"Guarnere!" shouted Compton. Guarnere's head shot up and Posey let out an inaudible sigh of relief; Compton's timing had never been so spot on. "Get over here."
"Alright, Buck. I'm comin'," Guarnere replied. He shot a glance back down at Posey and huffed. "I'll fuckin' find out what you're hidin', Wells. Don't think I won't."
"Okay," she replied, and smiled smugly as she watched him leave. As soon as he was over with Compton she let herself sag back to the floor and breathe. She had just experienced combat for the first time, and been shot, and almost had her secret busted by Guarnere, of all people. What she needed to do was rest and let it all sink in, especially as she could already hear some of the other enlisted talking about a potential German counterattack. Whilst yesterday had been all monotony, today was turning out to be anything but.
After a while of lying on the ground and contemplating the events of the day, Posey forced herself to sit back up again. She stared down at her hands, covered in her own blood and sticky with it, too, before planting them to push herself to her feet. She groaned through gritted teeth through all of her many attempts to do so before finally making it standing. Following a hobbling man towards where she assumed the aid station had now been moved - somewhere more convenient now that the Germans had retreated - she made her way back into Carentan.
When she made it to the aid station, she found Roe tending to Winters' leg. Internally, she grimaced; if they had to go without Winters during this supposed counterattack they'd be doomed. Still, she hid those sentiments and offered a small smile and an inclined head. "Sir."
"Wells," Winters greeted back. "You get hit?"
"Uh -"
"Just shrapnel, like you," Roe cut in, addressing Winters. Eugene Roe really was an angel.
Posey nodded. "I'm good to stay on the line, sir. Roe's patched me up already." She turned her attention to the man in question. "I was just looking for some water to get the blood off my hands - what are the chances this place has running water?"
Even though she'd been speaking to Roe, Winters answered her through a low chuckle. "Slim to none, I'd say. Might be worth a try."
Posey nodded. "Right. I will. Thank you, sir."
Winters only nodded, his attention now back on where Roe was cleaning his wound. Posey took that as her cue to leave and headed towards where she thought she might find a tap. On her way she passed Blithe, a man from First she'd spoken to on occasion. He was sat by the door, his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes vacant as they stared straight ahead of him.
Posey's step faltered. She watched him warily for a few moments before asking tentatively, "You okay, Blithe?" She kept her distance but tried to sound as reassuring as possible.
Blithe nodded but didn't move his eyes. "Yeah," he replied dazedly, almost dreamily - though perhaps that was just his soft southern drawl. "Yeah, I'm alright," he added after a considerable pause. Posey waited for him to elaborate but he never did.
After a few beats she spoke again. "Well, okay." She fiddled with her hands and then clasped them behind her back. "I'll see you later." Blithe didn't make to reply, or make any indication that he'd heard her at all, so she turned and continued her search for water.
As she scoured the building, she wondered whether Blithe might be suffering from shell shock. He didn't seem to have any physical injuries - certainly she hadn't seen any blood on him, and Roe had obviously known he was there, so he couldn't have been desperately in trouble regardless. But there was definitely something off about him; in training he'd always been a bit dreamy but never much more so than Posey was herself. Now, he looked to be in a different place entirely. He was away with the fairies, as her father had used to say. If that really was shell shock, she understood why her brother had been so harsh with his warnings about the horrors of war. She couldn't imagine anyone being able to function in combat in such a state.
The building the aid station had been set up in didn't appear to have any taps, so she moved onto the next, then the next, then the next, until she found one. The water pressure was terrible - and, indeed, so was the water, which in itself smelt quite foul - but it got the majority of the blood off of her hands. The rest she attempted to wipe off on her ODs, which was a losing battle because they, too, were caked in blood.
She came wandering out of the shop keenly aware of the pain in her side. Angry flames tore at her skin, sharp daggers that wrenched her open. Her vision swam and her head spun. The world tilted around her. She thought she must have been swaying and braced herself on the wall of the shop. The skin on her palm dragged down the brick as she lowered herself slowly to the ground, only vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps and someone saying her last name.
She didn't know when she'd closed her eyes but she opened them when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The dizziness had subsided somewhat but the pain lingered. The hand squeezed her shoulder and she looked up to find Guarnere.
"You gotta tell me why you ain't gonna go to a fuckin' hospital, Wells. As your platoon sergeant and your squad leader, I gotta know."
Posey rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Don't pull rank on me."
Guarnere scoffed. "Wells."
"I think I need more morphine."
He shook his head immediately. "Ain't been long enough yet. I'll tell ya when you can have more. It hurt a lot?" Posey nodded. "Then tell me why you can't go to a hospital."
Posey dropped her head into her hands, her elbows propped up on her knees. She fiddled with the rim of her helmet before removing it and rubbing at her temples. What to do, what to do, what to do.
When she lifted her head again, Guarnere had his eyebrows furrowed deeply and his jaw clenched. Posey chewed on her bottom lip before saying softly, "If I tell you you can't tell anyone. Okay? Not a single soul. No one can know."
Guarnere nodded. "Alright."
"No, I mean it," she implored. "If the wrong person finds out I could be shot. It's serious."
"Wells..."
"I know it sounds like I'm being dramatic but I'm not. You have to promise not to tell."
"Fine, I promise."
Posey nodded and took a deep breath. She drew her eyes away from his, escaping the intensity of his gaze, and watched her hands where they fiddled in her lap. Subconsciously, she reached down to claw at the ground but her fingertips only scratched at concrete, so she lifted a hand to check for Teddy and only once she felt him pressed close to her chest did she admit, "I'm a woman."
"What?"
"I'm a woman," she repeated, still not daring to look at him. "A girl. A female. I don't know, a broad, a dame, a lady. Or at least I used to be a lady. Are you understanding?" When he didn't reply she mustered all of the courage she could find within herself and looked at him. When she did, she found him watching her closely, as though attempting to gauge for himself whether she was telling the truth, but there was something unsettled on his face. He looked almost... aghast. "Bill?" she prompted.
"This whole time?" was the first thing he said. He shook his head and then removed his helmet to run a hand through his hair. "Fuck. You're shittin' me. You're really a broad?"
"Yes." She felt defensive about this fact all of a sudden. None of the others had been so slow to believe her. "You've been saying I look like a girl, laugh like a girl, talk like a girl, whatever, for two years, and now I'm telling you that that's because I am a girl and you don't believe me?"
Guarnere's face fell even further. "Ah, fuck. All this time... all the shi- stuff I've said to you. I been -" He cut himself off as horror filled his eyes. "My ma is gonna kill me."
"Your 'ma' isn't going to find out, remember?" Posey reminded, trying desperately to follow what he was saying and ensure his discretion. "No one can know. Not a single soul."
Guarnere went on as though uninterrupted. "All this time I been arguin' with a broad?"
Posey scoffed. "A broad who can dish it out just as well as she can receive it, thank you very much. Don't go all soft on me now just because I'm a woman. I've been a woman this whole time and you didn't care."
"'Cause I didn't know!" He ran another hand through his hair and shook his head. "Just so you know, that ain't how I'd usually treat a lady. My ma raised me better than that."
This was certainly unexpected.
"Right..." Posey's eyebrows were furrowed and her lips turned down at the sides, her perplexity written plainly on her face. When she was sure he wasn't going to continue his 'I respect women' speech, she shook her own head and went on, "Well, anyway. Just don't tell anyone, okay? No one. Not Toye, or your family back home in any letters, or anyone. No one. Understand? 'Cause I know we don't really get along but I'd hope you don't want me dead. I mean, I don't want you dead and you're a proper pain in the arse."
Guarnere barked a laugh. Finally, he seemed to be comprehending. "You're one fuckin' crazy broad, you know that?"
Posey chuckled under her breath. "I've been told a few times."
"And you're actually British?"
She sighed. She supposed it was time to unveil her sob story once more. It never did seem to get easier. "Yes," she began, keeping her voice as even as possible. Guarnere had already seen her cry once and the memory of it still kept her awake at night. So embarrassing. "I was evacuated to America during the Blitz but my brother was in the RAF and my mum was still back in London so I joined the army to get home quicker. Then obviously I already told you that my mum died - bombed along with my home - and my brother's wounded so he can't be a pilot anymore, so I didn't really have any choice but to stay with the company."
Guarnere looked a little bit melancholy; sad and pensive, none of his earlier good humour was present anymore. Posey hardly knew why, for he'd already known the saddest parts of her story - indeed, he was the first to find out.
He looked like he was going to say something, a word of explanation perhaps, before he clamped his mouth closed once more and shook his head. He wiped his expression clean and was once more the stone-faced, generally unimpressed sergeant who believed wholeheartedly in his own importance. As the days went by, however, Posey was starting to think that this wasn't his default setting. The image he tried to portray had cracks in it, cracks she'd seen twice now - first when he'd found her crying, and second right now, when he was finding out her biggest secret. She smiled to herself to think that deep down he was a softie, really, who cared about things like the names of teddy bears and what his mother thought of his behaviour. Perhaps he wasn't all bad.
"I won't tell," he spoke into the pause that had followed her explanation. He was staring straight ahead, very serious now. "Does anyone else know?"
"Johnny, Roe, and Nixon."
"Nixon?!" Guarnere exclaimed before Posey shushed him. In a lower voice, he accused, "You told Nixon?!"
"I didn't tell him," Posey defended. "He worked it out! He's an intelligence officer, he knows things. Fucking cornered me in Aldbourne and asked me why I was still here. All but soiled myself when he did."
Guarnere barked a laugh and, after a moment, Posey laughed too. Then she shook her head. "I didn't tell any of them willingly. Johnny found me sneaking to the bathrooms in bootcamp and Roe worked it out as well. They've kept mum about it, though, and if you're going to join our secret society then you have to as well."
"You're fuckin' nuts," Guarnere said, cackling to himself in the way only he was able. "Jesus Christ. A goddamn broad -"
"Who saved your life about an hour ago!"
Guarnere brushed her aside. "Yeah, yeah." He shook his head. "Can't believe Johnny knows and he didn't tell me."
Posey grinned and shrugged at the look he gave her. With a wink, she told him, "Careless talk costs lives."