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There's no pinpointing when Nancy Turner lost most of her sanity, there's no date, no location, no recognition that she's becoming something like a myth among the ranks of the US and foreign militaries. She likes to think she has her control in check, that she can take a step back, take a deep breath, and enter the battle with a clean mind. She can do those things, but certain situations change the tide and then she's bloodthirsty, growling and snarling like a hellhound, her teeth white and glistening against the dark paint and grim coating her face as her lips curl upwards into a devilish grin as she takes the life of an enemy soldier. It's a scary sight, a sight her own fellow soldiers flinch away from, never understanding how a man– later, when her identity is known, a woman– can be so inhumane.
It's a low bar they set, and after the discovery of something far more hellish and inhumane later during the Second World War, it seems Nancy Turner is a saint. Just like her beloved brother, Joseph Turner, a man who gets loyalty just from breathing, his personality caring and hopeful. It's a contrast, their different mindsets and personalities, but how these two siblings can be glued to the hip and shout out the same orders and agree on almost anything is something that is admirable and envious to their fellow officers and enlisted men.
Her relationship with the men she holds full responsibility over is something that speaks familiarity, yet in a bordering way, like she's afraid to completely walk over that invisible line. She cares deeply for her men, she ensures their safety and wellbeing, but she doesn't take shit from anyone. She's serious, she's matured from a young age, she likes a job more than well done. The men hold different opinions for their lieutenant, but in the end, they can agree that they are extremely grateful for an understanding leader and are willing to bend backwards for the older Turner sibling. Nothing could change how they feel for Nancy, because as long as she's a great leader, they'll be great followers.
04 January 1943
Second Lieutenant Nancy Turner raced towards the trenches where heavy gunfire was coming from, avoiding the orders her high ranking officer was giving out. She grew too sick of seeing her men dropping dead, of wails for their mother's and for anyone to save them. To go home. She couldn't handle it anymore.
"Goddamit Turner!" She hears the exasperated voice of fellow second lieutenant William Pierson behind her, but ignores her best friend and continues running through the battle, somehow not getting blown apart to pieces or shot at. She jumps into the trench and shoots a German soldier, a Private her brain supplies, in the face. The kid's face was full of fear, and she's glad he dropped dead on that face. Too young to be fighting this war. She can't handle it.
She hears a set of footsteps and looks up to see Pierson had followed her. He jumps down beside her and she gives him a small smirk, her face not showing an ounce of apology and he rolls his eyes before nodding at her to take the lead. They take down the machine gunners, and before they can be killed with one shot by a sniper, Joseph jumps down on the hidden soldier and stabs him through his jugular. He gives them a nod and Pierson sends orders for the others to come through, and Nancy feels the thrill of getting an advancement of this mission, of knowing they are a step closer to that promised R&R.
"These trenches hold everything. Look around for any intel." Their captain orders and the troops split up in trios, cautious as they peek around every corner and jab every body laying on the ground, making sure the enemy is truly dead. Nancy advances ahead of her team, spotting an old little square table barely standing with an unlit gaslamp and some papers on it. She's careful to step over the corpse of a seemingly dead soldier, frowning at how eerie the atmosphere became. She glances behind her and sees Pierson and Joseph looking into a small dug-in hideout, before returning her attention back to the table of grabbing the papers. She reads through them, squinting at the words and cursing at her German being so rusty. She couldn't speak the language, but reading it was a bit easier, however she never had time to read reports. The higher ups found that she fit better training and taking care of the men. Not that she's complaining, she hates paperwork.
She translates a sentence and her eyes widen, turning around only to grunt out in pain and her wide eyes to grow wider, if possible, when she comes face to face with the kraut she thought was dead. A knife embedded in her side, she growls and punches the German, yelping when the hand twists the knife and she struggles to grab her handgun, the air knocked out of her when she's slammed onto the ground. The knife is removed and she is quick to react when the enemy goes to slam it into her heart, groaning as her arms shake but she keeps the knife's tip a mere two inches away from her. She makes a move to slam her knee into the guy's crotch area when he moves and cuts her arm.
"Fuck!" She isn't sure who yelled it out, just that a shot rang out and the German rolled off her, her eyes watching as Pierson punched the bastard and Joseph hurriedly taking out a medkit and applying pressure to her stab wound on her abdomen.
"Medic!" Her brother screams, his eyes wide and teary and she frowns, lifting a shaky hand and cupping his face.
"Don't cry, Joe..." she mumbles, her eyes feeling heavy until something sharp is injected in her leg and a rush of relief washes over her. "Damn...morphine."
Pierson chuckles at her words, a noise so stained and she won't ever tell a soul that the day she was stabbed, William Pierson was crying. A medic rushes over and goes to cut open her blouse when she freezes and instinctively bats his hands away, eyes wide as she looks at Joseph who finally realizes the situation.
"You have to," his voice is shaky, and she shakes her head. "Please...please, I can't lose you over this!"
Pierson says something, and the medic is trying to rip open her blouse, and as much as Nancy just wants to try standing up and laughing off the issue, she knows she's going to die. She needs help.
"Okay, okay." She drops her hands and lets the medic do his job, watching for his and Pierson's reactions when the blouse is pushed open and her undershirt is slightly cut to address the wound, but two lumps noticeable despite the tight binding wrapped around her chest. The medic says nothing but reassuring words to her and Joseph, ordering someone to call for a stretcher and to alert the aid station. Pierson's eyes are wide as he stares at her, quiet for a minute until the medic practically cusses him out and he starts to call for help. Soldiers flock over from the commotion and Nancy groans, either from pain or from her racing thoughts as she prepares for anything that is going to be thrown her way. Her secret is out. She's a woman.
Captain Williams races over and he looks surprised for a second before his face becomes blank.
The medic eases her on the stretcher and Joseph follows them as they take her to a jeep, murmurs rising from the crowd and Nancy sighs, only to be surprised when a soldier rushes over and gives her a small, hopeful, smile.
"You'll be back soon, Lieutenant." He says softly and a whole chorus of similar, all positive, responses come from her men. She smiles, her heart swelling and she waits for Pierson, and her heart, something she tries to turn into stone, melts when he gives her a charming smile.
"Don't die on us today."
She gives him a mock salute, a grin tracing her lips. "You boys can't get rid of me that easily."
It's true, her last words to her company for two weeks, before she “escaped” the aid station and was handed a medal for her brave actions. Captain Williams gives her a speech, his tone the same and he smiles and shakes her hand, pats her shoulder, and tells her that she's the best leader he has ever seen. They need her. Her gender means nothing to them, because she has proven herself to be capable as any other man.
When she returns to her company, her men flock around her like puppies and ask questions, never showing any negativity towards her. They treated her the same, and that's all she could ask for. There is some teasing ("Hey Troy, guess you aren't a queer afterall!" "Shut the fuck up, Jackson!") but it's all good hearted and she laughs alongside them.
"So, since you're no longer Nathan, and it's going to be confusing calling out Turner when there's two of ya. So what's your name?" Pierson asks that night she returns, and the soldiers look eager. She smiles, feeling a bit bashful under Pierson's stare.
"Nancy. Nancy Turner."
"Calm down, Nance." Joseph watched his sister pace the small space of his office, eyeing the bandages wrapped around her arms, legs, and torso. He didn't escape unscathed from the battle, physically and mentally, and neither did his older sister. But the rage present on her face, the way her body was almost rigid as she walked, the angered grumbles under her breath: someone was going to die. And that person is William Pierson.
The man himself should be arriving any second from the infirmary, and Joseph has to be the bearer of bad news. He wishes Nancy could do his job, she would be perfect with her current state of hellish anger. He also wishes Pierson doesn't show up, because he has a nagging feeling shit is about to go down.
He's right, the moment Pierson walks in, Nancy lets out a frightening growl and punches him square in the face, a crack noise pulling a flinch out of Joseph. Pierson's head snaps back, his eyes closed, but when he opens them, there's so much emotion. In the blink of an eye, it's gone and he punches Nancy back. She jumps on him and they tumble to the ground, throwing hands and curses and Joseph can't stand it anymore.
"Stop it, both of you!" He orders, his voice loud and firm and Nancy huffs, shoving Pierson once more before standing up and wiping the blood from her nose and lip. Pierson gets on his feet, glaring at her and Joseph knows the friendship between them is over. It's heartbreaking to watch.
"This is all your fault! Our men are dead, William, because of you! You're fucking lucky I don't put a bullet between your goddamn eyes right now!" Nancy screams, and something in Pierson deflates but only Joseph notices.
"Pierson, you've been demoted to Technical Sergeant." He says it quickly, avoiding eye contact with his friend. Pierson doesn't say anything, he salutes and when Joseph returns it, he leaves his office, slamming the door on his way out. Nancy slumps into the chair in front of his desk, running her hands through her hair and Joseph wraps a comforting arm around her. It's that one gesture that has her releasing the emotions she's locked up for so long, her sobs echoing the office, her wails for the men she lost, the boys barely 21 years old. She can't handle it anymore.
That night, Nancy Turner became a different person. And the rumors began to spread.
She promised herself to not get close to another company, but months before the big mission, Operation Overlord, she found herself as her brother's second in command officer for 1st Platoon of the 16th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division. She kept a blank expression throughout basic training for the new soldiers, she wanted to be mean and she didn't want to care. But the boys under her command wormed their way into her stone cold heart and she didn't keep her promise to herself. In the future, she's going to be grateful.
Leading the platoon with Joseph and Pierson, they got through the hard parts of the war after D-Day. She got along with her company, especially one private, Robert Zussman. She knew she had to get Ronald "Red" Daniels back home, to his wife (and later, his son.) She didn't want to give Frank Aiello another reason to be cautious of her, because he fought alongside her and the others in Kasserine, and he lost so much there. She knew Drew Stiles had a big future in front of him, and she wanted him to be successful in life. These boys became more than brothers in arms, more than friends. She felt this parental pull towards them, and so did Joseph. These were her kids, and she wasn't going to fail them.
But the war seemed to like to play with her, taunt her, mock her, make her hurt in the worst ways possible.
Her only hope, her guiding light, her baby brother, is dead.
Joseph Turner is dead.
And they fucking promoted her to captain and commanding officer of 1st Platoon. The rumors continue to spread.
What if she punched a Major in the face? No one is going to dare report it.
She and Pierson are losing it. Maybe her moreso, because Pierson seems to take a step back after Zussman is captured. She screams, cries, gets into fights, gets so drunk she doesn't wake up for two days, she finds anything to give the brass a reason to take her off the line. They didn't, they couldn't afford to lose her. They let her do whatever, and it only made her more mad.
They capture some Germans shortly after Zussman is captured, and Nancy does the interrogation for the Intelligence Officer. The Germans speak quickly, and no one says anything with how bad in shape they look. The rumors are like a wildfire.
("Hey, did you hear?" "Hear what?" "The Captain gutted the German POWs like fish, man. Full on fucking torture. Something that'll only happen in hell, man." "Our Captain? No...")
("I heard that after Kasserine, Captain Turner went on a full rampage against anyone. Supposedly she killed some German POWs and even a few Sergeants who mocked her. The Army truly lets her get away with anything." "Hey, Hunter?" "Yeah, Aiello?" "Shut your trap, dumbass.")
When they rescued Zussman, the boys saw the light come back to her eyes. They watched with awe as Zussman tried making a small joke and made her laugh, something so bright and rare. She tried staying by his side, but they still had orders, and Colonel Davis wasn't happy with them nearly going AWOL. But he understood the situation, and either demoted or scolded them.
(Nancy was glad that one time for others letting her have her way.)
When the war in Europe ended, Nancy thought she was done. She thought she couldn't handle any more loss. But something ate at her, thoughts that screamed too loud and her heart ached. Did she have a home in the states to go back to? Her parents are dead, her brother is dead, her boys are going their own ways to forget the war, and Pierson is staying in the Army.
She reenlisted because she has nothing else to lose. Or so she thought.
"Are you done yet?" Pierson gives her a look, and she pauses from her writing and glances up at him.
"What?" She tilts her head, eyes narrowing when the man rolls his eyes.
"Are you done torturing yourself? When are you going to retire?"
Nancy huffs, resuming her writing. "When the war is over, Will."
"That's what you said almost six years ago." Pierson sits across from her, and she's about to call him a hypocrite when Robert Zussman walks in. The fact that this man, a former POW who went through literal hell, could jump up after almost a year of medical attention and bed rest and reenlist, claiming his job isn't over and attending medical training to become a medic, is something admirable but unbelievable. But it's Robert Zussman they're talking about, the kid doesn't know when to quit. Unfortunately, just like her and Pierson. She blames her husband for that.
"Major, the latest casualty report." He gently places a file on her desk, and she catches sight of his red stained hands. Pierson looks at him, hooking a hand on the medic's elbow.
"When was the last time you slept, Sergeant?" He asks, and Zussman winces, avoiding eye contact with them.
"I'm fine, sir."
Nancy snorts, ignoring the look Pierson sends her way. Who knew he would have become the sensible one?
"Fine my ass, Doc. Go get some warm food and rest, that's an order."
"Nance, I'm fine." Zussman grinds out and she finally looks up at him and frowns, because the kid looks like shit. Dark bags under his tired eyes, his pale skin dirty, his uniform looking big on his form and Nancy knew that warm food wasn't going to be something Zussman can find. Their rations were low and getting at least a minute of shut eye was a reprieve.
"There's no warmth anywhere here," Pierson says after a long moment of silence. "Our men are getting picked off, when are we going to be pulled off the line?"
"I'm trying, okay? The brass doesn't think this shit is important. We aren't important." Nancy scowls and the two men flinch at her tone, going quiet as they watch her write the report. Zussman pats Pierson on the back before leaving, and after a few minutes, the older man follows him out of the small office with holes in the walls, letting in the minus 20 degrees weather.
When the Korean War is over, and the three are sent home, Nancy is overcome with guilt. Did she make the right choices? After serving for 25 years, was it all worth it in the end? Some of the rumors are true, but was she really the monster her men used to describe her as?
"Nance, you okay?" William asks one night, 12 years later, as she listens to the radio. She looks over at him, a photo in her shaky hands. He sees that it's a photo of 1st Platoon, during one of their reunions.
"They called me in for leadership training." She whispers, and William's eyes widen, disbelief crossing over his features.
"What? No, no you're done with the Army."
"The war is going to be hard–"
He cuts her off, "All wars are fucking hard, Nancy! Can't they call up someone younger? Someone who is not a two time war veteran? Haven't you done enough for these bastards?!"
She shakes her head, refusing to let the tears fall. "I don't think I can escape this. I think the Army has always been my fate, y'know. I joined when I was 17, under the disguise of a male. Went through the ranks, got to serve alongside my brothers, fought in the bloodiest war of history with him and some crazy bastard." At that, Pierson gave a stained smile. "I thought we were gonna head to the Pacific, ended up doing Career work. Then Korea starts, and we're digging shitty foxhole in minus 30 weather, shitty covers and uniforms and our guys picked off like fucking sheep. We come home, only for this to start? I mean, the boys are fucking fine. Drew is fucking famous, who knew Frank could be some top notch chef, Ronald is living the country dream with his kids and wife, and Robbie is almost done with school to be a nurse."
"Nance, please don't go."
"If I don't, and more men die, I don't think I can live with the burden."
While Nancy saw combat five times, and nearly died twice, her experience in Vietnam wasn't as bad. She was in charge of officers, and her rank from over a decade ago as a Lieutenant Colonel changed to Major General, a little promotion to ensure she stayed. She couldn't give two fucks about being promoted, she was only there to ensure no more men died.
But they did, and the guilt only weighed down her shoulders more.
She left a year before the US withdrew its troops from Vietnam, and the news made her angry. Why lie? Why try? What was the purpose of serving? To live with fear, guilt, anger, hate, depression, anxiety, hopelessness, nightmares, shock–
But she's reminded of her boys. The men she served with. The ones that come to reunions and thank her. Without the Army, where would she have ended up? No friends, probably not married, or unhappily unmarried, and losing her brother a world apart and not seeing his death. His death provided some closure, because she's sure she would've killed herself if she was some civilian and got news her baby brother was killed in God knows where Europe.
She wasn't going to buy into the fear anymore. She isn't going to let her mind rage war. She's going to live the rest of her life happily, reading the books her husband writes, watching the children of her boys, eating the God sent food from some fancy restaurant, reading and viewing photographs and the arts of journalism, and having the honor to have a son as a doctor. It was all worth it in the end.
Nancy Turner may have lost a lot, but she never completely lost her sanity. That's why you can't pinpoint.