Evelyn's Tale

-Thirty One-

16th January, 1945

Easy Company had left the Rachamps just over one week ago. During that time, they had been in reserve, travelling from one small town to another throughout France. Their days were spent mostly sitting around, waiting for sporadic German fire or mortars, or doing small patrols of the area. The Germans were slowly being pushed further and further out of France, but there were still small units holding onto strategic towns.

Things were marginally better for Easy than they had been in Bastogne. The weather had started to brighten up. Well, brighten up was perhaps an understatement. It had stopped snowing at least, which was something. And the sun had been a frequent vision in the sky, helping to melt the snow that had fallen in the last month or so. But as the snow melted, it left behind something equally as bothersome. Mud. It was horrible. It was slippery and squelchy. They were all covered in it. Their possessions were all covered in it. They had all commented at one point or another that it was extremely fortunate that Perconte wasn't around. He wouldn't be able to cope with such a dirty ordeal.

"I would give my left arm for a big fat cheeseburger and some fries," More was saying as they all sat around inside an old cellar, taking shelter from the heavy rain outside. Evelyn was strapping up his ankle, as he had gone over on it when walking through a particularly slippery patch of mud. The ankle was a little swollen but aside from giving him an aspirin and wrapping it up tightly in a bandage, there wasn't much more she could do. She would have liked to tell him to keep off it for a few days, but of course that was going to be impossible so she didn't bother wasting her breath. "The diner near my house makes the best burgers. When I get home, I'm gonna eat there for a month."

"First thing I'm gonna eat is some of my mom's chilli," Ramirez added. "Nobody cooks food like my mom. Except maybe for my abuela, but she's so old she can barely move let alone cook now or do anything else."

"Oh stop," Evelyn groaned, setting More's foot down gently. She was literally salivating. "I've not eaten proper food in so long that my head honestly thinks it's been cut off from my body. I don't know how I'm not skin and bones already. I think I'm genuinely wasting away."

Liebgott snorted and mumbled something to himself from where he sat opposite her.

"You got something you wanna say?" she frowned at him.

"No," he shrugged, but the smirk on his face said otherwise.

"Well I think you obviously do," she wouldn't let it go. "Don't be shy, Joe. Share it with everyone won't you."

"Don't share it, whatever you do," Grant warned him.

"Shut it, Chuck," Evelyn threw him one of her famous Guarnere stares. "I'm waiting, Joe."

"Fine," Joe looked her in the eye, still smirking. "You wanna know what I said?"

"No, she doesn't really wanna know," George couldn't believe Liebgott and his big mouth.

Did he have a death wish? He tried to warn Liebgott with his eyes to sense Evelyn's tone, but the guy was oblivious, and George ended up looking like he was deranged or had some minor eye irritation.

"Yep," she folded her arms across her chest and pursed her lips. "I'm dying to know. Can you not see the excitement radiating from me?"

"Alright then," Liebgott shrugged. "I said there's a fat chance of you ever wasting away."

The air grew tense and the men looked at each other with grimaces on their faces. Even Speirs and Lipton who were sitting in the furthest corner away from them, looked up waiting to hear what was going to happen next.