two restaurants, was a cozy little place where boys would often took their dates to dinner for only a few days’ pay, and where fathers would treat their families once or twice a year.

For Jenna, The Rose was a place she could talk openly, not that she couldn’t back home, but among the costumers she felt she could get an honest opinion on anything she said. John, the cook and owner of The Rose, often chatted with her about her correspondence with Balto while at the same time laughing at his own love life. A short Irishman in his mid-thirties, John O’Brian was always ready with a smile and ‘How’ve you been?’ to cheer anyone up, but especially Jenna. That day seemed no different than all the others as Jenna arrived at The Rose to begin her shift.

“Well, Miss Parker,” came a voice from the kitchen, “any word from your love? Is he well?”

Jenna suddenly thought back to earlier that morning. She had forgotten to put her letter in the mailbox. It was still on her nightstand.

“Yes, John,” Jenna replied, nodding to the cook as she finished tying on her small apron, “He’s alive and well.”

“Which is more than you could say for most of the people he met over there, aye?”

Jenna stopped in her tracks. In all the time Balto had been gone, she had not once imagined, even for a second, that he would kill anyone. She tried to picture him leveling his rifle at a German soldier and pulling the trigger. Tried, but couldn’t.

“Jenna? What do you think?” John asked, mindful of her silence.

“Yeah,” Jenna said softly, “I guess you could say that.”

20 December, 1944

Something wasn’t right. Balto could sense it, almost smell it, in the air. In less than two days, the entire division had been moved from Paris to Bastogne, a remote town somewhere in Belgium. Though the sky was clear and a full moon hung among the stars the night before, their convoy of over 300 trucks rolled with its headlights on, a very risky endeavor. If the Luftwaffe had decided to show up, we would have been sitting ducks, Balto thought, but the fog means they can’t send any planes up. He thought for a moment and sighed, But neither can we.

Just two short weeks ago, Easy Company had finally had time to regroup and relax behind the front lines. Then the Germans had smashed through the Ardennes forest and beaten the American armies there into submission and retreat. The 101st had been sent forward again, and after days of bitter fighting through Noville, they reached the town of Bastogne.

Now, he struggled against frostbite to dig himself a foxhole among the trees outside of Bastogne, facing the nearest town, Foy. Digging into the snowy ground was harder than anything he had ever done before. More than the snow and ice on top of it, the dirt itself seemed to be frozen solid. Once the hole was dug, Balto set his shovel down and withdrew a small hatchet from the pack he carried and began hacking off the branches of a nearby tree. The bark and branches fell quickly under his blows, and he soon had a suitable cover for his foxhole. Exhausted, he sank into his hole and leaned his rifle beside him. After covering half of the hole, he reached into his inner coat pocket and withdrew an envelope sent from Spring Falls, Virginia. As he opened the letter, he noticed it was stained with teardrops.

Dearest Balto,

Has it now been two Christmases since I’ve seen you? The time must seem to fly so fast, but here at home, it drags on as slowly as ever. Please, please, stay safe. Even if I were to see you only for a moment, it would be enough, but I can’t imagine living on without you. You have my heart, my love, my very soul. There is no way that I can fully express to you how much I love and care for you. I look at your picture and wonder if you will be the same on the day you finally return. There is no place I wouldn’t go just to see you. I miss you so much.

All my love,

Jenna

Balto set the letter aside and took off his helmet. Holding it in his hands, Balto gazed upon an old photograph of Jenna fixed under the webbed lining of his helmet. Though the image had begun to fade, he could still sense her amber eyes hidden among the black and white. He found his eyes filling with tears as he stared longingly at her image, and quickly tried to brush them away as one of his squad mates approached him.

“Hey Sergeant, you okay there?” asked a robust tan husky, crouching down near the foxhole.

“Yeah, Tom,” Balto lied, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of one of his best friends.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Tom’s eyes fell on the picture in his sergeant’s helmet.

“What a looker,” he whistled, “You never said you had a girl back home.”

“That’s right,” Balto replied, replacing the helmet on his head, “It’s a bad idea. If you let slip that you’ve got a girl, your men start thinking you’re a softie, and then they walk all over you.”

“Oh,” Tom sighed, “But you know we’d never do anything like that.”

“Just the same, it’s best that we keep this between us,” Balto

“Alright,” Tom replied, turning to walk on, “Colonel Winters says the krauts will be coming today. Do think he’s right?”

“No, Tom, I know he’s right,” Balto replied, “You better get back to your hole.”

“Sure thing Sarge,” Tom said with grin.

Balto slid Jenna’s letter back into his pocket and withdrew another folded sheet of paper. This letter was one he had just been starting when the commanding officer had walked into the movie theatre and informed the division of their deployment. He had quickly folded it and stuffed it into his pocket with Jenna’s letter and had not withdrawn it again until just now.

Dearest Jenna,

Thank you for your unyielding devotion and love. If I never come home, please take comfort in knowing that you were the very best thing that ever happened to me. As I march into harm’s way, your love follows, cradling me in its gentle caring arms. As long as we are one in soul, nothing can tear us apart.

Balto stopped reading. That was as far as he had gotten. For a long moment, he was unsure of what else to write, but suddenly he took out Jenna’s letter again and scanned it for one line that stuck out above everything else: There is no place I wouldn’t go just to see you. Inspiration hit him, and he started to write, using the stock of his rifle as a desk.

I can’t imagine, any greater fear,

Than waking up, without you here,

And though the sun, would still shine on,

My whole world, would all be gone, but not for long.

If I had to run, if I had to crawl,

If I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls

Always know that I would find a way, to get to where you are,

There’s, no place, that far.

It wouldn’t matter, why we’re apart,

The lonely miles, for two stubborn hearts,

And nothing short, of God above,

Could turn me away, from your love,

I need you that much.

If I had to run, if I had to crawl,

If I had to swim a hundred rivers, just to climb a thousand walls,

Always know that I would find a way, to get to where you are,

There’s, no place, that far.

-Balto

As he carefully replaced the letter in his pocket, he became aware of another small package he was carrying in his breast pocket. A small velvet covered box rested in its own pocket. He began to dream of what he would first say to Jenna when…he stopped himself…if he got home.

Suddenly, the air filled with a roaring shriek not unfamiliar to the men of Easy Company, and before the call went out the shells began to land. All at once, fire and dirt burst all around him.

“Cover!” someone shouted, “Cover! Find cover!”

At that moment, Balto spotted a new recruit, a thin red husky by the name of Benjamin Young, if he remembered correctly. Ben was dashing to and fro among the trees in a sort of demented, terrified dance. He would run in one direction until a shell burst in front of him and then turn and run another direction, only to have another shell land in his path. Finally, exhausted and completely terrified, he sank to his knees and covered his head with his hands. Balto heard him reciting the Jewish prayer for the dead.

Balto leapt from his foxhole and quickly dragged the young husky to it. As he was about to follow suit, Balto spotted more figures running frantically among the shell bursts; more recruits. All thoughts of Jenna disappeared, and warrior instinct took over. Snatching up his rifle, he sprinted in their direction and physically dragged two to an empty foxhole. Further off, he noticed three others, and headed toward them. By then, his ears were immensely sore from the roaring explosions, and his nose had begun to bleed from the thunderous concussions. All around him, young men in foxholes called out to him to take cover, but he either didn’t hear them or ignored them. Considering the shells that were continuing to fall throughout the woods, it was probably the former reason.

One of the boys in the foxholes was Tom. He watched with a sense of awe as Balto ran, mostly unscathed, through such a barrage that it seemed impossible to raise one’s head above ground level without being struck. Tom followed his sergeant with his eyes as he dodged each burst and continued toward the three unfortunate ‘troopers. He was now convinced that Balto had the protection of God. No one could go though that and live, he thought.

Balto, meanwhile, was within a stone’s throw of the three recruits when a shell landed a less than two feet from the one on the right. He felt an intense burning in his shoulder and saw a piece of shrapnel wedged in it. He yanked it out and turned to the three recruits. The two on the left were untouched, but the one on the right was face down in the snow and bleeding profusely from his left leg, which had been severed at the knee. Bits of shrapnel had also lodged themselves in the young man’s right ankle and torso.

Though shells continued to fall