March 24, 1945

Stürzelberg, Dormagen, Germany

She hadn't imagined that the return to Germany would be as uneventful as how it actually played out. They'd arrived in Dormagen not to machine guns and artillery but to mooing cows and loud reminders to keep fraternizing to a minimum. The first time Alice heard a pair of young women speaking German at the side of a road, though, the feeling of home crashed into her, hard. She stood in Germany.

Now, a couple of days into their occupation of Stürzelberg in Dormagen on the Rhine, she found herself up before the dawn. Alice sat down beneath an apple tree outside a farmhouse on the edge of town. The light pink, blue, and gold of the early morning cascaded across the sky with only a handful of clouds in the way. She took a deep breath through her nose. Then she released it.

After sitting there for an hour, Alice decided to take a walk. While there were some German companies across the river, only sporadic fire was exchanged. She didn't worry too much about walking around. With gentle ease, Alice strolled around the green spaces outside the town of Stürzelberg itself. For miles in all directions, farmland stretched to the horizon.

"You're up early, Lieutenant!"

Alice turned towards Garcia at his call. He and Hashey walked side by side from a barn nearby, Easy's HQ. They looked almost as at ease as their time in Mourmelon-le-Grand. It made her smile. She waited for them to join. "I figured I'd take a walk up to the outpost."

"Hey, we're posted there next," Hashey said, grinning.

"Hey, Lieutenant, where in Germany are you from?" asked Garcia.

She smiled. As they continued down the lane towards the outpost on the river, she turned back to them. "Hamburg, up north. It's quite different from here in Dormagen," she explained. "This is a lot smaller. I've never been here."

Garcia nodded. "When'd you leave?"

"We moved to Paris in 1934. I was almost 14."

Hashey tried to suppress a yawn. With a quick apology, he tried to explain. "We were up late last night."

"Doing what?" Alice asked.

"Well, George and Perco were messing with a civilian radio," Garcia tried to explain. "And then Lieb somehow managed to get a hold of several cases of beer."

"Did he now?" With a laugh, Alice shook her head. "I'm not surprised. I lucked out; with Captain Nixon gone, there was a lot less alcohol available. I actually slept a decent amount."

Hashey smirked. "Is his Vat 69 stash as endless as they say?"

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

Alice chuckled. "It's not. He's almost out, actually. I think he's only got a couple of bottles left."

They reached the outpost soon enough, relieving a couple of the newest replacements including John Janovec. Alice had met him back in Mourmelon. It surprised her how well he seemed to fit in with the men. And as an added bonus, he seemed entirely unperturbed about her existence.

"Morning, Lieutenant!" He saluted, a grin on his face. When she returned the gesture, he nodded and let his hand drop. "Sleep okay?"

"Hey, Janovec. Slept pretty well, yeah," she said, smiling. "Anything interesting?"

Janovec shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered. "Not that I'm complaining," he added with a grin. "But, I've got plans, so I'll leave you-" he pointed to the others- "to take over."

"Get outta here, Janovec," Hashey heckled.

"I'm going! I'm going!"

As Les Hashey and Tony Garcia got comfortable, Alice watched Janovec disappear down the road. She couldn't shake the smile on her face at the way everyone now seemed less worried and more comfortable than ever. For a while she just stood and waited.

"Hey, Lieutenant, have you heard those stories the brass are spreading, about the death camps?" Garcia asked, settling back. "I heard some of the guys saying it's all propaganda. I mean, the Germans have been great."

Alice stiffened. The usually imperceptible weight of the letters from Elsa became like a millstone in her breast pocket. She didn't have an answer. What Garcia said was true. She tried to think of an answer that wouldn't be too personal. "I'm not sure. I know that the Jews of Europe sure think they're real, in some way. It would be good labor, having men and women working for them. I don't know about death camps, though." So far Germany had seemed relatively calm.

Garcia and Hashey both nodded. The latter sat back and grabbed a book off the small table. For a few more minutes, Alice stood and watched out the front of the outpost across the river. She glanced down at her watch. 0820 hours.

"I'll see you boys later, alright? Stay outta trouble."

As they said goodbye to her, she turned back towards the town. The walk made her feel infinitely better: fresh air, the occasional background rumblings of German civilians, birds, cows, a natural choir to sooth her nerves. After several detours, she reached the city center. The grey and brown brick buildings rose up on all sides, seemingly untouched by the war.

Across the street, she saw Ron walking with a ridiculous amount of silver in his hands. Some candlesticks, a couple trays, and what looked like a cup or two balanced between his hands. It got harder to suppress a smile as she saw him making his way into the street.

She gasped in surprise as a jeep careened into him- almost. At the last second, Ron pulled back, saving all the silver in the process. He looked about ready to murder the jeep driver when he and she both realized that Nixon rode in the passenger seat. Alice narrowed her eyes in confusion. Why was he back so soon?

Alice hurried towards Ron as the jeep continued on. He caught sight of her after a moment and waited. With a small frown and glance back down the steadily-thickening crowd on the street, she hoped to catch sight of Nixon. But she couldn't.

"What's got him in such a shitty mood," Ron muttered. "Here, carry this."

Alice took the tray that dangled from two of his fingers. She just shrugged. "No idea. This morning was the jump with the 17th, right? Operation Varsity?"

"Yeah, yeah it was."

They moved into the post office. Just as Ron moved through the door, two corporals startled. Ron moved through them, and Alice slipped in behind. They nodded to her on their way past. The back wall had at least a dozen cubbies of different sizes filled with packages and parcels. A long, wooden bar top stood between the mail and the rest of the room. Ron lost no time in setting the silver on the table, and Alice followed suit.

Vest, down at the other end, glance over. After a moment of looking at the spoils, he nodded with a smile. "Good morning, sirs."

"Morning," Ron acknowledged. "You got a box all this stuff'll fit into?"

As Vest moved over to them, Ron pulled two packs of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket and set them up on the bar, on Vest's side. Immediately the man grinned.

"Yes, sir, I think so. Same destination?" Vest picked up the two cigarette packs and slipped them into his own pocket. He looked at the stuff Ron had.

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"Yes sir, I'll make it goes out first thing tomorrow morning," he assured him.

"Thank you, private."

"Boy your folks sure are gonna have quite a collection by the time you...get home, sir," stuttered Vest.

But Ron just grinned. "Finders keepers."

As Ron left the post office, Alice couldn't suppress her own grin at his antics. With a nod at Vest, she went to follow him.

"Oh! Lieutenant! I've got a couple letters for you, while you're here." Vest went to one of the cubbies on the wall and started sorting through the envelopes. Finally he found two for her. "Here you go."

Alice grinned and thanked him. As she hurried out into the street again, Alice thought about digging into the letter straight away. But the memory of Nixon's dramatic arrival into Stürzelberg made her wait. Her smile faltered as she hurried towards the Headquarters where she and the other officers had taken up residence.

Alice took the two brick steps up quickly. Her boots pounded against the hardwoods when she walked inside. A few members of Battalion Headquarters scurried about on the ground floor. After looking around for a few moments, she decided to go up the stairs. Nixon and Dick had rooms on the second floor.

The wooden stairs creaked a bit beneath her Corcoran boots. When she reached the top of the stairs, she could hear Dick's voice from Nixon's room on the left. She caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Not bad for a man who's never fired his weapon in combat, huh."

"Really? Really, you've never-"

"Nope."

Alice moved into the doorway where Dick stood chewing on a scone. She peered past him into the floral-wallpapered room. Nixon sat on the bed facing the other direction, taking off his boots. Neither of them had noticed her yet.

"Not even with all the action we've seen?"

As Nixon tossed his boots against the wall, he stood up. "Not around."

Even before she looked at his face, Alice knew something was wrong. His voice had even more of the dry sarcasm than usual for Lewis Nixon. Bitterness, not teasing, laced his tone. While Dick moved to the right of the doorway to sit against the dresser, Nixon went straight for a bottle of Vat 69.

Dick glanced her way and nodded. She nodded back. With another few bites of the scone, Dick looked Nixon over. "So, uh, how'd it go this morning? The jump?"

Nixon finally looked their way. With a brief moment of hesitation, he looked at Alice leaning against the door frame, and then at Dick. The glass of Vat 69 in his hand sat down by his waist, untouched. He gripped it so tight, Alice thought maybe it would break.

"It was great," he drawled. With even more spite, he added, "Fantastic." After another glance Alice's way, he turned away from them towards the curtained window. "Took a direct hit over the drop zone. I got out. Two others got out." He downed half his glass.

Alice tore her gaze away from his back and looked at Dick. He did the same to her. With a frown, his scone forgotten, Dick just nodded. "The rest of the boys?"

"Oh, they blew up over Germany somewhere." Nixon spun towards them, trying to act nonchalant. He smirked. "Boom."

"Yeah." Dick paused. "I'm sorry."

Nixon scoffed. "About what?"

"Well, tough situation for-"

The bitter grin that spread across Nixon's face made Alice's heart drop. He almost chuckled. "Oh yeah, the boys." He turned to Dick straight on before shaking his head, the same smile plastered on his face. "Oh well, wasn't me!"

The second half of his Vat 69 disappeared down his throat dramatically. Alice had no words. Beside her, she could see Dick debating what to say as well. When neither of them spoke, Nixon rambled on.

"You know, the real tragedy is, they lost their CO. So guess who gets to write all the letters home?" While trying to refill his shot glass, Nixon realized his bottle had run out. With a glare at the glass bottle, he stalked towards the door and tossed it in the metal trash bin. "Goddamn nightmare."

Alice let him pass unhindered. They went into the large study that lay between the hall and the bedroom. The seven bottles of Vat 69 on the carved mahogany table sat as testament to just how much Nixon had been drinking. Alice had noticed it back in Mourmelon-le-Grand, once he'd gotten access to more Vat 69. He'd stocked up on as much as he could, but Alice had noticed it disappearing faster than usual, and Nixon had been pushing for more and more drinking games during poker nights.

As Nixon rifled through the various bottles to find one with whiskey still in it, Dick moved further into the room. He made eye contact with Alice first before turning back to their clearly disturbed friend. He sighed. "Got a visit from Colonel Sink this morning."

"And how is the good colonel?" Nixon muttered.

"Concerned."

Nixon snorted, highly amused at Dick's estimation. He slipped into a chair at the table and sat back. He downed another drink.

"Still drinking nothing but the Vat 69, huh?"

Another grin spread across Nixon's face. But it faltered as he spoke, holding up the glass in salute. "Nothing but the finest for Mrs. Nixon's baby boy."

"That a problem up at Regiment?"

Alice's eyes widened as she tore her gaze away from Nixon. Dick leaned against the back of another chair at the table. He didn't look at Alice.

"What? This? That what he said?" His expression darkened as he finally turned to look at Alice. "No. I just don't like it up there."

As Dick went to tell him that he was being transferred back down to Battalion, she just held Nixon's gaze. She couldn't help but smile a little as he watched her. But suddenly he shuddered and turned away. He stared off into space for a moment.

"What do you think I should write to these parents?"

Dick paused for a moment. He glanced down at the floor. "Hear what I said, Nix?" Then he glanced up. "You've been demoted."

Nixon rolled his eyes at Dick. "Yeah, demoted, got you. 'Cause, I don't know how to tell them their kids never even made it outta the goddamn plane."

Without hesitation, Dick answered him. "You tell 'em what you always tell 'em. Their sons died as heroes."

The pause before Nixon responded said as much as his words. "You really still believe that?"

With a tiny nod, Dick just replied with a simple, "Yeah. Yeah I do. Don't you?"

For a moment, Nixon just stared at him. The tiniest smirk graced his features as he didn't respond. Alice's heart broke. She couldn't pull her gaze away from his worn expression. After a moment, once Nixon averted his gaze to study the bottles on the table, she turned to Dick. Without a word, she just looked from Dick to Nixon and back. Dick hesitated, chewing at his cheek. Then he nodded.

"I've gotta go finish those Supply reports," he said.

Nixon didn't respond at first. His attention was on another planet. So Alice turned to Dick, who stood unsure what to do. She told him silently to go ahead. With a small nod and pat of the back of the chair he'd been leaning against, Dick moved past her where she stood near the door and left the room.

"Hey," she finally said, voice low.

Her small greeting pulled him out of his blank-faced musings, back up the rabbit hole of his thoughts. He glanced up at her. She couldn't quite explain it to herself, but Alice could see the pain in his eyes. With a tight half-smile, she pushed off the wall and moved over to the table. Once she sat across from him and scooted one of the green Vat 69 bottles to the side out of her line of sight, she took a deep breath. "Would you like me to write the letters?"

For the first time since she'd seen him after the jump, he actually smiled. It was a genuine smile, no bitterness, but a bit of disbelief. He gave a tiny scoff under his breath. As his smile faltered a bit, he shook his head. "No. It's my job."

"On the bright side, you're working with the Battalion again," Alice pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah. More time with you." After a tiny pause, he hurriedly continued, "And Dick and Harry. Less dealing with the brass."

Alice felt her chest tighten. For a moment she just looked at him. Her brain screamed at her, reminding her he was married and they were in a war. No official policy existed over fraternization between servicemen given she was the only woman in combat, but she knew it wouldn't go over well. Not that she could even think of such things given he was married.

When she didn't respond, he took another drink. "Unfortunately, it means more of Ron," he tried to joke.

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. Immediately she buried her tension and shook her head. "Well, you almost ran him over today. He certainly won't be happy about that."

"If only I'd had better aim," he muttered, smirking. "Can't stand that guy."

Alice laughed again. "Be nice to Ron. He's great."

"Not as great as me."

"No. But Easy can't afford to lose another commander," she added. "If you don't spare Ron out of the goodness of your heart, at least spare him for me, okay?"

"Fine."

They fell into a comfortable quiet again. In the silence, Alice watched him. He sat a little less tense, his hand around his glass trembled less. Though he still took shots, they were smaller and less frequent.

"Can we write them together?" she ventured. When he looked over, she realized she needed something else to convince him to let her help. "I never get to thank them. Americans, putting your lives at risk for me, for us. Maybe if I help you, I'll sleep a little better?"

She knew, as soon as Nixon looked her in the eyes, that he could see right through her explanation. He knew as well as she that she wasn't doing it for herself. But after a brief moment, he nodded. But it did the trick, gave him permission to accept the help. "Yeah, yeah why not."

With a smile, Alice nodded. "Good. Better get some paper then."

After she retrieved the paper from where she knew he stowed it in his bedroom, Alice hurried back to the table. Nixon had cleared the bottles to the side at least, if not off the table altogether. She passed him the stack of paper and a pencil. After looking down at the blank sheets for a moment, he pulled a page from his breast pocket. The list of names lay beside the letters.

For over an hour, they worked on what to say and how to say it. Every minute, Alice could see Nixon tensing. He downed a bit more per drink each time. His handwriting grew more shaky. But in the end, a dozen letters had been written and signed. Though thoroughly buzzed, Nixon held it together well.

"Nix, take a nap. I'll take these to Strayer," she offered. When he went to object, she shook her head. "Please, go take a nap."

At her plea, he paused. It took several moments of him standing by the table, shot glass in hand sitting against the wood. But then he nodded. With his promise to go to bed, she went down the stairs carefully.

Her chest hurt. Her body felt tight. She just wanted a cigarette. But she needed to deliver the letters to Strayer.