"What do you want from me, Harry?"

"Just guess!"

Across from her in the officers' mess tent, Harry Welsh sat nursing a canteen of water or alcohol, which she couldn't say. Only a half dozen officers occupied the space. The rest of the tables sat empty. But she and Harry had the morning off as First Platoon sat in on a VD and Sex Ed lecture.

Sveta now found herself opposite him at a weather-stained wooden table, a bowl of rapidly cooling oatmeal her mid-morning breakfast. "What am I guessing?"

"Oh come on, Svetlana. You know."

"No, I don't." She took another bite. "Unless you want me to guess how long you have until I punch you in the face."

He just grinned at her. In recent weeks, she'd made a concerted effort to get to know Harry at least, as the two of them would be working side by side in First Platoon after they jumped. If she wanted to survive to reach home again, she had to have allies.

She liked Harry Welsh. He was straightforward, kind, had a good mind for combat. He also wasn't above mischief if he saw his opportunity. And he liked to drink. She'd been trying to get him into vodka, but quality vodka was hard to come by in England.

"The replacement officer for Third Platoon. Have you met him yet?"

Sveta shook her head. "No, I haven't."

He'd only gotten in the day before. Lieutenant Lynn "Buck" Compton. Zhanna had met him, though. Said he was tall. But all the officers were tall. Well, except for Harry.

"Guess how long it took for Guarnere to make fun of him for being college-educated?"

Sveta put down her spoon and looked up at Harry. "Five seconds flat," she sneered. "Sergeant Guarnere can't keep his mouth shut."

Harry just shook his head, trying to suppress a smile. "Yeah, well, Compton took it well. By the end of the briefing, I swear Guarnere started to like him."

"No accounting for taste," she muttered. Guarnere's name left a bad taste in her mouth. Just like the oatmeal she'd been trying to force down her throat. "Guarnere needs to learn tact."

"Tact? From a man from Philly?" Harry shook his head. "Good luck with that."

Sveta looked at him. "You've been there?"

"I'm from another part of the state," he explained. "Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Best town in P.A."

She didn't respond. Finishing up her oatmeal, she just slid the bowl a few inches away and sighed. They still didn't have a drop day. Just lots of orders to wait and see what would happen. As she went to respond, a familiar voice interrupted her.

"You two look bored," Nixon said. He wandered over through the tent, his own tray only holding a cup of coffee and some toast. As he slid in next to Harry, he just yawned. Then he dumped his flask into the coffee. "What's today's topic of conversation?"

"Lieutenant Compton," Harry supplied. "Any gossip on him?"

Nixon smirked. "Aw, Harry. You think so highly of me." Taking a sip of his spiked coffee, Nixon just shrugged. "Not much to tell, other than he's top of his class and an athletics nut."

"So the opposite of you," Sveta deadpanned.

Harry burst out laughing. It took a moment for Nixon to get over the brief shock at her words, but then he just snorted as well and took another drink. "Wrong on only one count. I was top of my class."

She didn't respond. Instead Sveta turned to her own coffee and took a drink. Harry and Nixon got to talking. She didn't mind. It wasn't long, though, before they were interrupted yet again. And this time, she recognized only one of the two men.

Dick Winters walked side by side with a tall, shockingly blonde man. The lieutenant's bar on his shoulders gave him away as Lieutenant Compton. He had an easy smile, and was grinning at whatever Winters was telling him about. Sveta sat up straighter.

"First Lieutenant Svetlana Samsonova, this is Second Lieutenant Buck Compton," Winters said. They came to a stop at the table. "And Buck, you've already met Welsh and Nixon."

But Harry insisted on a first-name basis. "Just Harry."

After a grin at Harry, he turned her way. "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant," Compton said, nodding to her.

Sveta expected him to push for a handshake. When he didn't, she just nodded back. "Lieutenant."

"At the moment, she's in First Platoon with Harry," Winters explained. "You've already met her colleague Lieutenant Casmirovna."

"Yeah, I ran into Zhanna yesterday. How's the food?" he asked her.

Sveta watched him for a moment before answering. His grip had been strong. He was well built, tall, no doubt due to his love of athletics that Nixon had mentioned. Blue eyes looked from her to the others and coffee without care. And he smiled easily. But the most startling thing was that he'd called her Zhanna. He'd used her first name. It left her speechless.

It took her a moment to recover from the surprise. But then she just shrugged. "Passable. I've had worse. But I've certainly had better."

Compton laughed. "Well. Better than nothing, right?"

"Come on, we should get some before this place fills up," Winters suggested. "We can chat in a minute."

As they moved away, Sveta watched him. But Nixon's laugh broke her attention and she turned to him. "Something's amusing, Nixon?"

"You're watching him like he might turn around and stab you," he joked.

But Sveta didn't find it funny at all. He didn't understand. Nixon liked to play spy, play at hiding in the shadows. That's what it was to him. A way to amuse himself, to keep his mind sharp. Probably a way to keep out of the field. He didn't know what it was like for that game to become the only path to survival.

"Nixon," she started, "this may be hard for you to comprehend, but I'm better at this than you."

Nixon took his coffee cup from his lips. After swallowing his drink, he asked what she meant. "What?"

"For you, the intelligence stuff is a game." She glanced briefly at Harry next to him. He'd gone silent, much more serious. At least he took her warnings seriously. She continued on, "For me, this is a way of life."

"Oh come on," Nixon said. He just laughed and pointed to where Compton and Winters were getting food. "You can't seriously think Buck Compton's a Nazi spy, that All American baseball boy?"

She'd never said Nazi. But if that's what he wanted to believe she meant, she would play along. "Maybe not. But being extra careful can save you a lot of trouble in the end."

Before Nixon could say more, Winters and Compton returned. Winters took a spot next to her, and Compton by Harry. They started eating the oatmeal eagerly.

"Now's as good a time as any to tell you," Nixon started. "I got the name of your replacement C.O." All of them stopped what they were doing and turned to Nixon, making him grin. "Do you want to know?"

"No, Nixon, of course not," Sveta deadpanned.

They all broke into smiles at her joke. But as Harry just nudged Nixon, he continued on. "Right. Easy Company, prepare to welcome Lieutenant Thomas Meehan of Baker."

"Meehan," Winters said. He nodded. "He's a good leader."

Harry agreed immediately. "Yeah, it'll be interesting to see how the NCOs like him."

"Anyone is better than Sobel," Sveta reminded him. "Guarnere might take issue though."

Harry laughed at her. "What is it with you and him?"

Sveta sat up straighter. She shook her head. "I don't appreciate his lack of self-censorship."

Nixon just started laughing at her, and she forced herself not to glare. She didn't know the man across from her, this new Lieutenant Compton, and she had no interest in showing him more than she needed to.

"Guarnere won't have a problem with him," Winters countered. "Meehan's from Philadelphia."

Of course he was. How many paratroopers from Pennsylvania were there going to be? She just sipped at her lukewarm coffee in silence as talk turned to Compton. He spoke freely, without care. He mentioned his American football career at his university, his time in OCS. Then he went on to talk all about baseball, which got Harry and Winters invested as well.

When a runner came for them twenty minutes later, she'd just about had it with sports talk. First Sergeant Evans came up, a bit out of breath. He nodded. "Sirs." After Winters asked him what he needed, he continued on, "Major Strayer wants the officers of Easy Company at the Headquarters tent."

"We're on our way," Winters told him.

As Evans disappeared from the Officers' mess tent, they all fidgeted in their seats, finishing food or drinks. Nixon said he'd join them, despite not being from Easy. Before long, Sveta found herself walking behind them on their way across the Upottery airfield.

Endless rows of green canvas tents dotted the area of Upottery. It was almost like a hive of bees, with enlisted and officers moving to and fro, in and out of tents or hastily thrown together shacks. Sveta found it too loud. But that was the nature of war: loud, chaotic, disorganized. Like the cities she'd grown up in, really.

They reached a large tent that had been built as a temporary headquarters for the 2nd Battalion. opening the wood frame door, they found Strayer standing with Lieutenant Meehan. Sveta had only met him in passing, as with most of the other 506th officers, especially the ones not in 2nd Battalion. But he seemed kind when she'd met him.

Strayer caught sight of them and nodded. "Lieutenants. I'm sure some of you know Lieutenant Meehan already?"

"Yes, sir," Winters nodded.

"Meehan will be taking over as Company Commander, in place of Captain Sobel," he said. Then he paused. "Where's Lieutenant Casmirovna?"

"She wasn't with us, sir," Winters told him. "She had an engagement with Second Platoon this morning."

Strayer sighed. "Nixon, you're not in Easy. Go find her and bring her to Easy's grid."

"Yes, sir."

Sveta watched Nixon leave the tent before turning back to Strayer and Meehan. Major Strayer didn't skip another beat. "Winters, I want you to show Meehan to Easy's HQ. Get him set up with the officers. All of you have a briefing at 1700 hours in Lecture Hall 3."

"Sir."

"Dismissed."

Major Strayer turned away from them, heading over to a second table where a couple of the officers from Fox Company waited for him. Sveta turned to Meehan. He had a smile, a genuine one, and was shaking hands with Winters.

"Congratulations on the promotion, sir," Welsh added. He also shook Meehan's hand. "Couldn't have come at a better time for us."

"So I've heard," Meehan said, his smiling growing a bit. "Rumors of Captain's Sobel's incompetence made their way all the way to Baker."

Winters grimaced. Then he turned to Compton. "This is Lieutenant Buck Compton, fresh in from OCS."

"Sir." Compton saluted, but Meehan extended a hand instead. After shaking it, he smiled. "Pleasure to work with you."

"I hope so." Then he turned to Sveta. "Lieutenant Svetlana Samsonova, correct?"

"Yes." Sveta nodded. "Soviet liaison, assigned to First Platoon."

He nodded. Then he flashed her another smile. He certainly smiled quite a bit. "We ran into each other a few times during training at Mackall, didn't we?"

"Yes, sir," she said, offering him a smile in return. She had to play this right. Play nice. "I have heard only good things." She'd heard not much, to be fair. But they had been good things. "My comrade, Lieutenant Zhanna Casmirovna, serves in Second Platoon."

"You served in the Red Army?"

"As snipers, yes."

Meehan nodded. As they moved out into the open air again, the cloud cover starting to give way to sun, he continued his questions. "Have you seen combat?"

"Yes. We did about a month on the line in the Battle of Smolensk, in 1941." Sveta gritted her teeth. Interrogations. She hated them. "We escaped south, going from Moscow and then to Stalingrad where we were then sent to join the western Allies."

"Must've been a long trek."

Long trek. Sveta restrained herself from either scoffing or rolling her eyes. She could feel Compton, Winters, and Welsh all listening with interest. She had to give them something. And it couldn't be sarcasm. So as Winters led them through rows of tents, she just sighed.

"Yes, it was. We ended up spending time in Tangier before a member of the OSS got us into Gibraltar, and then England." Sveta paused. "We spent time here before being sent to America to join the Paratroopers. I suppose they figured our experience in battle could help you." She felt bitterness creeping in. "Of course, that was dependent on how the Americans decided to see us."

She left it at that. Winters paused, clearly catching her meaning, and Welsh cleared his throat a bit, perhaps out of nervousness. Meehan and Compton had no clue about the struggles she and Zhanna had faced.

"I want to meet all the men by the end of the day," Meehan said. He turned to all of them as they came to a stop before a small tent. "This my tent?"

"Yes, sir." Winters nodded. "Once you've settled in, we'll go find the platoons."

"First is in a VD Lecture," Harry told them. "Should be reporting back here in the next hour."

"Good," Meehan said, nodding. He smiled at them. "Come get me when they're together."

"Yes, sir."

As Meehan dismissed them, Winters hanging behind to help as the XO, Sveta followed Harry. She didn't speak to Compton even though he joined them. She didn't have the energy for that. She had too much on her mind, too many moving parts to deal with. Maybe she could find Zhanna, bring her up to speed on Meehan's arrival.

"I'll find you later," she told Harry. "Send a runner for me when First finishes their lecture."

"Right." He nodded and took a drink from his canteen. "If you find good vodka, send it my way. I'm still unimpressed."

She snorted out a laugh. Then she turned to Compton. "Lieutenant," she said, nodding to him.

"A pleasure to meet you!" he told her.

Sveta looked at him again. He seemed honest. But fair faces could hide fell intentions. Still, she couldn't point to anything in particular. So after a small nod, she turned and left them for her tent.

Hopefully, they would get more information at their briefing at 1700 that night. The drop into, well, wherever couldn't be far off. She hoped it wasn't. She itched to jump back into the mainland. Every step East meant one step closer to home.