#one lung McClung

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 7: The Boys Back Home

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when some of Easy Company's most valuable soldiers disappear?

Words: 2,135

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Author's note: Hey everyone! Apologies for the delay with the chapter lol 🫠 This chapter is the point of view of the men in Bastogne!! Also, because this is my fanfiction and I can do whatever I want, there will be some soldiers who somehow survived their demise in previous episodes (Miller? Dukeman? PERHAPS) Anywho, thank you as always for reading and be on the lookout for Chapter 8! 🥰

"Luz!" Carwood cried over the last shell to drop. He watched the radioman dive into the foxhole - George met the same fate as the nine others who dropped into that hole, none of them came out. Lipton was astonished. At most, a foxhole could fit three of the men comfortably, perhaps four if needed. But ten men in one? Lipton should have seen a dog pile of olive drab stretching above the opening. Instead, he saw an empty hole in the ground. The First Sergeant blinked and rubbed his eyes, making sure what he saw was indeed reality. The foxhole stayed empty when he opened his eyes.

Lipton sprinted from where he was taking cover, desperately searching for Lieutenant Dike. He knew that Dike was the least preferable choice, especially in a situation like this, but the officers Lipton would have preferred to ask for help had disappeared. After an agonizing search mission, Lipton finally found the Lieutenant - Dike was absentmindedly strolling along, looking at the trees around him with a glassy, thousand-yard stare. “Lieutenant Dike!” Lipton called out, scrambling over tree roots and broken branches. Dike snapped back to reality, his posture automatically improving when he saw First Sergeant Lipton.

“What is it, First Sergeant?” Dike asked, trying to be authoritative. The yawn that followed his words worked against him. Carwood began to speak, but his words were caught in his throat… how in the world was he going to tell the lieutenant what just happened?

“Sir… we um…” Lipton tried to force the words out of his mouth.

“Spit it out, First Sergeant Lipton!” Dike ordered, irritation evident in his voice. Lipton paused, taking a breath before responding to the officer.

“Sir… several men are gone…”

“First Sergeant, this is war, we're going to have casualties every day.”

“Not like that sir, I mean… they've disappeared…”

Dike stared blankly at the NCO, wondering if he heard him right.

“Where did they go, Carwood?” Hearing Dike use his first name gave Lipton a feeling he could only describe as ick, but nevertheless, he continued.

“Sir, I saw ten men go into a foxhole, but when I reached them, the foxhole was empty.”

“And you’re sure you went to the right foxhole?” Lipton had to pause and take a breath before answering.

“Yes, sir.” In a flurry of urgency that Lipton had never seen from Dike before, the lieutenant had rounded up Compton, Peacock, Shames, Foley, and Welsh, as well as radioed to Colonel Sink. Lipton hastily repeated his experience to the officers, who were just as hesitant to believe Lipton as Dike was. 

“So they’re just… gone?” Harry asked, still skeptical.

“I wish I had more information for you sir, but all I saw was the men go into the foxhole and not come out,” Carwood replied, defeat evident in his voice.

“Shit…” Welsh muttered under his breath. The Irishman stared at the ground in front of him, wondering how he let two of his closest friends just disappear.

“So who all are we missing?” Buck interjected. He stood with his arms crossed, instinctively taking command of the conversation.

“Captains Winters and Nixon, Lieutenant Speirs, and then Roe, Luz, Liebgott, Guarnere, Toye, Malarkey, and Randleman,” the NCO listed off the men he saw disappear, and prayed he would see again.

What Lipton did not see was Skip Muck quickly scrambling back to his foxhole. He had originally made his way to CP to ask Captain Winters a question, but when he overheard the discussion between Lipton and the officers, panic consumed the soldier’s thoughts. Muck all but fell into Penkala’s foxhole, unaware that he inadvertently elbowed his best friend in the face.

“HEY! What the fuck!?” Penkala yelped in surprise, his hands shooting to his cheek.

“Keep it down, Penk! I gotta tell you something,” Muck hushed the soldier, looking to make sure no one else was around. “I just heard Lipton telling Buck that we lost a bunch of men.”

“Like, to a sniper?”

“No, like they fucking disappeared.” Alex rolled his eyes, figuring Skip was just up to his usual mischief.

“Yeah, and I’m marrying Rita Hayworth.”

“Penk, I’m serious. Winters, Nixon, and a few others are gone and they have no fucking idea where they went.”

“Wait, what’d you say?” Muck and Penkala looked up to see that Shifty Powers had joined them in their foxhole. The rifleman looked at his two friends with shock and concern - how could the soldiers just disappear, especially vital officers like Winters and Nixon?

“He said we’re missing half the fucking company!” Penkala’s voice raised again, becoming more distressed by the minute.

“I said keep it down, you ass-hat!” Skip punctuated his interjection with a sharp whack to the back of Penkala’s head. “Look, we all know Dike isn’t gonna do shit. When Colonel Sink gets here, we need to back Lipton up and make sure Sink knows what’s happening.”

“I can go round up some of the other NCOs and tell them,” Shifty offered, gathering up his rifle to go find the rest of Easy Company’s leaders.

“Alright, we’ll come find you once Sink gets here,” Penkala replied before Shifty set off on his solo mission. Before long, the Virginian had gathered up Alley, Christianson, Grant, Martin, McClung, Perconte, Sisk, Talbert, Popeye, and Smokey Gordon. Of course, the trio of Hashey, Garcia, and Miller wanted to tag along as well - even if they did not have a leadership role, they wanted to help their company however they could.

“I really hope Bull’s okay…” Hashey muttered to no one in particular, crossing his arms to conserve the little warmth he had. “First he went missing in Holland, now we lose him in Bastogne…”

“Yeah, we need to keep a leash on him or something!” Miller snickered to his friends before Babe Heffron bumbled up to the group. The redhead resembled a baby horse learning to gallop as he jumped and weaved past tree roots and foxholes making his way to the group of soldiers.

“The fuck is this I hear about Gaurnere missing!?” Babe’s respirations were loud and labored as he attempted to catch his breath. Before anyone could respond, Lipton came across the group of soldiers all congregated near CP.

“Hey fellas, everyone doing all right?” Carwood asked nervously - he loved his men, but he knew they were up to no good if too many were in one place without a good reason.

“We heard about the men going missing,” Smokey replied, Mississippi accent thick in his words.

“We want to help, Lip, however we can,” Floyd Talbert added. He nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other, Smokey glancing a look of concern at his best friend. 

Lipton was about to express his gratitude to his company before Colonel Sink’s Jeep was seen pulling up beside the rest of the group. Lipton quickly went to grab the company’s officers as Sink nodded in thanks to his driver and stepped out of the car. With a loud, abrupt command to “Ten-Hut!” from Buck Compton, the gathered men snapped to attention and saluted the colonel, who offered a gentle salute in return.

“At ease men,” Sink instructed before turning to the officers, “I knew it was bad when I was getting a call from Dike.”

Lipton and Welsh needed to bite their cheeks to hide their amused smiles. “We’re not sure what to do, sir, or if anything can be done…” Buck replied to the colonel before taking a step back - the blonde gestured for Lipton to step up, an instruction to inform Sink of their predicament.

“Carwood, tell me exactly what you saw.” The rest of the gathered men leaned in as Sink spoke, anxious to understand what was happening.

“Ten men went into a foxhole while we were getting shelled, sir, but the foxhole was completely empty when I went to check on them afterward. There was absolutely no trace of anyone being in that foxhole, sir, and now we can’t find any of the men I saw go in.”

The older man nodded in understanding, silently processing Lipton’s words. “Who all went in?” The NCO repeated the names from earlier, ending with Captains Winters and Nixon. Sink simply looked down at the snow. “And you have no idea where the hell any of them went…”

“No sir,” Lipton replied quietly.

The colonel simply let out a sigh and shook his head, “I’m sorry boys, but since it was during a shelling and they were last seen going into a foxhole, the higher-ups probably aren’t going to authorize a search party,” he sent a determined look to the men, “I’m going to do everything I can to push the request through, but I better not hear of anyone taking matters into their own hands.” Before getting back into his Jeep, Sink turned to Lieutenant Dike, or rather, where Dike should have been. “And where the hell is Dike?”

“We don’t know, sir, we looked for him before you arrived but didn’t find him,” Welsh chimed in. Sink rubbed his forehead in irritation before turning to Buck and Welsh.

“All right, I’m making this an official order. Lieutenant Compton, if Dike isn’t to be found and a decision needs to be made, your company comes to you. Harry, you’re second in command. You kids do what you think is right. You’re good soldiers with smart heads on your shoulders.” Sink nodded to the officers and saluted the men before getting back in his Jeep and driving back to Regimental HQ - the poor man put his head in his hands, his most trusted officers were gone without a trace, and there was virtually nothing he could do to help them.

As if on cue, Dike returned to the company, “What are we all standing around for? We have a line to protect!” Dike crescendoed his voice to try and be more authoritative, but his efforts fell flat. Eyes rolled and voices groaned as the gathered men all dispersed and returned to their assigned duties - well, all except for Babe, Talbert, Smokey, McClung, Shifty, Alley, Grant, and Popeye. As everyone was trying to leave, Smokey grabbed the sleeve of whoever he could.

“Y’all, this isn’t right, we need to do something,” the machine gunner pleaded in a hushed tone.

“You heard Sink, though, there’s no way they’re gonna authorize a search party,” Moe replied, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Popeye took a beat before he chimed in, “...why do we need to wait for authorization?”

“Because only a general can authorize a search party,” Talbert answered the Virginian - while he did not agree with the policy at all, he knew that there was no getting around it.

“But didn’t Sink say that he left Buck and Welsh in charge if Dike isn’t around? They’re not the type to snitch,” Grant offered to the conversation, scrunching his shoulders up for warmth like a turtle retreating into its shell.

“Hell, they might be happy to help out,” Gordon affirmed the NCO. The men looked around at each other with uncertainty - what if Dike found out? Or Peacock? To be honest, it was probably worse for the latter officer to discover the plot. Thomas Peacock tries his best to be a good captain, but these efforts cause him to be rather heavy-handed with the rules. If Peacock were to hear of the plot to find the missing soldiers, he would surely either tell his superior officers or try to stop the soldiers himself.

“What if we get caught?” Shifty asked nervously - while he wanted to help his friends, the poor boy was nervous to hatch a plot like this.

“We can’t just do nothin’! We all know they’d do the same if it were any of us out there!” The man from Philly interjected, earning Babe a smack on the head from Grant.

“Where would we even start?” McClung asked the group.

“Well, best thing to do would be to investigate the foxhole and see if there are any clues,” everyone turned in shock to see Lipton returning to them. “I needed something from CP, and then I noticed all of you still over here, I figured you were up to no good,” the first sergeant said with a smile, earning him a loving slap on the back from Grant and Johnny Martin. The rest of the afternoon was about to be spent brainstorming, at least until one of the men needed to take their turn watching the line.

All of the men felt nervous, but especially Babe. Guarnere is his best friend, it would be one thing if Babe knew that he was wounded, even killed, but not knowing what happened to Bill was eating away at Babe worse than anything he had ever felt before.

~~~~~

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 (coming soon!)

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @easycompany123 , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @themysciraprincess , @xxluckystrike

Thank you so much as always for reading and stay tuned for Chapter 8! 😁

[thatsmylog]

was only going to have a little amuse-bouche of speirs being all What at dealing with people peopling but speirs gifs are v moreish

anyway here's two more i don't make the rules

[dontirrigateme]

Whatever malarkey's serving up, mcclung seems to be enjoying it

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

On July 4, 2004, one week after control and sovereignty of Iraq had been handed over from the United States to an interim Iraqi government, Sergeant 1st Class Billy Maloney stood in the mouth of an aircraft hangar at a U.S. military outpost in Baghdad, his ear to a satellite phone. Around him: a dozen or so members of the 101st Airborne’s 2nd Brigade, 1st Infantry Division.

On the other end of the line was Earl McClung, who had been a staff sergeant with Easy Company in World War II. Sergeant Maloney didn’t know McClung, but when he’d phoned Denver-based Valor Studios to order a Band of Brothers illustration, he had asked if there was any chance of getting an Easy Company vet or two to offer some Independence Day encouragement to his weary soldiers. He knew that Valor, which specialized in paintings and other memorabilia honoring military personnel, had lots of connections. And by now his men and women desperately needed a boost for their morale; they had been in Iraq for more than sixteen months.

Adam Makos, who along with his brother Bryan co-founded Valor Studios, was so moved by Maloney’s request—Who reaches out from a combat zone on a satellite phone?—that he made it happen. He rounded up six Easy Company vets and scheduled them all to make half-hour sat calls to the troops on July 4: Malarkey, Darrell “Shifty” Powers, Guarnere, Edward “Babe” Heffron, and Compton would all be calling with words of encouragement, in addition to McClung.

Maloney gathered a group of soldiers anxious to talk to the Easy Company vets on the satellite phone. Maloney made the first call, to McClung, eighty-two years old.

“Thanks so much, Earl, for taking time for us today,” said Maloney, a forty-two-year-old “lifer” from the Bronx. The sound of helicopters taking off and landing was so loud that he had a finger plugged into his non–phone ear. “We got some folks who are anxious to hear from you. The first is—”

Boom!

“Incoming!” yelled Maloney as he dove for cover.

Through the satellite phone, McClung could hear the missile.

Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—pkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!

The blast sent Maloney flying. And at his home in Pueblo, Colorado, McClung recognized the sound on the line and instinctively did what he had done hundreds of times when shells were raining down six decades before. He dove for cover—in this case, beneath the living room table.

Surreally, McClung could hear what sounded on the phone like a bevy of exploding rockets. Shouts from Maloney and the others. More blasts. Groans. Chaos. My God, he thought, soldiers could be dying. In these frantic seconds, he wasn’t in Colorado—he was in the Bois Jacques. It all came back, the panic, the fear, the feeling of being hunted with nowhere to hide.

“You OK, Billy?” he said into the phone. “Billy, you all right?”

No answer. A few minutes later the line went dead. When Maloney called McClung two days later, he said his unit had been attacked by 120mm rockets. A number of soldiers had been wounded, including Sergeant James Lathan, who would later die of his wounds. A woman from the Black Hawk unit—Maloney couldn’t recall her name—had had most of the flesh torn from a leg.

McClung thought: This is what these people are going through. Just like us. All these decades later. He thought of the loneliness in the woods near Bastogne, the cold, the detachment from anything that made sense. Later, he thought: These soldiers deserve more than a long-distance pep talk. They need to know this country is behind them.

“Billy, what can we do to help?” asked McClung. “Beyond just a phone call?”

Maloney, who was based in Hanau, Germany, and married to a German woman, gave it some thought. He got back to Earl with the idea of bringing a group of Easy Company men to Germany for an event with active-duty soldiers. Have a dinner, share a few beers, offer them some encouragement. It could go a long way—even if it was just a few dozen soldiers, their new-found enthusiasm could “catch” to others.

McClung was all in. The more the two talked, the more enthused they became about the idea. Hell, they could peg it to the sixtieth anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge in December, providing Easy Company’s men were willing to travel in the winter.

“And another thing,” said Maloney, “how about if we invite some German World War II soldiers?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Earl,” said Maloney. “You still there? Earl?”

~ Bob Welch

[rockpaperscissuhs]

Band of Brothers Birthdays

January

1 John S. Zielinski Jr. (b. 1925)

21 Richard D. “Dick” Winters (b. 1918)

26 Herbert M. Sobel (b. 1912)

30 Clifford Carwood "Lip" Lipton (b. 1920)

31 Warren H. “Skip” Muck (b. 1922) & Robert B. Brewer (b. 1924)

February

8 Clarence R. Hester (b. 1916)

18 Thomas A. Peacock (b. 1920)

23 Lester A. “Les” Hashey (b. 1925)

March

1 Charles E. “Chuck” Grant (b. 1922)

2 Colonel Robert L. “Bob” Strayer (b. 1910)

4 Wayne “Skinny” Sisk (b. 1922)

10 Frank J. Perconte (b. 1917)

13 Darrell C. “Shifty” Powers (b. 1923)

14 Joseph J. “Joe” Toye (b. 1919)

24 John D. “Cowboy” Halls (b. 1922)

26 George Lavenson (b. 1917) & George H. Smith Jr. (1922)

27 Gerald J. Loraine (b. 1913)

April

3 Colonel Robert F. “Bob” Sink (b. 1905) & Patrick S. “Patty” O’Keefe (b. 1926)

5 John T. “Johnny” Julian (b. 1924)

10 Renée B. E. Lemaire (b. 1914)

11 James W. Miller (b. 1924)

15 Walter S. “Smokey” Gordon Jr. (b. 1920)

20 Ronald C. “Sparky” Speirs (b. 1920)

23 Alton M. More (b. 1920)

27 Earl E. “One Lung” McClung (b. 1923) & Henry S. “Hank” Jones Jr. (b. 1924)

28 William J. “Wild Bill” Guarnere (b. 1923)

May

12 John W. “Johnny” Martin (b. 1922)

16 Edward J. “Babe” Heffron (b. 1923)

17 Joseph D. “Joe” Liebgott (b. 1915)

19 Norman S. Dike Jr. (b. 1918) & Cleveland O. Petty (b. 1924)

25 Albert L. "Al" Mampre (b. 1922)

June

2 David K. "Web" Webster (b. 1922)

6 Augusta M. Chiwy ("Anna") (b. 1921)

13 Edward D. Shames (b. 1922)

17 George Luz (b. 1921)

18 Roy W. Cobb (b. 1914)

23 Frederick T. “Moose” Heyliger (b. 1916)

25 Albert Blithe (b. 1923)

28 Donald B. "Hoob" Hoobler (b. 1922)

July

2 Gen. Anthony C. "Nuts" McAuliffe (b. 1898)

7 Francis J. “Frank” Mellet (b. 1920)

8 Thomas Meehan III (b. 1921)

9 John A. Janovec (b. 1925)

10 Robert E. “Popeye” Wynn (b. 1921)

16 William S. Evans (b. 1910)

20 James H. “Moe” Alley Jr. (b. 1922)

23 Burton P. “Pat” Christenson (b. 1922)

29 Eugene E. Jackson (b. 1922)

31 Donald G. "Don" Malarkey (b. 1921)

August

3 Edward J. “Ed” Tipper (b. 1921)

10 Allen E. Vest (b. 1924)

15 Kenneth J. Webb (b. 1920)

18 Jack E. Foley (b. 1922)

26 Floyd M. “Tab” Talbert (b. 1923) & General Maxwell D. Taylor (b. 1901)

29 Joseph A. Lesniewski (b. 1920)

31 Alex M. Penkala Jr. (b. 1924)

September

3 William H. Dukeman Jr. (b. 1921)

11 Harold D. Webb (b. 1925)

12 Major Oliver M. Horton (b. 1912)

27 Harry F. Welsh (b. 1918)

30 Lewis “Nix” Nixon III (b. 1918)

October

5 Joseph “Joe” Ramirez (b. 1921) & Ralph F. “Doc” Spina (b. 1919) & Terrence C. "Salty" Harris (b. 1920)

6 Leo D. Boyle (b. 1913)

10 William F. “Bill” Kiehn (b. 1921)

15 Antonio C. “Tony” Garcia (b. 1924)

17 Eugene G. "Doc" Roe (b. 1922)

21 Lt. Cl. David T. Dobie (b. 1912)

28 Herbert J. Suerth Jr. (b. 1924)

31 Robert "Bob" van Klinken (b. 1919)

November

11 Myron N. “Mike” Ranney (b. 1922)

20 Denver “Bull” Randleman (b. 1920)

December

12 John “Jack” McGrath (b. 1919)

31 Lynn D. “Buck” Compton (b. 1921)

Unknown Date

Joseph P. Domingus

Richard J. Hughes (b. 1925)

Maj. Louis Kent

Father John Mahoney

George C. Rice

SOURCES

Military History Fandom Wiki

Band of Brothers Fandom Wiki

Traces of War

Find a Grave

[historyswhor3]

Highlights from Shifty’s War

In the intro Peter Youngblood Hills (the actor who portrayed Shifty in BoB) describes Shifty’s speech, mannerism, & character

Shifty could flip a nickel in the air and shoot it when he was in high school

On his way back to his dorm he was almost jumped by five guys but talked them out of it and was then offered a ride back to the dorms. At the end said they were almost friends

Popeye and him during training camp would pass Winters and say “Why hello Dick Winters” and knew they wouldn’t get in trouble bc he would smile

Speaking of Popeye, he and shifty met in vocational school, enlisted together, and made a bet on making it through camp and becoming official paratroopers

Shifty won a 3 day pass from being an expert marksman but couldn’t afford going home so Popeye got others to chip in to pay for his way home

Shifty and McClung would shoot at other guy’s targets at the shooting range so they would pass

While in England training for the invasion Shifty complained about the food which resulted in the cook punching Shifty in the eye. To get back at him, Shifty stuck a knife in the wall and when the cook was walking by threw a potato at the wall so the cook would think he was good at throwing knives

McClung got his nickname when Alley and Rogers put their machine gun next to a sleeping McClung when an officer asked who was the machine gunner (McClung when he woke up was not happy). Rogers then wrote the poem “Who hung the gun on One-Lung McClung?”

After the battle of Carentan, Shifty was drinking wine and was getting shot at by a sniper and was UNPHASED. He kept drinking and after the sniper fired again wondered if that was the best he could do

While back in London, McClung and him went to a brothel and bc the line was so long McClung shot the lights out and voila no more line

We know Shifty spotted a new tree in Bastogne but he first spotted a new tree back in Holland

Shifty took a squad to patrol and went to a farmhouse to rest. There they ran into a group of guys in American GI uniforms (“who spoke English and appeared friendly”). After awhile, he listened to the way the GI’s moved around and figured from the NOISE OF THEIR BOOTS that they were Germans and swiftly got his squad and left

On leave in Paris Popeye, McClung, and him got into a bar brawl w guys from the navy bc Popeye had been throwing his empty beer bottles over his shoulder at the group. Popeye who liked to cause trouble, after running from the bar went into a fancy restaurant and threw a cat at the waiter’s face after the waiter refused to serve them food

Popeye in Bastogne pissed on his own hands to keep them warm

When in the hospital after the car accident, Shifty was conscious enough that he recalled the nurse taking off his boots and jumping back squealing bc he bloused his pants w condoms — a common thing they did ??

Shifty named his first kid after Wayne “Skinny” Sisk, thus Wayne Powers was born

Was happy that a “fine looking young fella” was playing him and when Peter Youngblood was visiting him he joked that he wanted to adopt him but took it back after seeing Peter eat as he said he couldn’t afford to feed him

With the success and popularity of the series people would write, call, and visit him. He even let a couple visiting from Italy spend the night at his house

[dearbabe]

Band of Brothers Appreciation Posts. #15 One Lung McClung.

[wwhatev3r]

“I can’t recall ever seeing him real angry at anything, I can’t remember him ever saying a mean thing to anyone,” said friend and fellow service member Earl “One Lung” McClung of Colorado. “He was a real Southern gentleman and kind-hearted to everyone. We were real good friends.”

— Earl McClung about Shifty Powers

[nonstoplover]

nightly shared cigarettes ~ ron speirs (band of brothers)

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

request: Hello, I’m not sure if you’re up to another Speirs request👀 could you write something of him and the girl that the company has rescued from the german on their way or mission, this is just a loosely prompt that I have in mind haha😉 thank you in advance

pairing: ron speirs x SOE agent female reader

summary: when on patrol in haguenau, soldiers of easy co. find a captured british agent. until further notice she has to stay with them and in the meantime she grows closer with one of the lieutenants, someone who's fully inpressed by how badass she is.

words: 4.9K

a/n: thank you for the request, lovely anon. i'm always up to write anything with our sweet little grumpy kleptomaniac !! i hope you enjoy how i interpreted your request xx

also i just wanna note here how much i honestly respect the SOE agents (special operations executive), i did research on this and i'm- wow.

taglist: @50svibes​ @liebgotttme​

When Webster's eyes fall on the young woman crouching in the corner of the room they've just bursted in, for a moment all he feels is confusion as it fills his mind. He comes to an immediate halt, Martin almost colliding with his back. Soon both their slightly widened eyes move around her - taking in the stains of blood and dirt all around her ripped clothes, the bruises colouring her skin, the disheveled (y/h/c) hair that was probably once in a braid but now is falling in her face, the exhaustion written on her features even as she eyes the newly arrived group of men with careful interest.

Before anyone can say or do anything, she opens her lips and in the loud noise, in a quite rusty voice announces a short sentence. "I'm British."

The paratroopers of Easy share a glance, feeling even more confused than before. Nobody have told them about any British woman being in that building, not even in the whole town of Haguenau. Nevertheless, knowing that they have to hurry, Martin orders his men to get her too, bring her back along with the Germans. McClung leans down to grab her and lifts her up in his arms much easier than he's thought - she's unbelievably weightless, at least compared to the heavy equipment he had to carry around in the past month, or to the weight of his comrades when he had to drag one of them who got wounded out of the firing line.

When they get back to the other side of the river and inside the basement, he places the girl on the ground next to the two German soldiers and then the company seems to forget about her as Jackson's suffering keeps everyone's thoughts busy. Only after the heartbreakingly young boy passes away under the helplessly watching eyes of his comrades is when Jones has the chance to actually get a look at their captured foes - surprised to find a woman sitting there as it's been too dark outside and they've been in too much of a stressful hurry for him to cast even a short glance at the captured three.

He immediately calls Martin over to ask him about it, and after learning all the news the staff sergeant can offer, he sends the closest soldier available to get one of the Captains before squatting down in front of her.

"So you say you're British?"

(y/n) slowly raises her glance at the young man before moving her head in a small, weak nod. "Agent," she mumbles the word almost inaudibly before pausing for a couple long seconds, then adds one more thing. "SOE." And then her eyelids start closing. She's too tired to stay awake. Sleep is a too tempting idea for her to fight it in such a state. Jones calls for Roe, afraid that she might die right there before him - before they get to know any reportable information about her -, but the arriving medic reassures him that she's just on the way to fall asleep.

Speirs comes rushing in soon, casting a swift glance at the broken-looking group of boys as he moves to the back, only coming to a stop when he's directly next to Doc and Jones. They tell him all the - very little - news they're able to and he orders Webster to bring her to the company CP, saying that they'll keep her under watch and that when she eventually wakes up, someone's gonna interrogate her.

As Web's carefully moving with her in his arms to the other building, his ears catch an almost inaudible mutter coming from the girl and he instinctively leans in closer to be able to hear something maybe useful.

"Ich weiß nichts davon- (I don't know anything about it)" her voice cracks and her arm that's not pressed into the man's body jerks violently as she's fighting the obvious nightmare, her head whipping around. "Ich heiße Lotte! (My name's Lotte)"

Webster doesn't know what to do as she shakes unstoppably - should he wake her or not? With his grip tightening around her body to keep her from falling, he tries mumbling a few reassuring words close to her ear in hopes that it would help - and it seemingly does as her twitching around kinda lightens. Arriving to the CP, he lays her on the now free couch - with Lipton finally agreeing with Speirs' words to go to the back and rest in a real bed -, and after moving the blanket gently on her, Web moves back to the other side of the room to sit down there, keeping an eye on her as he was told.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next morning (y/n) wakes up to the voices of several men quietly speaking around her, and for a few seconds the same edginess fills her body as the one she's been almost constantly feeling in the past weeks, but then her mind finally catches up with her ear and processes the words that are spoken in English - not the German she's used to.

She slowly opens her eyes, squinting at the sudden light even in the dim room and trying to remember where she is and how she got there. Just as faint memories of a grenade explosion, shouting American soldiers and being carried in the arms of someone with gunshots slamming into the ground all around enter her mind, one of the men notices her wakefulness and signals to the others to let them know as well.

(y/n) watches one of them rush out of the room while the rest of the group stays where they've been, on the other side of the room, in a loose circle. With her hands finding support on the sofa next to her body, she pushes herself up into a sitting position, her eyes never leaving the men in case they reacted to her movements. But they don't, all of them stay as still as statues right until someone enters through the doorway - and with a glance his way, she can wordlessly confirm to herself it's not the same one that has just left. The men seem to stiffen and stand straighter before the newly arrived one signals them away and except for one of them they tardily leave the room.

The officer - that one's obvious after a second glance at his uniform and seeing the way he communicates with the others - pulls a chair to the middle of the room and sits down on it facing her, while the other - who's face she finds faintly familiar but has no idea as to where from - stays in the back, leaning against the wall.

"I'm Captain Speirs," the officer says and her eyes focus back on him. "101st Airborne Division of the US Army."

He waits for her to answer, but she stays silent, waiting to hear what else he has to say - but it's hard to start this kind of interrogation for him, not knowing what to do with the woman claiming to be British who was captured by the Germans.

"Your name's Lotte?" First it seems like a statement, but the end of the sentence comes out more like a question and (y/n) raises an eyebrow in surprised confusion. How does he know about that?

"Lotte?" She asks back.

Speirs glances back towards Webster for a moment who simply shrugs, then turns his hazel eyes back to her. "You said that yourself in your sleep."

Ah, damn. This will get her in serious trouble one day - speaking in her sleep, chattering around.

"That's my code name," she nods, only hoping that she won't reveal too much with this information. "As an agent."

"Who do you work for?"

"That I can't tell you, I'm sorry."

Ron raises an eyebrow as a response and (y/n) lets out a sigh. "Look, I really can't say more, the most I can is that I work for the United Kingdom. For the Allies."

"You're British?"

"I am. Born in England."

Ron watches her tilt her head to the side as she speaks the sentence with a curious glint in her eyes. All thoughts that it might be a trap start to fade away the more he hears her obvious accent - that can't be learned if she was actually a German and only pretending to be English. Still, all the secrecy surrounding her, keeping her in a metaphorical fog from his eyes doesn't let the slight doubt disappear as well. When he doesn't say a word for more than a minute, another sigh escapes her lungs and she turns in her seat so her feet hangs off from the side of the couch and her upper body is supporting itself against the back-rest.

"My name's (y/n) (y/l/n), I volunteered to join the organisation in 1943 and had jumped into Germany in March 1944. Got captured by a group of German soldiers this January."

"What were you doing here?"

She turns her eyes to the ground, two parts of her mind fighting each other. One says she should answer honestly - these are American soldiers, allies, for Christ's sake, and she's already said a lot of things - and one says she should divert the question because what she's doing is a secret, one that she's swore to keep even if it cost her her life. Barely any people outside the organisation know about its existence.

"Well, since you won't answer, I'm gonna have to guess. Since you're a secret agent who's working for the British government, I'd say you were doing espionage and sabotage actions."

Oh my, she's said too much, everything about her has become obvious... She must be more exhausted than she thought.

Speirs stands up, and raising a hand pushes his fingers in his hair, deep in his thoughts. Though before anyone could say or do anything else, Babe Heffron enters the room and tells his superior how Captain Winters has asked to speak with him. Ron signals at Webster to stay where he is and walks out through the doorway.

"The Germans talked," Nixon announces as soon as Speirs enters Winters' make-shift office in another part of the same building. "They say the girl's a British spy."

"She won't say much, but that's what I figured as well," Ron nods.

"We're trying to get in contact with her superior, whoever it might be," Winters joins the conversation as he's systemizing the papers on the desk with his just finished reports.

"She's a part of a secret organisation, sir, so it won't be easy, I guess."

"Maybe we should let her use our radio to do it herself," Nix suggests with a shrug.

And that's how a couple hours later - during which Doc Roe finally got a chance to attend to her bruises and wounds, and dictate some hot food into her - she finds herself sitting in a different room, feeling much better already as her fingers carefully try to get connection with the HQ of the Special Operations Executive under the watchful eyes of a few American soldiers.

In the end (y/n)'s ordered to stay with the company that has found her until she got better, wounds healed and strength back to normal before getting further orders. They have to check first anyway if it's safe enough for her to go back to her previous position or if the Germans know too much about her already.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day Easy's pulled back to Mourmelon and she travels in the jeep with the captains - Winters, Nixon and Speirs. Since they've already heard the full conversation she had with HQ and so they know about the SOE, she's more willing to answer their questions about what she was doing in Germany, how she got there, what training she got beforehand, et cetera.

The more he learns about the young woman, the more amused Ron feels. He can't shake the thought that he's never met a more badass woman than the girl sitting next to him. All his life, when he thought about the female part of the population, he knew that if he ever got himself a girl, it should be someone strong, daring and fearless. And it wasn't easy to find someone like that - until suddenly this British spy appeared in his life.

After arriving, the soldiers get a proper meal first, then everyone's dismissed to rest anyhow they choose to. (y/n) goes back to the room they've assigned for her, still feeling the past weeks' exhaustion creeping up on her and after changing into the American uniform Captain Winters got for her - so she doesn't have to walk around in her torn, dirty clothes anymore - she falls asleep on the inviting, soft mattress. When she wakes up drenched in sweat and panting hard, it's sometime in the middle of the night already, everything's quiet around her and only the light of the moon comes in from the darkness through the window.

She stands up, stretching her muscles and trying to calm her shaking body before slipping on her boots again and putting on the probably unused - almost still crispy - jacket before silently moving out of the room. The cold, February night air fills her lungs and cools her warm and sweaty skin under a short second immediately after she exits the building. Slowly starting to walk next to the wall, she lets herself drown in her thoughts again.

"You runnin' away?" A voice asks from the dark after she mindlessly turns in a corner, making her jump and press her palms against her chest, her eyes wide and heartbeat going so fast as if she's just run a marathon.

As she tries to catch her breath, her glance lands on a burning end of a cigarette and moving a bit further up, she meets Ron Speirs' lightly amused, sparkling eyes.

"You scared the shit out of me," she admits, still panting. He says nothing, just continues watching her - a half minute later she gives in, rolling her eyes and answering his previous question. "I'm not running away, just wanted to get some fresh air. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Can't sleep," he shrugs.

"Nightmares?" (y/n) turns around to lean with her back against the wall right next to him.

"Maybe."

Glancing curiously at him, she waits for a while for him to say something else, but eventually figures that it's all she's gonna get from the man - he's seemingly not one to speak a lot and admit his true thoughts and emotions.

"You're not the only one," she mumbles, turning her gaze down to the ground under her feet as she mindlessly kicks away at random rocks scattered around.

He still doesn't say a word, and (y/n) starts to feel like she's annoying him, that her company is unwanted here but just as she places her palms flat against the wall to push herself away from it, a hand holding a pack of cigarettes appears in front of her eyes. With a swift, hesitant glance towards the man she slowly reaches up to take one and as she places it in-between her lips, Speirs raises his other hand, lighting the smoke for her.

At the sudden flash of light, he gets a better look at her, and his eyes swiftly move up and down her body, taking in the nearly literally breathtaking sight of the girl wearing a uniform, one that's almost like his. Even as the flame dies out from the lighter, the image is right there in front of his eyes - as if it's painted on the insides of his eyelids.

They smoke in silence for a while, both deep in their thoughts - his mainly consisting of how most men find women in fancy dresses and skirts, wearing high heels and make-up the most beautiful sight on Earth, and how seemingly he's just the opposite of that. A woman in uniform, not dolled up at all, radiating such strength and courageous confidence from her whole body that it feels like it's gonna consume him - that's what makes his mind spin and maybe even his heart skip a beat.

"Where are you from?" (y/n) asks a few minutes later, exhaling the smoke from her lungs.

"Brighton, Massachusetts," comes his answer right away. "But I was born in Edinburgh."

"You were?" She asks back in surprise.

Ron nods, taking another drag of his cigarette. "My family moved to the US when I was four."

The girl hums, falling silent for a few seconds as she contemplates his words. "Is it nice? In Brighton," she adds to clarify any uncertainty about her question.

He takes a breath, thinking over his answer before actually opening his lips and speaking up. It becomes the longest sentence (y/n) has heard from him - and it feels like she's finally able to see a little more through the wall around his heart and soul. By the time they finish their second cigarette, she knows about how he got to the 101st, what training they partook back in the States, and where they've been around Europe, what they've done before getting to Haguenau and - unintentionally - rescuing her.

And even though she feels like she'd gladly listen to him talk for hours, days, if she had a chance, a yawn takes over her features and she feels a sudden surge of sleepiness move through her bones and veins.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but I think it's time for me to call it a night. Maybe you should try to get some sleep as well, you deserve to rest properly," she flashes a small smile his way that warms his chest even in the cold winter air.

Stomping out her cigarette on the ground, she raises her eyes once more - only to find him already watching her. "Good night," she nods with the warm look in her glance still apparent, then turns around and makes her way back to her room.

Speirs is left alone with the goosebumps on his skin - ones caused by the way she said his rank - and he stays there for a couple more minutes, thinking about their conversation, about the girl. Then he moves back to his room as well, following her advice - and eventually getting the best sleep he's had in a long, long time. No nightmares, no waking up after seeing his men die over and over again, no trouble falling back asleep with stains of blood and dead bodies appearing in front of his inner eyes. He just sleeps. Peaceful, as he did as a child, with the only dream that appears being one about a woman. Her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next night when (y/n) wakes up from her sleep, she almost instinctively puts the rest of her uniform back on, not thinking just walking towards the same place she found the young man the previous night. She doesn't even know why, but disappointment sweeps in her body when her eyes take in nothing but his absence. Nobody's there, just her.

"Want a smoke?" The familiar voice of Speirs enters her ears only a few seconds later, making her jump yet again.

A chuckle leaves his lips as he watches her spin around, panting just as much as she did the last night. "Would you stop scaring me every goddamn time? You're gonna be the death of me," (y/n) scolds him with a frown playing on her eyebrows, but he can see the playful glint in her eyes that lets him know that she doesn't mind it that much - that she's just glad to see him again.

"Sorry," he says with his lips curving into a smirk that says the complete opposite. As a peace offering he holds his pack of cigarettes out for her, similarly to the first time just about 24 hours ago, and then lighting it for her.

Conversation starts easier this time, even Ron's more willing to speak his mind, sharing his thoughts, asking questions. Time seems to fly as in no more than a blink of an eye (y/n)'s already stomping out her third cigarette. He hesitantly offers her one more, trying to convince the small voice inside his head that he's not doing it to keep her around for some more time. She shakes her head, but doesn't make a move to leave, just keeps on leaning against the cold wall, opening her lips to ask him yet another question.

Only a little while later, when a shiver moves up her body, leaving her shaking and teeth clinking, is when they suddenly realise how cold it actually is to just motionlessly stand outside, and this time Speirs is the one to offer to call it a night.

From that night, it becomes an everyday thing - or more like everynight in their case - for the two of them, no matter how tired they might be the next day when they talked throughout almost the whole night - until the sky started lightening, signalling the closeness of dawn. They stand there, in each other's company, smoking and sharing stories about their lives, getting to know the other more and more.

It becomes the part of his days Ron looks forward the most - sometimes he doesn't even try to get some sleep, just sits on his bed thinking until their unspoken time of meeting comes. She's always joking around, leaving sarcastic comments whenever she has a chance - leaving him amused by how optimistic she can be from time to time even in such terrible times, after all the things she's gone through.

Her quietly ringing giggle and her full-on, bubbling laughter soon become his favourite sounds he's ever heard in his life and he finds himself trying to make jokes himself, coming up with all kinds of funny stories he can just to be the reason she lets out those angelic sounds.

During the days, (y/n) spends her time with Easy company, joining them in whatever it is they're doing, making friends with the men - just enjoying themselves. One time she's just moving between buildings with Joe Liebgott, Babe Heffron and Chuck Grant when Speirs comes walking from the opposite direction, with about four or five packs of cigarettes in his hands.

"Will you leave some for me too, Captain?" (y/n) calls out to him with a mischievous grin and Ron has to bite back the smirk that's threatening to appear on his lips - both from the playfulness of her sentence and the fact that she called him that again.

The three soldiers next to her turn to look at (y/n) as if she's gone crazy, but then they only get even more shocked when their superior answers - especially when hearing and seeing the unusual merriness radiating from him.

"Sure thing, miss."

The girl bites her bottom lip to keep in the giggle, not turning her eyes from his until they pass each other, her cheeks turning slightly pink in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Liebgott inquires with a frown.

"I asked for some cigarettes," she shrugs nonchalantly.

In the next half an hour, the three paratroopers take it upon themselves to fill her in with all the rumours going around the men about the company commander.

That night when she arrives to their usual spot, he's already there. As soon as her eyes fall on him, her lips curve into a suggestive smirk. "It seems like I'm not the only one you like scaring the hell out of," she announces, drawing his attention to her.

Ron raises an eyebrow in question, and she explains in a couple words what she's heard from her friends in Easy that afternoon. He can't help but grin as his shoulders move in a shrug as the routine-like action of him offering a smoke and lighting it for her takes place - it's become such a habit that they don't need any words or thoughts to do it, their hands moving in instinct.

"If only they knew how not scary you are when someone takes the time to get to know you," she sighs.

"Someone as in you?" The corners of Speirs' lips turn upwards into a sly smirk. "You're trying to get to know me?"

"Hey, I didn't spend the past many nights suffering to get information out of you for no reason," she jokes, a small giggle leaving her lips.

"If it's so bad you describe it as suffering, why do you come back out here every night?"

(y/n)'s cheeks burn and she blesses the darkness for hiding it as he now openly teases her. "I guess I like the company too much to give it up," she speaks quietly.

Ron's heart feels like bursting with happiness to hear that sentence - something he never thought possible before.

"Anyway, I might enjoy them being scared of me," he shrugs again, seamlessly diverting the subject as he doesn't know what to say to her confession - he can't just say that he feels the same way, now can he? Even if he does.

The girl raises an eyebrow with an amused sparkle in her eyes, forgetting about the seriousness of the previous moment herself, more than willing to let him change the subject in her slight embarrassment.

"You do?"

Seeing his nonchalant nod she can't help but laugh loudly and sharply and his free hand swiftly comes up to cover her lips and muffle the sound before someone in the surrounding buildings wakes up. For a couple seconds they stay like this, until (y/n)'s laughter dies off, first into small giggles, then into a content silence. Even then, his fingers don't leave her skin, and the more moments pass, the more aware she becomes of his touch.

It feels like her skin is tingling wherever she feels him gently pressing against and the remainder of her cigarette imperceptibly falls to the concrete that's beneath their feet. Ron can't help but wonder about how hers are the softest cheeks, the softest lips - the softest things his fingers have ever touched. (y/n) slowly, very slowly raises her eyes until the (y/e/c) orbs connect with his hazel ones and she gets lost in the intensity of his gaze.

Hesitantly he starts lowering his hand, letting it fall from her face, back to his side - but he doesn't move further, stays right there, close enough to hear and feel her small breaths as they move the air between them. Time seems to stop between them as they stand captured in each other's eyes.

"Ron," she whispers and his eyes flutter shut, heart skipping a beat. He doesn't even know how she knows his first name, but she has never said it before and now hearing it he can't help but want to hear it again and again and again. By the way his breath hitches, for a moment (y/n) fears she said something she shouldn't have, but then his eyes open again and she's taken aback by the emotions flowing in his sparkling orbs - so the fact she called him by his name was anything but bad.

Heartening up from his reaction she carefully reaches out with her fingers until they touch his, pausing for a moment to give him a chance to pull away. When he doesn't move a single muscle in his body, just keeps on watching her, she moves once more, snaking her hands in his and intertwining her fingers with his. For a second or two that seems like long hours for the two of them they stay like that, then out of nowhere Speirs lunges forward and hungrily presses his lips against hers.

She grips into his hands tighter before not much later they slip out of her hold, only to move up to cup her cheek and the back of her neck. He tilts her head further back to have a better angle - to be able to kiss her deeper, and she sighs into his mouth contently, her own arms moving up his back, clinging into his body.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the remainder of Easy's time in Mourmelon, off the line, the captain and the secret agent don't spend another night talking outside in the cold February night, smoking. Instead, they do the very same thing inside, in his room - lying in his bed, in each other's embrace, sharing passionate kisses every once in a while. Sometimes to kiss the pain of the past or the uncertainty of the future away, sometimes only because they can't help the overflowing emotions in their hearts and minds - the only thing that seems to matter anymore is to feel each other.

.::the end::.

my masterlist  |  my hbo war masterlist

[wanna be added to my taglist?]

[himbowelsh]

most feral men in easy company, ranked :

RON SPEIRS

ron fuckin’ speirs, y’all

somebody should make a highlight reel of speirs’s most feral moments

steals things. literally just pockets them right in front of people, looking them dead in the eye. just. takes them.

took on a german machine gun and lived

stalks people silently in the woods

delivers ominous nihilistic speeches without blinking

has a cult of rumours surrounding him, each more feral than the next

Y’ALL KNOW WHAT HE DID IN FOY

working knowledge of roman history which apparently comes out of nowhere???

after v-e day, a few easy company guys brought their buddy dressed as a german right to speirs and said “sir we found this german prisoner”, and speirs, without even looking up, just said “shoot him”

“WHEN YOU TALK TO AN OFFICER, YOU SAY SIR”

(historically, said “i’ve killed better men than you”, which is possibly more badass)

pistol-whipped a bitch

uhh, remember that time he got so mad general strayer was trying to take his car that he destroyed it with extreme prejudice before shoving it over a cliff??

 T H E   G L A R E 

earl mcclung

could smell germans??  how even the hell

remember that one time the germans blew up the bridges in holland while mcclung was literally on it, and as the dust settled everyone thought, “well, there goes mcclung”, but he literally tuck-n-rolled himself over the bridge and behind a log while the explosion was happening??  and lived??

they called him freaking “one lung”.  just imagine you’re in the woods all alone, just vibing, when some guy called One Lung comes barreling out at you.   “what’s your name,”  you ask between screams of mortal terror.  “THEY CALL ME ONE LUNG”  he replies.  that’s objectively terrifying.

joe liebgott

needs therapy.

winters knew.  winters knew exactly what was up.  do not leave liebgott alone with the prisoners.

cut off a guy’s finger???  as a souvenir??  jesus freaking ch---

i think he tried to bite webster in that one scene

definitely tried to maul guarnere  ( he had it coming )

remember that one nazi

bill guarnere and joe toye

they go together because they’re the exact same level of wild animal

bill gets +1 point because they literally called him “wild bill”

stole a motorcycle, broke his leg, and tried to go awol from the hospital a few weeks later...  by painting his cast black and trying to walk out. it did not work. when the hospital staff caught him, he basically said “and i’ll do it again” 

they tried to demote him to private for this, and simply failed

joe + brass knuckles

once don malarkey was being threatened by another paratrooper, and joe came out of nowhere, slamming the guy into a wall, almost off his feet, screaming “NO ONE THREATENS MALARK”. imagine it and tell me you’re not shitting yourself a little.

both got their legs blown off, at the exact same time on the exact same day, and not only LIVED, but wisecracked at each other while waiting to be taken away

bill tried to jump out of a med-evac plane with one leg.  there was some turbulence, so he literally hopped up and was like “GIMME A PARACUTE, I’M GOIN”

joe tried to kick his brother’s ass with his own prosthetic leg

donald malarkey

“what?” you say. “malarkey was so chill.  one of the chillest guys in the company!”

what about that time he stole a motorcycle

or jumped off his roof with an umbrella just to see what would happen

or ran into open fire to try and score a luger

OR THE TIME HE CHUGGED STRAIGHT METHANOL AND ALMOST DIED

lewis nixon

"tune in or check out hoes”

[winnix85]

One-Lung McClung, who seemed to have an uncanny sense of smell, believed Major Winters was in fact a secret drinker. Otherwise how could you explain the trace of whiskey smell on his collar?

[gordonsgano]

Every Pic of Earl ‘One Lung’ McClung i have on my laptop part 1

[dontirrigateme]

For International One-Lung Day, I gift one very background Earl McClung.

SSg. Earl McClung, 27 Apr 1923 - 27 Nov 2013

Also, some Henry Jones, since it's also Henry Jones Day.

Capt. Henry Jones, 27 Apr 1924 - 21 Jul 1947

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

I doubt it was an uncommon feeling, this weariness, at least among us old-timers. You’d notice exhaustion in the way men moved. Maybe a subtle groan when a soldier shouldered his rifle. A slower glance before a man crossed the street. The war was winding itself down. We were sure of it. We’d beat the Germans at Bastogne. Broke the enemy’s back. And because of that, we all walked more carefully now than ever before. I think even the Germans felt this way. Didn’t seem like they had much fight left. For us in Easy Company, a new hope stirred. It wasn’t a carefree hope, one that fills a man with energy. But an undeclared hope that drives a man to caution. It’s when you sense you might actually come through this thing alive. Skinny Sisk fit this profile. I watched him out of the corner of my eye for a day or so and he acted more leery than I’d ever seen. Food wasn’t real abundant for us in Haguenau, and one day Skinny came across a chicken, sprinted back to the bombed out house we were staying in, and we cooked it in the backyard over an open fire. We’d had a shipment of beer trucked in from somewhere, oddly enough in spite of the scarcity of food, and three bottles each was the ration. Skinny and me both sucked ours down, pulling apart that chicken, and I asked him why he had such a faraway look in his eyes. He spat out a chicken bone, eyed the question guardedly, and said, “Well, the man upstairs and me had words.” “Who—McClung?” It was One Lung’s turn to watch across the river. Skinny shook his head. “Nah, it was during all that shit we took in Bastogne. Shifty, I told God if I ever made it out of there alive, I’d become a rev’rund.” He took the last sip of his beer, then opened another bottle. Well, that was almost funny to hear. When I’d met Skinny back in Toccoa, he’d been the most foul-mouthed, hard-drinking, hard-living reprobate ever to enlist in Easy Company. I had a hard time ever picturing him as a preacher. All I said was “You?” “Yeah. Why not?” Skinny poured the rest of his beer down his throat and wiped the grease from his hands on his pants. “Someday I’m gonna keep my promise to God.” He frowned and added, “If only I could get some goddam sleep first.” I knew what he was talking about. Skinny had been a fine soldier all during the fighting. Back in Holland he’d led the charge a couple of times. He’d killed a lot of Krauts, seen a lot of blood. Experiences like those had a way of weighing heavy on a man’s mind, I knew it for fact, especially at night when sleep was hard to come by.

~ Marcus Brotherton

[fybandofbrothers]

requested by kitten-meister