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

Preparing for Patrol

Ella felt like merely an hour had passed when a hand on her shoulder lightly shook her awake. The sound that left her mouth was much closer to a reluctant mewl than an actual groan and it made the person responsible for pulling her out of her sleep chuckle.

Sitting up, the ranking medic scrubbed a hand over her face. I bi wach, i bi wach, she told herself, as if thinking it would make it true.

She was already in her boots and nearly done tying them by the time her brain caught up with her eyes. Oh.

Sergeant Chuck Grant stood in front of her, waiting patiently for her to finish dressing. He was clearly amused by her groggy state.

"Sorry", she mumbled, pulling her soft, clean hair into a bun. "I think I'm gonna need a nap to recover from sleeping."

Grant laughed quietly. "You can sack out again after the briefing", he said, holding out her helmet and satchel. She took the items with a grateful smile.

Before leaving the room, she quickly checked on Lipton and was happy to see him still sleeping like a log. His temperature was still up, but it seemed to be going down.

"Is he okay?", Chuck asked as they climbed the stairs to the dining room turned briefing room.

"I gave him something earlier", the young girl replied. "It's a bit of an all-purpose cure to be honest and the way it looks, it also helps with pneumonia, so I'm cautiously optimistic that he's getting better."

Grant nodded. They were all worried about the First Sergeant and hearing the small medic's prognosis was music to his ears.

***

Most of the men were already there, slouched in the chairs with their boots propped up on the table. Ella saw Lieutenant Jones standing next to the door and Vest by the window. Das dörf ez abr nid wohr sii, she cursed in her mind. Who volunteers for such a shit mission?

Giving the boys a smile, she settled on the armrest of Babe's chair, pulling her feet up to get comfortable.

"C'mon", Ramirez spoke into the tensely quiet room, "he can't be leading." It was clear to everyone who he meant.

"I'm not sure what they decided", Jackson offered.

Chuck shook his head. "No way. Not on his first day."

"Well, do you see any other officer here?", asked Liebgott rhetorically.

Ella had to admit they had a point. Lieutenant Jones had no experience whatsoever. There was no way Captain Winters would let him lead a high-risk patrol.

Footsteps clomped up the stairs. Cobb, Skinny, Garcia and Alley entered the room, all looking frustrated, resigned and exhausted in varying degrees.

Popeye glanced Cobb up and down.

"What?", the man snapped.

"They call you guys too?", Popeye asked the 1st Platoon men for the sake of breaking the tension. A few disgruntled nods were the reply.

Resting his arms on the back of a chair, Alley groused: "So, who is in charge of this bullshit?" He glanced behind him at the green lieutenant.

"No he ain't", Grant answered the unspoken question.

"Well if he ain't, it's you, Chuck", Babe determined. "Or Shifty, or Moe."