Posey found herself waking up with a sense of deep peace settled over her more often than she would've expected. Indeed, she had already decided boot camp was going to be the most stressful experience of her life before she'd even been told where she'd be going - and that was saying something, because she'd been in London for a lot of the Blitz. Still, sometimes she found herself blinking awake and drowning in serenity, the early light of dawn mixed with the lingering traces of starlight assuring her she still had an extra few hours to sleep before the wake up call.
Then she'd remember where she was.
It was cruel to forget. How many times had she woken up in her bunk wondering what her mother would be making for breakfast or how long it'd be until her brother woke the entire household up by stomping down the stairs? How many times had the lingering haziness of sleep allowed her to revel in her dreams of civilian mundanity?
All those weeks in bootcamp and something inside of her was still fantasising about an alternate reality where there was no war, no Blitz, no evacuation, no nothing. She felt guilty to admit it, and refused to even admit it to herself, but something inside of her was also still fantasising that she had a father, even though it'd been well over two years since he'd left. And then, once she pushed this thought away, she felt embarrassed because, really, not having a father anymore was the absolute least of her worries.
Thankfully, Posey had managed to get her shower in at her usual time last night, which tended to be around two in the morning. The entire affair had gone as smoothly as it usually did, uninterrupted and, strangely, if not eerily, serene. She loved that she could shower so late and still wake up with dry hair; this was the only upside she had found to having short hair. She still missed her long, thick blonde locks sorely.
When the wake up call eventually came Posey was feeling a lot less nostalgic and sorry for herself, and a lot more determined to conquer the day. They only had a few more weeks at Camp Toccoa before they'd be moving onto another camp she'd forgotten the name of and she was intent on beating her Currahee personal best before they left. Maybe she'd even finally complete the obstacle course in a respectable time, too, though that goal seemed a little bit more unattainable - all of the rope climbing and throwing oneself over the tops of walls was a lot more difficult when you had little-to-no upper body strength and not much in the way of height, either. The simple truth of the matter was that the obstacle course was difficult for a man of 6'4", let alone a girl of 5'7", but that didn't stop her from bouncing around on the balls of her feet and narrowing her eyes at the first obstacle later that day, dead set on scaling the wall in one go.
"Lookin' determined, there, Duckie," Skip spoke up through a smile from beside her.
Posey shot him a glance and a offered a laugh before zeroing in on the wall once more. "I'm gonna conquer that stupid wall even if it kills me," she told him. "Today will be the day."
Skip patted her once on the back. "Well, then lets hope it doesn't kill you. I'd rather not slip on your blood whilst I'm trying to 'conquer' it myself."
Posey laughed. "I'll try my very best, just for you."
"Deal," Skip replied.
How the pair of them had managed to find themselves at the front of the queue, neither had any idea. Posey could only imagine her determination had pushed her forwards inadvertently, though she found she hardly minded the pressure of the rest of the eyes of Second Platoon on the back of her, all awaiting the starting whistle. This was between her and the wall. If she fell flat on her face she'd laugh it off - it wasn't like she hadn't already had to do so a hundred times before - but she wasn't going to do so without putting up her fair share of a fight first.
"Ready, Second Platoon," Sobel called out.
Posey's entire body tensed as she kept her eyes forward and narrowed on her foe.
When the whistle was blown, she ran for it.
Slow and steady may have won the race, but she needed momentum. After many attempts she knew she'd never make it up and over the wooden wall of doom without a running start. As soon as she was close enough she leapt for it and kicked wildly against the side to boost herself up. When her jump boots hit the grass on the other side of it, she couldn't help but let out a wild whoop; it was a blur, but she'd done it. Finally.
She was falling behind Skip already and could hear that the next pair had been sent to start the course behind them but she hardly cared. She'd beaten the first obstacle on her first try. This was unprecedented. Unchartered territory. She just had to keep going and try to do the rest of the course just as well.
Posey had always had little trouble with the tyre exercise. Her feet were smaller than everyone else's and her legs were shorter. Accumulated, this meant she could hop in and out of the gaps in the tyres quickly and precisely. She was on the other side and suddenly right on Skip's heels in no time.
Army-crawling through pig guts under a web of ropes was made a lot more difficult than usual with the helmets they were now forced to wear, but this was something she'd been practising. Hold your breath, keep your head down, just keep moving forwards, she recited to herself in her head. She'd always tripped herself up by trying to look ahead but yesterday she'd had a revelation; there was no need to look ahead, the only way she had to go was forwards.
After having to scale another wall, and then another but with a rope this time, then use a rope to swing over a particularly wide ditch, she had finished the course in her quickest time yet. Breathing heavily, sweating, and covered in fish guts, sure, but she'd managed it. Raw, unsaturated determination could do a lot for a person where physicality was concerned, it seemed, though deep down she knew she'd never have been able to do that at the beginning of bootcamp, no matter how determined she'd been.
As she reached the other side Skip offered her a high five, which she gladly reciprocated with a laugh. She was surprised by the pride which coursed through her at having finally beaten the course without Sobel screaming at her to start again at least three times per attempt. Maybe they'd make a paratrooper of her yet.
She giggled to herself to think it, and shrugged when Skip shot her a questioning look. She was saved by the arrival of Ramirez and Talbert, both of whom acknowledged her success with warm smiles and firm pats on the back.
"Nice one, Duckie," Tab said. He came to stand behind her and watched the men behind him work their way through the course.
"Finally beat that damn wall," she joked, watching Malarkey complain his way across the tires. "And it only took me - what? - two hundred attempts?"
"Better late than never," Tab replied with a laugh. He nudged her shoulder with his own and cheered as Liebgott jogged over to join them.
"I just got my fuckin' weekend pass revoked," Liebgott grumbled as he neared them.
"Why?" Posey asked. Tab only laughed.
"Threw pig guts at Luz," Liebgott replied. "I didn't realise Sobel was standing right fuckin' there."
"What did Luz say?" Tab asked with a grin as the man himself approached.
Liebgott smirked. "He threw 'em back."
"Can't believe I got my fuckin' weekend pass revoked," Luz remarked as he came to stand by them himself. "Fuckin' pig guts."
"I don't know how you can be bothered to go out after the Friday night marches anyway," Posey put in, chuckling to herself. The twelve mile marches in the pitch black every Friday night, in full pack as well, had been yet another evil added to their training after designations had gone out. After the first one, Posey had been more grateful than ever for her 745; she only had to carry her M1 as a weapon, whilst Luz had to carry a full radio strapped to his back along with it. Small victories.
"Yeah, well, you're a lightweight," Liebgott said.
Posey hit punched him gently in the ribs as she rolled her eyes.
As soon as the rest of Second Platoon had finished the course and joined them on the grass clearing, Sobel approached with dark eyes. "Pathetic," he started. He turned to Winters. "Lieutenant Winters, order Second Platoon to make their way back to barracks. I want them in full pack ready to run Currahee in the next fifteen minutes."
"Sir," Winters replied with a nod. When Sobel turned to walk away he turned to address the platoon, "Second Platoon, you have fifteen minutes to head back to the barracks, get into full pack, and gather at the bottom of Currahee."
"Yes, sir!" they chanted back at him. He gave them a nod and they dispersed.
Upon getting back to the barracks, they all hurried around their bunk spaces to get into full pack.
"Fuckin' Currahee," Perconte grumbled as he battled to get his ODs over his jump boots.
"Fuckin' Sobel," Guarnere corrected, already buttoning his up.
"How 'bout we all shut the fuck up and get our gear on," Johnny snapped from where he was putting his helmet on. "Last thing we need is to be late 'cause no one can keep their fuckin' mouths shut."
"Aw, come on, Johnny, he ain't here, you ain't gotta sing his praises," Perconte said, finally managing to get his ODs over his boots.
"Shut up and pull your trousers up, Perconte, alright?" Johnny replied with his signature scowl. "Jesus."
Posey covered her giggle with a forced cough.
Whilst the men continued to grumble, argue, and complain, Posey made quick work of getting her pack on. She strapped her M1 and placed her helmet on and was one of the first ready - she did have extensive experience in changing fast these days, after all.
"See, even Wells is ready before you," Johnny told Perconte when he noticed her standing by the door.
"What do you mean 'even Wells'?!" Posey exclaimed.
"Alright, lets go!" Johnny called out to the barracks. He didn't answer her question but he was smirking as he jogged past her to lead the way out the door.
"Fuckin' radio," Luz huffed out in the middle of their run up Currahee. He removed one hand from his gun to wipe the sweat off his brow and let out another huff in the process. "I ain't sweated so much in my life."
"Fuckin' radio?" Liebgott echoed with a scoff from Posey's other side. "Try carryin' a machine gun."
"Half a machine gun," Posey corrected with a grin. "Christenson has the other half."
"Shut up, Duckie," Liebgott retorted. "With your fuckin' gun and that's it."
"Should've been better at shooting, Lieb," she quipped with a short laugh.
"Shoulda been a damn medic," Liebgott mustered out. "Ain't that right, Roe?"
"Sure," Roe replied. He didn't make to add anything else.
Luz scoffed. "You? A medic? God help us."
"Hey, why don't you make yourself useful for once, Luz?" Liebgott said. "Sing us a song."
"Don't need to ask me twice."
And thus began the classic means of moralisation when running Currahee.
"We pull upon the risers," Luz began.
Immediately, everyone joined in.
"We fall upon the grass.
We never land upon our feet,
We always hit our ass.
Highty-tighty, Christ almighty,
Who the hell are we?
Zim-zam, goddamn, we're Airborne Infantry!"
The song played over and over again in Posey's head long after they'd finished running Currahee, and even into the night march. In the quiet of the night, the only sounds being the chirping of crickets and the rhythmic stomp of boots on gravel, at least the lyrics gave her something to focus on beyond how tired she was, and how thirsty, too. Curse Sobel for forbidding them to drink from their canteens. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her lips beginning to crack with how much dry dirt and sand was being kicked up by their feet on the path.
"I'm gonna say something," Bull spoke up suddenly from the row in front of her.
"To who?" Luz retorted from beside him.
Bull glanced down at Luz but didn't reply. Instead, he pitched his voice to call out, "Lieutenant Winters!"
"What is it?" Winters called back.
"Permission to speak, sir."
"Permission granted."
"Sir, we got nine companies, sir," Bull began, keeping his eyes set firmly forward on the man in front of him.
"We do," Winters replied simply.
"So how come we're the only company marching every Friday night, twelve miles, full pack, in the pitch dark?"
Posey glanced up from the man in front of her in an attempt to spot Winters and gauge his reaction to such a brazen statement.
"Why do you think, Private Randleman?" was all Winters said. He didn't turn around or make any sign that he was even mildly surprised or unhappy with the comment. Posey smiled to herself to think it. Winters really was one of them.
Bull didn't miss a beat with his response. "Lieutenant Sobel hates us, sir."
Posey giggled to herself but strained to hear what Winters would say to that.
Winters slowed down in his step until he was level with Bull's row. When he was, he spared the man a single glance before stating, "Lieutenant Sobel does not hate Easy Company, Private Randleman." He paused, making Posey wonder whether that was all he had to say. Winters, however, surprised her when he added, "He just hates you."
His voice was so matter-of-fact, so nonchalant, that Posey couldn't make to hide her laugh before it had already bubbled out of her. She wasn't alone, though; the comment received various scattered laughs from various men as Bull replied with an enthusiastic, "Thank you, sir!"
"He hates you too, Luz," someone added.
Posey giggled before Tab bumped her with a gentle elbow to her ribs. "He hates you too, Duckie."
Posey laughed. "Yeah, the feeling's mutual."