All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

13: Numbers

After all of the suspense and anticipation, the designations ended up simply being printed on three sheets of paper, one per platoon, and pinned to one of the walls of the mess hall. Posey wouldn't have noticed them there at all had Shifty from First Platoon, eagle eyed as he was, not pointed them out upon Second Platoon's arrival.

"Designations are posted up on that wall," he informed them in his soft Southern drawl as they made their way from the queue for food to their usual tables.

Suddenly, all Monday-morning lethargy had dissipated. A wave of men rushed to throw their trays down onto whatever table was closest in order to head straight to the lists. However, what they found was not necessarily what they were expecting.

"1607?!" Malarkey called out as soon as he'd gotten over there. "What the fuck is 1607?!"

"Yeah, I got that too!" Skip added.

"NCO!" Talbert cried out, his eyes trained on his own designation. "Non-commissioned officer, right? Does that make me a sergeant?"

"What's your number, Tab?" Posey asked him from the back of the crowd as he waded his way out of the fray. She wasn't close enough yet to find her own name.

"745," he replied.

"That's a rifleman," she told him. "Congrats!"

"Hey! Duckie!" Skip sidled up beside her and asked, "You know what these numbers mean?"

She shrugged. "Some of them."

"1607 ring any bells?"

Posey laughed a little bit. "Sorry. I can't help you there."

"Fuck," Malarkey cursed under his breath from behind him.

"Fuck this," Liebgott muttered from Posey's other side. Then, louder, he said, "Why the fuck are you taking so long?! Come on, move it!" He punctuated his words with a few pushes to the backs of the men in front of them, though all it served to do was irritate those men, who weren't even at the front themselves.

"NCO!" Guarnere cheered above the noise. "Ha! I'm a fuckin' sergeant!"

"Brilliant," Posey grumbled to herself. "Last thing I need is to be in his squad."

Luz appeared beside her, having taken the place of Skip and Malarkey. He laughed at her comment. "Hey, maybe you'll be an NCO too!"

Posey couldn't suppress her giggle. "Me? Sure. I have about as much chance of being an NCO as I do of beating Bull in hand to hand."

Luz laughed but he didn't deny it.

"What are we hoping for?" he asked instead. He looked between Posey and Liebgott as he awaited an answer.

"745," Posey replied instantly. "Rifleman."

"745," Luz repeated, nodding. "Yeah, I'd be happy with rifleman."

"God, can we move it the fuck along?!" Liebgott demanded once more, crossing his arms. He got up on his tiptoes in an attempt to see who was at the front and draw them back. "Ramirez, you've been at the front for five fucking minutes! Move it!"

"You want me to find your name for you?" Ramirez asked.

"No!" Liebgott shouted back. "I want you to fucking move so I can see it for myself!"

A whole lot of pushing and shoving later, Posey, accompanied by Luz, Liebgott, and Roe - their Currahee row, funnily enough - made it to the front. She made quick work of finding her name on the middle sheet of paper, turning her eyes straight to the bottom and seeking out 'Wells'. The number she found next to it made her grin.