73: Abyss

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The stars over Belgium blinked idly down at Posey as she made her way to Gene's foxhole. The sky was an inky black, covered largely by clouds, and the moon was nowhere to be found, but the starlight made the fresh snow on the ground sparkle. The wind was freezing and she had to wrap her arms tight around herself in an attempt to fend it off. Her ears ached and her cheeks stung with how fierce the cold was, and she sniffled as she finally came upon her destination.

"Gene?" she asked, peering down into his foxhole to check whether he was there. The medics' foxhole - that was, the foxhole Gene shared with a replacement medic who'd come to them in Mourmelon, a man named Ralph Spina - could either be completely empty or full to bursting at any given moment. Being in Bastogne was hard on all of them but no one more than the medics - they were undersupplied and overworked, and Posey wanted to check up on them.

"He's asleep," was the reply she got. Posey smiled through the darkness as Spina's face peered out from between his helmet and blanket. "But you can come in."

"Thanks," she said, and promptly hopped into the foxhole. He offered her half of his blanket, which she took gladly for she didn't have one of her own, and she shuffled around to get as comfortable as she was feasibly going to get in a freezing hole in the ground.

"How's he been?" she asked Spina once she was settled, looking over at him curiously. She didn't know him very well but she wasn't inclined to dislike him. He tended to look out for Gene, which she appreciated, acting as a sort of older brother to him. Indeed, where most of the replacements were young and fresh-faced, Spina had a wife and a child waiting for him back home. He lacked any of the youthful foolishness which generally made the replacements difficult to bear. He was also from Philadelphia, which made her want to like him straight off the bat. She may have had a soft spot for men from Philadelphia, upon reflection.

"Alright, I think," replied Spina with a small shrug. "As alright as he can be. He works himself too hard, tries to do too much. Been tryna get him to stop."

Posey nodded. "Well, you're doing the Lord's work if you're successful."

Spina snorted a laugh. "Right. I'll remember that next time he's bein' difficult."

"How are you doing for supplies?" she wondered, turning her eyes on the sky. The clouds were getting increasingly grey the further they pushed in on them. They were about to get more snow.

"Fuckin' terrible," said Spina, not unkindly, just with an appropriate level of contempt for whoever was responsible for supplying them. "We ain't got no supplies. We're gonna have to start scroungin' from aid kits if we don't get more stuff soon."

Posey sighed. "We're low on ammo, too. It's all good and well for the brass to have us sitting here with our guns aimed at the krauts but I don't know what the hell they expect us to be shooting when we get a barrage."

"Yeah," Spina agreed with a grimace. "Long as we hold the line."

Posey pulled a face. That was how it was. "Long as we hold the line," she repeated, nodding.

"Wells?" Gene asked suddenly, his voice groggy as he struggled to sit up straighter.

Posey smiled softly as she watched him blink away his lethargy. "Hi, Gene. How are you doing?"

"I'm alright. Are you hurt?"

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. "No, I'm okay. I just wanted to come see how you are."

"Oh." He looked genuinely surprised which made her heart pang; she hadn't been nearly as good a friend to him as he had been to her. "Is there anything I can do for you? For either of you?" She looked between him and Spina, expectant as she awaited a response. "I just want to make it a little bit easier for you, if I can. I know how shitty it is for you out here."

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