Half Sick of Shadows » Band of Brothers [2]

02: To Be Somebody Else

"I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else." - Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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Nixon led the team of spies in and all Juliette could hear was a collective gasp. The paratroopers of Easy Company who had known them for months under different names and with different occupations were now being told that these four incredibly normal people had been spies the entire time.

As the four of them came to stand in front of the mass of paratroopers, who seemed a lot more in number now that she was seeing them altogether, Juliette sought out Eugene Roe in amongst the crowd. The one person who had already known. When their eyes finally met he offered her a small smile, though his incredulity was written plainly on his face. This made her want to laugh, so she looked away, but he had definitely succeeded in easing her nerves, even if he hadn't been trying.

Juliette avoided eye contact with the other Americans she was better acquainted with at all costs, too anxious that when she looked into their eyes she'd find disgust or resentment. Instead, she looked to Nixon as he introduced them.

"This is the team of spies you'll be jumping with, they'll be scattered among the planes. From right to left - that is, your right to left - we have Thomas, Juliette, William, and Martin. You're not allowed to know their last names so don't ask." He shot a stern look out into the crowd and listened to them all echo back a 'Yes, sir,' before continuing. "I'll pass you over to their CO." Then he nodded to Thomas and moved aside.

Juliette shot Tom a reassuring smile right before he stepped forwards. He made his way to the centre of the space that had been cleared for whoever was lecturing. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak, projecting his voice and commanding attention, though with the fact that Tom had been friends with basically every single soldier present they were hardly willing to pay attention to anything else.

"The nature of our work is top secret," he began, scanning the crowd quickly to make sure everyone was listening to him, "so there are some guidelines you need to follow. Number one: do not ask us our surnames, code names, or any other aliases we may go by or have gone by in the past. It's not necessary for you to know, so you won't. Number two: do not, I repeat do not, ask us about our work, that includes what we're doing in Normandy and any jobs we've done in the past. That information is so far above your security clearance you could be shot for even asking for it. So don't.

"Number three: don't ask us about our training. Plain and simple. We're not allowed to tell you. And finally, and perhaps most importantly," he paused, to let them know the gravitas of this final one, "number four: do not tell anyone you have come into contact with Allied spies. Don't include it in your letters home, don't tell your family in person if you get to visit home, and don't tell anyone else you feel like blabbing to. You'll be executed for it."

Tom paused, letting the room take in everything he'd said. Once he was certain they had, he continued, "Breaking any of these rules will be seen as undermining the war effort, and will be recognised as treason. There will be no court martial, no trial, and no final letters home. Is that understood?"

The crowd all replied, "Yes, sir," in their standard monotone, and Jules had to suppress a smile. She had known it was common practise, but calling her commanding officers 'sir' was such a strange concept it was also absurd to hear anyone else do it; Thomas wasn't a 'sir', he was just 'Tom', just like Alexis had just been 'Alex'. Distantly, she wondered whether the Americans would have to start calling her 'ma'am'. The thought of it made her want to laugh.

"Good," Tom said with a nod, skimming his eyes over the crowd once more before declaring, "That's all."

Nixon nodded to them and they left through the same entrance they'd come in through. As soon as the door had shut behind them they took one look at each other and burst out into giggles, hands pressed firmly to their mouths to keep the noise down. It was all just too absurd.

They tried desperately to calm themselves down. When they heard Lieutenant Meehan dismiss the enlisted men they all pressed their ears against the door, Martin at the top, and then Tom, then Will, and with Jules crouched at the bottom. They were desperate to get some impression of what the Americans' first reactions would be, and in order to exit the tent the would have to walk past this door.

"What the fuck," seemed to be the most commonly uttered words, or various variations of it.

The unmistakable voice of Bill Guarnere walked past exclaiming, "That was fuckin' Henry?!" which made Jules giggle; Henry had been Thomas' fake name back when they'd been undercover in Aldbourne.

And then Floyd Talbert walked past. Jules had to press her lips into a firm line to keep from laughing. "Ah fuck!" they heard him exclaim to someone. "I used my 'I need someone to write to' line on her. That's so fucking embarrassing."

A laugh so badly wanted to explode out of her, but she'd break their cover if it did.

There were various other comical exclamations as the paratroopers filed out of the room, and they were so unintentionally hilarious that by the end of it the group had had to resign themselves to stopping listening.

Eventually, Nixon came back into the room, and he was wearing that cheeky grin of his.

"Would they really be shot if they asked you questions about your work?" he wondered with a quirk of his thick eyebrows. He was looking mainly to Thomas, as he had been the one who'd said it.

Thomas laughed, and Martin answered for him, "Out of pure irritation, perhaps."

"They really aren't allowed to know," Tom amended, though Nixon seemed to find it all terribly amusing.

The intelligence officer took another sip from his flask as he looked between the four of them. After a small while, he nodded to himself, taking another sip before he smiled. "You know what? I think you four are gonna fit in just fine."

Juliette hoped he would be proven right. She smiled to herself as she leaned back in her chair, the majority of her nerves having disappeared now that the news was broken.

They would still have to talk to them in person, however, and that was a lingering, frightening thought that she couldn't help but mull over. None of the yanks had sounded particularly angry, but they had definitely all been shocked. She wondered whether they'd be willing to accept them for a second time, and mainly, whether they'd be able to trust them again after being told they'd been lied to spectacularly.

She shared a look with the others, who all seemed to be in varying states of internal conflict, likely about the exact same thing that was plaguing her. Nixon tore their attention away from each other after watching silently from the corner, a small smirk on his lips.

"Well," he began with a raise of his eyebrows,
"do you wanna go and meet the men? As yourselves this time, I mean."

Jules chuckled quietly to herself and got to her feet just as the others all did. They would have to do it eventually, she supposed, so why not now?

They filed out of the tent in the same order they had entered the lecture theatre in, with Tom at the front and Martin at the back, and headed straight for the men's barracks.