All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

05: Train

'Dear Mrs. Daniels,'

"Missin' home already, Wells?"

Posey made a show of rolling her eyes at Guarnere's comment but kept her head bent down over her paper where she had it flat against her copy of Twelfth Night. She had the book propped against her thighs where her feet were flat on the mattress, knees pointed skyward whilst she sat back against the metal headboard. She was grateful once more for having gotten to choose her bunk, for one of the three uncovered lightbulbs that hung over the left side of the barracks dangled right above her head.

'Admittedly, I haven't much to report yet (I've only been here a few hours) so I suppose I'm only really writing to have someone to talk to. Someone I know, that is. Someone who knows me. I'll fill you in on what there is to say anyway.'

"Got a broad waitin' for ya back home, Wells? That who you're writin' to?"

She didn't know who had spoken but she didn't look up to check. Instead, she smiled to herself and shook her head, rolling her pencil around between her fingers as she considered what she'd write next.

'Georgia is hot. Stiflingly so. I haven't been so hot in all my life so I hardly know how I'm going to be able to manage intense physical training in such oppressive heat. I'm hopeful, however, that my experience in running for cover from previous years will serve me well where stamina is concerned.'

Posey couldn't help but laugh at her own equivocation there. She knew she couldn't be too specific in her letters because the army would be checking them to censor before sending them off, but Mrs. Daniels would certainly recognise her intended meaning. 'Experience in running for cover' was a very nice way of putting 'running to the bomb shelter in the pitch darkness whilst the Luftwaffe flew overhead, about to bomb yet another part of a once-glorious city'.

She was bitter to recall that fear. The unrivalled terror she had experienced during the Blitz before she'd been evacuated was something none of these men had ever even remotely experienced. They didn't know the sound of German aeroplane engines so intimately they'd recognise them even asleep, weren't haunted by the high whine of the bombs they dropped right before the resounding crash destroyed yet another school, church, or home. They didn't know fear like she knew it. They didn't know desperation. As far as they were concerned, this was all still a game.

"I got a broad waiting for me back home," a voice Posey recognised as belonging to Skip Muck had declared when she'd been writing.

"Got a picture?" Malarkey asked. He leaned forwards on his bunk as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the photograph even before Skip had retrieved it.

"Faye Tanner," Skip said with a nod.

Posey glanced up to find him showing Malarkey and a few of the other men the picture. Malarkey let out a low whistle whilst some of the others nodded their approval.

"She's a dish, Skip," Luz commented, still gazing down at the photograph. "She got a sister?"

Posey laughed along with the others and turned her eyes back to her letter. She chewed briefly on the end of her pencil as she ran through different ideas of what to write next in her head.

'The men in my platoon are a patchwork of characters. Some are incredibly loud and boisterous, others mellow and reserved. I fear I've already made an enemy of one of them but he is so very fun to tease. He's very easy to get a rise out of. However, whilst he started it, I vow to try my best to not be so disagreeable going forwards. I'll be working with these men for the foreseeable future, after all, so it would be best to befriend them, I'm sure.'