Nineteen-year-old Judith Sanders, a talented photographer, is sent to the front lines to capture the unfiltered reality of war.
Assigned to Easy Company, Judith follows them through Toccoa and into the horrors of war in Europe.
As time goes on, Ju...
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Chapter 3:
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Judith stepped through the main gate of Camp Toccoa. The dusty paths stretched out before her, winding between barracks and training fields. The sound of commands and marching boots echoed in the air, mixing with the rhythmic rustling of the wind through the sparse trees. The scent of damp earth and gasoline lingered, with the faint traces of a recent rain still present.
With her camera hanging around her neck, Judith instinctively reached for the small cross on her necklace. A piece of home, a piece of her mother, something to keep her grounded. The cool metal in her hand offered comfort as she surveyed the scene with the eyes of a photographer.
She saw instantly what others might have missed. When you've spent enough time looking for the perfect shot, like Judith had, you start to see them everywhere. It was a comforting thought.
She paused, taking in the camp, and snapped a few shots—barracks, soldiers marching in step, and the imposing backdrop of Mount Currahee. The click of the shutter calmed her, a familiar rhythm amidst all the newness.
"You're the photographer, right?" A voice broke her concentration.
Judith turned to see a young officer standing with his arms crossed. His face was friendly but neutral, with a hint of skepticism in his eyes.
"Yes, that's me," she replied, nodding slightly as she carefully lifted the camera from her neck.
"Alright, come with me. Major Sink wants to see you." Without another word, he led the way, and Judith followed, feeling the uneven ground beneath her boots. The wind carried the scent of fresh grass and motor oil, a strange combination that disoriented her senses.
They made their way through the sprawling camp, past marching soldiers, to a low building.
The soldier explained that she needed to register officially before he knocked firmly on Major Sink's office door.
"Come in."
Major Sink sat behind a heavy desk, watching her closely as she entered.
"Miss Sanders, I presume," he said, his expression giving nothing away.
"Yes, sir," she replied, lifting her chin slightly to mask her nerves.
Sink leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I'll be straight with you. We're not exactly thrilled about having a photographer here. Even less about having a woman."
Judith swallowed, but met his gaze. "I understand, sir. But I'm here to do my job and prove you haven't made a mistake."
Sink snorted, though it wasn't entirely unfriendly. "We'll see. If you really want to get to the front, you'll do the full training. We don't send anyone out there who isn't prepared. You either keep up or pack your things and go. No special treatment. Understood?"
