The atmosphere in the pub was one of ignorant bliss, the men and I knew that the unknown ahead of us could mean our deaths, but that was then and this was now. Being back in Aldbourne meant that we were safe with a roof over our heads and warm chow in our stomachs. That of course also meant that there was ungodly amount of alcohol that needed to be consumed. The whole ordeal of returning to England after the Carentan counter attack incident was a little surreal; I couldn't really wrap my head around the idea that three people knew my secret. It became apparent quickly however that I could and would have to trust the men indefinitely.

That was the situation I found myself in now, watching one of my secret keepers joyfully laughing over a pint of beer. He caught my eye and gave an exaggerated wave; a consequence from all the drinking he had done.

Did I also mention that every time I laid my eyes on him, that I wanted to kiss senseless? Yeah…that was a new development. Irish attract other Irish; I guess.

I forced my eyes away from the waving buffoon, and caught sight of Cobb making his way towards a small group of replacements; I didn't have to hear him to know that he was giving the young privates grief. Grief they didn't deserve. A mousy private turned to speak to Cobb before hesitating, and finally removing a pin from his uniform. He placed it on the table and made a hasty exit. No doubt from the embarrassment Cobb caused. I took a gulp from my now warm beer before placing it back on the table, and rose from my seat. Ready to tear the man a new one for causing the kid distress. I paused halfway to the table when I saw the man they called Bull step up to the table. Several men around me looked at me and stared, confused as to why I would just be standing on my lonesome in the middle of the pub floor. Bull said something in passing to the blond jerk and picked up what I now knew was as the presidential unit citation pin, and left after the mousy private. Cobb smacked the private next to him and spoke viciously before I arrived.

"Are you really that petty Cobb?" I asked, making my presence known to him. The other Privates at the table stared at both Cobb and I, eyes wide in surprise.

"You don't know what you're talking about Griffin." He threateningly stated, his posture turning even more defensive then before.

"That's Sergeant to you Private. You know that we're all on the same team here, you literally just chased away the man that might have to have your back the time we go into the shit." I angrily shouted. Vaguely I could make out that everyone around us fell silent. Thankfully one Don Malarkey stepped between the two of us.

"Guys lets turn it down a notch. We have to trust each other inexplicably, Cobb you need to go have a drink and stop preying on the new guys. Grif you need to know better, don't rile him up."

Cobb and I stared at each other momentarily before Cobb huffed to himself angrily and stomped off. I quickly grabbed the half filled pint of beer from Don's hand and took a large gulp. The weight of all the drama and decisions I've made were starting to tear me apart, piece-by-piece.

"Hey that's mine!" Don whined, he reached forward clawing at me hoping to retrieve his beer.

"Don, not now, please." I pleaded before taking off towards the pub exit. I pushed my way pass Smokey and Lipton and out the door. I gulped down the rest of beer from Don's glass and tossed it aside. The sound of shattering glass fell on deaf ears, because the only thing on my mind was where I could find a different source of alcohol at this hour. Unfortunately the process of actually figuring out an alternate alcohol or liquor source took little to no time, which meant I didn't have the time to realize how incredible stupid I was being. Being four and a half beers in for me obviously wasn't a good thing, because it had me thinking that raiding the cellar of the family I was boarded with that was filled with beer was a good thing.

The next thing I knew, I was across the small town of Aldbourne and pulling at the locked cellar doors. I threw logic to the wind and planted a foot on each door and began to pull, not noticing that my foot placement wasn't going to help my cause any or that I had yet bypassed the chain that securely kept the doors closed. I let out a huff of frustration before tearing off my uniform dress coat and throwing it aside.

As if the loss of an article of clothing would make all of the difference on my quest.

I quickly loosened my tie and rolled up my shirts sleeves, I bent over and grabbed ahold of the rock at my feet and heaved myself back upright. I positioned myself over the offending chain door and forcibly brought the rock in contact with it. A loud clang filled the air and I stilled, waiting to see if the noise I created caused the slumbering family to awake. I stood in place for a moment waiting for any sign that the family had risen, the sound of footfalls or the turning on of lights. The sound of crickets met my ears and the undisturbed darkness around me coaxed me to continue. I pounded the rock continuously into the lock, as if the constant attacks were going to somehow cure all the stress that had latched onto me.

Finally the lock gave way and now the precious alcohol was now within my reach. I dropped the rock on the ground beside the lock, and pulled at the chain holding the handles together. With no care in the world; other than the liquor that I pursued so stupidly – I swung open on of the cellar doors. My feet stomped noisily down the cement steps of the cellar, the darkness of the room didn't help me one bit. I reached into my pants' pocket and pulled out my lighter to use as a source of some light. I grabbed the first bottle of hard liquor that I could set my eyes on, I reached up to a shelf and pulled down the first bottle I found. It didn't matter what it was, it wasn't like I broke into some farmer's cellar for a nice glass of fine whiskey.

I unscrewed the top of the bottle and took an overly large gulp of the spirit, the liquid burned as it slid down my throat. Ignoring the burn; I wiped the excess whiskey away with the back of my hand and practically skipped up the stairs. Once I reached the top I hopped over the last step and spun in place. I bent over and grabbed a door and swung it closed. I took another swig and kicked the other door closed.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

Who knew that consuming most; if not all of a bottle of whiskey was going to fuck me up as much as it did. The whole night was spent with me stumbling around Aldbourne, just wallowing about my problems…not caring about anything else in the world. Not Hitler, and not his Nazi soldiers. That's right, all that mattered was me and this bottle of whiskey.

The calm, cool Aldbourne night shifted from silent to rowdy as the men of the 506 left the pub to return to their beds, to get a few hours sleep before we would have to jump. This time Holland. I stumbled past the slightly inebriated men and giggled.

Giggled. Not fake manly chuckle…a giggle worthy of a love struck teenage girl.

Thankfully none of the men seemed to notice how I had turned into a giggling schoolgirl. Well… almost none. One soul did notice my girlish demeanor and quickly pulled me away from the travelling crowd of soldiers.

"Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Donald Malarkey's happier disposition from earlier did a complete 180. His brows furrowed as his eyes took in my drunken state. He plucked out the almost completely empty bottle of alcohol from my grasp and I whined in protest. His month set in a straight line; clearly he wasn't a fan of drunken Sam.

"C'mon Donnie, I'm just having a tasting – no big deal." I brushed off his concern, too drunk to take it to heart. He sighed, reached over and straightened my ruffled dress uniform. Hoping to pass me off as somewhat presentable if an officer where to walk by and catch me.

"Come on, Sam, I'll walk you back." He gently placed his hand on my back, guiding me back to the house I was set up in.

The trip back itself wasn't a long one per say, but being as out of it as I was –my nonsense must have made it longer for him. On the other hand, before I knew it he stopped us in front of a little farmhouse…the scene of my crime.

"Don, if I was a girl. You would be a great catch." I smiled and let out a small hiccup. He raised an eyebrow at me, and his lips twitched up in amusement.

"Sam, you are a girl."

Once again an uncharacteristic giggle escaped my lips at this comment, it was hard to believe that it was like yesterday that we were at each other's throat. I threw that all to the wind and reached up and gripped the back of the redhead's neck, my lips sloppily collided with his.

Through the fuzziness of being drunk, I felt Don's body go stiff like a rock against me. The fog clouding my mind and judgment cleared momentarily as I remembered who I was, who I was pretending to be, and who he was. I instantly took a step back, putting the necessary distance between us.

"Shit. I am so sorry, Don," I start to say, trying to scramble my brain for an appropriate excuse besides that I'm dead drunk. "I-" I begin again, but am cut short as Don pulled me in by the waist and kissed me in return.

My mind was already numb with alcohol, but in every place he touched I went numb too. With his lips on mine, his hands gripping my hips possessively, and his chest smashed heartily against my own, I could barely breathe.

The kiss was aggressive, yet languid. I could feel the want but also tenderness being emitted into the air around us, but wasn't quite sure if the feeling was arising from me, from him, or both. I didn't quite care at this point as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to pull him closer. The numbness was a high.

The maneuver apparently sparked something within Don, because he was soon backing me up until I hit the brick wall of the house. His lips left mine, but soon pursued their way to my jaw and down my neck.

A moan was bubbling in my throat, so I bit my lip and tugged at his red hair in an effort to restrain myself. Even in my addled state, I knew I needed to be quiet, although the reason wasn't clear.

But it all abruptly stopped.

It was like any other jump, except this one was in broad daylight – and we were potentially going into combat with greener than green replacements. Having these guys in our squad wasn't what we called a good time, most of the time I felt like we were a bunch of babysitters. None of them looked like they were old enough to be shaving, much less be fighting in a war. By far the most annoying thing about them was that they were all piss and vinegar or gung ho about the idea of killing Krauts, but now that we were in the air, their true colours shined. They all looked like they wanted to go home and cry to their mothers.

"Jesus." I whispered to myself. For I couldn't believe that on top of the massive splitting headache, that I would have to deal with the possibility of them jumping ship…so to speak.

On the other hand, having to deal with them would keep me distracted from the awkwardness that existed between Malarkey and myself now. The aftermath of what I refer to as the Biggest Fuck Up of All Time was a nightmare. With Don kind of, sort of avoiding me, that meant that I'd taken two-steps back with the Easy guys. Without Don there as a buffer, most didn't like to initiate any form of small talk. Also, that I did one thing that you should never do when in the middle of a war… kiss your fellow soldier.

The inside of the plane glared red, it was time to see what these replacements were made of. Everyone inside the C-47 stood up as the orders we given, like clockwork all of us patted down the guy in front of us. In the back of my mind I could hear the joking voice of Blackburn saying that equipment check was just an excuse to grab the ass of the guy in front of you. If you would have asked me if I had imagined grabbing Malarkey's ass, then I would have flat out denied it. The light turned green and the line started shuffling forward, Toccoa men and replacements jumping in quick succession from the door of the plane. Out of nowhere the line stopped, causing me to bump into the back of the Private in front of me.

I looked over his shoulder and growled. The standing in the door was another replacement.

"I swear to God Private, if you don't jump out of this Goddamn aircraft in the next 2 seconds – I'll make sure you jump." I shouted over the roar of the C-47's blaring engines.

Both Privates looked over at me with horrified eyes.

"One!" I yelled, putting my hand on the arm man in front of me– ready to push past him need be. "Tw-" The replacement took a step back, forgetting about the door behind him – and fell. The remaining man looked at me in horror, half expecting me to push him out. I cocked my eyebrow and nudged my head towards the door. The young man didn't need to be told twice, as he leapt out of the plane. A small chuckle escaped me before I followed suit, jumping out after him.

My body absorbed the small shock from the landing as I rolled over and quickly unclipped myself from the parachute harness. As I got to my feet I noticed the same two Privates struggling to remove their harness. I jogged over to them and made quick work of popping the chest buckles.

"The first jump is the hardest. You'll be alright." They quickly followed after me as we chased after the most the rest of the company.

I don't know what I was expecting; certainly not platoons of paratroopers frolicking though Netherlands' luscious green field. Okay so maybe we weren't frolicking, but it was way too suspicious for us to be able to just waltz by a village that was supposedly occupied by Germans without getting shot at. It seemed like I wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing, for multiple men shared a worrying look between them. I couldn't blame them, for all we knew it could be another trap like Carentan – where they let us get close to the town limits before firing upon us.

I closed my eyes at the thought of Carentan; the mangled bodies flashed though my mind briefly. I viciously shook my head to clear myself of those thoughts; this wasn't the time or place for me to mentally check out.

Up ahead of the pack; Bull Randleman came to a complete stop at a wooden fence and couched down behind it. It wasn't long until we came to a stop behind him. Still crouching, I slowly made my way over to him, all while making sure some sniper didn't pop up out of no where and fire a shot off into my skull.

"What do we got, Bull?" I inquired, a little out of breath from all the running.

All he responded with was his finger pointing at something. I turned my head expecting the worst only to see a woman tying off an orange sheet in a window.

"Hold your fire." Bull whispered to the men around him.

The sight before me was unlike anything I had seen in my 21 years, it wasn't as crazy as the 4th of July celebrations or as grand as the Macy Day parades back home – but it held much more significance. Men, women, and children flocked into the streets to mob us, the American who would for sure stop the Germans. Men were being pulled aside left and right for pictures and brief kisses from extremely thankful Dutch women.

Speaking of kisses, I was again hauled into the arms of another young woman and smothered with her eager lips. I attempted to pull away as I had all the previous times, except this proved to be extremely different – for the unknown young women's grip on back of my head was shockingly strong.

'Mother of God, save me.' I thought miserably as I attempted to once again escaped the clutches of the eager Dutch woman.

A sudden yank pulled me away from the kissing grasp to freedom. I turned to look at my savior, only to have an icy feeling take over me. There starring back at me was none other than Donald Malarkey; the key factor for operation Biggest Fuck Up of All Time. I cracked a small thankful smile that without a doubt most likely looked awkward and pathetic.

What had I done?

Sorry for such a long wait, hopefully it was worth it.

Can't wait to hear what you guys think.