So, here they are, sitting in a plane, heading for Normandy. Sisk, Grant,
Bull, Liebgott Joe and Webster among many others. The mood is tense,
expectant which is no wonder and there seems to be no such thing as a
comfortable position to sit in. Hands tap, legs tap, even heads tap against
the round walls every once in a while. Webster stares at the floor like he
can already see Krauts aiming at the plane, at him.
"Hey.. Hey, you okay, buddy?"
A familiar voice that seems to come from another time and place, until
there's someone grabbing at his shoulder as if to shake him awake.
"Web, you okay?"
When Webster finally recognizes the voice, he turns towards the source,
Liebgott.
"Yeah."
Webster nods reassuringly and continues.
"Yeah. Must be those air sickness pills Doc gave us."
"Yeah, same here."
Liebgott makes a face, holding his stomach.
"Well, better be a bit sick than nervous in the service, right?"
Liebgott's attempt at making a joke is admirable, Webster thinks, especially
in a situation like this. He looks at Liebgott with a lopsided grin.
"Yeah, I guess so."
Webster just isn't really sure which one is really wrong with him the
pills or the nervousness but he isn't going to say that to Liebgott. He
sighs and his mouth feels unusually dry. Webster bends to look for his
canteen. When he straightens up, he catches a glimpse of Malarkey in the
corner of his eye. A grinning Malarkey, who seems to be looking at him.
"Good one, Joe," Malarkey yells against the noise of the motors. "Gotta
remember that one!"
Liebgott is still grinning when Webster glances at him. When Malarkey grabs
his shoulder, he turns his gaze again.
"When we get out of here, Webster here can collect all those wisdoms of
yours into a book and publish em. Right, pal?"
This doesn't strike Webster as funny.
"Yeah, sure," he answers with a bored tone, feeling left out of the joke.
II.
So, here they are in combat. Or were. Ever since Liebgott jumped out of the
plane and hit the ground, he'd been firing at the enemy this time, the
real enemy, this was no manoeuvre anymore at regular intervals. His first
day of real combat was over and he was sitting in the back of an army truck,
and then he just couldn't take the suffocating air anymore. He had to get
out, and Malarkey's loud fart gave him the opportunity of doing so without
further questions. He heard Guarnere mumbling something after him, but
couldn't care less.
Liebgott didn't have to wander long between the trucks and buildings until
he found another familiar face.
"Web, hey."
Webster was leaning against one of the countless trucks parked along the
town roads, drawing deep lungfuls of smoke. He coughed at the sight of
Liebgott maybe that last breath was too much after all.
"Hey," Webster finally replied in between coughs.
"Survived D-Day, huh? How was your D-plus-one?"
Liebgott nudged Webster on the side, indicating that he was expecting
Webster to hand him a smoke. Webster glanced at Liebgott, digging a pack of
smokes from his jacket pocket, then handing it out for Liebgott to grab one.
"A bit of gunfire while trying to get my ass here without getting killed."
Digging out a lighter, he continued.
"Not much else. You?"
Having gotten his smoke lit by Webster, Liebgott drew a deep breath,
enjoying the nicotine.
"Captured three enemy guns. Well, not by myself, I just gave covering fire,"
he replied with a loose tone, grinning.
It was a known fact that Liebgott liked to brag he liked to live up to
that specific fact and thus he didn't even try to cover up his enjoyment
of the situation.
"That's.. great. Good for you. Saw some real action. Wish I could've been
there."
Liebgott didn't fail to notice Webster's dry, cold tone. His grin
disappeared and his annoyance that had already diminished to near
nothingness immediately rose to its peak.
"Christ, Web. Just trying to answer your question. Don't have to get all fed
up about it. Jesus.."
Liebgott turned away from Webster, took a deep breath from his smoke,
glanced at Webster and took off just as Webster was trying to say something.
"Fuck.." Liebgott cursed silently as he passed trucks, soldiers, colonels
that he should have saluted but didn't, just taking deep breaths from his
smoke and not stopping until he noticed he'd already reached the outskirts
of the small town.
III.
How long has it been since they jumped? A week? No, more than that. A month?
Less. The 'how long' doesn't really matter, but the 'how much'. How much
he's seen.
He's got a souvenir; a red Nazi flag.
He's seen one of his friends lose the other side of his face, seen the torn
legs as well. He remembers holding Tipper, trying to calm him down. He's
sorry Tipper's gone but at least Tipper got an early ticket home instead of
having to wait and see if he survives the war, like the rest of them.
He's seen another friend get a bayonet in his gut, thanks to a sleeping
lineman. Of course he's still glad Talbert's back already. The boy from
Kokomo is tougher than Liebgott first thought.
But there is one thing Liebgott has been missing this whole time since their
first jump into war: Webster. He's not sure if he expected Web to survive
the jump and find his way to battalion, but he doesn't hope anymore. After
seeing Webster back at battalion, he gave up hope, so as to "function like a
soldier's supposed to function". Yeah, they've all heard Speirs's wisdom,
either from the officer himself or from some other soldier during guard duty
or such like. Still only a few of them have actually internalised it.
Liebgott had no problem at that. Might as well do some good around here
instead of just waiting to get back home - or die.
Whenever he has time for sleeping, he tries not to think about any of it:
not the fighting, not home and certainly not Webster. Because if Liebgott
knows any hope, it's all placed on seeing his friend again some day. Joe
doesn't know why, out of all the friends he has in the company, Webster
seems to matter the most to him.
IV.
He's in Randleman's squad now, with Hoobler and the new guys and Cobb, not
many others, no Liebgott. He wonders what will happen next. He's already got
blood on his hands van Klinken's blood and their squad leader's missing.
Van Klinken's dead and Hoobler.. He has never seen Hoob so nervous.
Hoobler's usually the one who knows what's going on and now that he doesn't
know, it's unnerving Webster as well.
The whole squad sits in the dark of the night until Guarnere approaches
Hoobler asking for information, of course, what else? "There ain't no
body, then there ain't nobody fucking dead." It would be so easy to believe
that if it weren't for Meehan no body, but the man had been declared dead.
Easy's on its third CO and of course they're hoping to keep Winters. He's
good, and the boys want their CO to stay.
It takes a moment for Webster to realize what's happening. Hoobler and the
new guys minus one are already on the move. "Oh, what the hell.." And he
rushes after them, hears Cobb joining them after a few moments.
They wander around in the darkness, following the road along the ditch.
German soldiers pass them on a tank only a couple of feet away and none of
them makes a sound. Webster has never been so scared in his life and he
starts thinking about the Dear Babe' letter. He smiles at the memory of
Guarnere telling the story to the new guys when there still were three of
them in their squad with the "bing-and-a-bang-and-a-boom" and comparing
that to the memory of the actual event, guys bumping into each other and
Heffron there, just staring at the pin-up. He doesn't make a sound, but
Hoobler has to knock on his helmet a couple of time more than usual before
he realizes it's time to move. Webster collects himself and, crouching,
follows Hoobler.
Suddenly Webster is hit by a thought: Would Liebgott do anything this
stupid?
V.
Fuck. He's sitting in the back of a truck that he has no idea where it's
headed but another thing he does know is that he's freezing his ass off.
A lot has happened since that neck wound he got somewhere in Holland. He
doesn't even remember where, just that it was dark and he was talking to
Alley and the next thing he knew or actually felt was something digging
into the side of his neck, something dark seeping onto his hand when he
touched the itching wound, then a loud explosion and Alley was down.
Then there was.. what came then? He remembers a moist cloth wrapped around
his neck, broad daylight, dead Germans all over an open field. An entire
company of SS troops. He's holding his rifle and shooting.
Why was he shooting again? He doesn't have time to think about that when
there's a voice in his memory. Winters wanted him to take the prisoners back
to battalion. "Let's go, Kraut boys." Left him only one bullet. Like he'd be
so stupid as to actually shoot the prisoners.
Still, he's glad when Sisk decides to join him on the way back to battalion.
He won't admit it, but with one bullet, he feels fear creeping into the back
of his mind, and he really would like some company.
"Did you hear about Webster yet?"
What? Webster? This was something he really wanted to hear.
"What? What's the guy done now?"
His tone was only questioning no trace of impatience.
"Got hit. Patched him up about twenty minutes ago maybe. Was limping back to
battalion."
A slight hesitation before the question.
"So he got hit in the leg?"
"Yeah. Lucky bastard."
"Yeah, lucky Harvard boy."
Liebgott sighs and wraps his coat tighter around him.
"You alright, Joe?"
Malarkey's sitting next to him, pressing close to his side. Liebgott's not
sure if this is to share warmth or just because there's not much room in the
small space, but he doesn't mind.
"Yeah, just freezing my ass off like everyone else."
The next minute Suerth Junior becomes the center of attention, and Liebgott
asks him for a coat.
"Shut up about the coat!"
Liebgott grins a bit. Suerth Junior isn't carrying an extra coat, but he's
carrying smokes. They'll do, for now.
VI.
He was sitting in their foxhole with Alley, singing, when Roe came to ask
for syrettes. Alley made some remark about Roe using the morphine himself.
Somehow, Liebgott wouldn't have been surprised if the medic actually had
done so. He didn't know then and still doesn't what the medic had seen
but he was sure it would've been enough to push anyone over the limit.
It's Christmas Eve and he's heard about Roe a dozen times already, about how
he takes his time to appear when there's a call for a medic. He wasn't
surprised the first time, and he isn't surprised the fourteenth or sixteenth
time whatever, he lost count somewhere after the sixth time.
It gets to a guy no matter if you'd volunteered to be a medic because
it's different at war. You'll never see the same kind of wounds nor will you
hear the same kind of pain in the voices of the casualties than you will at
war.
It's Christmas Eve and Alley's there. Still Liebgott feels like he always
feels when he's alone and still surrounded by people. His thoughts take him
back to Holland, back to his wounded friends, some of which will return and
some who won't. His thoughts once again lead to Webster, about how he
heard about Web from Sisk. Before that he only caught a glimpse of Webster
following Martin into combat.
How long had it been since that last glance? A month, he supposes. He draws
a pack from his pocket Saint Luz has been at work and he smiles a bit as
he lights his smoke. Webster will come back. This Christmas smoke - he
smiles at the thought, having turned away from Alley who's, gladly, falling
fast asleep he smokes for Webster, and his return.
VII.
And then, suddenly it's a whole new year. They had been surrounding Foy for
what seemed like a small eternity and then finally, they had attacked.
He's in Foley's squad now, with that new guy called Webb. It was funny how
every time someone called for Webb, Liebgott was always expecting to see
Webster. He was amused and yet, a bit disappointed at how much of a
difference one single letter could make. Not Web, but Webb. He doesn't hear
that anymore since Webb became a sniper victim.
They've settled for the night in this nice church, with a choir singing to
them Liebgott thinks he's never heard anything as beautiful as this and
candles lighting the place. He likes it; it's small but not crowded, and
even if the benches are made of wood, they're still better than even the
thought of once again leaning on the side of a dirty foxhole, hoping for
sleep that won't come. At least here, it's warm, and the singing makes it
all better. Liebgott could settle for just this, but he knows he's missing
something.
It's not Toye or Guarnere. Maybe if he was Buck, but he isn't. It's not Muck
or Penkala either. Maybe if he was Malarkey, but he isn't.
He thinks about Buck, how everyone noticed how he had changed since being in
the hospital. He wonders if Webster will have changed as much when he comes
back. If that hospital where he's been for at least two months already has
changed Webster like a shorter time had changed Buck.
Liebgott's afraid but he won't show it. He's afraid that Webster will come
back more serious than ever. There's enough changed men in the company
already.
VIII.
Still, somehow, his fear of it doesn't stop Liebgott from expecting a
different Webster. It's surprising how little Webster has actually changed.
He's still the Toccoa guy he used to be, but that isn't enough anymore.
When he sees Webster approach the truck, he quickly turns his gaze away. He
thinks he's hallucinating, but then there's Webster's voice, unmistakably
cheery. Webster asks after friends he doesn't even know he's already lost.
Then Liebgott hardly even realizes he's doing it, it's just his nature.
"Must've liked that hospital, cause uh, we left Holland four months ago."
He's missed Web a lot, but now that he's back, Liebgott's just bitter that
Webster didn't go AWOL, like so many others did, but hell if he's going to
show it. Webster had made him wait, and now he's treating Webster like a
replacement, just like the rest of the platoon. Webster isn't part of the
platoon yet and if he wants to be, he's going to have to do something for
it. It's an unspoken deal; everyone agrees, even if none of them says it out
loud. Webster has to prove himself to them, has to prove that he's not just
another replacement even if some of them have known him since Toccoa.
They've lost too many guys already, and it's the same treatment for every
new guy a first-timer or not. If you get attached to every new guy you
meet, you'll find out it won't take long until only a few are left and then
you realize it's not really even worth it.
"What's the matter there, Webster? Nervous in the service?"
Liebgott grins as he hears Malarkey use one of his remarks to Web from
before, sort of rubs it in, and Malarkey doesn't even really know why it
hits Webster so bad.
---
He's not surprised when Webster appears to the out post with some young
lieutenant. Webster takes the top bunk over Ramirez. Liebgott takes a sip of
his coffee and listens to the new guy and Malarkey, pretending like he
isn't. He doesn't like what he's hearing. At this point when they say
neither side wants to take unnecessary risks, of course they want to send
out a patrol. He takes Webster by the collar of his jacket and walks him
over to the bunks. Webster must know something, since he came with the
lieutenant. Grant, Heffron and McClung join to listen.
At the same time, as the new lieutenant tells Malarkey, they hear it from
Webster. "Your secret's safe, Web," Liebgott assures him. Liebgott might've
even stayed quiet, but he can't control other people and so it's not his
fault Heffron and McClung blow Webster's cover. It's part of the treatment;
you take it until you prove you're not just another replacement. Liebgott
feels a bit guilty Webster is his friend, after all but hasn't got time
to think about that since there's that familiar noise again and they rush
downstairs into the basement.
Just when they've shoved themselves under the table Webster and him the
noise stops and a full layer of dust covers Malarkey. They laugh and
Liebgott looks at Webster, smiling. Webster first looks a bit confused but
breaks into a smile, when he looks at Liebgott. Again Liebgott feels that
sting of guilt, but there's also this other feeling he's not sure he's
supposed to have: he likes Webster's smile.
The next minute they're heading for the showers. Liebgott gets in line,
tells Webster to do the same, but Webster isn't coming.
---
He sits on a stool, listening to Luz and the various conversations taking
place around him. He stares intently at a Hershey bar and when Perco
appears, he snatches one, shoves it in his jacket pocket. He grins at Martin
and Perco's interaction and then, sees a chance. He doesn't really know what
this chance of his is but he takes it.
Luz waits for Webster to take the box "any day now, Web" and Web grabs
the box. Liebgott grabs his arm, feels the muscles through the thin fabric.
"You been workin' out?" He doesn't get an answer, since Luz is almost out
the door and Webster's not far behind.
He leaves soon after succeeding in capturing a couple of Hershey bars and
some smokes as well and returns to OP2. He lies down for a while to catch
some sleep and wakes up when Jackson pokes him in the ribs.
The briefing doesn't last long, and after the officers leave, he turns to
Jackson. "His German's as good as mine." Then he turns his head just in time
to see Webster rushing out and that sting of guilt is back. He stands up and
puts his helmet back on before stepping outside. He gets out and stops as
Grant makes some remark about Webster that he doesn't quite catch, but still
nods in agreement. He watches Webster approach the officers and as he passes
them on his way back to the out post, he's dismissed from the patrol.
"Thanks, buddy," he winks at Webster who just nods back.
---
He's lying in his bunk, trying to get some sleep, but is unable to do that.
There isn't much time to sleep anyway so he gives up and just lies there,
trying not to think. He can't think now that Webster's back, because
everything he thinks about will ultimately lead to Webster. Even when they
gathered to get some warm grub in their bellies, he ate without even really
tasting the stuff which was probably only a good thing and stared at
Webster's back.
Then suddenly there's Heffron telling him to get up. He's not going with
them, so he's left to wait on this side of the river for the whistle blow.
That's his mark to open fire and he lets the MG-42 sing its own noisy song.
He's pushed away thoughts about anything that's happened before the patrol
and focuses on this moment, focuses on Webster. The last boat falls over and
Skinny's making a noise. Liebgott grins a bit and focuses on Webster again,
tries to see where the soldier has disappeared.
When the group leaves the German out post, they're carrying someone. He
can't tell who it is and he gets agitated, impatient and frustrated. "Jesus
Christ, blow the goddamn whistle!" And when it actually does happen as if by
his command, it takes a second to register that it's his turn. He's got a
job to do, give suppressing fire. He does his work, but after the final
shots are fired, he's actually a bit scared to return to the OP to gain the
information about the wounded guy.
---
He waits for the news and when he hears about Jackson, he feels both relief
and guilt. He'd known the guy for a while now and he was a part of their
platoon. Of course it hurt to lose another guy, even if they had gained one
Toccoa guy.
He lies on Webster's bunk and waited for the man to return. He wants to make
sure Webster's okay, and doesn't even care who knows or notices.
Malarkey brought the news about Jackson and soon after, Webster appears,
announcing the same.
"Jackson's dead."
"Yeah, we heard."
He takes a deep breath from his smoke and sighs. No one really sleeps that
night, and the next day they hear about a second patrol. Since Jackson got
wounded in action and died later on their side of the river Liebgott
fills his place. This time he isn't an extra in the group of fifteen men,
again ready to head for action. Then Winters says it. They'll report in the
morning and that's it, no patrol tonight. Tomorrow they'll move off the
line. Best news he's heard in weeks.
That night he still can't catch sleep as easily as he'd like to, but he's
used to getting two to three hours of sleep, so at least he won't be tired
tomorrow, even if he'd for once like to use the night for actual sleeping.
The next day they pack their gear and move to the trucks. Webster's the last
one in their platoon to get to the truck, and he's surprised when Liebgott
extends a hand out to him. He looks into Web's eyes "take it" and
Webster grabs it, just in time.
Webster missed Bastogne and Bastogne changed these guys, and something makes
Liebgott think that if Webster hadn't come back as his old self, they might
not have treated him like a replacement.
IX.
They're housed in one of the buildings in the village. Liebgott's sitting on
the stairs, trying to forget what he saw earlier that day. He can still hear
their cries and his heart shatters all over again. If he'd lived here, he
would've been one of them.
He doesn't usually cry much, but now he can't hold the tears inside. He
doesn't realize he's holding a breath until he hears a noise behind him
someone coming down the stairs that makes him flinch and he takes a deep
breath and wipes his tears on his sleeve. He sighs and turns to look at
Webster who's settled next to him on the narrow stairs.
"You okay?"
Liebgott nods, swallowing.
"Ye.. Yeah."
His voice is weak and he hates it.
"I heard you."
He stiffens at Webster's words.
"You heard me what?"
Of course he knows exactly what Web's talking about but he won't admit it
and sticks to the silent voice.
"Crying."
Liebgott sighs again, uttering a silent "fuck" as he turns towards the wall.
"I know today was tough for you."
Liebgott leans against the wall and stifles a snort.
"Tough? Yeah, you could say tough. Except it was a whole lot worse."
His voice quivers but he doesn't care.
"I mean, Jesus, Web.. What they did to those people.. Fuck.."
He turns to Webster and his gaze stops on Web's shoulder which has suddenly
started looking like a real haven for his head. Again, he's holding a breath
without realizing it and when Webster's strong arm not that Liebgott's is
much skinnier comes to rest around him and squeezes his shoulder, he
almost chokes. He coughs and without thinking presses his head against
Webster's shoulder. He lets a smile creep on his face and in his mind
finally forgives Webster for the times he wasn't there when Liebgott needed
him.
For once, Webster is exactly where Liebgott wants and needs him to be; here,
being there for his comfort.
X.
"Were you at Landsbergh?"
Webster can't believe he's hearing this. He understood when Joe needed
comfort after Landsbergh, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting it to become
this blood thirst, this quest of revenge.
"You know I was."
He stares into Liebgott's eyes until Joe breaks the eye contact. They enter
the hut fast; Liebgott goes straight to the officer, and Sisk and Webster
check the other rooms.
He can't watch this. He steps outside and digs for his lighter and a smoke.
Goddammit, his hands are shaking, and he inhales the smoke sharply,
coughing. He flinches as the door creaks open.
"He's guilty."
Sisk.
"Liebgott says so."
He doesn't know why Sisk came along, why Sisk's there.
"He probably is."
Then again, Webster doesn't even know what he's doing here either. And then
they both flinch as they hear an individual gunshot. The German officer runs
out the door, Liebgott not far behind him.
"Shoot him."
Liebgott's gun jams.
"Shoot him!"
"No."
Did he come to stop this? At least he isn't going to help.
They watch as the officer runs up the hill, and then, following a loud shot
from a rifle, he's down. They both turn to look at Webster.
"Nice shot!"
Just what he'd expect from Joe. Of course Liebgott's happy with the outcome.
The officer's dead; that was his goal.
He turns away from Liebgott and Sisk and heads back to the jeep.
"Goddammit," he mutters under his breath. He knew Sisk was a good shot from
before, but now wasn't really the time he wanted to see Skinny's skills. He
had neither helped nor stopped the situation. There was nothing he could do
now.
He sits by the driver's side and draws a couple of deep breaths from his
smoke before tossing it.
