Chapter 39: Bad Mood
The 'Samaria' was a converted passenger-cargo ship. It was originally designed to carry one thousand passengers, but on this voyage, it carried the five thousand men. Due to the extreme overcrowding, the conditions became terrible.
The brothers had long since lost the excitement they felt when they first boarded the troopship and left the American mainland. Now, almost every man was full of complaints. After nearly half a month at sea, many of them had developed foul moods, leading to frequent conflicts. Drinking and fighting became common occurrences, and there were even frequent brawls between the different companies.
"Parks, I'd bet that fat guy hasn't washed that uniform in a week," Christenson said, quietly pointing to the cook in the greasy smock in the galley as he and Rhys were eating in the mess hall.
"This isn't Breckinridge. There are no comfortable beds, no movie theaters, no dessert after meals, no hot showers, and certainly no girls nearby. This is the ocean, Christenson. We're at sea right now. This is already pretty good. I'm satisfied." Rhys said with a laugh.
"I just think it's a bit disgusting," Christenson muttered. He then leaned in with a smile. "Yeah, and even if Carson wins a hundred and fifty dollars playing blackjack, there's nowhere to spend it."
"What about you? Do you like blackjack or craps? Or poker?" Rhys asked with a smile.
"Blackjack," Christenson said. "And I've heard the officers often play it together too. I know that Nixon, Buck, and Welsh play."
"You saw them with your own eyes?" Rhys's brow furrowed slightly.
"No, I just heard about it," Christenson said. "They even invited Speirs from D Company to play."
Rhys nodded. "If it's just hearsay, then don't worry about it. Who doesn't play a few hands? Floating out here on the ocean, even God would feel lonely."
In truth, Rhys was overthinking it. It was commonplace for US Army officers to play cards, just like the enlisted men. But the soldiers' perception of it could sometimes be different.
"I'm not really worried about that. I'm just worried about Sobel's energy level. He has too much of it. I don't know what kind of idea he'll come up with next, but I imagine it'll end up being a joke," Christenson said, referring to yesterday's incident. Sobel had wanted to lead the men in PT. He had finally found a spot on the deck, but he was shut down by a warning from Lieutenant Colonel Strayer.
"Captain Sobel, I know the men need to train, but the men from the other companies also need space to move around. That's enough," Strayer had said, his tone very blunt. It left Sobel on edge all day. The next morning, he went to the regimental headquarters compartment to explain the situation to Strayer.
The brothers of Easy Company derived immense pleasure from this incident. What could be more exciting than seeing Sobel get put in his place? Cobb even started dancing in the barracks.
***
On September 15th, after 26 days at sea, the Samaria slowly sailed into the port of Liverpool, England. On the day of their arrival, all the soldiers on board let out a cheer. The next day, a southbound train took them to Ogbourne St. George. At the train station, trucks took them to their new billet.
The sky gradually darkened. Due to the wartime blackout, the trucks could go no further, so they had to proceed on foot. Someone at the front used a weak flashlight to illuminate the road, and the rest of the men followed behind, feeling their way forward in the dark.
"I can't believe we've come to England just to live the same life we had at Camp Toccoa," Webster grumbled, but many of the brothers felt the same way. It was almost nostalgic. Weren't the night marches at Toccoa just like this? A slight smile touched many of their lips.
They didn't have to walk far, only about a mile and a half, before they entered the camp. Before them were a series of Nissen huts, and inside each were two pot-bellied stoves.
"Finally, I can get a good night's sleep," White said, sinking comfortably onto his mattress. Even though it was stuffed with straw, it was more than a little better than the feeling of being on the ship.
Rhys just smiled without a word and lay down as well, silently staring at the ceiling of the hut. The war was getting closer and closer now. He actually felt a sense of anticipation. He had been to a battlefield before, although only in small-scale conflicts, but the thrill of combat was an absolute temptation, as well as a form of torture.
He then thought of some of the brothers in Easy Company. Rhys felt that he had a duty to take care of them. Tragedy was not an immutable constant. If it were, then his transmigration would be completely useless. War was cruel, and it would not change because of his will.
Lost in these thoughts, Rhys didn't drift off to sleep until late into the night. Beside him, White was already letting out soft snores.
There was no morning training the next day, but Rhys still woke up early. He was startled awake by White's cry of astonishment.
"Parks! My God, it's so beautiful!" White's voice seemed to hang in the air, followed by a series of other gasps of wonder.
Rhys got dressed, walked outside, and was also mesmerized by the scenery before him.
Not far away were cottages straight out of a fairy tale, with thatched roofs and walls covered in climbing roses. Tall horses with long manes trotted along narrow, winding cobblestone paths.
"Is this a fairy-tale world?" It was Webster who voiced the thought. He had the sensitive heart of a literary man. After all, a Harvard student like him was a rare bird in Easy Company.
Because there was no training and they were allowed to go out, the brothers of Easy Company spent the day happily exploring the village.
"So this is Aldbourne," White said with a sigh. Ahead of them, set against a backdrop of soft green countryside, was an ancient 11th-century Romanesque church. When the hour struck, the bell in the church tower chimed just like Big Ben.
"This is just a small village in Aldbourne," Rhys said with a laugh. That day, they also found five ancient little pubs in the village, and some of the men even went in for a drink.
But not all the British people welcomed the arrival of the American GIs. Some of them looked tense when they saw the uniformed soldiers. It was clear they were not used to having their lives disturbed by others.
So, starting the next day, orders came down from the regiment to brief the soldiers on British customs, etiquette, and habits. This made many of the brothers uncomfortable again.
"We're here to rescue them, why don't they welcome us? Why do we have to cater to them?" Guarnere complained directly to Rhys. "I don't like drinking quietly in a pub. The atmosphere is terrible, too stuffy. And the damn cooks seem to have gone British too. They're making us eat damn powdered milk, powdered eggs, dried apricots, shriveled potatoes, Brussels sprouts, rutabagas, cabbage… God, I'm even starting to miss the spaghetti Lieutenant Winters made for us. For me, this is a tragedy."
"Guarnere, you should feel lucky. Isn't it better to change your lifestyle a bit, to learn to be as cultured and noble as those English gentlemen?" Lieutenant Buck Compton said, having overheard him.
"Alright, brothers, these are still wonderful times. Let's all enjoy them. You know, after these few days, we won't be able to sit here and listen to how the British peel their potatoes," Rhys said, trying to lighten the mood. "Our training will start again in a few days. Except Sunday, we'll be doing eight to ten hours of field training every day. I imagine it won't be any easier than Toccoa. If it were me, I would be enjoying these few days as much as possible."
***
And things turned out just as Rhys had said. But in addition to the field training, they also conducted 15, 18, 21, and 25-mile marches, night combat training, an hour of close-combat drills every day, as well as training in urban warfare, map reading, first aid, chemical warfare, and the performance and use of German-made weapons. They conducted one exercise with full field gear, marching 25 miles in 24 hours. There was also special training in things like booby traps, mine clearing, and communications.
In addition, the regiment sent specialists to teach them the basic knowledge every infantryman needed to know: how to read terrain, how to use it to their advantage, how to adapt their tactics to different terrain, and especially how to survive in the field for several days at a time without impairing their physical fitness.
"All of this is extremely important. I expect every one of you not to make a mistake," the instructor warned the brothers of Easy Company loudly. "Because you only make a mistake like this once. Dead men don't make mistakes a second time."
During this period, Sobel began to become a bit mentally unstable, perhaps because the war was drawing ever closer. And many men would often tell the brothers of the 506th about their experiences in North Africa and Sicily, which only increased the psychological pressure.
Sobel's abnormal behavior made the brothers more and more dissatisfied with him. In Winters's words: "Sobel's temper has become more malevolent, more like a sadist. It's reached an unbearable point."
Of course, he only said this during private discussions with other officers like Nixon and Harry.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, having clearly lost all confidence in Sobel as well.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll keep working on the men, get them to gladly accept a company commander like him to lead them into battle in Europe," Winters could only say, his voice thick with sarcasm.
Harry Welsh was a little disappointed to hear this, but they were officers, and this was all they could do. The men, however, did not think the same way.
*****
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