Catch Her If You Can | Band of Brothers

XX. June 15th, 1944. Normandy, France.

June 15th, 1944. Normandy, France.

The rain was coming down in sheets over the 506th. Men and women were drenched, foxholes were flooded - making Georgia's mood exponentially less amicable - and the Germans were only one hedgerow away. Easy Company had stumbled across them as the regiment had left Carentan, and Georgia believed that they were remnants of the original force that had been defending the town three days earlier. She didn't have enough information to confirm it, which upset her. She didn't like not knowing. Regardless, they'd held them off well enough until an hour or so before sunset, at which point Georgia had relayed Colonel Sink's order for the soldiers to dig in for the night. Thus, here they sat, complaining as the Germans sang war songs. That moment of respite by the stream a few days earlier seemed a world away - more akin to Aldbourne than Normandy. Now, Georgia sat beside Lew underneath a moonless sky, about ready to snap his neck if he didn't shut up.

"Hey, at least there's no thunder," Lew said.

"Lewis," Georgia said through clenched teeth, "that does not make me feel any better."

"Don't call me Lewis."

"Don't speak."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Lew turned towards Georgia and she rolled her eyes. She felt that at any moment, her foxhole was going to fill with water and that her combat gear would pin her to the ground and she'd die scared and alone. She knew Lew would listen if she told him about it, but she wasn't in the mood.

Thus, Georgia elected to continue staring out into the night, smoking cigarette after cigarette, wishing for a peaceful sleep that she knew would never come.

The minutes ticked by slowly until it reached three-thirty. At that time, Georgia climbed out of the foxhole and went to walk the line. She barely made it twenty-five yards in the direction of 2nd Battalion before she heard shouting.

"Goddamnit, what part of noise discipline did you morons not understand?" Georgia muttered. As she tiptoed towards the source of the sound, she was met with Ron Speirs. Water was dripping down his face, creating small patterns in the burnt cork and dirt there.

"What's going on, Sparky?"

"Easy Company has some nervous privates," said Ron.

Georgia looked at him for a moment, raised an eyebrow, then conceded.

"I'm going to feel worse if you give me context for that statement, aren't I?" she asked.

"Most definitely."

She sighed. Ron chuckled.

"I suppose I'll find out when I find out, in that case."

"Fair enough," Ron said. "I'll see you around."

Georgia nodded, and returned to walking the line. She was still drenched and cold, and she felt like a wet dog. She crouched down in the grass and mud and let her head fall into her hands.

"It's going to be a long night," she said.

She didn't know who she was talking to.

Nothing occurred on her way back to the foxhole, and Lew was asleep by the time she arrived. She jumped down, leaned her rifle against the dirt, and pulled her knees up to her chest.

Sleep was fleeting.

Even more so when the Germans attacked at first light.

The sun was bright, and the smell of war was high on the wind. Smoke, blood, and other scents she couldn't quite pick out wafted towards her where she sat in the grass reading stolen German documents. Georgia herself couldn't quite believe that this was her life now. It still felt like a fever dream.