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~Chapter Eleven: Day of Days~
They brought them into a tent with a projector and a screen made of millions of pieces of glass. No questions were answered. They were herded like confused cattle without many words spoken. Essie could not keep her focus on the romantic, teasing words of the handsome actors. She ran her fingers under the webbing of her suspenders, her mind racing. Bull Randleman sat next to her. His chest rose and fell in her peripheral vision. He was a beast of a man and she prayed he would always be in the same foxhole as her.
She leaned back, her tailbone resting on the edge of the metal chair. Rain hit on the canvas above, and white and gray beams dances along the folds of the walls. She could see her eyelashes in the glow of the colorless movie, so she concentrated on how they moved when she quietly asked them to. She thought about how she could die in 24 hours, how immense pain was certainly headed her way, and her feelings for Talbert.
She did not love the man, at the time it was much too strong of a word. But her chest did flutter and constrict simultaneously when the thought of him crossed her mind. She liked how their conversations glided, she liked his endless grey eyes and how he drew his fingers against his lower lip when he was deep in thought. She liked how he did so when she was with him, it was a compliment of sorts.
The projector lulled into silence and the movie died. There was the finale of a kiss, and circle of embrace fading into black and the room stirred. Their temporary distraction had passed. Esther drummed her fingers across all of her pockets in search for her pack.
She gave a quick nod for a farewell to Bull who was then standing before she stood to exit the tent. Her sleeves were rolled up, and the cool sea breeze met her bare skin. Through the flame of her lighter, she saw Winters and Nixon sitting and talking. Winters did not take his eyes from the clouded sky while Nixon smirked around the rounded end of his Lucky. They were quite the pair.
Nixon caught her staring and gave her a quick wink before she darted her eyes up and towards where stars would usually be.
A shadow of a man took a step in front of her and removed his garrison cap.
"Evening, Esther."
Her heart dashed as she immediately recognized the voice of Floyd Talbert. The sun was setting behind him, causing the clouds that blocked it to make a sort of blur around his frame.
She exhaled, "This is bullshit." Esther was never one to speak with grace.
"Yea, I was hoping to get it over with too." He turned nervously on his heel, turning his attention to the socked in sky they were all so angry with.
Essie shrugged before taking a draw, "Fate, I guess. Do you believe in destiny- hey, want a smoke?"
Floyd's eyes widened a bit, not sure which question to answer first. "Sure, to both- mostly to the second."
Essie smirked and gave him a sideways glance; trying to suppress the tinge of happiness she felt standing with him. Nixon continued to puff on cancer and stare while Winters paced.
"Tomorrow," she sucked down the last of the tobacco before lighting another. Stress smoking was a constant. "Tomorrow, surely. They can't keep us waiting."
Tab tugged on his lip in between draws. "Yeah…" he agreed quietly before taking in a gulp of clean air. "Hey, Essie… say, I've got something for you before we do jump tomorrow."
He turned and suddenly got closer to her. She saw Nixon still watching them closely over Tab's shoulder. Her attention returned to him when she heard the rattle of dog tags. He unbuttoned the top of his olive drag shirt and pulled out the identification necklace.
"I thought, just maybe… I'd like you to carry a part of me tomorrow night when we do jump. It's ridiculous, probably…"
She stopped his speech when she reached for her own set. They looked into each other's eyes as they took the stamped metal from their necks. "I'll keep the toe tag," he said with a sad smile. "Never know- I might need it."
Essie's heart dropped and she flung her head back to look up at him, "Goddamn it, don't say that."
He shrugged, still with a sad smile that reached out to her.
"We'll meet up in the drop zone," she drew her hands along his chest, eyeing her name and blood type now hanging above his own. She had said it with utter certainty, but it felt like a lie… a lie that made her sick. "We'll all make it."
Her blood type was B Negative, his was O Positive.
B.o.B.
Talbert shook Essie's whole body as he checked her gear for the fifth time in the past hour. She looked up with a grimacing expression to find even Bull struggling to move. She was a small 120 pound girl, and even though Sobel had transformed her to muscle, she could barely stand against all the weight covering her body. Talbert bent down to check her leg bag, even though it wasn't necessary to do so. He trailed his hand up her leg and up to her back. The simple touch had caused a shiver to go down her aching back. She bent her neck slightly, waiting for him to press up against her. He walked away, leaving the touch to hang unfinished around her.
She turned to find Bill and Johnny Martin talking, Bill's under bite protruding in anger but his eyes wept. Esther took a step towards Guarnere as he walked away to his plane, but was interrupted.
"Second platoon… Listen up," Winters called them over, twisting the jump gloves he was holding. Eugene helped her to sit down, and she immediately felt better as pressure was released and fell to the gritty ground.
"Doc Roe is handing out motion sickness pills. Take one now and another after 30 minutes in the air." As Doc Roe handed her the familiar small brown box, she mustered a grin and she got a rare one back. He placed a supportive hand on her back as he made his way to the next man in line.
"… Good luck. God bless you. I willsee you in the assembly area." He gave a final and quick overall nod. Winters bent down and grasped the hand of every man waiting. Esther's heart swelled; Sobel would never do such a measureable thing. Once to her, he nodded his head and pierced a blue glance towards her swelled hazel eyes. She groaned at the strength of his uplift against the weight of gravity.
Liebgott and Grant waited behind her as she struggled up the small ladder. Her heart pounded ferociously while her eyes slipped. She stumbled on the last step and hit her face against the side of the door. She felt blood begin to run down her flushed cheek and into the corner of her mouth. The pills were beginning to take their toll on her small body. Seeing her struggle, Joe and Chuck pushed her up and into the carrier. She sat down on the bench, first with her hands for balance and leaned her head against the siding of the now rumbling plane.
Joe Liebgott nearly fell onto the bench seat, "Goddamn, Lieb."
"Those air sickness pills are making me loopy."
Esther's head seemed to spin around in her unfastened helmet. Talbert struggled his way over to sit by her. Her eyes grew heavy as she looked over at Floyd. He cupped his clammy hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze before removing it. He took the braid resting along her neck with his hands and ran his fingers along it silently. He then leaned back against the riveted steel and closed his eyes. With a final glance around the C-47 shell filled with men, she saw Nixon's dark eyes looking over his map at her. His stare was always holding. The tug of sleep washed over her, and she was thankful a calm darkness came before the plane began moving.
With a deafening sound, a flock of C-47's carrying hundreds and hundreds of men loomed over the airfield. They disappeared due East, into the now clear orange sunset. Tonight was the night of nights- tonight was the greatest ambush in history.
"Sergeant, wake up! It's time!" Penkala gently slapped her face but quickly drew back when he saw her blood glistening in glow of the red light. After sleeping over the English Channel, her mind was so clear she could feel a refreshing gust through her thoughts. She had trained for this, everything had been for this.
Talbert was still sitting beside her. He tapped a Lucky against his lighter, packing it.
"For you, when I see you down there."
Essie smirked in reply.
The red light continued to linger as it silhouetted Winters' narrow face. "Get ready!" He shouted above the terrible roar of the engines. "Stand up!"
A terrible wave of nausea washed over her as she got to her feet. Floyd was in front of her and Grant directly behind. Floyd looked back hard into her glowing red face. She kept shaking her head, trying to relieve the stomach pain and to bring herself into the moment when she fell out of it
"Hook up!" Dick's voice rang throughout the plane. Those two words were all she needed. They brought her back to this extreme reality; the simple one syllable words made her become still and serious. Essie then realized that Grant was checking her equipment. After he patted her shoulder, she shouted, "7 OKAY!"
Floyd's usually patient shoulders heaved in anticipation as she tugged on his equipment. She cupped her hands over the shoulder section of his jump harness and gave him a squeeze. She blinked rapidly as each paratrooper called out their number. The plane was going much too fast.
Talbert disappeared before her without a final word and she had to swallow down the bile rising in her throat. Essie glanced over at Winters and he gave her a reassuring nod. The light quickly flashed on and she flung herself down into the gunfire lit abyss.
She couldn't see anything but bright flashes of tracers speeding towards her.Essie wasn't able to make out anybody and she looked out to find hundreds of small white parachutes gliding down to the earth. Within a quick moment she remembered when her and Dixie would climb up to the roof and drop little planes into the dirt. Essie began to smile when she thought about Dixie. She smiled out of sheer fear as she freely plummeted towards the ground. Now with all the extra equipment, gravity was far less forgiving as it had been in training. A tree was enclosed in a burning inferno nearby as she met the ground with a splash.
Musty smelling water quickly soaked her trousers and repelled off her boots. She knew the sound of her movement in the water would draw attention, so she quickly found higher ground. No familiar men of Easy Company were around her. She knew the plane was moving much too fast. She was completely alone to watch as the C-47 she had just jumped from become more of an escape as it dived to the ground as an orb of fire.
The men had been spread around because the timing of the drop was not perfect. Essie now in awe of her realization became ripping off her chute and other gear she did not think was important. Absent of a soldier's mind, she stood up and was nearly mowed down by some nearby Germans. She threw herself to the ground and got a mouthful of the fine dirt beneath her. After a period of time she crawled over to a gathering of bushes and tried to collect herself. Unwanted tears began to form in the corners of her dusty and smeared painted face. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she began to grasp the terrifying fact that she was lost and separated.
Panting loudly with fear and exhaustion, Essie hadn't noticed the sound of cracking twigs coming nearer to her. Once she had caught her breath, the shadow was right above her, rustling the branches in search of the source of the winded and uneven breathing.
"Thunder!" she called with a false sense of hope.
A single shot sounded closer than the rest and burst from the end of a foreign enemy's weapon. The first shot missed. Before she could yank out her side arm, the Nazi dressed in grey shot again, this time he was successful. The searing bullet ripped through all layers of her clothing and embedded itself into the trembling flesh of her thigh.
Though her first reaction was to use flight rather than fight, her pistol still whipped out in front of her still bleeding face. In an instant of instinct, the German soldier's heavy body thudded against the muddy earth.
Her heart rate was so fast it seemed to stop beating at all. Essie took a weakened step forward and looked into the stone cold eyes of the man whose life she had just ended. He had a square jaw, deep eyes and a straight nose. Forever would those grey eyes infiltrate the vision of her own. His chest failed to rise and fall as blood gushed from his head and between those grey eyes. She bent down and rummaged through his pockets. Inside she found a bandage and a folded scrap of paper. The edges of the photograph were worn, as were Esther's nerves. The soldier had a sweetheart and a small child.
A ping of guilt washed through her before her new wound demanded her attention as it burned deeper, so she tossed the photograph into the mud without a second thought. She kept the bandage. The pain was so intense; she clenched her teeth trying to suffocate the wail of pain. Her hands flew to the now oozing crater in her thigh, tossing her handgun to the side. Essie wracked her brain to remember what to do. She was in so much shock she couldn't remember any medical advice Eugene had given her or anything else helpful.
"I have to keep moving," She panted to herself. She stood to move on, but instantly fell back with a broken cry.
Out of her pocket she yanked an olive drab hanky. It barely fit around her swollen thigh. Over this she wrapped the German bandage, still warm from being kept in his breast pocket. She tied it off with great strength, as an attempt to numb the pain. Feverishly, Essie limped off into the damp and looming forest. The pain was becoming too much, and she was certain she would pass out if she attempted another step. She leaned heavily against a sappy tree and slid her way down the truck, wincing.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Her helmet clinked against the wood. Esther began to think about the men of Easy Company. Where were they and were they in a similar condition as she was?
The sun cracked through the edge of the horizon, forcing Essie's eyes to squint open. She tried to move but was shot down with the familiar profound pain. She squeezed her eyes tightly, tears threatening. Essie attempted to open her eyes again, this time to look around herself, and get the slightest idea of where she was. She looked down at the leg she was holding and noticed blood pooling in the bed of pine needles. The ripped pant leg was soaked with crimson from the belt down to the shin. She had lost a profuse amount of blood. Without warning, darkness engulfed her consciousness again.
Moments later she realized she was still in the same spot, and had fallen asleep against the tree trunk. Still, nobody had found her that night in Normandy, France.
Essie's eyes felt heavy and she fought the constant urge to sleep again. She knew if her body shut down, it meant certain death. She looked out, trying to distract herself from the blood and pain. She noticed a figure walking around the edge of a pond. He was silhouetted by the rising sun and he bent down to do something. She sat there motionless, waiting for her eyes to focus. It was an American. German uniforms were sleek and figure fitting, while the paratrooper ones were bulky and not as fitted. Essie tried with all her might to speak. Her lips cracked as she parted them, and the only noise that came from them was a sickening croak. The figure stood up, and drops of the water falling from his face were illuminated by the bright young sun. It defined his black as night hair, and his square painted face.
Esther could now make him out to be Lewis Nixon.
Hope coursed through her, so she tried to scream once more. This jolted her body sending a wave of pain through her. She groaned but then remembered the small clicker she had tucked away in her pocket. She clicked it continuously, doing everything in her power to grasp his attention. She hastily ripped off her and Talbert's dog tags and waved them around in the air, causing a jingle. Still, she was unsuccessful in capturing his attention. The swinging and harsh movements had completely emptied her of the little energy she had. Finally, before her eyes shut for the last time, she screamed with a draining effort. Even though the noise had forced small blackbirds to fly off, the ugly sound she had made didn't even faze her comrade. The sudden sounds of frantic wings escaping finally brought his eyes from the water below him.
He saw her small frame crumpled on the ground, and he instantly tore through the tall weeds and standing water. Drained of blood, courage and energy, she had passed out once again. Nixon cupped her small face in his damp hands and gently shook her.
"Esther! Esther, wake up!" Another extreme wave of pain shot through her leg and she was forced to open her eyes. He was breathing hard into her face, and once he had noticed a flash of life in her eyes, he began to cut off her pant leg.
He embarked on tending to the open wound without any words, tenderly dabbing the still burning wound. She gathered the remainder of her courage in her abdomen and clutched his coat, screaming in agony. He ripped open a packet of sulfur and dusted it across the gaping hole.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Nix! Easy!" Seconds after she wailed, he pulled a syrette from a small box in his Aid kit, and jabbed it into her opposite thigh. Instantly she felt better, so she fell back flat and her breathing returned to a nearly normal pace.
"Hey, it's not that bad," he reassured her as tears of pain formed on the rims of her eyes.
"Yeah, you should see the guy who did this."
"C'mon. Let's get you out of here… you need a proper medic. "Nixon looked down at her as he fastened the syrette on her chest, to indicate to the medics she already has morphine coursing through her body.
He went to her other, less bloody side and picked her up with one arm. The other quickly snagged her helmet, and he placed it atop her head with a nervous and tight smile. "Don't you dare die… too big of a goddamn waste."
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