The most spice I have ever written tbh
Word count; 2,518
Frances
— February 9th, 1945. Haguenau, France.
The weather only worsened as we crossed over into France, as did the state of Easy Company. Alongside the snow, men were dropping almost every day, either from the cold, disease, surprise mortars. 2nd Platoon lacked an officer, 3rd was yet to be given a Sergeant. There were very few NCOs that still originated from Toccoa; Muck, Penkala and many more had all been killed in action at Bastogne. Guarnere, Toye, Compton and Welsh had been evacuated. Liebgott would've been another on the list if it wasn't for the continuous encirclement of the Germans.
We had moved into Haguenau, a village on the bank of a river. Most of the houses were covered in black from previous fires, others plagued by rubble from artillery barrages. Very few were left untouched by the war, and those that were had mold everywhere.
I followed after Spiers into a large manor - what would become the designated Company HQ - stomping my boots on the welcome mat to get rid of the sludge that clung to them. With Easy Company settling into their separate billets, soldiers were all over the place, carrying boxes, sorting out the latest shipments of ammunition and rations. Private Adams - Spiers orderly, assigned with making sure each platoon had their fair share - found me, pointing at a clipboard to clarify certain figures.
"Twelve men, correct?" - the number that made up 1st Platoon.
"Thirteen including me." I smiled, planting my finger on the paper. "Share my tobacco out between the three Platoon Sergeants."
He nodded, scribbling down my orders. I looked up briefly; Lipton shrugged off his webbing and daysack beside a sofa, Luz hurrying back from a separate room. Another Private had entered through the threshold of the chamber; Webster, a D-Day veteran injured in Holland.
"Look who it is." George commented, cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth as he handed a paper to the now lying down Lipton. "Nice digs, huh, Lip?"
"Sergeant Lipton?" Webster probed. "Feeling all right?"
"Look what I found. There you go." Luz threw a blanket over the Sergeant, regarding Webster. "He's got pneumonia."
"You'll get five shots of rum as an officer, want me to give those out too?" Adams brought my attention back to him.
I looked down at the board, "Yeah, hon."
He scribbled it down again, then vanishing off outside. Webster had taken a seat by an old piano in the corner of the room, already shivering.
"Is this the Company CP for Easy?" A new voice announced.
"Yes, sir." Lipton answered, stifling a cough.
"As you were." The man stated. "Lieutenant Jones, looking for Captain Spiers."
"He's on his way, sir, why don't you sit down." The Sergeant indicated to an armchair next to him.
I cleared my throat, unwinding the scarf that sat around my neck and stepping forward.
"Here you go, hon." I wrapped it over his shoulders.
"Lieutenant Kennedy." Webster stood up, not having noticed me until now.
"All right?" I asked sweetly.
"Lieutenant?" Jones stare fell on mine. "You're a Lieutenant?"
"She sure is, sir." Lipton responded. "1st Lieutenant."
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]
