Posey had a good feeling about Operation Market Garden. As Nixon had explained to them in their initial lecture, this was General Montgomery's personal plan to get the Allies into Germany. If it succeeded, they'd be in Berlin by Christmas. When Nixon had explained that they'd be under British command, the men of the company had groaned and bitched and complained. Posey, however, had sat there grinning; the Brits had been doing this a lot longer than the Americans, both historically and in this war particularly. She was confident about this one. Proud, also, to be under British command. It felt a bit like doing her bit for her own country as opposed to someone else's, directly working to fight for her home. She found herself sitting up straighter and paying closer attention from that moment on.
When the lecture had cleared out there were mixed reviews. Replacements banded together, their heads ducked as they discussed the details of their foray into enemy territory, whilst veterans threw out comments lazily to each other. All of them lamented the British command but none of them could deny that Berlin by Christmas was a delightful prospect. The sooner the war was over the better.
Posey watched from a ways back as Heffron was drawn away from his circle of replacement friends and into her group of usual companions. She decided to head over to those he'd left in the dust. It wasn't Heffron's fault, of course, that he was constantly being welcomed into a circle of veterans - it wasn't like he could deny them, in any case, even though Posey knew for a fact he'd never wanted to - but she thought the other replacements could likely use some veteran calming words in a moment like this, too.
"How are we feeling, boys?" she asked, coming up behind Miller, Garcia, and Hashey and making them all jump. Their eyes were wide as they looked at her. She laughed. "Excited, nervous, scared? Terrified?"
"That about covers it, yeah," Hashey replied slowly, tentatively.
Posey grinned. "Lots of the vets'll be feeling that way too. Don't let 'em fool you." She fell into step beside the replacements and gazed up into the sunlight. "If you have any questions about anything - anything at all - you can ask me. Just so you know. I know a lot of your insider information will come from Heffron but I'm here to ask if you want to."
"Um, thanks," Garcia replied, nodding.
Posey giggled in spite of herself. "You don't have to look so frightened. I'm harmless." She leaned closer as though sharing a secret. "You know, they gave me the nickname Duckie because I'm so utterly unterrifying."
Slowly but surely, Miller cracked a grin. "Really?"
"Yep!" Posey replied, grinning herself as she recalled the event. "Back at Toccoa. They had me stand next to Bull - Sergeant Randleman - and Luz said that if he's a bull then I'm a duck." She chuckled to herself. "Feels like a lifetime ago now."
A pause fell over them as they continued on their way back to the barracks before Hashey spoke up warily, "Are you nervous about the jump?"
Posey nodded. She'd expected this question. "Of course. Are you?"
She was met with subtle nods all around in reply. They looked a tad taken aback at her honesty, which made her want to smile.
"Good," she said in response to their nods. "Nerves are good. If you weren't nervous, I'd say you should be nervous about not being nervous. Nerves are your fuel, right?" she began to explain. "They're gonna increase your adrenaline levels so if you get hurt you can get yourself to safety before having to be checked over. They're gonna heighten your senses, make you more focused on what you're doing and what's going on all around you. Just don't let yourself get so nervous you freeze up, alright? That's when the trouble starts."
When she looked back at the three replacements they all looked like deer caught in headlights, nodding vigorously as they absorbed each word. She couldn't help but laugh. "You're all in Bull's squad, right?"
"Yeah, Sergeant Randleman," Miller confirmed.
Posey smiled. "Then you'll be absolutely fine. He's great - looked after me in Normandy when I was hit, made sure I got to cover. He'll keep an eye out for you. All you've gotta do is listen to him and do whatever he tells you. Okay?"
"Okay," chorused the trio.
"You givin' 'em your gun speech?" Bill asked as they entered the barracks.
"No," replied Posey promptly, walking over to straighten her rifle where it had begun to slip in its place against the wall. Things were still a tad bit frosty between her and Bill, along with some of the other men, after the events in the pub last night, but she had no interest in taking the matter any further and could only trust that all she'd said to them had hit its mark.
"What's the gun speech?" Garcia inquired, entirely unaware of what he was getting himself into.
Groans followed the question in unison, largely from the men in Posey's squad.
"The gun speech," she began, unable to hide her grin as she spun to face the room once more, "is reserved for those who exhibit less than satisfactory handling of their rifle. I generally dish it out on field manoeuvres when the men in my squad show me that they're in need of a reminder on how to adequately prepare their weapon." She shot a grin over at Hale and Soboleski, finding them already listening in. "You wanna give 'em the gun speech?" she asked. "Seeing as you've heard it so many times." There was nothing unkind in her words, which was perhaps what prompted Soboleski to take her up on the request.
"'Strap, windage, elevation, safety. Got it? You need to check all of them. How many times have I told you not to forget windage and elevation? These things are gonna save your life once you get into combat'," he recited, standing tall as he did so.
Posey clapped for him once he'd finished. "An exemplary student!" she cheered. Then she turned to Garcia, Hashey, and Miller. "That," she began, laughing to herself, "is the gun speech. So don't forget it. Strap, windage, elevation, safety."
"Stop lecturin' my boys, Duckie," drawled Bull from the other side of the barracks.
Posey giggled. "Then make sure they remember windage and elevation!" she called back.
When she caught Bill rolling his eyes she swatted at him playfully before turning and picking up her rifle. "Right," she declared, "I'm off to the -"
"Rifle range, yeah, yeah," George cut her off, feigning exasperation. "You and that fuckin' rifle range. What the fuck do you even do over there?"
"If you don't know what goes on at a rifle range perhaps you should be spending more time there yourself," Posey retorted, quirking a brow at him in challenge.
"I'm starting to think the rifle range is code for going off to meet a dame," Lieb remarked to the room at large, a smirk on his lips where he was reclining on his bunk. "You hiding some British broad from us, Duckie?"
"Perhaps I am," she replied slyly, wanting to laugh so badly that a giggle escaped her. Lieb would hopefully never know how right he'd been with that statement, for she was hiding a British broad from them - a British broad by the name of Posey Wells. "Guess you'll never know."
"Aw, come on, Duckie," Malarkey said, the joke going right over his head. He sat on his bunk with wide, curious eyes and couldn't understand why the room laughed in response to him. Everyone else knew she wasn't really off to see a girl but Malark had a tendency to take people at their word, a trait which was both wonderful and undesirable when in the presence of so many liars as he was.
Posey shrugged as if to say 'what can you do?'. "Sorry, Malark," she began, already inching her way towards the door. "Careless talk costs lives."
She made it to the range in good time and reckoned she'd be able to get in a decent amount of practise before dinner. She strapped her rifle before lifting it and getting into a standard standing shooting position. She calculated her windage and elevation and adjusted as necessary before peering through the scope and clicking off her safety. Each of the bullets she fired hit the bullseye, exactly what she'd been hoping for now that their next combat jump was so soon.
When she lowered her gun, ready to change her magazine, movement in her periphery drew her attention. Turning, she found Heffron loading his gun and getting into position a little ways away from her, over at one of the standard M1 targets. She suppressed a smile and carried on as she was, watching him in her periphery.
He was a decent shot, as it happened.
The pair of them carried on that way for a while, in haphazard glances and steady shooting. Posey knew he wouldn't leave until she had and dinner was almost upon them, so she lowered her gun and began to pack up sooner than she would have ordinarily.
As she emptied her clips into the ammunition box, she shot a glance over at Heffron. "I think your friends have been missing you," she said, laughing to herself when he jumped at the sound of her voice.
"What?"
"Your replacement friends," she explained, standing up straight and watching him head over to unload his gun, too. "I think they've been missing you."
Heffron shrugged. "I'm an easy person to miss."
Posey surprised herself when she laughed loudly. She hadn't expected that of him, but she supposed he was indeed from South Philly and he couldn't have gotten out unscathed by the same hubris that one could always expect from Bill.
"Sure you are," she agreed, still laughing just a little bit. She waited quietly as he emptied his gun and then fell into step beside him as they headed for the barracks.
The sky overhead was overcast, a dull grey pushing the blue away relentlessly. Posey squinted up into the light as they walked, wondering just how long it would take to rain; that seemed to be the only weather they were getting these days.
Only the sounds of footsteps on cobblestones and the rustling of leaves could be heard for a while. All of the birds had fled, instinctively aware of the coming storm. Posey spoke up mindlessly, still gazing upwards. "I hope it doesn't rain as much in Holland as it does here." Whilst she'd been to France before D-Day, the Netherlands were unchartered territory for her. She'd be jumping into the unknown.
"Did it rain in France?" came Heffron's reply. Posey glanced over to find him walking with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, watching the sky much like she herself had just been.
"Loads," she confirmed, unable to keep from grimacing as she recalled her time in Normandy. "And it was hot, too. Being baking hot is one thing, but being baking hot and soaking wet is entirely another. Hopefully Holland isn't as hot as Normandy was, either."
"You're from Boston, ain't ya?" asked Heffron. Posey nodded her reply, curious as to where he was going with this. "Makes sense that you ain't used to the heat," he explained.
Posey laughed. "Yeah." It was true that she wasn't used to it, though not for that particular reason. "And Philadelphia is cold too, right?"
"You never been to Philly?" Heffron's face was a picture, his jaw agape and eyebrows halfway up his forehead.
Posey couldn't help but laugh. "Why's that such a shock?"
"Everyone's gotta experience Philly," he replied as though this should've been obvious. He opened his mouth to go on but Posey interjected.
"Have you ever been to Boston?"
"No."
"Then I could say much the same for you!"
Heffron shook his head vigorously. "Nah. Ain't the same. Philly's different."
"How would you know if you've never been to Boston?" Why she was willing to go to war with him over a place she didn't even belong to baffled her, but for whatever reason she found herself particularly engaged in the conversation.
"I just know, okay?"
"You just know?"
"Yeah! I just know!"
"Well," Posey began evenly, fighting to keep the smile out of her voice, "God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents." The line was from Twelfth Night, naturally, because there was scarcely another story that had ever lined up so perfectly with her life and all of the interactions in it.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Heffron accused.
Posey laughed loudly and offered up no explanation.
"Duckie, I swear..." he began to threaten, trailing off.
Posey only laughed more. "You swear what?"
"I swear I'll knock your head off your shoulders if you don't tell me what you're laughin' at."
She had no time to respond and he no time to do so, however, when the heavens opened and began to pour their contents down on them.
"Ah, fuck."
The pair of them broke into a run and arrived back at the barracks shortly, only slightly wet but sufficiently out of breath.
No one batted an eye at their entrance, simply continued about their business as they waited for dinner, playing cards or writing home or shooting the breeze. Posey shut the door quietly behind her and laughed to herself, then sighed as she recalled how soon they'd be leaving Aldbourne, this time never to return.
Still, she was in good company and that was as good a comfort as any. She fell into idle conversation with Roe in the bunk beside hers and allowed the atmosphere of the barracks to wash over her. She'd hold onto this, she knew, when she was in Holland. She'd been storing memories up for a while to call upon later and take into her arms when the world felt once more like it was ending. And it would. Just as it had in Normandy, she knew it would again. But with the passing of time, new memories had fallen into her lap, some to resent and others to cherish. Armed with a new gun and a fresh set of emotional ammunition, she could only hope both of these things would be enough to see her through.