Disclaimer: These are pure fiction and are based on the actor’s portrayals in HBO’s “Band of Brothers” and in no way are to be disrespectful to the actual men who fought in WWII.
Challenge numbers: #8 Easy, #10 Heirloom, #49 Laugh, #36 Home
Author’s Note: All are generic from anyone’s POV, except #49 with is Toye’s POV.
They run every day even though their legs hurt.
Morning, Afternoon, Night up, down, up.
They put up with Sobel because he’s in charge.
His yelling, him demeaning, his toughness.
They puke their guts out on Currahee Hill but still keep going.
They would never eat spaghetti again.
They aren’t Able Company! Able is half-assed attempts at things.
They aren’t Bravo Company! Bravo is a word for a job well done.
They aren’t done yet, not by a long shot.
They are Easy Company! Because they work hard, and prove that nothing in life is easy not even war.
The shadow box filled with patches, medals, and pins sat in a dusty box forgotten in an attic as the years marched onwards. It wasn’t until years later that the box was brought down and saw the light of day.
He sat there holding the box each pin reminding him of days long ago, but felt just like yesterday. He remembered friends long gone who had made their final jump. He looked up at his family who had eager eyes and decided that the story needed to be told so the memories would live on. This would be his gift.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the circumstances he found himself in. The laughter bubbled up until he couldn’t hold back and it sprung forth from him. He was filled to the brim with nervous laughter at the sickness that surrounded him.
Here he was in a goddamn forest his lower leg ten feet from him laying in the snow and his best friend Guarnere lying in blood. He had to laugh because right now he really wanted to cry. So when he heard Guarnere “See I beat you back to the States!” He really laughed, he was going home.
He feels out of place, walking down streets with buildings that aren’t piles of rubble. He wears a suit that feels too smooth against his skin, unlike the roughness of his uniform. Smells affect him more than they should. He still smells gun oil, dirt, and sweat. He feels a constant chill deep within his bones even in the heat of summer. He has trouble smiling at people he doesn’t know but see’s familiarities in the faces around him. He looks like Hoobler, she has Liebgott’s eyes, she has red hair like Winters. This is his hell, this is home.