TWENTY-FIVE BECAME THE PIVOTAL MILESTONE, MARKING THE CULMINATION OF SURVIVAL THROUGH NUMEROUS MISSIONS... It was a magic number — one that seemed almost impossible to achieve. Yet those who reached this goal were granted reprieve, returning home to craft narratives around their experiences in bomb tours. Today happened to be Lieutenant Dye's 25th mission, yet he was conspicuously absent. The Bloody Hundredth gathered, anxiously awaiting his return, their patience wearing thin as the minutes ticked by. With every passing second, unease settled among them, for the raven was now more than 15 minutes overdue.
"What do you think will happen to the boys if Dye doesn't make it?" Questioned the young woman, her grip firm on the steering wheel of the jeep. It was her first time driving the jeep, a skill taught to her by Bucky, who thought it'd help keep her mind occupied. Ever since Algeria, she hadn't been the same. Though she masked it, her fraying mental state was noticeable to the aircrewmen. Once a ray of sunshine with a short fuse for bullshit, she now exhibited signs of aggression and recklessness, her newfound drinking habits alarming her friends. The doc mentioned night terrors, her screams echoing the names of fallen comrades each night.
In essence, she was mirroring John Egan, a transformation that worried both the blonde and the raven Majors deeply, for only they understood the inner turmoil that tormented Bucky, the demons he battled on a daily basis, resorting to alcoholism to silence his internal screaming. Following the devastating losses they endured last month, their commissions were now restricted, waiting for the arrival of fresh recruits to bolster their ranks at the newly established forts. This afforded the soldiers ample time to mourn their losses. However, y/n, on the other hand, seized this opportunity to drown her sorrows in alcohol.
