Women of War - A Band of Brothers Story

Hard Hit

A/N: Hello everybody! I hope you are all doing well. No long author's note this time because I am really tired and I don't want to bore you each time with the woes and troubles of my life ;)

I just wanted to thank all of you for reading this story and for your lovely comments. It makes me so happy to see that you enjoy my work.

Back to their old position, Easy was met with a sobering sight. Trees burst, the snow black and riddled with charred grooves in places. Branches, fir and splintered wood everywhere.

Ana María bit her lip, dark eyes travelling to the edge of the forest. Just down the hill lay Foy, out of sight, but not out of mind. Personally, she hoped the assault on the German-occupied town would come sooner rather than later. It would put an end to the incessant shelling.

Shaking off the distracting musings, she set about fortifying the cover of her foxhole. The logs and branches laying across the hole looked rather worse for wear, the soot and scorch marks littering them strangely reminiscent of an expressionist painting her mother had shown her once.

The Puerto Rican looked up when Frances came over, dragging a few sturdy branches behind her.

"Need a hand?", she offered.

"No, thanks. I'm just about done."

Frances nodded appraisingly as she studied the reinforced cover. "Did those clowns from 1st shit into your foxhole too?"

"Fó!" Face puckering up in revulsion, Ana María questioned: "They did that?!"

"Yeah..." Equally disgusted, Frances rolled her eyes. "I'm not getting in there. I mean, I've crawled through mud and blood and pig's guts, but this? Hell no."

"You gotta draw the line somewhere", Ana María agreed, squinting against the snow coming down in thick flakes. "Dios mio." She tsked, scrunched up her nose. "Guarros..."

"Hm. Anyways, see you around, I gotta get back to Suerth. Wouldn't be fair to let him dig our new foxhole on his own."

Their only warning was a brief high-pitched whistle.

"Incoming!", Theresa could be heard bellowing further up the line.

The first shells struck. A tree exploded.

"Take cover!"

Maxine shielded her face when wooden debris blasted at her from the side. "Get up!", she shouted at a cowering replacement that had been knocked over. "Up!"

The forest lit up in orange and white, the detonations slamming into her diaphragm like fists. Disoriented by the flashes and sharp noises, she stumbled as the ground beneath her feet jerked and heaved. The air reeked of gunpowder and burnt wood.

Somebody yelled "They're 88s!" like it would make a difference with what type of infernal artillery device they got shot at.

A shell whined in, shredding branches and tree limbs. Maxine hit the ground, grunting as something struck her back hard enough to bruise. She tasted ash.

"They got us zeroed!", she heard Buck holler over the din and chaos.

She found another man wobbling along. Grabbing him by the forearm, she dropped into the first empty foxhole she could see, forcing his head down. "Stay low!", she called. Half a tree's worth of deadwood came down on them.

Another close hit showered them in hot slush, the force of the blast stealing their breaths.

"Cover your ears, close your eyes, keep your mouth open!", Maxine shouted.