“Where did you even come from?” Skip demanded as he watched Roe bandage the scratch along his leg. He’d tripped on Currahee, but he didn’t realize the medic had noticed. Practically appearing from thin air, Roe had stopped him and started fixing him up the second he mentioned to Malarkey that he should get it looked at, right there at the bottom of the mountain.
“Just heard you tripped,” Gene said as an explanation as he tied off the bandage. “You’re all good. Let me know if it starts to get hot and itchy.” And with that, he walked away, dodging an oncoming Dog Company Lieutenant and disappearing around a corner.
“Jesus Christ, where does he come from?” Penkala asked, watching Lieutenant Speirs walk away from them. He’d caught them talking about whether or not he’d shot that group of prisoners on D-Day and the whole group was a little shaken.
“Doncha know, Penk?” Skip asked with a cheeky grin. “Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.” They laughed, albeit a little nervously.
“Ya know,” Malarkey started, “Doc Roe does the same thing. It’s like he just shows up when he’s needed.”
“Yeah, but that’s his job,” Penkala defended. Just at that moment, Roe walked past the group. He tipped his helmet a little as he passed.
“Boys,” he said in a brief greeting and then all waved a little. Without another word, he continued down the street and disappeared into the same building Speirs had.
“So where did you come from, Roe?” Speirs asked, breaking the silence as they sat together on a pew, shoulder to shoulder. There was room on either side of them to slide, but neither did.
“Louisiana, sir. Morgan City. And you, sir?” He didn’t know where the courage came from, but Speirs didn’t seem opposed to conversation.
“Boston.” The response was short, but not clipped. Neither felt the need to say anything more and we’re content to sit together in silence, pressed flush together from knee to shoulder.
Coming soon: “Your kid punched my kid and I want to be mad but oh no you’re stupid hot”