A Fight for Survival

Back at base

June 12th, 1944 - Carentan, France

The scent of burnt coffee grounds and cheap liquor hung heavy in the air, a strangely comforting aroma amidst the backdrop of war-torn France. Alexis, hunched over a chipped mug, cradled the warmth between her hands, her gaze distant. Across the makeshift table, Nixon swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the clinking ice the only sound breaking the silence.

"Hear that one, Lexi? War's supposed to be over by Christmas. Krauts are gonna pack it all in, just in time for carols and figgy pudding," Nixon drawled, using the nickname that Alexis hated but didn't care as his tone thick with sarcasm. Alexis offered a wan smile. "That's what they said last year, Nix." He chuckled, taking a long sip of his drink. "Always next year, eh? So, what's the word from upstairs? What fresh hell awaits Easy Company?"

Alexis sighed, setting down her mug. "More of the same, it seems. Push east, hold the line. They're expecting a counterattack." "Ah, the usual," Nixon quipped, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Can't let those Krauts get too comfortable." A shadow passed over Alexis's face. "Drew and Lipton..." she began, her voice catching. Nixon's playful demeanor softened. "They're tough, Lexi. They'll pull through." "I know," she whispered, her gaze dropping to her lap. "It's just...hard." Nixon leaned forward, his voice low and serious. "Listen, we all feel it. Every casualty, every injury...it takes a piece of you. But you can't let it break you. We've got a job to do, remember?" Alexis nodded slowly, a flicker of her usual fire returning to her eyes. "You're right. Thanks, Nix." She stood up, smoothing down her fatigues. "I'm going to check on Dick and Molly. See if they need anything." Nixon nodded, raising his glass in a silent salute. "Give 'em hell, Lexi." Alexis offered a tired smile before turning and heading towards the makeshift infirmary, her heart heavy with worry, but her resolve steeled. 

Later after Molly got her calf properly wrapped again by Doc Roe, Dick found himself seated on a makeshift stool while Roe prepped his ankle. "There she is..." Roe muttered, more to himself than anyone else, as he worked on the nasty wound. A pair of tweezers gripped a chunk of lead, pulling it free. "Lucky it was a ricochet. Just caught a piece of it." Dick winced, a grimace twisting his features. "Stupid," he muttered, more out of frustration than actual self-deprecation. Molly, who was close by, exchanged a worried look. "What?" Roe asked, his voice gentle. Dick shook his head, waving away their concern. "Nothing."

Roe finished bandaging the wound, his eyes scanning the faces of the other wounded men – Lipton, Frye, Tipper, Drew. Each face a testament to the brutal reality of war. "You gonna be able to stay off it?" Roe asked, his gaze returning to Dick. Dick managed a wry smile. "Doesn't look that way." Roe sighed, his expression turning serious. "We're not going to stay and enjoy our first town for long, are we?" Molly's gaze swept over the men, her own grief momentarily overshadowed by the needs of the living. She catches Mollys gaze and saunters on over "We expect a counterattack. Carentan's as important to them as it is to us." Alexis walks in, unable to help herself, leaned in. "Any idea when?" Dick glances over at the new arrival of the intelligence officer.

Dick shook his head, his jaw set. "We're not waiting around to find out. Division wants us to head east, toward the high ground, and set up a defensive position." "With all the flooded fields, it's the only direction they can approach from," Molly added, her voice heavy with the weight of command. Their conversation was interrupted when Dick noticed Albert Blithe sitting alone, his vacant stare a stark contrast to the bustling activity around him. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow. "Nothing. 'Cept he can't see," Roe replied, his voice barely a whisper. "Can't see?" Dick echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. "So he says," Roe confirmed.

Molly, her heart heavy with a mother's instinct, limped over to Blithe and knelt beside him. Her touch was gentle as she spoke his name, her voice soft with unshed tears. "Blithe?" She waved her hand in front of his face, but there was no reaction. "It's Lt. Nelson." Blithe stared straight ahead, his eyes empty and lost. "I don't know, ma'am. Things just kinda... went black on me." Molly's heart ached for him. She knew the horrors these men had seen, the things that could steal a man's sight and soul. "You can't see?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "Not a thing, ma'am. Not a thing." Molly peered into his sightless eyes, then looked over at Dick and Roe, who could only offer a helpless shrug. She gently placed her hand on Blithe's cheek, her touch full of a tenderness born from loss, a tenderness she wished she could offer to those who were gone. "Well, you just take it easy, Blithe, and we're gonna get you outta here. We'll get you back to England. You're gonna be okay."

"Ma'am, I didn't want to let anyone down..." Blithe stammered, his voice thick with shame. He turned his head in her direction, trying to focus on her voice, pained and embarrassed by his sudden helplessness. Molly's heart broke for him. She knew the courage it took to face this life, this war, and the fear that gnawed at them all. "Just take it easy. It's okay, kid," she soothed, her voice thick with emotion. She rose to her feet, her own pain momentarily forgotten as she rejoined Alexis, Dick and Roe. As she did so, Blithe rubbed his eyes, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. He blinked repeatedly, as if trying to will his sight back. "Let's get these men evacuated..." Dick said, his voice low and urgent. 

"Ma'am!" Blithe suddenly cried out, his voice stronger now, laced with disbelief. Dick and Molly turned to see Blithe standing, his eyes wide with wonder, as if seeing the world anew. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm okay. I think I'm going to be okay." Dick stared at him, speechless. Molly's heart soared with a mixture of relief and awe. "You can see?" "I don't know what happened," Blithe breathed, his voice trembling with emotion. "This is... thank God. I think I'm okay." Molly turned to Dick, a silent plea in her eyes for him to reassure the young private. He nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Alright. Well, uh, you stay here a little while longer, make sure," Dick instructed, his voice regaining its usual gruffness. "Then you can report back to your platoon." "Yes, sir," Blithe replied, a shaky smile spreading across his face. Dick, still a little spooked by the whole ordeal, exchanged a perplexed look with Roe. They'd seen a lot in this war, but some things defied explanation. "Let's start prepping to move out," Dick finally said, turning his attention back to the task at hand. 

The makeshift infirmary, a symphony of suffering and strained hope, pressed in around them. Dick shifted his weight, a grimace flickering across his face as his injured ankle protested. "Easy there, Dick," Alexis said softly, her hand instinctively reaching out to steady him. "Let me." She gently eased him down onto a crate, her touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "That ankle needs to rest if you're going to be any use on the next run." 

Dick chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Always looking out for me, Alex." "Someone has to," she shot back, but the warmth in her eyes belied her sharp tone. They both turned back to Molly, their smiles fading as they watched her fuss over Lipton's bandages. David, ever perceptive, had pulled a stool closer to the cot, allowing Molly to lean against his side as she worked. He hadn't said a word, but the way his arm rested protectively around her shoulders, his thumb gently stroking her arm, spoke volumes. 

"She does this," Dick murmured, his voice low, "takes on everyone else's pain as her own. Always has." Alexis nodded, her gaze fixed on her friend. "She blames herself, you know. Thinks she should have been there, should have seen it coming." "We all do, in a way," Dick said quietly. "But Molly...she's got a heart bigger than this whole damn war." Alexis reached out, squeezing his hand. "We'll get her through it. Together." As if sensing their gaze, Molly looked up, a watery smile gracing her lips. "Thanks, guys," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Just needed a minute." David, ever the joker, even now, winked at her. "Take all the minutes you need, Ginger. We're not going anywhere." He gestured towards Dick. "Well, except maybe him. He's got a face only a certain redhead could love." Dick snorted as he looks around the room totally embarrassed though a genuine laugh escaping him for the first time since the attack. "You wound me, Dick. You truly do." Molly giggled, a soft, fragile sound, but a sound nonetheless. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their friendship, the ever-present fear that had threatened to consume them receded just a little, replaced by a flicker of hope. The war wasn't over, not by a long shot. But neither were they.