CHAPTER FOUR - OPERATION COBRA

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Amelia Greene -

Three weeks went by incredibly fast. I can't even tell you what we did each of those twenty-one days. Something along the lines of working till our bones went dry.

Zussman's doing alright. He still has another week before he returns, and I haven't had the chance to visit. But I hope he knows I want to.

Rumors floated around camp, mostly of when we were going to take the next step in taking Marigny, a coveted French village. It could be any day now, but I have a vague feeling that Turner's next address to us will be important.

Whilst we waited, the boys entertained themselves talking about boxers. I listen because I want to make them feel like their conversation was interesting, though it wasn't my forte.

Aiello is smoking. Not a surprise but still an unwelcome one. Stiles is fidgeting with his camera, whilst Daniels is cleaning his m1.

"Schmeling versus Lamotta?" Aiello asks. I don't know a face to the name but know they're talking about boxing.

"Schmeling would've K.O'd Lamotta." Stiles has an odd way of sounding uninterested in everything.

"No way," Daniels replies, "and Schmeling's a Nazi. I'd shoot him in a heartbeat." This must've offended Stiles and Aiello because they held their arms out in similar ways.

"They made him their poster boy. That guy didn't have a choice." Maybe so, maybe not. I don't know, I don't pay attention.

"We all have a choice," Daniels replies sternly. He's the most patriotic of the group. Probably a Texas thing.

"You know Nietzsche said that there was only strong and -" Stiles was going to finish off his quote, but Aiello interrupts.

"Ah, that's enough mouth. Alright, what about Louis versus Sugar Ray Robinson?" Daniels opens his mouth to reply.

"If we're talking 1938 Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson wins hands down." Zussman's voice startles us all. He walks over with a particular swagger that screams, 'I lived,' and a huge grin.

Daniels stands up, grinning. "Ay, look who came back for more." They quickly hug, as Aiello, Stiles, and I smile. "Thought you were out another week?"

"Not after I heard a bunch of tough S.O.Bs were about to take Marigny. Of course, including Greene." I scrunch my nose at him.

"Well, playbooks working. This rate we'll be home by Christmas." I smile, I always love when Aiello was positive and enthusiastic. I didn't come often, but I cherished it when it did.

"Don't just stand there, let's see." Aiello continues, referencing the inevitable scar on Zussman's torso. I shift, the sight being all too familiar.

"Alright," Zussman says, dropping his bag. He pulls down the top of his trousers and the bottom of his jacket up. "Not bad, eh?"

I tilt my head to get a better look. A diagonal scar, about four inches long. It still has dark bruising around it but looks pretty okay. "Eh, I've seen worse."

I shoot Aiello a flat look. No mercy even for the wounded.

"Glad to have you back, Private." Turner's voice comes from behind us and I jump. He stands there with Pierson, who avoids eye contact with me but looks pretty mellow.

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