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she-wolf09231982 · 2 days

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Chapter 8- Adapt and Overcome

Summary: After the German bomb run on Bastogne, the locals and American soldiers there that were left, helped piece back together what they could of the town. Medical personnel that had survived still tended to the wounded however they could with whatever supplies they had left. Easy Company remains in the Ardennes Forest preparing for an inevitable assault on German forces in the town of Foy. However, morale is low due to cold weather, constant shelling, zero relief, and numerous casualties to include a few of your closest friends as Easy pushes forward into Haguenau.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Mentions of death, Confrontation, Military Terminology, Medical Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish/German/Italian to English Translation, Descriptive Wounds/Injuries, Blood/Gore, PTSD, Smoking, Banter, Pining, Consensual Physical Contact/PDA, FOREVER FLUFF

Made the best discovery writing this piece: "Liebling" means "darling" in German!! That absolutely made my day and now is my new favorite pet name/term of endearment from Liebgott.

Beginning 1x7 The Breaking Point then transitions into 1x8 The Last Patrol

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

January 5th, 1945

German artillery fired onto Easy Company from the town as Easy soldiers scattered to the nearest foxholes to take cover.

“INCOMING! TAKE COVER!” Lipton shouts to the men as he runs to the nearest foxhole.

Blasts coming from all directions causing trees to fall and dirt to fly made it difficult for the men to navigate safe passages to their holes. You had been separated from Joe before the attack started. You lay flat behind a pile of fallen trees for cover while you shield your face from the debris. You were too afraid to move, fearing you’d just get hit.

After what seemed like hours, the ambush came to a halt, and you suddenly heard a familiar call from the distance.

“MEDIC!”

You sprang from the ground and started running towards the cry for help then you ran into LT Buck Compton.

“Buck! Are you ok!?” you ask as you look him over frantically.

He had a distant look in his eyes.

“Sir? SIR??” you take him by the shoulders and shake him.

Buck finally looked at you, “...yeah.” he whispered.

“Did you see anyone else that was hurt? I heard someone call for a medic.”

His eyes began to gloss over. You tilted your head while you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Buck? Who needs help? Please, tell me!” you urge him.

He pointed to a path through the trees and uttered names that almost had you fainting at his feet.

“Bill...and Joe.”

You wasted no time dashing through the tree line where he had pointed to. The path lined by the woods seemed never ending. All you heard was the drumming of your heartbeat in your ears while your feet became heavier and heavier impeding your ability to get to Joe as fast as possible. Images of his lifeless body flashed before your eyes, causing tears to stream down, stinging your cheeks from the cold air.

You finally reach the clearing, stopping to assess the carnage of blood in front of you. You see Doc Roe already kneeling over a soldier lying on his back whose face you couldn’t see from where you had been standing. To the left you see Guarnere leaning against a pine, his right leg hanging on only by tendons and ligaments.

Two men rushed in with a litter.

“Bill, you go first.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Bill replied.

“Over here. Take this man.” Gene ordered pointing at Guarnere.

Guarnere was hoisted onto the stretcher, and carried off, not before a snappy exit comment,

“Hey, Joe, I told ya I'd beat ya back to the States.”

Tunnel vision sets in as the world starts to cave in on you. You fall to your knees as you attempt to pace your breathing so you won’t pass out.

Malarkey appeared from the path behind you.

“Y/F/N! Hey, you ok??” he asked concerned as he hooked you under the arm to help you up.

His voice was distant and muffled.

“I-I-” you stuttered, but words completely fail you when you see the right leg of the soldier that Doc was helping...more so the right leg that was completely missing. You gasp slapping your hand over your mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the scream of terror from escaping. You look at Malarkey with dread painted all over your face.

“It’s...Joe!?” you managed to say between panting as you start to hyperventilate.

Don looked over and understood what you were reacting to.

“Y/F/N, that’s Toye. Joe Toye.” he clarified slowly and deliberately so you could understand.

You stare back at him, progressively absorbing what he just said.

“Toye…” you echoed back.

Don nodded. You look back at Doc and Joe Toye, finally coming back down from your shock.

As Malarkey pulled you up, Doc turned around noticing you were there.

“Hey, Y/F/N, come over here and hold this so I can wrap it up.”

You swiftly go to help Eugene, seeing Toye’s pale face as you get closer.

“Hang in there, Toye.” you say in your best reassuring tone.

~~~~~~~

That night, Corporal Penkala and Sgt. Skip Muck's foxhole took a direct hit, killing them instantly, a moment witnessed by George Luz. A dud shell also landed next to Luz and Lipton's foxhole, fortunately sparing their lives.

The eventful day the Germans provided had you and Eugene running around like crazy, following the cries of ‘medic’ in every direction. Both of you were running on steam, and you had yet to see Joe Liebgott at all since this attack began.

When the bombardment finally calmed down, it was too dark to venture out to find him. You decided the safest bet was to stay put. You would’ve heard by now if Joe had been transferred to the aid station by now. Or at least you hoped.

The following day, the move on the town of Foy commenced, thankfully with LT Speirs in command. As Easy company rushed the field towards the town, a sniper effectively picks off the men as they approach. The sniper is eventually taken down by a mortar and the men quickly enter Foy. With the village filled with attacking Germans, Speirs makes a suicidal run through the German front line to make contact with I Company. However, the most fascinating thing about what Speirs did wasn't that he successfully connected with I Company, but that he ran back the same way he'd gone unscathed.

~~~~~~~

After taking the town of Rachamps a few weeks later, Easy takes a much-needed rest in the solace of a local convent. The Sisters have taken the liberty of bringing in their choir to sing for soldiers. Of the 145 men that entered Bastogne, only 63 remained. After you have tended to the wounds of the soldiers that were hurt during the assault, you wander amongst the men to find your Joe.

You find Lipton and Speirs conversating in one of the aisles.

“Hey, Y/L/N, good to see ya. You doin’ ok?” Lipton asks.

You nod, “Yes sir. You?”

“I’m just fine.” he responded softly.

You look at LT Speirs, “Sir?”

“I’m fine, Corporal.” he stated.

“You haven't seen Liebgott by chance, have you?” You ask, trying not to sound too distressed.

Lipton looked over the crowd of scattered soldiers.

“Yeah, he’s right over there. By the altar.”

You look where he had pointed and see Joe sitting on the floor against the stone wall by himself where dozens of lit candles stood on iron stands around him. You B line to him, picking up the pace to get to him as fast as you could. As you get within ear shot you call out to him.

“Joe!” you manage to gasp.

Joe quickly looked up upon hearing your voice. His face lit up when he saw you, hastily standing up to meet you halfway. When you reached him, he enveloped you, lifting you up from the ground as he pressed you against his body.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck as happy tears began to cascade from your bloodshot eyes. Joe’s chest heaving from joy was electrifying, leaving you a melting mess in his arms while he lowered to your feet.

“I thought they got you.” you whispered through your sobs.

Joe scoffed, “Those Krauts ain’t gettin’ me.”

He pulled away to look at your face. He used his gloved thumb to wipe your tears.

“I’m right here, Gams.”

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a desperate kiss. His arms snake around your waist, angling his head to intensify the lock he had on your lips. You unconsciously slack your jaw, allowing his tongue to slowly run along your lower lip. Although you both were lost in this magical moment, you suddenly became aware that you were ‘necking’ in a church and thought it best to behave before you both lost complete control.

You gently pull back as Joe’s disappointment clearly appeared across his face.

“We shouldn’t have done that here.” you admit.

Joe smiled at your properness.

“If God didn’t want it to happen in His house, He wouldn’t have let it.” Joe justified.

You raise an eyebrow and smirk at him.

“It’s inappropriate.” you countered.

“So, you’re saying if it had been right outside the church, it would’ve been fine?” he countered.

You giggle, “Perhaps.”

Joe laughed, “Well how about we find a place to rest, and we can just cuddle up?” he compromised.

“Yes.” you agree as he pulled you by the hand to where he was sitting.

The church had provided blankets to the men, which Joe had spread out on the floor picnic style. He sat against the wall, then offered his hand for you to hold as you lowered yourself down next to him. He folded his coat, placing it on his lap for you to lay your head on. You nuzzle into him, resting the side of your face onto the coat while he combed his finger softly through your mess of hair.

Before you drift off to sleep, over the choir singing in the background, you hear a low gravelly whisper in Yiddish:

“Ikh hab dir lib (I love you).”

~~~~~~~

February 9th, 1945

The plan had been to relieve Easy Company and head to Mourmelon. The following morning, orders changed after Hitler launched a counteroffensive in Alsace, and you were all to help hold the line in the town of Haguenau.

As Easy began loading up on trucks for Haguenau, PVT David Webster is dropped off by a depot Jeep,

"Thanks for the lift." Webster tells the driver.

As he greeted his battered comrades, he received no welcoming glance from any of them. The air of disdain grew thick as he passed each truck. He had been sent to an aid station long before Bastogne, and their collective resentment stemmed from his long stay in the hospital and his making no effort to return quickly and rejoin the company.

You're seated next to Joe in the bed of a deuce truck, huddled into him trying to keep warm as Webster walked up.

"Hey guys, some lieutenant told me to report to 2nd." he stated gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

He looked at one of the soldiers across from you and Liebgott.

"You're name's Jackson, right?

"That's right." Jackson replied dryly.

"Who's leading the platoon?" Webster queried.

"Sgt Malarkey is." Jackson responded.

"What? No officers?" Webster questioned.

"I guess you didn't hear." Liebgott began, "They're making Malarkey lieutenant. He's on the fast track now."

"Really? That's great." Webster noted.

"Yeah, ain't it?" Joe replied sarcastically.

"Hey, Jackson, help me up, will ya?" Webster said trhowing his gear bag up onto the bed of the truck as he hoisted himself up.

Webster sat on the bench next to Jackson, then noticed you half passed out on Joe's shoulder. He observed the medic brassard on your left arm.

"New medic?" he asked, motioning with his head towards you.

Joe looked down at you, shifting your face onto his chest as he wrapped his left arm around you to hold you steady when the truck picked up speed.

"No. She's been here since the beginning." he stated, shooting a cold glance at Webster.

"So, you came from the hospital?" Jackson asked Webster.

"Yeah."

"Must've liked that hospital, cuz, uh, we left Holland four months ago." Joe sneered.

Webster felt the bitterness, “Well I wasn’t there the whole time. There was rehabilitation, then the replacement depot-“

“-Well I’m sure you tried to bust out and help us in Bastogne.” Joe interjected.

“Well, I don’t know how I would’ve done that.” Webster defended.

“That’s funny, because Popeye found a way. So did Alley, right? Back in Holland,” Joe illustrated to Babe who was sitting on your left, “And Guarnere--”

“Yeah, where is Guarnere? He still your platoon sergeant?” Webster asked obliviously.

“No. He got hit.” Jackson answered bitterly.

The trucks arrived at Haguenau then came to a hard stop. The men started to unload from the rear. Joe gently nudged you.

“Zeit zu gehen, Liebling (Time to go, darling).” Joe whispered to you.

“She speaks German, too?” Webster probed.

You strain your eyes to look at him.

“Who’s this?” you ask Joe.

“Webster.” Joe answered plainly.

“Hm, don’t you look all bright eyed and bushy tailed.” You say through a yawn.

Joe scoffed, “Yeah, had a four month furrlow, now he’s ready for war.” Joe joked.

Joe jumped from the bed of the truck, then offered his hand to you to help you down which you accepted.

“Spread out. Hold along this line ‘til I figure out where we’re going.” Malarkey called out.

“Sarge? Sarge-“ Webster approached Malarkey.

An incoming shell soared over and hit a nearby building before Malarkey could respond. An unexpecting frightened Webster dove to the ground while LT Speirs spectated in the background like a child watching a fireworks display.

“What’s the matter there, Webster? A little nervous in the service?” Malarkey teased.

~~~~~~~

Later in one of the abandoned houses of the town, Captain Speirs and LT Lipton were setting the place up as Command Post. Lipton had been fighting off pneumonia since you left Rachamps and was looking rather rough. You and Eugene had been hounding him since to take it easy, but he has chosen to keep pushing through for the men.

“Sir, pneumonia has killed people with rest. You keep pushin’ yourself like this you’re gonna die.” You lecture him, “Luz, go grab the man a blanket, will ya?”

You call out to George as you guide him back down onto the couch.

“I’ll be alright, Y/L/N.” Lipton assurred.

“Sgt Lipton? Feeling all right?” Webster’s voice carried through the room.

You look up, slightly annoyed, “Look at him. He’s got pneumonia, does he look all right?” you hiss.

“Sorry to hear that.” Webster replied.

“What are you sorry about?” Luz said as he threw a wool blanket over Lipton, “He’s alive, he’s got a couch, a goddamn blanket. He’s snug as a bug.”

“Well, if the man would stay off his feet and keep warm...maybe eat something, he may actually recover.” You state firmly.

Lipton sighed, “I promise I will try harder to take it easy, Y/F/N.”

You hum is disbelief as you try to start a fire in the fireplace to heat some soup for him.

"You fuckin' Italians think you can solve everything with food." Luz said outloud.

You glare over your shoulder at him.

"Non vengo pagata abbastanza per essere tua madre (I don't get paid enough to be your mother)." you mumble under your breath in Italian.

Luz's face twisted with confusion, "Huh?"

"Nothin'." you reply curtly.

“Have a seat Webster, I’ll help you get situated.” Lipton said pointing to the chair nearest to him.

Webster observed you by the fireplace.

“So, you Liebgott’s girl?” Webster inquired.

You start the fire and hang a tin cup with water and broth above it before you respond.

“What if I am?”

He stared back in shock.

“Just wonderin’.”

“You got a lot to say, don’tchya? A little advice, David Webster, quit asking these guys so many questions about who went where. Don’t make them relive all their losses so soon. Got it?” you say with spitfire behind your voice.

Webster’s jaw fell open while his eyes widened.

“Um, yeah. Got it.” He uttered.

You give him one last look over and leave the room.

Upon your return, a replacement officer arrived while Captain Speirs moved about the room shuffling through some papers he had snatched from Lipton’s hands.

“Listen, for chrissake, will ya go back in the back and sack out? There’s beds back there with fresh sheets.” Speirs ordered Lipton before he could say anything.

“THANK YOU, SIR.” You project across the room to the Captain, “I guess it takes a direct order from the CO to get you to do what me and Doc been askin' you to do for days.” You assert with exasperation.

Lipton shot you a frustrated expression, “I will, sir, I was just tryin’ to make myself useful, sir.”

~~~~~~~

Another abandoned building was designated as barracks for the companies occupying the town. Floors that were able to bare weight, had bunks lining the walls in each room. You had a single bed to yourself that was conveniently arranged where the headboard of your bed met Liebgott’s bottom bunk. You lay on Joe’s bed briefly to rest your eyes.

The new officer, LT Jones, entered the room to let Malarkey know that at 0100, a mission was to commence across the river to obtain POW’s for interrogation. After Jones took Malarkey aside to go over a few details, Liebgott took Webster to the bunks to get the information out of him.

“Hey, Web. Come here, I wanna talk to you for a second.”

“Why??” Webster asked alarmed.

“You want some coffee?”

“No.” Webster replied quickly, paranoid by Joe’s sudden act of kindness.

Joe looked at Jackson, “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen what?” Jackson asked.

“Looeys since D-Day,” Joe replied, “This kid out of high school yet?”

Joe asked looking at LT Jones talking to Malarkey by the window.

“West Point.” Webster replied.

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson asked.

“He actually graduated with his son.” Webster clarified.

“Shit. So, uh, what do you know about this patrol thing?” Joe interrogated Webster.

You sat up from Joe’s bunk.

“Patrol?” you asked, somewhat panicked.

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied.

“Oh, come one, I know you know something.” Ramirez pushed.

“I don’t!” Webster insisted.

Joe spit at the floor, “Bullshit. You were there, right? At the CP. This is a prisoner snatch, right? Come on, Webster. Spill it.” Joe pressured.

You shifted onto the side of the mattress to hear better.

“Capt Speirs is to pick fifteen men. LT Jones wants to be one of them.”

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Joe said with a cynical smile.

“Probably could find fourteen replacements to help him out.” Ramirez added.

“Who’s going?” You chime in, asking Webster, “I assume they need a translator and a medic.”

“I don’t know who.” he replied.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know-” Joe accused Webster, “Who?”

Webster hesitated, “Well, if I tell you, you can’t let anyone know I let you know.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, Web. Who is it?” Joe urged.

Webster paused, “Heffron-“

“Oh, shit.” Babe huffed.

“-McClung, and Ramirez.” He ended.

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Joe asked.

“No. I don’t know. Not that I know of. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~

“2nd Platoon, on me!” Malarkey called right outside the shower tents that were set up for the soldiers to finally have a proper hot shower.

The men form up around him.

“All right, I’m leading this patrol. CO wants Grant, Liebgott, Wynn, Jackson, Shifty from 3rd platoon, and Webster.” He relayed.

“They don’t want anyone from first?” Cobb asked.

“No.”

“Is there anyone they don’t want from 2nd Platoon? Jesus Christ-” Joe expressed sarcastically rolling his eyes, “It’s always 2nd Platoon. I swear to God, if we were down to three guys, they’d still want us for it.”

Joe trudged off towards the showers.

You run after Malarkey, “Malark, they didn’t say anything about bringing a medic?”

“Those were the only names they gave me, Y/L/N.” he replied wryly.

“Maybe you can suggest I come with-“

“Y/F/N, those are the names. I’m sure there’s a reason they’re not sending you or Doc.” he barked.

You coward back slightly, trying not to push the subject any further.

He softened his demeanor realizing he was overreacting some, “I know you wanna be there, but we can’t afford to lose more people, let alone medics. Especially good ones. Get it?” he explained as warmly as he could muster.

“Ya, sarge, I understand.” You reply with a weak smile.

He gave you an encouraging nod and walked to the shower tent. You realized you were about to be surround by dozens of naked men and should probably head back to the bunks before you see too much.

~~~~~~~

Back at CP, Luz was unpacking what looked to be dozens of chocolate bars and candies sent from the Post Exchange from Stateside. His Easy Company brothers progressively encircling him like vultures trying to convince him to share as he counted them to record for inventory.

“Goddamn it, Johnny, you’re breaking my heart, I’m telling ya!” Luz started.

“Come on, George, just give me, I don’t know, 10, 15 bars.” Martin begged.

Luz slammed down a small pack of gum on the surface of the table, “Here, Juicy Fruit! Happy?”

Another soldier walked in behind Cobb and Martin, “Just got report of movement. 1st Sergeant Lipton wants you to lay a few bazooka rounds into a house across the river.”

“You’d think we’d get just one Hershey bar-“ Martin complained disregarding the soldier’s report.

“Come on, Luz, you’re 1st platoon at heart.” Cobb pushed.

“Jesus, Cobb, there’s not enough-“ Luz explained.

Liebgott entered the room with you right behind him. Webster and LT Jones entered not too long after you.

“Whoa, Hershey bars!!” Joe exclaimed.

“Where!?” you ask trying to look over Joe’s shoulder on your tiptoes.

Luz rolled his eyes, “Jesus Christ!”

“Wait your turn Liebgott, Y/L/N.” Cobb commanded.

“Yeah, yeah, who they for?” Liebgott dismissed.

“Not you! Not even for Y/F/N!” Luz established sternly.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “I am offended, George! Have I not taken care of you when you needed it?”

“Yeah, and so has Doc but I don’t see him in here asking for handouts.” He replied.

“Oh, come on, George, one bar for me and Y/F/N, we’ll share one.” Joe pushed.

“No! There’s not enough to go around!” Luz claimed.

“Hey, big mouth, give the kid a Hershey bar.” A familiar voice projected across the room.

Everyone looked up and saw Frank Perconte back from the aid station after receiving a bullet by the Germans in his left buttocks.

The guys laughed collectively.

“You gotta be shittin’ me!” Luz said with a wide smile.

“Look who it is!” Joe added.

“What’s up guys? I like what you did with the place, George.” Perconte jested.

“Yeah, yeah, I did good. How you feelin’?”

“As long as you keep your hands off my ass, I’ll be fine.”

Luz chuckled, “Here have a Hershey.”

He tossed a candy bar across the room to Frank.

“He gets a fuckin’ Hershey bar?” Joe protested.

“Well, he got shot in the ass!” Luz retorted.

Martin walked over to Perconte, “Did I tell you to stick your big ass out in the wind?”

“No! But I expect a little sympathy from you, right?” Frank repsonded.

“Yeah, should I rub it for ya?” Martin teased trying to spank his left butt cheek.

Perconte quickly shuffled to the side, “Get the fuck outta here!”

“Can you believe this guy? I try to get him out of the fuckin’ war, he comes straight back!” Martin stated.

“Yeah, well, that’s not what I heard. I heard the Krauts are finished.” Frank said.

“Yeah, well, just to make sure, we gotta row across the fucking river tonight, grab a few, and ask them in person.” Joe explained.

Frank’s disappointment surfaced across his face.

“Ya kidding me?”

Joe shook his head, “Wish I was. Welcome back, Frank.”

~~~~~~~

At 1700 back at CP later that day, a briefing was to be held by Capt Winters about the upcoming patrol for that night. The soldiers listed on the roster to go sat around a long dining room oak table with LT Jones standing awkwardly off to the side.

With Capt Speirs’ and Lipton’s permission, you also attended the briefing, standing across the room where you had a clear view of Joe sitting at the head of the table. You could see the guys secretly whispering their opinions to eachother about LT Jones leading the mission instead of Malarkey.

“No way. Not on his first day.” Grant stated.

Joe rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully, “Well, do you see any other officer here?”

Webster, standing behind Joe’s chair, crossed his arms, then looked at Lt Jones sympatheticlly, knowing the frustrations of being doubted for being “the new guy.” Another handful of Easy soldiers entered the room.

“Who’s in charge of this bullshit?” one of them asked. He looked over his shoulder at LT Jones. “No he ain’t.” he determined outwardly.

“Well, if he ain’t, it’s you, Chuck. Or Shifty, or Mo.” Babe asserted.

“Well, that would be better.” Joe appended.

You feel your stomach twist into knots at his words. And as if he felt your anxiousness, he shifted his attention to you, meeting your gaze across the room. He gave you his signature infectious Liebgott grin, and you couldn't help but smile back.

“Ten-hut!” Jones called out to bring the room to attention as Captain Winters walked into the room.

“At ease.” Winters instructed the men.

Winters explained that they were to cross the river in four rubber boats with LT Jones, the ranking officer will go along as an observer. Sergeant Martin was to lead the patrol in Malarkey’s place. He assured the guys that the battalion will be covering their withdrawal with the POW’s, and were to utilize the whistles provided to signal to them to blast the outpost after they’ve safely returned to the boats.

“Remember, it’s about prisoners,” Winters reiterated firmly, “-Don’t pop the first thing that moves.”

Winters flashed a brief glance at Liebgott before continuing.

“Clear?”

The men mutually responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Picked your assault team?” he asked Martin.

“McClung, Sisk, Cobb, Garcia, and Webster, as translator. The rest of you guys, a base of fire with Sergeant Grant. You speak German, right, Webster?” Martin bellowed at Webster across the table.

“Yeah, a little bit.” Webster replied meekly.

Not before wishing his men good luck, Winters made his exit.

“A little German?” Joe began, “-his German’s as good as mine. And Y/F/N’s.”

Joe motioned with his head towards you. You look at the floor somewhat flattered, but also frustrated that two soldiers who speak German would be going on this mission when they really only needed one. This thought had you pushing down angry tears.

Coincidently, Webster had the same thoughts.

As you file outside with the guys out of CP, you immediately head back to the barracks so Joe wouldn't see you upset before he left. Webster approached Capt Winters, Capt Speirs, Martin, and LT Jones.

“Sir?”

“Yes?” Winters acknowledged.

“Liebgott and I, we both speak German. You said fifteen men, there’s sixteen of us, including two translators.” Webster elluded.

“Well, fine,” Speirs began, “Hey, Liebgott. You wanna sit this one out?”

Joe’s obvious elation displayed on his face, “Yes, sir,” he looked at Web, “Thanks, buddy!”

~~~~~~~

I’m dedicating this chapter to my lovelies @wordsaresimple-imnot @mrs-greenside @skiesofrosie @yourspeirs for sharing and fueling my everlasting enthusiasm of BoB ❤️🪖♠️🦅

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