𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; band of brothers ✔

PART TWENTY

Word count; 2,358

Eugene

— December 26th, 1944. Bastogne, Belgium.

I weaved around men as they climbed out of their foxholes, journeying to breakfast. The whole morning, neither of them had resisted to smile, for once unbothered by the snow but rather focused on the events of the previous day. Some had attached the small compasses to their webbing, others to their boots. Most kept them in their chest pocket, aware it could be the last gift they would ever receive.

Winters thumped a large box on the tree stump he normally used as a stool, beckoning me from my usual route of knitting through the company. I stuffed my fists into my handwarmers, feeling for the small compass between my thumb and index finger. Captain Nixon appeared from his own foxhole, cheeks grey from the lack of a shave.

"Patrol brought this back." Winters unclamped the wooden crate. "Said there were some bandages, some penicillin."

"Morphine?" I asked.

"None," Winters looked over his shoulder at Nixon, who squinted at a piece of paper. "Good morning, princess."

"Jesus," He muttered.

Winters questioned the exclaimation, gesturing towards the box before turning around. I began to dig through it, hoping that the patrol hadn't examined the contents properly, only to look up as I felt a pair of eyes land on me. It was only brief, a short glance before returning back to the man in front of him.

"How many?"

"They're unsure." Nixon crumpled the paper into his pocket. "A few civilians. Two Czech soldiers."

Winters looked at me again. Knowing that was my dismissal, I gulped, shutting the crate and continuing on my path.

"Hey, hey, Doc,"

I regarded my right, Babe climbing out from his foxhole.

"What's that?"

"Some supplies."

He rolled his eyes, "No shit. What kinda supplies?"

"Bandages, cough medicine, needles."

Heffron shivered, "Always hated needles."

I smiled awkwardly, he frowned.

"You're really bad to talk to." He tugged on my shoulder. "Come on. Get some grub."

"Not hungry." I resisted his touch.

"No shit. If you don't eat now, I'll find you tonight, all skin and bones and no food. You're coming."

And like that, he dragged me to breakfast. Half of the men had already finished their food, yet still loitered around the area, recollecting fond memories together.

"Hey, Doc!"

I halted, a soldier having pulled at the bottom of my trouser leg.

"What's the news?" Toye probed.

"I can't keep doing this, Toye."

"Hey, I saw you over there." He looked at the man next to him, both crouched around their bowls of food. "What's up? We going home yet?"

The two other faces nearby - Guarnere and Powers - looked up at me in anticipation. I ordered Heffron to get food. Squatting, they let out a small cheer and I rolled my eyes.

"What do you want to know?"

Guarnere spat, "If we're fuckin' going home or not."

"No. You're not going home yet."