Humanity of the Broken [ Band of Brothers ] 2

SEVEN

Her feet dragged through the snow as she walked from where the jeep dropped her off into the Battalion CP. The sun hadn't even fully risen yet. The cuts on her face, especially the one above her left eye, made her skin feel tight as she yawned. It took serious thought to make her feet lift above the snow drifts.

The CP stood quiet. No one moved around, a surprise to her. Usually someone was up before the sun. Taking a few moments to just breathe, Alice slipped her helmet off. It hung by her side. A gust of wind forced her to turn her face away, trying not to freeze. She sputtered as she attempted, poorly, to suppress her cough.

Muscle memory took her towards the Intelligence tent. Everything looked the same as the hour before the bombing. Even her mostly melted Vat 69 snow cone still sat at the table. As light began to fill the CP, the lean-to include, she sank down into the wooden chair. Her body absolutely ached, fatigue taking over in a way it hadn't perhaps ever before. The cold, the lack of sleep, and, she realized, the fact that she hadn't really anything at all the day before, completely sapped Alice of all energy.

Alice put her arms on the table. Her helmet lay beside her. Shifting the snow cone to the side, she all but collapsed onto her arms. The warmth of her breath in the little crevice of her arms offered a strangely lovely relief from the frigid winds. With the warm air and her steady breathing calming her down, Alice drifted off to sleep.

It was Dick who found her. He moved into the tent, reading a report that Ron had brought from Dog. But the pile of messy, grimey blonde hair on the table made him stop. A mix of relief and disbelief filled him. Reports of the bombing of Bastogne had trickled in throughout the night, but no one had exact casualty counts or names for anyone. He'd seen Gene half an hour before but hadn't had a chance to flag him down.

With a deep breath, he turned and walked out of the tent. In the center of the CP, Nixon, Ron, and Buck stood around a small pot of coffee. They'd watered it way down, but at least it was something.

"I found her," Dick said. Gesturing behind to the tent, he took the cup offered from Nixon. "Thanks."

"She alright?" asked Nixon.

Dick nodded between sips of the watered down coffee. "Looks like it. She fell asleep at the table."

Handing his cup back to Nixon, he moved towards her foxhole. Blanket in hand, he moved back inside. With the blanket draped over her body, he rejoined the other officers outside. Dick sighed. "How many k rations do we have left? When she wakes up she needs to eat. She didn't eat dinner with Easy last night."

Nixon nearly choked on his drink. "What?" When they all looked at him strange, he shook his head. "Well she didn't eat lunch either. She said she wasn't hungry."

The cup left Dick's mouth. He stared at Nixon first, then back to the tent where Alice slept. He shook his head. "Are you telling me she hasn't eaten in at least twenty-four hours?"

The half-scoff, half-sigh that came from Ron summed up all their opinions. "That sounds just like her. I swear, how she can be as smart as she is and still be so stupid, I will never understand."

None of them disagreed with him. Buck just shook his head with a tiny smile. "At least she's got guts."

Both Buck and Ron had to return to their companies. It left Nixon and Dick standing in the center of the CP, Strayer back in Bastogne with Sink surveying the damage of the air raid. They inventoried their supplies for rations. It was only when they got ready to sit down to a meager lunch that Alice made an appearance.

The blanket Dick had brought to her wrapped around her body like a cape. Alice had put her helmet back over her head. With droopy eyes and borderline clammy skin, she joined them.