When she finally reached the road heading up, Alice slowed a bit. The inevitable scolding she'd receive from the other officers lay in wait for her. She sighed. She knew it was at least a bit warranted she supposed. The war had ended; she needed to accept that and forgive the Germans, the people she had defended so long as being victims like the rest of Europe.

She found Ron and Talbert chatting at the base of the resort, both leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Not too far, Gene and Spina sat at a table with Lipton. A few other men of both Easy and Dog wandered around. When Ron caught sight of her, he shook his head and pushed off the wall. He met Alice a ways away from the enlisted.

"You pulled a hell of a stunt, Alice," he snapped, lighting a cigarette. "Are you insane? Ordering Liebgott to take out that Nazi?"

"He's a fucking Nazi," she argued back. "I'm an officer like all the rest of you! I have a right to give them orders."

Ron scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head. "Jesus christ, this isn't about your fucking rank, Alice. This is about you giving orders to execute a man who hadn't been officially ID'd as the enemy."

"Listen, I'm sorry about that," she muttered. "I am, genuinely-"

Shouts and the roar of a jeep engine filled the area as a pair of young enlisted men swerved into the parking zone. Ron and Alice jumped back. They shouted desperately for a medic. As they leapt from the jeep, she, Ron, Gene, and Spina converged on the jeep.

"What happened?" Ron demanded. He grabbed one of the enlisted men and shook him. "Private White!"

"Sir, it's Sergeant Grant," he said. The young man tried to catch his breath. As Ron and Alice moved from him to the back of the truck, he attempted to explain, rambling about an American soldier shooting him and several other men.

Alice reached the back at the same time as Gene and Spina. Grant had been laid across the back seats, unconscious but breathing. They couldn't see anything. Gene cursed. Flipping out her lighter, she handed it to the medic.

The small flame did a poor but manageable jump of illuminating Grant's still body. A hasty bandage had been wrapped around his skull. Gene ordered Spina to go find medical supplies while he inspected the wound. Ron tore himself from the medic and Alice to interrogate the frightened replacements of Easy who had been with him. She could see Ron trembling in anger.

"We gotta get him to the aid station, now!" Gene snapped. He handed the lighter back to Alice. "He's still breathing, but I don't got a clue how long he'll stay that way. Captain!"

Ron turned from them at his call. He hurried over to them. As Gene explained the situation, he nodded, staying quiet. When Gene finished, Ron turned to Alice. "Take those two, get them back to Easy's HQ, calm them down. I want you to get Easy prepped. I'll send Talbert with further instructions."

"Right."

With a last look at Grant's fair, still face in the dark, she turned away. Spina rushed over, handing what he could to Gene as Ron and Talbert barreled into the front and the medic took the back with Grant. They sped off with a roar.

Once the jeep had faded in the darkness, Alice turned her attention to the privates. Privates Derek White and Jack Crosby, if she remembered correctly. They'd only arrived upon the capture of Berchtesgaden. Both stood, shocked. She walked over to them.

"You boys did a good job," she said. Alice tried to smile at them. "Really. I'm sure if someone hadn't reacted as quickly, he wouldn't have half the chance he's got now."

White glanced up at her. He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Come on. Easy needs a report," she told them.

It didn't take long for them to follow her as she moved with purpose down the road towards the rest of the large hotels. Along the way she flagged down one of the MPs. She brought him up to speed with what she knew. Soon enough he'd rushed off to alert his superiors and try to clean up the carnage on the road.

A dozen of Easy's men, mostly replacements, lounged outside on the large patio outside the headquarters. She snapped at them to meet her inside. At her tone, they didn't protest. Alice found most of the Toccoa men messing around in the dining room with cards and a dart board someone had found.

Alice raised her voice to be heard over the din. "Everybody listen up!" When they quieted down, most looking at her in surprise, she tried to explain. "Sergeant Grant's been shot."

The men burst into expletives and abandoned their leisure activities. But Alice shouted for them to shut up. They did so.

"Captain Speirs and Talbert are with Doc Roe, taking him to the aid station. Until then, everybody stays here." She looked pointedly at the Toccoa men. Liebgott, Johnny, Bull, and even George looked about ready to rush the door. "Speirs put me in charge so you're going to listen to me until he or First Sergeant Talbert gets back."

The last bit she aimed at the replacements. Those who had come to Easy after Janovec's group had never dealt with her much. Without Bill, Alice had no idea if the Toccoa guys had been as proactive at shutting down their objections to her existence. When no one objected out loud, she nodded.

"That being said," she added, "get your gear."

At the dismissal, most of the men rushed off to speak to anyone not present, and to get their guns and ammo. Most of the Toccoa men stayed put, though. She'd expected it. Before she could explain more, though, Alice turned to Spina who had come with them. "Take these two and get them some coffee or something, Spina."

"Consider it done."

As Spina led White and Crosby off to relax a bit, Alice watched. She knew he'd take care of them. It didn't take long for about a dozen of her friends to swarm her. She immediately recognized George, Johnny, Malarkey, Liebgott, Bull, Ramirez, Alley, Skinny, Babe, Perconte, Popeye, and More, but after that, she stopped caring who exactly was there or had joined them.

"I don't know much," she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. Alice sighed. "White and Crosby brought him in. Said he'd been shot by a drunk American soldier. I think I heard them say he was from the 506th," she added. As they grumbled and cursed, she just nodded.

"How bad was he shot?" George asked.

Alice paused. At her silence, several men removed their cigarettes or shifted from foot to foot. "He was shot in the head."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Liebgott snapped.

All around her, similar sentiments were echoed by the others. She let them curse their hearts out for a minute before quieting them down. "He was breathing when they left. Gene is hoping the surgeon at the aid station can help." She shook her head. "Speirs said he'd send Tab with orders once they have a handle on the situation. Until then, everybody sits tight. I mean it," she added.

And that's what they did. After gathering rifles and ammo, the men moved into the basement of the hotel. The area was larger than the lounge, more side rooms to sit and brood. For twenty minutes they sat or stood, most in silence, all of them thinking about Grant and the mystery shooter.

Alice stayed with them, just as quiet. Her mind raced. How an American could fire on his own countryman, she couldn't quite understand. She supposed alcohol could do a lot to a person. But a line blurred in her thoughts between hating the Germans for being bad, and realizing that even the Americans continued to do their fair share of evil.

When Talbert burst in through the side door, the men shot up. He looked at Alice, and when she nodded back, he started giving orders. "He wants a Non-Com guarding each roadblock with at least two men guarding every road out of town."

Talbert pushed through the hallway of men towards the center room. More and more men poured out of side rooms and crowded around him. "Bull! Malark! You each take a squad and one of the witnesses on a house-to-house search."

"Can we shoot the bastard on sight?" Malarkey asked.

Talbert shook his head. They reached the main entrance way up a few stairs. He flipped on the lights. "Try and take him alive." As someone asked where Grant and Speirs were, Talbert turned around. "They took him to a Kraut hospital, to see if they could drum up any good doctors."

As the men filed out, squads following squad leaders, Talbert stood to the side. He looked worn, face drawn and arms across his chest. Alice joined him as the last few men of Easy fled the room.

"What'd the doctor say?" she asked.

He sighed. "Said he had no chance, not without a brain surgeon. So Speirs figured he'd go find one."

With a deep breath, she nodded. Her whole body itched to join the men on the search party. But instead she stayed with Talbert. While they waited, they played a game of cards. She could see him doing his best to stay calm but the way his hands would shake when he dealt told her enough to know he was far from it.

It took forty minutes before they heard anything. Instead of just news, though, a half dozen men including More, Johnny, and Skinny, jostled a bloody private into the main room. He had a smirk on his face despite the bruising. It didn't take more than a moment before George, Liebgott, and Perconte had come back as well.

"Put him in there," Talbert said. He pointed to a door off the side. They complied with glee.

After only a few minutes, they heard the first punch thrown. As more and more Toccoa men returned, leaving the replacements to go sulk in a basement somewhere, the beatings only got worse. Talbert stood by the front door. She saw him trying to block it out.

When George joined them a moment later, she just gestured to Talbert. He didn't say anything in return. Instead, he walked right over to him.

Alice decided to leave them to chat. The noise of the man getting torn to pieces, a replacement from I Company, someone had said, didn't bother her. Not really, at least. He deserved it, and the men who considered Grant basically family needed to get their anger out some way. She moved past George and Talbert out into the dark street.

She took a walk around the area. Eventually finding a few MPs, she got a report on what had happened at the scene of the crime. The man had shot two German POWs and, more condemning for him, a Major in the British Army and the man's driver. And then he'd shot Grant. The MPs said he'd been found in two.

Alice stopped listening to the police explain how they'd found Grant's shooter. At the word "rape," she stopped breathing. A combination of anger and fear gripped her heart. Memories of cold hands between her thighs crashed into her. She saw red.

Her boots pounded against concrete and tarmac as she hurried towards Easy's HQ. Every part of her body wanted nothing more than to see the man who had dared touch the Austrian girl. She wanted to see the monster. She'd never gotten to see the face of the men from H Company who had tried, and failed, to rape her. She'd never gotten to give them her own response. She wouldn't miss that opportunity again.

Easy's headquarters finally rose up in front of her. The lights of the main hall flooded out through the windows along the side. She bounded up the half dozen steps two at a time. With a hefty push, Alice threw the doors open.

In the middle of the entryway, Liebgott and Johnny held him up. Private Floyd Carver, I Company. Blood dripped from his face, plastered in his hair and across his swollen jaw. Deep bruising had already started to form on his skin. But instead of moving her to pity, all it did was remind her of the bruises on her own wrists and abdomen and neck. She froze again.

"Grant's gonna live," George said.

She noticed him for the first time. He and Talbert stood together to the right, watching her closely. Behind Lieb and Johnny, Bull stood with Malarkey, Perco, Babe, and More. She didn't spare them more than a glance.

Alice took a few steps closer to the man who all but dangled between her friends. She looked at him, disgusted. This had gone further than Grant. "Did you do it?"

"Do what," he sputtered.

She felt her heart beat rapidly increasing. Alice struggled to breathe. Her hands shook. "Did you rape her?" She spoke each word firm and slow.

"So what if I did," he choked out. With a smirk he shook his head. "Fuckin' broad was askin' for it wearin' that skirt she had."

"Do you know what we do to Germans who betray the Fatherland?"

Words left her. She could feel the men around her watching her every mood. She shook a bit. Cold hands trailed up her skin and clamped over her mouth. Anger, disgust, fear filled her body. Alice took a deep breath. That was then. This was now.

She drew her pistol. The air left the room. The man stopped laughing.

Just as she raised the gun, George moved in front of her. He stood between her and the replacement, hands up to keep her back. Alice glared at him.

"Get out of my way, George," she ordered.

"No."

He didn't budge. The cigarette he'd been smoking fell to the ground as he shook his head. Alice glared at him. How dare he stand between her and what was justice. She felt her hand shaking. The gun rattled.

"It's no more than he deserves," she snapped.

George glanced from her to Talbert behind her. Then he glanced back. "Fucking right. He deserves to be put in the ground. But not by you." He paused. "Let the MPs do it."

"George, move!"

"No."

She looked at the gun in her hands. It trembled. George stood between her and justice. He stood between her and vengeance. The word caused her heart to drop. She'd spent all day regretting acting out of vengeance against the suspected, but not convicted, Nazi. Here she was, doing it again, history repeating itself. It had to end.

She put the gun down. The men started breathing again. Alice tried to do the same. Her heart raced. "Get him out of my sight," she said. As they pushed him past, she added, "Before he asks to get shot."

Soon she stood in the quiet entrance way with only George, Malarkey, and Talbert. None of them spoke. Alice fought herself, between fear and memories of cold hands, blood, and gunshots, and the pain of letting the man get away with his life. She couldn't speak.

George took her gun. "Come on. It's late."

"She's going to have to live with this, for the rest of her life," Alice said, voice low. "Forever. While he gets to move on."

None of them had an answer. But she straightened up and took the gun back from George, slipping it in its holster. After looking at all three of them, she headed out the door. George followed her. The other two stayed back in silence.

When they reached HQ, Alice went straight up the stairs. She didn't say anything to George, but she did give him a nod that she hoped conveyed everything she couldn't put into words. He watched her go.

Alice only turned one lamp on. Her watch read just past 2300 hours. Exhaustion consumed her. But despite her incredible desire to rest, she couldn't. Too many memories, too much to think about. She stripped down to her undershirt and shorts. Alice all but collapsed onto her bed against the dark wooden headboard.

At about 0015, a small knock pulled her out of her memories. All her conversations with Robert about controlling himself, about not letting his anger consume him, had been running through her mind. For a moment she considered ignoring it. But she didn't.

Alice unlocked the door to find Nixon waiting. She tried to force a smile, but she couldn't. He offered her his flask. With a sigh, she let him in.

"Helluva day," he murmured. Then he tried to joke, "Did not expect to find George Luz at my door tonight, I'll tell you that."

Trying not to cry, she choked on her tears. "God, I'm so tired of this." She couldn't stop herself from crying though when he hugged her. Unable to control her emotions, she sobbed. All the anger, the fear, the memories spilled from her. For almost twenty minutes she just wept.

"I'll stay here tonight," he mumbled into her hair. "The Brass can deal with it. It's like sharing a foxhole, but more comfy."

Alice, slightly more in control, just nodded. Like a foxhole, but more comfy. She tried to dry her face when she pulled away. No words came though. Climbing into the bed, she just pulled on the covers and tried to stop shaking. Nixon flipped the light off a few minutes later. With his warm body reminding her of the present, she drifted off.