All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

66: Parade

Lieutenant Dike was quickly becoming one of Posey's least favourite people. The man was a showboat and there was no denying it; he filled their days with drills and parade marches, polishing them up until they could advertise his company as the picture of neatness and formality.

Parade marches were useless in the field - indeed, Easy hadn't done one since training - and yet Dike drilled them on it so rigorously one would have assumed it would serve to keep them alive in combat. Even still, they were in Mourmelon on R and R, not for training. Realistically, they didn't need to be doing anything, much less marching around a parade ground for the sake of Lieutenant Dike.

Really, Posey knew it was a way for him to show off his shiny new company to the brass who'd put him in charge. He was a stripe-chaser if ever she'd seen one, absolutely desperate for a promotion.

Posey stood beside her squad in a line of the NCOs of Second Platoon, marching forwards with her eyes set firmly on the back of Tab's head. She kept from gritting her teeth in irritation only by consciously reminding herself that dinner was after this, and Dike could never be bothered to oversee what they did after dinner. Once Bull, at the front of the line, reached the edge of the courtyard they were using, the platoon executed an about face as one before switching their guns to their other sides and marching back the way they came. It was mind-numbing. Posey had been bored by parade marches even the first time they'd ever done one, but now she knew how useless they were in combat they made her want to scream.

The moment Dike dismissed them, Posey's shoulders slumped as though a ventriloquist had dropped her strings. She took her time wandering back to the barracks and fell into step beside whoever else wasn't in such a hurry.

"He's a fucking prick," she murmured to Skip beside her once she'd caught sight of who it was.

Skip, who had always taken whatever life threw at him with a shrug and an easy grin, laughed. "Who? Foxhole Norman?"

Posey grimaced even at the sound of his name. "Who else?"

"Got that right, Duckie," Skip replied with a laugh, squinting into the wind.

Posey's ears burned and her cheeks stung with the cold, the bite in the air betraying how close they were to December. Soon, it'd be Christmas. If Market Garden had succeeded, they'd have been in Germany by now and then on their way home.

"Christmas soon," Posey said, thinking aloud. She didn't want to think about Dike and how much she despised him anymore, not now that she wouldn't be seeing him until tomorrow.

"Is it?" Skip asked sarcastically, burrowing further into his ODs in the hopes of fending off the cold. "I hadn't noticed."

Posey smirked, shaking her head. "Lucky you.

"If Market Garden didn't fall on its ass we'd be getting ready to go home, huh?" he went on, his tone cheerful in spite of the melancholic nature of his words.

Posey hummed her assent before replying, "Guess we're lucky that we get to spend Christmas altogether." It was true, in some senses, that Posey was grateful for the company she was keeping, it was just unfortunate that the price of them being together was going through hell. With every passing day it was getting harder to stay optimistic. With every passing day it was getting harder to stay, full stop. Posey knew everyone else was feeling it too when her and Skip entered Second Platoon's barracks and were greeted with the conversation of weekend passes.

It was like being back at Toccoa, though as very different people to who they'd been at the time. Back then they'd insisted they needed weekend passes when they hadn't, not really. Now, what else was there to live for? Yes, much had changed since their days at basic training. Posey's heart ached for the people they'd been back then.