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next-autopsy · 5 months

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A/N: Well, hi there!

I'm back! Hope y'all enjoy this chapter, lmk what you think, I love hearing from you guys x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: swearing, casual 1940s racism, yelling/fighting, not much else tbh....

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz hmu if you want to be added

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty one: Chock-a-Block

The next month was uneventful compared to previous ones. June was slow and felt heavy, dragging on and seeming longer than it was. Birdie spent a lot of the month by George’s side The two became increasingly close, sharing all sorts of pleasantries and childhood stories. Birdie loved hearing about his nine siblings and the practical jokes he pulled on them. It reminded her of her own mischievous family who she was missing more than ever.

July came and went by comparison. Birdie received a letter from her brother-in-law, stating his wife, her oldest sister, Helen had safely given birth to the couple's second child. They already had a little boy, Daniel and now were blessed with a girl. They named her Gracie, a variation of Bernadette's middle name and asked her to be the newborns' Godmother. Of course she was ecstatic and accepted gleefully. Sadly, she would miss the babies christening but the sentiment was there.

By the end of August, rumours were spreading that they would soon be on the move. Their next destination was a curious speculation. A bet ran through the regiment: Europe or the Pacific?

September started and the 506th was preparing to move once again, leaving Camp Mackall behind. Easy presented themselves prim and proper in their class A uniforms and packed everything they had in the basic olive green sacks provided for their belongings.

A train awaited them, the soldiers climbed aboard without question. It was packed but no one minded too much, they just bunched up and invaded their neighbours personal space like it was a game.

Bernadette shuffled through the teeny walkway of the moving train, legs and bags stuck out making her journey that much more difficult.

“Birdie! Saved you a seat!” Her attention was captured by the brown haired man calling out to her. She smiled when she saw him, guarding the space next to him like it was his job. Bernadette tried to make her way closer to Luz but the train wobbled and threw her off balance. She toppled over ungracefully and landed atop someone's lap.

She began spitting out apologies and her face turned red, rightfully embarrassed by the situation. When she looked up and saw Liebgott's face smirking at her, she wanted to die; right then and there.

“Good trip?” That shit eating grin made Birdie want to slap him, she settled for rolling her eyes and scoffing instead. Birdie got up and balanced herself, making sure to use his shoulders to aid her ascent. She shoved him hard enough for him to understand she was less than pleased about the whole ordeal, but in a playful manner so that he knew she wasn’t really mad. Joe smiled at her, a genuine smile that reached his eyes and caused her to reciprocate.

“Birdie!” George called out again, sensing she was distracted and needed some prompting. She whipped her head round to him and nodded to show she had heard the impatient man.

“You better go before he screams so loud the whole train hears.” Lieb joked, he didn’t really want to send her away but there was no real reason for her to stay. The southern woman spoke softly, telling him she would see him around before joining her friend at the other end of the train car.

Liebgott had been accepted into her posse with little resistance, he was already friends with most of the guys she hung around anyway. It was mainly Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere who didn’t love the fact that he and Bernadette were on friendlier terms, the two still held grudges against him for his previous treatment of the woman. He didn't really blame them, he had been particularly difficult when it came to Coldwell.

Over the past months, Joe had come to terms with the fact he actually wanted to be Birdie’s friend. Tipper kept trying to get a love confession out of him but he was adamant it wasn't like that. Sure he liked the woman, but in a totally platonic way of course. Besides, they were both soldiers being sent to the front lines, when would they have time to date and fall in love? Not that he wanted that. He didn’t.

Joseph Liebgott was perfectly happy being friends with Bernadette Coldwell and that was that.

The train had taken hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers aboard to a shipyard in Brooklyn, New York. It was Birdie’s first time in the city, though she didn't get to see much of it as they were ushered onto the SS Samaria in an orderly fashion.

The sun began settling, turning the sky a beautiful mix of pink and pastel orange, Birdie's favourite shade of the fiery colour. Luz had snagged a life vest for the woman and shoved it on her so he could pull her out onto the deck and watch as the ship passed the statue of liberty.

It was a surreal moment, one Bernadette would always remember. The green lady loomed over them, as if bidding the soldiers goodbye and good luck. It felt real now, they were finally leaving their beloved home country and joining the war effort.

As the ship left the mainland of America behind, the sombre mood grew. George and Birdie shared a cigarette on the deck before returning to the bunks below. It was crowded, more than the train had been and now, the lack of space was starting to get on everyone's nerves.

Everyone tried to keep themselves busy, playing cards, writing letters home or reading whatever books they could find. Most of the men smoked freely which caused the already state air locked in with them to be tainted with tobacco.

After five full days stuck in the overcrowded, sweaty mass of men, Birdie had had enough. She was ready to get off this ship, unsure if she could take another day. She had seen men get sick from the constant swaying and vomit where they stood and now she was noticing the raise in tempers as cabin fever descended.

It was unbelievably hot and all Birdie wanted was some fresh air and silence but conversation continued on around her, disregarding her wants.

She could hear Muck and Malarkey chatting to each other while they approached the area she was stewing in. The men in question climbed up the sides of the hammock like cots as you would a ladder and settled into the spaces next to and above her.

“Hey guys, I’m glad I'm going to Europe.” Toye spoke up, inserting himself into the conversation. He pulled out his switchblade knife and flicked it open for dramatic effect, “Hilter gets one of these right across the windpipe. Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye day, and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

“What if we don’t get to Europe? What if they send us to North Africa?” A voice from above Birdie called down. The woman tried to shuffle closer to Bill, her bunk mate, to see who it was but his body got in the way and unless Birdie wanted to mount the man, it would remain a mystery. Bill ruffled her hair and plucked the cigarette out of her hand.

“My brothers in North Africa.” Guarnere took a long drag of the stolen smoke, “He says it's hot.”

“Really? It’s hot in Africa?” You could actually see the sarcasm coming off of Malakey and he paused his reading of the comic he held in front of him to make fun of the man's obvious comment.

“Shuddup!” The Philadelphian shot at the redhead before continuing, “The point is, it don’t matter where we go.” Birdie reclaimed her cigarette while Bill was distracted, mid sentence, “Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself, and the fella next to you.”

Bernadette cleared her throat, raising her eyebrow at her talkative friend as if to tell him to rethink his words. Bill rolled his eyes and added, “Or lady next to ya. Happy?” She nodded, that would suffice.

“Hey, as long as he’s- uh… they’re a paratrooper.” Toye added from his place by their boots, trying to avoid a glare from the Mississippi woman.

“Oh yeah?” Luz exclaimed from the opposite side of the aisle, “And what if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?” He was climbing up to his bunk on the top most rack, George hoisted himself up and past Christenson, who added his two cents to the discussion,

“If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving on down the line. Hook up with some other officer, like Heyliger or Winters.” Pat had a special hatred for the CO after he was made to march twenty-four miles, full pack and in the dark, half of it completely alone; all on Sobel’s orders.

“I like Winters. He’s a good man.” Bill began speaking once more. It was then that Birdie noticed Skip leaning over his hammock above her and poking his head down so she and Malarkey could see him. Malarkey eyed up the cigarette he had in his hand and silently asked Muck for a puff, she shook her head and giggled at the two.

“But when the bullets start flying, I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me.” Guarnere thieved Birdie’s nearly finished smoke yet again, she responded with an outraged, “Hey!” but he ignored her, pushing himself up and jumping down to the ground. Bernadette shuffled over into the empty space Guarnere had left.

“How do you know he’s a Quaker?” Skip asked, flipping down into Birdie’s, now vacant, cot and giving her an unlit cigarette to make up for the blatant robbery he had witnessed.

“He ain’t Catholic.” Bill shrugged, snubbing out the butt of his pilfered tobacco stick on the floor with his boot.

“Neither is Sobel.” Don called, passing his comic to Skip who immediately started flicking through the pages with interest.

“That pricks a Son of Abraham.”

“He’s what?” Liebgott, who sat across from where Bill now stood, had perked up at the term he used. He was happy to listen in to the conversation, it kept his mind occupied but when the expression was used like a slur he had to say something.

“He’s a Jew.” Bill clarified, assuming Lieb just hadn't heard the phrase before.

“Oh fuck…” Liebgott muttered under his breath, he laughed but not because anything humorous had been said. He threw the cigarette butt he was fiddling with down before shuffling off his bunk and jumping. He landed with a thud and stepped over to Guarnere so they were face to face. Joe looked down at the man, chest puffed, “I’m a Jew.”

Several men (and Birdie) sat up or shuffled closer to the two hot heads, anticipating a fight to break out.

“Congratulations.” Pronounced bitingly, not actually intended to congratulate, “Get your nose outta my face.” Bill pushed Lieb’s chest, forcing him backwards.

Birdie stared, she knew Lieb was going to swing, she could see him planning it out in his mind. She noticed his curled fist and knew an attack was imminent, before she could do anything, Lieb took a jab. His target blocked him and they grabbed onto each other attempting to… Birdie didn’t know what. Strangle each other? Hug? Who knew?

Multiple men also grabbed into the pair but no one could break them apart. Birdie scoffed and jumped down, she shoved people out of her way and when she got close enough to see her friends through the growing crowd, she yelled. It was the loudest her voice had ever gone; a screech, if you will.

“That’s enough!” Her words froze the horde of angry sweaty men. Bill and Joe still held onto each other, fists grabbed onto handfuls of shirt but now their focus was on the girl. She huffed and pushed surrounding men away from the idiots who began the kerfuffle until she reached them. Everyone else watched on, curious to see angry Birdie in action.

Bernadette yanked them apart, fuming. She turned to Guarnere first, her eyebrows were furrowed and her teeth clenched.

“You!” She pointed to him, glaring, “Keep that prejudice bullshit to yourself! No one wants to hear your stupid ass opinions! What the fuck is your problem?” Bill shrunk back, he had never seen Birdie this angry before and he didn't care to see it again. The woman whipped around to face Joe, he was smiling at her rude comments aimed at the man he wanted to punch. His joy in the situation only pissed her off more, if that were even possible.

“You think this is funny, huh?” She hissed at him, Joe’s smile dropped.

“Not everything is a personal attack so calm the fuck down. Why do you think punching him is the solution to everything?” The question was rhetorical so Joe only looked down to the floor, avoiding eye contact with the scary southerner. She was absolutely at her wits end and just had to get out of there.

“It’s like a fuckin’ pissin’ contest in here, Jesus!” Birdie growled as she turned and stomped off to get some fresh air on the deck of the overcrowded ship.

A/N: ooooo she's mad...

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter twenty two

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #made of glass chapter twenty one #next autopsy #george luz #joe liebgott #joe toye #bill guarnere #pat christenson #skip muck #donald malarkey

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 year

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Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, smut. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upottery Airfield, England June 1944

The downpour of rain pounded on the wooden roof, echoing through the barracks and causing a deafening echoing. It seeped through the cracks and dropped down onto the men seated below, tricking down the backs of their necks and eliciting shivers. The jump had been called off again due to poor flying conditions and Bob and the other members of the Airborne Division were huddled in one of the wooden huts, still equipped with nearly everything they needed for the jump, faces smeared with black paint and a deep sense of defeat hanging in the air.

Most of the men had dumped their stuff back in their sleeping quarters, including the British issued leg bags that while none of the men had jumped with before in training, had been rammed full of extra ammunition and supplies. Overall each man was carrying about 100 extra pounds, some being 150 extra pounds, this was the point when Bob was truly glad he was a rifleman and not part of the mortar or machine gun squads. Everyone had been so prepared, veins pumping with adrenaline at the thought of their impending jump, only to be shot down in flames by the English weather yet again. Considering their almost disastrous practice run of D-Day at Slapton Sands, an air of uneasiness hung over the men. Bob picked carelessly at the seam of his cuff, pulling at the loose thread absentmindedly. It’s not like anyone would care if he had a thread loose now, Lewis wouldn’t be there to make him run Currahee again. Captain Lewis' words ran through Bob’s mind.

“You think you’re paratroopers, you’re not. You are children. You are a disgrace to this regiment.”

Bob thought it was the happiest day of his life when the regiment was shipped to England. Captain Lewis was staying in the States to train new paratroopers so Captain Moore had taken his place. Moore was a kind faced man who was far more knowledgeable than Lewis and had his men’s upmost respect. No more Captain Lewis, no more Currahea, but no more (y/n). After Toccoa, they had been split up for a while when Bob went to Fort Benning for his Airborne training but they met up again at several other bases, including Camp Mackall, much to Albert Miller’s dismay as he turned a blind eye to Bob sneaking into the aid station to steal her away. Bob had thought of (y/n) often during the crossing to England. Curled up on his tiny bunk bed, he’d lovingly traced his finger over the picture she’d given him, her bright smiling face staring back at him as he solemnly looked on. He’d tucked that picture into the breast pocket of his uniform, wanting to keep her close to his heart in the long days ahead.

(Y/n) and the other nurses from the Army Nurse Corps had been stationed at a military hospital in another part of England and while Bob was glad you weren’t going to Normandy with him, his heart already ached for you to be back in his arms. He’d been fortunate enough to have a seven day pass to London with some of the other men, which just so happened to coincide with your leave, meaning you’d spent seven blissful days together exploring the capital. Deep down he wished he’d told you how he truly felt but he knew nothing good could have come from it, not with war right around the corner. He loved you and while you had both loved each other, you’d said it in every way but those three words. He thought back to your last night together, curled up in the crumpled sheets back in London. (Y/n) had snuck Bob into her hotel room and they did their best to keep the noise down despite their antics. Bob smiled at the thought of her soft skin beneath his hands, plump lips against his, legs tangled together beneath the sheets.

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Bob’s hand roamed up her thighs, unclasping her stockings and rolling them down simultaneously, taking as long as possible so he could savour each moment. She watched him intently, her heart beating quicker at the sight of him, his normally blue eyes were dark and filled with lust. He slid her skirt up, placing gentle kisses on her inner thighs as his hands pulled down her panties. He pushed her legs further apart before burying his face between her legs, placing a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin. She gasped, letting her head roll back against the bed, her cheeks blushing furiously as she groaned as Bob began to suck at her clit, his tongue toying with her folds. She squeezed her eyes shut, gasping loudly as she grabbed a fistful of Bob’s hair, pulling it harshly. Bob moaned as he began fumbling her clit between his teeth, the action only causing (y/n) to moan louder. The pleasure she felt was intense and she breathlessly mumbled, her whole body feeling hot all over as the pleasure pulsed through her.

“I’m so close,” she cried but Bob didn’t answer, his tongue working tirelessly to bring her to ecstasy. Bob slipped one finger, and then two into her, causing her to arch her back, crying out his name. Bob pumped his fingers slowly as she rode out her orgasm, clenching around his fingers, as the grip on his hair grew ever tighter until she relaxed. (Y/n) didn’t realise she’d had her eyes closed until she opened up and saw Bob looking down at her, a shy smile on his lips glistening with her wetness. Y/N could feel her whole body buzzing from the afterglow of her orgasm but she released Bob’s hair, running her hand down to cup his cheek and pull him in for a tender kiss. She could taste herself on his lips and she moaned into the kiss. (Y/n) pulled away, running her fingers over Bob’s swollen lips and hummed in appreciation. His once neatly gelled hair was dishevelled, his neck sporting a few bruises from her kisses earlier and his blue eyes watching her like a love-sick puppy. It amazed her how Bob could go from this love-making machine to the sweet boy that now sat in front of her. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth she gave him a devilish grin.

“I want you…” she trailed her fingers down Bob’s chest, unbuttoning it as she went. “I want you…” she repeated and (y/n) could see Bob’s eyes growing darker as he watched her actions.

“As you wish, Doll.”

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“Hey, stop doing that,” Jackson hissed, swatting Bob’s hand away. “Stop picking your sleeve.”

“Why?” Bob hissed back a little sharper than he had meant to. “It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to be.” Jackson sighed, knocking his friend playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t be in such a hurry to get yourself killed, Floyd.”

Jackson was right, the radioman was always right. He had a strange sense of humour and a boyish grin that caused women to fall at his feet. Bob thought he was only about 18 but he was 21, a full-grown adult, Jackson often reminded him. Bob was 23, and although he wasn’t much older than Jackson, he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’d been promoted to Staff Sergeant of 2nd platoon during their parachute training and Bob felt like he’d taken on the responsibility of the whole of Easy Company, not just a few Privates and Corporals. Jackson continued to talk in a hushed whisper but Bob had tuned out, his mind wandering to home, as the black and white images of the movie played before his eyes. Back in the States, it was about 5 pm, Bob thought to himself, imagining his mother cooking dinner in the kitchen whilst trying to control his two rowdy younger brothers. One of his brothers had asked Bob to bring back a Luger and much to his mother's dismay he’d promised he’d try. But honestly, Bob didn’t want to bring anything back from the war, he didn’t want his family to have any connection to the horrors he knew he’d be facing. No, the only thing Bob wanted to bring home from the war was you. He could imagine it now, painting the scene vividly in his mind of you helping his mother in the kitchen, playing in the yard with his brothers, and chatting with his father around the breakfast table. That was the image Bob wanted to stay with him forever.

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Bob had never felt travel sick before, even as a young boy he’d loved long car journeys but sat in what felt like a rickety tin of an aircraft waiting to jump out into the darkness above Normandy, Bob couldn’t stop his stomach from churning. It came in waves, rolling over him like a tide as he swallowed down the vomit that threatened to erupt from his mouth at any second. Doc Miller had issued the men with travel sickness tablets for the journey and although no one had a problem with this in training, many were grateful for them now. Captain Nelson, who had been promoted to Easy Company’s CO before D-Day, waved his hands at the men, indicating it was time to clip themselves onto the line and prepare to jump. Bob stood, his legs shaking like they were made of jelly and about to give way at any given moment. After 22 months of training the day had finally come, this was the big jump. The men on either side of him jostled about, knocking into each other like dominos. The green light appeared in the doorway and Bob watched as Lieutenant Nelson jumped out of the plane, disappearing into the night. One after another the paratroopers jumped, each jumping into enemy fire. When Bob’s turn came his palms were sweating and his knees nearly buckled.

“Go, go, go,” the paratrooper behind Bob shouted and Bob jumped. Flung into the night sky he hurriedly scrambled to hold onto the strings of his parachute in a desperate attempt to steer himself the best he could. Around him shells erupted in the sky, hitting the C47 planes. Bob watched in utter horror as one of the planes exploded before the soldiers even had time to jump, erupting in flames and hurtling towards Normandy.

The landing was rough, Bob couldn’t judge the distance from the ground and as his ankle connected with the floor he felt a surge of pain shoot up his leg. Scrambling to his feet, he gathered up the silk parachute, cutting the ties and hurriedly picking up his M1 Garand, his hands shaking as he hurriedly assembled it. Around him, gunfire echoed through the night as he hurried towards a group of trees. Ducking down Bob watched as several other paratroopers landed, most of them had been spread far and wide across Normandy due to the poor conditions and inexperience of the pilots but a lucky few landed together. Bob stood, shuffling out from his hiding place, his rifle raised.

The other paratroopers turned to him, “Flash?” One of them shouted out.

“Thunder,” Bob replied and he saw the three men visibly relaxed.

“Welcome,” they called back and Bob emerged from his hiding place waving to the other men who approached quickly, all squatting down, wide eyes darting around them in panic. Bob recognised two of the men from Dog Company but he couldn’t say he knew them, just from the odd encounters during training. The other man was unfamiliar to Bob, and the others it would seem, he stayed on the edge of the group, staying silent.

“Who are you?” Bob asked, his voice coming out in a harsh whisper and the young man looked behind him as if he wasn’t sure Bob was addressing him.

“I’m Private Garcia, from the 82nd Airborne Division, Sir,” he addressed Bob quietly, his cheeks blushing as he sat under the scrutiny of the three soldiers.

“82nd!” One of the men from Dog Company exclaimed. “Where the fuck are we?”

“I don’t know but we need to keep moving,” Bob stood motioning for the others to follow him. “Stay with us until we find your Division.” He told Garcia who nodded, following along at the back of the group. Along the way the group caught up with a small groups of other paratroopers from Able and Baker Company, all heading to the rendezvous point.

By the time they caught up with the others and regrouped, Easy Company had won its first of many battles.

“Floyd, you should have seen it. Everyone was firing and Lieutenant Nelson was instructing us to clear out the German’s trenches and we destroyed their 105mm,” Jackson reeled off, sounding far too excited about his first battle, his first victory. “And when the Tiger Tank came over the hill I was sure we were done for, we were out of TNT but then the M4s came out of the tree line and we sent them running for the hills.”

Bob smiled at the radioman who was still enthusiastically reeling off the day's events. He wished he had been there, fighting alongside his friends but he knew there would be many chances for that in the coming days. He left Jackson telling the story to the two men from Dog Company and Garcia from the 82nd and he made his way across the camp in search of Doc Miller. He found the medic in one of the abandoned buildings patching up a young, fresh-faced soldier, he didn’t look any worse for wear considering he’d been shot in the arm and smiled at Bob when he entered. Bob nodded his head in acknowledgement, waiting for the soldier to leave before approaching his friend. Miller looked up at him, his face still smeared in the remnants of black paint from the drop.

“Boy am I glad to see you, Doc. I’d recognise those dulcet tones anywhere,” Bob perched himself on one of the wooden chairs in the corner of the room, leaning his head against the wall with a dramatic sigh. The rumble of the M4s and trucks passed by outside, causing the wrecked beholding to shake, dust leaking through the holes in the roof, and the shouts of other platoon leaders sounded far away as Bob huddled further into his jacket, his eyes closed in the hope of a moment's peace. Miller let out a laugh, his heavy boots causing the floorboards to creak as he approached.

“Have you seen Jackson yet?” His smooth southern accent sounded like music to Bob’s ears after the night of endless complaints he’d endured from the Dog Company lads.

“Who hasn’t? He’s been telling half of the 101st what happened and anyone from the 82nd who would listen.” Bob was unable to wipe the coquettish smirk from his face as both men laughed, the young radioman’s enthusiasm was endearing really, his boyish charm radiating onto everyone who met him.

“How are you holding up?” Doc asked, eyeing Bob’s ankle that he had balanced on the table in front of him.

Bob snorted, “Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Doc. I’ll just walk it off.” Bob jumped as he felt Miller’s cold fingers resting against the exposed skin of his ankle and hissed as the medic began to manoeuvre his boot off his foot. Deep purple bruises penetrated the skin and the whole foot was swollen, the skin stretched thinly over the inflamed area. Miller sighed, fishing in his bag and pulling out some fresh, white bandages. He strapped Bob’s foot tightly, winding the scratchy material around it before replacing his sock.

“I want you to keep off of it as much as possible and keep it raised when you can.” Miller’s eyes were stern as he looked at Bob but the playfulness behind his dark eyes made Bob smile.

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Bob grinned, pulling his boot back on and lacing it as best he could before hobbling back outside. Bob knew that this was just the beginning of what was yet to come.

“Oh Floyd,” Miller called after him, causing Bob to stop in his tracks, his heavy boots coming to a loud halt. “Did you hear about Captain Moore?”

Bob frowned, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “No, what happened?”

“His plane was hit, no one even got the chance to jump. Poor bastards didn’t stand a chance.” Miller looked solemn. “Nelson’s now Easy’s CO and it looks like he’ll be promoted to Captain after today.”

Bob nodded, no words needed to be exchange from the news. Captain Moore would have been a good combat leader had he been given the chance to prove himself but Bob and the rest of East Company knew that Lieutenant Nelson was more than capable of leading them to greatness.

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Dear Doll,

By now you’ve probably heard that we’ve landed in Normandy. The drop was hard and we lost a lot of good men but so far our advances have been successful. The Germans aren’t making this easy for us but we knew that no part of this god-forsaken war was going to be easy. We’re being sent back to Aldbourne for some R and R, for how long I do not know. There is very little they tell us, even Leuitenant Nelson seems to be kept in the dark. I can’t wait to see you once I’m back in England. I can’t tell you much more than that my love but just know I miss you so much. I think of you every night before I sleep and every morning when I wake and all the time in between. I’ll try to write to you as much as I can. I hold your letters close to my heart, my darling, and your picture. They keep me going when I feel that I can’t go on. I love you and I’ll see you soon. Love your Bobby

Dear Bobby,

I was so glad to receive your letter before we shipped out. I am being moved to an aid station somewhere in France to help the wounded soldiers. I don’t yet know where I will be stationed but I will try to write to you as soon as I can. I’m sorry to be missing you in Aldbourne. I’ve missed you so much Bob, not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I can’t believe it’s been over a month since you left. This place just doesn’t feel the same without you. I feel as if you took part of me with you the day you left, just promise me you’ll bring it back. How is Albert getting on? Please send him my love. I’ve missed having all of you boys around. I love you my darling. Your (y/n) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @callsign-phoenix @shadowsintheknight @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @alexxavicry @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @sunlightmurdock @airedale17 @callmemana @shadowolf993 @t-nd-rfoot @topguncultleader @flyboyjake @emorychase @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @jstarr86 @starkleila @callsignmeiga

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd ww2 #101stairbornedivision #ww2 au #robert bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader

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dontirrigateme · 2 months

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Officers from the 555th Parachute Infantry Regiment, Camp Mackall, 1945

#PIR #555th #triple nickels #ww2 #wwii

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military1st · 4 months

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Jumping into the New Year like.

U.S. Army Parachute Team members, the Black Knights, conduct a military free-fall airborne operation from a C-27 during Operation Toy Drop at Camp Mackall, N.C.

The U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Alex Manne (2015).

#army #military #us army #us military #armed forces #military life #army strong #troops #veteran #soldier #patriot #paratroopers #tactical #tactical gear #tacticool #training #exercise #parachute #military 1st

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winnix85 · 5 months

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In late March 1945, Kathy took her baby boy Michael to move from Camp Mackall to Santa Barbara to live with Mrs Stanhope Nixon. Then, Kathy's auntie came to visit. Then Kathy's mother came to join the group in Sep 1945.

#Nice #Welcome home #I'm sure they won't gang up on Lewis Nixon #and pressure him to sign divorce papers #You can see the confusion about Lew's rank #He never wrote to them #band of brothers #Lewis Nixon

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rogue-durin-16 · 1 year

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ROGUE-DURIN-16'S BAND OF BROTHERS MASTERLIST

Key: f=fluff || a=angst || f-a=fluff+angst || ≈f=mostly fluff || ≈a=mostly angst || os=oneshot || hc=headcanons ||mp=multipart || ?=request || db=drabble/blurb

Back to the front line (≈a|os|?)

Mutuals as BoB characters (x)

• DONALD MALARKEY

Request could request a malarkey x reader where the reader got shot in Bastogne and they meet again in Haguenau? w/ a happy ending and teasin from the boys?

Smile for me [Part I] [Part II] [Part III] (f-a|mp)

Summary: a young promising war photographer is sent to document the Airborne's first missions on french soil, where she inevitably meets Easy Company, and Don Malarkey becomes immediately smitten by her. Lucky him, France wouldn't be the only place in which their paths would cross.

• GEORGE LUZ

'Bout damn time (f|os|?)

Request: Could you write some George Luz fluff where he and the company's female medic have had crushes on each other since Toccoa and their feelings come out while watching Trigger for Talbert while in Holland (set around the Crossroads episode)?

It's just me (f|os)

Summary: Y/n Y/I/n has been playing the matchmaker role for the Easy Company boys since Camp Mackall. Curious about how she is so good at it, George Luz questions his friend about a few things, which leads to one dangerous question; who does the matchmaker fancy?

Stranded (f-alos|?)

Request: may I request a stuck together overnight fic with Luz??

See you around (a|os)

Summary: for most of Easy Company, war took away more than it gave. Pieces of them stayed buried six feet under in foreign land while they were forced to carry on with their lives. George Luz and Y/n Y/I/n, who took time for granted, were no strangers to this tragic fate.

Secrets of an Austrian night (f|os|?)

Summary: Turns out all Y/n needed to pour their heart out was a sleepless night by the fire in a lovely Austrian hotel.

• JOSEPH LIEBGOTT

You got me, I got you (a|os)

Summary; the European conflict seems to be coming to an end when Easy Company stumbles upon the true horrors of it. This terrible discovery shakes Liebgott to his core, forcing him to be pulled back by Y/n. Having some time alone with each other, their friendship appears to be reaching its culmination.

Handle the situation (a|os|?)

Request: Can I request an angsty lieb x reader fic in which the reader pushes alley away from the potato masher at crossroads and it hits her instead and like joe is literally dying inside cuz they had been fighting prior to that?

Poison in your coffee (f|os|?)

Request: got a request for you, Liebgott x reader with the prompt "+If I were your wife, I'd put poison in your tea/-If I were your husband, I'd drink it"?? Not too angsty.

The bridesmaid problem (≈f|os)

Summary: Y/n and Joe's friendship, much like the war, came to an abrupt end in Berchtesgaden. Years later, in their close friend's wedding, fate provides them a second chance to mend what they broke off.

• WILLIAM GUARNERE

Deserve better (f-a|os|?)

Request: Can request angst to fluff fic with bill guarnere x reader, where maybe they see each other after the war, when she comes to Philadelphia to see him but he's like, 'you should find someone better than me' y'know?

• MULTI PAIRINGS

Sniper s/o (f|hc|?)

The boys reacting to their significant other being a great shot and having a high kill count. (Luz, Liebgott, Malarkey, Shifty)

Artsy!reader & Easy Co. (f|hc|?)

The boys reacting to the reader sketching them. (Toye, Luz, Bull, Shifty)

Women in suits (f|hc|?)

The boys admiring women wearing suits. (Malarkey, Hoobler, Luz, Shifty, Bull)

#band of brothers masterlist #don malarkey x reader #george luz x reader #bill guarnere x reader #shifty powers x reader #joe toye x reader #bull randleman x reader #joe liebgott x reader

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merveilleuxmedecin · 14 days

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Eugene Gilbert Roe

𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐬

An au portrayal of Eugene Roe from Band of Brothers. mv/ss. bisexual - ship with chem. MDNI.

Historical: Roe enlisted in the U.S. Army at Lafayette, Louisiana in 1942. He was made a combat medic and worked hard to learn his position. He was assigned to Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, at Camp Toccoa, where he trained under martinet Captain Herbert Sobel. After Toccoa, he graduated from jump school at Fort Benning and did extra training at Camps Mackall and Shanks. (Will tag as historical eugene roe rp)

Modern: Roe is a medical student who suffers from a dangerous addiction — morphine. He tries his best to get through his day to day life and endulges in the nighttime. He is a fun loving man when he is around his friends. (Will tag as modern eugene roe rp)

#eugene roe roleplay #roleplay #band of Brothers roleplay #band of brothers rp #eugene roe rp #rp #doc roe rp #doc roe roleplay #tea rp

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softguarnere · 1 year

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Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 6: Nothing to Hide

Summary: Zenie swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “Could have been worse.”

Warnings: language

A/N: Ya girl has been in a Mood™️ today, and since I have a feeling that the storm is gonna knock out my wifi, have another early LAGLAM update, on the house 😉

Taglist: @liebgotts-lovergirl @latibvles @lieutenant-speirs

March, 1943 – Camp Mackall, NC

Liebgott is the best at cutting hair and his prices are fair. If you’re a paratrooper and you want your hair cut and you want it cut right, then he’s your man. He’ll throw around jokes, talk about camp drama if that’s your style. And if not, he’ll work quickly and quietly through the silence without complaint.

They never talk while he cuts Zenie’s hair. This is mostly on her, because ever since that day in Toccoa when he accused her of being “performance shy”, she swears that every time he looks at her he sees straight through her disguise. She wants a good haircut. What she doesn’t want is for her observant barber to hear her voice up close and realize that – despite all her practice and effort – it’s probably more feminine than it should be.

He's close to being done and Zenie is counting down the minutes. Liebgott might be a nice guy to joke around with under different circumstances, but she’d rather get back to her friends, who are less observant.

Behind her, Liebgott sucks in a breath, and she’s worried that he’s about to say something when Luz rounds the corner, fiddling with what appears to be a stack of papers.

He smiles. It’s duller than usual. “Hey ho, Tommy Boy!”

“Hiya Luz. Watchya got there?”

The radioman looks down, his mouth dropping into an O of shock. Then he smirks. “Oh, this old thing? Just some maps that I’m helping the Black Swan misplace.”

Liebgott snorts, his hands still preoccupied with Zenie’s hair. “Plain sight is the best hiding place. I’d try slipping them into Regimental HQ.”

“Or the kitchens,” Zenie suggests. “He spends a lot of time in there.”

Luz taps his nose. “Those are both good. We have that field exercise tomorrow, and I don’t want him to find them before then.”

“Put ‘em under his own mattress,” Zenie jokes, thinking about the hiding place she used back in Toccoa. No one ever looked under or in her mattress until Eugene started helping her. And who would think to look under their own mattress for missing maps?

The laugh that escapes Luz isn’t as jolly as it usually is. It’s offkey, sour. “Yeah, that’d be some sort of poetic justice.”

Liebgott’s hands pause. “How?”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Obviously not.”

Luz tilts his head, motioning for them to follow him as he shoves the maps into his pocket. Zenie turns to Liebgott, whose eyebrows are drawn in a way that must mirror her own. He gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, “You’re all through, Tommy” before they follow George away.

“Holy shit,” Liebgott says when they step into the barracks.

“Holy shit,” Zenie echoes. Her stomach drops at the sight before her.

The barracks look as if a tornado has swept through them. Mattresses have been toppled off of beds, the sheets that once adorned them tangled together in heaps on the floor. Footlockers have been forced open and toppled over, their belongings spilling out. Socks and underwear are everywhere. Letters line the floors. Even their pillows haven’t escaped the massacre, Zenie notes as she watches a few paratroopers trying to seal up holes in the sides of theirs.

“Fuckin’ Sobel,” Liebgott mutters, taking a step further into the mess.

Surveying the carnage, the room suddenly feels cold, like ice water has been poured down the back of her shirt. Zenie has nothing to hide – no physical belongings to hide, anyway – yet she feels exposed. Her hands shake as she reaches her bed, pulling her mattress back onto it before she searches the floor for her few letters from Bobby.

Thank God none of them call her by her real name or mention her secret.

Thank God for Eugene helping her keep her secret.

Around her, the others are comparing the damage done to their personal belongings, but their voices seem distant. She plucks a sock off of her pillow and busies herself trying to put it into a neat ball. Everyone else is pissed off because they feel like their privacy has been violated, like their secrets have been laid bare. Ironic, that she – with the biggest secret of them all – somehow had nothing to hide and got of scot-free. A trickle of cold sweat runs down her spine as she takes it all in.

“You okay?” A gentle voice beside her pulls her from her thoughts and back into the loud, indignant atmosphere. Gene’s hand is paused halfway to her shoulders, like he was going to place one there to comfort her before thinking better of it.

Zenie swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “Could have been worse.”

They look around at the rest of the company. Someone is complaining that all of his letters are gone. Someone’s socks were stolen. A few men are packing their belongings away for good, readying themselves to be shipped home after what was found in their belongings.

Eugene nods. “Coulda been much worse.”

The deep, throaty croaking of a crow in the branches above her makes Zenie pause mid-step. Back home, the crows that hung around the farm usually only made that noise when someone entered their woods, or when they sensed some sort of perceived danger. She holds her breath and waits. Sure enough, someone – or something – rustles the greenery nearby.

On instinct she crouches and freezes, turning her attention towards the noise.

To her right, a group of paratroopers and a medic are crouched around an unconscious body, giggling and talking quickly. It becomes obvious the second that one of them lifts the body that whoever it might be is unconscious. She almost starts to worry that there has been an actual accident, but when she creeps closer she realizes two things: the paratroopers are pulling down the unconscious body's pants, and that the unconscious body in question belongs to none other than Captain Sobel.

Curiosity satisfied, she turns away and heads back in her original direction. It’s supposed to be a training exercise. No one is supposed to get hurt. Yet she has a feeling that things will be much worse for Sobel when they get into actual combat. Especially since what she just saw is definitely born out of revenge, no doubt about it.

Maybe the next time that there’s a boxing match, Sobel will try his luck and get in the ring. It’s too bad that Bill stopped boxing once he got promoted from corporal to squad sergeant. He’d have a thing or two to show their captain when the gloves were on. Then again, Liebgott’s a hell of a boxer. It probably wouldn’t take much convincing for him to get into the ring and show Sobel what’s what.

That’s what he gets for going through our stuff and taking our weekend passes, she thinks. Remembering the barracks – turned inside out and completely trashed, people’s personal effects strewn everywhere, half of it missing – still makes her throat dry. Thank God for Eugene and his friendship. If not for him, her mattress would have been torn open to reveal rolls of bandages and packages of health sponges, and she would have been . . . Court martialed? Thrown in military prison? Or worse, maybe sent home. She makes a mental note to thank him again for keeping both her secret and any supplies she might need safe for her.

In a different part of her life, or maybe some time back at Toccoa, Zenie might have felt bad about what she just witnessed. Part of her might have felt bad watching Luz and some of the others misplace the Captain’s maps and equipment. If there’s one thing she’s learned recently, it’s that the Airborne is no place for secrets or emotions. She simply tries to numb the feelings, push them down and ignore them, as she plunges into her training.

Ahead of her, she spies more movement that she thinks she recognizes. Sure enough, Popeye turns, allowing her a glimpse of his face through the trees. And beside him moves another familiar figure – one that makes her heart speed up.

No! She swallows, trying to concentrate. These feelings will go away if she ignores them long enough. Then things can go back to normal; she can go on being friends with Shifty without worrying about ruining the whole damn thing.

(Because right now, looking at him is like looking directly into the sun; she feels like she can only do it in glances. She would never ignore him. He’s her friend, and she couldn’t do that to him. Especially when she knows how awful it feels to be the one being ignored. No, it’s just uncomfortable to talk to one of her friends while I think I’m in love with you and I really can’t afford that runs through the back of her mind the entire time. She’s got to find a way to fix this – whatever this is.)

There’s more movement to her left. She turns in time to see the smiling face of Joe Toye.

“Easy, Tommy.” He tilts his head back towards where he came. “Rest of your squad is that way.”

She shoulders her gun and starts after him. Part of her wants to go after Shifty and Popeye instead, but she needs to find the rest of her squad, not follow her heart.

Because no matter how she does or does not feel, here, on the ground, there is only one thing that matters: being prepared to jump into combat. If there’s one thing from her life before the Airborne that is useful, it’s that – as per the usual – her feelings do not matter.

#honestly shocked tumblr let me upload the moodboard with all the rain #Hope y'all are having a nice day btw #lots of love <3 #like a girl (like a man)#my writing #oc zenie mcglamery #shifty powers x original female character #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #hbo war #hbo war fanfic #joe liebgott #george luz #joe toye

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mccall-muffin · 1 year

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Love vs. Hate - Part 6 // Joe Liebgott x OC

Previous Part Summary: Technical Sergeant Olivia Stark knows the military. Raised in a military family, a graduate of military school and OCS herself, she is transferring from the 82nd Airborne Division to the 101st. Between new friends and what appear to be foes, she becomes a part of Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th PIR.

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Shots, a little violence

A/N: Already number 6... And of course, hoping that you still enjoy it ;) xx

Here is my Masterlist

Tag List: @brassknucklespeirs

February 26, 1943 - Fort Benning, GA After another drill in which Captain Sobel screwed up, I walk the campgrounds with Don, Skip, and Penk. We are told that we will be transferred to Camp Mackall that afternoon. Suddenly, however, I see a familiar face. "You've got to be kidding me," I shout, and the man looks up and then starts grinning big. "For fuck's sake, I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, Harry, or should I say, Lieutenant Welsh," I call out and run up to him before giving him a big hug. "Wow, it's good to see you, Kiddo," he returns and lifts me briefly before putting me back down.

Don, Skip, and Penk stand behind us, confused. "What are you doing here?" I ask Harry, and he grins. "I was transferred here. 101st Airborne Division, 2nd Battalion..." "If you say Easy Company now, I'll scream," I say excitedly, and Harry covers his ears before I yelp in delight and give him another hug. "Oh my god! I'm so excited!" I let go of Harry again. "You're going to love it. Except for our CO. He's... special and not particularly capable, but we'll work it out somehow." "What do you mean not capable?" "He gets all nervous in field exercises and can't read a map."

I take a glance behind me. "Oh, by the way, these are Privates Donald Malarkey, Warren Muck, and Alex Penkala," I introduce my friends, taking a step forward. "Guys, this is Lieutenant Harry Welsh. He's from the 82nd and is with us now." "Sir," the three of them say, and Harry nods. "Do you know which platoon yet?" I then ask, but Harry shakes his head. "No, not yet, but I should meet with the XO now." "Ah, Winters... In there," I say, pointing to a barracks. "Could be you're taking over Lt. Nixon's platoon. He's been promoted to intelligence officer." "We'll see about that, kid," Harry says, then walks away before waving at me again.

I turn to the guys, who all look at me questioningly. "What?" Don raises his eyebrows. "I told you guys about the soldier who was always nice to me, right?" I ask, and the three nod. "Well, that was Harry. He and I were in the same company in the 82nd until they transferred me and sent him to OCS." "Well then. A friend of yours is a friend of ours," Skip grins.

A little later, we get ready to board the train. They are moving us to Camp Mackall. I'm just throwing my bag on the wagon and heading back to Don and the others when Joe Toye waves me over. "Hey Liv... Do you know where we're going yet?" he asks, shaking my head in amusement. "You know full well that even if I did, which is highly unlikely, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you, right?" I kneel down with him, Shifty, Cobb, and Popeye. "Spoilsport," Joe grins, and I smile at him. "I don't think even the officers know where we're going. Except maybe Nixon, but that's his job."

"I hear you know our new guy. Welsh?" asks Cobb then, and I nod. "What's he like?" "As far as I know, he's got what it takes. Better than you know who." "That's not hard, is it, Blondie?" asks Cobb, and I look at him with raised eyebrows. The relationship between him and me is strained. Very different from Liebgott because I have no positive feelings left for Roy Cobb. He's just a dick. "Shut up, Cobb," Joe now interjects. "Ah, you gotta admit, he's got no chance. Either the Krauts will get him or one of us," Cobb says as Liebgott joins us. "Who, Sobel?" I nod.

"He screwed up one maneuver," Shifty says, and I look at him gently. Good-natured, naive Shifty. "Oh, Shifty... You always want to see the good in everyone, don't you?" I ask, and he looks at me. "Ah, you know, I'm always fumbling with grenades. It would be easy if one went off by accident, you know," Liebgott says, and I look at him briefly.

"Well, now, they must have put him in charge for a reason." "Yeah, cos the Army wouldn't make a mistake, right, Shift?" We're all silent for a moment, and I spot Lipton next to us, who must have heard everything. "Very well," I say and stand up. "I'll see you guys later."

June 23, 1943 - Camp Mackall, North Carolina We have been at Camp Mackall for several months now. Here we have been doing more field exercises, and it is becoming increasingly clear that Sobel is incompetent and will probably get us all killed. At this moment, I'm lying next to Don in a ditch. "Petty. Map. Come on," Sobel calls to Petty. The latter gives me and Don a brief annoyed look. "Oh, Christ." "What is that idiot doing?" I hiss to Don, who shrugs. "2nd platoon, move out," Winters informs us, and I look up in shock. "What?" Muck also asks, confused. "Tactical column," Winters says, and we do as he says. We have to. "Fuck," I grumble and follow the others out of the ditch.

It doesn't take long, and the enemy team in front of us emerges from the bushes. "Dammit," Don grumbles next to me. "Captain, you've just been killed, along with 95% of your company. Your outfit?" asks one of the observing officers. "Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th," Sobel says, and you can tell he's not too happy either. "Leave three wounded men on the ground and report back to the assembly area." "Goddamn it. You, you, you," Sobel says, pointing to three soldiers.

Together, we make our way back. "Jesus, it would be so easy," I whisper to Don, raising my gun ever so slightly. Of course, I know it's not loaded, but it's all about the gesture. Don begins to chuckle beside me. "This man will be the death of us; I'll tell you that," Skip then interjects. "Well, a little birdie told me he probably won't last long if we really jump into action then," I say, and they both look at me. "Better him than us," Don says, and we nod.

September 6, 1943 - Brooklyn Naval Shipyard, NY "Okay 2nd Platoon, listen up," Roush calls to us, and we line up in formation. "We still need certain inoculations for embarkation and seasickness pills. Sergeant Stark, make sure your people have all reported in and everything is orderly," he demands, and I nod. "Yes, sir." He presses a handful of identification cards into my hand. "The medical IDs. They'll have to be carried on one after this. See that the men fill out their medical information, Sergeant." I nod, and he steps down.

"Okay, listen up, guys. Squad leaders on me and get the IDs for your men. You're responsible for ensuring your men are vaccinated when we board this ship, understand?" They nod, and then Lip, Bill, and Chuck come to me. I hand them the identification cards. "Have the men wear these on them. I assume this is a security precaution." The three nod and go to their squads. "Private Bain, Corporal Roe, you're with me." The medic and radioman approach me. "Here." I hand them their IDs. "You'll need to turn these in when you're vaccinated and then wear them on you, okay?" They both nod, and I look briefly at Bill, who nods to me, signaling that we are ready.

Together, we walk toward the rooms where they are administering the vaccinations. Slightly nervous, I sit in the chair and knead my hands. "Are you okay, Olivia?" Gene asks me, and I look at him. "Yeah, why? What should be?" "You seem nervous." "Well... I wouldn't say I like shots, to be honest. Never have." Gene smirks. "Didn't think so now." I shrug my head, then smile at him. "Don't worry; it's just Typhoid, Smallpox, and Tetanus. It's not that bad." "Oh yeah, my last tetanus shot made my arm hurt like ass for a week," I laugh, and Gene shakes his head.

When I'm called on, I look to Gene again. "Wish me luck," I grin at him, and he shakes his head again. I am led into another room where several curtains are hung to shield the soldiers. I continue to knead my hands and then take a deep breath. You can do this, Liv; you're going to war; a little needle isn't going to be a problem.

"Is someone afraid of needles?" I hear a voice and turn around. Liebgott looks at me mockingly. He is also waiting for his injection. I squeeze my eyes shut but say nothing. "What, lost your tongue, Stark?" I turn back to him. "Can't you just let it go for once, Liebgott?" I ask, and he shrugs. "Sergeant Stark?" I am then called. I walk up to the nurse, who eyes me curiously. "Watch out, Stark, if she misses, your arm will fall off," Liebgott calls after me. "Shut up, Liebgott!"

September 10, 1943 - The Samaria - Somewhere on the Atlantic We have been on the stinking ship for four days now—about 5000 soldiers. We are crammed together, and it is just hot. There are not many places of space for yourself other than your own assigned bunk or, if you are lucky, on deck. Most nights, there aren't a lot of soldiers upstairs, so I often get up there and spend a few quiet minutes. Otherwise, if you want to stretch your legs, you have to fight through the men's scramble, which I try to avoid as much as possible. The constant shouts and catcalls are getting on my nerves.

This evening I lie comfortably in my bunk and smoke a cigarette. In the other hand, I have a book that Web has lent me. Finally, Don and Muck return and lie down in their bunks, where Don immediately opens a magazine. "Where have you been?" I ask, and he looks at me for a moment. "Oh, on deck. I needed some fresh air." "Understandable." Discussions keep coming up among the men that we're being shipped to Europe, not the Pacific, as we are now. "Hey, guys, I'm glad I'm going to Europe. Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe; Roosevelt changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and pays me ten grand a year for the rest of my fucking life," Toye says, holding up a knife. Above us, Smokey speaks up. "What if we don't get to Europe? What if they send us to North Africa?" "My brother's in North Africa; he says it's hot," Bill now says, lying in the bunk in front of me. "Really? It's hot in Africa?" asks Don sarcastically, and I nudge him.

"Shut up. Point is, it don't matter where we go. Once we get into combat, the only person you can trust is yourself and the fella next to you," Bill continues. "Hey, long as he's a paratrooper," Toye says. "Oh, yeah? What if that paratrooper turns out to be Sobel?" now George, who is climbing into his bunk, interjects. "If I'm next to Sobel in combat, I'm moving on down the line. Hook up with some other officer, like Heyliger or Winters," Pat, who is lying above me, now joins in. I smile at their discussions. In the end, everything will probably be different than we imagine anyway. "I like Winters, he's a good man, but when the bullets start flying, I don't know if I want a Quaker doing my fighting for me," Bill says again, and I sit up. "How do you know he's a Quaker?" I ask. "He ain't Catholic." "So what?" "Neither's Sobel," Don now says, and I look at him angrily because he just contradicted my statement.

"That prick's a son of Abraham," Bill continues, and I sit up. "Are you serious?" "He's what?" now Liebgott, sitting across from us in an upper bunk, interjects. "He's a Jew." Great, now it's over. I rub my hand over my face. Liebgott's gaze briefly meets mine before he tosses his smoke to the floor and jumps off his bunk. "Oh, fuck. I'm a Jew." "Congratulations. Get your nose outta my face," Bill says, pushing Liebgott away from him, which he doesn't put up with, and lunges. Some men are quickly on the spot and try to separate the two. Of course, I can't help trying to push myself between them. "Are you fucking serious?! You're fighting over Sobel?! Fuck! How stupid can you be?" I shout and push Bill in one direction and Liebgott in another, but they ignore me.

Suddenly I feel a sharp pain on my nose. I stagger backward and immediately grab it. Blood streams down my fingers, and tears shoot into my eyes. "Fuck, Liv!", I hear someone shout, and then I feel Don next to me. "See! That's what you get! Fucking idiots!", Don shouts angrily, and I can only see Bill and Liebgott looking at me in shock. "Shit, sorry Liv!" I hear Bill say. One of them must have caught me.

"Hey Liv, let me see," I hear Gene's voice. He and Don lead me to an empty bunk where I sit down, and Gene examines my nose. "It's not broken, so that's something," he says as he gently puts his fingers to my nose. Then he takes a handkerchief and holds it out to me. "Idiots," Don mutters next to me. "There's probably going to be a bruise, Liv. He got you real good. And you're going to have to change your OD's. They're pretty fucked up," Gene then says, pointing down. I also look down for a moment; all my OD's are full of blood stains. "Great," I grumble. Next to us I can hear the others discussing. "Come on; I'll take you; I have to go that way anyway," Gene says, and I give Don's arm a quick squeeze.

Gene and I make our way upstairs when suddenly Winters and Harry are standing in front of us. "Jesus Christ, Liv, what happened to you?" asks Harry immediately. "Just a little accident, Harry. It's all right," I say, smiling at him. "Doc?" now Winters asks, addressing Gene. "Two of the men got into an altercation and Liv got in the middle of it. An elbow hit her nose, sir, but it's not broken." "I just need new OD's, sir," I now say and Winters nods. "Okay, I'll let Sergeant Roberts know. Wait here a minute," Winters says and disappears. "Who was involved?" asks Harry then. "Guarnere and Liebgott," Roe says, and Harry gives me a knowing look. "Figures... Are you okay, Liv?" I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just waiting for it to stop bleeding." Then Winters comes back with Supply Sergeant Roberts and presses a new top into my hand. "Clean yourself up and any further incidents will be reported to me immediately," says Winters. "Yes, sir," I say nodding to Gene and Harry.

In the restrooms, I change briefly. My nose is still bleeding slightly, but it's not that bad anymore, but there is already a nasty bruise forming beside my nose. Then I go up on the deck and sit against the railing on the floor. It's already fresh, but I don't care right now. I can't go back below just yet.

When my nose finally stopped bleeding, I put the rag next to me, cross my arms, and stretch out my legs. I close my eyes and lean my head against the railing. Suddenly, I notice someone standing next to me. When I look up, I am surprised that it is Liebgott. "How's your nose?" he asks. "It's been better if I'm honest," I return. He takes a deep breath. "May I?" he asks, and I nod as he sits down next to me. "I'm sorry." "What?" "I'm sorry I hit you. That... I didn't mean to." Now I realize that, in that case, it was Liebgott who did it. "You were standing there and my elbow... Well, as I said, I'm sorry."

He lights a smoke and holds it out to me before lighting one for himself. "It's all right. It was an accident." Liebgott bites his lips and looks down at his legs. "It's just... Guarnere's comment was totally out of line." I nod. "I know. I agree with you." "Really?" "Yeah. I mean, why does it matter where someone is from or what their religion is? At the end of the day, we're all here for the same reason, right?" Liebgott says nothing, and we sit there smoking our cigarettes for a moment. Then Liebgott rummages in his pocket and holds out a bottle to me. "Here, as an apology." I take it. "Okay, wow. Where did you get that?" "That's my secret," he says, taking out another beer bottle. We open it and cheer the bottles together.

Silently, we drink our bottles. The stars shine above us, and you can hear the water lapping beside us. I don't think the two of us have been together so long without arguing. I keep catching myself giving Liebgott little glances, but always careful that he doesn't see me.

"Ah, there you are!" Don comes up to us, grinning. "I was beginning to think you'd jumped ship." "Sorry to disappoint you, Malarkey. You're still stuck with me for a bit." As he comes closer and spots our beers, he falters. "Are you fucking serious? You have beers, and you don't say anything!" "Sorry, but this is my apology gift," I say, taking another sip. "Cut the crap and hand over the bottle, Stark," Don laughs and sits in front of us. I hand it to him, and he takes a sip. "Oh, this is just great." He hands the bottle back to me. "Your nose looks like shit, by the way." "Thanks for the flowers, Don. I know... Liebgott did a great job." "Hey, I said I was sorry, okay?!" "Don't get your panties in a bunch Liebgott; it was just a joke. Even though the bruises on my face would deny that."

#Band of Brothers #I'm still going strong #Joe Liebgott x OC #Joe Liebgott #Ross McCall #bob #bobedit #hbowar #hbo series #Fanfiction #Part 6 #love the gif #he's just too hot

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next-autopsy · 5 months

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A/N: Well, hi there! Bernadette is getting a bit home sick. And the women are getting some extra combat training. Read and enjoy x

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: I don't think there is any....

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter seventeen: Another Promotion

North Carolina was intense.

After completing five jumps and becoming qualified Paratroopers in Fort Benning, the whole 506th battalion moved to Camp Mackall. There they focused on practicing defensive maneuvers with some physical combat and lectures peppered in.

The mood had dropped significantly as Easy company experienced their commanding officer; Sobel, in action. His inability to lead them to safety became the talking point of the century, everyday Birdie heard whispered worries and doubts from her comrades.

Bernadette’s birthday was coming up, this would be the first she had spent away from her family, her hometown. She hadn’t told anyone the exact date and she wasn’t sure if she was going to, maybe she should let this one slip passed, unnoticed, uncelebrated.

The young southern girl focused her energy on other things, hand to hand and close quarter combat being the main target. Fighting against the men had been frustrating for her, as they did the chivalrous thing and let her win, they didn’t put their whole weight into punches aimed at her and would miss or hesitate purposefully.

She had found it sweet the first few weeks but as time went on, Birdie realized this wasn’t helping her. Her enemy would smack her in the face, no questions and she wouldn’t know how to block or counter properly. So the Easy company men babying her was doing more harm than good.

Bernadette had gone to her fellow women to complain and most of them had experienced the same treatment. All apart from Rossi. She had a ‘take no shit’ attitude with the men of George company and they respected her for it. She would call them out if they pulled their punches with her and then hit them twice as hard to teach them a lesson.

Francesca fundamentally disagreed with the porcelain doll treatment the rest of the ladies received, she of course spoke up about it to her CO, not willing to stand back and allow the girls to scrap by without actually learning how to protect themselves. Her CO had brought her concern to HQ and the women were given an extra self defense class to balm to mishap.

Each woman would have to bring a man from their company to spar with while being overseen by a small handful of instructors.

At first, Birdie didn’t know who she should take with her. Whoever she brought would have to fight her without the princess handling, that ruled out Toye, Guarnere, Luz, Malarkey, Muck and Penkala. She knew for a fact that Bull would rather die than hit her, he had refused to partner up with her before so how could she expect him to agree to fight her now.

Winters and Nixon were ruled out when the no officers rule came into play. Plus Nixon had just been promoted to OSS, and his replacement; Harry Welsh was also a no go. Carwood was far too polite and she felt like she would be taking aim at her mother.

The only real option was Johnny Martin. Or someone she wasn't as close with but still on good terms like; Talbert, More, Christenson, Grant. Maybe she should switch between the guys, take turns beating them up. Either way, Bernadette would have to convince them to say yes, she couldn't drag them by their ears to the sparring lesson, they had to be a willing volunteer.

Birdie brought it up at dinner that night. She was seated at a table with Toye on one side and Guarnere on the other, like usual. Bill almost spat out his food when she spoke up, granted she’d abruptly announced she wanted to fight someone while there was a break of chatter and it took most of the men off guard.

“You want to… fight someone?” Toye clarified, raising his eyebrow at the small woman. She nodded, amused by the reactions of her friends. Bill was still coughing up the food that had gone down the wrong way, he smacked at his chest to ease it down.

“Who?” Johnny narrowed his eyes, he was ready to pull out a knife and threaten anyone who’d upset the girl.

“Probably Lieb.” George smirked, from down the table. That actually wasn’t a bad idea, they could hash out whatever the heck was going on between them, air out the awkwardness.

“Why? What’d he do?” Martin growled, “Birdie, what did he do?” His jaw clench and Birdie knew if she didn’t explain he would be having words with (and most likely throwing hands at) the Californian man.

“Jesus. I don't wanna fight Liebgott….well….. No." She tilted her head and pretended to consider it, making George chuckle. Johnny still sent a glare to Lieb across the room, who had no idea what was going on and was beginning to worry for his life.

“I have a class and I need a sparring partner.” She felt like she was a schoolgirl again, asking her parents permission. Birdie looked at Johnny, his arms were crossed over his chest as he contemplated what she was telling him. He shot Liebgott another glare just in case.

“You got an extra class?” Toye questioned, he thought Birdie told him everything so why was he finding this out amongst a group? Joe was starting to get bitter, she should have come to him first and asked him to be her partner.

“Yeah, all the girls do.” Her voice was nonchalant and she shrugged off Toye’s attitude.

“Why?” Bill added, finally recovered and ready to take part in the conversation.

“Cause y’all baby us ladies. How are we gonna learn how to fight if y’all keep pulling your punches?” The men around her 'um'ed and 'ahh'ed, it was a fair point. Toye was still butt hurt, but he supposed he understood, after all, he just wanted Birdie safe. That didn’t mean he liked this.

“What, so we're supposed to actually try and hit you?” Toye narrowed his eyes, no fucking way would he let someone else be Bernadette’s partner, not if the guy was trying to hurt her.

“Yes!” He was exasperating her, Birdie rolled her eyes at her best friend. His protectiveness was normally welcome and even adored but now it was more of a hindrance and the woman just wanted him to shut his mouth.

“Fine. When’s our first class?” Toye had gone back to casually scooping up his food, acting as if this was just like any other normal discussion. He completely disregarded Bernadette as she dropped her jaw and uttered an irritated, “Our?”

“You think I'm gonna let anyone else fight you, Little Bird?” He smirked at her, ruffling her hair and laughing when she huffed and smacked his hand away.

“Uh, no.” She declared, narrowing her eyes at him, “Not you.”

“I don’t see anyone else volunteering to kick your ass.” Toye joked though he secretly hoped no one chimed in at that moment.

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” She made an ‘I told you so’ face and stuck her tongue out at Toye, who just rolled his eyes in return.

“Tomorrow at 1000. The girls will be so excited to finally meet one of my Easy men.” The southerner got up from the table having finished her meal. She looked around and locked eyes with Carwood, he noted her readiness to leave and also got up, making his way toward her.

“Wait, the other girls will be there? I’ll go! Please pick me Birdie!” Guarnere seemed to put two and two together, the realization dawned on him and suddenly he was very eager to join the extra sparring class.

“Ew no. Don't be gross.” Birdie scrunched her face up at Bill, “Besides, I already told them you have Herpes.” She tossed a chuckle over her shoulder at the sputtering Italian man and left the dining hall with Lipton.

Carwood walked her to her barracks and wished her a goodnight before leaving.

Bernadette could hear the ladies' commotion from outside, it sounded like a squabble or some fresh, hot gossip had just been spilled. Birdie shook her head, mentally taking a bet with herself before she stepped inside.

Lucy was jumping on top of the corner most cot and held a book high above her head, while Blythe attempted to retrieve what Birdie assumed was her book. A diary maybe?

Bernadette took note of Charlotte and Francesca watching and smoking from the adjacent corner, next to the butts bin and the door, and Betty sitting the furthest away from the loud women fighting over a book. Connie, who was curled up on her bed, burst into giggles watching the two best friends playfully pushing each other off the bed and wrestling for the journal.

“Give it back!” Blythe squealed at her friend, who laughed and took post on yet another bed.

Frankie waved Birdie over and she happily joined the two smokers, sitting away from the racket. Rossi held out her smoke which was snatched up instantly by the Mississippian.

“You wanna fill me in?” Bernadette prompted, grinning as Blythe had now pinned Lucy to the floor.

“Not really.” Frankie deadpanned, making Charlotte roll her eyes and begin explaining how Lucy had found out about a crush Blythe was harboring and begged her to tell who had caught her eye, but the redhead refused so Lucy had stolen her diary in hopes she written down a name or description of some kind. And apparently she had.

Birdie let out a chuckle and returned Frankie’s cigarette to her before heading over to Constance. The youngest woman had come out of her shell quite a bit since Birdie had first met her in Toccoa, they got on like a house on fire.

“You know who she’s sweet on?”

“No clue.” Connie grinned, happy to be entertained by the ruckus.

By now, Blythe had gotten her precious diary back and the first thing she did was smack Lucy over the head with it.

“Just tell meeeeee!” Lucy stuck her bottom lip out, hands together with interlocked fingers like she was begging her closest friend.

“No, it's a secret.” Blythe answered, tucking the book under her mattress. Lucy seemed to leave it at that and the pair were back to their usual shenanigans, chatting about the day's events and laughing about various inside jokes. Lucy settled on her bed with a comic and Blythe lay her head over the brunette's lap and read the personal letters she had received that morning.

Connie and Birdie shared their daily chit-chat on the blondes bed, the room had quietened down a fair amount, just the typical conversation and smoking.

So when Betty spoke up, announcing her promotion to Corporal, the room hushed. None of the girls really knew what to say, Betty wasn’t exactly a conversationalist.

“Oh, Uh… What for?” Lucy was the one to break the quiet, attempting to be polite. When Betty gaped and couldn’t form an answer, a knowing look was passed around the room. Her father had put in a word and gotten her promoted. Typical. Birdie could see the animosity forming between the women in the room and decided to try defuse it.

“Congratulations, Betty. That's great.” She smiled at the new Corporal who was quite obviously, just trying to fit in. Out of the corner of her vision she saw Lucy rolling her eyes and mouth something unkind to Blythe, who giggled.

Bernadette cleared her throat and threw them a pointed look, both Lucy and Blythe turned their attention to Betty and gave their congratulations. Followed by Connie and Charlotte who praised the woman. Betty let a small smile creep onto her face as the others began another discussion about their COs.

“What about you, Betty?”

Bernadette watched her facial expression change to one of shock, her eyebrows raised; she was being included. The room waited for her answer and when she gave it, they laughed with her instead of at her and Betty felt warm in her chest.

Elizabeth turned to Bernadette and mouthed a silent ‘Thank you.’ She knew the girls were only talking to her so kindly because of the Easy company lady and she was beginning to appreciate the unacknowledged endeavor.

A/N: Kinda a filler chapter, more exciting things to come!

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter eighteen

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #george luz #joe toye #bill guarnere #johnny martin

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casbooks · 10 months

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Books of 2023

Book 36 of 2023

Title: Alone in the Valley: A Soldier's Journey in the Vietnam War Authors: George R. Lanigan ISBN: 9781518825378 Tags: AUS ADF AA Australian Army, AUS ADF AA SAS Special Air Service (ASAS), AUS ADF Australian Defence Force, AUS Australia, B-52 Stratofortress, Bolivia, Buddhism (Religion), C-119 Flying Box Car, C-123 Provider, Catholic, Che Guevara, Cold War (1946-1991), HUN Hungarian Revolution of 1956, HUN Hungary, KHM Cambodia, KHM Cambodian Army (Vietnam War), KHM Cambodian Civil War (1967-1975), KHM Dr Son Ngoc Thanh, KHM FANK Khmer Army / Forces Armees Nationals Khmeres (1970-1975) (Cambodian Civil War), KHM General Lon Nol, KHM Khmer Rouge, KHM Khmer Serei (Cambodia Civil War), KHM Prince Norodom Sihanouk, M-113 APC, Medevac helicopter, Nungs, OV-10 Bronco, PAN Chagres River, PAN Colon, PAN Panama, PAN USA Fort Sherman, PAN USA Fort Sherman - Jungle Operations Training Center, PAN USAF Howard Air Force Base, POW, Rangers, SpecOps, Tamara Bunker Bider (East German Guerilla/KGB), U-10 Helio Courier, US AK Alaska, US AK ALCAN highway, US AK Delta Junction, US AK Gulkana Glacier, US CIA Central Intelligence Agency, US George Peppard (Actor), US Lodge Act, US Martha Raye (Actress), US Medal Of Honor, US OH Kent State University, US OH Kent State University Shootings (1970) (Vietnam War), US OH Ohio, US President Richard M. Nixon, US Raymond Burr (Actor), US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, US USA 117th Assault Helicopter Company, US USA 117th Assault Helicopter Company - 2 Plt - Pink Panthers, US USA 75th Rangers, US USA 75th Rangers - P Co, US USA 75th Rangers - P Co - RT 1-6, US USA ANG Army National Guard, US USA Camp Mackall NC, US USA Col Lamar Welch, US USA Fort Benning GA, US USA Fort Bragg NC, US USA Fort Bragg NC - JFK Special Warfare Center / School, US USA Fort Bragg NC - Smoke Bomb Hill, US USA Fort Gordon GA, US USA Fort Gordon GA - Camp Crocket, US USA Fort Gordon GA - Range Road, US USA Fort Greely AK, US USA Fort Jackson SC, US USA Fort Lewis WA, US USA Fort Mitchell AL, US USA Fort Mitchell AL - Fryar Drop Zone, US USA Fort Wainwright AK, US USA Francis Marion (Swamp Fox), US USA General John L Throckmorton, US USA Major James N. Rowe, US USA NWTC Northern Warfare Training Center AK, US USA Sgt David Dolby (MOH), US USA SP4 Roy Burke (Ranger), US USA United States Army, US USA USSF 5th SFG, US USA USSF 6th SFG, US USA USSF 6th SFG - A Co, US USA USSF 7th SFG, US USA USSF Green Berets, US USA USSF Special Forces, US USA USSF Team ODA-442, US USA USSF Team ODB-36, US USA USSF Team ODB-43, US USAF Pope Air Force Base - NC, US USAF United States Air Force, US USN ASPB Assault Support Patrol Boat, US USN United States Navy, US USO United Service Organizations, VNM ADF AA 1st Australian Field Hospital - Vung Tau (Vietnam War), VNM ADF AA 1st Australian Task Force (1 ATF) (Vietnam War), VNM ADF AA AATF Australian Army Training Team (Vietnam War), VNM Assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem (1963) (Vietnam War), VNM Ba Ria, VNM Bien Hoa, VNM Buddhist Crisis (1963) (Vietnam War), VNM Cam Ranh Bay, VNM Chi Lang, VNM CIA Air America (1950-1976) (Vietnam War), VNM DRV NVA North Vietnamese Army, VNM DRV VC Viet Cong, VNM Hill 282, VNM Hmong Meo Tribesmen, VNM Ho Chi Minh Trail (Vietnam War), VNM I Corps (Vietnam War), VNM III Corps (Vietnam War), VNM IV Corps (Vietnam War), VNM Long Hai, VNM Long Hai Special Forces Camp (Vietnam War), VNM Minh Dam Secret Zone, VNM My Lai Massacre (1968), VNM Nha Trang Air Base, VNM Nui Dat, VNM Operation Arc Light (1965-1973) (Vietnam War), VNM Operation Ivory Coast - Son Tay Raid (1970) (Vietnam War), VNM Operation Ranch Hand (1962-1971) (Vietnam War), VNM Parrots Beak, VNM Phuoc Hai, VNM Phuoc Tuy Province, VNM Quang Tri Province, VNM RVN ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam, VNM RVN ARVN CIDG Civilian Irregular Defense Group, VNM RVN ARVN LLDB Luc Luong Dac Biet Special Forces, VNM RVN ARVN RF/PF Regional Forces/Popular Forces (Vietnam War), VNM RVN ARVN Vietnamese Rangers - Biet Dong Quan, VNM RVN Ngo Dinh Diem, VNM RVN RVNP Can Sat National Police, VNM Tan Son Nhut Air Base, VNM Tay Ninh Province, VNM Tay Ninh West Air Base, VNM UITG Chi Lang Training Center (Vietnam War), VNM UITG Long Hai Training Center (Vietnam War), VNM US Agent Orange (Vietnam War), VNM US MACV Advisory Teams (Vietnam War), VNM US MACV IV Corps Advisory Team (Vietnam War), VNM US MACV Military Assistance Command Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM US USA USSF 3rd Mobile Strike Force (Vietnam War), VNM US USSF Mobile Strike Force (MIKE) (Vietnam War), VNM USA USARV UITG Individual Training Group (Vietnam War), VNM USA USARV United States Army Vietnam (Vietnam War), VNM USN MRF Mobile Riverine Force (Vietnam War), VNM USN NATSB Ben Keo, VNM USN NATSB Go Dau Hau, VNM USN NATSB Naval Advanced Support Base, VNM USN TF 117 MRF Mobile Riverine Force (Vietnam War), VNM Vam Co Dong River, VNM Vietnam, VNM Vietnam War (1955-1975), VNM Vung Tau, VNM Xuyen Moc Rating: ★★★★ (4 Stars) Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.ARVN, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Australia, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Cambodian Civil War, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.Specops.Green Berets, Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.US Army.Advisor

Description: In 1968, George Lanigan leaves the University of Maryland and sets off on the journey of his life. He volunteers to serve his country in the Vietnam War and enlists in the army where he becomes an elite Special Forces advisor in a top-secret program. The United States is clandestinely training the Cambodian Army, Forces Armees Nationales Khmeres, and Lanigan is at the heart of the mission. In this personal memoir, LTC George R. Lanigan, USA (Retired), adapts his forty-year-old letters and correspondence to his parents into an emotionally compelling and suspenseful narrative that relates his daily life of survival and political tension. It's an inside, firsthand look at a rare, and previously classified, Vietnam War experience. But its scope reaches beyond the war itself and illuminates the realities soldiers face returning home, building a life, and even visiting war zones four decades later. Its openness and honesty will resonate with war veterans, their friends and family members, those suffering post-traumatic stress disorder, and people of all ages who are interested in American history. Readers will learn about war life, a volatile political environment, and how personal experiences weave together to create the person one eventually becomes.

#Books #Ebooks #Booklr #Bookblr #non-fiction #history #military history #cambodia #vietnam war #cambodian civil war #us army #special forces #green berets

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sergeant-spoons · 2 years

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15. And Yet, I Can’t Imagine

Bernadette Noel

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long weekend of heavy rain, Tare Squadron wasn't sure when they'd next get a chance to fly. Tuesday dawned with hardly a cloud in the sky, and soon it proved to be the clearest day at Camp MacKall by far. As such, the pilots of Tare spent the majority of the day high in the skies. Berni took Hennessy up for a flight that involved just as much education as it did banter. Earl strengthened her navigational skills with Polly, flying in loops far over the base and surrounding woods, and Rosie and Venus took the opportunity of their early ascent to fly several miles north and witness the first green sprouts upon the orchards in the country. While the Osbourne sisters bickered over their choice of co-pilots (they ended up flying with each other, in the end), Addie and Thelma got a head start and were aloft a full two hours longer than any other pilots, even Berni. Délia and Fiona took the good fortune of clear skies to show off a few of their tricks once Berni radioed up the go-ahead. She would be the one in hot water if something were to happen to an off-duty Airborne plane in American airspace, but she trusted their training as former stunt pilots and knew they would not damage the planes.

By afternoon, hands were starting to ache and itch, and the flying jackets that once kept them warm were starting to feel too warm for this particularly sunny day. A Carolina March was much warmer than an English one, that was for certain. The women took a hiatus for lunch, and by the time they regathered in the hangar around 02:00 hours, the headcount of those present had unexpectedly grown. Though most of the pilots did not join the enlisted men for meals, Earl, Fiona, and Venus had passed a few friends on their way to the mess hall and joined them for a midday meal. Once they'd mooched lunch from their friends in the kitchen, the trio 'borrowed' (in Earl's words) a cadre of Easy Company soldiers from Captain Sobel, citing a bogus intent to further familiarize the men with the interior of their jump planes. Berni only learned of this once the troopers had strolled into the hangar, sunglasses perched atop their sun-reddened faces and jackets tied around their waists, white shirts gritty from the morning's exercise. With a half-teasing sigh, she told Earl she'd claim responsibility if Sobel filed a petty complaint.

"I was hoping you would say that," Earl replied, pretending to wipe the sweat of anxiety from her brow, and scampered off at the summons of Rosie to check a dented rudder balance on her aircraft.

"This place is fucking huge."

"Hello, McClung."

Ellis' boyfriend startled, jumping aside just in time to avoid backing up into Berni. He quickly saluted her, but she waved him down. The rag in her hand flapped along with the motion, new oil spots noticeable on its grey cloth.

"Ellis is over there."

McClung almost smirked, then thought better of it and gave a polite nod instead. "Thank you, Captain."

Three more men in turn came up to Berni once she let McClung go, keeping hope that he and Ellis would have the sense to leave any tryst-like activities for a location outside of the hangar.

"Afternoon, cap'n."

The tallest of the men came forth with a salute, then readily shook her hand when she put him at ease. He was a sergeant, judging by the patch on his shoulder, and he seemed an agreeable sort. As he slowly gazed about the hangar, taking his time to admire each and every plane, Berni decided she liked him.

"You've got one helluva 'n office here, Captain."

Berni laughed softly as Frank Perconte, the next to approach, gave a low whistle.

"We've known each other for how long, Frank?"

"Say, uh, five months, isn't it? Shit, that's a while."

"Call me Berni."

Frank grinned, happy to shake her hand. "Oh, just wait 'til I do that in front of Sobel."

He went off with Fiona, who was keen to give him a tour, unaware that he seemed far more interested in her than the planes. Joe Liebgott was the last to saunter up to Berni, smirking as if he expected to usurp her attention once he'd caught it. Just for that, Berni grabbed his hand, wished him a pleasant afternoon, and promptly passed him along to Délia, who'd come searching for a fourth pair of hands to help Earl with her repairs on Rosie's plane. He shot Berni an almost contemptuous look as he let himself be led away, and she, stifling a grin, pouted in false sympathy. He squinted at her, she winked, and he turned away, smirking again. It was the game they played, this back and forth. No harm done. No poor examples set. It was fun, it was safe.

"Pardon me, Cap'n-" The tall sergeant politely waved for Berni's attention. "-but is there s'posed to be a light on in there?"

Berni turned to see where he was pointing and saw the beam of a flashlight dancing across the windows inside one of the Airborne's many Douglas C-47 Skytrains. That was Erma's plane, which she usually flew with Beatrice, but the one they affectionately called 'Wifey' was down for the count with a case of the flu. Erma must be working on something inside. Berni supposed it wouldn't hurt to introduce her to the sergeant, especially if she was sitting all by her lonesome up there. She told her companion as much as she hopped up the ladder to the door of the Skytrain and bade him follow. He had to duck to get through the doorway, amusing Erma, who was just wrapping up the last of her lunch. Her gentle laughter seemed to endear the sergeant, and they hit it off right away. Hennessy, who'd appeared in search of Berni, shared an amused sort of look with her friend as they witnessed smooth introductions become tentative flirting.

"Berni, I got somethin' for ya..."

"Coming." Berni nodded at her pilot and the sergeant. "Behave yourselves."

Erma laughed, and again, the sergeant's smile grew to hear it.

"We will," Erma promised and waved cheerfully to Berni as the captain returned to the ground by use of the ladder.

"What is it?"

"Coffey wanted me to tell ya she and Duran were goin' into town," Hennessy explained. "Said they both need some new grippy gloves for the stick-y things on them planes."

"Ah." Berni smiled knowingly. "Understood."

"Really? 'Cause I ain't sure what the hell that means."

"It means," Berni explained, dropping her voice, "that they're going to get flying gloves, but the errand might take a while longer than it should."

"Ahhh." Hennessy bobbed her chin up and down. "Gotcha."

"Fixed it!" came a call from the other end of the hangar half a second before Joe Liebgott materialized, wiping his hands off on his pants, his shirt stained in several places from engine oil. He looked disgruntled at his appearance but pleased to have helped, and the latter of the two emotions became the stronger when he met Berni's eye.

"Give me a tour, Flygirl?"

"Alright."

Berni scribbled a few things down for Hennessy on her clipboard, then started off with Joe at her side. They did not touch, not even by a falsely innocent brush of the hands, a separation which she both appreciated and disdained. When she detailed a few of the planes for him, not expecting him to be much interested, she was pleasantly surprised to find he had half a dozen earnest questions about each craft. He listened well to each answer she gave and was clever with his jokes when he made them. Berni had known she liked him for some time, but walking through the hangar, she couldn't deny she enjoyed his company far more than she should. When he got her to laugh at a story about Frank using David Webster as a standing body pillow yesterday, she thought she might kiss him just to get him to shut up and stop making her like him more with every joke, smirk, and wink.

"So I know you, Frank, and McClung," she mused instead, "but who's the fellow built like a tank?"

"Bull Randleman," Joe answered. "You like him?"

Berni shrugged, drawing a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. "He seems friendly. Polite."

"And?"

"And," she continued, comprehending the game he was trying to play, "he appears to be quite taken with Erma."

"No shit?"

Berni chuckled. "As of about twenty minutes ago, yes."

Joe grinned. "Good for him."

"Yes, and for her, too."

Joe rocked back and forth on his heels, thumbing at his belt loops. He looked like he wanted to say something, and when Berni shot him a look, he was all too happy to express the thought on the tip of his tongue.

"So, tell me if I got this right: ya like the skinny, tough guys better than the gentle giants."

She glanced him up and down, and he preened until she swatted his shoulder, stifling a smile.

"I suppose I do."

"Fuck yeah."

"The only thing is, Joe..."

He looked almost too excited to hear what she had to say, and in a moment of doubt, she nearly stopped herself from continuing.

"You're not skinny," she decided, playing with her new lighter to distract her gaze from his smile, "you've got what I'd call an athletic build."

"And ya like that."

She raised a brow, drawing the cigarette she was about to offer him beyond his reach. Joe's smirk did not budge; still, he held up his hands in surrender and offered a not-apology.

"Just kidding."

She gave him the cigarette, and he puffed on it, content, as they came back around to the Skytrains. Berni saw Erma standing with Randleman by the water tanks and, judging her plane to be empty, stole up the ladder. Joe followed, and Berni brought him into the cockpit, for she'd promised to show him around the place back before Christmas. As she pointed out several mechanisms and their functions, she noticed how Joe extended his arm back through the doorway so as to not smoke up the cramped space. Appreciative, she took her seat as captain and posed languidly when he asked her to. He grinned, whistled, and pretended to take a photograph of her. As she primped her hair, exaggerating her self-importance, she caught a flicker of warmth in Joe's smile and felt something in her chest melt.

Do not fraternize, Berni, she warned herself, poking haphazardly at the bells and whistles of the controls. Do not fucking fraternize.

Joe didn't want to waste his smoke and so they soon left the cockpit and walked back through the fuselage only to find the ladder had been drawn away by Délia, Frank, and Fiona. Unconcerned, Berni and Joe sat in the doorway, their legs dangling toward the sawdust and cement below. They smoked and did not speak, but Berni decided they were better off that way. How they sat—hip to hip, Joe's arm reaching behind Berni to keep himself steady with his wrist bent and his palm pressed to the floor—was already a temptation. Berni pretended not to mind the embrace, but her back felt warm in every spot his arm touched, and she could not stop herself from noticing even the minutest of his movements. She waved down to Earl and Polly as they passed by, and as the former broke into an impromptu cartwheel, the latter jumped aside to avoid being kicked when Earl came tumbling down. Berni stifled a laugh and waved them along, her legs swinging nonchalantly as she leaned just a little bit into Joe's arm.

"Imagination is funny, it makes a cloudy day sunny..."

Joe, done with his cigarette, started to sing softly to himself. Berni wasn't sure he even knew he was doing it.

"Makes a bee think of honey just as I think of you..."

She turned to him just as the breeze swept through the hangar doors, open to the sunshine. Brushing curls of hair out of her eyes, she tilted her head. Joe didn't notice her for a moment more-

"Imagination is crazy, your whole perspective gets hazy. Starts you asking a daisy what to do, what to... do!"

-but once he did, he turned his singing from absentminded to flirtatious in two seconds flat.

"Have you ever felt a gentle touch, and then a kiss, and then—and then!"

He pretended to swoon against the wall of the plane, pouting. Berni stifled a laugh.

"You find it's only your imagination again... oh, well..."

He sat back up and moved his arm fully around her waist, slipping his hand into her front pocket, his palm resting on her thigh through the corduroy fabric. Berni felt goosebumps rising and looked away, pretending to be coy when in reality, her heart was starting to skip.

"Imagination is silly, you go around willy-nilly."

Joe swayed to the tune, and to keep her balance, Berni had to grab his leg and lean against his shoulder. She laughed, and as he grinned, she sat up straight only to find he'd tucked her neatly against his side.

"For example-"

He studied her face, feigning infatuation. Or, perhaps, he wasn't pretending at all. The thought silenced Berni's laughter.

"-I go around wanting you."

Her smile began to fade.

"And yet, I can't imagine..."

Joe searched her gaze, leaning closer.

"That you want me too?"

Half a second before Berni threw everything and its mother to the wind and kissed Joe, Hennessy popped up from the underside of the plane, shouting something about a date. Berni nearly lost her balance and fell but Joe, fast as lightning, reached out and caught her. Halfway through asking if she was alright, Joe's sentence trailed off as he met Berni's gaze. She could feel his arms around her, his breath on her cheek. She leaned back, muttering that she was fine, and though she wished he didn't have to, he let go. At once, Berni missed his arm around her; she felt a sudden chill. Joe, meanwhile, was too busy inwardly cursing himself for pulling back from her to notice.

"What's this about a date?" Ellis queried, poking her head up from the card game she'd started with McClung and Venus.

Hennessy laughed in mirth. "The good ol' Sarge over there and our darling Erma got a date, a date, a date!"

Ellis, ever the defendant of her sister, leaped up. "Not a chance," she refuted, "Erma knows better than to break the conduct of our service!"

Berni and Joe shifted uncomfortably where they sat.

"Not like you're the poster child for stickin' to the rules 'round here!" Hennessy retorted, and Ellis gasped.

"Well- well- Erma would never!"

"That ain't what I just heard from her own two lips!"

"Then maybe you ought to get your ears checked, Miss Ma'am!"

Hennessy grabbed the oil-stained rag Berni had cleaned her hands with earlier and flicked it at Ellis. She fled, and as a chase ensued and McClung laughed, Berni beckoned to the last of the trio. Venus, uninterested in the dispute, saw, rose, and came over to the plane. As she approached, Joe got up and wandered impassively around the inside of the craft. Berni drew her legs up and crossed them, trying to fill the empty space he'd only just occupied.

"Where's the ladder gone?" Berni asked, and the flicker of a smirk crossed Venus' expression.

"Hennessy took it," she responded. "Said something about you and your soldier there having some time to yourselves."

"Hmm. Very funny."

"Want me to let you down?"

"That would be preferable, yes."

Ellis went flying by again, and McClung caught her against him. He laughed, as did Ellis as she tried to free herself. Hennessy gave a shout, thinking herself triumphant, but as she flicked her weapon of choice, McClung spun himself and his girlfriend around and took the blow to his back. In return, Ellis pressed a strong kiss to his lips. The embrace was broken only by McClung ducking aside again in retribution to Hennessy, circling around and trying again to swat Ellis.

"Leave it, Hen," Berni called, coming down off the last step of the ladder.

Hennessy reluctantly retreated, voicing excuses of fooling around and fronting apologies to Ellis and McClung. As Berni approached and brokered peace between her pilots, Joe came down the ladder, watching her. He stepped aside, tugging at his shirt and mumbling a curse under his breath, only to be met by McClung tossing an arm around his shoulder.

"Thanks, Joe," McClung laughed. "Perconte owes me ten bucks now."

"Oh, yeah? What for?"

"For you not kissin' the captain."

Joe shoved him, but McClung just laughed and patted his pocket.

"You want a couple bucks? Guess it's only fair... Hey, where you goin'? Hey! Joe!"

Berni turned around at the tail end of McClung's admonishments just in time to see Joe marching out the hangar doors into the sunshine. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his gait was quick but stiff. He did not saunter, he stomped. She had the urge to run after him but did not act on it, instead turning back to the girls to find Ellis had hurried after McClung, who was, in turn, following Joe.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hennessy, who'd remained, asked, and though her tone was mostly sympathetic, the question made Berni scowl.

"Oh, shut up."

"Yikes. Disaster in paradise."

"Hen."

"Shutting up now."

Hennessy mimed zipping her lips together. Berni blinked at the gesture, strange to her eyes. Hennessy wavered, and Berni's frown returned.

"Look, can I just say-"

"No!"

"-that he can't keep leavin' you in the lurch like this!"

Berni sighed.

"There's nothing there. We're nothing. He's-"

She couldn't bring herself to say it. Hennessy, smirking, looked ready to preach, and Berni promptly turned on her heel and hastened away.

"Earl?" she called. "Earl, what's the status on that rudder balance?"

"Good as new!" piped up the squadron's resident mechanic, scampering over with toolkit in hand. "You want to come and see?"

Berni thought she heard the residue of a song sweeping in from the great outdoors. She shook her head, aggravated by the way it tugged at her heart, knowing the breeze was just the breeze and any whisper of I can't imagine that you want me too was only a wistful conjuring. Noticing Earl's confused expression, Berni switched to nodding, waving her hand in affirming synchronization with her head.

"Yes," she amended. "Yes, I'll have a look. Anything else?"

"Well, there were a few leaves caught in the access panel, so I plucked them out—oh, and the arrester hook has got a bit of rust, so I told Rosie to keep an eye on it, especially if it rains again..."

As Earl chattered on, Berni glanced back one last time but only saw Hennessy taking a puff from Randleman's cigar, the pair of them silhouetted by the blue sky and grey runway beyond. No sign of Joe.

Berni turned away and reminded herself that hope was more often than not the friend of a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#bernadette noel #bernadette noel ficlet #bernadette noel 15: and yet I can't imagine #tare squadron #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #there goes my flight #joe liebgott #joseph liebgott #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction

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neurodevelopmentalandeducation · 1 year

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Pointers And Measures Company For Healthcare Research And Quality

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