Like every wattpad author ever: sorry for not uploading. I am already procrastinating from my coursework lol. Also realised I've been calling Winters a Lieutenant when at this time in both the novel and series, he has been promoted to a Captain. I'll refer to him as that from now on but we'll see if I'm too lazy to update the previous chapters.
Word count; 2,793
Dianne
We were sat in a room no more luxurious than the cottage it was situated in. Lewis' feet rested on the table, a map sprawled over it, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He had offered me one and, after declining, sat back and dug his head into a newspaper. A buzz echoed from the light above the table, the bulb incaged by a wire mesh. I hadn't been in a police holding cell before, but this sure came close.
"Nix?"
"In here, Lieutenant."
Compton emerged in the room over, head searching the chamber for us.
"Wrong way." I narrated the trailing of his footsteps.
He turned, frowing until he saw me waving from my seat in the doorway.
"Tell me, doll, why did I just walk by the mess hall and see Liebgott scrubbing the ceiling?"
"His punishment, Lieutenant," I leaned into the curve of the chair.
Nixon chuckled, "Surprised you haven't thought of that one yet, Buck."
He scoffed, "I have a reputation to uphold."
"Which is?"
"Never you mind that," Buck quickly dismissed. "Winters is looking for you."
"Tell 'im I'm busy," Lewis replied.
"Not you. Kennedy."
"Tell 'im she's busy." He rolled his eyes. "Can't you see that?"
"Well you don't look too busy to me, up and at 'em, girl." Compton booted a leg of the chair I sat on.
I regarded Nixon, almost for confirmation, but his head was already back in the paper.
Buck stopped outside a building - the purpose of the structure originally was unclear, the walls large enough to indicate a type of hotel but small enough to enforce some sort of club. It was across from the cottage we came from, and Compton whistled a tune which seemed to be stuck in everyone's head; In the mood by Glenn Miller.
Before knocking on the door, he pivoted, "Tell me, what did you decide for Wild Bill?"
"Wild Bill?"
"Guarnere? The other participant?"
"Well nothing yet," I furrowed my brows. "Got any ideas?"
"Well, if I make him dig another pit, I'm sure he'll throw the shovel at me this time."
He turned away, withdrawing the chance for me to answer, and threw his fist against the door before stepping inside.
"Back off!" Liebgott ordered to another man as he tried to take the weighted broom from his hands.
Expecting Winters, I crossed my arms. Instead, Joe was sweeping the ceiling, Guarnere poking at him, both looking at us as the door swung open.
"Finished with the mess hall already, Lieb?" Buck probed.
Liebgott elbowed Guarnere in the stomach, "Right on."
YOU ARE READING
𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; band of brothers ✔
Historical Fiction𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 "You're either with me or against me, you choose." To Dianne, fearlessness never had a meaning, all because she never had to use it. Up until the paratroopers were involved. [Completed]
