ii. CAPTURED BY THE EAGLES
_____
BAND OF BROTHERS
EP. 2

___________________

| KALISKA PUSHED ON EVEN WHEN THE SOLDIERS RETREATED LIKE COWARDS. The hatred she held steamed within—readying to burst. They talked a big game about glory and all the winnings with it, but never about how they'd have to risk certain things in order to achieve such a thing. She was dragged to into this by them and warranted that they would protect her and she would protect them..But atlas, they left her to the screaming eagles—the Americans.

To have a fate that would be decided by them and the lord only knows what they had in plan. Stories of the eastern front against the Soviet's only bought worry down upon her. The propaganda that was spread by the SS, claiming the invading forces would give citizens a fate worse than death.

Kaliska tried her best on clearing her mind of such thoughts—no matter how much she cared for Deutschland, such barbaric claims shouldn't have been forced upon.

She was determined to uphold her promise—to not only serve her country in a best way she could but to protect her patients. Yes, there were things she did not care for that her country did, then again don't all people have things they don't particularly care for in theirs?

Through the continuous droplets of little tears and dread that spread like wildfire throughout her body, she did not yield. The man upon the table let out a groggily blood filled cry as his head turned from side to side. Kaliska, still traumatized over what Franz had done and what had befallen him—she fumbled with placing the bandages down on the table. Her every-now and then glancing to the lump body against the wall.

In between her sniffles and the groans of the wounded men, sounds of gunfire trickled in. The rhythms almost matched that of her frantic heart pounding.

Pushing the dread and atrocious thoughts from her mind, she began to clean away at the flesh and bone that seemingly having melting away from the body. The skin flaked up his thigh bones reminded her of shredded fabric—one that's been cut a dozen or so times by child with a pair scissors.

As she cleaned, the thigh bones began to slightly move up and down, almost as though his mind assumed his legs were still attached. He only grunted in response with his body twitching as she continued to swap away at his torn flesh— separating the dirt particles. " Alright, that should do it." She tried her best to fake a smile upon her lips, just to boost the moral within this man—that something beautiful as her could give him the will to fight on.

Then, switching over from cleaning, Kaliska gently lifted the once-a-leg at a time to set it—to prepare it for wrapping. Then placing it onto a tiny piece of cut wood that she had found hidden under the clutter. With delicate like steadiness, she started wrapping the white fabric around the wounded man's missing legs.

His grunts of discomfort added to her hungered unease of the unexpected. He clenched his fists tightly as she tucked the last part of the fabric in. There many words she presumed he wanted to say but he held them to himself.

With a crackle in the near distance, she glanced to the window, a yellowed orange sliver formed across the horizon— illuminating the blackened trees. The trickle of light flickered in through the faded and cracked windows. Dawn was fast approaching and yet, there was not a let up on the fighting. Her eyes began to sting from the dryness, almost 12 hrs she had been up. Barely anything to eat or drink, not one momentary nap or rest of her eyes—just pushing on.

It was around this time that she noticed the yelling and the frantic footsteps outside had stopped—well, it had stopped from sometime with her only having time now to go see what had befallen her comrades. As Kaliska steadily opened the door, her heart sank upon realizing she was truly left there to fend for herself.

Glancing up, there laid a body limp in a parachute—stuck in the tree. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat when she gazed upon the unknown solder—one that was certainly American. Her instincts to help was kicking in, but upon further analysis, the man was now longer amongst the living.

As she slowly stepped back away him, never once withdrawing her sight, her heel made contact with something rather gooey, causing her body tumble backwards. Quickly, she placed her hand over her mouth capture the muffled scream that abruptly came forth. Flesh and skin from the carcass of horse squished beneath her heel. And if that wasn't enough, the smell was just atrocious, making her stomach churned as she stumbled back into the house.

Kaliska placed both of her hands against the table the man had been sitting on—leaning her upper body upon them as her head hung low inbetween. Trying to regain  herself, she thought of happier times. Those little parties as child and playing with toys without a care for the world. But she knew eventually that everyone would come to meet their end—even her.

Her eyes slowly locked with the little bracelet upon her wrist on the right arm—something her dear, younger sister had made for her before she left for nursing school. Once of tiny wooden flowers, craved from the finest wood.

As she rose back up, she gripped onto the bracelet and began to momentarily pray—praying to see home once more.  The light from the overhanging sun now casted dancing shadows upon her clothing and skin as it rose through the smoke.

The flicker of hope that just embodied her whole, was slowly fading until she started to hear voices outside. Eagerly, she started for the door until one spoke, and there she realized it wasn't in German.

Carefully, Kaliska flattened herself out against the wall, trying her best to not make a peep. As the soldiers continued talking, she moved slightly over—just enough to peer out the broken window.

Her blues eyes fell upon a dozen or so soldiers, wearing tannish uniforms and tons of gear. But what stuck out the most wasn't that, but the lone patch upon the arm—the screaming eagles. In the pit of her stomach, she couldn't decide rather or not she should be happy or scared. The Americans were there.

A patient groaned in pain from behind her and as Kaliska turned to mend him, she knocked over the tin cans along the wall—making a loud, obnoxious noise that rang throughout the building.

Immediately, she heard the soldiers quiet down and the faint sound of footsteps fastly approaching the entrance.
Quickly, she trudged over to the man on the table, ignoring the frail calls of those leaning against the wall. As she stood there, with one hand upon the dying soldiers head and the other beside her—she found herself glancing over to the silver scalpel that laid beside the torn cabinet. It was a battle of the mind and gut, one pleading with her to take it and defend herself while the other, pleaded to just surrender.

"Who's in there!?" A loud voice bellowed from outside, a voice that was trying its best to mimic the German language. But she did not answer, fear was conquering her body whole when it was deemed her time to be the one to protect. 

Within mere seconds, the door came crushing in as it buckled against the weight of the soldiers. This tone Kaliska couldn't help herself but scream out in utter fear. The soldiers against the wall tried to stand to their feet, ready to fight till the end, but it was put down instantly as two men stood by the entrance—guns drawn. She watched as the two took in the half-destroyed house and the wounded, Franz's limp body before finally landing upon her.

They must have noticed her frightened look as both slowly lowered their weapons while the tall amongst the two, gazed over to his buddy.

"Bitte nicht schießen!" (Please don't shoot) she quivered before slowly rising her arms above her head—a white cloth clenched in one. The two soldiers eyed one another before a voice from outside boomed, "Anyone in there?"
"Yea..." one of them sounded rather cautiously.

The semi-shorter one steadily placed his gun into the other hand, beckoning for her to come with the other, but she did not heed—as it was her duty to protect and care for the wounded. Her eyes frantically glanced around the house, to her wounded as they lay there wide eyed.

Frustrated, the man sighed heavily before strolling over to where she was, " I don't have time for this." He grumbled under his breath before grabbing her harshly by the arm, dragging her from her station out of house towards the others. "Ah Nein!" She yawped through pleas for air— praying that someone would hear her frantic calls and come to help.

The men that had been sorting the dead for supplies immediately stopped what they were doing upon seeing her flailing and twisting around in his grip. Then he let her go and she tumbled down to the ground hard—some the black pantyhose against her leg ripping in the process. Kaliska cradled up into a ball, the very words of the propaganda washing over in her brain as the tears began soaking her cheeks.

Was this to be her determined fate? Was the propaganda true to its word, would she be given a fate worse than death? Judging by how harshly the man had handled her, perhaps it was true.

Her wondering eyes gazed upon the faces of these unknown intruders as some glanced upon her. " What are you doing?" One of them asked he stepped closer to her, glaring at the man who handled her harshly.

The man only shrugged, " She's a filthy German. The enemy." The other man sighed heavily, "Guarnere, She's not the enemy, but a woman doing her nursing duty."" The man calmly spoke—lookin back down at Kaliska, who's eyes were wide like saucers.

"Right Lip, don't you think she was potentially planning to kill us if it wasn't for the cans knocking over in there."
"No," another voice spoke from behind the one kneeling down—a man of reddish hair and war paint across his face.

" She wasn't going to hurt us, now calm down." He persisted while he fixed his gear. The man, she noticed was called Guarnere, merely looked at him questionably, " Oh yea, and how do you know that?"

The man of whom she had yet to learn his name, quickly doubled back, " Because she's a Nurse, sworn to oath to save lives not take them." He pleaded before turning and pointing two other soldiers. " You two, watch and travel with her behind the line." Kaliska watched them as they saluted and began walking over towards her cowering body. He then gazed back to Guarnere, "We'll take her back with us to rendezvous point, at least there she'll be better off and fed."

But Guarnere only rolled his eyes as he muttered something under his breath before turning away from him. The two soldiers slowly stood her back up to her feet, and there was when she got a better look at the place. A truck laid destroyed just beside the house, the horse she had stepped in was in pieces and dozens of her own people laid face down upon the earth.

" Come on, let's go." One of them calmly said before giving her light push against her back. But Kaliska only staggered forward a mere few inches as thought of potentially leaving her patients was not an idea she wanted. 

She soon felt another push against her back making her go forward—while the other patted her to raise her arms up above her head. Now with them there, she knew she was truly a prisoner of war—and this wasn't time for her to be playing around for she didn't have a choice anymore.

________________________

Author's Note
•
' I'm so slow at updating,
but it's mainly because
I want a good chapter to be put out
there & not something
I frantically threw together.

Also! Be sure to remember that bracelet! It's important!👀

-Shiv🧸