We Happy Few | Band of Brothers

Chapter 9: Jump Wings

With Lieutenant Winters' promotion, Captain Sobel had decided to make the red-haired man mess officer for two weeks, effectively putting him in charge of everything the men and women of the company ate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Originally, it didn't seem as though this change would really effect the day-to-day workings of the camp, but when Margot, Annie, and the men saw that spaghetti was on the menu for lunch one day, they were over the moon. It had been weeks since they had eaten something with a real name. 

Since it was supposed to rain and all the training exercises had been cancelled, the company had a light afternoon of lecture and classroom instruction. Thus, Winters had thought nothing about the fact that Sobel had suggested a special meal for Easy Company. He assumed that the man, for once in his life, had decided to take it easy on the trainees. Oh, how wrong he was. 

With a plate piled high with spaghetti, or what was supposed to be spaghetti, Margot took a seat at the end of the table next to Joe Liebgott. Looking around her at the men who were practically shoveling the food into their mouths, she chuckled slightly before digging into her own lunch.

Annie, however, was too excited to be a part of the group to even think about eating. Listening intently to every little thing the men around her said, she enjoyed the fact that they weren't picking on her for once. 

"This stuff is orange," one of the men that neither Margot nor Annie knew very well spoke up. Noodles dangled from his fork as he inspected them. "Spaghetti ain't supposed to be orange."

"This ain't spaghetti," Perconte said with a mouth full of the food. "This is army noodles with ketchup."

Margot, who had nearly packed away half of her serving by then, turned to him. "Still better than that grey slop they gave us last week."

"She's right." Guarnere agreed with the tall girl as he sat down beside Frank. "You ain't gotta eat it."

"Oh, come on, Gonorrhea." Perconte used the less-than-flattering nickname for his friend. "As a fellow Italian, you should know that calling this crap spaghetti is a mortal sin."

As the prideful Italian finished his spiel, a hand appeared over his shoulder and began grabbing for his plate. "You don't want it, I'll have it," the voice that belonged to the hand stated.

Gripping his plate hard with two hands as if he were going to starve if he didn't eat the food in front of him, Perconte used his shoulder to push the other man away. "No, no, no, I'm eating here."

Margot was just about to ask Perconte about where he thought served the best spaghetti, but before she could even part her lips to form a word, a loud, shrill whistle sounded through the mess hall. "Orders changed, get up!" Sobel stomped down the middle aisle between the two rows of tables as the company rose to their feet. "Lectures are cancelled. Easy Company is running up Currahee. Move, move!"

Looking down at her empty plate, Margot already began to feel uneasy. "Three miles up, three miles down!" Sobel shouted at the top of his lungs. "Hi-ho, silver!"

This was going to be a disaster. 

●●● 

Just as predicted, the Currahee run was a disgusting affair and the company hadn't even made it halfway to the top yet. With orange stains on the fronts of their white PT shirts, many men had started throwing back up the lunch they hadn't even had the time to digest yet. 

"You're a washout, Private Hoobler!" Sobel called to the man who had just finished puking. "You should pack up those ears and go home!"

One by one, Sobel made his way through the company, shouting insults at anyone who looked even the least bit sick to their stomachs. "Private Randleman, you look tired," Sobel commented as he jogged happily along beside the larger man. "There's an ambulance waiting for you at the bottom of the hill. It can all be over right now. No more pain, no more Currahee. No more Captain Sobel."