Evelyn's Tale

-Fourteen-

3rd July 1944- Field Camp (north of Utah Beach)

Evelyn was lost. She had no idea where she was other than it was a cave and it was pitch dark. She could barely make out her hand in front of her face as she tried to feel her way around the cave, looking for any source of light or life. Crying. She could hear someone crying. Following the sound, she came to a small alcove, softly illuminated by a single candle. A lone figure sat in a rickety wooden chair.

"Momma?"

Augusta Guarnere made no move to acknowledge the presence of her youngest child. Instead she continued to sob into the handkerchief pressed delicately to her face. Stepping closer, Evelyn called out for her once more.

"You let him die," her mother moaned.

Evelyn frowned. Let who die?

"You let him die," her mother roared, jumping up from the chair, unbridled hatred burning from her eyes. She pushed Evelyn against the wall so hard that the cold jagged rock tore into her back.

"Momma," Evelyn whimpered.

"My boy," her mother growled, her glare venomous. "You watched him die and did nothing about it. He needed you and you didn't help him."

"Momma, what happened to Henry wasn't my fault," Evelyn pleaded with her to understand, tears dripping down her cheeks. "I wasn't even there."

"I'm not talking about Henry," her mother spat.

"Then who?" Evelyn whispered.

Her mother sank to the floor wailing and rocking. It was then that Evelyn saw it. The body full of bullet holes. The blood. Eyes wide open. Hand stretched out reaching for her.

Bill.

"No!" she screamed, closing her eyes and covering her ears with her hands. "No!"

"Evelyn. Wake up."

"Is she alright?"

"She'll be fine once we get her awake. Evelyn. Come on."

"Shit, she's gonna wake the whole camp up."

"Never mind the whole camp, what about us? Some of us need our beauty sleep."

"Fuck off, Perco. There ain't enough hours in the day to make you beautiful so don't worry yourself."

Evelyn sat up with a start. Her heart was beating hard and fast. She couldn't catch her breath. She was glancing around wildly.

"Evelyn, calm down." Even through her muddled haze she knew that voice. "George," she whimpered, clutching at his t-shirt desperately as his arms wrapped around her.

"It's alright," George consoled her, brushing her sweat drenched hair back from her forehead. He had been fast asleep next to her when he heard her mumbling in her sleep. The next thing he knew she started thrashing about and screaming. It was a scenario that had repeated itself countless times over the last couple of weeks, ever since they had been pulled off the front line after almost a month. "You're alright now, it was just a bad dream."

She nodded shakily, unable to rid herself of the image burnt into her mind. She clung to George with an iron grip as if somehow afraid that if she let go she would be back in that cave.

"Is everything all right here?" Lieutenant Winters suddenly peeked his head through the tent flap, his tired voice sounding almost gravelly. Despite the officers' tent being rather far away from the rest of the soldiers' tents, George wasn't surprised that Evelyn's screaming had woken him up. Hell, it had been loud enough to wake the dead.