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

Points

Austria was beautiful.

Sweeping fields, snow-capped mountains, trees with full, green canopies of leaves. As they travelled through the gorgeous landscape, the company marvelled the breath-taking scenery. Smiles stole themselves onto their features and refused to leave. Even those with the most gruelling hangovers couldn't help but admire the paradise they were entering.

Every now and again, they passed surrendering German troops. The enemy soldiers looked weary, exhausted, but more often than not, Ella saw relief on their faces. The relief of knowing that they didn't have to fight anymore, that they could go home, back to their lives.

The trucks moved down the long, meandering road, into the town of Zell am See.

It didn't take long for the ranking medic to spy the glittering lake in the distance and poke Luz in the ribs.

"Look!"

She gestured towards the deep blue body of water, bouncing in her seat like an excited puppy.

George nodded, a boyish grin pulling on his lips. "Oh, I see a water fight coming", he declared, eyes twinkling with mischief.

She was all smiles and called to the other occupants of the truck: "Get your swimming trunks ready, boys!"

They laughed, all excited by the prospect of taking a plunge into the clear lake.

"What about you, Shorty?", Liebgott challenged with a smirk. "You got your swimsuit packed?"

She sent him a look of mock-incredulity and shot back laughing: "That's for me to know and for you to find out!"

***

They disembarked in front of a nice, rather noble looking hotel similar to the Berchtesgadener Hof. Word had it Colonel Sink had liked that accommodation so much that he had told Winters to find something equally comfortable.

After getting her orders, Ella rounded up her colleagues and handed out the assignments. They would be working with the German medical staff, taking care of their wounded. Delegating the tasks, she then set out to find the man in charge of the medical personnel.

Asking around a little, she was soon pointed into the direction of a small shop that had obviously been converted into a doctor's office.

The meeting with her German counterpart, a thirty-something Unteroffizier with a broad accent that took some getting used to, was relaxed and much easier than she had dared hope.

He snapped to attention when she entered, recognising her higher rank. He hid his surprise well as he introduced himself: "Unteroffizier Jonathan Winkler, Frau Feldwebel."

She returned the salute with a smile and replied: "Staff Sergeant Ella Sawyer. Bitte, nennen Sie mich Ella."

He blinked, but then allowed himself a smile. "Nur, wenn Sie mich Jonathan nennen."

With that, the tension was broken and they discussed the details of their collaboration, figuring out a way to avoid as many communication problems as possible and drawing up a roster to ensure that they weren't stuck at the aid station day in day out.

***

The first couple of weeks, the ranking medic was busy examining and treating the wounded German soldiers, caring for them until they were fit to be transported to a nearby POW camp.

The patients had been moved to the large aid station they had set up, making it easier for the medics to keep an eye on their condition. Just like on the battlefield, the medics from both sides worked hand in hand without problems. A patient was a patient, no matter his nationality.