Well-Behaved Women Never Make History
Chapter Two: When Blue Met Brown
Chapter Soundtrack
Summary: Claire arrives at Camp Toccoa, where her fate will be decided.
A/N: Hi, everyone! I am back from my unexpected hiatus. I'm very excited about this chapter, and I hope you all are, too. As always, feel free to like, comment, and reblog! I hope everyone enjoys it!
Warnings: Swearing, period-typical behavior, crude behavior towards Claire
Taglist: @whollyjoly @footprintsinthesxnd @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike
June 6, 1942
Camp Toccoa, Georgia
5 p.m. Eastern Time
"Okay, I can do this," Claire muttered to herself.
Claire stood outside the entrance, in front of the sign that read Camp Toccoa, Georgia, searching for the confidence to go in. The young woman clutched her luggage handle with sweaty palms, her stomach twisting with nervous energy.
She fidgeted with her blouse and skirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles and adjusting her luggage for the hundredth time. Her heart raced as she thought about the rigorous training that awaited her in the army. Claire knew she had to push past her nerves and doubts if she wanted to succeed as a combat medic. As she stood alone, lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly jolted back to reality by footsteps approaching from behind.
“Oh shit,” Claire thought anxiously, “This better not be an MP.”
“Staying or going?” the voice next to her asked.
As she turned towards the voice, her eyes landed on a man who seemed to be her age. He stood tall, with a slim build and a clean-shaven face. The late afternoon sun glinted off his dark hair, highlighting his twinkling brown eyes. Like her, he clutched onto his belongings tightly and had one bag sitting on the ground beside him. She breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he wasn't an MP like she feared.
“Staying.” Claire finally replied, “At least I think so.”
"I'm James," he introduced himself with a friendly smile, extending his hand. Claire took a deep breath and shook it firmly, feeling a sense of warmth in his touch. "James Alley."
"Claire O'Connor," she replied, matching his smile with one of her own.
“Are you a nurse here?” He asked.
Combat medic,” she replied with a slight edge to her voice, not looking away from the entrance.
James shifted awkwardly. “Oh, my mistake...So, what company are you in?” he asked nervously, trying to recover.
"Easy Company," Claire answered confidently, finally meeting his gaze again.
The young man's face lit up with a warm smile."So am I. You're the first person I've met from Easy." He laughed, a hint of dryness in his voice. "Should've gotten here earlier."
He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "How long have you been standing here?"
Claire glanced around before answering, "'Bout ten minutes.
James picked up his bags. “Well, you might as well walk with me.” He then nodded towards the entrance. “C’mon.”
Claire picked up her luggage and followed her new friend through the gates, past a row of wooden buildings, and into a bustling camp.
As they walked into Camp Toccoa, Claire's senses were immediately bombarded with the sights and sounds of soldiers moving about. The barracks were lined up in neat rows, flags fluttered in the breeze, and there was a constant stream of voices calling out to one another. Claire couldn't help but feel small and out of place amid the hustle and bustle. Alley looked just as overwhelmed.
“What do we do now?” Alley asked.
Claire shrugged, "I'm guessing we need to find where we're supposed to check in?"
"Yeah, wherever that may be," Alley muttered
Claire gestured to the left. "I don't know...let's try going this way."
The two of them started walking in the direction Claire had pointed out. As they continued through the camp, Claire became aware of how immense Toccoa was and felt small, as if she were wandering alone in a dense, shadowy forest. Walking behind Alley, she noticed a large group of soldiers—seven, to be exact. Even from a distance, their boisterous behavior and loud voices were enough to make her uneasy.
“Oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath.
“What’s the matter?” Alley asked her.
She shook her head. “Nothing, let's keep going.” She quickened her pace, wanting to avoid any potential trouble that might come from being near them.
Claire kept her eyes fixed on the ground, counting each step she took. She could feel the curious glances of the other recruits burning into her skin, but she knew she couldn't let their stares get to her. If she were to make it, she had to prove herself capable and strong. As a young woman in a camp full of grown men, she had reasons to be apprehensive. Therefore, she didn’t want to engage with the group unless necessary.
Unfortunately, as she walked by, everything began.
Someone whistled at her. One yelled, “Hey, look, it’s a broad!” Another yelled something along the lines of, “Oh, yeah!” or, “Hell yeah!” Claire really couldn’t tell with all the commotion. Someone else yelled, “Hey there, beautiful!” Another just cackled at the other four, which only provoked them more. However, when she glanced back, two of the men were simply watching and didn't engage in the crude behavior.
If she rolled her eyes anymore, they would go to the back of her skull. She had two options: walk away or confront them. She would have likely walked away if it were just some unknown boys on the street. But, these were individuals she needed to interact with in the future and could potentially save their lives, so she squared her shoulders and prepared to confront them.
With her head held high and a confident sway to her hips, she marched over to the group, leaving Alley in her wake. As she approached, she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, projecting an intimidating aura that dared anyone to challenge her.
Among the group, there was a red-haired man with dimples, a shorter man biting his lip to hold back laughter, a man with dark hair who seemed disinterested, a lanky one with thick, dark hair, another with sharp features that suggested he could throw a punch, a young-looking boy who kept winking at her, and finally a tall boy with piercing blue eyes. Her intense gaze locked onto his, but he couldn't meet it for long. He quickly averted his eyes and stared at the ground, feeling a flush of embarrassment spread across his cheeks.
“Well, this is some group,” she thought to herself as she observed the seven before her, “A real bunch of jokers is what they are.”
She shifted her weight to one leg and took a deep breath, the sound of frustration escaping her lips. “There something you need to say to me?”
The first five, Claire dubbed the ‘rowdy ones,’ stared at the ground, trying to contain their laughter. The other two avoided eye contact with her and exchanged glances.
She leaned in closer. “What is it?” You don’t know what to say when a girl has bigger balls than you, doesn’t take your shit, and stands up for herself?”
They were silent now.
“Thought so,” With a satisfied smirk, she confidently strutted off with Alley at her heels. Claire felt a sense of satisfaction with what she had accomplished in the mere ten minutes she had been here.
The red-headed man chuckled, “Well, I'll be damned,” he exclaimed.
“Wasn’t expecting all that,” the shorter one laughed, gesturing towards Claire.
“Hey! Hey! Buddy, come here!” the skinny one called out to Alley.
Alley sighed and begrudgingly walked back toward the group, “Yeah?”
“So, tell us, what’s the deal with girly?” the tough-looking one asked.
As Alley shrugged his shoulders and began explaining how they had just arrived at Camp Toccoa together, the blue-eyed boy found himself lost in thought. He wondered what it would be like to have a conversation with this girl, to discover more about her beyond her fiery attitude and unwavering confidence. It was an unfamiliar feeling for him, this curiosity that was slowly growing within.
“Hey, watcha lookin’ at, Grant?” one asked, nudging him in the side.
“Nothing.” he snapped back.
“Uh-huh, sure,” the youngest of the group replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at his friend's obvious interest in Claire.
Grant's cheeks flushed red, and he quickly averted his gaze from his friends. He couldn't deny that there was something about Claire that had captivated him, but he didn't want to admit it either. He was always known as the level-headed one, the guy who didn't let distractions get in the way of his focus. But there was an indisputable spark within him that had been ignited the moment he locked eyes with her.
As soon as he gained a sense of boldness, Grant found himself chasing after her. He couldn't let her go without at least trying to make things right.
Claire quickened her stride, relieved to be away from the group. Yet she couldn’t help but feel guilty that the group had summoned Alley back.
“Excuse me, miss?” She heard someone call out as they ran up to her.
She stopped in her tracks, “Jesus Christ,” she murmured as she rolled her eyes and turned on her heel. She anticipated encountering one of the other boys, but to her surprise, it was the quiet one.
Claire cocked her head to the side, piercing him with a sharp gaze. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, and her voice carried a steely edge, "Yes?"
Grant shuffled nervously, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He glanced up at her, trying to compose himself before speaking.
“Hi, there. I...uh... just wanted to apologize on behalf of my friends. They’re a bunch of idiots and shouldn’t have acted that way,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced over at his rowdy friends, who were still causing a scene.
Claire wasn’t impressed, “So, why aren’t they apologizing?
“Um, well,” he stammered, meeting her eyes with a mixture of apology and nervousness. "I thought it would be more sincere if I apologized instead."
"Well, it's not your fault they're idiots," she replied, her voice softening slightly.
He nodded, relieved by her response. "Still, I should have stepped in and stopped them from harassing you."
She quirked an eyebrow, her expression guarded “Mm.”
“My name’s Grant. Charles Grant,” he introduced himself, extending a hand towards her.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she returned the gesture, “Claire O’Connor.”
Claire studied Grant closely, taking in his tall stature and young features. Despite his attempts to remain calm and composed, she could see the way he was shaking slightly, the way his cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment.
It was clear to her that Grant was a man who was not accustomed to being rattled, but there was something about her that had thrown him off balance. In a way, it was oddly refreshing to know that even the strong and confident could be knocked off their feet sometimes.
She had to admit that Grant was undeniably handsome, the way his golden brown hair was neatly side-parted, not a strand out of place. Her gaze was drawn to his mesmerizing eyes, which resembled the clear blue sky on this warm Georgia afternoon. And she found herself unable to look away from him.
"Oh no, Claire, this is not why you're here. We are not doing this again. Remember what happened last time," she scolded herself.
“I’m guessing you’re here to be a nurse or a medic?” Grant inquired.
“Combat medic, yes,” she confirmed. “I know some French from high school, so I’m hoping they might make me a translator, as well."
Grant nodded, impressed by her intelligence and multitasking abilities. "That's impressive."
Claire glanced around the camp, "You wouldn't happen to know where the check-in is?"
“Yeah, I do. I’ll show you if you’d like,” Grant offered.
She graciously accepted and led the way with Grant close behind. Of course, the group of boys behind them caught sight of this and started pushing and shoving each other, their voices rising in excited hollers.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you from?” he inquired politely.
"Detroit, Michigan. How about you?" she responded.
"Southern California," he answered with a hint of nostalgia in his voice.
"Is that so?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "I've always been fond of California. I vacationed there once."
Grant smiled. "Looks like we're both city kids.”
“I suppose we are," she nodded.
As they rounded the corner, a quaint wooden building came into view. "Here we are," Grant announced.
After expressing her gratitude for his assistance, she turned towards the building. She paused for a moment to glance back at him before entering. He stayed outside, waiting patiently. Feeling a bit awkward, he tried to distract himself by taking in his surroundings.
The door creaked as she pushed it open, revealing a cramped room with peeling paint and a musty smell. She noticed a person she presumed to be an officer lounging in a chair behind a desk.
She nervously cleared her throat. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m here to check in, sir.”
“Name?” the man asked.
“Claire Renée O’Connor. I’m here to be a medic.”
Not expecting to see her, the man nearly fell out of his seat when he heard this. To which Claire, of course, had to look out the window next to her to stop herself from laughing at his reaction.
After composing himself, he cleared his throat. “Just a moment, please.”
The man turned and walked back to another room behind him. “Hey, Dick, she’s here.”
Returning to the office, he introduced himself as Lieutenant Lewis Nixon. He extended his hand to Claire, who shook it firmly while trying to hide her nerves.
Another man walked into the office. He was tall with red hair. He offered his hand and introduced himself as Lieutenant Richard Winters.
“You must be Miss Claire O’Connor?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” she nodded and shook his hand too.
“Pleasure to meet you.” He handed her a thick stack of papers and a pen. “Please review these documents, verify everything is correct, and sign.”
"Certainly," Claire quickly scanned the pages, her eyes darting back and forth as she checked each line for any errors. After a few minutes, she confidently signed her name at the bottom of the last page.
“You’ll be assigned to Second Platoon, Private.”
She nodded, “Yes, sir.”
“Here’s your gear: Dress uniform, PT gear, combat uniform, helmet, utility belt, dog tags, and boots,” Winters explained as he handed her each thing. The pile was so tall that she couldn't see over it.
“Welcome to the Airborne, Private,” Winters said, his voice booming and filled with pride.
“Thank you, sir," Claire saluted.
Claire left the building with her stack of gear, stepping out into the humid air. Grant was still standing there, waiting for her, but was now rolling up his sleeves to gain relief from the heat. He turned to see Claire carrying her vast stack of newly acquired gear.
"Here, let me help you with that," he offered as he walked towards her.
A flicker of appreciation danced across Claire's eyes. "I appreciate that," she admitted, "but I can handle myself just fine."
Grant's lips curled up into a small smile. "I believe that," he said, "But, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn't offer my help?"
Claire hesitated for a moment, considering Grant's offer. She wanted to be more independent, to not rely on anyone else for help; she had done that for too long in her life. But there was something about Grant's genuine kindness that made her reconsider.
Claire sighed, "He is really sweet," she said to herself, "Maybe I should give him a chance."
"Alright, fine," she gave in as she handed him the stack and continued carrying her luggage.
Grant's smile widened at Claire's acceptance of his offer. He carefully took the stack of gear from her, making sure not to drop anything.
"Thank you, Claire said softly, "I do really appreciate it. I didn't mean to sound cold."
Grant shook his head, a gentle laugh escaping his lips. "No worries, I understand the need for independence. So, what platoon are you in?" he asked.
"Second," she replied.
"So am I. I'll show you where the barracks are." Grant said, genuinely pleased by the coincidence.
Grant walked alongside Claire, each step in sync with the other. As they made their way through the bustling camp, Claire tried to keep her gaze ahead, focusing on the dirt path in front of her. But no matter how hard she tried, her eyes kept drifting toward him. His stride was confident, his posture strong, and there was a subtle grace to the way he carried himself. She wondered what stories lay behind those kind eyes, what experiences shaped him into the man he is today.
"You know, you didn't have to wait for me back there. I could've made it around on my own," Claire said, her voice laced with curiosity.
Grant shrugged, "I wanted to. You know, I was in your shoes just this morning when I first arrived."
Claire raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Grant's admission. "You were lost too?" she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Grant chuckled, nodding as they continued walking. "Oh, definitely. I must have taken every wrong turn possible before finally finding my way around this place. I'm still not exactly sure we're going in the right direction."
Claire laughed for the first time since she left home, the sound echoing through the camp, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers. Grant's face lit up with joy at the sound of Claire's laughter. It was contagious, filling him with a newfound sense of ease. He found himself yearning to hear it again and again, to be the one responsible for that joyful sound.
"I appreciate your kindness," Claire replied sincerely. "Most of the guys my age I've encountered haven't been nearly this nice."
Grant smiled warmly at her. "Well, they don't know what they're missing out on then," he said. "You seem like a force to be reckoned with."
Never in a million years would Grant have pictured himself running after a girl, especially one he hadn't even spoken to, and being so open with her. Having never felt this way around someone was a strange feeling for him. But, here he was, now befriending her.
Claire nodded, though a part of her couldn't fully trust Grant's words. She couldn't let his words fill her head with false hope, especially when the odds were stacked against her.
As they neared the busier parts of the camp, many of the soldiers they walked past shot Claire curious yet dirty looks, sizing her up with judgment and skepticism. She could feel their eyes on her, questioning her presence amongst them, and some began whistling at her.
"Aren't you afraid they'll tease you for helping me?"
"Afraid? Not at all," Grant replied, his voice steady and confident, as he shot dirty looks right back at them. He stood up straighter and walked with a swagger. "Let them try," he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Claire to hear.
Claire spoke up, "So, who was the group of guys you were with? Like, what're their names, I mean?"
"The one with red hair, that's Malarkey. The one who didn't say anything, that's Toye. The skinny one with the thick dark hair, that's Liebgott. The shorter one, that's Luz. The tough-looking one is Guarnere. And the young-looking one standing next to me, that's Talbert." Grant explained.
As Grant listed off the names, Claire made mental notes, trying to match the faces with the names, "I see."
"They're good guys. I mean, I haven't known them for more than a few hours, but they seem like good people," he reassured her.
They reached the barracks, a large wooden structure with peeling paint and worn-out steps.
"Well, here we are," Grant sighed, "You can pick any bed that isn't taken."
He held the door open for Claire, allowing her to enter first. The first thing that caught her attention was the overpowering smell of sweat and dirt, mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes.
Inside, the room was filled with bunk beds lined up against the walls, clothing, and gear strewn about haphazardly. A few soldiers were playing cards at a small table in the corner, their laughter filling the air. Claire noticed that some of them turned to look at her as they entered, their eyes filled with curiosity.
Grant led her to the last empty bed near the corner, between two occupied ones. He carefully set down her stack of gear and moved to stand beside her. He motioned towards the bed on Claire's left, "This one's mine, and on your other side is Roe. He's also here to be a medic. I think you two will get along just fine!"
"Thank you again," Claire smiled at Grant, "I really appreciate your help. I know at first I was a bit resistant, but having a kind and trustworthy person like you by my side makes everything a lot easier."
Grant beamed at the compliment, feeling a warm glow in his chest. "I don't mind at all. It's my pleasure to help you," Grant responded, his words genuine and warm.
For once, Claire didn't feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. For once, she had someone who cared about her, someone who would look out for her, and someone who was willing to be her friend.
With a final nod, Grant turned to leave, but not before catching Claire's eye and giving her a reassuring smile. "I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see you around," Claire replied, watching with a heavy heart as Grant walked towards the door and out of the barracks.
As Grant disappeared into the camp, Claire wondered if this newfound friendship would last or if they would just be fleeting acquaintances in a world that seemed determined to tear her apart.
