Disclaimer: Just for fun and not at all a way to discredit what the men of Easy Company fought for. The concept of these stories are fictional.
Ongoing
I'll take any requests :)
(Willing to write about The pacific as well!)
All gifs are from tumblr
It had been 5 years since the Second World War ended. 5 years since you saw Richard Winters. You had fallen in love with him, but could not act on it due to the no fraternization rule that you promised yourself you would follow when you decided to join the Airborne.
You were never quite sure if the feeling was mutual. Dick would give hints here or there but it was never a topic of conversation. He was too professional to speak his feelings to a fellow officer, no matter how badly he wanted to.
The last thing he promised to you was a dance once the war was over. Though the opportunity was abruptly taken away when you were hit by a ricochet and were transported back to the states for proper treatment. You never really got to say a proper goodbye to Dick.
You wished you would've kept in touch. The thought of him crept up in the back of your mind often after the war. Would you ever see him again? Would he move on and marry? Endless questions that could never be answered without communicating with him.
You received a letter in the mail.
"Easy Company 506 PIR 101st Airborne Reunion." It read.
Your eyes lit up at the sight. Though you tried to put the war behind you and move on with your life, you missed your comrades dearly.
You missed sitting in a foxhole with George Luz exchanging jokes and forgetting about the cold forest above you.
You missed Joe Leibgott brushing your hair (or "female locks" as he called it) to practice his barbering skills on a woman.
You missed playing darts with Buck Compton on a weekend pass in Holland.
You missed watching movies with Carwood Lipton and Joe Toye, only to have George Luz spoil the ending before it was over.
And of course, you missed distracting Major Winters while he was trying to type reports in his den. This became sort of a nightly ritual for a period of time. After awhile his hands would just lay on the typewriter, not typing a word for hours because he was too invested in your conversation. It was where you truly bonded. He hated those reports anyways.
When you looked back, all you saw were the positives really. It was at night in the dark, staring up at your ceiling, that the bad thoughts crept in. The lives you took. The men you lost.
