All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

52: Fragile

Posey found it difficult to believe she was ever as green as the replacements. Recalling that the likes of the veterans of Second Platoon had been that bright-eyed and bushy-tailed once upon a time, and not even very long ago, was somewhat jarring. When she watched the replacements fumble with their magazines at the rifle range or struggle to keep up during PT or mess up yet another training exercise because they just didn't know what they were supposed to be looking out for, she had to try hard to empathise. That had been her not so long ago, and how scared had she been before jumping into Normandy?

But it was hard to empathise with the replacements when they were just so naïve. She liked a few of them well enough but some of the things they came out with...

The replacements tended to be at the height of their greenery during manoeuvres training.

On these training exercises, they didn't work with real bullets. Naturally. And it was a good thing, too, because they'd all be dead if they did. After orders had been dished out and the rival platoon or squad had been located, Posey would ready her gun as if she was actually going to shoot it. It was always empty on these exercises, so she clicked off her safety and adjusted her sights as necessary. As soon as the order went out to shoot, she would rise from her crouched position and 'fire' where she saw fit.

The replacements, on the other hand, would fumble with their strap, or rush to click off the safety at the last minute, or drop the gun altogether, as was the case on one occasion with one particularly ill-prepared private. None of them ever adjusted their windage and elevation. Posey had to remind them every time as they trekked back to the meeting point.

"Always, always, always check your windage and elevation and adjust as you see fit before an attack," she would lecture. "Alright? The element of surprise only works to your advantage if you're quick, and it doesn't matter if you've got the best aim in the world, if your windage and elevation aren't right then the bullet won't do fuck all."

To their credit, the replacements hung onto her every word when she lectured them. This was the case when any of the veterans offered them a bit of combat advice; they'd drink it up like parched men exploring the Sahara, but then they'd forget all about it in the heat of the moment. They needed not to forget.

On this particular occasion, Posey had had enough of the messy gun preparations.

"Strap, windage, elevation, safety. Got it? You need to check all of them. How many times have I told you not to forget windage and elevation? These things are gonna save your life once you get into combat."

"We ain't in combat," muttered one of the replacements. Posey didn't turn back to see who it was, just continued following Bill at the front of their group on the way to meet up with the rest of the platoon again.

"Yet," she hissed. "When you get into combat and find your bullets swerving way past your targets, you're gonna panic. It doesn't take much to panic when there are bullets flying at you from all directions. Adjusting your sights before you're trying to outrun death may be the difference between you winning that race and losing it."

"Listen to 'im," Bill grumbled, turning back to look the replacements following immediately behind them in the eye. "He used to be a rifleman just like you. Got promoted to sharpshooter 'cause he knows his shit." He turned back around and, under his breath so only Posey could hear, said, "And if I have to listen to the gun speech one more fuckin' time..."

Posey grinned. "You're the one who put me up for a promotion."

Bill brushed her aside with a flick of the hand. "Buck agreed too. After that patrol when you had to get close to that sniper."