#vera cecile doyle

[cielie-voss]

Vera Doyle - Easy Company's redheaded Angel

Part two

Part 2 of my band of brothers fanfiction with my lovely Medic Vera Doyle.

Part One

Part Three

Masterlist

After arriving back in England after D-Day, Vera felt homesick for the first time and tried to drink ist away.

This Part (and the next) was inspired by @bandofspeirs fanfic Blindsighted. (You should absolutely read it, I love it.) 💕

Warnings: swearing, bad flirting, alcohol consumption.

She had never been homesick. Neither when she emigrated from France, nor during her training with the US Army, or when she came to Aldbourne, the last stop before the invasion.

But when she came back to England after jumping into Normandy, after jumping into her homeland to save and liberate her people, she felt that bittersweet heartbreak for the very first time in her young life. She missed her old home. Her carefree life among the fig trees and rose bushes. But now she knew with certainty that she would never get that life back. That she would never see this country the way she once did. This land she once knew and loved no longer existed as she remembered it.

Plagued by these feelings, she accepted Bill's invitation to accompany him and several other men to a bar. She rarely drank with the men. A certain fear was always buzzing around in her head. A fear that she would lose control of herself and that some men might take advantage of that. While she trusted every single one of her friends, there were plenty of men she didn't want to trust blindly.

But that evening she pushed that thought to the farthest corner of her mind. She wanted to drink. No. She didn't just want to drink, she wanted to get drunk to forget this nagging feeling of homesickness. At least for one evening.

At their table were Malarkey, Muck, Penkala, Toye, Guarnere and a replacement named Babe they met a few evenings earlier. Men came and left the table, George was joking around and working hard alongside Buck Compton to wager a few packs of cigarettes. Young women took the soldiers onto the dance floor, people laughed, celebrated and lived life. Everyone was in a good mood except for one person. Vera. She hung over her pint of beer and stared at the vanishing beer crown.

The bartender noticed her mental absence and quickly shoved a glass of whiskey in front of her.

"Here, on the house." His pitying tone only made her grimace. She didn't need sympathy. Especially not from someone like him who didn't even know her. She's too proud for that. Still, she wrapped her pale fingers around the glass, nodded her head in thanks to the bartender, and raised the glass to eye level. For a short moment she examined the almost gold shimmering liquid, turning and swirling the glass a few times before she emptied it with a sip. The whiskey left a burning feeling and she felt every millimeter of the liquid flowing down her throat, but she enjoyed it. That was exactly what she needed at the moment. She paused for a moment, closed her eyes and internalized that well-known burn that reminded her of her father. After the burning had subsided, she took a deep breath and gently licked the last drops off her lip. Then a sound snapped her out of her trance.

Guarnere had ordered another round of beer and now set the full glasses on the table with a loud clunk. She still had her elbows on the table and she was now looking over the glass at Bill with half-open eyes. He smiled at her and handed her a full glass of beer.

"Now drink. We're alive, we're here, we have to celebrate!" Was his simple request. She drained her first glass in one gulp, pushing it aside along with the whiskey glass. No sooner had she toasted with Bill and Toye than the two were already dragged back onto the dance floor by a couple of pretty ladies, leaving her alone at the table with her glass and her thoughts.

She grabbed a lighter from the table and nervously ran it through her fingers. After a while this glass was also empty and with a simple hand movement she informed the bartender that he should bring her another one. Malarkey slid into the chair next to her, a huge grin on his face, his cheeks as red as his hair. He watched her for a moment and realized that she hadn't even noticed him. Only when she brought her third beer to her lips did he speak to her, his grin had disappeared in the meantime.

"How much beer have you had already? You shouldn't drink that much.", he admonished her cautiously, but only got a cold look from her.

"Stop me and I'll kill you.", were her only words. After taking a sip and resting the glass back on the table, she turns to him

"Shouldn't you be dancing with the others too or..." she let her eyes wander around the room. Men danced, played darts, enjoyed themselves with the ladies (and not just by dancing.) "...whatever?" Her gaze was now back on Don, who gave her a penetrating look. After a short silence, he shrugged.

"Why should I? You're sitting here alone with your...", he counted the glasses in front of her. "With your third beer?!" He looked at her again, a little worried. "You shouldn't drink so much, Vera."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Don. Va te faire foutre!", she just grumbled and demonstratively took another sip.

The alcohol made her otherwise unremarkable Irish accent thicker and harder for everyone else to follow her words. She usually only got that accent when she was talking fast and excitedly, when her words flowed out of her mouth faster than her brain could form the sentences. And the more agitated or indignant she became, the more likely she was slipping words from the French language into her sentences.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit..." he couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Of course I'm fine!" She blurted out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Do I look like I'm not feeling ok, for fucks sake?!" Malarkey's brain needed a few moments to understand her words. But he saw how tense she was, how empty and burned out. As soon as they were pulled from the frontline, he knew something was wrong with her. At first he blamed it on the stress of the experience of fighting, killing and seeing death right on the front lines of a war. He thought she was haunted by the faces of the fallen soldiers, the faces of those she couldn't save. But he quickly realized that there was something else that was bothering her. Something much deeper than that.

"It's alright. I'm alright." Her voice was downcast, dry as she assured him she was fine. But this statement was not really credible. He knew her too well for that. She was too proud to let anyone know how she felt.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" His hand found her forearm and gripped it tightly, reassuring her that she wasn't alone.

"Thanks, Don." She tried to give him a smile, but it wasn't really convincing. "Now join the others and have fun." Before he got up, he took a deep breath, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek without thinking and then followed her instructions.

More beers, short conversations and awkward attempts at flirting followed, which she had to put up with.

After her fourth beer, Babe dragged her onto the dance floor. Bill, who now affectionately called her little witch, was worried about her. No one has ever seen her this depressed and hurt. She has always been the company's sunshine, always laughing and smiling. He wouldn't be able to make her laugh by himself, but he knew how much she loved to dance. And his new friend Babe could dance like no other. So he persuaded him to lure Vera onto the dance floor.

Her mind was already tipsy after four beers and one whiskey and she found it hard to resist the new guy. Although she was initially reluctant to move to the music on the dance floor with Babe, she still enjoyed it. And after just a few moments, her dance partner managed to make her laugh.

"What an amazing laugh!" he coaxed as he leaned forward and spoke directly into her ear over the loud music.

"Oh shut up," she admonished, still laughing and turning her head away, cheeks flushed. Laughing, he hugged the young woman and led her across the dance floor for the rest of the song.

As the next song started, Bill waved at the two of them, another round of beers on the table. Laughing, the two sat down at the table next to Bill, followed a little later by Malarkey, Muck and Penkala. After a quick toast from Alex, they clinked their glasses. But before Vera could touch the glass with her lips, another replacement approached her from the side.

"I wonder what that pretty mouth can do." He tried to flirt suggestively with her. It took her drunken mind a moment to understand his pick-up line and before she could answer, Bill jumped in. He pushed himself between him and Vera from behind the flirty replacement.

"That mouth can do a lot of swearing, kid. Trust me. Now fuck off." He pressed his index finger against the chest of the puzzled-looking soldier, who after a moment turned and walked away. With an eye roll she put her hand on Bill's shoulder and he turned to her with a satisfied grin.

"Oh, Bill, my hero. What would I do without him?" she blurted out theatrically.

"Pick up a guy for example," was Penkala's reply, making everyone else laugh.

"Oh come on, that wasn't a guy, that was just a kid." Bill replied, bringing his glass to his lips. "Vera deserves better." He took a long gulp and put the glass down.

"Oh really? Something better? Someone like you or who's on your mind?" Malarkey interjected with a grin and nudged Bill with his elbow.

"God, no, that woman would drive me crazy!" Bill raised his hands in defeat. "I think someone like..." He thought for a moment, looked around the bar and then turned back to Vera with a cheeky grin. "Someone like Buck Compton maybe, am I right?" He wagged his eyebrows meaningfully to emphasize his point. He noticed how she looked at the tall blonde man and how she laughed when they talked to each other.

"What?" Her reaction was simple: she was startled. Sure, Buck Compton was obviously handsome, kind, courteous, and a genuinely lovely person. But the idea had never occurred to her. She had often imagined, albeit unintentionally, what life would be like with one of the men in the company outside of the war. But never even a single scenario had awakened any feelings in her.

The conversation quickly fizzled out before anyone could reply, as Bill was pulled onto the dance floor again by a pretty blonde, with Babe and Don following them both.

"Fancy a round of darts?" Skip leaned on the table next to Vera and gave her a questioning look while she happily sipped at her beer.

She shook her head and put the glass down again. "No thanks. But I'm happy to watch you from here." Her heavy Irish accent made Skip a little worried and he glanced at the empty glasses.

"Okay." He grabbed the beer she had just put back on the table and took it with him as he got up. Before she could protest, he said, "You shouldn't drink so much!" and disappeared into the crowd with Alex.

Snorting, she leaned back and ordered another beer with a simple wave of her hand. "Why does everybody keep telling me I shouldn't drink that much?", she wondered.

[cielie-voss]

Vera Doyle - Easy Company's redheaded Angel

Part One

Part two

Part three

Masterlist

This is a story about my OC Vera Cecile Doyle. It started as a Oneshot but somehow turned out to be much longer. 😂 The first chapter is a bit boring, but you need to star somewhere, right? Ok, so, now let me introduce to you my favorite redheaded woman: Vera Cecile Doyle.

I do not own anything but my own character (Vera Doyle). This fanfiction is only based on the tv series band of brothers and the portrayal by the actors, not on the real heroes of the airborne who fought during world war 2.

She was 13 when they left France and moved to America. Two years after Hitler came to power and the rise of the Nazis. Her father, an Irish doctor, fell in love with a French nurse during the last great war and stayed in France for love after the war. Alsace was her beloved home, in the small village of Weyersheim she felt comfortable between fig trees and rose bushes. The world seemed to be at her feet, as soon as she opened her mouth and crooned soft melodies like the birds, everyone was instantly hooked.

The red-haired girl was often found in the fields with the horses, goats, sheep or in the stable with the kittens. She liked to climb trees and enjoyed the fresh fruit she picked from the branches.

And although she missed her home and her family, she was never homesick. She found her second home in the USA, even if she never felt as comfortable as in France. Shortly after her arrival, her wonderful singing fell silent and she only let it sound to herself. For a long time, she struggled to fit in, make friends. Although she didn't stand out much in Louisiana when she slipped French words into her sentences, she struggled a lot with being accepted by others. She was always an outsider. The redhead with a French mother and an Irish father. Many nicknames have accumulated over the years. Witch. Paddy. Froggy. Frenchie. Ginger. New ones kept coming and at some point she stopped counting.

Since her father was a doctor and even had his own practice, it made sense that she would become a nurse like her mother. And she was good. Actually very good. The patients loved her. There was something very specific about her manner, people could feel comfortable in her presence without her doing anything, they trusted her and immediately felt better when she just walked into the room and smiled. Not only did she learn how to treat simple wounds, her father took her to every patient, explained and showed her everything he knew until she finally knew almost as much as he did. She fixed broken bones, relocated joints under his supervision, and with his help also tended to more serious injuries, men who got caught in a saw and cut off a finger, gunshot wounds when a shotgun accidentally went off. If she had wanted, she could have replaced her father on many days.

After Pearl Harbor was bombed and the USA was involved in the war, like most young people her age, she enlisted in the army. Like her mother, she wanted to take care of wounded soldiers as a nurse and bring new hope to the injured with her kind. Of course, her parents weren't thrilled about it. They survived the last war, its horrors, death and destruction. And they didn't want to subject their little princess to that. But she never cared about what others said, she always did what came into her mind and nobody could stop her. One of her father's bad traits that she inherited.

Her talents and exceptional knowledge were quickly noticed. She originally volunteered for USANC, but after a few months she was offered to join a unit as a medic. Something completely new. Only a few women were granted the opportunity to join an actual battalion. Of course she agreed. She always wanted to do her best and probably she could do that better directly at the front and in the field than just in a hospital. After a few weeks she was assigned to Easy Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division, the best of the best.

Although she was really happy about it and incredibly proud, some worries entered her mind. She was alone among men. She knew it wouldn't be taken very well if a woman, the weaker sex, mingled with a company of men. But she stood by her decision. After all, there must have been a reason why she had been offered this job. In the fall of 1942 she met Easy Company and joined them in their training.

"I'm Vera Cecile Doyle." With a friendly smile on her lips, she took the man's hand in front of her and shook it.

"I am pleased to meet you. I'm George, George Luz." His dark eyes studied her as he shook her hand. Neither of them knew that this would develop into an incredible friendship. George was the first to introduce himself and take her under his wing. He took care of her and introduced her to the others. He's the reason she finally fit in, the first time since she left France.

“Another Irishman? As if Malarkey wasn't enough.” was Bill Guarnere's first statement when George invited her to a bar on a Friday night. But a close friendship was soon to develop between the two, which could best be described as a love-hate relationship.

She first met Skip and Penkala properly on a rainy day. They came to her rescue when she slipped through the mud and cracked her ankle on her first run up the Currahee. Of course, Sobel immediately forbade the men to help her, but when Sobel was nowhere in sight, the two supported her again and again until they arrived safely at the foot of the mountain again.

"Come on, we'll help you.", Skip offered her when she could barely walk and hobbled to the Mess Hall after everyone else. He carefully put her arm over his shoulder to support her. Alex did the same with her other arm and together they brought her out of the rain to a barrack where Eugene Roe examined her ankle.

Of course she could have taken care of her ankle on her own, but the dark-haired Cajun man didn't give her any other chance. A piercing look was enough to silence her. He reluctantly bandaged her ankle after she repeatedly insisted that everything was fine. He would have preferred a real doctor to look at it. But she thought a simple, firm cast would do. Even later, not only Roe will despair of her stubbornness.

She gritted her teeth and finally walked into the Mess Hall with Muck and Penkala where they sat down with George, Perconte, Bull and some others. For a long time she didn't notice another redhead watching her eat, she was too deep in a conversation with George, who was sitting in front of her.

"Are you going to stare her to death or are you finally going to talk to her?" whispered Muck to Malarkey. Both sat diagonally across from Vera and Muck kept trying to have a conversation with Malarkey, who in turn was unresponsive.

"What?" It took a hearty jab with the elbow to snap Malarkey out of his trance-like state and turn back to Muck.

"Talk to her before your eyes start popping out of your head.", he asked Don, but Malarkey just shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to talk his way out of the situation.

"No, maybe later. I don't want to interrupt their conversation." Muck and Penkala both rolled their eyes and Penkala, who was sitting next to Vera, finally nudged her arm.

"Hey, your parents are from Ireland, aren't they?" he finally asked when Vera turned to face him. Mouthful of mashed potatoes, she nodded hastily.

"Yes, my dad's from Ireland," she explained after swallowing the tasteless mash.

"What a coincidence!" Muck clapped his hands in surprise, and although his surprise was poorly acted, or perhaps because of it, Vera inevitably had to smile. "Our dear friend Don here also has Irish roots!"

Vera looks at Malarkey a little surprised, but she should have noticed already that there was something irish about him.

"Really?" she asked. Malarkey nodded a little uncertainly at first, but after a reassuring smile from Penkala, he started talking and smiled politely at her. A lively conversation developed about their origins and they realized that their families came from the same area. Donald talked about his family, Vera about hers, Muck and Penkala leaned back with a satisfied grin and watched as something very special developed between the two. Later both should be able to understand each other without words, as if they had an inner connection to each other that allows them to hear each other's thoughts.

Later, when everyone reunited for the next exercise session, the two Irishmen were practically glued to each other, whispering, laughing and talking to each other as if they were old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

"Imma kill the guy who came up with the brilliant idea of ​​bringing the two irish bastards together," Guarnere growled at the sight and turned to Joe Toye. Joe, however, had to make an effort to hide his grin.

But all in all she settled in well in the company and found her place. She developed deep friendships with some of the men. She, Malarkey, Muck and Penkala were almost inseparable and George Luz rarely left her side.

Even though the training was hell and Sobel tried everything to make their lifes as difficult and uncomfortable as possible, she loved the time there. She could finally do something meaningful with what she loved doing. Her strive for challenge and significance was fulfilled in the Army.

The day of days was fast approaching. Before they left the country by ship, she had the chance to say goodbye to her family. Her mother cried bitterly and even her father, whom she never saw cry, shed a few tears as he hugged them goodbye. No one knew if they would ever see each other again. And so they stood on the platform for minutes and hugged each other.

Vera had had her hair cut the morning before. Her red locks, gleaming like copper in the sun, barely reached her shoulders now. As a souvenir of her beloved daughter, her mother took one of the strands, wrapped a fine ribbon around it and placed it in the box on her bedside table along with her most valuable jewelry. Her father had insisted on having one last photograph taken so they could forever look at their innocent daughter when they missed her. Vera also put a photograph of her parents in her breast pocket so that she could always carry it with her.

Although she missed her old homeland very much and would give anything to be back in France, she prayed to go to the Pacific so she would not see the suffering and destruction in Europe with her own eyes. It would kill her from the inside.

The train was approaching and she already had her mother at arm's length. But she tried again to cling to her only daughter.

"Maman...", Vera sighed and now had to fight back the tears herself.

"N'y vas pas, ma chérie, restes avec moi." Her mother sobbed, but Vera couldn't comply with the request to stay with her.

"I love you. I'll be back, I promise!" She had to say goodbye to her parents and disappeared into the crowd that was piling onto the train. Wistfully she looked out of the window and saw how her parents were getting smaller and smaller until the train went around a curve and the small station disappeared.