by Sarah Sundin
27
School of Air Evacuation
October 29, 1943
“I love this system. It’s much better than the aluminum litter brackets.” Georgie unbuckled the web strapping holding the last litter in place, and she and Mellie slipped the litter pole out of the loops.
Two medics took the litter and carried it off the C-47.
“It solves all our problems.” Mellie unhooked a length of strapping from a pole on the floor. “The parts stay on the plane permanently. How many patients did we have to turn away because of lost parts?”
“Too many.” Georgie rolled up strapping so it looked like a snail. “And it weighs next to nothing. The C-47 crewmen will like that, won’t they?”
“Especially since the straps are stored up here. More space for cargo.” Mellie stood on tiptoe and tucked her roll into a canvas bag on the ceiling.
“I can’t wait to use this in the field.”
Mellie shot her a glance, a half-smile. “Is that right?”
“If I pass.” Georgie headed down the aisle. “Let’s see how we did.”
“We did great. You did great. Why on earth wouldn’t you pass?”
“I’ll fail if God wants me to fail, but not because I didn’t try.” Georgie hopped to the ground.
“Excellent job, ladies.” The officer showed them his stopwatch. “All patients unloaded in six minutes, forty-eight seconds.”
Mellie hugged Georgie’s shoulders. “See, I knew you could do it. You’re so speedy.”
Sadness settled like gray fog over her heart. She knew firsthand the necessity of speed in evacuation.
Kay sauntered over, flipped back her strawberry blonde hair, and winked at Georgie. “You’re just trying to make the rest of us look bad.”
“My goal in life.” She returned the wink. This furlough had given her new appreciation for Kay Jobson. Something about the Taylor farm brought out vulnerability beneath the girl’s brass. Last weekend she’d heard sobbing from Kay’s room and Mellie’s soothing voice. She hadn’t stayed to eavesdrop, as much as she wanted to, but something was stirring in the redhead, and Georgie wanted to be ready and available.
She followed the ladies back toward the classroom building, where they’d receive their final marks.
This entire furlough she’d been praying hard. When she prayed, she felt a squirming unease about going home, and a peace and rightness about staying in flight nursing. When she’d talked to Pastor Reeves after service on Sunday, he’d told her to heed the sense of peace.
Too bad the sense of peace didn’t cover telling Ward and her family.
Georgie climbed the steps into the classroom building and sat beside Mellie. The harder she’d worked the past three weeks, the more she caught the passion for flight nursing, and the more she wanted to put this training into practice and aid the sick and wounded. And this might be her last chance to see the world. Mellie made the Pacific islands sound exotic and enticing. England had always intrigued her. And Italy had so many charms.
Not Hutch. The memory of her little crush on him sent a shard of shame into her heart. But she knew the opportunity to see him again didn’t sway her opinion, since he’d return stateside to join the Pharmacy Corps.
“I’m so worried,” one of the new girls said in the seat ahead of Georgie.
Louise Cox patted the girl’s hand. “No need to worry. The hard part is getting in. I heard no one failed in the last class.”
Georgie’s shoulders relaxed too. She wanted to pass, wanted it more than anything. The roughness, the muddiness, the sharpness of life in the field would prod her to keep growing. If she went home, she’d be tempted to settle back onto the pillow of pampering.
“Well . . . ?” Mellie gave her a gentle smile.
What a dear friend Mellie had turned out to be. They complemented each other—in a different way from how she and Rose had complemented each other—but in a very good way.
She looped her arm through Mellie’s. “Remember that stuffed nightingale you and Rose made me?”
Mellie’s smile wobbled, and she blinked. “Mm-hmm.”
“You’re the wings, and I’m the heart. We’ll be backbone for each other.”
“So you . . . ?”
The chief nurse passed out envelopes that would declare their paths.
Georgie held her envelope tight. “I want to pass. Oh Lord, I want to pass.”
93rd Evacuation Hospital, Piana di Caiazzo
October 30, 1943
Lucia shifted on her cot, but she couldn’t roll over with both legs up in traction. Tears wet her cheeks. “Sono invalida.”
“No. No invalida.” Hutch squeezed her hand, but nothing he did or said today cheered up the little girl. How could he convince her she wouldn’t be an invalid when the doctors still didn’t know? Until the casts came off in a few weeks, his promises were vapid.
And how could he lift anyone’s spirits when his lay in the mud?
A new dimension to Phyllis’s betrayal punched a fresh hole in the raw meat of his heart. As an unmarried man, he wouldn’t be allowed to adopt Lucia. Thank goodness he’d never discussed his dream with the child, or Phyllis’s letter would have broken two hearts.
“She’s been restless and depressed today.” Lillian Farley came beside Lucia’s bed and clutched a clipboard to her chest. “Even Signor Ucce isn’t working his magic.”
Hutch managed a wan smile. “Signor Ucce is all out of magic.”
Lillian patted his shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. “You deserve better than that floozy anyway.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I’m not stuck with her. Any woman who can maintain a deception like that for a year and a half, and wave the flag to justify her actions—well, she can’t be trusted.” The more he said it, the more he’d believe it.
And deep down, he did believe it. Being betrayed and duped and humiliated took a big chunk from a man’s pride, but when he peered through his anger, the truth shone through. For months he’d doubted her suitability for him. For months her letters had been a source of irritation rather than joy. He’d seriously considered breaking up with her.
In a way, he was free.
But her decision still caused painful repercussions. Namely with one sad little girl.
What seven-year-old liked being cooped up inside for weeks on end? He trained his ear to the roof of the tent. No rain tapped. “Say, Lieutenant, could I take Lucia outside for a bit?”
“Great idea.” Lillian unhooked the traction apparatus. “A change of scenery would be good for her. She can be off traction for half an hour or so.”
Lucia asked a series of questions in Italian that Hutch couldn’t pick up.
He whipped out his handkerchief and dried her cheeks. “Lucia no invalida. Lucia è ballerina.”
“I no ballerina. I invalida.”
“No more of that talk.” He scooped her up into his arms, the casts weighing as much as she did.
Once outside, Lucia tilted back her head and drew a deep breath. The poor thing hadn’t been in the fresh air since they’d come to Piana di Caiazzo almost a week earlier.
Hutch headed for the edge of the hospital complex. The road wound before them between steep green hills, and patches of blue sky repaired the torn gray fabric overhead.
He bowed his head to the girl. “Balle con mi?”
“Si.” A little smile pushed up her cheeks.
Hutch hummed “The Blue Danube Waltz” and whirled her around. Her braids swung out, and her smile rose. Before long, she waved her free arm in time to the music and giggled. That giggle sounded more beautiful than a full orchestra.
He waltzed her around and around, sang out louder and louder. Lucia was the only girl in his life now. All the nurses were officers and off-limits, so he couldn’t date until he joined the Corps or the war ended. The way the US Fifth and British Eighth Armies plodded their way up Italy, hill by bloody hill, the war wouldn’t be over for years.
Besides, the only woma
n who interested him was thousands of miles away and wouldn’t come back. A shame. Her family’s pampering, on the heels of Rose’s death and her own failure, might set her back.
Hutch dipped Lucia low, bringing up a shriek of delight. What was he thinking anyway? Georgie’s heart belonged to Ward, and she’d never given any indication she was attracted to Hutch. Even if she were, he’d never steal another man’s girl. Besides, she must think him a fool, knowing what happened with Phyllis.
Nope. For the time being, Lucia was his girl. But thanks to Phyllis, that time wouldn’t be long enough.
He swung Lucia in the opposite direction. Lord, please let her walk again. It’s her only hope.
Hutch’s only hope sat on the desk of a florist. The letters of recommendation needed to be mailed by November 1. Two days from now.
He stepped inside the tent where Kaz kept his office. “Good evening, sir.”
Kaz typed away. “Do you need something, Sergeant? I’m busy.”
“I understand, sir. I was wondering if you’d had the opportunity to write the letter of recommendation for me. Monday is the deadline.”
“Letter of recommendation?”
That didn’t sound good. Hutch shifted his weight to his right leg. “Yes, sir. For the Pharmacy Corps.”
Kaz realigned the paper. “I’m busy, and anyway, I can’t in good conscience support such a scheme.”
“Scheme, sir?”
“Yes, scheme.” He smoothed his thin graying brown hair and frowned at Hutch. “You almost had me fooled, but Captain Chadwick enlightened me. Stripping away the rights of physicians indeed.”
“Stripping away . . . ? No, sir. That’s not what it’s about.” What rubbish had Chadwick fed to Kaz?
The officer attacked the typewriter keys. “The whole thing implies that hospitals aren’t doing their job. It’s an insult to the Medical Corps. They know what they’re doing.”
“Yes, sir. They know how to practice medicine, but not pharmacy.”
Kaz tilted his head and gave Hutch a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve seen what you do. Bruno and O’Shea do the same tasks with only three months’ training. It’s silly to slap a commission on something so trivial. It devalues the commissions we officers worked so hard for.”
Hot coals smoldered in his stomach. The commission Kaz worked so hard for? What? In his three months of training? Why did Kaz’s college degree—in business—mean more in a hospital than Hutch’s degree?
Kaz waved toward the doorway. “If you don’t have anything important to ask, you’re dismissed.”
Flaming, destructive words burned in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, even for the required “yes, sir.” He marched outside, his hand pressed over his steaming belly.
All the years he’d aimed for this goal, all the work he’d put in, all the disrespect he’d endured—wasted.
Jerks like Chadwick and Kazokov and Ted Richards wrecked everything he worked for, everything he longed for.
28
Charlottesville
October 30, 1943
Plates and stories and laughter circled the supper table. Mama’s best cooking filled Georgie’s heart with contentment, as did Ward’s cheer and the presence of Freddie, Bertie, and all six of her nieces and nephews. From the way Freddie’s face turned greener than the peas when the vegetable bowl passed, Georgie guessed a seventh grandchild would soon join the table.
Gus’s last furlough from the Navy was in July, if she remembered correctly. He’d root for a son, since Freddie had given him three adorable daughters so far.
Family talk ruled the table—the children’s shenanigans, Gus and Freddie’s grocery in downtown Charlottesville, Carl and Bertie’s crop, Ward’s crop, and Daddy’s newest filly. Georgie hadn’t had a chance to say one word about the School of Air Evacuation, which suited her fine. She’d enjoy the peace while it lasted.
Mama set a gigantic pumpkin pie in front of Daddy and smiled at Georgie. “Enough suspense, sugar. We can’t stand it any longer.”
“Stand what?” Did they want to hear about her final marks? Their faces were far more eager than she would have expected.
Donna Lou, Freddie’s four-year-old, climbed into Georgie’s lap. “Uncle Ward says you have ’citing news.”
“Exciting news?”
Ward draped his arm over the back of her chair and grinned. “I thought it would be fun to tell you in front of your whole family.”
Around the table, faces grew even more eager.
All Mama’s good cooking congealed in her stomach. “Tell me what?”
“It’s all set, baby. Bobby Lang from city hall will meet us after church tomorrow, let us sign for the marriage license. I imagine you have loose ends to tie up with the Army this week, but we can get married next Saturday. Pastor Reeves is avail—”
“Excuse me? You made plans without asking me, without even asking about my deci—”
“Baby.” Ward jiggled her shoulders, and his smile stiffened. “I know you like when plans are settled.”
Mama lowered herself into her chair, her face white. “Georgie, what’s going on?”
She couldn’t look Ward in the eye, so she played with Donna Lou’s plump fingers. “Why would you make plans before you heard how I did at the School of Air Evacuation?”
Bertie gave her a sad smile, overflowing with sympathy. “You got your grades back.”
They thought she failed. They all thought she failed. Georgie sat up straighter and hefted up a smile. “Y’all will be happy to know I had some of the highest marks in my class. The chief nurse was impressed with my performance and said my patients would receive excellent care.”
Silence hovered over the table. Even the children stilled, staring at the adults.
Ward shifted in his chair. “You’re not saying—”
“I am.” She’d made her decision, and now she had to be strong enough to defend it. She stroked Donna Lou’s fair hair. “The five of us asked to stay together and return to the 802nd if possible. I’m willing to go wherever they send me, but they said they’ll try to keep us together after all we’ve been through.”
“After all you’ve been through?” Daddy pushed the pumpkin pie away, his eyes swirling with confusion. “After all you’ve been through, I’d think you’d want to come home where you belong.”
“Where I belong is where God wants me.”
Ward balled up his napkin in his lap. “God wants you at home.”
“After the war, yes. But not right now. I have skills and training, and I want to use them to serve.”
Ward’s cheeks reddened. “Since when has serving at home meant nothing?”
“Oh goodness.” Mama fanned herself with her hand. “I never thought you’d turn headstrong on us.”
Georgie groaned. “Headstrong? Because I made a decision? Nonsense. You and Freddie and Bertie make decisions all the time.”
“That’s different.” Freddie exchanged a knowing glance with Bertie.
“Why?” Steam filled her head. “Because I’m Georgie, and I’m too silly to know my own mind?”
Daddy leaned his forearms on the table. “That’s not what your sister said.”
“It’s what she meant, what y’all believe.” She drew a long breath so she could keep her voice calm and low. “I prayed for wisdom, for God to show me his will. At first I didn’t want to be a flight nurse. I just wanted to be with Rose. But this is where God wants me, and he changed my heart, and now that’s what I want more than anything.”
“More than marrying me?” Ward’s voice came out like gravel.
“I do want to marry you—after the war.”
“After the—” He stood and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Excuse me, folks, but Georgie and I need to have a little discussion in private.”
“Pardon me, sweetie.” Georgie slid Donna Lou off her lap and left the dining room without looking at her family. She followed Ward through the house, across the porch, and down to the s
tables.
Her breath hitched at the sight. The sun had descended behind the Blue Ridge Mountains, and soft purple light bathed the autumn trees, the rolling hills, and the beloved stable. Ward brought her out here, not just for privacy but to show her what she was leaving.
Unwavering. She’d prayed for wisdom and she’d received it.
Ward rested his elbows on the white rail fence around the stable. “I’ve never been so humiliated in all my life. How could you make a decision like that without talking to me?”
Georgie leaned on the fence a good six feet from him and crossed her arms. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“That’s different.” A scowl marred his handsome face. “I made a decision for us. You made a decision for you alone.”
An uneasy feeling blurred the edges of her determination. Had she made the decision for selfish reasons? “For me? No. That’s not true. If I were being selfish, I’d come home.”
He ran one hand through his sandy hair. “What? You think staying home is selfish? That doesn’t make sense. Staying home is smart and right.”
“Not now.”
“Come on, baby. It’s a fine plan. We get married, start a family, and the Army has to let you out. You’ll have fulfilled your duty.”
A sliver of a moon dangled over the horizon, as flimsy as her arguments. “It doesn’t seem right.”
“Of course it’s right. Starting a family is more than right.”
Her sigh disrupted the still air. “Not this way. Not for that purpose. That’d be like Bertie telling Carl in New Guinea to stop taking his Atabrine so he’ll get malaria and come home.”
“That’s silly. Completely different.”
“Is it? Freddie and Bertie miss their husbands. They need their husbands at home. But they’re not demanding Gus and Carl get sick or wounded just to come home.”
Ward’s mouth curled up on one side. “You can’t compare—”
“Why not? Because they’re men and I’m just a woman?”
He pounded his finger on the fence rail so hard the vibrations reached Georgie. “Because your rightful place is at home. You’re abandoning it. It isn’t natural.”
