UPDATED 05/15/2022. Revised some conversations and added more historical context. Reminder that some German is used here and that the translations are at the bottom. I like this revamped chapter--I think it flows better.
* * * * *
JULY 1945
Liebgott, Skinny, and Webster had gone on a patrol. They had orders from Speirs to interrogate a man who had run one of the concentration camps. Apparently, the confrontation had gone out of hand and the next thing they all knew, there was one angry Liebgott and a dead man in the grass.
Webster and Skinny were explaining this to Madison, who was just trying to lounge and smoke her cigarette in peace. Man, she was going to be in so much trouble with her mother when she saw her again because Marlene Klein despised smoking, but Madison couldn't care less at the moment. She was too worried for Liebgott.
Liebgott was a good man, a good friend, and a good soldier. Sure, he was a little hotheaded, but who could blame him? He was still upset about Landsberg, everyone knew it.
"I can't say that I blame him for how he feels," Madison told Webster and Skinny. "I mean, I would be pretty pissed off too. I am. I'm just worried that he's going to do something stupid."
"Like today," Webster said. Madison debated on his words, but didn't voice what she was truly thinking. She didn't want to get into a debate with Company Scholar today.
"I mean...yeah. From what you told me he got reckless. I hope he's okay," Madison checked the time on her watch, needing a distraction. "I need to go to the bakery. It's my turn to pick up something there for my roommates. Do either of you want me to get you anything?"
Webster shook his head. "I'm fine."
Skinny dug out some cash from his pocket. "Surprise me."
Madison took the cash. She waved goodbye to the men before heading down the street and so forth before she found the bakery. She had discovered it a few weeks ago and damn, did this shop make the best desserts she's ever tasted.
Madison opened the door and made her way in the shop. Before the door was completely shut behind her, she heard someone's footsteps close behind, so she stopped and held the door open. A young man, probably around her age came in. He was tall and lanky with dark skin and boyish looks. Judging by his uniform, he was part of the Army. He nodded to Madison in thanks, and she nodded in return. The two stood next to each other inside the store, as they read the sign hanging behind the countertop to see what they wanted.
The man broke the silence.
"Excuse me, miss. This is going to be a long shot, but do you know what any of this means?"
"Yes...somewhat," Madison answered, as she squinted to read. It seemed like her eyesight was getting worse by the day. "I'm more better at speaking than reading. That's my sister's specialty, but I can try to help. What are you planning to get?"
The man shrugged. "I actually don't know. Have you been here before?"
"Yes. I enjoy the Kaiser rolls and strudels here. I'm more of a sweets person, if I have to be honest."
"What kind of strudels do they have here?" the man asked.
"Apple is the best," Madison answered as she moved to get in line. The man followed her.
"I see," the man said. "If you don't mind me asking, what part of—"
Before the man could finish his question, he was roughly pulled and shoved back to the front of the store by a large man, roughly about Bull's size if Madison had to guess. Madison's mouth dropped as she looked up at the man in shock.
"Leave the pretty lady, alone. Your kind ain't welcomed here," the man spat at Madison's acquaintance. His friends that were with him were smiling and laughing along. The man noticed Madison staring at him in a rather pissed off manner. He grinned.
"You would be more beautiful if you smiled," he said.
Madison felt herself twitch in anger. What the fuck? She was going to fire back, but the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped her from doing so.
"Ahem!"
Madison whipped back to face the very impatient cashier.
"Are you going to buy?" he asked in English. Madison walked up to the counter briskly. She froze. She turned back to the line, trying to catch the attention of her acquaintance who was banished to the back of the line. It wasn't right that he got sent back there. She caught his eye, and she motioned him to join her. He looked unsure.
"Come back up here, you were in front of me," she said, loud and clear for everyone to hear. Her acquaintance grinned, walking past by the men as they muttered angrily. The lanky man (really, he was a boy) winked at Madison as he began to order. He soon retrieved his order and left the bakery. Then it was Madison's turn to order.
The employees were quick to get her order together, and she paid the cashier before she made her leave. One of the men tried tripping her, but she was able to dodge it.
"Betraying her own kind," one of the men said. "Stupid whore."
The man who had pushed her acquaintance back said something more vulgar, but she ignored them as she exited the store. They weren't worth her time. When she exited the store, she jumped in shock when she saw a figure in the corner of her vision. She relaxed when she realized that it was her newly found associate.
"Brave thing to do, for such a little lady," he said, before taking a bite of his strudel. He gulped. "Mmhm. You're right. This is very good."
"I'm always right," Madison said, watching him eat. It made her hungry, but she refrained from pulling out her order. "And I have to be brave if I'm standing here, aren't I?"
"Right you are," her newly found friend agreed. He studied her appearance. "I'm curious as to why you're in your outfit. You're in a man's uniform and I see a screaming eagle? Are you a part of the Airborne?"
"The 101st. 506th regiment. I'm a medic for Easy Company, Second Battalion." Madison explained, as she shifted her bag in her arm. She couldn't help but feel like a mother, bringing food home for her children.
"You jump out of airplanes?" the man asked. "By golly, you sure must be one crazy woman."
Madison grinned at the touch of humor in his tone and voice.
"That I am. I have to be twice as crazy as the men, but cleverer than they are," Madison said. The man chuckled. "My name is Madison, by the way. Sergeant Madison Klein."
The young man saluted Madison, who returned the gesture.
"Private First Class Joshua Green, but my friends call me Josh," the man, now identified as Josh, said. "Say, isn't Madison—"
"A boy's name? Yeah, usually," Madison said. "And don't you know it, I have a sister named Morgan too. But it's nice to meet you, Josh," Madison stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he did.
"Where you from?"
"Ohio. I'm from Dayton."
"No way! I'm from Dayton, too!" Madison couldn't help but laugh. "Such a small world, isn't it?"
"That it is," Josh agreed, smiling as well. "Dunbar District."
"Northeast, but I have family friends in Dunbar," Madison shared. "What do you do? For the army, I mean."
"Transportation and mechanics mostly," Josh answered. "I'm mighty handy when it comes to tools."
"That's a good thing," Madison nodded. "What kind of transportation do you do?"
"Anything that they needed, I was part of the Red Ball Express," Josh summarized. "I think the most important transportation service I ever did was getting supplies into Belgium. I heard Bastogne was rough."
"Oh, it was. I think that was my hardest moment in the war. Stuck with no winter gear in the forest, what a nightmare! But don't down yourself. Without transportation of any kind, how can we get what we need and where to go?" Madison asked. "Everyone plays a huge role in the war; drivers and mechanics included. I know I could never do that."
"You know how to look on the good side of things," Josh mused, but didn't comment further. He looked at Madison's bags full of goods. "So, is all that for you?"
Madison glanced towards her bag and she huffed in amusement.
"Oh, no, today is just my turn to pick up some things for my friends. We rotate, but I think I do it the most, because they're always on guard and patrolling while I'm usually stuck in town and working in the POW or DP camps." Madison stopped, realizing that she was rambling; borderline ranting. "Sorry, it gets a little frustrating when you sign up to do the same stuff, but they shoot you down. I'm supposed to help my comrades, but they won't let me."
"Trust me, I know the feeling," Josh said. Madison felt her cheeks turn red.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"It's fine. Seems like we both have the same issues, but in different scenarios, huh?"
"I guess so," Madison said softly. She checked her watch. "I—"
"You know what I don't understand?" Josh asked suddenly and almost too quickly. "That why we're able to do the things that they can do, but we get denied the same privileges."
He was referring to the men that had just harassed him and later Madison. He was referring to her fellow friends and comrades. He was referring to their authority. She understood the issues that he was addressing.
"It blows, doesn't it?" Josh continued. "You get denied because of your sex, and I get denied because of my race. I'm stuck behind the lines, but you're in front of them. Isn't that weird?"
"Yeah, it is," Madison agreed, slowly. "It should be the other way around. I mean, God, I don't even know how I got this far, but you know what Josh? I'm glad you weren't in the line of fire...not like I was. It's awful. God, it's so awful," she paused for a moment. "All I really remember is the arterially barrages, the yells, the blood, and—and my friends dying. Although it's unfair and ironic for us, I'm glad you're safe."
Josh's shoulders relaxed, as they had become tense as he spoke his thoughts. He seemed more sober as he saw Madison's facial expression change. It became somber...sad, even.
"You're right, though. Those who see themselves above someone else do not treat them right. That really didn't hit me until we liberated the concentration camps."
It was quiet for a moment before Josh spoke again. His voice was quiet.
"I was at one of the camps, I helped. Those people...they didn't care about my skin color. They were grabbing me, kissing me, thanking me. They were grateful, even though I couldn't do much for them."
"You did enough by just being there and helping them. They were grateful; it doesn't matter what the color of your skin is," Madison explained, with a sad smile on her face and downcasted eyes. Josh noticed her mood shift.
"Something wrong?'
At first, Madison was going to say no, but decided against it.
"Yes. Something is wrong," Madison said. "Bringing up the camps...well, that's one thing I won't ever forget. I can't help but feel as if it's my fault, and that it's my fault that my friends are so miserable these days."
"Why do you say that?"
Madison sighed.
"I don't know. I mean, I'm of German descent, you know? My old man's parents immigrated to the states and I kind of just grew up to be proud of my ancestry. We've contributed a lot to our community, but...but it's been overshadowed by what Germany did almost thirty years ago, and in recent events too. Even though Germany is to blame for why we're here, I still can't help but be proud of my family, even though our heritage is the reason why we're here."
"So...you're saying that you're guilty by association?" Josh supplied.
Madison nodded. "I suppose so. There's really no other way for me to describe it."
"Well, just because you come from it, doesn't mean you support it, right?" Josh asked. "I think it's fine that you're proud of what your family has done in the states. Hell, my Grammy told me that it was the German immigrants who opposed slavery, and that contriubted a lot to society, especially in Ohio."
"Your Grammy sounds like she knows a lot," Madison said. She has heard that previous generations of German immigrants opposed slavery and support social reform, but this was the first time she heard it from someone outside her family's social circle.
"Grammy was a very smart woman," Josh agreed. "But, you know what you do? You're proud of your American roots and you acknowledge the issue of people you're connected with, but you don't support them. I saw that when you defied those men and now, you're here, conversing with me. You take action because you can't let bullies get away with their behavior. I've only known you for about ten minutes, and I can see that you have a good heart. You're a good person."
Madison couldn't help but feel flustered. Why was Josh saying all of this?
"I'm really not, I—"
"Shut up and take the compliment, okay?" Josh stopped her. Madison stared at him. She wanted to deny his kind words, but she could tell that Josh was a very stubborn man. She could respect that.
"Okay, I'll shut up and take the compliment," she eventually agreed. "Thanks for listening to my rant and making me feel better. Do you need any current counseling of your own?"
Josh waved it off. "I'm fine, thank you. Although, you may want to get back to your friends before they think that you ran off with their food. Do you want me to walk with you?"
"Do you want to?"
Josh shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I have much to do these days."
"Okay, let's go," Madison said. Josh stuck his elbow out for her to take. Madison took it and together, they walked all the way back to her quarters. They talked more. They spoke of their families, what they did before the war, what their favorite movies were, and anything else that came to mind. Josh had gasped in shock when Madison told him about how she lied about her age all those years ago. It was rather funny.
"Maddie! Where the hell have you been?"
Madison looked up to see that Babe had ran towards her. The two friends nodded to each other in greeting before Babe glanced at Josh.
"Who's this?" Babe asked.
"This is my new friend, Private First Class Joshua Green. He's a supply runner and mechanic. Josh, this is my best friend in the unit, Babe Heffron," Madison introduced. "Don't mind the accent—he's from South Philly."
"Hey!" Babe interjected. "Don't be making fun of the accent!"
Before Madison could retort, Josh spoke up. He had a feeling that the two would have been stuck in a banter.
"Nice to meet you," Josh nodded to Babe who nodded back. Babe glanced back at Madison, looking rather nervous.
"What's wrong?" Madison asked, as she pulled away from Josh. She handed Babe the bag and he took it. He watched as Madison stretched out the arm that held the bag of treats.
"Nothing. It's uh...Lieb. He's really riled up and I think he's been crying, but he won't let anybody near him."
Madison felt the nervousness herself. She glanced back at Josh with wide eyes.
"Lieb is one of our friends who has felt a personal effect about what has happened. He's Jewish," Madison explained. "Maybe you should leave. He's been really angry for the past few weeks, and I wouldn't want anyone to cross his path when he's angry."
Josh nodded. "Alright, take care. I'll see you around."
Josh began to walk away, but Madison remembered the encounter with the white soldiers at the bakery. Right now, they were in a primarily white area, and she didn't want anything bad to happen to her new friend. She wouldn't forgive herself if someone beat him to a bloody pulp or something worse.
"Hey, Josh, wait! Babe, can you walk with him?"
"Um, sure," Babe stuttered. "Be careful."
Babe handed Madison the bag back and ran up to Josh, starting a conversation with him. Madison watched as they left before she made her way inside. It was quiet in the house.
"Lieb? Are you here?" she yelled out, walking into the kitchen and placed the bag on the countertop. She couldn't help but feel like her mother at the moment. "Lieb? Liebgott? Joe!"
"I'm in here," Liebgott replied. He was in the living room.
Madison got out a pack of cookies she had bought and made her way into the living room. Liebgott was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. She made her way closer to him, eventually sitting down next to him. She unwrapped her package, taking one of the cookies out and began to eat it.
"Web and Skinny told me what happened," Madison began. Liebgott scoffed.
"What? You're gonna scold me too?" he snapped. Madison shook her head.
"Nein. The fucker had it coming," Madison said. She offered Liebgott a cookie and he grabbed it out of her hand. He studied it before taking a bite out of it.
"He murdered my people," Liebgott said. "He killed innocent people."
"I know."
"He did. They did. They all did it."
"Yeah."
"I didn't kill him, but I wish I did."
"I know, Joe. I know."
Madison heard a sniffle. Liebgott had started to tear up.
"I don't understand. Why them? What the hell did they do wrong? Is it that bad that I wanted to kill that son of a bitch?"
"They did nothing wrong, Lieb. You know that. I know that. We all do. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but it took a toll on all of us. For someone to do something like that? That's inhumane, and it's not wrong for wanting to kill him. He ran one of the camps, of course you're going to want to kill him! Believe me, Lieb, I want nothing more than to see every SS soldier and affiliate burn for what they did. It may be considered to be unethical but honestly, that officer had it coming."
Liebgott was shocked to hear the vehement in Madison's voice. It sounded like she was also affected by the events that had occurred. It was true. While Liebgott's personal connection made him feel raw, everyone knew that Madison cared for everyone. She was a nice girl like that, however, that nice girl had also been affected by the war, too. Everyone had—no one had a clean conscience thanks to the horrors they've endured over the past year or so.
It was quiet between the two friends for a while, as if they were collecting their thoughts. Eventually, Liebgott asked a question:
"How am I going to tell my family this?"
Madison almost huffed at this, but she refrained from it. She felt like she just had this conversation not too long ago.
"You know, Shifty asked me the same thing. You know what I told him?" She paused, before answering her own question. "It's your choice to tell your family about your experience, but here's the catch: you don't have to tell them if you don't want to."
"I don't want to tell them. It would break my ma's heart."
"Then your answer is simple: don't tell them."
* * * * * *
Just because the combat portion of the war was over, it did not mean that there were still casualties.
Alcohol was a major factor in many of these cases. The soldiers had too much to drink and too much time on their hands. Look at Shifty: he was supposed to go home, but he would have to spend months in a hospital because a drunkard had hit the jeep he was in head on. Madison was still furious about it.
The latest casualty, however, was Janovec. He was one of the replacements. Madison wasn't the biggest fan of him, but she didn't hate him, either. What had happened to him was that there was a vehicle accident. Madison wasn't too sure of the details, but he was dead on scene. It was rather sad. He was ten points short of being able to go home, but his life was snuffed out quickly.
The enemy had surrendered, but people were still getting hurt or dying.
* * * * * *
It was later in July, almost August, when she received the news.
It was a usual day for Madison at the DP hospital, until one of the nurses told her that a jeep was waiting for her outside. That was her first clue that something was wrong.
Madison walked out and she noticed that Lipton was in the jeep, looking rather solemn. That was her second clue.
"Lieutenant?" Madison could hear the waver in her own voice.
"Sergeant Klein," Lipton greeted. "You're needed back at headquarters."
Madison didn't ask any more questions as she hopped in the jeep. The driver sped off and there was an awkward silence between the sergeant and lieutenant. That almost never happened with Lipton.
"Lieutenant Lipton? Is something wrong?" Madison asked. She could feel her heart pounding.
Lipton looked rather uncomfortable. "I think you need to find out back at HQ."
Madison swallowed. She could respect that.
"Okay."
Almost twenty minutes later, Madison and Lipton were dropped off in front of HQ. Madison felt like she was about to overstimulate. She felt Lipton's hand on her back as they made their way to Major Winters' office, guiding her. Lewis Nixon was in the room as well. No one looked happy. They looked solemn, which was the third (or was it fourth?) clue that something was terribly wrong.
"Major Winters. Captain Nixon," Madison greeted rather thickly.
"Sergeant Klein," Winters greeted. It looked like he was having trouble trying to say something. He was toying with something thin in his hands. Eventually, he seemed to have found his voice because he began talking.
"Major," Madison nodded. She hoped that she wasn't in trouble but deep down, she knew that this conversation wasn't going to be about her.
"Sergeant, I'm afraid something has happened," Winters began, as he stood up from his chair and made his way around his desk. There was a folded piece of paper in one hand. Madison swallowed again. Her legs felt weak. She was really hoping that it wasn't what she thought it was.
"Klein, I'm afraid something terrible has happened to your—"
No, Madison instantly thought, as Winters handed her the paper. She could feel her world collapsing by the millisecond. Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no.
Madison's hand crumbled the piece of paper, too scared to open it. She didn't want to.
"Sergeant Klein?"
Madison was looking down at the crumpled paper. She had to force herself to open it. It was a telegram. She scanned it briefly.
SGT Klein Jr., Matthew R.
KIA May 8, 1945
* * * * * *
This is how Madison reacted.
First, she stood frozen. She was in shock. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. The men in the room were afraid that she was going to faint, so they sat her down in a nearby chair. They tried talking to her, but it didn't work.
Eventually, Madison was able to speak.
"Matt's dead?"
Those were Madison's first words. It broke everyone's hearts. They had never seen her this vulnerable before, save for the deaths of Hoobler, Muck, and Penkala. Someone had said, "I'm sorry" but Madison wasn't sure who said it.
Madison had rubbed her temple and she could feel the tears well up in her eyes. Her brother had been killed months ago. He had died the day her war was over. She had been celebrating and drinking her ass off while he was killed in action. Her big brother, the firstborn of the Klein clan, was dead.
And she didn't find out until today. Almost two and a half months after his death date.
Oh my God.
She started to cry silently in front of Winters, Nixon, and Lipton. She didn't care that she did, she wasn't thinking about them. She may have made some noise, but she wasn't sure. All she could feel was her heart shattering in guilt and worry.
Madison felt guilty and worried. Guilty for surviving and goofing around while her brother and comrades were (and are) still kicking ass. Her combat days were finished, but her brother's wasn't and never would be. And then her family? There's no doubt that they had found out before she had. They probably heard a few weeks, maybe a month after his death date, and she found out almost two and a half months after. Her mind briefly flashed back to Guarnere and how he hadn't found out about his brother until right before they jumped into Normandy. That had been June, and his brother had been killed in January.
Fuck.
This is bullshit.
"I...I need to go," Madison said hoarsely. The men nodded, understanding that she needed time for herself.
"Alright. Do you need anyone to take you—"
"No," Madison interrupted Winters. She internally cringed and yelled at herself for doing that, but she couldn't care at the moment. The numbness had kicked in. "I, um. I think I need to be by myself for a little while. Thank you, though."
She had walked out after that. She could feel the tears streaming down and her face was probably all red and blotchy, but she just did not give a fuck. She needed to go somewhere, and she knew exactly where she needed to be. Sooner rather than later, she had found what she was looking for.
Madison entered the store, looking around. The old man greeted her in English.
"How may I help you today?"
Madison stared at him for a long moment, intimidating him, but not on purpose. People tell her she had a stare of death, kind of like Speirs in a way. She pulled out a wad of cash from one of her pockets.
"I need your best and strongest. Bitte."
The man had gotten her all that she was able to afford. He even put it in a crate for her.
"Is this all?"
"Ja. Danke," Madison nodded, picking up the crate and exited the store. She had walked all the way down to Easy's alcohol was stored. Thank God for Winters and allowing each company to take any alcohol from Hitler's place on VE Day, and thank God for stashing it in a safe and secret place where only the men knew.
When Madison arrived, he placed down her crate of alcohol she had purchased and sat down next to it. She picked up a bottle, examining it. She couldn't read the label, but she didn't care. She opened it up and started to drink straight from the bottle.
* * * * * *
It was nightfall, close to midnight. She had drank and drank and drank. No one had come looking for her, as far as she knew. She was busy drowning in her sorrows to notice otherwise. She just wanted to forget.
Madison was drunk as fuck at the moment. She had decided to take a break, and her head was face down on the crate, which she had turned over once she was finished with the bottles that were in it. To an outsider, it looked like she was praying.
Lewis Nixon knew better.
No one had seen or heard from Madison all day, and it had everyone concerned. Nixon, however, had sensed exactly what she was doing. She had lost her big brother not only once, but twice. He had an idea, as soon as she left them, that he knew exactly what she was planning to do once she received the news.
And he was right.
Nixon knelt down next to Madison, who was motionless except for the heavy breathing she labored.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Madison, still with her head down, answered.
"Nothing."
"I didn't mean your feelings."
Madison sighed. She didn't really want to admit to how drunk she was. Even in her state, she knew she drank too much.
"Intoxicated. Topheavy. Hell if I knew," she admitted. "I'm such a fucking hypocrite."
Nixon raised an eyebrow at this.
"How so?"
Madison slammed a hand on the crate as she lifted her head up. Her head felt heavy and she felt as if she was on fire. She was afraid to stand up because she felt so dizzy. Her eyes narrowed at Nixon.
"How so? Well, gee, I don't know. I get on about how everyone has too much time and alcohol on their hands and look where I'm at. I'm jagged! I'm completely jagged!"
"Well, if I had just found out I lost my big brother, I would be pretty upset, too," Nixon tried. Speaking of Matt made Madison burst into tears. She just wanted to forget about him.
"Oh God," she rubbed her eyes roughly, so rough that she saw stars. "He's dead, Captain. Dead. And I...and I...it's like Skip and Alex and Donny all over again. You know, I think I got along with Warren so well because he reminded me of Matt? And I lost them both. I should have fucking died in Bastogne. I was right there in that goddamn foxhole with them! And I left them to die by themselves. What kind of friend is that, huh? What kind of friend does that? HUH?"
A glass shattered. Madison had slammed it to the ground. Tears were still flowing and so was her anger.
"I'm so tired of this, Captain. Tired of losing friends, losing family," she stopped, thinking of her family back home. "Oh, my poor mama. Matt was her firstborn. That was her baby. That was her baby and he died. Fuck! What am I gonna do when I come home? Two Kleins went in, and only one of them came out, and it had to be the girl." She scoffed. "No one back home gives a fuck about the women in war. They don't."
Madison took a break, back to swinging a bottle to her lips. Nixon didn't stop her. After a long gulp, she spoke again.
"Remember back when I first came to Toccoa? A lot of the men didn't really like me. The townspeople or the papers didn't like me either. They thought I was insane, and maybe I am a little, but they said there was no way I would be able to make it through basic, through jump school, through the war. Well, I proved them wrong, didn't I? I didn't wash out, right? I'm still alive, aren't I? Alive when I should have been dead a long, long time ago."
"That you are," Nixon agreed. "That you are."
Neither one of them knew how long they sat there. It had been close to five in the morning when Nixon decided that enough was enough. He knew the tiny medic was in absolute pain, both because she was in mourning and because of all that alcohol she consumed...oh yeah, that was going to make her sick. Nixon couldn't help but smirk and feel a sense of pride. This was the first time she had really gotten drunk, but he couldn't help but feel worried for her. He didn't want her to be an alcoholic like he was. So, when it was close to half an hour to 0600, he had helped the intoxicated sergeant and brought her back to where she was staying.
Babe, Liebgott, Luz, Perconte, Malarkey, Spina, and Roe had a field day when Nixon entered the house, half-carrying and half-leading Madison in. He was mostly carrying her since she had difficulties walking, even with his support.
"Where the fuck has she been?!" Liebgott had shouted, but Nixon got all of them to shut up.
"Let me take her to her room and I'll explain what happened," Nixon said. The men allowed him to undress Madison down to her undergarments and tucked her in. He patted her head.
"Sweet dreams, kid."
* * * * * *
Nixon had explained to her friends that were waiting for her what had happened. He had told them how Lipton had gone to pick her up from her shift, then how they broke the news to her, then how he found her absolutely torn into a new one.
No one had let on that they knew about it, but even if she was currently suffering from the most awful hangover, Madison wasn't stupid. Nixon had relieved her of her duties for the next few days, and Roe had stayed with her all day, nursing her back to sobriety. She knew that they knew.
"You know, don't you?" Madison asked. She was still in bed, the blankets covering her.
Roe didn't say anything. It irritated Madison.
"Don't you say nothing to me. I may be hungover but I'm not daft."
Roe relented. Although, he seemed a little shaky telling her.
"When Captain Nixon dropped you off this morning, he told us about your brother," he said softly. "Maddie, I am so—"
"Don't say it. Please don't say it." She didn't want any sympathy, any pity. She didn't want it. She was past her shock stage of grief. She was now entering her emotional outburst and anger stages, and it wasn't going to be pretty.
It had taken Madison a full day of rest to recover from her hangover. She had almost given herself alcohol poisoning, but Roe thought since she had paced herself and waited for a certain amount of time to drain the next bottle, she was better than she should have been.
It seemed that everyone had got the word about what happened, and they never mentioned it, at least to her face. Some expressed their condolences, but Madison generally ignored it. She felt bad for doing that but right now, she just wanted to mourn in solitude. While Madison had shared stories about her brother and read his letters out loud, the men didn't really know him. As a result, she didn't expect them to offer condolences—it just didn't feel real. She knew that her friends were genuinely sorry for her loss, but she just didn't want to hear it.
Her wishes for solitude weren't exactly followed, as she felt like she was being watched by someone every hour of the day. It irritated her and made her a little self-conscious, but for the most part she was fine with it. Deep down, she knew her friends were trying to look out for her, and she did appreciate it. She just learned to ignore it as she threw herself hard into her work. While she always put in maximum effort, her work ethic was more extreme this time. She wanted no more death, no more accidents.
Bitte, Gott. Nicht mehr.
* * * * * *
When you lose someone, it hurts. It hurts a lot. You're shocked, you're sad, you're angry, you're afraid. So many emotions can just hit you at once and you want to end the pain. You don't want it. You want it to end. That's all Madison wanted, she wanted the pain to stop.
Father Maloney had been her counselor of sorts during her time of grief. He had told her that she would be going through the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. She thought it was bullshit. First of all, it was more than just those five. You felt numb, you had emotional outbursts, you were afraid, and you were lost. Second, you were always bouncing back in the "stages of grief", there was no clear path, you were everywhere. Third and foremost, acceptance was never a real or permanent thing.
Madison had been going through her shock, anger, outbursts, depression, and isolation hitting her all at once. Thinking back to it, she knew this had happened back in January, but she didn't fully recognize the whole picture until years later. She supposed that if it was a blood relative, it hit hard. She didn't know. She stopped thinking about the process, because she would over analyze it all and would feel guilty, which made her want to shut everyone out. Sometimes, that was exactly what she did. She would isolate herself.
Her friends knew that she was going through a rough patch in her life. No one could blame her. If they lost someone close, they would understand. It didn't mean that they were going to let her lose her way. They didn't want that, and they knew that her brother wouldn't have wanted it either.
Her friends were with her all hours of the day, no matter what. Spina would volunteer with her on her shifts, they allowed her to go on patrols more, and her friends hung out with her when they could. They talked to her, she would talk back. They kept alcohol out of her sight and reach, fearing she would try to get alcohol poisoning (again). Madison had to admit, even if her family was always in mind, she found herself to be distracted by her friends. She appreciated it. She always would.
* * * * * *
Over the past month, Chuck Grant had seen that it would be his duty to teach Madison how to drive. She had never driven a motor vehicle before, and he couldn't believe it. When she had admitted to that, he slammed his glass down and said, "That's it. I'm teaching you."
Chuck Grant was a good man. He was tall and handsome. Madison found that he had beautiful eyes and brown-blond hair. He was an attractive man, she wouldn't deny it. Unfortunately, he wasn't her type of man.
Even after finding out about her brother's death, Grant still taught her how to drive. While she really didn't like it, she found it enjoyable; a distraction. Driving made her concentrate on one thing and not the other. Perhaps that was Grant's intention all along.
On one hot night in July , Madison was driving herself, Grant, and two other soldiers back from their patrol. Grant sat next to her, and the two soldiers (privates) were backseat passengers. Grant was telling the two privates a story as Madison drove them back to their quarters. He was talking about Bill and his actions on D-Day. Madison missed that man. In his last letter he told her that he was back in the states and was married to his sweetheart, Frannie. She couldn't be happier for him, honestly.
"All of a sudden, from out of nowhere, a guy jumps out of the hedgerow, onto this guy's chest, shoves a trench knife up against his throat and screams, 'Whose side are you on?'" Grant was telling the privates. Madison couldn't help but smirk briefly. That was Bill for you—shoot first, ask questions later.
"I don't get it," one of the privates said.
"It's D-Day. It's second platoon's own Bill Guarnere. Old Gonorrhea himself, just landed in Normandy and wound up like I don't know what," Grant explained. "'Whose side are you on?' What a fucking character."
"You know, Bill had just discovered that his brother was killed in Monte Cassino before we made the jump," Madison pointed out. "I remember how angry he was..."
Madison's voice trailed off, reminiscing the argument that they had. Then they reunited in Normandy and she watched him slaughter a bunch of Germans.
"He was really angry," Madison repeated. "Come to think of it, we got into a huge fight beforehand, and I don't think we apologized to each other."
"Really?" Grant asked.
"Really," Madison confirmed. "Well, I was fine with that. I know he felt sorry for the way he treated me, and he knew I felt sorry for how I treated him. Besides, we went AWOL together once—Bill could never hold a grudge against me."
Madison smiled at the thought and of her memories about Bill. They truly acted like a pair of siblings: you get mad at each other but once the anger subsides, you don't need to apologize—your actions speak louder than your words, and Bill took such great care of Madison, and vice versa.
Madison's sweet memories of her friend started to fade away as she drove closer to the scene ahead of them. In the distance, she saw two vehicles enter her vision. Both vehicles—jeeps—were parked at the side of the road, and one of them had their lights on. She began to slow down her jeep.
"What happened to him?" the private asked.
"Got his leg blown off in Bastogne," Grant answered, his voice lowering. He had noticed the scene in front of them too. "Hey, Maddie, stop the jeep."
Madison obeyed Grant's command, coming to a complete, full stop and parked. She started to feel nervous as
"Wait here," Grant told the three of them as he exited the passenger side. Madison noticed, as he was walking, that there were two dead bodies on the road. A German soldier and a British soldier. She gulped. She didn't like the situation at all and wanted to get the hell out of there.
Come on Grant, come back.
"You okay, Mac? Do you need some help?" Grant asked as the man came into his view. He had black hair and he had a gun with him. He looked intoxicated. This was not good at all.
The man laughed, and Madison didn't like it one bit. Something was about to happen, but she couldn't open her mouth.
"They wouldn't give me gas," the man said. He looked down to the body in front of both him and Grant. "Krauts! I tried to explain," he continued as he walked towards the second dead man, pointing his gun at him. Grant followed him.
"This fucking limey wouldn't listen! I think he was a major..."
"Look, private, we got a problem here," Grant started.
The drunk private looked back up to Grant. He had an ugly expression on his face.
"Do you have any gas?"
Oh hell no.
Grant walked towards the private. Madison wanted to scream at him to stop. The man had a gun—this was not going to end well.
"Why don't you give me your weapon?"
Good idea, Madison thought. She didn't like how the man was waving the gun around. She was about to jump out of her seat, but Grant wanted her to stay put, so she would.
"Well, I guess I'll use his jeep. I don't think he's gonna be needing it," the private shrugged before he started to make his way to the vehicle. Grant persisted on.
"Hold on a second, alright?" Grant said hurriedly. Before another word could come out of his mouth and before Madison or any of the privates could register what happened, the private aimed his gun at Grant and took a shot. Madison saw the bullet cut right through the side of his head and he fell to the ground, motionless and, no doubt, bleeding.
"GRANT!"
* * * * * *
TRANSLATIONS
Nein - No
Bitte - Please
Ja. Danke. - Yes. Thank you.
* * * * * *
A/N: So the cat is out of the bag. Madison now knows about her brother's death, and how does she respond? She gets drunk! Honestly, relatable...too bad alcohol is a depressant and made it worse for her. (That reminds me: I need to revamp on Matt's story.)
I like how I keep adding an OC in every other chapter. I wasn't going to make Madison's new friend, Josh, from Dayton but then I thought, "Why not?" Their neighborhoods are real places in the area. I have Madison living in the "Old North" but I'm not sure if it was called that during the 1940s, so I just said she lived in the northeast. Some creative license is being used, lol.