by Helen Wells
“Mutton’s better’n nuttin’. Can we have a nice mock-chicken salad or sandwiches, or something? And coffee?”
“You bet,” the Mess Officer promised. “I’ll disguise that mutton so its own mother wouldn’t recognize it. I’ll get you a wedding cake baked, too. We’ll have the reception in Officers’ Mess hall. If you nurses and pilots don’t get any lunch today, blame it on Cupid.”
They thanked him fervently, and sped off to plead for—and win—the satiny new sheet. Back to the barracks, Cherry and Maggie flew with their treasure. Then off to the chapel, to see what could be done there. Cherry gratefully found the Flight One nurses already making the chapel festive with garlands of glossy dark rhododendron leaves. Flight One had even pressed their pilots into service as a corps of ushers.
“Gosh!” said Cherry in awe-struck tones. “Even in the Army, Ann’s going to have a real church wedding! Who’s going to give the bride away?”
“I am!” said Major Thorne. The plump smiling Flight Surgeon was right in back of her. “We’re going to use the groom’s college class ring for the ceremony.”
Captain Betty Ryan said excitedly, “I’m going to play the wedding march on the organ. And Ann’s technician is going to sing Abide With Me. And I’ve sent the news to the Army newspapers, too!”
Cherry learned what else these, and several other, higher-ranking officers were contributing to the cause of romance. Jack and Ann were to have twenty-four hours off, for a honeymoon, come blitz, come battles, come anything. The Brigadier-General commanding this base would move out of his cottage for twenty-four hours and lend it to the honeymooners. The General’s aide, a major, not to be outdone, had dispatched a corporal in search of delicacies, wine, and flowers for the honeymoon dinner à deux.
Suddenly Cherry remembered Muriel. Their mascot must be present! She hastily telephoned Mrs. Jaynes. Yes, the obliging neighbor would bring the little girl over this afternoon, in her prettiest dress.
There was a last-minute scramble to find the traditional “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Ann’s own shoes, a new pair of Cherry’s stockings, Gwen’s Christmas combs, and a pair of blue garters, solved that.
Cherry was completely out of breath as noon approached, but she remembered one more thing. The masculine contingent had to be made presentable. “ ‘Snails and nails and puppy dogs’ tails,’ ” she muttered laughingly to herself. She knew too well her brother Charlie’s life-long reluctance to dress up—and Bunce’s tendency not to comb his hair. Wade, too, needed an occasional prod. Stopping at the flight technicians’ barracks, Cherry sent a soldier in to get Bunce.
“H’lo, Miss Cherry!” the lanky boy grinned at her happily. “Isn’t it swell about Miss Ann? I’m goin’ to be there with bells on! All us technicians, especially her own corpsman. We’ll all be there!”
“Bunce Smith,” Cherry said sternly, “comb your hair, scrub your face, shine your shoes, and throw away that chewing gum.”
“Pooh, you don’t scare me! But all right, I sure will look pretty.”
Cherry crossed the field and threw pebbles at Wade’s window in the pilots’ barracks. When Wade stuck his head out, she repeated similiar instructions.
Wade looked aggrieved. “You know what I’m doing this very minute? I’m pressing my best uniform, you bully! Anything I can do to help?”
“No thank you. G’bye.”
He said, “Wait—I have news,” and slammed the window shut. He came racing out, took her arm, and walked her along the path under the old trees.
“Cherry, my transfer came through! And the bomber I’m getting—a brand-new B-17, a honey—she’s on the field and getting your picture painted on her. Right now!”
Cherry gulped. She really was touched. “That’s a wonderful compliment, Wade. I’m honestly glad that you’re getting your heart’s desire.”
“No more fuming now,” Wade grinned. “No more inaction.”
Cherry gasped. “So you call what we’ve been doing ’inaction’? Wade Cooper, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you!”
Wade’s brown face crinkled. He blurted out, “I was sort of hoping you’d get used to me. You know, Cherry, I’m pretty fond of you. And I’ve heard tell that nurses make the best wives and mothers.”
Cherry trembled a little, but strolled on at his side calmly enough. “Oh, Ann’s wedding is just making you feel romantic.”
“No, I’m serious. Doesn’t sound like it because I have to say it fast. Fast—we’re in the Army and we haven’t much time.”
“Wade, dear, that’s just it: we’re in the Army. In the Army, you think you fall in love, when you’re only homesick, I guess. Let’s not fall in love. Not in the Army. Because soon you’ll be transferred, and I may be transferred if—uh—well, or we’ll move, or—and if we were in love, it would be tougher.”
Wade strode along slowly with his head bent. “Sure, love in a combat zone is a bad gamble. All right, we’ll skip it. Guess I was a little hasty.”
’Why, Captain, you know your heart doesn’t belong to me, but to that B-17!”
Cherry looked affectionately at this tall, sinewy young man, tanned by the wind and sun of high skies. It had been a happy time, working with Wade Cooper. He was, beneath his cool breath-taking nerve, beneath his ready humor, a touchingly sweet, gentle and simple person.
Cherry said, “Wade, now that we’re going off in different directions, I want to ask you a very, very, very serious question! Did you honestly fly in China and Russia and Africa and all those places you said? Or were those just tall tales to make the boys feel better? Tell the truth.”
“Sure I did!” Wade said. “Why did you find that so hard to believe? What’s so remarkable about a record like that? Now you tell me something—about Mark Grainger.”
Cherry cleared that up for him—omitting to mention that her own Army standing still hung in the balance.
“So everything is settled? That’s fine.” Wade started to whistle One Meat Ball. Cherry knew he was happy.
They went on to lunch. The meal was a snatch-grab. No one cared: all the nurses and pilots were too excited about Ann’s wedding. It was only two hours off now. In the midst of the happy confusion, Gwen wormed her way over to Cherry with a big package and a message.
“Gosh, Cherry, the Flight Surgeon sent word that the Brigadier-General himself wants to see you right after the wedding ceremony!”
She shoved the package into Cherry’s arms. Cherry stood there petrified. Here came her troubles—and at such a moment!
“Aren’t you going to open it?” The girls crowded around.
“Oh. Of course.”
It was from Charlie—a perfectly beautiful flowered silk dress that he had picked up heavens knew where. There was a note enclosed. “Happy Birthday,” he wrote, “a little late.” Cherry cheered up immensely. Blessings on her brother!
Just then, Muriel arrived with Mrs. Jaynes. The child looked so happy and untroubled, and so doll-like in a little pink dress, that Cherry’s heart contracted.
“Am I going to be married?” Muriel inquired.
“Not today, dear,” Cherry explained. “You’re going to help Ann get married.”
“I’d rather help you.”
“Well, you can help me get ready in my very best uniform!”
Ann’s wedding went off with great beauty and dignity. Ushers seated the nurses in the garlanded pews on one side of the chapel, the pilots on the other side, the corpsmen behind their nurses. Everyone wore full military regalia. The organ pealed forth and filled the chapel with music. Jack stood waiting with the chaplain at the flower-decked altar.
Then Ann came slowly down the aisle, on the Major’s arm. Everyone turned. Tears started to Cherry’s eyes. She had never seen Ann look so beautiful nor so moved, as she did in her trailing, white gown, walking slowly toward Jack. They had waited for each other for nearly three years, Cherry remembered.
The music faded, ceased.
&nbs
p; Cherry heard the low voice of the chaplain, reciting the wedding service. Then his questions, and she heard the even lower responses of the bridal couple as they stood before the altar.
“I, Ann Evans, take thee, John Powell …”
“. . . to love, honor, and cherish…”
“. . . till death do us part.”
“. . . till death do us part,” Ann echoed.
And then the chaplain’s pronouncement, and Ann in Jack’s arms, and it was over! Everybody laughed and talked, and poured out of the pews to wish them happiness.
They all followed the happy bride and groom out of the chapel, and trooped over to mess hall for the reception. Cherry was in back of Ann, holding up her train, when she sharply recalled that she had an appointment to see the Brigadier-General! Now! She felt almost sick. She went on happily to the hall, though, with the rest, planning to slip away unnoticed. Only Gwen knew something was up.
There was no need to slip away. The Brigadier-General himself had come to congratulate Lieutenant and the very new Mrs. Powell. It was a real honor to have this busy and important man present. When he told Ann and Jack how happy he was about this, the first marriage at his base, he sounded as if he genuinely meant it.
In fact, this soldierly elderly man was enjoying himself among the young wedding guests. Since he showed no signs of leaving, Cherry wondered when she was to report to his office. Finally, she reluctantly went over to ask Major Thorne and Captain Betty Ryan, who were standing together. She had to face it sooner or later.
Major Thorne’s eyes twinkled. “The General will see you. Just stay awhile at the party yourself. But first, Captain Ryan has an order for you.”
Captain Betty Ryan, to Cherry’s consternation, looked troubled. The trim small Chief Nurse had to clear her throat uncomfortably before she could bring herself to speak. Finally she said:
“Lieutenant Ames, I’m awfully sorry to have to tell you this. You’ve been a good flight nurse—an excellent one, in fact. I’m sorry to have to lose you.”
“I expected this, ma’am,” Cherry said. Her heart was like lead. A fine ending!
“Well, that makes it a bit easier to tell you.” The Chief Nurse looked relieved. “After all, you can at least be proud of your work record. You’ve flown almost every day, except for rest periods. You’ve flown five combat missions, and that’s a lot.”
Cherry said miserably, “Captain Ryan, don’t try to soften it. I know I’m in disgrace for breaking regulations.”
“Disgrace? What are you talking about?” smiled Captain Ryan.
“Breaking what regulations?” Major Thorne demanded.
Cherry told them how she had picked up an unidentified civilian in a combat area and flown him back to England.
“Oh.” Major Thorne said dryly. “You’ll be hearing more about that particular flight from the General.”
“That’s just what I’m afraid of, sir,” Cherry said.
“May I finish what I was saying?” Captain Betty Ryan continued briskly, “As I said, you have made quite enough flights for awhile, even for a nurse in good physical condition. But that hospital report on you—” She shook her head. “Did you realize you have a badly strained back and also show signs of dangerous fatigue? I am sorry, my dear, but I must herewith order you home.”
“Oh no!” Cherry wailed. “Please, Captain!”
Major Thorne said gently, “Your orders are to go home and catch up on your sleep, my girl.”
Cherry was heartbroken.
“Maybe this will console you,” Captain Ryan said. “You’re to fly your mission home in a C-54, attending the wounded. Aren’t you excited? From Prestwick to Newfoundland to New York. You’ll be in New York day after tomorrow!”
Cherry gave a faint shriek. “Please, ma’am, when—when do I start for Prestwick?”
“Tomorrow at dawn.”
“But it’s five o’clock in the afternoon now! Oh, Major, Captain, I want to go on being a flight nurse,” Cherry pleaded. “I’ve trained—I have experience—”
“But you’re worn out,” Major Thorne reminded her. “Don’t feel badly, Lieutenant. There are few young women who can stand up under the gruelling strain of combat flight nursing for very long periods at a time. You’ve done well. You were just unlucky to have strained your back.”
Cherry mumbled, “Yes, sir, but—but can’t I go on being an Army nurse?”
“Certainly you can. But no more combat nursing for you. That means you can transfer into Army nursing within the United States. In the camps—or in the reconditioning hospitals for our wounded—”
“I’d like to go on helping our wounded soldiers, sir.”
“Well, you can! You’re badly needed at home.”
Captain Ryan teased, “Aren’t you really, deep down, just a little glad that you’ll be home again?”
Cherry supposed she was, after she sat down alone in a corner and thought over things. The wedding party went on gaily all around her, while she tried to digest the news. Home! It meant she would see Hilton and her family again, very soon. She would wear the dress Charlie had just sent her—she might even see her adored brother. He would be the flier of the family now. Well, maybe one flier in a family was enough. Her mother would be relieved. And Midge—she mustn’t forget Midge, who was—incredibly—sixteen and a half now and almost a Cadet nurse. And Dr. Joe! Now she could tell Dr. Joe in person what Mrs. Eldredge’s mysterious worry was, and that it was all ironed out. Home in an American Army hospital, perhaps to treat the very same soldiers whom she had rescued and first sent on their way to America.
“Why are you sitting in a corner all by yourself?”
“And looking so glum?”
Gwen and Wade stood before her.
Cherry sighed and looked up. “I have my orders home.”
“What! I don’t believe it!”
“But you haven’t christened The Cherry yet!”
“Flight Three!” Gwen summoned their own little group. Aggie and Elsie and Maggie hurried over, the bride too. “Cherry is going home!” Gwen announced.
They were speechless, then all chattered at once. Cherry smiled at them regretfully—they six had enjoyed a unique friendship. The Army was too full of goodbyes. Bunce was at her side now, too choked up to talk. Wade was not talking either, just tightly clasping her hand.
“You’d think I was dead,” Cherry giggled. “I’m only going home. I’ll see you kids again.”
Suddenly the Brigadier-General’s aide called out, “Atten-tion!”
The whole room fell sharply silent and everyone snapped to stiff attention.
“Will Lieutenant Cherry Ames please step forward?”
Cherry went up to the General in a daze and saluted. She stood there waiting.
The General took from his aide a typewritten paper. He looked at Cherry and to her utter surprise, read this citation:
“For distinguishing herself by meritorious achievement while participating in an aerial flight, to Lieutenant Cherry Ames, the United States Air Medal. Her professional skill, courage, and high sense of service reflects great credit upon herself and the Armed Forces of the United States.”
The Brigadier-General then pinned the medal on Cherry’s jacket. He smiled at her proudly as he did so. Cherry smiled back with enormous happiness and relief. A citation! The Air Medal! She was going home in triumph.
She was so happy and stunned she barely heard the applause of her friends and comrades, and the surge of their congratulations. Ann and Gwen kissed her. She held them both close for an instant. Then Bunce was pumping her hand—and Muriel was begging to wear a medal, too, and offering Cherry her cherished Lilac to take home—when Wade whisked the whole party out to the field to see his new bomber, just ferried in.
The ground crew rolled the mighty bomber out of the hangar. Painted on her fuselage was a bright-colored likeness of Cherry. Her name was painted, too, in big, bold, bright red letters! Beaming, Cherry broke a bottle of pop on a machine gun in
its nose, and pronounced:
“I christen you The Cherry—and see that you bring the flyers safely home!”
In the general gaiety, Cherry slipped off from Ann and Jack and Gwen, from little Muriel who held Wade’s hand on one side and Bunce’s on the other. She walked by herself into the gathering dusk. The roar of bombers swelled over her head. Now she was leaving the sound of fighting planes; saying good-bye to these serene trees and this ancient, stalwart British island; putting an end to the teas before Mrs. Eldredge’s fire. No more, this gypsy existence of flight and danger and mystery. For the last time, she had flown over England, lying on her stomach by the window, watching their plane’s moon shadow, tagging along over the hills below.
How happy she had been here, being partners with Wade, and with Bunce to help her! How deeply satisfying to bring suffering men back to safety and care! What exciting times she had had on this thoroughly remarkable little island!
Cherry turned to the west, where the sun was sinking and home lay. Before a rosy brick ivy-covered building, the American flag was fluttering down at day’s end. Cherry watched her flag, and thought:
“Home! I’m going home! I’m not really leaving the Army. I’ll just be starting afresh—at home!”
CHERRY AMES NURSE STORIES
CHERRY AMES
PRIVATE DUTY NURSE
By
HELEN WELLS
Copyright © 1946 by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Copyright © renewed 2007 by Harriet Schulman Forman
Springer Publishing Company, LLC
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