2Boats, Ships; Same thing
May '43
It'd been a hard slog, but we'd finally gotten our wings and were being treated to an after party after the official ceremony. Even King got a pair of wings to pin on his vest. After we got our wings, the brass granted us a 10-day furlough, before we began the rest of the training. I smiled, looking around the rec hall as I helped George behind the bar. All of my friends were laughing and joking, having fun and a lot of them looking forward to going to see their families for the first time in months, showing off their wings and uniform. Jamie were messing around with Penkala and Malark, Jamie being good friends with them, while Rich was nattering to Bill, Skip and some of the other lads. I almost felt like the neighbourhood cat; I had a million derivatives of my name and they used all of 'em; mainly Charl or Charlie, but sometimes I got Lottie or Lots; LottieDoll was an obscure favourite of mine and Bill's in particular.
They were all good guys and they were all my good friends, but I can't lie; 1st platoon were my favourites. Chuck and I were just as close as me and Richie, Tab was like one of those flirty friends your brother has and Shifty, my God, Shifty's voice was like verbal silk. Bull and Martin seemed to take me under their protective wings, normally accompanying me if George couldn't and Lip was like a big brother; he was always there for me to talk to when I didn't want to show the others that Sobel was getting to me. They and the others, especially my fellow NCOs, would defend me like a little sister, fight with me like brothers and jump to my side as best friends should and I knew I could count on every last one of them.
"Charlie! Luz!" Lip's voice called and the flash of a camera caught us almost by surprise. And then George in his infinite wisdom, decided it'd be cute to lift me up and prop me on his shoulder, his arms curled around my legs, much to my embarrassment and everyone else's amusement. "That's a better one." Lip grinned as George dropped me from his shoulder, into his arms and I rolled my eyes, but hearing the snap of a camera, I saw Lip looking smug AF.
"Put me down already!"
"When we get married, I'm going to carry you like that all day." George winked, popping me on the bum and going back to serving our friends. I smiled, shaking my head and doing the same; George was always saying shit like that, but I never thought he meant any of it. Although…it would be nice, I thought. I couldn't lie, George was gorgeous and since the day I met him, I'd been attracted to him. I loved him as a friend and I just loved him too; he was everything I could ever dream of; I just couldn't have it.
"Charl. Luz." Joe slurred, leaning on the bar. He turned around to look at Richie as he called something to him and George winked at me, mouthing watch this.
"Corporal Toye; there will be no leaning in my company." I have to admit, he had the high, nasal notes down. "Are those dusty jump wings? How do you expect to slay the Huns, with dust on your jump wings?"
I snorted, as Joe pulled George nose to nose with him and demanded he get him a drink.
"Helluvvan idea Joe. There you go." He placed a full glass of beer in front of our already drunk friend and lifted his own half full glass. "Three miles up, three miles down."
Just then someone yelled for us to come to attention and the room stopped, standing at ease as Colonel Sink spoke to us, praising how proud he was of all of his soldiers, even the woman in his regiment. The colonel's speech seemed to impress everyone and Sink left to a roomful of people laughing and cheering, the music turned higher than it had been before he started to speak.
September '43
Our training in America had come to an end and we stood in the docks of New York, being plied with coffee and donuts by the ladies of the Red Cross, so we didn't feel so miserable about having to leave for a tour of duty. Me and Richie were used to this now; we'd been on the front lines since we were old enough at 18, so we knew the feeling of being deployed, but this was for almost all of the soldiers of the regiment, as well as my Jamie's first tour of active duty. Not that we knew what was coming; well, I mean, we knew but we didn't know what it would feel like until we got there; our combat was nothing like WW2.
"Oh God, I hate boats." I grumbled, looking up at the transport ship that would be our home for the next week or so. It was going to packed to the rafters with sweaty lads and no diggidy, no doubt, that the testosterone would build up; I had a feeling that one or more of my mates might get into a bit of a mess.
"It's a ship, Ed." George pointed out, standing at my side and looking up too.
"They both go on the water, it's the same thing."
"That's why you're not in the navy, huh?" Chuck snorted, resting his hand on my beret as I looked at the troop ship.
I had an unnatural fear of being trapped in a tight space and not being able to get out. Dad watched a lot of crime and disaster documentaries on the net and of course, I watched them too, because we apparently shared a morbid curiosity there. The only problem was, any time I watched something about pot holers getting stuck, or buildings collapsing and people getting trapped in sinking ships, I went white as a sheet. I couldn't think of a more terrifying way to go; knowing I'd never see the light of day again. That's why I hated sitting in the back of the APCs or IFVs, because I figured it was a premade coffin.
"You know, I think I left something back at the camp, I'll see you later." I mumbled, turning to leave, but each one of them caught an arm and frog marched me to the front.
My head felt like it was starting to swell while everything around me seemed to close in on me. I took off my jacket, my tie and undid my shirt to the 3rd button to try and take some of the pressure off my chest and head. I closed my eyes, gripping the metal of the bunk so hard, my knuckles went white, my head pounding like all the blood was about to burst out of my ears. I looked like a total nutter, like I was having some sort of withdrawal episode.
I suddenly felt George shift, his chin resting on my shoulder, his breath in my ear sending shivers up my spine and his hand resting on top of mine, letting his fingers slip between my own.
"You ever seen the Statue of Liberty?" I shook my head. "C'mon, we're gonna go right by it; we'll see it for the first time together."
I followed him down and outside, bumping into Chuck and Hoob on the way, so the four of us stood watching the sun set over the Statue of Liberty. It was one of the best sunsets I'd ever seen, almost like the sun was in her torch; I wished I had my camera, but it was in my bag. I stepped on the bottom rung of the rail, crossing my arms on the top one, like Chuck was and let the breeze run through my hair. A thought entered my head; for how many of my friends would this be the last time that they ever saw their home country? How many would have this sunset as the last ever image of home?
Hoob passed a cigarette to me to share with George, while he shared one with Chuck and I sighed deeply, feeling an arm pull my hips to someone's side and saw George. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my head against his, relieved that he could sense I was thinking about something; at least I'd never be trapped in my own head, well, not when I wasn't thinking about him.
I let the wind whip my hair, the gentle breeze soothing my racing heart and the anxiety in my chest. The smell of the salt on the wind, reminded me of Scotland, when Granddad and I would go to visit the Isle of Skye, where he was born. We'd take a little ferry over, every summer, or when I got into the army, whenever I got the chance and spend time fishing or taking picnics at Elgol, or Staffin, or just staying for a few nights in Portree.
Sing me a song, of a lass, that is gone;
Say could that lass, be I?
Merry of soul, she sailed on a day, over the sea to Skye.
Billow and breeze, islands and seas;
Mountains of rain and sun;
All that was good, all that was fair;
All that was me is gone.
"That's kinda…" George looked at me, pausing. "Well sweetheart, you got a beautiful voice, but the songs a little sad."
"I'm Scottish; ye can tak the lassie fae Scotland, but ye cannae tak the Scottish oot the lassie. If we're not in the Highlands, we're miserable."
"You're Scottish?" Chuck asked and I nodded. "You don't sound it."
"No, well, I was born in West Kilbride, but we moved to England 'cause Dad's based in there. So, I'm Scottish, but Jamie's English. If my Great-Granddad hadn't changed his name when he signed on for the Great War, you'd have been able to tell."
George pondered on this new information. "What was that then?"
"MacanaGaskgail; changed it to Collier 'cause he worked dahn t'pit." A beat passed, as the three looked at me confused. "He was a miner; worked down't coal mine."
"That's one hell of a surname."
"I know, I liked it, but it'd never fit on a name patch." I feigned disappointment, with a sigh. "Still, Charlotte Edith MacanaGaskgail would've been a mouthful
We stayed on deck, laughing about the names our parents had considered for us (and thankfully didn't name us), until the sun finally sank beneath the deep blue waves, and the lights of New York mingled into the twinkling, inky blue sky above.
"I'm glad we're going to Europe." Joe was saying as we came back, flipping his switch blade. "Hitler gets one of these right across the windpipe, changes Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and pays me 10 grand a year for the rest of my fuckin' life."
Dream on Joe, I thought, shaking my head. George raised his thick brows, curious, but I just held a finger to my lips, listening to the others.
"What if we don't get to Europe; what if they send us to North Africa?" Smokey put forward. Well, yes, that certainly was a possibility. Most of the regular infantry had already been dispatched to the continent.
"My brother's in North Africa; says it hot." Bill piped up.
"Really? It's hot in Africa?" Malark asked, sarcasm flowing.
"Shaddap."
"What about you Charl?" I glanced up at Smokey, but the sharp pain in my head made me wince. "Any preference?"
"What's it matter to me?" I mused, closing my eyes and rubbing my head. "I'm a good little soldier who does what she's told, wherever she's sent."
"Point is; it don't matter where we go, once we get into combat, the only person you can trust, is ya self and the fella next t'ya." Bill gestured with his cig.
"Or woman!" I called. I was the only person in the regiment with tits bigger than Malark's, no way I was getting left out.
"Or woman." Bill replied, rolling his eyes. "You're so small I forget you're here sometimes." I pouted, but heard George snort. Joe piped up and said we could only trust them if they were paratroopers and while George climbed up to our bunk, speculating what we should do if that paratrooper happens to be Sobel.
"I'm gunna Winters." I nodded, rubbing my temples. "I know a good officer when I see one."
That sparked a whole new debate, on whether or not Winters would be a good officer, because Bill heard he was a Quaker. What religion quite had to do with it, I didn't know, but then again, it's always the same with people; there's something different about you, people won't like it. The army should be the one place where you're judged not on who you are, where you came from or what you did before, but how well you soldier, how well you can do your job. To be honest, that should be the same wherever you go; it can be hard being different, but you have to get along, especially if there's a job to be done. But Bill, being Bill, had no stopcock on his fucking gob, and eventually, he made a remark about Sobel being Jewish. Not the best move he's ever made. Joe Liebgott, well, he was none too pleased since he was Jewish, and it pissed me off because right now, people were being slaughtered in their millions, because they were Jewish. Bad fucking move Bill. They squared up and I sighed, asking Richie to keep hold of King until they'd stopped scrapping, while I climbed up to join George.
"Shouldn't we stop them?" He asked, leaning over to watch them fight, our friends trying to pull them apart. I shrugged, my head feeling like it was going to pop and rolled over on to my stomach, watching them too.
"It's above my pay grade." I shook my head, turning to look at him over my shoulder. I didn't realise how close together we were until I felt his chest press against my back as he sighed. This was going to be one long week, I winced.