...my mother said...

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A month into their stay in Aldbourne, and Sveta had no more love for the enlisted than she had on the Samaria

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A month into their stay in Aldbourne, and Sveta had no more love for the enlisted than she had on the Samaria. It pained her to admit that Guarnere held the power within the platoons. Those Staff Sergeant stripes meant more to them than her Lieutenant bar. Their snide comments returned in full force, focused within the upper ranks of enlisted.

What Guarnere started, the others continued. Luz had a standing bet going on how long it would take before she shot one of them. Martin and Randleman, the only men she had developed a real rapport with, stopped talking to her. And her scolding of Guarnere had apparently mended his relationship with Liebgott, so that they worked to undermine her in tandem.

So she just stopped talking to them. Sveta had Zhanna, at least. She and Zhanna had been alone against the world for half a decade. Nothing would separate that. Nothing.

It bothered her only a little that the men had the exact opposite reaction to Zhanna. Sveta vaguely wondered if it was because she was small, and stayed quiet, and that was easier for them to stomach. Whatever the reason, the mortar squad of Malarkey, Muck, and Penkala included her more during training. They spoke to her freely, willingly.

She and Zhanna had been billeted in a small house near to the other officers of Easy Company. The Connors were an older couple with no children. Mrs. Jane Connors liked to knit and play piano. Mr. Robert Connors spent his days cycling around Aldbourne, sometimes helping with training by acting as an enemy to be captured. They hadn't objected to housing the two Russians. Even so, Sveta tried to stay out of the house as much as possible.

When Zhanna had told her that Muck had invited her to join the men at the pub that night, Sveta had been speechless. But she had nodded and smiled. And even though she'd seemed a bit concerned, Zhanna had gone with them.

"Are you going anywhere tonight?" Mrs. Connors asked.

Sveta had wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a small green apple from the counter. Her hostess sat at the table. In her hands, a copy of the local paper provided some meager entertainment. "I have a meeting," she lied.

"This late?" Mrs. Connors looked up. She placed the paper down on the red and white tablecloth. "They certainly are working you hard, my dear."

Sveta shrugged. "Wars don't win themselves."

"You don't need to tell me twice," she agreed. "It took everyone to win the Great War."

Just nodding in response, Sveta took another bite of her apple. She moved down the hall to the door. Her favorite spot to get out of the house and away from the Army was a small field not too far away. But as she went to open the door, a knock sounded.

Sveta pulled it open. To her surprise, Welsh, Nixon, and Winters stood there, just as surprised to see her answer so quickly. The officers had been her only form of contact outside of Zhanna that didn't make her want to punch a wall. She didn't like them. But she definitely liked them more than the enlisted.

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