All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

25: Footprints

"There'll be local girls," Penkala commented with certainty. He had joined the company at Fort Benning and had quickly clicked with Malarkey and Skip, completing their mortar squad. The three were inseparable now. "There's always local girls."

"Yeah, let's just hope Sobel lets us have our weekend passes," Tab commented. "There might be locals but I wanna see what's going on in London."

Posey smiled to herself. So did she.

Their training in England turned out to be quite a bit less intense than anything they'd experienced back in the States. For the most part they were sent out traipsing around fields, platoons pitched against each other, to practise manoeuvres. They spent quite a bit of time at the rifle range, too, and, much to Posey's chagrin, a lot of time was spent on hand to hand. Even with all of the PT she'd had to endure since Toccoa, she didn't seem to be any better at it, though she hadn't since had a nosebleed anywhere near as explosive as the one she'd had back then.

Posey worked hard and earned herself an expert marksman badge, which she wore with pride and felt more honoured about than she'd expected when she received it. She had no idea when she'd become so invested in all of this playing-soldier stuff but she could scarcely remember a moment when she'd ever been prouder of herself.

Then a couple of weeks into their time in Aldbourne, Easy Company ended up in possession of the highly-coveted weekend passes.

"Our first passes should be spent in London," Tab declared the Friday night of the weekend pass. "We get the train tomorrow morning and spend the weekend in one of the world's busiest cities. What d'ya say?"

"I agree," Luz answered, rising from his place on his bunk as though to prove himself. "Heard London pubs are where it's at."

"You'll want to be going to a bar, really," Posey spoke before she could properly filter her words. When all eyes in the barracks seemed to swivel in her direction she stuttered over a messy explanation. "My mom's British and she always told me that pubs are more for, like, talkin' all casual, and bars are for meetin' people and dancin' and stuff." She could feel her cheeks burning in the aftermath of an accent which she apparently couldn't do anymore. She'd tried to overcompensate way too much and had ended up sounding closer to Popeye Wynn than Duckie Wells. She cleared her throat awkwardly and added, "That's what she said, anyway," in a much less severe accent. She prayed no one would notice.

"Makes sense," Toye said, her saving grace.

The conversation continued barrelling on and Posey caught Johnny's eye. He was watching her with an unimpressed expression which told her that he, at least, had picked up on her accent disaster. Even though she really shouldn't have, she laughed. The accent had ended up being almost comically southern and she had no idea how no one questioned it.

The following morning they all got dressed up in their dress greens, jump wings shining bright on lapels, and packed duffle bags ready to stay overnight in a hotel. The entire affair of having to pack a bag made it easier for Posey to pack up everything she'd be needing to take with her without arising suspicion. She was at the back of the group as they left the barracks and took a moment to gaze back into them, overwhelmed with nostalgia. The barracks here weren't much like the ones in America had been, but they'd still become something of a home to her. Or, rather, the people in them had. She thought that when all was said and done and when she was back sleeping in her childhood bedroom she'd miss the barracks, for all the bunks were low and the mattresses hard and the sound of so many men sleeping in one room so loud it was almost impossible to fall asleep in. Above all, she knew she'd miss the men. She'd miss being a member of Second Platoon but she was grateful that she'd gotten to be, for a little while. And she'd even earned herself a nickname in the process, which she'd actually come to be rather fond of.

She drew in a deep breath, trying to lock the barracks into her memory, before turning on her heel and rushing after the rest of her platoon where they were beginning to make their way towards the nearest train station.

She was going home. It didn't feel real.

Posey found herself squeezed in between Luz and Liebgott on the train, opposite Skip, Malarkey, and Penkala, and let herself sink into the feel of the train rumbling beneath her and the sounds of excited chatter. Lieb was going on and on about how good of a dancer he supposedly was and Luz was laughing loudly at him all the while. Posey giggled to herself. She would miss this.

Suddenly, she didn't know how she was supposed to say goodbye.

She locked eyes with Johnny, who was sat with Bull across the aisle, and he seemed to know simply from a look at her face what was going through her head. He offered her the faintest hint of a smile. She wondered whether he would tell the others what had happened once they realised she was gone for good, whether he'd tell them she'd been a girl all along. Or would he say nothing - and Roe say nothing, too, as she trusted he would because he'd promised not to tell a soul? Eventually, would all of Second Platoon, even all of Easy Company, forget she'd ever been there at all? The duck who had struggled with almost every part of PT but was a brilliant shot. Who'd been the smallest of the bunch but always insisted Perconte was the same height as her, if not smaller. Who'd been almost as loud as Luz and who had had to take a great deal of the blame for Second Platoon's barracks being so loud in the early morning. Would they really forget all of that?

For the first time in her life, Posey found herself wondering how big the mark she left on people was, how deep her footprints were. She found herself contemplating her own significance. She would miss all of these men, but would they miss her?

When the train finally pulled in at their station - King's Cross, naturally - Posey found herself beside Roe, by some miracle of fate.

"I'm going to slip out," she whispered to him as they began to file off of the train. "This way, hopefully no one will realise I'm gone. I have another train to catch, see."

Roe shook his head with a tiny, rueful smile tugging at his lips. "They'll notice you're gone, Wells."

Posey shrugged and smiled sadly. "Johnny will make my excuses, I'm sure." She glanced up to make sure they were still going unobserved at the back of the group as they walked the platform and then clasped his hand tightly. "Thank you for everything. You've been a really great friend to me." She smiled and felt the sting of tears in her eyes, though she knew they wouldn't fall. "A best friend," she corrected herself.

Roe smiled. "Take care of yourself, alright? Write to me someday or somethin'."

Posey giggled and nodded. "I will." Though they both knew she wouldn't. She didn't know his address and he was going to war. Some part of her felt guilty for that. She'd trained with these men and now they were going off to do the hard part while she'd be lounging at home. She brushed the thought away and gave Roe's hand a squeeze. "I'll miss you," she said quietly, almost hopefully.

Roe breathed a small laugh. "I'll miss you too."

"Tell Johnny goodbye for me, will you?" she asked. "And tell him I said thank you for everything, too."

"I will," Roe promised. He gave her hand a squeeze back.

Then that was it. The rest of Second Platoon made their way out onto the bustling streets of London, talking loudly and laughing even louder. She'd miss that sound.

Roe shot her a final, small smile over his shoulder before he turned the corner with the rest of them.

Then, once more, she was back to being alone.

But now, at least, she had a train to catch. A train that would lead her home. Home home. For real this time.