Collaboration with @silmarilz1701
Svetlana knew how to play the game. She'd been caught in the political drama of Stalin's inner circle since birth. The only child of one of Stalin's closest friends, she grew up in the limelight, scrutinized by frie...
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"What do you want from me, Harry?"
"Just guess!"
Across from her in the officers' mess tent, Harry Welsh sat nursing a canteen of water or alcohol, which she couldn't say. Only a half dozen officers occupied the space. The rest of the tables sat empty. But she and Harry had the morning off as First Platoon sat in on a VD and Sex Ed lecture.
Sveta now found herself opposite him at a weather-stained wooden table, a bowl of rapidly cooling oatmeal her mid-morning breakfast. "What am I guessing?"
"Oh come on, Svetlana. You know."
"No, I don't." She took another bite. "Unless you want me to guess how long you have until I punch you in the face."
He just grinned at her. In recent weeks, she'd made a concerted effort to get to know Harry at least, as the two of them would be working side by side in First Platoon after they jumped. If she wanted to survive to reach home again, she had to have allies.
She liked Harry Welsh. He was straightforward, kind, had a good mind for combat. He also wasn't above mischief if he saw his opportunity. And he liked to drink. She'd been trying to get him into vodka, but quality vodka was hard to come by in England.
"The replacement officer for Third Platoon. Have you met him yet?"
Sveta shook her head. "No, I haven't."
He'd only gotten in the day before. Lieutenant Lynn "Buck" Compton. Zhanna had met him, though. Said he was tall. But all the officers were tall. Well, except for Harry.
"Guess how long it took for Guarnere to make fun of him for being college-educated?"
Sveta put down her spoon and looked up at Harry. "Five seconds flat," she sneered. "Sergeant Guarnere can't keep his mouth shut."
Harry just shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. "Yeah, well, Compton took it well. By the end of the briefing, I swear Guarnere started to like him."
"No accounting for taste," she muttered. Guarnere's name left a bad taste in her mouth. Just like the oatmeal she'd been trying to force down her throat. "Guarnere needs to learn tact."
"Tact? From a man from Philly?" Harry shook his head. "Good luck with that."
Sveta looked at him. "You've been there?"
"I'm from another part of the state," he explained. "Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Best town in P.A."
She didn't respond. Finishing up her oatmeal, she just slid the bowl a few inches away and sighed. They still didn't have a drop day. Just lots of orders to wait and see what would happen. As she went to respond, a familiar voice interrupted her.
"You two look bored," Nixon said. He wandered over through the tent, his own tray only holding a cup of coffee and some toast. As he slid in next to Harry, he just yawned. Then he dumped his flask into the coffee. "What's today's topic of conversation?"
