An Expensive Solitude: A Band of Brothers Fanfiction

The Christmas Greeting

Christmas Eve, 1944

"What's merry about all this, you ask?" Samantha read aloud emphatically as she pranced towards Edith's desk. She peered over the paper with a crooked eyebrow. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm thinking. Thank you, General McAuliffe. It's been a pleasure."

Edith shook her head as Samantha handed her a fresh cup of coffee.

"The commentary can wait. Please just give me the gist."

Edith eased back in her chair, cradling the mug with both hands. Heaving a small sigh, Samantha brought the paper to eye level and read silently.

"Apparently General McAuliffe's response to the German commander's demand for surrender was rather short."

"How short?"

Samantha snorted. "All he said was 'Nuts'."

"Nuts?"

"Yes, nuts. I'm guessing there would be a few choice gestures that could have accompanied that as well." Samantha cleared her throat. "Also, according to the General, the boys on the frontline are giving us a worthy Christmas present with their service and are privileged to do so."

Edith brought the lip of her mug to her mouth and held it there without drinking. "I wonder how well Division is eating tonight compared with the men holding the line. Christmas eve dinner in Bastogne. Can you imagine?"

Samantha's eyes grew distant as she stared at the single sheet of news they had received concerning the surrounded 101st. Samantha wasn't reading anymore. Edith could only assume she was thinking of the curly headed Corporal from Mississippi who kissed her like he meant it.

"That's enough from the General, I think." Edith lifted a hand towards her. "We have a few more things to finish up around here before we can leave tonight."

Folding the sheet, Samantha handed it over to her boss. Edith gave her a reassuring nod. After attempting a faint grin, Samantha returned to her desk.

Deliberately, Edith opened the top right drawer on her desk and shoved the Christmas greeting into the back. She had a job to do. The last thing she needed to be focusing on was the plight of the 101st, the unit the newspapers were lauding as the 'Battered Bastards of the Bastion of Bastogne'. She wondered how much the 4F that had conjured that catchy slogan had been paid for his brilliance.

Turning back to her work, Edith sipped her coffee. She tasted chocolate and glanced over at Samantha. The young woman grinned as she typed out a memo.

"I broke up a Hershey bar that Smokey gave me before he left and put it in our cups to melt. I thought we could use something sweet."

Edith gave a breathy laugh, swirling the cup as she stared down into the light steam coming off the beverage. The damning memory of how meager the men's supplies had been as they had headed out of the camp struck with a vengeance. She was warm and fed, tucked into the relative safety of Mourmelon while they were being battered, frozen and starved. She wondered what Dick had to say concerning the General's cheery Christmas greeting.

Abruptly, she set down the cup and cranked a blank piece of paper into her typewriter. Outside the snow had picked up and was shushing against the glass pane like silk. Thinking of Captain Winters was fruitless. She shoved him into the back of her mind and hit the keys furiously as she wrote up a report for Division's most recent paper shortage.

The day after Christmas, news reached them of General Patton's third army breaking the line and freeing the entrapped 101st. With the route clear, there was a chance for the wounded to be evacuated and supplies shipped into the bereft paratroopers.

"Perhaps, they will be brought back to Mourmelon," Samantha had ventured softly after bringing in the news on the wings of fresh snow.

Edith's gaze trailed down to her galoshes as a puddle of fast melting ice pooled around Samantha's toes. She bit her lip and tapped her pencil on the desk.

"We can only hope."

It was a matter of how many soldiers they had to spare on the newly regained line and what Eisenhower had in mind for the Allied troops' next move. It would have to be impressive considering all they had suffered that past month.

The next morning, a skinny orderly from regiment shuffled in from the cold and boldly approached Edith's desk. He held out a small envelope with a brisk nod.

"From Colonel Sink." He sniffed, thrusting his reddened fingers in his pockets after she took it.

"You may go." Edith nodded.

After letting him out, Samantha paced towards her. She waited patiently, resting her hands on a chair catty-corner to Edith's desk. Edith swiveled towards the window. Night had already fallen hard and it was only 4:30 in the afternoon.

"Colonel Sink has received special permission for me to travel to the Bastogne area with the new wave of supplies being shipped in," Edith spoke succinctly, tucking the note back into its crisp envelope.

Samantha scoffed. "Your own father is calling you to the front?"

Edith was surprised by a faint grin playing at the corner of her mouth. "He said my presence is needed to maintain order with supply distribution. He doesn't trust anyone else."

Despite the fact that she had hungered for such confidence from her father for long as she could remember, she was hesitant. This was the first time she would be close to combat. In all her years with the Army, it was something she had never experienced. It left her conflicted.

"You are going to have to hold down the fort here while I'm gone." Turning back to Samantha, she was disturbed to find the girl's strained expression was pale. "I have complete faith that you will perform your duty to the best of your ability, Sergeant Quincey."

Samantha nodded silently, the tension around her mouth loosening. "As I have complete faith in you, Lieutenant Sink. I will keep things tidy for when you return."

Edith swallowed though her mouth was dry. "I will be leaving tomorrow with the first supply convoy out following General Taylor. I think I will leave early this afternoon to get some things ready. Will you be okay?"

"Will you?"

Edith straightened her posture and met Samantha's concerned glance directly. "I'm going to have to be."