𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; band of brothers ✔

PART SIX

I've been watching the walking dead and every time I write Bull's speech, I just imagine that it's Abraham saying it instead. His words are gospel, icl.

Word count; 2,369

Dianne

"What does that mean?"

Eugene smirked, "Aren't officers supposed to know everything?"

Liebgott shouted another curse and I checked my watch, "Thirty seconds left. Want to watch?"

"That an offer or an order?"

"Would it make a difference?"

With no answer, I re-emerged from the tent, just as Guarnere tried to volt Joseph over to the next tyre.

"How's it going, boys?"

Bill shot around, dropping his comrade, "What do you think?"

I dropped my eyes to my watch, "Well, you still have eight seconds."

"Whatever she's told you Doc, I bet she left out the part where we had no choice in this," Liebgott gasped, winded from being thrown to the floor so carelessly.

"Been told nothing, Liebgott," Eugene crossed his arms. "Just here incase you feel like throwing something at her."

"C'mon we're not barbarians, Gene, Jesus," Bill commented.

"And given your eight seconds are over," I interrupted, "Do you want to see how to do it?"

Guarnere looked at Joe, whose hands sat on his hips.

"I'm waiting for an answer, gentlemen."

"Yes, Jesus Christ, yes."

"Right," I glanced at the medic. "Care to help?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I headed for what was once nicely spaced piles of equipment, the planks now lounged all around the place and rope thrown on top of it.

"Two of these." I tapped my foot on one of the planks.

Eugene nodded, lifting one up and over his shoulder. He carried it to the starting point, then returned for another. I pushed one of the planks onto the first tyre - Liebgott and Bill watching on all the while - forcing it three quarters off of the edge of the tyre, at which point I stood on the remaining edge.

"If you please," I directed a hand to where I stood.

Eugene stepped up onto the tyre, standing only an inch away from me. Every person has their own scent, most soldiers being that of cheap tobacco and rum, and already I could smell the medic. I was used to the expensive tobacco Papa would smoke, the way it stirred its way into your nostrils. Instead, the cigarettes the U.S. Army rationed were mass produced and thus once smoked they stuck to you, followed you around and invaded every thing you touched. Luckily, it seemed Eugene had only been around those who had. Someone who smoked the things could be sensed from a mile away.

I pulled up another plank, only for Eugene to take it from my hands as I presented a slight struggle. He assisted as I slid it across the plank we stood on, until it landed on the next tyre. Then, making sure our onlookers were still watching, I walked across the planks.

"Jesus," Joe dragged his hands down his face.

"It was that easy?"

"Yes. However, you two were too busy bickering to realise." I faced them. "Want the theory?"

Bill bobbed his head.

"Doc Roe's weight is enough to counter balance mine as I walk across the planks. That's how simple it is."