her hair and pulls out her hair ribbon. “Hey, what are you doing? You know I can’t help you put that back in, right?” I frowned. She doesn’t stop and instead sticks out her hand for me to grab the light blue ribbon from her.

“You weren’t very lucky,” She states, as if that makes any sense.

“What?” I scoffed. “For good luck, so next time you get into a fight you’ll be lucky,” Elsie declares.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her extended offer. “Isn’t green meant for good luck?” I smirked. She instantly denies this and takes my hand with her little one and puts the ribbon in it. “It’ll give you good luck and protection from baddies,” She states. I lunged forward and started tickling her. “Oh yeah? What do you know about baddies?” I asked her, snickering to myself as her laughter echoes throughout the house.

By the time our laughter fades she takes a moment to catch her breath.

“The good guys have to stop the baddies. It’s just how things work,” She answers. I could feel the smile sliding off my face as she hops down and runs off someplace else.

That’s how things are supposed to work, right? Dad always said that. For every bad man there’s always a good one out there made to stop ‘em. Five years of work trying to keep our family together, only for six years to pass and for it all to have been for nothing. In my head I can still hear Will’s nasty snarl as he says, “Don’t be a hero, idiot.” I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not so sure I believe Elsie or Dad anymore.

Stomping comes from outside, when I glance out the window I see a shadow. The next thing I know the doorbell clatters to the ground as the door’s slamming behind it.

Normandy, France-
June 6th, 1944

I opened my eyes and instead of seeing a bunch of krauts, I saw what looked like my buddy Hall. His mouth was moving but the sound didn’t reach my ears. Everything sounded like it was underwater. I slid the tip of my tongue over my chapped lips and frowned at the metallic taste in my mouth. It's so dark out here, but eventually sound was restored and all I heard was the sound of gunshots ringing out in the distance. They were ripping from what sounded like a machine gun. There would be a pause for only a minute before they started up again.

“Shit, Monroe. Come on, man, wake up,” He whispered frantically.

“Hall?” I groaned.

“There you go, yeah it’s me, buddy. Stay still, alright? We’re getting you down,” Hall replies. He sighed in relief like he were the one getting cut down from a tree. "Get me down any slower and I'll be here till sunrise," I remarked, causing him to laugh. Boy was I glad to see him. 

Beside Hall was a tall ginger man. Although it hurt to twist my neck around, I caught a glimpse of him tearing through the rigging with his knife. In the dark I couldn't recognize him. He definitly wasn't with Able though. Finally I dropped to the ground and started trembling at the feel of earth underneath my boots. The urge to pull out a smoke was immediate. I exhaled deeply and glanced down at Elsie's hair ribbon still clenched in my palm. Without a second I stuffed it back into my musette back. “Who’s that?” I turned to Hall.

The man who cut me down lowers close to the ground. “Lieutenant Winters, Easy Company,” He introduces himself quickly.
Shit.
“You with Able?” He asked me.

I nodded and flinched downward as a barrage of artillery went off nearby. “Yes, sir, Private Monroe, sir,” I told him. Hall grabs my right arm and twists it towards him. I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. “Shit, where’s your medkit?” He asks me quickly. It was bleeding like crazy, far worse than the wound on my head. With my good arm I shoved him away and reached for the other small beige bag around my chest. "Get off, I'll work on it while we're moving, alright?" I snapped under my breath. He gives me an uncertain look, but takes his hand away and nods. 

God must’ve heard my prayers, because it’s only a miracle I survived that fall and wasn’t found by any krauts. It’s either that or I just got really lucky. I guess it doesn’t matter. The point is I’m not interested in pushing my luck, so I’d rather get on the move and get the hell out of here.

I snapped off my harness and grabbed my pack to fetch my M-1. That stupid leg bag must still be up there in the trees so that’s no chance in getting that back.

“Both of you follow me,” Lieutenant Winters whispers. I gave an affirmative nod and followed in line beside Hall as we made our way deeper into the woods. I have no idea where we are, only that if Easy Company’s here we are most definitely in the wrong drop zone.

We walked with our heads and bodies low to the ground, I reached into the brown bag and pulled out the medkit I'd been reaching for earlier. In my head I could hear Lieutenant Sterling's instructions clear as day. She was a pain in the ass, always bitching about one thing and another, but she knew her stuff. Before we jumped she traveled about fifty yards away from Easy to hook me up with a bag full of fairly decent medical supplies. She shoved it into my hands when nobody else was looking and ran away without saying a word. I still don't know why she gave it to me or if she was even allowed to. I didn't have time to ask her though, and she never did want to talk unless it was work related. 

After ripping open a sulfa packet, I sprinkled it on my arm before slapping a bandage on top of it. I swiveled around and kept an eye as best I could on our surroundings while I worked. After I'm done, I tied off the end of the bandage with my teeth before taking up my M-1 and fall into position. 

 Only for a split second do I wonder if she made it out okay, before getting back to it. 

A flinch courses through me as the littlest of touches nudges at my shoulder. I snapped around and shot a glare at Hall who was now standing beside me. The bastard didn't even pretend to look sorry. “Are you alright? What happened?” He asked me, keeping his voice down. Although a really stupid question I didn’t have the energy to snap back with something overly sarcastic like normal. “After I got out off the plane, I only made it a few minutes in the air before getting hit. Then everything went really fast and I was falling and spinning. I tried slowing myself down, but there just wasn't enough time. As I was trying to pull away into an open field, I guess I crash landed and caught a few snapped branches on the way down. I think I’ll be alright though, my arm was the worst of it but I got the bleeding to stop,” I muttered. He hums in understanding and spins around to keep an eye on our leftward surroundings.

“Lucky you guys were there when you were. I thought y’all were krauts,” I added.

Hall releases a huff. “Luckiest bastard in Normandy,” He says. 

Lieutenant Winters glances back towards me. "Didn't your jump instructor teach you to pull your reserve chute if your main one malfunctioned, Private?" He asked me. I frowned and clenched my teeth while glaring into the back of his skull. "He did," I bit back. "I just couldn't reach it." Hall snickers at my misfortune and shakes his head. I didn't bother listening to what Winters had to say next. He might be a lieutenant but he ain't my lieutenant. 

“So you’re both with Able company then,” He states, stupidly in my opinion. Before I can respond, Hall replies for us. “Yes, sir, guess that means one of us is in the wrong drop zone, huh sir?” He states. I rolled my eyes at his boot licking but opted to ignore it in favor of keeping an eye on the woods around us.

"Yeah, or both of us,” Winters replies.

I readjusted the grip on my rifle and felt an ache in my legs as I moved. Stopping's completely out of the question, but that fall hurt like a bitch. Later if I get the opportunity to rest, I probably need to do a better medical evaluation on myself. I tried to to imagine how Sterling would've done it, but quickly shook away the thought. Thinking of her at a time like this was a one way ticket to getting shot for not paying attention. I focued on Winters walking a few steps ahead of us. She's a lieutenant too, I imagine they know each other. I couldn't see them being friends. If those guys know what's good for 'em they'll stay the hell away from her. 

Now that I'm really looking at him he does look kinda familiar. I mean of course he does, he's Easy Company, but I feel like I know him from somewhere. It then hits me as I glance down at the ground. Unlike the earthy soil here in Normandy, back in Toccoa the ground was dusty red clay. Back then in training they had that black-haired angry guy running Easy; Captain Sobel I think his name was. That son of a bitch mistook me for another guy in his company. Who knows how he managed that considering I don't look anything like those guys, but he started chewing me out for 'skipping out on training' nonetheless. It was Winters and some other dark haired guy who got him off my case. I'm not sure what happened to Sobel, all I heard was that there was a situation and that now some guy named Meehan is running the joint.

“Do you have any idea where we are, sir?” I hear Hall ask.

“Some. So you’re a radio man?” Winters replies.

As we’re walking they continued to mutter amongst themselves, leaving me completely out of the loop. For two guys from different companies they sure do talk pretty friendly. I overheard Hall mentioning how he lost his radio during the jump. What kind of radioman loses his radio for fucks sake? I huffed and shook my head before glancing around at our surroundings. He's damn right our platoon leader's gonna chew him out for it. Now that's a guy you don't wanna fuck up around. 

Winters to my surprise didn't chew him out and instead said something about him being a radioman second and a rifleman first. Maybe he's not as bad I thought.

“Locate some landmarks to get our bearings,” He instructs. I was already doing that, but okay. "Keep your eyes peeled for buidlings.. farm houses.. bridges.. roads.. trees." I huffed out a short laugh and glanced at him. It's so dark out that all I could see were trees. The machine gun fire was still a constant sound. Each time a string of shots went off I felt myself flinch and duck lower to the ground. I really hope I can get used to that sooner or later.

At some point it becomes clear to me that we're lost. None of us can fucking see, and as far as I can tell this is way off course from the maps we were shown during the briefing. "I wonder if the rest of them are as lost as we are?" Hall vocalizes my concern. I grimaced and ran a hand down my face, it came back wet and sticky with blood. In response Winters replies, “We’re not lost, Private. We’re in Normandy."

Who knew D-Day was what drew out his sense of humor.

As we're walking, I stepped towards Hall and nudges his shoulder. He whips around and nearly jumps out of his boots at the sudden touch. I bit my cheek to prevent myself from laughing at him. Serves him right for doing that to me first.

"You know him?" I asked curiously, nodding towards Lieutenant Winters.

He nods in response, exhaling as he checks our surroundings again while we get lower to the ground. "Mhm, he was my basketball coach, remember? You might not considering everytime I tried dragging you along with me you refused," He said, grinning slightly. I snickered quietly to myself as I recalled those days. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm 5 '8, alright? What am I gonna do in a basketball game? Nip at the tall guys' legs?" I retorted. 

In my head it felt like those days were just a week ago. Back then in Toccoa it was just me and Hall really. In the beginning I was kind of an asshole, I didn't really seek people out or start any conversations with the other guys. I think I tried to, but it never came out right so I gave up. At some point I just figured that there wasn't any point if either them or me wasn't gonna make it through training. Hall was in the bunk beside mine. Early on he tried introducing himself to me, but I ended that pretty quickly by telling him to fuck off. I was a real prick.. I still kinda am.

That went on for the first two weeks until one day I messed up my ankle going up Currahee. He saw me struggling and helped me the entire way down, even after I'd been nothing but rude to him. After that it was harder to ice him out. He started introducing me to his pals, following me around everywhere, and inviting me to shit. I don't remember the first time I said yes to joining him on one of his odd adventures over the weekend. It just kinda happened once and then it kept happening. Me and him used to frequent the dance halls. I've never been a very good dancer. He'd always get more girls that way. Whenever there was a guitar though I'd best him then.

All I can really remember was that there was a time where I iced everybody out and then there was a time where I didn't and became another one of Hall's pals. 

According to Hall's watch thirty minutes have passed and we're not any closer to figuring out where we are. Later into our search we came across the sound of rushing water, it ended up leading us to a river. I peered around carefully, swallowing and clenching the grip on my rifle. With the river being as loud as it was it made it harder to hear any footsteps. For all I know there could be a kraut passing on the otherside of that river and I'd have no idea until it's too late. A snap that definitly didn't come from one of us sounds from across the river; bringing my fears to life. 

Winters crouches down and holds position behind a bundle of bushes and low hanging trees. Hall remains in front of me, his eyes wide as he attempts to peer over the lieutenant’s shoulder. Our attempt at using one of the crickets goes unheard and has him raising his rifle. I followed, keeping my breathing as steady as possible as I focused my sights on whatever moved.

A splash comes from the river. It definitely sounds like footsteps. Not just a pair either, there’s multiple.

I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and prepared for whatever I was gonna have to do, when suddenly I heard- “Lieutenant Winters? Is that you?”

Oh thank God.

From out of the water a sergeant from Easy Company appears and starts talking with him. Two other men followed and were later revealed to be guys from 82nd. Christ, either their pilots were way off target on their drop zones or we all were. 

Hall curses and nudges my shoulder, “Man, 82nd? Where the hell are we?”

“Does it look like I know?” I shot back.

The sergeant gestures back past the river after catching his breath and wiping off his hands. "Sir, I saw a sign back thataways. It said Sainte-Mere-Eglise," He reveals. Then all of a sudden Winters kneels down and starts reaching towards his crotch. I snapped my gaze away only to catch him later pulling out a compass and asking around for a raincoat and a flashlight. I frowned and glanced at Hall who seemed unphased. I was apparently not the only one with such a reaction, because those 82nd boys looked just as bewildered. 

Winters’ ducks his head under the raincoat and pops back up after only a few seconds.

“We’re about seven kilometers away from our objective and only four hours away from when we need to have it secured. So.. we got a lot of walking ahead of us,” He states. His direction is then turned towards us and the 82nd guys. “You men will stick with us until you find your unit.”

My frown sharpens at that revelation. I didn’t want to spend more time with Easy Company than I had to. This was really pushing it. I think I’d rather still be stuck in that tree than remain with them for more than a couple hours. How the hell did these routes get so mixed up? So far I haven’t seen anybody else from my plane. Hall was on another one so just where the hell was I meant to go?

We start picking back up and the sergeant’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. He turns back to face one of the 82nd guys and speaks with such determination I couldn’t help but listen.

We’re headed for Causeway #2, Utah Beach. The Germans ended up flooding the fields inland, and he says, “If we don’t clear those roads our boys aren’t goin’ nowhere.” If we don’t do our job, they can’t do theirs. It’s obvious, stress-inducing for sure, but realizing it now it started to connect in my head. During the briefing we were all told the plan for D-Day, but back then it had just been a bunch of points on a board. Now it felt like all the strings were being connected. The sergeant was right, if we don’t hurry up soon then things are just gonna get more held up.

Later we come across a railroad and find even more Easy Company guys. I scowled, there were seven of them now and still only two of Able. Worst of all I know that Philly guy with the sharp jaw line. He had short brown hair and dark eyes in this light. Guarnere I think his name was. Foolishly I had hoped I wouldn't have to see him or that tanned muscley guy with the deep voice ever again. I glanced over at the chatty ginger with the thin smile greeting Winters and the sergeant. Beside him was some other southern guy that wasn't the sergeant we found at the river. I watched as they all shook each others hands and greeted one another. They were obviously all happy to see each other after the jump.

Something in my stomach twisted at the sight of them. I turned around, about to mutter something to Hall when a gap opens up and a familar face appears among them. 

Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

She spots me immediately, her stare hardening as she examines my face. Winters, the bastard, greets her and nods towards me. “Sterling, good to see you. This is Private Monroe, he’s with Able, he crash landed into a tree during the jump. You wanna take a look at him?” He asks.

Please say no, please say no, please say no-

Lieutenant Sterling steps towards me, her lips pressed neatly into a firm line. “Winters, good to see you. Mhm, I'll work on the move. I don't see anything in need of dire attention," She replies, her tone bitter as he grabs my chin and twists my head around to look at her. He nods and moves up front, ordering Guarnere and Hall up front as we start walking again.

Me and Lydia get pushed in the middle of the group as we walk along the train tracks. The entire time she's poking and proding at my forehead, everytime I wince and jerk away from her she rolls her eyes and starts bitching.

"Get off, it's not that serious. I handled the worst of it after I got down," I grumbled. Her grip tightens on my chin as she tugs my face closer towards the little moonlight we had. "Oh I'm sure you did," Lydia remarks. "Hold still for christ's sake. Jesus, did you plan on hitting all the branches on the way down? You’re covered in scratches,” She then hisses.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I bit back, pulling away again. “My chute got hit.”

“And you have a reserve, one you obviously didn’t use. What kind of paratrooper doesn’t go for their reserve?” She snaps, leaving my face alone and instead opting to check my neck and hands. I rolled my eyes and huffed. "I was caught in a spin obviously. I didn't have time to reach, it alright? Shit, you act like I planned on getting shot outta the sky," I spit back. Her glare narrows as she steps back, clearly done with her assessment. "You didn't have time to reach it?" She repeats in disbelief. "The reserve was right there by your pack."

She doesn't check my arm yet and I'm not about to tell her about it just so she could have another thing to shout at me over. I could see some of the men looking over at us. It wasn't clear who it was, but it didn't take a genius to know they were snickering about us. My ears started to burn, so I fixed my attention back onto her and her lecturing. "You went through the training, Monroe, you should know better. You're lucky Lieutenant Winters was there when he was, otherwise some German soldier would've gotten to you by now. Christ, you're lucky you even passed jump school at all," She grits out, lowering her voice after catching the stares. 

Was she still fucking on about that?

“Are you ever going to let that go?” I hissed, biting back the words I actually wanted to say. Lydia’s stare hardens and she leans in closer. “How can I? You’re a boy playing at being a soldier. It’s either going to get you or someone else killed. You shouldn’t be here,” She snaps. My fists clenched down by my side as she stalked away with her head held high and her braid swishing behind her.

“Says you,” I muttered under my breath.

Toccoa, Georgia-
July 10th, 1942

“Sulfanilamide, known to you all as Sulfa, must be put on any laceration or deep surface wound before you dress it with bandages. You put it on immediately and quickly to prevent bacteria from spreading and risking the chance of infection. Next, you will either apply your bandage or a tourniquet depending on the severity of the injury,” Second Lieutenant Lydia Sterling instructs from the front of the room.

What the hell is she doing here?

Her eyes are narrowed as she examines the room made up entirely of Able Company. I watch as she paces the room making sharp direct turns, her braid swinging from side to side, and scoffed.

Lydia… my Aunt Lydia… got approval from Colonel Sink to join the paratroopers as a medic and somehow it was completely legal. She passed all the written tests, physical tests, and her meeting with Sink and now she was just allowed in like it was fine. Apparently the guys in Easy Company were just as unhappy with this as I was, but screw them. My reasons were very different from theirs. 

Christ, she was just supposed to be in the Army Nurse Corps. What kind of business does she have in the airborne for fucks sake. That snake, she must’ve been planning this for years, she’s so sure of herself it's obvious. For years she had been keeping this to herself, all right underneath me, Elsie’s, and Ma’s noses.

Back in 39’, a few years after she moved down from New York, she was staying over at ours while looking for a permanent place to live. It was close to the holidays and we were all sitting in the living room folding clothes that were supposed to be picked up the next day. Will was out causing trouble somewhere, and for the time being all was well in the house. Ma had on the radio and Aunt Lydia was sitting beside her talking about the things going on in Europe. Muttering about Hitler, the invasion of Poland, and other such things I didn’t understand or care about at the time. What I did care about was that she was gonna live here permanently while she worked on becoming a Red Cross Reserve Nurse just on the off chance we got dragged into the war. President Roosevelt had won the election on the promise we wouldn't get involved in another war in Europe, but Lydia wasn't entirely convinced. She tended to disregard claims that weren't backed up with facts. 

A few years later she was already extremely accomplished and had made the news after stepping in for some surgeon that passed out in the middle of a complicated surgery. She wasn’t living with us anymore and had moved in with her good friend Winona, she claimed through letters. One time she wrote to Ma telling her that she was working to get involved with the Army Nurse Corps. I thought it was awesome. I thought they should be grateful to have someone as smart and kind as my aunt on their side if a war ever broke out, but that’s not ever gonna happen.

Little did I know two years later Pearl Harbor would get fucking bombed and we’d end up getting in the war after all.

Lydia knew it all before it even really began. She saw it coming before I even considered it a possibility. Everything went dark with her after that. In the last letter she sent, she explained that she was working on something really important and that she wouldn’t be able to write for some time. I figured it had something to do with the army, but I just thought she was getting orders. Instead, she apparently had been writing to Colonel Sink and writing her way into the airborne. So her going quiet was just her not bothering to write to any of us.

What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t too far behind her.

A few months after my sixteenth birthday I saw an ad in one of Elsie’s magazines for the paratroopers. I thought it was bullshit so I marched all the way down to the recruiters office to see for myself. After that I had my mind set; I was gonna become a United States Army Paratrooper. With the help of Jo we forged my papers and after just nearly passing the physical exam I was free to go. It was the illegal way of doing it, but I wasn’t the only one. Hundreds of kids my age all across America were doing the exact same thing. Everyone wanted to fight, serve their country. No amount of writing was gonna get us all in, so we handled it ourselves.

I managed to get in all on my own, but boy did Ma tear me a new one when she found out. She hasn’t spoken or written to me since. Elsie had been more sad than anything, worried that I’d immediately be sent off to war in the middle of nowhere. Apart from Jo, she’s the only one I get letters from. Lydia wasn’t supposed to find out though, she was just supposed to stay in the Army Nurse Corps and do her thing.

If only that were the case.

A week after I arrived in Toccoa I spotted her exiting Battalion HQ, she locked eyes with me and nearly lost it right there on the spot. The look she gave me could’ve burned the entire camp down to the ground, but she didn’t address me there though. Instead she waited a week until I came in with a twisted ankle after going up Currahee. I remember her words very vividly.

“You’ve got no business being here, Dylan! What on earth is some sixteen year old kid from Tennessee gonna do that a grown man can't? You should just wash out and go home, you'd only be a waste of valuable resources. I guarnere in a week's time you'll be packing your bags and heading straight back to your mother anyway. No, I don't want to hear another word! I will not support you if you continue to do this, so choose your next few choices very carefully," She had yelled after kicking Hall out of the room. 

It then became very clear to me that Aunt Lydia and Lieutenant Sterling were two very different people. The aunt who had taught me how to wrap bandages around my head after I got out of the hospital and slipped me candy when I started to cry was not the same woman here with me in Toccoa. She was wrong about me though. I made it pretty far on my own, all without her or Ma's support. So just what the hell was she playing at trying to play medical instructor? She's not even in Able Company!

Beside me an elbow digs into my side repeatedly, I glanced up and shot a glare towards Hall who was looking at me worriedly. This idiot. A couple weeks ago I twisted my foot on a rock going up Currahee and now suddenly he thinks we're best pals. If he knew what’s good for him he would leave me the hell alone.

Hall looks at me and nods his head towards Lydia who was still going on about how to dress a wound properly.

“Come on, Monroe, she’ll snap at you again if you don’t pay attention,” He mutters.

I grumbled and fixed my gaze up at her demonstration, because unfortunately he was right. She was showing us how to dress a wound, but it was such a bore because I already knew how to do this. I was under the impression that her not supporting me meant she’d just leave me alone and ignore me, but no, instead she signed up to start giving first aid classes to all three battalions. Beside her is our company’s medic, he already got lessons on this stuff so she’s just using him for demonstration. I don’t know why our company’s surgeon isn’t the one giving us these lessons. Lydia’s in Easy Company, she oughta just stay the hell there.

“Pay attention to my demonstration, because afterwards you’ll be practicing on the man beside you. I’ll only be explaining this once,” Lieutenant Sterling states firmly. She then mutters something to the other medic and explains to all of us her process all while working with quick, deliberate movements.

This was such a waste of time. I could be working on things that are actually important to my training, but instead I’m stuck here listening to her rattle on about things I already know how to do. I didn’t sign up for the paratroopers to become a nurse like her.

Christ, why did I sign up for the paratroopers in the first place? That stupid ad in the magazine was just supposed to be bullshit, something I could laugh at while walking over to the marines or navy with the guys from school. Even if the army was what I wanted, why did I not just join the infantry like any other guy? That additional pay had to have been it, but it still doesn’t feel right though. Hell, why did Lydia join the-

“Private Monroe, are you paying attention?” The Lieutenant snaps.

My spine nearly shot straight out of my back at the sound of her booming voice.

I snapped upright and turned towards her just as she was headed straight for me and Hall’s row. He flashes me a look of “I told you so,” and I have to fight the urge to punch him in the arm. Instead I swallowed and kept direct eye contact with her. Even though she was my aunt she still outranked me by a lot.

“Yes, ma’am,” I responded through my teeth.

Her lips tighten into a frustrated frown. “Practice on Private Hall then,” She orders.

Easy enough I suppose. Refusing her was completely out of question and sure to get me kicked out of here. I’ll just prove her wrong then. I already know how to do this stuff anyway. When she sees me prove it, she’ll fuck off and leave me alone.

I picked up the bandage on the table and glanced over at Hall who extended his arm on the desk and flashed me an apologetic look. Lydia stands right there in the center of the classroom, her hands on her hips as she stares down at the two of us with a harsh glare. The other guys in Able all shared looks of amusement at the scene and relief that they weren’t the ones getting picked on. Within five weeks of being here she managed to gain the respect of some of the men; Easy Company was the only exception.

“A mortar hit the ground near you and Hall, he’s now got a bloody, thick laceration from the shrapnel to his right arm! Locate it!” Lydia orders, her voice booming. I frowned, huffing as I play-examined Hall’s arm for a spot I could pretend to bandage freely. After finding a random spot, I grabbed the bandage and placed it on his arm. “Wrong, put the sulfa on first! Do you want Private Hall to get an infection and die in the aid station?” She snaps.

“No, ma’am,” I swallowed, clenching my jaw as I started again with this time adding in the sulfa.

As I placed on the bandage she lowered her face in front of mine. “Too slow, Private, he’s bleeding out!” She shouts. As soon as I pick up the pace, she jerks upright and scowls angrily. “Too sloppy, keep your fingers steady and make every movement direct and controlled. That bandage isn’t tight enough!” She orders. I went to fix it again, tried to keep better control of my hands while also remembering the right way to tie it.

My breathing starts to pick up as the snickers from the surrounding soldiers gets louder. Lieutenant Sterling snaps around to face them and glares harshly. “Silence! Watch him and learn, see every mistake he makes and learn from it so you never have to make it yourself. Dressing a wound properly can be the very thing that saves you and the man next to you!” She states. She then lowers again, her eyes meeting mine as I direct my attention back down towards Hall’s arm.

I rebandage it and wrap it tighter each time only to fail and have her yelling in my face to redo it. My face is burning, sweat forming at my forehead as Lydia continues her tirade.

I learned this, I learned this, I learned this…. I know what to do, I-

“For fucks sake, Monroe, you’re giving up!” Lieutenant Sterling scoffs.

“I’m trying my best, ma’am,” I snapped back. “Well your best isn't good enough, Private. Your best is gonna have that young man bleed out, so pick up the pace and keep trying. Dress that wound exactly as I taught you, or were you not paying attention?” She responds, her stare tightening in disapproval. I ignored her and rewrapped the bandage again, all while trying to keep my subtly shaking heads steady. “Why are you shaking? Keep your fingers steady, focus!” She huffs.

I rip off the bandage and redo it once again. I can feel Hall’s eyes on me, I can almost taste the sorry look he’s giving me.

“Still too slow, Monroe!” She shouts.

If they would just stop looking at me like that then I can focus. I know how to wrap a wound, I’ve wrapped plenty of mine all by myself and I’ve never gotten it wrong.

“Sloppy again, is this how you’ll work on a battlefield?”

I’ll do it again! I’ve done this before, I know what I’m doing-

“Are you really just going to give up when things get stressful and hard?”

Again!

“I expected better from you, Monroe,” Lydia states, lowering her voice.

I bolted upright from my chair and slammed the bandages back down on the table. Me and Lydia were standing face to face, her eyes locked on mine as she stared in both annoyance and disapproval. A silence had filled the room at my outburst, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and the sound of my heart beating like a war drum in my chest. I clenched my fists and kept them firmly down by my side.

“Private Hall’s dead. As you were taking your sweet time another mortar went off and shrapnel struck him in the head. You forgot the sulfa in the beginning, you were too slow, you got sloppy when you felt rushed, and worst of all you were unfocused. You failed to save him and that’s on you, Private. 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,” She states, her tone venomous.

I lowered my gaze, biting my tongue as she directed her attention to the class again.

“Your medics can’t be everywhere at once. Behind enemy lines you won’t have immediate access to hospitals and proper medicine. You’re no good to the members of your company if you cannot trust one another to save you when you go down. This is why we have these first aid classes, this is why you all need to be paying attention now rather than trying to play catch up later. Keep practicing, learn the basics, and familiarize yourself with them as much as you can. Am I understood?” Lieutenant Sterling asks, her eyes scanning the faces of the men.

A bunch of “yes, ma’ams” followed as she returned to the front of the room. I said nothing and instead sat down, exhaling deeply through clenched teeth. Hall nudged me with his elbow. I ignored him and ran a hand down my face, scowling at the feel of the indention. As soon as she dismissed us I was out of there before anyone else. Hall followed after me, calling my name while I dug out a smoke from my pack. I stuck it between my lips as I fished around for my lighter only to remember I’d left it back at the barracks.

For fucks sake…

“Monroe, wait up!” Hall calls out.

I huffed and reluctantly slowed my pace, frowning at him as he joined me at my side. “What do you want?” I snapped, mumbling around the smoke. To my surprise he tosses me his lighter. Maybe his presence wasn’t that horrible.. I inhaled deeply and felt the bitter smoke make its way through my lungs after lighting it. “Thanks,” I muttered, tossing it back to him only for him to wave me off.

Hall grinned awkwardly, brushing his short black hair back with his hand.

“For what it’s worth I don’t think you did that bad,” He prefaces.

I couldn’t help but scoff and roll my eyes. “Well according to the lieutenant I’m a worthless piece of shit and a danger to the guys. She’s full of it, I’ll tell you that,” I grumbled. Hall huffs out a laugh in response. “I don’t know, man, Lieutenant Sterling’s a little harsh on everybody. I wouldn’t take it to heart,” He replies. “Easy for you to say, you weren’t the one getting yelled at in front of the entire platoon," I said, taking another drag of smoke as we walked.

Hall doesn't respond to that, instead he examines and flexes the arm I had been practicing on. It was a little red from my repeated ripping and bandaging. “You think she yells at Easy like that?” He asked me.

I didn’t know, I've heard conflicting stories from multiple guys in the platoon. Some say they've started warming up to her; some have claimed they made her cry- no way in hell that one's true; and another rumor, one with the most evidence, that apparently during the third week she got into a fist fight with one of the guys. Nobody's revealed who it was she fought, only that she apparently won. Apart from that there's the more common complaints about how she's a girl and how she'll only distract them and that there's no way she'll be able to stick with the men in combat. If they knew her as I well as I did, they'd know that's all a load of bullshit. Lydia's not the type to chicken out and give up, hence why she's still doing everything in her power to get me to wash out. 

“Lieutenant Sterling doesn’t treat anybody the way she treats me,” I told him.

I’d argue nobody else in the entire 101st gets it as bad as I do. She probably thinks insulting me and yelling in my face is gonna get me to quit, but I don’t think she’s realized that I’m not giving up either. I can hold this stalemate for as long as I have to until she finally accepts that I’m not leaving.

Lieutenant Sterling and Aunt Lydia are two very different people. The lieutenant was reserved, her cards always kept close to her chest. She’s a perfect fit for the army and a talented nurse with a good reputation from Tennessee and New York. Ice cold; no mistakes. Aunt Lydia was reserved too, she was quiet back then but never cruel. Whenever she was over at our house she raised up the spirits and kept Ma from cracking under pressure. Everything felt just a little bit lighter when she was around. She would go out of her way to patch up the neighborhood kids if they came to her with their bruised knees and bloody cuts.

That Lydia wasn’t the one with me here in Tocoa. Sometimes I don’t even recognize her in the lieutenant’s face anymore.

I tossed the remainder of my cigarette into the dirt, and found Hall staring at me.

He grins slightly at my response and looks ahead. “Yeah, probably,” He answers after a while.

I huffed out a laugh and wiped at the sweat building on my forehead. This blistering Georgia heat was far worse than whatever Tennessee used to drum up. I hate Summer, but I don’t think I’d ever go to New York if given the option. I swiped my hand against my brow and glanced at Hall. He was from New York if I remember correctly, Manhattan he might’ve said.

“I don’t know, man, I don’t know why she always seems to have it out for you. Hell half the guys in there weren’t paying attention either,” Hall replies, knocking his shoulder into mine.

“Because she’s a bitch and she wants me to die,” I snapped back, shoving him lightly into the grass.

He laughs, making the tightness in my chest loosen just a little. I can’t tell him the real reason for Lieutenant Sterling treating me differently. If anyone were to find out we were related that would drum up questions that neither of us wanted to answer. It was just one of those things we didn’t talk about. As long as we were in different companies it was fine, but if she keeps getting onto me like that some people are gonna get suspicious.

“She shouldn’t even be here,” I grumbled.

“Heh, yeah, I mean I don’t know. I guess the Colonel brought her in for something. No clue how she did it though,” Hall replies. I rolled my eyes and huffed as he rejoined me on the path.

“Sure, but she’s in Easy. He oughta just have her stay the hell there and mingle with her own guys. I didn’t sign up for the paratroopers just to be stuck inside playing nurse,” I remarked. Hall shrugs and shakes his head with a sigh. “Eh, those classes will be over before you know it. I did tell you to pay attention, you didn’t listen,” He replies smugly.

“Shut the hell up,” I huffed, biting back a grin. “Come on, let's get to chow.”

Normandy, France-
June 6th, 1944

We followed the train tracks for an uncertain amount of time. After Lieutenant Sterling gave her assessment of my injuries to Winters, he ordered me up front with Hall and Guarnere. Thank goodness for that, cause I don't wanna be stuck beside her the entire trip. 

At some point I started learning the names of the men. The sergeant we came across at the river was Lipton, or Lip according to most of the guys. He had short brown hair that looked far darker in this light and kind eyes whenever he spoke to literally anybody. The chatty ginger was Malarkey; Irish, I learned fairly quickly. Joe Toye had been the name of the tan guy with the rough voice and Popeye was the name of the other southern guy that wasn't Lipton. 

Surprisingly enough Lydia actually got along with them. I would occasionally glance back and find her moving up to each man before asking them about their jumps and if they needed anything checked out. She walks up to Toye after having seen his arm all torn up and bloody, and when she convinces him to let her take a look at it I waited.

"Next time put sulfa on it, alright? You're lucky this hasn't gotten anything in it yet," She tells him in a cool tone. He just grumbles, ultimately nodding and muttering a quick "yes ma'am." 

My blood boiled. There wasn't any bickering, harsh insults slung back and forth, or any of the shit she said to me. I tore my eyes away and felt my insides twisting inside me. This is such bullshit. 

I glanced up ahead at Hall and was about to tell him what I just saw, but quickly halted when I found him focusing on the path ahead. He had his grip tight on his M-1 and didn't seem in the mood to listen to me ramble at the moment. With a deep exhale I let it go, and instead turned to my left and saw Guarnere walking beside him. His jaw was tight as he kept his dark eyes peeled on the forest surrounding us. My frown tightened and I forced myself to focus up again. Christ I can't wait until we're back with Able Company. 

Uphead I froze when I heard the sound of a horse whining and a cart rolling in the distance.

Hall pauses, lowering to the ground with his hand raised. We all stopped and watched as Winters ran up front, keeping low as he got up to a fence and held position there. I swallowed thickly and felt my heart pounding in my throat. There were voices and it wasn't clear what they were saying, only that it definitely wasn't English. 

“Lipton, go!” Winters orders, gesturing them forward. “Guarnere.”

We followed in behind them and stopped at a brick wall; the sound of the horses and German getting closer. Me and Hall were pushed up in front, so I quietly lowered and cocked back the hammer pf my rifle in preparation to fire. I glanced back and saw Lydia getting moved back. She was hidden off to the side with her fist clenched around her medical bag. She makes eye contact with me and frowns before gesturing for me to turn back around.

Fine, God forbid I make sure she’s out of the way. I turned back around, and saw Hall right there with me. We made eye contact and I quietly exhaled before finally refocusing on what was ahead.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this… It’s all in the training, I can do this. The cart gets closer and I feel my shoulders tensing up.

“Wait for my command,” Winters tells us.

I placed my finger on the trigger and took another deep breath-

My heart jumped as someone opened fire without warning. In a panic I pulled the trigger and fired at the men on the cart as they wheeled by. They were shouting in German, I swallowed the racing pulse in my throat and fired even as they rose with their hands up. A grenade goes off near the wall by the horse; the explosion rattled my eardrums. It’s all so loud and so quick, but after most of the gun fire settles, I pull my hand off the trigger.

To my right I caught sight of Guarnere.

He was the only one still firing until Winters spun him around.

“That’s enough, Guarnere!” The lieutenant shouts.

I released the breath I was holding and rose to my feet with Hall. In the sergeant’s eyes I saw nothing but pitch black darkness. He looked like a mad man in this light. Had he been the one to shoot first? He must have, based on the way he’s staring down Winters. A shiver creeps down my spine at the look of him. I know it from somewhere, I just can’t quite place it...

“Everyone okay?” I hear both Winters and Lydia ask at the same time. A few mutters of “yes, sir,” and “yes, ma’am,” followed.

Winters then turns back to the sergeant, looking more angry than I’ve seen him so far. “Next time I say wait for my command, you wait for my command, sergeant,” He grits out firmly. Guarnere stares up at him challengingly, before replying bitterly, “Yes, sir.”

Another shot rings out, causing me to jump and twist around in the direction. The horse lets out a cry of pain before going quiet. Toye had been the one to shoot.

Jesus Christ, I can’t wait to get back to Able.

Lipton steps up ahead and hands Winters a kraut weapon. “Here you go, Lieutenant,” He says. Winters nods in thanks and shoots Guarnere one last look before heading forward with the others following after him. “Fine, Quaker,” I hear Guarnere mutter under his breath before moving up some. That fucking look in his eyes, shit. Now I remember where I know it from. Not from Will, no, he was more psycho than angry. Guarnere looked pissed, as if the krauts had personally wronged him.

Back in Albourne, only a few months before the jump. I had just turned eighteen and had been at the bar with some pals just drinking and shooting the shit. I got into a fight. I think the guy was a British soldier and was pissed about something I did- I don’t really remember. A crowd had formed around us and just as I was about to win, the bar owner kicked us out. I then stupidly insisted to the guys that I'd be fine walking myself back to my lodging. The soldier came back with some friends and it became a three on one. It was impossible to win, but I tried my best anyway. I don't really remember what happened after that, only that I ended up getting a good right hook to the jaw and hit the ground. As I was shielding my head with my hands, I suddenly heard this loud philly cursing. 

 When I pulled back my hands I saw Guarnere. There had been two other guys with him, one of them I now know as Toye and the other one still a mystery. All I remember was seeing the drunken rage on his face as he rips the brit off me and punches him in the nose. Him and the other guys must’ve spooked them, because they ran off soon after. I got real pissed after that; getting rescued was embarrassing as it is but being rescued by Easy Company was even worse. Guarnere offered me a hand, but I had been a dick and declined only to save myself from any more embarrassment. I told him I was handling it just fine on my own and got laughed at.

“Yeah right, kid,” Guarnere had laughed. “Jeez, that scar come from those guys too?” He asked.

At the mention of the scar I had made all the reservations I needed about Easy Company and scrambled to my feet. I snapped at him, telling him that it’s none of his business and that he can go fuck himself. I must not have been very threatening because he and his buddies laughed at me again. One of them offered to bring me over to their medic, they didn’t specify who but I wasn’t taking any chances on it being Lydia. So in response I had grumbled that I didn’t need their help. At that Guarnere had huffed, “Well ain’t yous a real hoot.” I got so mad I stormed off, limping away as the laughter echoed behind me.

I blinked and stared at Guarnere again.

He hadn’t changed all that much physically, he just looked a lot angrier at everything. Hopefully he didn’t remember Albourne, because it still haunts me to this day. I think I’m still correct in hating Easy, they’re all a bunch of assholes- Lydia being the worst of them.

I looked at Hall after finally catching my breath and saw him watching Guarnere in bewilderment. He scoffs in disbelief, turning to me with wide eyes.

“What’s that guy's problem?” He huffs.

I exhaled and shrugged. “Does it look like I know?” I asked him.

Malarkey comes up beside us, kicking at one of the dead krauts. “Gonorrhea,” He answers passively.  Me and Hall both looked at each other. “Really?” We both asked.

He glances back at us and rolls his eyes. “His name, dummy. Guarnere, Gonorrhea, get it?” He shoots back before walking ahead. Yeesh, talk about a horrible nickname. Hall rushes to follow Malarkey, I follow behind him. “So besides having a shitty name, what’s his problem?” He asked.

I was about to laugh, but froze when I saw Guarnere’s neck snapping towards us.

Damn, you Hall.

Guarnere glared at him, jaw clenched as he practically vibrated with rage. “None of your fucking business, Cowboy,” He spits. That guy’s got some serious issues. I huffed at his response. Cowboy? Seriously? No way that’s the best he’s got. I turned and saw the annoyed look on Hall’s face. He doesn’t say anything else about him though.

We continued walking and I still had no clue which direction we were headed. The others may have memorized those maps, but I certainly didn’t. All I knew was that according to Sergeant Lipton we were headed for Causeway #2.

The sun rose in the east and finally gave us the light we needed to see. It seemed like for a moment we were all alone out here. I don’t trust the silence enough to let my guard down though, I don’t know if I can just yet. My shoulders were hunched up to my neck and it felt like there was a tension running through my whole body. With the heat out now the bugs were starting to come out. It’s so fucking humid. All I could think of was Tennessee and how much I hate the summer. The mud was also a pain, I can’t imagine ever getting this out of my boots.

I exhaled and turned my gaze forward. The light was a comfort at least; I never did like the dark. The sunrise might have even been relaxing if I could enjoy it in peace, but no, instead I had to endure Guarnere’s ranting and complaining about Winters the whole journey through. Hall, the bastard, had left me behind in favor of moving up front with the lieutenant; leaving me all alone in my misery.

“You see him? He just sat there,” Guarnere rants.

Toye was walking beside him, also forced to endure the Philly man's whining. “He didn’t have a weapon. What’s he gonna do, shout at ‘em?” He replies. Guarnere keeps going, muttering under his breath about being shouted at for killing krauts. “He just wanted you to wait for his command,” Toye adds, shrugging. While that was obvious to some, Guarnere ignored that sound reasoning and huffed. “Joe, he don’t even drink,” He states, as if that means anything.

I turned to the guy beside me, Popeye, I think his name was. “Does that guy ever shut up?” I asked under my breath, nudging him slightly.

He turns and grins slightly. “Who, Bill?” He asks. So that was his name; Bill Guarnere.  At my nod he only laughs, not bothering to respond.

I huffed and focused my attention forward as we continued trudging through the mud. A few steps away I caught sight of Lydia. She was in the middle of all of us, almost untouchable in her circle of nine bodyguards. She didn’t show any signs of discomfort at having to walk in such conditions. I don’t know why I assumed she would, she wasn’t the squeamish sort. I guess I just thought she’d give away a weakness of some kind.

She slows, stepping in beside me. I swallowed, my jaw clenching subconsciously as I hoped she hadn’t caught me staring at her. Sometimes it felt like she could read my mind and it was really fucking annoying. Instead she turns and examines my face. “That’s a deep gash, whenever we stop I’ll stitch it,” She states. While I didn't want her to, she wasn't the type to lie so she was probably right. “Okay,” I muttered. 

She didn’t say anything else and was about to move back up in line when Guarnere called her name.

“Hey, Lyd, you don’t drink, right?” He asks her.

I scowled, whipping around to face him. Who does he think he is calling her Lyd like they’re friends? Lydia looks back at him and to my surprise nods, not even bothering to scold him for calling her by her first name .“You’ve seen me drink before, Sergeant,” She answers with an arched eyebrow.

What the fuck? Lydia didn’t drink, she said she hated the taste of alcohol.

Guarnere looks satisfied by her answer, he turns to Toye and elbows him. “See? Told ya,” He retorts, having won whatever argument they were having. I didn’t care enough to try and find out what it was about. This is bullshit! Lydia woulda ripped me a new one if I called her by her first name in front of people like that. What the hell did she have to do to actually make friends with the Easy Company guys?

I didn’t bother sticking around any longer, instead I sped up and found myself walking beside Malarkey and the two 82nd guys.

Later the sun fully came out, the humidity started easing out too which was a relief. We came across a few destroyed buildings and a water tower off to the right. It took me a minute before I spotted the burnt, mangled bodies laying around. I swallowed thickly and looked up. There was a man dangling from one of the trees, his parachute was entangled in the branches and unlike me he hadn’t gotten down.

I turned and felt my blood start to boil. Lydia was staring at me, her glare tightening as she glanced up at the dead paratrooper in the tree. Fuck her! I know what she’s thinking. Christ, if it… if Hall and Winters hadn’t found me that easily could’ve been me and of course she fucking knows it too. Never again. I never wanna have to be saved by anyone else ever again.

Sergeant Lipton lowered and started looting the bodies, glancing up at us as we stared. “Anybody need supplies or ammo, now’s the time to get it,” He states.

He was right, I know he was right, but boy did it feel wrong. It seems I’m not the only one with a problem. One of the 82nd guys started looking sick to his stomach too.

Up ahead Malarkey starts rattling on about how he promised his kid brother he’d fetch him back a luger and that he’s got first dibs. Elsie would be over the moon if I brought her back something like that, no way in hell I’m actually doing it though. The last thing that girl needs is a gun. Malarkey then points at me and orders me to check some other guy. I just rolled my eyes and stepped to the side.

Suddenly multiple planes come soaring from overhead. I ducked down, glancing up to find that they were American. Thank God for that.

“It’s the navy,” Lipton confirms.

“The landings have started, let’s go,” Winters states urgently.

Hall comes up beside me as he checks his watch. “Right on time,” He says, nudging me with his shoulder. I was about to open my mouth when Guarnere opened his. “Yeah, tell that to him, Cowboy,” He spits, gesturing to some dead guy. I frowned and glared at him. “His name’s Hall,” I shot back before I could stop myself. I oughta watch my mouth talking to a sergeant like that, but you know what, fuck him. He ain’t my sergeant, so there ain’t nothing stopping me from spitting fire right back.

“That so, Hoot?” Guarnere retorts, shooting me a glare. I scowled in response. Of course he remembers Albourne.

“Yeah, it is, Gonorrhea,” I snapped.

Hall puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me away, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Come on, it ain’t worth it,” He says. I huffed and shook him off, but ultimately left it alone. Malarkey walks up beside us, shrugging as he readjusted his grip on his rifle. “You just gotta learn to return his fire, is all,” He says. Joe Toye then brushes past me on my right. “You just gotta realize it ain’t about you,” He adds.

I frowned and was about to reply, but Malarkey was already yapping away again. “He just heard his-,” He began.

“Malarkey, shut your yap,” Guarnere snaps, breezing past him.

“His brother got it at Cassino,” He continued, lowering his voice. “Found out before we jumped.”

Oh. Damn, I guess that explains why he was firing away at the krauts like that earlier. Right before we jumped too? Shit, rough way to find out I guess. I’d probably be just as fucked up if it were Els or Ma.

I raised a hand to my upper right cheekbone when I felt the itching come back. Dried blood scraped under my fingernails, mingling with the dirt and mud. The indentation was deep, the skin stiff and numb at the touch. I smoothed my finger down the length of the jagged vertical scar and stopped when it reached my lip. It doesn’t hurt anymore, not like it used to, but it spooks the chicks bad enough that it might as well have.

It’s been four fucking years and the damn thing still hasn’t faded.

When the itching starts I think about Will; force of habit, really. I don’t think I felt a thing at the funeral, I didn’t cry like Ma or mutter prayers like Jo and Elsie had. We kicked him out in 41’. He ended up messing up bad enough that Ma couldn’t excuse him anymore, he was eighteen then. There were plenty of things she could've kicked him out for, but instead she waited and all it cost me was my fucking face. I think that might also be why she doesn't talk to me anymore. Will died in 1942, only a few days before Pearl Harbor, and ended up making front page news. The police told us he got shot after trying to rob some place a few towns away. Anybody that knew him could’ve seen that coming.

I think I cried more over Pearl than I did for my no-good older brother.

“Stop scratching,” Lydia said from behind me.

I turned and lowered my hand; the itching didn’t stop. She raised an eyebrow at me, almost daring me to fight her on it as her eyes met mine. How am I supposed to get the itching to stop if I can’t scratch it? Maybe she could read minds, she certainly fucking acts like it.

“It itches,” I muttered. “I know, if you keep scratching at it it’s only going to get worse. Keep moving,” She retorts.

I just huffed and shook my head before turning away. Christ, I can’t wait to get away from her and these crazy bastards. Hall and I will get back to Able Company and then we’ll keep making our way through France or wherever else we have to go until we die. Easy enough I guess.