By the time the news about Private Janovek's death had spread through the company, his lifeless body had already been brought back to base and transported to the hospital to be shipped back home to his family.
Annie had been there when the ambulance had driven up, and with Winters by her side, she watched as they pulled the replacement out of the back, his face littered with scratches and bruises and his skin pale and cold. The man had been heading back from his shift at the crossroads patrol when a barrel from a passing vehicle fell into the road, causing the driver of the jeep to swerve and crash into the ditch.
Just like Shifty, the man had survived battles and horrid conditions just to end up in a motor accident when he was so close to being free; the only difference was, he wouldn't be getting a second chance at life like Shifty was. No, instead, he would be going home in a coffin.
The enemy had surrendered, the war was over, but somehow men were still dying—all because they were stuck waiting around without enough points to go home.
As Winters had so plainly put it, disaster was bound to happen when so many men were given access to copious amounts of weapons, alcohol, and free time.
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Sitting with her feet dangling over the side of the jeep, Margot drew in a deep breath of the fresh night air and sighed happily, her eyes focused on the passing trees while her ears listened intently to the story Chuck was telling to the two younger guys in the vehicle with them.
"All of a sudden, out of nowhere, this guy jumps out of the hedgerow, shoves a trench knife up against his throat and screams 'whose side are you on?'" Chuck snickered softly, Margot following suit as the younger guys looked to each other, confusion evident on their expressions.
The man in the back beside Margot shrugged. "I don't get it."
"It's D-day." Chuck elaborated. "It's 2nd Platoon's own Bill Guarnere."
Margot smiled as she remembered fondly the first time Bill had told that story himself to her. God, she had laughed so hard the first time she had heard it. "Ol' Gonnorrhea himself," she piped up from the backseat.
Chuck nodded, keeping his eyes on the road as he maneuvered the jeep through the dark, empty streets. "Just landed in Normandy and wound up like, I don't know ... what? 'Whose side are you on?'" Chuck turned for a split second to look at Margot. "What a fucking character."
"He sure was." Margot patted Chuck on the shoulder. "Still is, actually. I can hear his snarky tone in my head when I read his letters."
"Letters?" the guy beside Margot asked.
Margot nodded. "He got his leg blown off in Bastogne."
Chuck sighed, his eyebrows furrowing as he spotted something up ahead on the road. Slowing the jeep, his eyes widened as the group of four came upon a sight they were not prepared for. Sitting on the side of the road, a jeep sat idly, its headlights still on but no one inside. Beside the vehicle, a man stood still, his body half hidden in the shadows, and at his feet, another man lay in the gravel motionless.
As Chuck stopped the jeep, Margot sat forward, her eyes glued to the body in the road. "Wait here," Chuck instructed, but Margot wasn't about to let her fellow Staff Sergeant deal with whatever was going on alone.
Jumping over the side of the jeep and falling into pace beside Chuck, the two Easy Company troopers slowly approached the man before them. As they got closer, it became apparent that the ground around the fallen man was splattered with blood, the red liquid glowing brightly under the harsh beam of the headlights. Then the second body was spotted.
YOU ARE READING
We Happy Few | Band of Brothers
Historical Fiction"Women don't belong in war" was something Margot Kessler and Antonia Winslow heard day in and day out, but never once did they let those words deter them from serving their country alongside the men. They were unbelievably strong and skilled beyond...
