Maggie turned around from the seat in front, nearly knocking the head off the girl next to her with a sharp elbow. "What are you talking about? No one's waving."

Maria looked at her with obvious irritation. "Shut up! I'm talking to Liz, not to you."

The younger girl looked hurt and rapidly faced front again. Liz could just picture her big green eyes welling with tears. It was just a few days ago that Maggie had told them she was really only sixteen, but Liz and Maria had guessed it long before then. There was no way that any high school graduate could every be that continuously perky and chipper.

Maria groaned. "Listen, Maggie, I didn't mean that."

"Sure you didn't," she muttered, not turning around.

Maria's temper flared. "For Christ's sake, grow up and get over it."

Maggie burst into tears and began to sob.

"Oh God," Liz muttered to herself.

****

Max wandered slowly back toward the main entrance. Liz's plane was long gone into the distance. They were headed toward the channel, and then to Italy. Max shuddered when he thought of the kind of territory they were flying over.

He looked around; the only people in sight were a trio of nurses from the contingent that had arrived just before Liz's group left. Alex was nowhere to be seen. Max needed to talk to him. He didn't want to know what Liz had said, really, but in a way he had to know, as simply as he had to eat every day.

He headed toward the room that Alex and Liz had shared. The door was closed. He tried the knob; it was locked. He knocked lightly on the door. "Alex? You in there?"

There was silence for a moment, and Max's heart sped up anxiously. Then he heard, "Fuck off, cocksucker."

Max backed away. Liz had told him. She must have. Alex swore occasionally, but he'd never directly insulted Max before. *Never.* But now he'd screwed his best friend's girl, and Alex knew.

"Shit," Max muttered. A war, he could deal with. But Alex betrayed?

****

"Faster, troops! Hey, get those chins to the ground!"

"Shit," Max muttered to Alex, who was a few feet away as they endured their torture sessions, aka "push-ups." "I can't believe my goddamn brother-in-law gets to boss us around."

Alex ignored him and somehow managed to move a few inches farther away without breaking his rhythm. Max managed not to swear. How could this be happening? How could he have so alienated his best friend? How could he have slept with the best girl he knew when he belonged to Alex? Goddammit, he had to come up with a way to get past this. Alex would get over it eventually. Maybe it had been inevitable...maybe those stiff, unhappy letters hadn't even been the beginning of it. It was making him crazy. Why the hell did he do it? Why didn't he pull away, leave the room?

Because he could never refuse Liz Parker anything, that's why. Not even when they were children.He glanced over at his best -- well, not anymore, he thought ruefully -- friend and saw the sweat pouring off his skin in the May heat. Even the British officers seemed disturbed by it; it was unnatural for this climate. And spring storms had been pouring consistently through, causing the general and President Roosevelt to delay the invasion.

They had only been told about it a week ago. *Men, we're going in.* But the weather kept causing delays. Now they'd had a few nice days, but not enough time to prepare. And from the looks of the clouds building to the southwest, they weren't going to be sailing the channel anytime soon.

At least, he hoped not.

Max had always had built-in intuition about big events in his life; it had been in place since he and his sister had been adopted as children. And that same sense was telling him that however this invasion went down, it would change everything. Forever.

****

Liz blinked in the bright sunlight. She wasn't used to it after so much time on two foggy coasts, but it was pleasant and reminded her of home. The warm Italian wind lifted her spirits after the dank British winter chill.

The eyes of several thousand soldiers, however, sent her head reeling. She'd known it was finally time when the plane left the ground, but after so long in Delaware and England she'd simply grown used to routine. Up at seven, practice, lunch, practice, free time. Everything must be perfect, girls; the boys are watching. Of course, no one ever said what Liz thought. *We'd better not mess up, because this might be the last nice thing those boys ever get to see.*

Now it was nine a.m., and ten thousand war-weary men were eyeing the way her skimpy dress clung to her body in the heat.

She glanced over at Maria and Maggie. Maria seemed nervous but exhilarated, and Maggie looked terrified. A smile touched Liz's lips. No surprises with those two. She looked over at the singer, a little-known but up-and-coming redhead. With her looks, Liz had a feeling she was going to wind up a Hollywood movie star rather than a singer when the war was over. The record executives would take one look at her and call their buddies over at MGM.

If the war was ever over.

It was five years for Europe now, three for her country. Looking out at the troops made her mildly nauseous. Why did these men -- these boys, rather, many of them younger even than she was -- have to die? She'd spoken with some of them and seen the hollow ache in their eyes. Would it ever go away? Luckily, she'd never have to see it in the eyes of the two men that she loved.

Liz's head snapped to attention as the sharp whistle sounded. The men fell silent as the singer began to warble tunes so familiar back home, and the dancers fell into step around her.

****

Max raised his head to the sound of trucks rolling in. What the hell was going on? The invasion, which they'd first learned about almost a month ago, had been delayed repeatedly. All the soldiers thought it was a joke, calming the butterflies in their stomachs by saying that the invasion would never happen. Max wasn't so certain. His own company had been stuck in an allied country for months, and Max had a feeling it was at least partially intentional. They wanted fresh, uninjured -- and inexperienced, Max thought to himself -- men. And from the looks of the trucks that had been coming in the last few days, this invasion, if the weather ever cleared, was going to be enormous. The trucks were brimming with everything from ammunition to new troops, freshly shipped from Canada and the U.S.

More men poured from these trucks, and Max swore. Just what they needed; more overcrowding. And what if the Jerries got wind of this huge gathering? All it would take was one bomb and the whole invasion would be shot to hell.

In addition to everything, Max had become certain that Alex would never forgive him. But what about Liz, Max wondered. How did he feel about her, now? It was clear enough that she had broken his heart with her cold words the day she left for Italy. But knowing Alex, he'd chase her to the ends of the earth.

He wandered outside, ignoring the shouting and laughing that permeated the air. He kept under the makeshift tarps that had been strung up all around the hospital-turned-base, protecting everyone from the ceaseless rain that fell. Not only did it rain constantly, but the temperature had dropped considerably from the month before, leaving everyone miserable. Max longed for the dry heat of his home town.

Actually, he just wanted to get out of the goddamned rain before he drowned in it.

****

"Ladies, we're leaving for further up the front tomorrow. Get yourselves together and be ready to go by 0600."

A chorus of groans rose up from the girls, but their new trainer, who reminded Liz more of a chaperone, ignored them. "I want to stick around here," Maria whispered. "Some of these boys have potential, if you know what I mean."

Liz chuckled. Her friend talked big, but she knew she was still in mourning over her fiance. She had no interest in any of the soldiers here, and it was a feeling that Liz shared.

****

Max was the first in line in the makeshift mess hall that night, and he managed to get a table by himself. That made him feel safer; that way, he'd have authority over who sat at the table with him. Not everyone here was friendly to him anymore. Rumors had spread quickly among his company about Alex's sudden depression and Max's night with Liz, which, apparently, everyone knew about. He watched the growing crowd carefully as he ate his mass-prepared stew and bread.

A tap on the back almost caused him to spit his meal all over the table. "Mind if I sit down?"

Max turned around to look at the intruder. "Sure, if you don't mind sitting with the company pariah."

The man laughed, pulling out a chair and adjusting it for his long legs. He definitely had a few inches on Max heightwise. "Hey, I've been the pariah myself a few times. It's not an problem. All I want is a place to sit."

Max put down his spoon and offered his hand. "Max Evans."

"Michael Guerin," the tall blonde said with a grin. "So how long have you been stuck in this shithole?"

"Oh, about five months," Max said.

"Well, not too much longer. I've been told we're shipping out tomorrow."

"We? Tomorrow? Your company, or mine?"

"Everybody. All these companies, everyone gathered here. My sergeant told me today. He'll tell you pretty much anything if you know how to ask. Hope that ass never gets captured, he'll tell the damned Germans everything he knows."

Max had forgotten himself briefly. Everyone. All these men here -- there were thousands upon thousands of them. And how did they expect to get across the channel in this weather? Were they going to walk on the water?

He snorted to himself and the newcomer, Guerin, looked at him curiously. "So how'd you wind up the company, ah, outcast? Everyone in my company hates me, but they're just jealous."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I was the one who snuck out with the local ladies while everyone else got caught and then got latrine duty."

Max laughed.

"So what's your story, Evans?"

Max shrugged. "If you want to know, you can ask anyone who's been here a month. Betcha they could tell it in more gory detail than I could."

Michael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and went back to eating his dinner.

****

Liz finished loading bags on the plane. The big, brawny Nebraska girl who normally did it was sick, and Liz always got the short stick. Now her back ached and her head hurt from the plane's fumes and noise.

"You ready?" asked the trainer, approaching her from behind and startling her.

"Ready for what?" Liz asked, confused.

"To get so close to the front. You may have thought it was bad here, with all these wounded men, but I can guarantee you that where we're going it will be positively horrific. You seem a little out of it lately, Miss Parker, and I'm wondering if you can handle what you're going to see."

"Yes," Liz said, straightening her back so she matched the trainer in height. "I don't think it will be a problem, Miss Barnes."

"You think or you know?"

Liz sighed inwardly. This woman had no clue what had made her seem out of sorts. "I know that it won't be a problem."

"Good," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow, 0600."

Liz shook her head and closed the bin, coughing a little as the fuel truck pulled away.

****

Max was totally unnerved now. The soldiers had piled inside the landing craft, and many of them were getting sick in the stormy, rocking water.

Michael had been right. Storm or no, danger or no, the invasion was happening. And it was happening now.

Alex wasn't here, having transferred to another company at the last possible second. For the first time in his life now, Max had no clue what was about to happen to him. Would he die tommorrow morning on the beach of France? He closed his eyes.

Now Max tried to ignore the smell of the vomit and the sea water. He couldn't ignore the 80 pounds of equipment on his back, or the loaded gun he clasped nervously in his hands.