Pitschen ma en gamba - Small, but powerful [A Band of Brothers Story]

Direct Hit

A/N: Hey guys, just to let you know, I finished the very last chapter of this story yesterday, so updates will be pretty regular from now on. Probably every other day, maybe every day, depends on how much time I have.

Warning: This is a sad one, guys, you know what's coming. Grab some tissues 'cause I sure needed them while writing this. Also, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, so please be careful if that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you.

Over the next week, they cleared the woods west of Foy. They met little resistance. They were getting shelled on a daily basis again and their numbers continued to dwindle rapidly. The three medics were back to an hour of actual sleep on average.

The NCOs got some more and the enlisted even a little more than the non-coms, but all in all, sleep deprivation was the number one ailment in the company once again. Or number two, constantly being cold usually took the top spot on the list.

Ella drifted from one foxhole to the next, catnapping whenever she could between her rounds. She kept up her tireless work to cheer up the guys, to chase away the shadows and pains for a few blessed minutes.

Now that her cough was actually getting better thanks to the penicillin, she found a bit of energy returning that she hadn't even noticed she'd been lacking. She used it to pay special attention to Malarkey.

Since Buck had been taken off the line with what she had reported as a 'severe case of trench foot', Don had become subdued and more serious. With the added responsibility of technically being in charge of 2nd Platoon and losing three of his best friends, it wasn't a surprise.

None the less, the ranking medic was worried. She did not want a repeat of what had happened to Lieutenant Compton, so she took the time to have a friendly chat with Malarkey whenever she had the opportunity. He appreciated it and soon enough, his smile lost some of its hollowness again.

***

But then came the night of January 9th, a night which added another bunch to the ever-growing pile of terrifying, painful and horrible memories that would stay with Ella for the rest of her life.

The small girl was ambling through the woods, on her way to Grant's foxhole to grab some shuteye when she caught sight of the small group. Just from the way they were holding themselves, she could tell who it was. Walking closer, she heard Luz' rendition of the story he'd told her a few days ago.

Voice pitched in an extremely good imitation of Dike, George said: "First Sergeant Lipton? You organise things here and I'm gonna go for...help."

His audience, none other than the rowdy trio – Skip, Penkala and Malarkey – cackled.

"I need to go polish my oak leaf clusters", Luz tacked on, still in his Dike voice.

Ella smiled and was about to make her presence known when Lipton, who happened to walk by and overhear them, beat her to it. "Hey Luz", he called, beckoning the radioman over.

George shared a look with his friends, mumbled a "See you, fellas" and went to receive his scolding.

The other three broke up as well, heading to their own foxholes. "Night all", Malarkey said.

"Yeah, see you, Luz. See you, Malark."

Malarkey turned and was only mildly surprised to see Easy's female medic standing there. That girl had the uncanny ability to be everywhere at once. She had a small smile on her face, but a furrow in her brow. He got the distinct feeling that something was wrong and he walked over to her.