August 30th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.
Summertime in Aldbourne was missing something. Everything was much the way the 506th had left it back in May, but it still didn't seem quite right after nearly two months in combat. Georgia found herself drifting towards her old friend Marian Singer for comfort, rather than confiding in Lew and Dick. Because of this, she found herself striding towards a table in the back of a small pub.
"Well look at you, miss Normandy combat jump!" Marian exclaimed.
The black-haired woman strolled up to Georgia and engulfed her in a hug, and the two swayed back and forth before breaking apart and taking their seats.
"You look good, kid."
"You look good too, Marian. How was Normandy?"
"Missed the damn drop zone, but I'm fairly certain that goes without saying."
"It most certainly does," said Georgia.
"Come on, let's get you a drink."
Georgia let Marian pull her up to the bar and buy her a glass of brandy, and then the two went back to their table. As they sat there, Georgia ran her hands over the smooth wood. A glower crossed her face as she thought of all the men who'd had their last sip of alcohol before D-Day, or never had any at all.
Marian looked at her, then took a sip of her whiskey. "You gonna tell me why you look like that or are you gonna make me guess?"
Georgia's brow furrowed. "Look like what?"
"I dunno. Like that," Marian said, gesturing with her hand.
Georgia sighed, and took a sip of her brandy. "I feel strange."
"Since Normandy?"
Georgia nodded.
"Ah," Marian said, "I see." She set down her glass, fold her hands, and leaned forward. "It's normal. The things we see, the things we do, they only make sense over there. A lot of it doesn't hit you until you're out of combat."
"Why?"
"Hell if I know, kid. I'm an XO, not a philosopher."
Georgia huffed out a laugh and busied herself with counting the freckles on her friend's cheeks until she felt like talking again.
"Caring is a disadvantage," she said.
"In combat? Definitely." Marian nodded. "The only way to deal with the Krauts is to not give a damn about them. Over there, they can't be people to us. Once they're people, they matter, and if they matter, then we won't kill 'em."
Georgia nodded and took another sip of brandy. "Did you ever lose anyone you didn't know?" She could see the paratrooper who landed in the fire on D-Day in her mind's eye.
"In Sicily, some paratroopers practically landed on top of Kraut positions. The Krauts took them, hung 'em up in a tree using their chutes, doused 'em in gasoline, and set them ablaze. It was supposed to be a warning to the rest of us."
Georgia nodded.
"What's your story?"
"Huh?" Georgia asked.
Marian cleared her throat. "You wouldn't have asked me if there wasn't something specific on your mind."
"I saw a trooper land in a burning building on D-Day. I heard his grenades go off, I -"
"Couldn't have saved him. Say it."
"I couldn't have saved him," Georgia whispered.
Marian nodded sharply. "Out there, you do what you can. Weigh the risks, decide what you think is gonna do the most good. And then you move on."
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Catch Her If You Can | Band of Brothers
Historical FictionA debutante from Norfolk who had her whole life laid out for her in a step-by-step guide. A farm boy from Lancaster who paid his way through Franklin and Marshall College by painting high tension towers. To an outsider, Dick Winters and Georgia Fenl...
