"What do you mean, there's no more ammo?"

Alice just shook her head in disbelief as Dick Winters talked to the ranking supply officer. She had accompanied him to get a handle on the situation. It had become apparent quite quickly that the 506th needed to get moving ASAP. The whole 101st had been ordered to the Ardennes. They'd hoped that by heading straight to Supply, they'd get a bit more than the other Battalions.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but we've not been resupplied." The dark haired, young Lieutenant, arms across his chest, seemed impatient. He reached up above his head to pull a box down. "Listen, I know it's not ideal, but you're just going to have to go with what you've got."

She felt herself bristling. "What we've got is nothing, Lieutenant."

The man huffed, dropping the box at his feet. "With all due respect, sirs, that's not my problem." He pointed to the boxes around them in the store room. "I ordered more ammo. They haven't sent it yet."

Dick stared at the young man for a few moments. Standing beside him, Alice could see him biting back a sharp retort. But finally he nodded. Together, they left the Supply building.

"Well this isn't going well," Alice muttered. "Any other options?"

Dick shook his head. "Not in terms of supplies. There aren't enough hats in all of Reims to supply the 2nd Battalion, and definitely no ammunition." He paused, turning to her. "Go find Nixon, see if he has any idea on potential resupplies."

"Right." 

She sped off towards the building used by Regimental. All around her, enlisted hurried through the dark, damp night. Temperatures hadn't improved. Any exposed skin on the pale faces around her turned a bright red. She knew her face probably didn't look any better. When she reached the door, a fierce gale hit her in the face. Coughs wrecked her body for a moment as she stood inside. 

When she had a hold of herself, Alice dashed up the closest set of stairs. She passed a few lieutenants on her way up, none sparing her more than a glance. She ran into Nixon at the top of the stairs.

"You're in a hurry," he commented. But he didn't leave her room for discussion as he started down the stairs. 

Alice rolled her eyes but turned and followed right back down next to him. Her feet hadn't even started to warm up yet. "Dick wanted to know if there's any chance at a resupply in the near future."

"No idea," he said. "It depends on the weather and the Germans."

They hit the bottom of the stairs. Everywhere in the building and where they continued outside echoed with shouts and loud boots against the ground. Alice felt her heart racing.

"Colonel Strayer's not back from England yet," Nixon added a moment later. "I'm going to find Sink. Tell Dick to find me when he's done talking to the Company Commanders."

"Right."

Alice watched Nixon hurry off to a building next door. Camp de Châlons in the frigid night, filled with tense voices, didn't look anywhere near as appealing as usual.  Now she had to find Dick. Again.

It took nearly half an hour of Alice searching Camp de Châlons before she found him again. He stood around a flaming oil drum with what looked to be Peacock, Buck, and Dike. He looked to be dressing down the Company Commander. Alice hurried up to them and slipped in between Buck and Dick.

"Lieutenant Compton, Lieutenant Peacock, inform Lieutenant Shames of the situation. Get all your platoons as best equipped as you can. Then report back here to me, understood?"

Buck and Peacock both nodded. Alice watched them hurry off. To her left, Dick had turned from her to Dike. He said nothing.

Dike, in turn, looked from Alice to Dick. He nodded. "Captain." With a salute, he turned away.

Dick didn't bother returning it. Both of them watched Easy's commander move off to only God knew where. After a moment, he looked back at her. "Nix?"

"Knows about as much as the two of us," she muttered. Alice continued to stare after Dike. Her mood soured. Then she turned back to Dick. "What's next?"

His sigh told her all she needed to know. The two of them spent another couple minutes standing at the burning drum, neither particularly eager to leave the warmth. But as the organized chaos droned on, they knew they had to get moving.

"Thought it was you two." Nixon moved over to them, his hands in his pockets. Like the rest of them, he had only a light scarf to protect his neck, and his nose glowed red from exposure. "Trust you to find the warmest spot on base and set up shop." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and began to warm them over the fire.

"How are we looking, Nix?" Dick asked.

He shrugged with a sigh. "Third Battalion is worse than you, if you can believe it. They have almost nothing. We'll be putting them in reserve to start." 

"Where exactly are we going?" Alice asked.

"As far as I could tell, the area around the town of Bastogne. Sink said he'd have more information by the time we get there."

With that information to go on, which wasn't much, they moved off to get more work done. Within an hour, the men had loaded up into trucks. They packed into the trucks like sardines. Men sat on the benches and in the bed, no room to stretch legs.

As Alice went to hop into a jeep with Nixon and Dick, grateful to be spared the pain of the troop trucks, she noticed a stash of medical supplies someone had left out in the open sitting on some crates. With a quick glance around to make sure no one watched, she moved to it and swiped the six syrettes. Stealing? Yes. But frankly Alice cared more about making sure Gene, Spina, and Mampre had supplies than the moral implications of taking someone else's morphine.

Dick called over to her. "Alice, Let's go!" 

She hurried back over and swung up beside Nixon. The private who drove them looked to Dick for directions. Once about half of 2nd Battalion's trucks had moved out, he had them start.

The ride to the area surrounding Bastogne took almost four hours. Conditions had improved somewhat, the rain subsiding. But the air stayed freezing. Suddenly the idea of trading a pack of smokes for more socks seemed a lot more reasonable.

"You need at least four in this weather. Feet, hands, neck, balls, extra socks warms them all."

Alice laughed out loud at the memory. The boys had come up with the rhyme during winter training in Aldbourne. She couldn't wipe the grin off her face even as Nixon looked at her.

"What?" 

Alice snickered. "Just something I remembered."

He snorted. "Please, enlighten us. I could use a laugh."

With a laugh, she nodded. Alice tapped Dick on the shoulder. When he turned around, she half shouted over the noisy trucks. "Hey, Dick, remember the sock rhyme?"

Immediately, he started smiling. Though he tried to suppress it, they could see it clear as day. Nixon once again insisted to be let in on the secret.

"I can't remember if it was Guarnere or Muck who came up with it. Might've even been someone else," she said. "It was a rhyme the men came up with to remember how many extra socks to bring."

"Yeah, yeah. And what was the rhyme."

"Feet, hands, neck, balls. Extra socks warms them all."

Nixon spent half a second thinking before he cracked up. Soon enough, all three of them were suppressing their laughter with varying degrees of success. Finally, Nixon looked over to her.

"Did you remember them?"

"The socks?" Alice grimaced. "No. I've only got two pairs."

"Well, you only need three," he pointed out.

Immediately, Alice broke into another fit of laughter. Things seemed a little less bleak when she let her mind forget. When Dick turned around to look at her, she wasn't paying attention. She also missed the look he sent Nixon.

Nearly four hours after setting off from Mourmelon-le-Grand, the trucks stopped in a neat line. As the paratroopers lept from the trucks and set off to immediately relieve themselves, she just looked around at the conditions. Snow lined the road, brown from dirt being kicked up. A few moments later, whole pools of poured out gasoline lit up in spectacular fashion to try and warm their bodies.

As she hauled herself from the jeep, legs aching, Alice pulled out a cigarette. Her fingers trembled as she tried to light it. Finally, after what she considered far too long, it caught. Alice hurried after Dick and Nixon towards Colonel Sink.

As Sink rattled off instructions to them, she listened patiently. As suspected, they'd be defending the town of Bastogne. It's strategic value to both the Allies and the Germans couldn't be understated. About a minute into his short briefing, they heard someone rush up.

Colonel Strayer, still in his dress uniform, came up to them. He shook his head. "Barely made it."

They all nodded at him. While he went to go find some fatigues, Sink finished outlining the plan. As Alice looked at the map, she grimaced at the sheer amount of territory 2nd Battalion needed to secure.

"Let's roll," he said at last.

"Sir, we're a little short on ammunition," Nixon ventured.

Sink turned back to them as he moved towards his own jeep. He narrowed his eyes. "How short?"

Dick answered him. "There was a limited supply in camp, sir."

With a small huff, Alice nodded along. Limited supply. Meaning, nothing. Absolutely nothing. How the Americans had screwed up so bad, she couldn't tell.

"Cap'n, you beg, borrow, or steal ammo. But you defend this area."

Both Nixon and Dick gave small, half-hearted 'sirs' before saluting. Just as Sink went to drive off, he stopped. "Klein."

"Sir?"

"Keep doin' what you're doin'. Stay with Second unless we need you in the town," he said.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

Without further ado, Colonel Sink drove off. For a few moments, Nixon, Alice, and Dick stood silent. Alice sucked at her cigarette. All around them, men did the same or stretched and waited for further instructions. And then Alice saw them. 

She took her cigarette out of her mouth, entranced by what she saw. Thousands of American soldiers moved down the large road leading into Bastogne, bandages wrapped around faces and limbs, blood seeping through the white wraps. They moved without purpose. All of them looked like hell. None of them made eye contact.

"Dick," she murmured. Alice couldn't take her eyes off them. She raised her voice a little. "Nixon."

The men, previously standing together discussing plans, turned to look at her. But immediately they noticed what had her attention. They joined her.

"Jesus," Nixon murmured.

It didn't take long for the enlisted men of the 506th to step in. Near them, Bill Guarnere's quick thinking led them to take as much ammo as possible from the shell-shocked battalion. Her feet stayed rooted to the ground, though. Alice couldn't take her eyes off the vacant gazes of the retreating infantry.

Her heart sank. Alice felt like she wanted to throw up. Not because of the men wandering past aimlessly covered in blood, but because of what it spoke to. This was the hell her friends, her family, moved towards. Freezing nights, bloody days.

Even as a truck of ammunition showed up, a lieutenant taking the initiative to gather what he could for the arriving paratroopers, Alice couldn't quite move. She hadn't prayed in a long time, too frustrated with herself and with the world and with God. But in that moment, she did. She prayed not for herself, but for the men. She prayed that they'd make it out alive.