Rumors of War (A Band of Brothers Story)

3: Countryside

I knew their enthusiasm would fade quickly enough; they'd receive their violent education.

Abruptly, I'm thrown from the bench sideways. I reacted like I was back in the jungle; out of reaction I grab my musette bag, holding it close to my chest. I barely caught myself in time to save from smashing my head open, sacrificing my cigarette to the truck floor. When the truck came to a complete stop, I could feel my heart in my throat and my temples pounding.

"What the hell was that?!"

"Sorry! There's another accident up ahead, Sergeant." The reply was muffled, coming from the front cab. "Looks like it'll be awhile."

Across from me, the now disheveled Sgt Dixon huffed, straightening her jacket and smoothing back her hair.

"This is the third one this week," she commented as she hunched over to stand. "It makes me wonder if anyone bothers to learn how to drive anymore."

Ain't that the truth.

"So, what does this mean for me? Aren't we on a schedule?"

Sgt. Dixon shrugged. "You're going to be a wee late, I'm afraid."

She didn't sound very sorry though, so when she began to climb out the back of the truck, I followed. Thankfully my headache had lessened by then, so the bright sun on the English countryside didn't really take me by surprise (though I had a feeling my sunglasses helped me out). Walking around to the front of the front, I could see exactly what the WAC Private driving had mean by saying we'd be stuck for awhile.

There were at least five or so jeeps and military vehicles in front of us, a long with some mess of tangled jeeps in front of that. Two R.A.F. ambulances were on each side of the road, and countless personnel were milling around with notebooks and camera, documenting the accident for the military red tape.

That's the US military, so goddamn thorough.

Turning on my heel back towards the two chatting WACs, I could see the back up starting to form behind our transport. It wasn't too hard to make my decision.

"How far are we from Aldbourne, from the Littlecote House?" I questioned, grabbing to two women's attention.

The driver, the Private, gave a gentle shrug from where she leaned out the window. "About twenty-minutes or so North of here, just down the way."

Sgt. Dixon lifted an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well," I drawl, adjusting my musette bag, "I can walk there, right? That's not far."

At my words, the two women looked at me like I'd grown a second head—not a reaction that I'm unused to—and almost immediately Sergeant Dixon blew up. The Private, on the other hand, could only sputter from her window.

"You just can't do that!" She commanded. "The village is over three miles away, and that time is for driving. You just can't wander off on your own because you're a bit impatient."

I rolled my eyes, and any socially acceptable part of my manners, and personality, seemed to evaporate into smoke.

"I'm pretty certain I can, actually." I snapped, adjusting my bag. "Sorry that I'm not someone who wants to be late for a meeting with the commanding officer of an entire goddamn regiment."

"But you can't—"

"Yea, I can. I ain't military." I don't bother to hold back my sneer, as my natural accent leaked in. "If anyone asks, just tell'em I ditched you."

With that, I turned and began stalking off. I didn't bother saying anything else to the two WACs, even when I heard them kicking up a fuss. They gave up quick enough once I'd put two jeeps between us, and I knew they'd mark me down that I'd been safely delivered, all good and proper. It wasn't as if I could get that lost, especially if the village was right down the way, however far it may be. Even if I did, I'd risk getting lost on my own, with no threat of running into the enemy, and try to be on time to meet the unknown Colonel Sink than be late.