Genesis: the Beginning and the End | Band of Brothers

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ６２ － Ｒ＆Ｒ】

Chapter 62 - R&R

The day after her birthday, October 24th, she was still a bit hungover.

But she spent as much of the day with her brother as she could because he, and the rest of the Red Devils left for England that evening. And just before he left, he promised that when this was all over, he'd go home so that he could be at home waiting for her. Margaret tried to give back his beret, but was instructed to keep it.

"I can get another, and besides, it was a present."

The rest of the week was quite uneventful. Easy Company moved about a bit, ending up in Driel – just outside Arnhem – at the end of the month.

Then Moose was shot by a nervous sentry.

Margaret had been with Gene when he was told. She'd fetched the stretcher and helped put Moose on it and get him into the ambulance. She was there when Dick and Harry admitted to not knowing how much morphine they'd given him. She'd listened as Gene ripped into them about how he could die.

Then she stood with them and watched the ambulance go.

"Look, syrettes are 1 dose each. Never give more than one. It doesn't matter how much pain they appear to be in, got it?"

They both nodded nervously.

A few days later, they were assigned a new CO. Lieutenant Norman Dike. Though Margaret did not talk to him, and did her best to just fade into the sea of men, he seemed to be mild mannered – nice enough. And then it came to actual combat.

Fucking twit disappeared. Never made any fucking decisions.

If he ever stuck around long enough, Margaret thought she might shoot him herself and be done with it.

For three weeks they bounced around Holland, holding this part of the line and that, supporting this regiment or this company.

And Margaret was just so tired.

But then, on the 25th of November, after enduring three fucking weeks of Foxhole Norman's bullshit, some news came.

Easy Company was officially on R an' R, rest and recuperation!

Though they weren't told where they were going, Margaret didn't mind. She slept for the...maybe 8 hours? She slept for the journey there, once again finding a pillow in Liebgott's shoulder. He didn't mind. In fact he offered up his shoulder when Martin, sat opposite, pointed out that she could barely keep her eyes open.

When she was woken, she found herself curled up into Joe, with his arm around her. It was nice. Not comfortable, not really, but nice.

But it was cold when they stepped out of the trucks, and Margaret wished she'd had time to knit a scarf for herself. At least those that had them could pull them out of their packs and wrap them tight around their necks.

After a few days of settling in, and a lot of sleeping, as well as enjoying the hot showers – the guys were very good and wouldn't allow anyone in when she was using them, even going so far as to stand guard – Foxhole Norman had them parading around in a glorified carpark.

However, Captain Winters came to her rescue. She was made his runner. Margaret thought this was for one of two reasons. 1) She wouldn't have to be introduced to Lieutenant Dike yet (she was not looking forward to that) or 2) to save her from humiliating herself because she did not know how to stand or walk or where to be for the parading. She didn't even know what else to call it other than parading.

Someone, she wouldn't name names and get them into trouble, had snuck out to Reims, and sourced some wool for her. So the large attic a lot of the guys were in was filled with the soft click click of her needles each night. It calmed her, and them. Every so often there would be a pause, and after the first few times the guys realised she was looking at the empty bed she'd declared was Bill's. It was below hers in the rows of beds, quite near to the door. She'd claimed one by a window for herself.

One night, Luz managed to wrangle what seemed like half the company up there for "story time". It resulted in Margaret reciting Beatrix Potter stories after she got bored of listening to them try and make up stories.

Her dad used to read them to her all the time. When he died, she read them to feel closer to him. Even as she recited The Tale of Peter Rabbit for Easy Company, she could still hear him reading it, something she was glad for. He always read them when she was ill, it didn't matter to him how old she got, he'd always sit in her chair and read them to her whilst she lay in bed. When she was little, he'd climb into bed with her to read.

"Hey, Watkins, you okay?"

Margaret blinked hard a few times and shook her head to try and clear it.

"Uh, yeah. I...I was just remembering...sorry, where was I?"

"Peter just escaped Mr. McGregor's garden."

Margaret nodded and smiled and thanked Petty. So she took a deep breath, and continued.

Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scarecrow to frighten the black birds.

Peter never stopped running or looked behind him until he got home to the big fir-tree.

As she finished, she thought about her father again. Glancing at his watch on her wrist, she smiled, knowing what he'd had engraved on the bottom.

It was odd, he had been at peace with his death long before he got ill. He'd started saying things, preparing, teaching Margaret and Ripley more and more.

He knew he was going to die.

_

And we're in Mourmelon, finally. Which...probably isn't a good thing for Peggy - we'll see.