Kitty's War

by Barbara Whitaker

  She waited impatiently for the hospital personnel to decide if she could see Milton. Why should it be so much fuss? After all, she was his sister, and she was in the Army, too.

  As she paced, she told herself that they were busy with so many wounded from the fighting in Normandy. The place had an air of bustling activity, mostly medical, so not much time for social niceties.

  Finally, an orderly came to get her. He led her down a long corridor and up three flights of stairs. Halfway down another corridor, they stopped at a double doorway.

  “Wait here, Sergeant.”

  She nodded, wrung her hands, tried to calm her labored breathing, not from the stairs but from the excitement. She didn’t know what to expect.

  Images of her grandfather lying in a hospital bed sent her heart pounding. She’d been twelve, and her father reluctantly agreed she could accompany the family on a visit with his ailing father. He was supposedly better, well enough for the family visit. She remembered how her mother had pushed her forward, forced her to give the old man a hug. He’d smelled of antiseptic and something she imagined was decay. Only moments later, as the older man chastised his son for some infraction, his face had turned red, his eyes had bulged, and he’d clutched his chest. She’d watched him die, so suddenly that no one thought to push her away.

  Her mother had become hysterical. Her father turned white and stood speechless. It was Milton who had pulled her away, but not before she heard her uncle ranting at the nurses. He cursed and accused them of causing his father’s death. Raved at their incompetence while aids dragged him from the room. She’d sat in the hallway and waited for what seemed like hours with Milton and Suzanne.

  Now she stood here, in another hospital hallway, waiting, dreading what waited just inside, fighting back the tears and panic.

  The orderly opened the door and motioned for her to come in. He pointed her toward a nurse and left.

  Kitty forced a smile. “I’m here to see Sergeant Greenlee, Milton Greenlee. He’s my brother.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky to the nurse as it did to her.

  “I’ll take you to him, but first”—she smiled in that sympathetic way they have when they are trying to prepare you for bad news—“you must be prepared. He doesn’t look like you remember him.”

  Kitty’s anxiety must have shown on her face because the woman placed her hand on Kitty’s arm.

  “He’s been through a lot…his wounds, surgery. He is in pain, but we cannot give him pain killer due to the head injury. Do you understand?”

  Kitty shook her head. “Head injury? What happened to him? Will he be okay?”

  “In time. It will take time for his injuries to heal. It will take longer for his psyche to recover.”

  Kitty turned her head and searched the rows of beds. Which one was he?

  The nurse took her arm and led her slowly. “You can only stay a few minutes. He’s weak.” They passed beds on either side. “Be cheerful. Positive. He needs to believe he will recover.” She stopped abruptly. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes. I think so,” Kitty assured her. But inside she wasn’t so sure. She was terrified.

  They resumed their slow walk, until they stopped at the foot of a bed. Kitty searched the bandaged head for some reminder of Milton’s face. Only one eye, a cheek, a mouth, and part of a chin were visible.

  The nurse stepped closer and leaned down. “Sergeant, you have a visitor, and a mighty pretty one, I might add.”

  Kitty stepped closer. Her whole body shook. She had to get hold of herself, for Milton.

  “Hi!” She smiled brightly. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me.”

  No sign of recognition. He stared out into nothingness.

  The nurse stepped back and motioned for her to come closer. When she did, she heard a low, moaning sound.

  God help me, she prayed.

  Leaning down as the nurse had done, Kitty spoke more softly. “What’s my big brother gone and done now?”

  His eye blinked.

  “Got yourself in a mess, I see.”

  Blinked again. Now he seemed to see her. Maybe he recognized her voice.

  “Here I flew all the way here to see you, and you don’t even give me a smile.”

  His lips moved. He tried to speak, but nothing but a moan came out.

  The nurse, standing beside her, said, “Give him a sip of water.”

  Kitty glanced at the small table beside the bed. She picked up the glass half-filled with water and guided the glass straw to his lips.

  “Take a sip. Just a little one.”

  His one eye bore into her as he pursed his chapped lips around the straw and drew in a few drops of water. When he released it, his tongue pushed the straw aside.

  “Katherine,” he whispered. His lips barely moved.

  “Yes, it’s me.” She blinked back tears. “I had to come check on my big brother.”

  “Really messed up.” He tried to roll his head to one side, but the bandages didn’t allow for much movement.

  “No. You’re going to be okay.” She drew in a breath to fight the choking in her throat and willed herself not to cry. “You’re alive. That’s what counts.”

  He stared at her face with his one eye. She could see the pain, the desperation, the fear.

  “It’s gonna take a while for you to recover. But you’ll be fine. Good as new. You’ll see.” She sounded lame, but she took another deep breath and continued. “I was so worried about you. but now…now that I’ve seen you with my own eyes, well, I know you will be okay.”

  She touched his arm, then noticed the IV bag hanging above it, its tube attached to his arm. Bandages wrapped around his shoulder and across his midsection. Purple and yellow bruises swirled across his chest and disappeared beneath white gauze. His left arm, encased in plaster, stuck out at an angle, elbow bent, fingers barely visible.

  He moved, raised his right arm ever so slightly. His face winced in pain. She grasped the hand he held out. It was cold and clammy, but it grasped tightly.

  She squeezed it.

  Her cheeks quivered as she forced another smile. “You’ll be all right,” she whispered. “You just have to be.”

  He closed his eye. His breath caught. He opened it again.

  She thought her heart would explode in her chest. She bent down and kissed his cheek, hoping he didn’t see the tear that escaped her hold. She wanted to throw her arms around him and squeeze him so tight. Like she’d done only a few weeks ago. But there was no way to do that with his injuries. So she squeezed his hand again.

  When she straightened up, she forced herself to think. Talk to him. Be positive.

  “You remember General Lake. Well, I explained everything to him, and he was very nice about it. He even arranged for a plane to fly me here.”

  She thought she could see a bit of a smile so she continued. “The boys were really very nice. I mean, they had to fly a training mission anyway, so they didn’t mind flying here.”

  He licked his lips.

  She grabbed the glass again. “Do you want some more water?”

  This time he opened his mouth before the straw got to him, and he took a good strong sip. She set the glass back on the table.

  “Tell the folks…” he whispered. “I…I’m sorry.”

  He closed his eye and frowned. She couldn’t tell if he was in physical pain or struggling with expressing his thoughts.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were wounded…but you survived. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Didn’t mean to…get so messed up.” She could hear the struggle in him. She didn’t understand it, but she knew her brother well enough to know something was eating at him.

  She rubbed his arm, still holding his hand. “It’s okay.”

  His eye roved to the ceiling. He was far away. Was he back there? In the battle when he got wounded? She wouldn’t ask. Much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t.

  She saw the nurse approaching out of the corner of
her eye. She’d tired him out. They would make her leave.

  “Milton”—she leaned down close so he could hear her—“Milton, that nice nurse is going to make me leave. I don’t want to go, but you need to rest.”

  He opened his eye and tried to smile.

  She kissed his cheek again. “I love you.” The tears welled up again. “You rest now, so you can get well.”

  The nurse tapped her shoulder, and she nodded.

  “I’ll come back,” she whispered before standing upright. She squeezed his hand one more time before laying it gently on the bed.

  She hurried away, not looking back. At the door she stopped and waited for the nurse.

  “Do you know what happened to him?” She blurted out the question while swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.

  The nurse eyed her sternly. Kitty wondered if she would violate some rule by telling her about his injuries.

  “It looks like shrapnel to me. Some type of explosion, probably. We don’t ever know what happened exactly.”

  “Thank you.” Kitty looked down at her hands, unsure what to do next. “I’ll come back…tomorrow.”

  ****

  The old mattress creaked when she rolled over. She couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Milton kept her awake, kept her brain racing.

  How could she tell her parents? What would she tell them? That he’s alive? That he would never be the same? Or would he? The nurse said he’d recover, in time. But what did recover mean?

  She searched her mind for memories of him before, when they were kids and she had followed him around. The apologetic way he’d look at her when he had to tell her to go home, like he felt sorry for her, and if it was just him, she could come along. Other times he did let her tag along to town to get something for Mother, to the drug store for ice cream sodas, to the creek to catch crawdads. Sometimes he took her into the woods just to walk and explore.

  When she turned fourteen, he took her hunting, but she didn’t shoot anything. Later, he taught her to shoot, cans and bottles and a home-made bull’s-eye. He told her he was proud of her when she hit the target. Her chest had swelled up with pride. He’d smiled at her and she knew he loved her, even if no one else did.

  He even stuck up for her when their sisters made fun or criticized. Olivia, especially, disliked her and called her all sorts of names. It was hard to share a room with a younger sister who hated you, for no apparent reason except you had gotten there before her. Suzanne, on the other hand, simply ignored her, wanted nothing to do with Katherine until she needed something done, like ironing her clothes, putting her wardrobe in order, or creating hand-made cards for her many girlfriends. Even when Katherine had gone to help with the baby, Suzanne had bossed her around like a servant.

  But it was her mother’s frown of disapproval that hurt the worst. No matter what she did, it wasn’t good enough for her mother. She couldn’t sew to meet her mother’s standards, couldn’t cook without burning something, couldn’t act like the lady Mother expected her to be.

  Father only shook his head and ignored her or remarked how she was just like his hated mother-in-law. Kitty would never understand why he disliked Grandmother Kerr so much. Milton said she did something in the past that turned Father against her. And since Katherine favored her maternal grandmother, had the same unruly hair, the same gray eyes, when her father looked at her he saw Grandmother Kerr and got mad. It wasn’t fair, but that’s how her father was.

  She sat up in the bed and wondered what time it was. She turned on the lamp and found her watch on the bedside table. Two a.m. Too early to get up. She switched off the light and stretched out on the creaky bed, knowing she wouldn’t sleep.

  The image of Milton’s bandaged head came to her again. His one eye, his cracked lips, his cold, distant stare. He hadn’t even looked like Milton.

  She had to go back. She promised. She’d go sit by his bed, if they’d let her. She’d talk to him about back home or maybe she’d read to him. Did they have any books or magazines in that hospital? Maybe she could buy some. She had a little money she’d saved back.

  Unable to sleep, at four she got up, bathed, and washed her hair. She’d learned that it took a long time for her hair to dry in the damp English weather. Fortunately, her room had a window that faced the waterfront. Sitting there, letting her hair dry in the breeze, she took a pencil and started drawing on a scrap of paper. She’d taken up drawing as a lonely child in search of something to pass the time. At odd times she’d take it up again, despite the fact she wasn’t very good. It gave her a way to express herself.

  Milton’s bandaged face appeared on the paper. The rough likeness stared back at her. He looked so alone and helpless.

  And what had he said. She struggled to remember. He was sorry. Why? For being wounded? For being alive? Or had he seen how upset she was and apologized for upsetting her? That was more like Milton. Dear, sweet Milton, who’d always protected her, encouraged her.

  He was the only one in the family who had encouraged her to join the WAC. She wanted to help the war effort. He was in the army, so she wanted to be, too.

  Now she wondered if she had done the right thing. Maybe she should have stayed home. Taught school. Read about all this in the papers.

  The tears started again. She didn’t try to stop them. It was all right here where no one would see. She could let herself wallow in self-pity. Wallow in her stupidity, her failure, her inability to face her brother again, see him like that.

  But she’d promised, so she had to go back. Had to put on her best smile and tell him he would be okay. But would he? Would she?

  Would she be able to go on? Go back and take dictation from General Lake? Go back and face the casualty reports now she knew the pain of having someone you loved injured so badly? Did she have what it took to be a soldier…in a war?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Kitty sat in the hotel lobby drawing on the pad she purchased at the little bookstore a few blocks away. The small section of street visible through the window gradually appeared on the paper, keeping her mind focused on the page rather than on the silent telephone.

  The operator had said to wait. She had not said how long. Surely she would call back if the call couldn’t go through. Surely the long wait meant something good, meant he would be there when the telephone rang.

  Her hands began to shake again, so she stopped and looked at her work. Not much of a subject. Old buildings facing a narrow cobblestone street. It could have been a scene from Charles Dickens or Jane Austen. Sometimes she felt like she had gone back in time into some story she’d read. Only she hadn’t and this wasn’t a story. It was real.

  The telephone jangled. She dropped her pencil. It jangled again. For a moment she froze in place, afraid…afraid it was him, and afraid it wasn’t.

  “Hello.” She spoke loud and clear into the mouthpiece.

  “Miss Greenlee?” the woman’s voice echoed in her ear. “Your call to Lieutenant Kruger has come through.”

  Kitty let out a breath, then nodded. “Yes. Good.” Her hands shook so that she almost dropped her bag trying to open it. She reached inside and grabbed a fist full of coins.

  The voice told her how much to put in.

  She forced her brain to think about the coins spread out in front of her. The crazy English money, shillings, pence, ha-pence. One after another she slipped the coins into the slots until the voice said “Go ahead.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hello,” Ted sounded odd, like he was shouting from down in a well.

  “Ted, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

  “Aughhh!” The despair flooded out of her.

  “Kitty?”

  “It’s Milton. He’s wounded. I’m at the hospital. Oh, Ted, it’s awful.”

  After an empty silence, his voice came through the receiver firm and gentle. “He’s alive. That’s what’s important.”

  “I know, I know.” She paused, unable to speak. She g
asped for air, hoping she wouldn’t start crying. “I just had to tell someone.” Her breath hitched again. “Someone who knows him.”

  “I’m glad you called me. You scared me to death, you know.”

  “I’m sorry. Just sitting here, by myself, I had to talk to someone.”

  “Is he conscious? Can he talk to you?”

  “Yes, he can talk a little. He asked about you.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “Not really. The nurse says it looks like an explosion.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sob. “It was a battle, in Normandy. Lots of explosions.”

  “Yes. I can only imagine.” His voice was soothing, calming.

  “What will I tell my parents? His eye. I think he’s lost his eye. And his head. All bandaged. Don’t know how bad.”

  “You tell them he’s alive. And coming home.”

  “Yes. They are sending him to another hospital. Tomorrow, I think.”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “Two, no, three days. They don’t let me stay very long.”

  “I can’t get away, or I’d come, too.”

  A sob escaped. She wanted to see him. Wanted his familiar smile. Wanted to feel his arms around her. She didn’t want to break down, didn’t want to cry.

  “When do you have to be back?”

  She forced herself to think. “General Lake gave me a week. I’d have to think when…”

  “Can you come to Norwich? After they ship Milton out.”

  “Norwich?”

  “It’s not far from my base.”

  It hit her what he was saying. Meet him. In Norwich. After Milton shipped out.

  “You can get there by train. I could meet you.”

  “Yes, I guess I could.”

  “You don’t have to. I just thought we could get together…talk about it. Before you have to go back.”

  “Yes. I’d like that.” A calmness wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

  “There’s a little hotel, The Cumberland. Not far from the train station. Take a room there, and I’ll meet you.”