40: Foxhole

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Posey sat on the edge of Carentan, watching the sunset begin to paint the sky orange. Orange wasn't a colour she was fond of - it reminded her of fire, which reminded her of bombs, which reminded her of the Blitz - but this particular hue softened everything. As the dying light settled over the soldiers still reeling from battle, for many of them their very first, the orange served as a reminder that they were the lucky ones who had made it to sunset. There were many men lying back in the town who would have attested to that if they could, Posey was sure.

"Hey. Wells," Johnny called out, behind her all of a sudden. Posey glanced back and offered him a small smile, so he came to sit beside her. "You alright?"

Posey hummed her affirmative. "Yeah," she said, watching the sky again. "Just thinking, I suppose."

"Heard you got hurt," Johnny commented.

She could feel him watching her but didn't turn to look. "Not badly," she replied with a shrug. "Roe sorted me out. I'm staying on the line."

She was expecting an argument she didn't get. In her surprise, Posey turned to look at Johnny and found him watching the sky, too. After a beat, he said, "Let me know if you're struggling, alright? I know you can't go to a hospital but that don't mean you can get yourself killed 'cause you ain't lookin' after yourself."

Posey suppressed a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I will." She paused a while, taking in the sounds of early evening. The chatter of the men gathered nearby floated over to them on the breeze, and every now and again a burst of laughter would fill the air. Posey missed the sound of birds chirping; probably the birds had all been scared away by the battle, but she longed for their singing now. She wasn't quite sure why.

To cover the quiet that didn't feel complete, she asked, "Did you get hurt at all?"

Johnny laughed to himself. He drew out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one silently - which she declined, naturally - before taking one for himself and lighting it. "I'm fine," he replied once the cigarette was in his mouth and he'd taken a puff. "Why do you always refuse the smokes?"

Posey rolled her eyes and turned away from him but a smile tugged at her lips. It wasn't necessarily a happy smile, or at least she wasn't necessarily happy in the present; more, it was a smile of nostalgia, of a happiness she'd felt in the past. Quietly, she explained, "My mum always told me that the only time a lady is allowed to smoke is when she's widowed. And even then, only when she's sitting down. I'm not quite sure why the latter rule exists but I was raised a proper lady, and if my mother wishes me not to smoke unless I'm widowed, then I won't smoke unless I should ever find myself widowed. Also I don't think sitting on the floor counts."

"A proper lady, huh?" Johnny teased, chuckling under his breath. "A proper lady who disguised herself as a boy to join the paratroopers."

In spite of herself, Posey laughed. "Out of necessity. I didn't want to end up in a warzone, remember?" She shook her head. "Guarnere knows now, by the way. About me."

"You told him?"

"I didn't have much of a choice." She fiddled mindlessly at the patch on the arm of her ODs. "He was there when I told Roe I couldn't go to a hospital and he wanted to know why." She paused, awaiting a response that didn't come. Eventually, she added, "I think he'll keep the secret. You trust him, don't you?"

Johnny breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, I trust him. He's just -" His words faltered a moment before he pushed on. "He's a bit of a live wire right now. Just before we jumped he found out that his brother -"

Footsteps behind them cut the interaction short and Posey turned to find Guarnere approaching. She didn't think she'd ever interacted with him more than she had in the previous twelve hours and hoped this would be the last of it; he may have promised he'd keep her secret but that didn't change all that much about their mutual animosity. Not really, anyway. But she had to admit that she was curious about his brother.

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