A/N: Hello! I'd like to say before we begin that I will be writing the characters in this story as how they're depicted in the show, not how they are in reality. The story's rating might go up from T to M, due to some later chapters, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there. I'll be taking inspiration from the HBO series, Don Malarkey's book Easy Company Soldier, and Stephen Ambrose's book Band of Brothers. Other than that, I hope you guys enjoy this story and thanks for clicking on it.

My reflection in the mirror was unrecognizable, I thought. My skin had turned pale white and I could easily count the small blue veins in my face. This is what old age did to you; you became someone you wouldn't normally recognize. My hair had turned from light auburn to snow white, and my calloused hands were frail and wrinkled. Old age had taken my eyelashes and a few patches of hair was missing; despite the fact that I had tried to hide it, the odd stump of my ear was now visibly to anyone who looked at the right side of my face. My back was bent so I was now even smaller than I had been in my youth.

A coughing fit sent me doubling over and I pulled the handkerchief away from my mouth to see the small specks of blood. Damn lung cancer...

"Grandma?" The voice of my granddaughter came in through the hospital door. "Are you alright? Could you open the door?" I stiffly walked over to the door and opened it, revealing my twenty-three year old granddaughter named Emma. She was the youngest daughter of my youngest son, Bennett. Her hazel eyes were wide with worry but I shrugged the young girl off of me and I managed to shuffle to my bed. Emma helped me get back into bed and I sighed with relief at getting off of my feet.

"While you were in there, you got a call from a man named Don Malarkey," Emma said. "He said that he's coming tomorrow." I smiled at the thought of my old friend coming to see me. "I take it by the smile on your face, you know him?"

I let out a small laugh that turned into a painful fit of coughing. When I finished, I put the bloody tissue in the nearby trash can and looked at Emma. "He's one of my oldest friends. It figures that he's see me when I needed him."

Emma watched me cautiously, as if she wasn't sure if she should continue or not. "Can I ask how you know him?"

"Well, since you just did," I said gruffly. "He's one of my closest friends from the war."

"The war?"

"World War Two." I said, saying the name as the faces of all of my old friends flashed through my mind. I brushed my eyes at the thought of all of my closest friends gone. "I hate that damned war," I said bitterly. Emma's eyes widened at my profanity. "But in the end, I guess I have to thank God it happened, because it led me to the greatest men I've ever known."

"Dad never said anything about that," Emma said with wide eyes. "I never would've guessed you were actually there."

"Bennett knew the topic was a sore one," I said. "He never would've told you or your siblings unless he knew I wanted you all to know." I paused and raised my brow at her. "I'm missing an ear; how did you not guess?"

"Dad threatened us never to mention it. He said we'd get in big trouble if we did." Emma said, laughing slightly and glancing at the stump that was my right ear. "So that's how you know Mr. Malarkey?"

I snorted. "Don't call him that to his face. That man hates feeling like an old man." I paused. "There aren't many of us left. I think there's probably four left if you include me. I keep in touch with most of them, but Malark and I always talk to one another at least three times a week."

"I didn't know women were on the front lines during that war."

I snorted again. "The families of the women who fought were so mortified they didn't really talk about it. My own mother made some lie about how I went to be a volunteer nurse in New York; near the boys but not in any kind of danger. Mind you, there weren't a lot of women on the front lines; I only met one who was going there, but she was going to the Pacific; I was in Europe. Those who were out there with the boys were either shunned or protected by their comrades."

Emma leaned forward. "Could you tell me about it?" I looked over at her and blinked. "Could you tell me about your service?" She repeated.

I felt my eyes slide out of focus as I tried to find a good place to start. "It's a long story." I said simply.

Emma checked her watch. "I'm here 'till seven tonight."

"I mean it's a really long story," I said again. Emma still looked eager to hear. "I'm dying of lung cancer. I know that for a fact. That Kraut doctor of mine told me that I barely have a few weeks left. I might as well tell someone the whole thing." I paused, thinking back and trying to find a good place to start. "I don't where to begin."

"You volunteered right?" Emma asked. "Why not there?"

I thought about it for a beat. "My mother set up my older sister's wedding. She met with some other socialite from the town, got their kids together and they got married after knowing one another for about two months. She wanted to do the same to me. I went to a church in our town, praying that God would show me a different way or if He could make my mother understand that marriage wasn't for me yet. The very next day, a booth went up right outside the church, asking for volunteers for the Army. I volunteered in a heartbeat, knowing that that was the sign I'd been waiting for. It was enough for my mother to cut me out of the family entirely." My voice drifted off before I managed to pull myself back. "My sisters and I were expected to be the image of our mother; graceful and poised, sophisticated and soft-spoken. She wanted us to marry nice, Catholic boys and give her lots of grandchildren. Considering how I joined the Army without her permission, fought and bled my way through training, spoke like a sailor, and married a Jewish boy, I don't think I made her very proud right away.

"Like I said earlier, my mother told the town I went to New York to be a volunteer nurse." I said. "She had lost her brother to the first world war, so I don't blame her anymore for treating me so harshly. But I'll get to that later. I think I'll start with basic training, that in itself is one hell of a story.

"I trained in Georgia for almost two years, learning how to fire a rifle, how to survive off K rations, how to jump out of planes and into enemy territory, how to do anything the men could do." I continued. "I was a combat medic, so I also learned about all the field techniques and the right procedures to perform under pressure and how to save a man's life. I had already known a lot about medicine, but it took joining the Army for me to realize how little I knew about healing."

Emma was hanging on to every word I was saying. I smiled to myself. "Enough of that; I'm gonna tell you about my journey from Camp Toccoa to Europe. War is hell, and I saw death every day I was out there. But those men were my brothers, my comrades, and this is the story of how we went through hell together."