All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

36: Rations

Posey's feet dragged behind her as she made her way into Easy's rendezvous in Sainte Marie du Mont. It must have been the middle of the night by now, the sky a sheet of rich black silk devoid entirely of stars, though there was still activity bustling about the main area. She kept her eyes peeled for a familiar face, wondering whether she was likely to get a reprimand for being so late to the party, when she came upon Lieutenant Nixon. She had never been so happy to see the intelligence officer, for now she knew for sure she was in the right place. Even with the directions she'd been given it hadn't taken her long to worry they'd led her astray.

"Lieutenant Nixon," she said, her voice emerging much quieter than she'd intended. She'd been aiming to call out to him but her voice, throaty and scratching, had emerged weak. It was only then she realised how thirsty she was and immediately set to work unscrewing her canteen to take a sip. Once she had, she noticed Nixon heading towards her - he must have either heard her weak call or noticed her standing there.

"Wells," he greeted with a smile and a nod. "Glad to see you."

"You too, sir," she breathed, beaming. "You have no idea how happy I am to see a familiar face."

Nixon chuckled quietly. "I think I might have a slight idea. You look like you've been through hell." He gave a noncommittal gesture to her appearance and Posey laughed under her breath. Instinctively, she brought a hand up to check on her neck and Nixon tracked the movement. "Looks like you had a pretty close encounter."

Posey nodded, letting her hand drop back down by her side; the blood of the wound had dried by now, but it still hurt. "With the Resistance," she said. "I was going the wrong way for hours. They found me and pointed me in the right direction - not before pressing a knife to my throat and interrogating me, though, of course."

Nixon laughed. "Right. Of course." He took a sip from his canteen before speaking again. "A few of the men ran into various Resistance groups on their way in too. Looks like they've been busy."

Posey nodded. "Seems like they've been doing a lot to help with the invasion." She clasped her hands behind her back and decided to bite the bullet. "Sir, am I the last one back?"

Nixon laughed abruptly. He took another sip from his canteen before he replied. "No. No you're not the last - I hope not, anyway, otherwise we're gonna need a hell of a lot of replacements."

"People are still missing?"

"Majority of the company," Nixon confirmed. "Guys've been turning up all night, though. So we're hopeful."

"Where are they?"

"I last saw some of Easy back that way in the back of a truck. That was a couple hours ago now but you might find a few on the way."

Posey nodded, the makings of a smile creeping onto her face. "Right. Thank you, sir."

Nixon nodded. "Alright, Wells." With a nod and another sip on his canteen - which, Posey was beginning to suspect, likely didn't actually contain water - he was on his way, and so was she, in the opposite direction.

Light discipline was in full effect; there was little-to-no light anywhere, leaving an eerie darkness to settle over the silhouettes hurrying about. Noise discipline likely was, too, though that implementation wasn't nearly as successful. Posey strained her ears to listen for familiar voices and found herself wandering in circles before a voice saying, "Yeah, fuck you, Joe," much louder than necessary carried over to her on the breeze.

"Guarnere," she mumbled under her breath. Never had she smiled brighter at the thought that Bill Guarnere might be nearby.

She headed in the direction she thought the voice had come from and found a group of Easy Company men huddled together outside a bombed-out house. Posey tried not to pay too much attention to the house, which looked startlingly like her own had when she'd seen it in rubble for the first time, and instead let herself focus on the proximity of people she knew.