The Courage to Bear: A Band of Brothers Fanfiction

A Time like No Other

Summer 1945

"Shit," Frances Joselewicz spat, reading the notice they were handed as they punched their time cards. "They've cut my pay in half."

"Mine too." Daisy Julian crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it in the trash as they marched towards the whirring, iron towers. "But we knew this was coming."

"Still. War isn't over yet. Hitler may have blown off his own head, but Hirohito is still pulling strong."

Daisy cranked the lever on the propeller machine. Neatening her kerchief to make sure her hair was tucked safe underneath and smoothing out her jumpsuit to confirm that there were no loose strings or tabs that could get caught in the gears and tear her to shreds, she pressed the start button. It was a ritual she had followed nearly every day for the last three years.

"You gonna quit?" Frances shouted over the din, still lingering by her friend. The fiery redhead shifted restlessly, dancing on her toes like she did when she was angry.

"Nope."

"There might be other places hiring, paying more."

"Don't care about the pay."

"Oh that's right. You have that rich grandmother-"

"Yeah, yeah, my grandmother." Daisy waved a hand.

"You just did this for fun, right? Three years at the General Motors plant sharpening propellers and nearly getting yourself killed a handful of times, that was all for laughs-"

"Stop trying to pick a fight with me!" Daisy smirked over her shoulder at her friend. "If you want to put up your dukes with someone, go march over to the shift manager and tell him how you really feel."

Frances sniffed, sticking her hands in her pockets and shuffling her feet like a child. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Just go get to your machine. We'll talk about this later," Daisy hollered then turned back to her work.

Daisy knew what they were doing at the top. Women working in factories had been a vital component for the war effort, but it would never last. Her own grandmother had prophesied so back in 1942 when she'd gotten the job. Men were returning from overseas and they needed their jobs back. It was time for Rosie the Riveter to put up her lunch pail and safety goggles and get back to the kitchen. 

The General Motors plant in Trenton was going about this business subtly. A cut in pay, a lame excuse about the decreased need for planes, and the ladies were expected to take a hint. After all, it was only a matter of time till Japan threw in the towel. Most Americans on the homefront were becoming more optimistic as rationing lessened and night clubs began to fill with eager young people, grasping at the chance to live their lives once again.

Daisy decided to bide her time. She enjoyed the ritual of waking up at 4AM, making herself a Spam and egg sandwich, then catching the train for Trenton. She liked working the machines. It was methodical and comforting, pulling the same levers and pushing the same buttons. She liked feeling useful.

It helped her to forget things.

The whistle blew at 5PM on the dot and her twelve hour shift was up. Gathering her things, she met Frances at the door. Her friend appeared to have calmed down, probably from sheer exhaustion. It was the end of their work week. 

Six days a week with Sundays off. Twelve hours married to a machine. For a second, Daisy froze at the thought that it would all end in a matter of years. Odd how dependent she had become on a machine. Almost like a sweetheart that you knew you'd break up with eventually.