I made a right turn and found a large room with about twenty beds spread out in rows. Only about ten were occupied. “I reckon I’m going to see if these people need anything.”
Matthew
An unnatural silence filled my ears once the attack ended. It lasted for only a few moments before the cries for help, the moans, and the screams pierced my consciousness. I ran along the crater-strewn runway, reaching the group of planes, but couldn’t get close because they were all on fire. Bodies littered the earth around them. In a couple of planes, I could make out the forms of bodies in the flame-filled cockpits. My nostrils filled with the acrid smells of gasoline, charred metal, and burning flesh.
My body shook with coughing spasms as I searched the area, looking everywhere for Henry. Another soldier, bloodied but on his feet, joined me in checking for survivors. I felt every wrist I came across for a pulse, checking dog tags when the body was beyond recognition. Some of the injured stumbled around in a daze, and I did my best to help them. We needed a transport to the hospital.
About thirty feet away I saw a truck with the back end blown off. But all four tires were still on it. I sprinted over and climbed into the cab, finding the key in the ignition. I turned it. Nothing happened. Turned it again. Still nothing.
I dropped my head and prayed. Lord, you gotta get this truck cranked. Please help us! Then I tried again, and the engine came to life. Jumping out of the cab, I helped the other soldier load the wounded into the back. But I still hadn’t found Henry, so I went back to the part of the wreckage I hadn’t searched yet.
As I kicked away burning debris, I heard moaning from beneath a pile of rubble a few feet away. The other soldier and I worked to uncover the man below, tossing aside part of a wing, a tire, and a good deal of lumber. When I finally uncovered him, I saw it was Henry, and my heart sank. He was bleeding from nearly every part of his body, and his right calf muscle gaped open.
“He’s alive!” I said. “Let’s get him loaded on the truck and get to the hospital!”
I ripped off my shirt and tied it around his leg to try to staunch the blood flow. We carried him over to the truck and carefully loaded him into the back. Then we climbed into the cab, and I made a beeline for the hospital.
Thankfully, Stotsenburg was only a couple of miles away, but when we arrived, it was in chaos. Bloody, mangled bodies littered the grounds. A medic helped us lift Henry out of the cab and place him on a stretcher on the lawn. I stood over Henry, watching as a young woman nearby examined one patient after another. She worked her way over to us and gave Henry a quick once-over. She gave him a shot of morphine and redressed his leg in gauze.
“Is he going to be all right?” I asked.
She looked up at me with frightened, wide eyes. “I don’t know. We’re doing all we can. He needs surgery.”
She stood and called over to a couple of soldiers toting a man on a stretcher toward the entrance of the hospital. “Hey! This one needs to go to surgery.” One of them, a large man smeared with blood from head to foot, nodded at her. Then she turned to me. “You okay? You need treatment?”
“I’m all right. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes, you can help carry these men to the tents and operating rooms.” She hollered at another soldier standing nearby who looked dazed. “Hey! Sir! Can you help?” He nodded, so she waved him over. “Take this man to the operating room. Just follow those two.”
She turned and pointed at the two soldiers she’d called to before. They were just heading up the front stairs. I bent over Henry and picked up the corners of the stretcher where he lay motionless. The other guy, still looking dazed and a bit frightened, bent over and grabbed the other two corners.
“Ready?” I said.
He nodded and started walking. We carried Henry up the stairs and through the front doors. Broken, bloody bodies lined the hallway. I kept moving, following the two men in front of us. As we turned down another hallway, the smell of burned flesh mixed with the sickening sweet smell of blood hit me full on, turning my stomach.
At last we came to a room busy with a doctor and two nurses working on three patients simultaneously. One of the nurses pointed at the doorway. “Put him in the hall,” she said, barely taking her eyes off her most critical patient. “We’ll get to him as soon as we can.”
We laid Henry on his stretcher on the hallway floor next to another patient. I wondered if there was any way he’d be seen before he bled out. I could only hope the meager dressings would hold. I stuck my head back into the door and spoke to the nurse who’d directed me. “Miss? How long until he can be cared for?”
She handed the doctor an instrument and answered again without looking at me. “We’re overrun. We’re doing the best we can.”
I leaned over Henry and prayed, feeling helpless to do anything else. Fretting over him would accomplish nothing. So I headed back down the hallway and onto the lawn. I carried four more stretchers into the hospital before another nurse stopped me in my tracks.
“What’s your story? You look like you need to get that checked out.”
“Get what checked out?” I asked.
She pointed at my chest, and I looked down. My undershirt was covered in blood. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was my own or that of the men I’d been carrying around. I realized my undershirt had holes in it. And the legs of my pants were ripped to shreds. I could see tiny fragments of metal imbedded in my arms and upper torso.
“I never felt a thing,” I murmured in surprise.
“Come on,” the nurse said. “Let’s get you patched up.”
She led me to a tent where several medics were cleaning out wounds that weren’t life threatening. I waited on a gurney until one was able to carefully pick all the shrapnel out of my body. He rinsed each wound, bandaged me up, and pronounced me “ready for service.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means you should return to Clark. Try and get some rest.”
I thought that was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said to me. Rest? There’d be no rest, no place to lie down, no comfort. Maybe ever again.
Ruby
Joseph and I spent the next thirty minutes walking from bed to bed, speaking with the gentlemen who were recovering from various procedures. Nothing too serious—an appendectomy, a hernia, a couple of broken bones, and some other minor surgeries. All the patients were stable, but I brought them water and fluffed their pillows. What they each wanted most though, was information.
“What’s the latest at Pearl Harbor?”
“Any reports of bombings on Luzon?”
“I’d sure like to show them Nips just what we’re made of.”
We answered what we could, letting them know they’d be taken care of as soon as possible. Every once in a while I glanced over at Joseph as he checked a chart or listened to a patient’s heart. He’d give me a small smile. We weren’t doing much, of course. But it felt better to move, to do some small task that took my mind off Henry.
Natalie and another nurse I didn’t know walked in a bit later. They looked at us with surprise, and Natalie pointed a finger at me. “What are you doing in here?”
I tried to explain. The one I didn’t know seemed sympathetic. But Natalie’s face wrinkled into a frown, and she said she’d have to call her supervisor, Mrs. Fincher.
“Great,” I said. “That’s exactly who I want to speak with.”
She shot a suspicious look over at Joseph. Sending the younger nurse to find Mrs. Fincher, she proceeded to check on the patients as if she thought we’d harmed them in some way. Within a few minutes, the nurse returned, followed by a woman whose appearance suggested she must have been in her fifties, and yet she moved as though she were twenty years younger. I sensed her commanding energy as soon as she entered the room, and I liked her immediately.
“And who might you be?” she asked, approaching me swiftly as if she had a million other things to do.
“I’m Grace Miller,
” I said, extending my hand. “I work as a nurse over at a clinic just north of Binondo. I want to volunteer.”
“You’re American, right?” I nodded, as she looked me over. “Where did you do your training?”
“I haven’t been to nursing school. But I’ve worked with doctors since I was sixteen. I’ve delivered countless babies, assisted in minor surgeries, and—”
“I’m sorry,” she said, cutting me off. “We have protocols and proper procedures here you couldn’t possibly learn in a matter of days. We need experienced nurses, preferably surgical nurses.”
I glanced at Natalie, who had a satisfied glint in her eyes. “Mrs. Fincher,” I said. “I respect your decision. But if things get as bad as it looks like they might, I have a feeling proper procedures will fly right out the window. You’re going to need help. Maybe I haven’t been to nursing school, and maybe I don’t have the book learning you do, but I know I can be of assistance.”
She lowered her chin and peered at me over the rim of her glasses. “You may be right on that count.” Her gaze travelled over to Joseph. “And what about you?”
Jumping into action, he came beside me. “I’m Joseph Grant. I run the clinic where Grace and I work. I have a medical degree from the University of Virginia School of Medicine.”
She studied him closely. “You’re Filipino.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“You speak Tagalog?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head. “There’s no time for formalities here. Come with me, and I’ll see what we can do with the both of you.”
Natalie’s mouth dropped open as Mrs. Fincher turned on her heel and marched out the door. Joseph and I glanced at each other and then ran to catch up with her. She turned down several hallways until we reached what appeared to be a break room. It was smaller than the cafeteria, with light streaming in through the huge windows. Small tables were set up around the room, along with a sofa in the middle.
Mrs. Fincher snapped around to face us. “As you suspected, Miss Miller, things are more serious than we first anticipated. We’ve received word that our military bases north of here are receiving heavy bombardment. Fort Stotsenburg is overrun with casualties from Clark Field. They’re requesting help.”
“I’ll go,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you should let me finish. We’re putting together a team of nurses and doctors to travel in convoy to Fort Stotsenburg in less than hour. We’ll need help to fill their duties here.”
“With all due respect,” I said. “I’d like to go to Stotsenburg.”
Joseph’s hand slid over the top of my shoulder. “Grace, I know you’re worried about Henry, but Stotsenburg’s going to be right in the thick of things. You should stay here where there’s more protection.”
“Mrs. Fincher, are there only going to be military personnel in this convoy?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “There are a few civilian nurses going, some local Filipino nurses.”
“Then I’d like to go too.”
She thought it over for only a few moments. “All right then. Let’s get you some supplies. Dr. Grant, considering your qualifications and ability to speak with the locals, we’d be best served if you could remain here.”
He gave me a sidelong glance. “I’ll do whatever is needed.”
***
While Joseph and I helped load medical supplies into the convoy trucks he tried several times to convince me not to go, but I refused to even consider it. “I have to find Henry,” I said. “And I have to do everything I can to help those boys up there.”
As enlisted men continued shoving the supplies onto the trucks, Joseph grabbed my elbow and pulled me off to the side. “There are going to be plenty of men here who will need tending to as well, you know. There’s already rumors of an invasion force landing in the Lingayen Gulf.” He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “The Japanese are coming. And they are brutal, Grace. They will show no restraint just because you’re a woman. In fact, that seems to increase their brutality. You know what they did to the women in Nanking. I couldn’t stand…If they hurt you…You need to get somewhere safe.”
His concern for me was touching, but I knew what I had to do. “Joseph, you’ve been so kind to me—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head and stepping back. “Don’t start telling me goodbye.”
“I have to go.”
“No, you don’t.”
Behind me, a corpsman announced the bus was leaving. I reached out and took Joseph by the hand. “Listen, I don’t have time to explain everything right now. But…Henry…he isn’t my cousin. He’s my brother. And he’s all I have left in the world. I have to go to him.”
“Your brother? Why would you—”
“I have to go. There’s no time to explain. Please, take care of yourself. Thank you for giving me the chance to work at the clinic.”
I let go of his hand and ran toward the bus. I could hear him calling out to me over the motors of the bus and trucks, but I refused to look back. I jogged up the steps into the bus and made my way toward the back. Glancing around, I spotted Natalie’s disapproving face, and was relieved to see Janine seated across from her. Janine’s eyes widened when she saw me.
“Grace! How did you get on here?”
I took the seat next to her and smiled over at Natalie. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, like she was trying to smile but couldn’t. “I talked to Mrs. Fincher and told her I wanted to go. She said some other civilian nurses were going as well, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“You must be insane,” Natalie said. “Mrs. Fincher practically had to threaten me with a court-martial to get me on here.” She shook her head and turned her gaze out the window. Her face was pale and her eyes looked red, as if she’d been crying.
“I volunteered too,” Janine said, pulling my attention away from Natalie. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I mean, I know how dangerous it is. I…I just…I have to see Henry.”
The bus lurched into motion and wound its way through the streets of Manila. Traffic had only gotten worse since I’d arrived at the hospital that morning, and we made slow progress until we reached the city limits. Toward the front of the bus, more than twenty soldiers kept a watchful eye on the sky, and I couldn’t help but search for Japanese planes myself. But the sky was as clear as any other day in the tropics.
Once we left the city, the convoy was able to cover ground more quickly, so I closed my eyes and prayed for safety. Lord, please be with all the boys who’ve been injured today, both here and at Pearl Harbor. Be close to Henry. Keep him in Your right hand, protecting his body and mind from all the danger surrounding him. Give him the peace of knowing that You are with him always.
I prayed the same thing over and over, until I drifted off to sleep with the rocking of the bus, my forehead pressed against the back of the seat in front of me. I wasn’t sure how long I dozed, but I awoke when the bus jerked to a stop. The driver opened the door and jumped out. Night had fallen, and we’d stopped under a canopy of jungle trees covering the road, so I couldn’t see the sky. Were we under attack?
“Where are we?” I asked Janine, as if she’d know any more than I did.
A serviceman turned around in his seat. “We’re getting close now.”
“Then why are we stopping?” Natalie asked, her voice high and tight.
“Do you smell that?” I asked Janine.
A pungent stench filled the bus. Smoke mixed with other chemical smells—burning rubber, oil, and metal—settled in the air around us. The driver came back onto the bus, and word spread back to us that debris littered the road ahead. As we inched forward, I gazed out the windows at smoldering jeeps, felled trees, and even a large chunk of an airplane. I tried not to imagine Henry in the cockpit of a fiery plane, crashing to the earth.
Since none of the vehicles were traveling with their lights on, we moved at a snail’s pace, heading in the general d
irection of a flickering orange glow ahead. Murmuring filled the bus as we passed Clark Field.
“The place is demolished,” one man said.
Planes and buildings still burned, casting enough light to take in the destruction. Tanks circled the runway, their guns pointed to the moonless sky. To my left, I noticed propellers and tires flung into trees. The bus hit a crater, and Natalie yelped. I grabbed Janine’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure Henry’s all right,” I said, more to myself than to her.
We pulled away from Clark Field and headed into the darkness. Fort Stotsenburg lay a few miles ahead. Murmuring from the passengers turned into concerned questions as the bus slowed to a halt and the driver got to his feet. “Everyone just stay seated and quiet for now, please.”
He climbed out and went to stand in front of the bus, while we sat in uncomfortable silence. When the driver returned, he moved the bus along slowly, dodging craters the size of small ponds along with the debris. He stopped again and repeated the same procedure of standing in front of the bus.
“What’s he doing?” Janine asked.
The medic in front of us turned around again. “The guys up front say we’re having trouble locating the hospital in the dark.”
At that, the driver came back on board, his face stricken. “We’re here. Let’s get the supplies unloaded as soon as we can and get them inside.”
The servicemen let the nurses off the bus first, and we huddled together beside the bus. I couldn’t make out much. There was a hazy smoke around everything, and I couldn’t see more than several feet in front of me. I turned to Janine.
“How do we even know we’re in the right place?” I asked.
She turned her head, searching. “I don’t know.”
“Wait,” said Natalie, her voice breaking. “Listen.”
Horror spread across each woman’s face as we registered the sounds. Wailing, moaning, crying. The sounds of desperate pain came from beyond the haze. That was how the driver knew we were in the right place. He’d followed the screams.
***
Saving Grace: A Novel (Healing Ruby Book 3) Page 6
