“Let us live, for we must die” @johnwickthefish - Tumblr Blog

Chapter 2: Train Harder

Pairing: Eugene Roe x Fem!OC

Word count : 3.4k

Summary: War is a tragic thing. It doesn't care who you are; war will come for you. Those who are caught in its fiery claws never come out the same. Little girls are turned into nurses. Boys become soldiers.

But Josephine Sutton didn't want to pick up a scalpel and bandages.

And after the war personally punches Josephine in the gut, she decides a nursing position was never all that appealing to her anyway.

She'd much prefer to put bullets into the heads of the assholes that started this whole thing.

Gory, gory. What a helluva way to die.

This fic is about the actors who portray the heroes in the series Band of Brothers. I have immense respect for the real-life men of Easy Company.

a/n : bit of a filler, but i am really trying to build up the relationship between Josephine and the boys.

Warnings are all on the master list for this story here!

Josephine knew training would be difficult; she was prepared.

Jo was not.

It was laughable, truly. Jo looked like a scrawny boy compared to the other men who showed up to Camp Toccoa.

It's not like she was a particularly petite girl. Josephine had broad shoulders that filled out as she got older and started helping with heavy lifting around the farm. Her arms and legs had muscles spanning over the length of them, a courtesy of all the more work she was left to do after her brothers shipped off and her father grew old and brittle.

And yet, at Toccoa? She was still considered weak.

The boys were stronger than she was without even trying. They were faster, with just a casual length of their stride; they left her behind.

Sobel never let Jo forget it.

"Let's go, Toothpick!" The Captain's face flushed red with his screaming. "You waitin' for the wind to blow and carry you to the top?"

"No, sir!" Jo's legs burned with effort, pushing to make it to the top of that stupid mountain.

"Then why are you back here by yourself? Are you trying to cheat your way out of the run, soldier?"

Jo's eyes darted forward; the rest of Easy Company was ahead of her by at least fifty yards. Sobel had to have backtracked just to come yell insults in her face.

It was a hot and humid July day, something a lot of the boys weren't familiar with just yet. The ever-dense air of Georgia had tried on multiple occasions to strangle many of the men who had not grown up in an environment such as this one. Three weeks in Toccoa, and most of them still had yet to adapt.

Farther up the trail, she could spot Liebgott, a man she met on the first day, seeing as their bunks were right next to each other, letting his head swing forward as he ran. Drool was hanging out of his mouth, nothing left in his stomach to puke up.

Others in the company copied him, the humidity seemingly sucking the energy right out of them.

That might be the one advantage that God had graced her with; Josephine grew up in heat like this. It would take a lot worse to get her drooling like a dog.

"No, sir!" Jo called back to the angry man who still trotted alongside her.

"Then move faster, Sutton! I will not have a weak link in my company!"

"Yes, sir!"

Sobel huffed like her answer barely satisfied him before picking up his pace to harass one of the runners farther up the group, surely.

It was only Tuesday, and this was the fifth time that Easy Company had been pushed to run up Currahee. It slowly shifted from a cruel punishment that their Captain took pride in to just a part of the trainees' daily routine.

Wake up.

Currahee.

Breakfast.

Currahee.

Inspections.

Currahee.

The first time the company was sent up that wretched mountain, not a one of them came back down without a trail of puke running down their shirts. At least now that number goes down with each agonizing trip.

Easy Company was almost to the top of the mountain now, the incline becoming even steeper, and Jo's thighs burned with a rebuttal. Every run-up, she stayed closer and closer to the group of boys. Although she was always the last to reach the top, she was getting better.

The run-down, back to camp, was a different story. Where the men consistently beat Josephine in speed and strength, Jo flourished with endurance.

They could run faster, but she could go longer.

By the time they had all turned around to run back to ground level, most of the boys were exhausted, fighting with every step to keep going. Their bulky frames have to lean far back so as not to topple over while running downhill.

Jo's strides were light compared to their thundering ones; her footsteps floated with balance and certainty. Typically, Josephine would pass most of the slower boys on the way down, the faster ones too far out for her to catch. Still landing in the back half of the group by the time she got to the bottom of the mountain, but it was better than being last.

Coming up on her right was a larger-than-life man that she had come to know as Bull Randleman. His shoulders were so broad that they touched both sides of the doorframe when he first walked into the barracks. Josephine had to crane her head upwards to look him in the eyes when he talked.

"Come on, Bull, almost done," Jo called out, short words of encouragement as she came to settle in a run beside the towering man.

"Yeah, sure, Sutton." Randleman choked out a strangled laugh. "Running ain't nothin' for you. You're like a, y'know, like a rabbit or somethin'." His breath rasped with each word, his footsteps shaking the ground beside Jo.

"I'm like a," The large man paused for a moment, to catch his breath or to think, Josephine wasn't sure. "Well, shit, I guess I'm like a bull."

Jo tried to laugh in return, although she's sure it sounded more like a sad cry for help.

"You ever been chased by a bull?" The disguised woman recalled hearing the man say he had also grown up on a farm.

Randleman only shook his head, "Nah, we ran more goats out on my family's land than cattle."

"Well, I have been, trust me, those fuckers ain't slow."

The duo wheezed as they tried not to fall over from the combined effort of laughing and running the small death sentence that they had reluctantly started to get used to.

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it." Bull rasped out as their laughter died off.

Jo's eyes scanned the others running in front of her, landing on Luz and Toye as the latter seemed to be almost dragging the former to keep him moving. She let her strides lengthen back out and turned to Bull to offer a goodbye.

"Don't be last."

"I ain't that slow," the large man cracked a grin as the woman left his side to run ahead of him.

Josephine had met George Luz and Joe Toye at the very beginning of boot camp. It was hard not to notice the duo when they fought for three days over who got the top bed on the bunk they shared.

Eventually, the woman became well acquainted with them when the two boys recruited her to help in taking the bunk bed apart so they 'wouldn't have anything to fight over anymore'. Needless to say, the beds were separated for a measly few hours before Sobel found out and demanded that everyone involved be punished.

Shockingly to Josephine, neither boy mentioned her aid in the dismantling, and when their weekend passes were revoked and punishments were dished out, Jo walked away scot-free.

"Luz! You doin' ok?"

George Luz looked seconds away from stopping and hurling in a nearby bush; his legs shook like jello, the white workout top he wore was completely soaked through with sweat.

He opened his mouth before quickly slamming it back shut, instead lifting a sad 'thumbs down' to answer.

Toye rolled his eyes at the gesture as he shifted his hand under Luz's arm to keep the shaking man from falling over.

"He ate all of his breakfast this morning, and all of Hoobler's." The taller man explained, "Lord knows what possessed him to do something like that."

George's head snapped to the side, "They gave us pancakes, Joe! I'm not wasting perfectly good pancakes!" The passion for the sweet breakfast food seemed to be enough to have the sick man forget about his earlier nausea in return for arguing his side.

"Well, we wouldn't be in this situation if you could control yourself around anything remotely sweet, Luz!"

The two fell into a routine pattern of back-and-forth bickering, both still clinging to each other to keep the shorter man on his feet.

"Y'all need any help?" Josephine offered, as soon as there was breathing room to shove a few words in between the two men. Both of them just dismissively shook their heads as they focused back on insulting the other.

Nodding, more so to herself than anyone else, Jo focused her sights back ahead. The bottom of the mountain was finally coming into view, a beacon of hope for the screaming muscles in the woman's legs.

Glancing around at the men running by her, Josephine realized she would finish with the middle half of the company. As sloped land gradually turned flat, Jo slinked her way into the center of the company, avoiding the ever-harsh glare of the Captain, who was already waiting at the bottom of the trail.

"Move, Easy Company! Move!" his voice rang out over the loud gasps of men fighting for air as they slowed to the end of the run. "All the way to the chow hall! Do not stop running, Easy!"

A collective groan surfaced through the company as speed was picked back up, and across the camp they headed.

...

"I have never in my life met someone with such a big stick that far up their ass."

Bill Guarnere huffed as he slammed his lunch tray down on the clean wooden table and dramatically slid into his seat.

The cafeteria was buzzing with noise all around, bodies pushed close to one another in hopes of everyone finding a spot to eat their poor excuse of a meal. One stuffy building trying its hardest not to explode at the seams as three different companies filed in for dinner.

"Careful, Bill, he might hear you." Liebgott rolled his eyes, finding a spot at the table next to Josephine, who had been one of the first to sit down.

"Like I care," Bill quipped back, "What's he gonna do? My weekend pass is already gone, and I know Currahee so well at this point I might as well marry that damn mountain."

"Resorting to marrying mountains already, Guarnere? I didn't realize the girls hated you that much." Skip Muck had barely sat down next to Bill before he was forced to dodge a fork the angry man sent swinging his way.

Guarnere's lips snarled back, ready to defend his skills with 'swooning the women' when a cheerful-looking Luz slid into the seat next to him on his right. George's plate was stacked to the brim with the stew and stale bread that was being served today, his struggle with running earlier already forgotten in the face of food.

"Never mind that, why'd your weekend pass get revoked?" Luz questioned with halfway muffled words as he tried to talk and shove a piece of bread into his mouth simultaneously. "I thought you passed inspections?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Luz. Did your mother teach you nothing?" Bill made a show of scooting further from the man, bumping into Muck, who was laughing at the coughing sounds now coming from George as his cheeks expanded to fit the amount of bread he was packing into them. "It wasn't inspections anyway, according to our dear Captain Sobel, I was late to breakfast yesterday."

"Well, were you?" Joe Toye made himself known as he set his tray down on the table, claiming the seat next to Sutton.

"I was right behind you guys!" Guarnere slumped his shoulders as he started to pick at the oddly grayish food that adorned his lunch tray.

"So, you were late." Josephine quipped out, tearing the old roll of bread on her plate in half as she searched for a softer piece to bite into. Bill's eyes shot up, and a single finger came to point threateningly at Jo's face, or as threateningly as the shorter man could manage.

"Watch it, Sutton, you don't have a weekend pass either."

It was true, Jo didn't have a weekend pass. In fact, she hadn't had a weekend pass her entire time at Toccoa. Every week, for one reason or another, Captain Sobel would revoke it. This week, Sobel had decided her running form was 'not good enough for Easy Company.' And she would have her weekend pass revoked until she learned to run like a proper Easy Company soldier.

Josephine had already come to terms with the fact that she would never get her weekend pass back.

"Sure don't," Jo shrugged at the accusation, "And I probably won't have one next week, too."

"Wait, wait, who here does have their weekend pass?" Luz spoke up, finally having choked down all the bread he collected.

No hands were raised at his question.

"Y'know, I got this theory," Muck started from the other end of the table. "Sobel doesn't get laid, and he's so miserable that he can't stand the thought of any of us gettin' laid, and so he takes away our passes so we can't even meet any broads."

"That's not called a theory, Muck, that's called a fact." Toye deadpans at the man seated in front of him. Skip's arms fell dramatically to his sides from where they were held up in a flaunting manner.

"Was tryin' to give the man a little grace." Muck rolled his eyes in defeat.

The table drifted into buzzing conversations, flipping from one topic to the next every few seconds. Jo jumped in, offering her two cents occasionally, although she spent much more time observing.

These would be the men she would go to war with if she stayed hidden that long. Josephine wanted to know everything she could about them. One day, they might not be here to remind her of themselves, of their individuality. How they smiled or talked could be forgotten if she wasn't the one to commit it to memory.

Liebgott held and ate with his fork in his left hand, even though he was right-handed.

Skip was the only one at the table who would cross his legs, and every five minutes, he would switch which leg was on top.

Toye fiddled with the buttons on his pants too much; the thin string holding them on was already threatening to break.

Luz leaned close towards the person he was talking to, even if that meant leaning halfway across the table.

"Hey Joe!" George called out, torso pressed over the edge of the table.

Three heads simultaneously spun his way, waiting for him to finish.

"Whoa! That was kinda creepy." George stared back, "We can't have 3 Joe's in the same company! Everyone is gonna get confused."

Lieb rolled his eyes. "I think we'll manage."

"No, seriously," Luz pushed on, "What if we are under fire and someone calls Joe, and then all three of your heads pop up like little goffers. You'll be easy pickin's!"

"Well, maybe they should be more specific; we do all have last names you could call us by." Toye shrugs, "You know, like the military wants."

"Yeah, and the military tells me this one's name is Guarnere," George jabs his thumbs at Bill, who raises an eyebrow in suspicion. "But I've been callin' him Gonorrhea and the dumbass answers." Luz laughs, bringing his arms up to defend himself as Bill reaches over to deliver a hard slap to the back of his head.

"I ain't ever answered to that shit."

George turned quick; a smart rebuttal sat pretty on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at the shorter man next to him. Before a single word could slip out, a loud chime filled the air, soldiers instinctively stood to start filing out of the building.

"I got dibs on one of the first showers," Lieb called out, eyes raking across the group for anyone who opposed.

"Lord knows you need it," Josephine mumbled from behind him, shoulders raising in a shrug when the man turned to glare at her.

"I don't need no lip from you, Sutton."

...

The barracks wasn't a room Josephine would consider small. Plain white walls painted a dull background for the multitude of bunk beds that had been shoved as close together as they would fit, while still leaving thin walkways for the boys to shuffle around. A small wooden table sat in the center of the room, supposedly there for officers to sit when addressing the soldiers, but it had seen more use for gambling games late at night.

Not a small room by any means.

Although Josephine swore it shrunk every time another person walked through the door. Shrunk so small that the air turned hot with the mingled breaths, shoulders stopped brushing and started pushing past each other.

Night only fuelled the chaos, boys rushing past each other in a race to get to the showers first. The barracks themselves only had one bathroom, a cramped space that held three stalls with toilets.

To shower, you had to go three buildings down to a communal bathroom. Light blue tile covered the inside from ceiling to floor. A set of grey lockers sat at the front by the sinks and mirrors, filled with dry clothes for the boys to change into. Further down, shower heads lined along the walls, ten on each side.

No stalls, no curtains. Just a thin cover of steam and an unspoken rule to keep your eyes above waistline.

For obvious reasons, Josephine waited to shower.

Always the last to wash the day off. Not only stalling until everyone was done, but until most had already gone to sleep. Jo took no chances.

Waiting so long had its consequences, of course, as did everything else. While officers had so graciously decided to gift the company with seven hours of sleep, Jo survived on four.

Josephine had never slept well anyway, even before boot camp; she would stay up late with the owls and be up early for the farm animals in the morning.

Granted, she wasn't training for a war then, but everything always catches up eventually. Exhaustion had a special way of clawing out from behind her eyes, forcing itself to be acknowledged.

"Said I need to shower, but you're the one makin' the whole barracks smell." Lieb teased, throwing his used towel on the top bunk while he stood over Jo's form, seated on the floor. Water droplets landed on the back of Josephine's neck, antagonizing her wait.

"I think you've got it organized, Sutton. Shit, it would pass Sobel's inspections. Go take a shower." Liebgott's eyes followed the controlled chaos of his bunk mate's footlocker. Her hands meticulously finding the perfect spot for each item.

"Gotta finish this, then I'll go," Josephine promised.

"All the hot water'll be gone by then, don't say I didn't warn ya." Jo huffed, hoisting himself up onto the top bunk to drift to sleep.

Every night, Josephine would completely take apart her foot locker. Refolding all her clothes and organizing everything so it looked exactly as it did when she took it apart.

The boys called her a neat freak.

She called it stalling.

"Y'know, I think you've got something wrong up here," Jo's head popped out from his bunk to look down, pointed finger tapping into his temple. "Like a missin' screw or somethin'"

"Who knows, Lieb, maybe." Sutton half-heartedly answered, her hands busy pressing out the wrinkles in her third white shirt. Not fully white, a small grass stain stubbornly stared at her from the bottom hem. No matter how hard she had scrubbed, it refused to budge.

Third shirt in the lineup, third best shirt overall.

"I got a cousin like this, sat and redid my ma's whole bookshelf one time just for the hell of it. Had everything in alphabetical order." Jo continued on, his eyebrows furrowing at the careful way his bunk mate laid her shirts in the locker.

"Sounds cool, maybe I should meet him."

Liebgott rolled his eyes, huffing as he laid back down and stopped staring at the mess around his bunk. "Hell no, y'all shouldn't meet, I can only handle one weirdo at a time."

Josephine finally pulled her eyes from the task before her, leaning back to try and catch a glimpse of the man she had started to consider a friend. "Is this you tellin' me I'm the only weirdo you'll tolerate?"

Jo's head whipped to the side to see a smirk gracing Sutton's face.

"No, I just said I'll only deal with one."

"But if you had to choose?" Josephine's grin grew wider.

"Shut up and go take a shower. You stink." Liebgott mumbled after a few seconds of silence, shifting around under his blankets until his back was facing Josephine.

"I'll take it as a compliment." She laughed, her eyes cut to the door as two more of easy company walked through after finishing their showers.

Looks like she had a while before she could sneak out for her own.

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“Let us live, for we must die”