The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

118: All Over Again

Charlie couldn't sleep. Christmas Eve was always a hard night - that was, it had been hard since the Christmas Eve of 1944. So much blood, so much fire, so much ash. Every time she closed her eyes she could hear the screaming, the roar of flames, the rumble of collapsing buildings. Could see terrified faces swimming before her eyes, begging her to get them out of the burning church.

It had been such a terrible night - more than terrible. Agonising. All of that death and horror. It wasn't right. It had no place in the world, especially not on Christmas Eve, and yet now it was an inescapable part of the holidays for Charlie; the ghosts followed her more closely, the screams echoed more loudly, the cold crept in more fiercely.

At home, she simply didn't go to sleep. She'd stay up late with the lamp on, reading. But there was no lamp in the room she was currently staying in, and she didn't want anyone to see the main light spilling out from under her door if they got up to go to the bathroom.

So, with a book she had to read for school in hand, Charlie eased the door open and tiptoed out into the hallway as quietly as she could, then closed it with a soft click behind her. Getting down the stairs was more difficult - there was so much creaking, and every noise sounded as loud as an explosion in the silence of the night - but eventually Charlie found herself in the deserted living room. Pulling the knitted throw blanket off of the back of one of the sofas, Charlie wrapped herself up in it and switched on the lamp on the small coffee table between this sofa and the next. She sat down and got herself comfortable, then opened the book to the page her bookmark stuck out of and began to read.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes before the creaking of the staircase told her someone was coming.

Charlie held her breath.

There was no point in switching the lamp off now and trying to hide in the shadows - whoever it was would already be able to see the light. She could only hope that it was Floyd, who would understand her seeking refuge, and not anyone else.

Charlie breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Floyd rounded the corner. He was carrying Rosie in his arms, fighting against her as she squirmed, and he didn't look all that surprised to find Charlie down here.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked quietly.

Charlie shook her head.

"I'm just taking Rosie outside to go to the bathroom," he said, inclining his head down towards the wriggling puppy in his arms.

Charlie mustered a small smile and nodded. He nodded back and then continued through to the kitchen, where Charlie knew the door to the backyard was.

Floyd and Rosie re-emerged a few minutes later, with the latter looking much more settled. Her squirming had ceased and now she rested quietly in Floyd's arms, looking like she was going to fall asleep any second. Instead of taking her back upstairs, however, Floyd set her down on the armchair in the corner. Once she was settled and asleep, he turned and came to sit beside Charlie on the sofa adjacent.

The two of them remained silent for a while. Charlie wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Floyd was staring at the curtains and Charlie was pretending to read, and the quiet on the air was disturbed only by Rosie's soft snores.

Floyd looked over at Charlie suddenly and her first thought was that she was glad she'd thought to pack a proper set of pyjamas since she'd assumed she'd be travelling overnight. Her second thought was that her first thought was stupid; Floyd had seen her in all states of undress and probably wouldn't have thought anything of it had she been wearing just her slip.

He didn't say anything, just watched her, and it took a moment for Charlie to realise that he thought she didn't notice. He didn't realise she was only pretending to read; if she had actually been reading she knew she wouldn't have noticed him at all.