"Fucking hell."

It sounded like Liebgott as she approached the drinking Easy Company. But she couldn't be sure. As she slipped into the small circle, George stood from the tall table and made room for her.

"Hey beautiful, come here often." George took her hand and kissed it.

Alice laughed to herself. Her head shook in amusement. Quickly she looked at each of the men around her. Guarnere and Toye stood next to each other, faces behind large glasses of beer. To their right stood Malarkey with Skip Muck and Alex Penkala. Bull and Johnny made their way over, chatting. Liebgott stood to George's left with Sisk, intently drinking his alcohol.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Johnny asked her.

Alice paused. "Perhaps a glass of wine, if they have it here?"

He nodded and slipped back to the bar. This left her sitting at her spot at the tall table, self conscious. All she could think about was the color red. The red of her dress, and the red of the dress in January of 1941. The SS officer's blood had been red, but not as scarlet. It had spilled over her hands in a deep sort of crimson, staining them.

"Say somethin' in French," George asked suddenly.

Alice looked at him in confusion. Then she just shrugged. "Pourquoi? Que veux-tu que je dise?" Then she smiled. "Sur mes refuges détruits, sur mes phares écroulés, sur les murs de mon ennui, J'écris ton nom."

"Holy shit." George laughed and leaned against the table with his back. He raised his beer to his mouth. "I could listen to that forever."

Again, she laughed. She rolled her eyes but smiled. "You do not even know what I said. I could've been insulting you."

"I don't care."

Suddenly, a glass of wine was set in front of her. Johnny nodded and then looked around at the handful of men who had been listening. "What'd I miss?"

"Only the most angelic sounds to exist," George told him.

Alice rolled her eyes again. "Thank you... Johnny, no?"

"Johnny Martin." He nodded.

"I believe they are entranced by my French yet again. It is a nice language, but I will always prefer German." Her eyes drifted down to the glass of wine. Red wine. Why did everything have to be red, like blood. She hoped that when she lifted the glass to her lips, that they wouldn't notice her shaking hands. "I have not gotten to talk to many of you. I am curious about your lives. Tell me of the United States."

Guarnere started talking about the city of Philadelphia. He called it Philly, and she could hear the love he held for it in his voice. It made her smile. George went on about his town in Rhode Island soon, and then the others. She found out many of them had lots of siblings. George had ten!

Two hours later, she sipped at her second large glass of wine, a tingling settling in her fingertips and chest. The bar had emptied some, leaving a lot more room for mingling. George, both Joes, Skip Muck, Malarkey, and Guarnere still chatted each other up. Alice listened. She didn't understand everything that was said, as she had learned British English, not American, and some of their words did not make sense.

"How about you, Alice?"

She paused, swallowing a sip of wine. Her heart beat faster. "I am the third of four children. My mother is French, my father is German. My oldest brother Robert is also a Maquis fighter. My little sister Bernadette is still in lycée. I believe that is high school in English?" She trailed off.

"And your other sibling?" asked Bill.

As she raised the glass to her lips, it shook involuntarily. What about him? Lâche! She felt like such a coward. What about him? The last time she'd seen him, he'd been grabbed by the SS. Then she'd heard the gunshot.

"Alice?"

She glanced up, eyes wide. But she straightened up and took a deep breath in. "Marc is dead."

"Oh."

Suddenly they all straightened up and she turned to see who they were looking at. Thankful for the interruption, she took another large drink. No more explaining.

Lewis Nixon joined them. "Your presence is requested, Lieutenant." He had a small, cheeky grin on his face.

"Pardon," she said to the enlisted.

"You looked uncomfortable," Nixon said. "Figured I'd let you get away from them."

Alice smiled. "Thank you. Yes, the topic turned to sensitive matters. I often speak freely of what the Nazis have done to us, but I cannot look weak in front of them."

They sat back down with Ron Speirs. Dick had disappeared leaving the three alone. She felt both of them watching her carefully. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable; Lewis Nixon at least seemed genuinely concerned which touched her deeply and Speirs just seemed curious.

"I'm eager to begin training with your men," she finally said. "Though I fear Lieutenant Sobel will not appreciate my presence."

Nixon laughed, and Speirs cracked a tiny smile. The former just shook his head. "I've known Sobel for awhile. He doesn't appreciate anything."

They fell quiet. The bustle around them continued. Men laughed and shouted, sloshing drinks left and right. The men of Easy Company chatted together, and every once in awhile they'd look over at Alice and the two officers. Music played in the background, some swing for the men to dance to, if there had been women to dance with.

"So, how'd you get involved with the resistance?" Speirs pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Nixon took one quickly, and then Alice. As he waited for her to respond, Speirs passed out a light to each.

After puffing in her cigarette a few times, she sat straighter. "I was born in Hamburg, Germany, in December of 1920. I had two older brothers, Robert who is now twenty-seven, and Marc who was two years older than me. My father is German, and was a banker in Hamburg." She puffed the cigarette a few times. Then she continued. "My mother is from Western France. I grew up learning both sides of my heritage. When Hitler rose to power, he began to sow hatred for Jews. We are Jewish, and lost customers and support. So in 1934, my father and mother moved us to Paris. I was fourteen, and by then my younger sister Bernadette was six." 

Her throat constricted from the smoke and her sadness. But her companions stayed quiet, and she continued. "Our extended family kept sending us news of the Nazis. Kristallnacht happened, and we lost contact with them. When the Nazis invaded Paris, we were caught. My parents changed our names to my mother's surname, Laurent, and tried to lay low."

"You still don't know what happened to your German family?" Nixon asked.

Alice shook her head. "No. Jews have disappeared all around Germany, and it has been hard to get in contact with anyone there."

"When the Germans invaded, you started working for the Underground?" asked Speirs. He inhaled his cigarette deeply.

"Not me, no. Not right away. I stayed in school. My favorite subject was language, and I am now fluent in four: German, French, English, and Dutch. But my older brothers immediately became active in the French Underground. It only took about six months for me to join them, through some classmates. I passed out leaflets exposing the Nazis, and organized protests." She sipped her wine. "In 1941, my brothers and I went out to a club in Paris. It was stupid, we were taking a risk. We'd all been caught and labeled troublemakers before. But we wanted a break. I ended up killing an SS officer. In order to protect me, Robert and I fled, but Marc stayed behind. They shot him in the head."

"Jesus."

Alice nodded at Nixon. "We were fortunate though. The SS operative I had killed had been a target for a British spy who worked alongside the Maquis. She managed to smuggle us from Paris into the Maquis who operated out of the Alps. They trained us, and we worked for them for about a year. Robert is still with them."

"And the rest of your family?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. When I still lived in France, before training in England, we tried to keep up with them. They have been trying to leave France, to come to England. But I haven't received word from anyone in the last two months."

Speirs sat forward. "You said that Jews have been disappearing all over Germany. You don't know why or to where?"

"Just rumors. Three words that circulate. Endlösung der Judenfrage. The final solution to the Jewish question. No one knows what it entails." Alice sat up and inhaled her cigarette. She blew out a steady stream of white smoke. "Some think they're deporting Jews to Siberia. I heard someone else say they're being sent to Palestine. Some say they're being rounded up and shot. I do not know what I think." After another lengthy pause, she forced herself to brighten up. "I have told you about me. What of you two?"

Lewis Nixon sat back in his chair and threw his shot glass back, downing his whiskey. He shrugged. "Born in New York City, lived in California."

"You know French," she added.

He grinned. "Yeah, well, we traveled around a lot when I was younger and I fell in love with the language. Yale made me learn one, so I stuck with it."

She turned to Ron Speirs. He paused, inhaling the smoke from his steadily shrinking cigarette. "Born in Scotland, came here when I was four."

"Clearly you two have led less interesting lives than I have if that is all you have to tell me," she said with a small smile. Alice trailed her finger around the rim of her wine glass.

Nixon laughed and Ron cracked a smile. She chewed on some food that Nixon and Ron had been sharing, and watched the bar. The Easy Company men who still stood around the bar seemed to be getting restless. She saw a few making to leave.

"I think, If you will pardon me for the night, that I would like to figure out where and how I will shower while here." She hesitated, considering her options.

Speirs stood up. "I'm heading out as well. Nixon will be here for hours if he has the option."

"Hey. I do have dignity."

"Do you?"

He grumbled and stood as well. "If you're both leaving, I'll come too. You can probably use the Officers' showers for tonight at least. Ron why don't you walk her back to get her clothes and I'll get it situated."

"I appreciate it."

The three of them exited the bar together. As with earlier, she noticed each man took up a spot to either side. Their concern really was touching. All three of them tossed their dead cigarettes aside and then Nixon broke off from them to find out if the showers were free.

Neither Ron nor Alice spoke as they trailed across the compound. Upon reaching her barracks, he stayed outside. She ducked indoors. Most of the men were lounging around. A few played cards, the rest either read books or wrote letters. Upon her entrance, they quieted down and she did her best to ignore it.

On her bed sat several outfits. Two sets of fatigues, two sets of PT gear, and two sets of sleepwear had been stacked neatly. A small note signed Lt. Winters sat on top. She smiled. Grabbing one of the sets of sleepwear, she pulled off her heels and slipped into boots. Then she picked her way through the hushed barracks.

Speirs guided her to where the Officers' had their showers. Nixon stood outside. The watch she had on read close to midnight.

"There's a towel and soap inside," Nixon said. "I'll stay out here."

"Thank you."

She slipped into the shower and began to undress, hanging her dress over the door to the stall. As she turned on the water, Alice hummed a gentle tune. Scrubbing clean felt absolutely fantastic. After two weeks on a boat with only minimal bathing ability, she relished the shower. Slowly she began to sing.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Il me parle l'a tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

"Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça m' fait quelque chose

"Il est entré dans mon coeur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

"C'est lui pour moi

Moi pour lui dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie..."

Outside the showers, Lewis Nixon and Ron Speirs stood a little ways away to give her privacy. Her French melody wove its way towards them. Speirs didn't know what it meant, but Nixon understood the French. He'd never heard the song before.

"What the hell is Washington thinking, putting a woman in with the company," Speirs muttered. "The men are going to be all over her."

Nixon gave a quick laugh in agreement. "She is one hell of a woman."

"Aren't you married?"

"Come on, Ron. That doesn't mean I'm blind."

"Cigarette?"

"Thanks."

Speirs pulled out his lighter and lit his and Nixon's cigarettes. They stood in silence, listening to the flowing water and gentle singing. Finally Speirs spoke again, removing his cigarette pensively.

"Think she'll make it?"

"God, I hope so." Nixon smiled at Speirs' expression. "Not just because I like looking at her, Ron. She'll be a real asset to the Battalion with her intelligence information."

"Are they still thinking of putting you in Intelligence?"

"Still up in the air. But Jesus, I hope so. Cause I can't stand Sobel."

Speirs huffed in amusement. The shower shut off a few moments later. Alice had finished her song and they waited. Only a handful of voices from around the camp could be heard. Most of the men slept or at least stayed in their barracks.

With another deep inhale of his cigarette, Speirs looked around. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see how she does."