"In times of war, you do what you must, become what you must. Some embrace it, some try to resist it, and others abuse it. I am guilty of all three."
Virginia Carroll has been fighting her whole life, against herself and against what she is drawn to...
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Nixon's foxhole was on the border of Easy's staked-out positions and the dug-in platoons of Fox Company on the left flank, towards the rear. His figure, hunched and still, appeared to be sleeping. Around him, the other officers were snoring softly, buried into their pits of mud with the tops of their heads visible.
The sky had lightened, the gray overcast clouds had remained, casting the field and the damp grass with a lavender hue that provided ample shadows for skulking and silent movement. Or so I had thought.
My plan had been formed in the black of the night, between the chorus of Germans and the snores of Bull rumbling beside me. I hadn't slept a wink but there wasn't room for a tired bone in my body.
"You're up early," Nixon's voice, though whispered, sounded deafening in the hours before dawn.
Shit.
I froze, like a panicked animal in the beam of a headlight but the damage was done.
"Shh," I hissed. I could handle Nixon's presence but if the redhead beside him awoke, I wouldn't be able to convince him that I was following orders.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?" Nixon said, putting on a face of mock sadness. If only I would leave him. He'd likely prefer it.
"I can't leave, can I?" I said. I was stuck with Easy Company, tied to their platoons until the invasion had seen its course. That could be days or weeks. Maybe even months. For the foreseeable future, I'd be an honorary member of the Airborne without any jump experience.
"I'm afraid deserters are still shot," Nixon ran a hand through his dark hair before replacing his helmet on his head. "I'm not much of a rifleman but I can do my part."
"You're joking," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure.
"I wish I was," Nixon said. "You are too valuable to left wandering around France, or were you lying to me this whole time?"
"I wouldn't dream of it," I lied.
He waved me to his foxhole and my feet did as they were told. Betrayal.
I knelt beside him, lowering my voice to keep from waking his companion.
"You know," Nixon said, conversationally. "You can follow orders. It won't make you any less of a spy."
I scoffed, out of annoyance that he was right rather than any disbelief.
"I'm serious," Nixon said. "See this as an opportunity to save lives from within the group. Not everything has to be done ten steps ahead and two years before."
"That's not-"
"What? That's not how spies work?" Nixon said. "What do you know about espionage but what's been taught to you? They don't have to know who you are but they can know that you will fight with them, for them. The men need that. You need that."
