July 1942

The United States of America

The train car certainly smelled better than New York City. After spending over a year living in and operating from the Alps, Alice had forgotten how stuffy and filled with stench the cities were. Somehow she recalled Paris and Hamburg differently, but perhaps this was due to nostalgia. Her home had been wonderful before the Nazis.

With her forehead against the glass window, Alice continued her slow, content breathing. The sky outside had darkened so now only a few streaks of color lit the sky. Her eyelids drooped. No matter how hard she tried to keep herself awake, it felt like midnight to her. Still, her instincts to keep valuables in sight at all times wasn't easily overcome. Not that she had much, of course. In her bag sat a handful of trail nuts, four outfits including one dress, her dark red beret, a bit of make up she'd picked up in London, and a wad of American cash. No, she didn't have much at all.

The steady click-clack of the wheels slowed. Alice forced her head off the glass. A small mark remained. Her gaze flicked around the car. The young man who had boarded the train at New York with her sat against the wall, head back. Lying carefully propped between his bent legs was a comic book. She didn't think he'd seen her yet. A steady stream of smoke wafted from his lit cigarette. The smell made her inhale deeply, eyes closed in contentment.

The train had only been moving for about two hours. When three young men entered the car quietly, she readjusted in her seat. One hand stayed on her pistol in her pants pocket. Alice forced herself back to looking down into her book, pretending to stay busy. Perhaps they wouldn't talk to her, then.

"Hey Blondie, wan' some company?"

No luck. Alice raised her head and looked up at the man in question. She let an eyebrow raise and flashed a tense smile. "No, thank you."

"Where you from?" The man persisted. A thick, brown cigar dangled from his mouth. His smile had dropped.

Alice's jaw clenched. She had never quite gotten rid of her Germanic accent, even though it had mixed with French long ago. "I'm traveling from London."

"Ya' don't sound British to me-"

"Hey, Carter, leave the broad alone. She don't want 'cha company, yah idiot."

Alice peered over the seats to where the other man had spoken. He looked about the same age, fairly young. His dark hair matched equally dark eyes. With a quick wink her way, he grabbed his grumbling friend down the train car. Finally free of them, Alice relaxed. Again she felt the tug of sleep.

Minutes passed. The click-clack and wobble of the train car returned. By now, darkness had fully fallen. The small, flickering light over her head was the only thing keeping her awake. Even with that, sleep inched in.

"You look tired."

Alice glanced up from her book. The young man who had been reading his comic stood next to her, leaning against an empty row. He had a gentle smile, though the alluring cigarette had gone out.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

But he just chuckled, keeping his voice down, and slid into the seat across from her. "Sure, sure. Any idiot can see you tryin' to stay awake. And that book there ain't doing it." He glanced at the title across the top of the page. Then he furrowed his brow. "Is that French?"

"Indeed."

The man's smile grew and he leaned over his crossed arms. The table moved at his sudden shift. "I'm George. George Luz." When she didn't respond, he shrugged. "I don't blame you wanting to stay awake. There can be dangerous guys hanging around."

"So I figured."

"Wait, me?" George laughed but tried to keep his voice down best he could. "I mean, well, shoot. I promise I'm better than those guys from earlier. What's your name?"

Somehow, she believed him. Years of deceiving the Nazis had made her a pretty good judge of character and she knew it. "Alice."

"Pleasure." He flashed her a wink that just made her smile and shake her head. "So. What's the book?"

She smiled and closed it, remembering her page number. Quatre-vingt-dix-huit. "It's called Les Misérables."

"Never heard of it." But after a moment he changed the topic. "Anyways what's a French girl visiting from England doing on a train in the US of A?"

The question hung in the air for a moment. With only the sounds of the train around them, she hesitated. Who knew how many of the other handful of men were listening? She guessed most slept, but had no way of knowing. Briefly the bulb over their heads flickered.

"I'm visiting Georgia," she finally settled on. "There is a job offer for me."

"No fu- freakin' way?" He caught himself. Then he grinned again. "I'm going to Georgia! Joining up to kill some Nazis."

Alice forced herself to smile. The Americans certainly sounded eager, whenever she caught wind of the war discussions. Especially the young men: they didn't seem to fully grasp what they spoke about. While she considered her response, he drew out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. Alice took one gratefully.

"But I guess, being from France and all, you see them, huh?"

Americans. Alice didn't have time to cover her mouth before a light laugh escaped her. She saw the corners of George's eyes crinkle in a smile. She just rolled her eyes. Leaning back against her seat, Alice hummed. The laughter died. "Yes. There is almost nowhere in France where they won't find you."

George lit her cigarette with his small lighter. Then he lit his own. The smoke wove its way through the air and filled the train car. A slight haze fell around them. Exhaustion crashed into her like a brick wall. The struggle to keep her eyes open only got worse. George seemed to ramble on, not noticing, and she found it hard to follow him. He talked quickly.

Instead she focused what little energy she had left on her cigarette. The smoke burned her throat as she drew it in. With each breath, she released it slowly. The monotony only made her more tired. Finally, she realized that George had stopped talking. He watched her in amusement.

"Guess I could only keep you entertained for so long," he joked. "Tell you what. You sleep, I'll make sure those guys don't steal your stuff."

Certainly a tempting offer. Alice paused for a moment and studied him. Her gut feeling from earlier still remained. As her breathing continued to slow involuntarily, trying to lull her to sleep, she finally nodded. "Thank you. Don't steal my stuff."

George just laughed. As she moved up against the window again, he put his legs up across the row, under the small table. The light flicked off. Listening to the prattle of the train wheels, Alice slept.

When she woke up, the sun shone through the windows. She checked her watch. 09:45. To her left and across the table, George had fallen asleep too. But the sun hadn't woken her. The train had slowed down, the noise changing. When it finally stopped with a jolt, George woke up too.

"Have a good sleep?" Alice joked. She looked outside at the station sign. It was her stop, just outside Toccoa. "I'm afraid this is my stop."

George rubbed his eyes. Suddenly he sprang up. "It's mine too!"

It didn't surprise Alice in the least. He'd mentioned Georgia and killing Nazis. Camp Toccoa was on their route. He grinned at her and grabbed his stuff, a single duffle bag like hers. Neither wasted any time in leaving the train and stepping out onto the small platform.

Georgia's summer had already begun, and they could feel it. Muggy, sticky air assaulted them. In the sun, it baked them. A few mosquitos landed on Alice almost immediately. She grimaced. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed. Suddenly a jeep pulled up, army green, with a young man in uniform driving it.

"I will see you at Camp Toccoa," Alice said. She flashed George a smile.

"You're going to Camp Toccoa?" The amazement in his voice increased. "It's a paratrooper training camp. What are you gonna do there?"

Alice didn't answer. She left George Luz standing in shock on the platform. Behind him, the train moved three dozen other men meandered around the area. With a quick wave goodbye, she walked up to the jeep.

"Alice Klein?" asked the man. He hopped out of the jeep. It didn't take long before he'd hoisted her bag into the back.

"Correct." She smiled. He was a private, based on his rank insignia. "Private?"

"Private Vest, ma'am."

The ride to Camp Toccoa didn't take long. It passed silently. Alice didn't feel much like talking. Her stomach churned. It made no sense, and she chastised herself. She fought Nazis on a regular basis. Here she only had to deal with allies. Still, the thought of having to make her way into a male dominated world worried her. A good amount of women were Maquis. No women were in the army.

And still there would be none. The agreement with the Americans was that she wouldn't actually exist. Her intel would remain classified, and any acknowledgement of her experiences would remain within the confines of whatever battalion she joined. Not that Alice particularly minded. A safe life came from a quiet life. She'd seen too many people die on account of loud Underground operatives.

Before long, the jeep pulled into camp. Dozens of men meandered about, chatting in small groups or doing stretches. Alice didn't miss their shocked expressions as she exited the car. One or two cat calls followed her. She ignored them. Instead, she followed Private Vest.

"Colonel Sink is waiting for you," he explained. Lifting up her luggage, he smiled. "I'll take this bag wherever it needs to go when I get an order."

She thanked him. Vest knocked on a door at the end of the hallway they entered. A voice called for them to enter. Alice stepped inside.

"Colonel Sink, sir." Vest nodded. "Alice Klein."

The man behind the desk stood up. He had a kind smile and slightly wrinkled face framed by dark, greying hair and mustache. Alice raised her hand in salute and he returned it. Vest left the room.

"Welcome to Toccoa, Miss Klein. Hope your trip wasn't too hard?" Sink gestured for her to sit as he did the same.

Alice shook her head. "It was fine, sir. Once I got out of France, little went wrong except one U-Boat scare."

"Good, good. Well I'm glad you're here. I know the British explained your mission. You're here for intelligence for the Battalion and for combat experience."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm placing you in Easy Company. It has some of the finest officers in the 506th." He paused. "Since you've been with the Underground, I assume you have some experience sleeping in the same area as men?"

Alice smiled. She let out a light laugh. "Yes, sir. We slept where we could."

"Good. Then hopefully this won't go too poorly. I tell yah though, if any of the men give you trouble, let me know. I'll deal with it, personally."

"Thank you, sir."

Sink smiled again. With a quick nod, he called for Vest. The man entered quickly. At the Colonel's direction, he stood aside to show Alice her bunk. With a quick salute, she left Colonel Sink behind.

Author's Note:

First and foremost, thanks for checking out this fic, voting, commenting, etc. I really appreciate it! As you can see, I'm tackling the frequently done "girl joins Easy Company" trope. After all, trying overused tropes is what I do!

Hopefully this turns out well. As of December 2019, this is one of two stories I am working on. I have no regular update schedule, but hopefully will do this fairly frequently.

Thanks for your time!

Julianne