Genesis: the Beginning and the End | Band of Brothers

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ５ － Ｕｓｅ】

Chapter 5 - Use

They left the farm at Culloville just as the eastern sky began to pale.

Easy Company moved quietly through the Normandy countryside toward Vierville. The small town was liberated with little resistance, and a command post set up in a farm just a mile down the road.

Here they rested. And more of Easy filtered in as it approached mid-morning.

They stayed in this area for the day, sending out patrols, and planning something. Florence was not privy to whatever was happening. It wasn't the end of the world. Nor were all the whispers and the constant questions asked by every single trooper who reached them throughout the day;

"What's a broad doing here?
"Why is she in ODs?"
"Do you reckon I could score with her?"

and the like.

It was her own fault really. If she kept the helmet on, people wouldn't notice so much, but the blasted thing didn't fit properly, inhibited her sight and quite frankly was a safety hazard. If she couldn't see where she was going or everything around her, then she was more vulnerable, had more blind spots. So she did not wear it. It was nearby, if needs must.

Monotonous and Boring was her day. Listen to the same questions being asked over and over like she couldn't hear them, tell "superior officers" to sod off, then explaining to them that of course she wasn't one of their soldiers, she's a bloody woman, and English for Christ's sake.

They didn't like her.

And she didn't like them. It was not her job to like the Americans, it was not their job to like her. Her job was done, and their job was to safely deliver her back to England in a couple of days – that was what they'd told her – oh, and maybe liberate France in the meantime?

She guessed her job now could be to survive Normandy, but she'd been doing that anyways, but she was now more likely to get shot or blown up or both because the Germans would be shooting at her. Not at her at her, no, they wouldn't be specifically targeting her, just the sea of olive, which she was now a part of. She was so going to die.

Perhaps her job instead could be to not die, and maybe to not get any of Easy Company killed. Or maybe it would be to guide them through Normandy, after all she'd been there for a while, wandered around France for 2 years (the technical term being: in hiding). But they seemed to have Intelligence and Navigation under control.

Well shit.

She was pretty fucking useless then.

Wonderful.

Maybe one of the yanks would just shoot her. It would be less hassle for all involved if they shot her and left her to bleed out. Less for all involved, except Michaёl.

Genesis was passed the point of caring about Michaёl, and what he'd say, what he'd think. He left her in fucking occupied France, bitched and whined about her disappearing, not so much asking if she was ok or safe – she was not ok, she'd been almost killed, then almost died in a field or wood somewhere (she could not remember, that part was always hazy). She did not care about what made his life easier. What would've made her life easier was a nice, clean extraction. But here she was, still in occupied Normandy, sitting around in ill-fitting boots and helmet, scowling at anyone who came too close, pretending she could not feel and was not unnerved by hundreds of eyes staring at her.

She was tired, stressed to hell, hungry, and though she had never smoked, she felt she could use one. But she'd just have to deal with it. No one would actually help her, they'd only help themselves, they were yanks, and arrogant with a capital a. And insufferable to a T.

A few days. A few days.

A few days too long.

Christ, she would shoot someone if they didn't stop staring and whispering.

Ah but it all stopped, eventually. Florence didn't even know how much time had passed, but everyone was getting up, someone shouting that they were moving out.

She rose, and drifted over to the company.

"Listen up! It'll be dark soon," Florence looked around, Lieutenant Welsh was right. She'd been sitting for a few hours. "I want light and noise discipline from here on out. That means no talking, no smoking, and no playing grab fanny with the guy in front of you Luz."

She didn't want to find out. Not at all. Looking around to see where Luz was, she found him smirking next to her. His arm twitched and she had a bayonet out in a flash.

"Touch me and I'll castrate you slowly, painfully and publicly."

He chuckled, and held his hands up until she put the blade away. His easy smile put her at ease, and felt a small smile of her own creep onto her face.

They were to head to Carentan, to link the beaches Utah and Omaha. In fact, the whole division was being sent there by General Taylor... whoever he was.

"Remember Boys, gimme three days and three nights of hard fighting, and you will be relieved!" Everyone chuckled or smiled, so it seemed to Florence that his impression was good, though she couldn't give an opinion. She didn't know General Taylor. Or whoever it was meant to be.

They began to move out. Easy was to fall in behind Fox in the order of 1st, 2nd, then 3rd platoon.

George Luz struck again as they did.

"And another thing to remember; flies spread disease, so keep yours closed."

More laughs.

Florence rolled her eyes but found herself chuckling and that the small smile from earlier was back. There were a few raised eyebrows, but she stared past them. Just because she didn't like them didn't mean she couldn't laugh. She wasn't a complete bitch.

...

Nope.

They walked through the night. The only time they broke silence was to find out why they'd stopped. The answer? Fox Company. Always Fox, leaving them behind, disappearing into the dark. She was fast growing tired of their shit, and she was not alone.

It was bad enough that they were stumbling through a swamp on fire- which didn't make sense to her but she figured that, had she been allowed to go to and finish school, she would've understood. But when it was so dark you lost the company before you, she was sick of it all. Home is where she should be. No not home. London. In her flat. With her bed and her bath and her blankets and her skirts and shoes. She should be suffering through a debrief, perhaps being dismissed, even fired for the shit she pulled two years back.

_

Isn't this exciting?

What are we thinking so far?