Chapter 28: The Paratrooper's Badge
By December 26, 1942, all the soldiers of the 506th Regiment had completed their final jump.
"I can't believe it. I'm going to be a paratrooper today," Joe Toye said, gently touching the newly pinned Silver Wings on his chest. "I think this is one of the most important moments of my life."
Many of the men were just as emotional as he was. Even Rhys, who had seen his share of big moments, felt a stir of emotion. To receive this badge alongside so many brothers was truly a joyous and exciting occasion.
"You are now all members of our regiment," Colonel Sink announced, standing on a high platform. "This is one of the finest regiments in the United States Army, and certainly one of the best in the world. You must remember our battle cry and motto: 'Currahee,' which means 'We stand alone, together'."
Sink's words made the blood of the men of the 506th boil. It was a sacred moment, a symbol that they were now qualified soldiers, and it would be a pivotal moment for almost every man there.
Then, Colonel Sink announced a piece of news that was even more exciting: "Tonight, the community club on base will be open to all soldiers. You will be able to raise your glasses and drink to your heart's content, in honor of your paratrooper's badge."
"Starting tomorrow, I am also giving you all a ten-day leave. You can go home and see your families, tell your relatives and friends, and of course, your wives or girlfriends, that you are now a United States Army Paratrooper," Sink said with a smile, before his tone shifted. "There are some things I expect from you—not just during your leave, but as a creed to guide your lives. You will walk with your heads held high and your chests out. You will carry yourselves as soldiers. You will always remember that you are an airborne soldier. Not infantry, not a Marine, but airborne. Look at your shining boots, and the handsome way you blouse your trousers. Let everyone who sees you know the style and pride of the airborne."
At this, the entire regiment erupted in cheers. This was undoubtedly fantastic news. A ten-day leave—they were overjoyed. When the command for "Dismissed" was given, the men couldn't help but embrace each other.
***
"I think I've finally made it through. This all feels like a dream," White said, chattering away as he packed his bags in the barracks. "I used to think Captain Sobel was going to torture me to death. But I made it through. Look, my boots, my Silver Wings."
"You earned it, White. You've always been excellent," Rhys said with a smile, watching him pack. He himself had made no move to pack his own luggage.
Just then, White straightened up and looked at Rhys with a serious expression. "I know that without you, I never would have been able to do any of this. Captain Sobel would have probably kicked me out of Easy Company a long time ago. Thank you, Parks."
Rhys shook his head and smiled. "Alright, White, don't say silly things. We're brothers, aren't we? Brothers in the same company, the men who can rely on each other on the battlefield."
"Yes," White said. He then walked forward and gave Rhys a tight hug. "Remember, we are always brothers. Don't abandon me, and of course, I will never abandon you."
Suddenly, the barracks door opened. Guarnere walked in, saw the two of them, and paused for a second before grinning. "Looks like I came at a bad time. Did I interrupt something?" he asked, his smile full of insinuation.
"Oh, Mr. Gonorrhea, don't imagine things with that filthy rotten brain of yours," Rhys said, slapping his forehead. "Right, why aren't you packing your bags?"
"Heh, Parks, I was just about to head to the club. The beer is flowing freely there today," Guarnere said with a whistle. "Come on, let's all go celebrate. Tonight is destined to be a sleepless night."
"Why not?" Rhys smiled and nudged White. "Let's go, White. You can pack this stuff later. Tonight, we should celebrate properly with our brothers."
***
The community club was deafeningly loud that night.
"One, two, three, four… ten!" A group of men, including Denver Randleman and Joe Liebgott, were gathered around Guarnere, counting out loud in unison.
'SLAM!' On the count of "ten," Guarnere had drained his glass of beer. With his Silver Wings held between his teeth, he finished, and the crowd roared.
"Hi-yo, Silver!" Guarnere shouted triumphantly, taking the badge from his mouth.
"Cheers!" Randleman also raised his glass, and a dozen mugs crashed together, splashing golden foam. The brothers of Easy Company weren't thinking about anything else right now; they just wanted to release all their pent-up emotions. From the day they entered the camp until now, they had endured all of Sobel's trials and torments, and they had descended from the sky like beautiful flowers. Thinking back on it now, it was all worth it.
John Martin was feeling that same sentiment as he carefully bloused his trousers into his tall paratrooper jump boots. He had one foot propped on a chair, his movements meticulous.
Just then, another jump boot appeared on the chair. When Martin looked up, he saw the flushed face of Frank Perconte, who looked at him and said smugly, "You know, if you had any class or style like me, people might think you were a big shot."
Martin shook his head and glanced at Perconte. "You mean, like your fucking sergeant?"
"Just kidding," Perconte shrugged. "I can finally blouse my trousers without having to listen to Captain Sobel's roaring. Isn't that something to be happy about?"
Martin smiled and winked at him, then extended his hand. The two men shook.
"Congratulations, Martin," Perconte said with genuine sincerity. "Congratulations on making Sergeant."
As they were talking, a loud voice suddenly shouted, "Ten-hut!"
Every soldier of the 506th immediately put down their beer, and many leaped up from their seats, snapping to rigid attention. Colonel Sink, Lieutenant Colonel Strayer, and other officers walked in and went directly to the main stage in the club.
"Paratroopers, at ease," Sink said with a smile. "Good evening, men of Easy Company."
"Good evening, sir!" all the paratroopers shouted in unison.
"The parachute infantry is a brand-new concept in the history of American military, but by God, the 506th Regiment is more than capable of turning this new concept into victory," Sink said with a smile, nodding at the men.
"Yes, sir!" all the brothers of Easy shouted.
"I want you to know how proud I am of all of you. You have earned this celebration," Sink continued.
Just then, Sergeant Grant brought a glass of beer over and handed it to the Colonel.
"Now, I want you all to enjoy yourselves and remember our motto," Colonel Sink said, raising his glass.
"CURRAHEE!" everyone roared from the bottom of their hearts, raising their glasses and bottles high.
It was a celebration that allowed the brothers of Easy Company to let loose completely. Almost everyone was drunk by the end of it. They staggered back to the barracks in groups of three and five, leaning on each other. The noisy celebration continued inside, with some men carrying on the party, splashing beer everywhere.
***
The next morning, Rhys woke up early. He put on his training uniform and was about to head out for a workout. It was his habit, even on leave. He knew that only by doing this could he keep his body in peak condition at all times.
'THUMP.' White suddenly shot up in his bed, his hair a mess and his body reeking of stale liquor. He fumbled around for his clothes, muttering, "Damn it, I'm screwed today. I'm definitely late."
"Shut up, White!" Tipper's voice came from his bunk, long and lazy. "Have you lost your mind? Starting today, and for the next ten days, there are no damn bugle calls, no damn training, and no Captain Sobel. We're on leave!"
"Ah—" White, who was in the middle of pulling on his pants, froze. He then remembered. A ten-day leave. A wave of relief washed over him, and he burst out laughing, then fell backward onto his bed.
"Parks, where are you going?" White then noticed Rhys, already in his training gear. "Oh, God, don't tell me you're addicted. No wonder you're a monster."
Rhys just smiled. "Are you planning on going home? It's getting late. I just hope you make it back here on time. Don't spend too much time in the gentle embrace of home. Don't forget, Captain Sobel won't let things go easily. And Colonel Sink won't let anyone who returns late off the hook. Don't get kicked out right after becoming a paratrooper."
"Alright, alright. I really should get going," White said, climbing out of bed again and starting to pack.
By the time Rhys got back from his workout, White was already packed. His hair was neatly combed and shining, he wore a clean uniform with his gleaming Silver Wings pinned to it, his boots were polished, and his trousers were bloused. He looked sharp and heroic. By now, the other men were also awake and packing.
"Oh, look at this handsome young man," Rhys said with a laugh.
White smiled confidently, then looked at Rhys with a strange expression. "Parks, aren't you going home? Or do you have something else to do?"
Rhys nodded. "I'm not going home for now." He wanted to stay here and use the next few days to complete the rifle design he had promised.
*****
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