“It’s in the Pacific,” I said. “Near Australia.”
“Damn. I’ve heard it’s rough out there,” another woman said, earning me glances of admiration now.
I shrugged. “It was definitely no picnic. Nothing like what you’ve got here. I doubt you get many snakes or rats in your beds.”
There was a squeal of disgust and I laughed.
“What kind of injury?” someone else asked.
“Fractured leg.”
There were a few nods and then they began to introduce themselves. There were seven of them, the rest out on missions, and I tried to remember their names, noting my new bunkmate Hazel didn’t appear to be among them.
They peppered me with more questions and we swapped stories. Worst injury we’d seen so far. Funniest moment. Saddest. After a while, Luella had to get back to the main office and the rest of us wandered outside to our bicycles. We rode back to our fancy barracks and I unpacked while the others popped in to talk and busied themselves tidying, writing letters, reading, or talking quietly among themselves.
When Luella returned after her shift, she found me in one of the sitting rooms.
“They aren’t wasting any time,” she said. “You’re on at oh-five hundred hours tomorrow.”
I grinned, adrenaline racing through my veins.
“Can’t wait.”
12
We landed ina field, the sound of machine gun fire not far off, men rushing around caked in mud, sweat running down their faces, bloodstained and red-eyed.
“This way!” said the medical technician I’d been assigned, pulling my sleeve to get my attention as I took in the scene.
I’d never had a med tech, as he called himself, and certainly had never worked with a man I had rank over. But Theodore didn’t seem to mind it. He’d been on a dozen or so trips to Normandy already and had filled me in on the ride over with how it would go once we landed.
There were tents set up everywhere, men reloading weapons, checking gear, moving supplies here and there as the sun beat down on us, the urgency in the air fraught and trembling around us.
The patients we were bringing back with us were gathered off to the side of a makeshift runway that had been marked off with flags. I made my way through the litters, kneeling beside each man with a gentle smile as I read the piece of paper attached to his uniform or blanket.
They were in bad shape. The wounds fresh and caked with dried blood. Sand and mud dripped from their pockets and was smeared across their faces. It was unsanitary and ripe for infection. We needed to move them. Now.
Keeping out of the way of the men unloading the supplies we’d brought, I boarded the plane again and began attaching the brackets used to hold the litters. It was going to be a full flight and I was glad to have Theodore onboard to help.
“Campbell?”
I turned to see the med tech standing with a worried look on his face.
“Yeah?” I asked, turning back to the brackets.
“We have three prisoners coming back with us.”
“Okay,” I said, not registering what that meant.
“Our boys won’t like that.”
It struck me then what he’d said and I sucked in a breath and turned to look at him with wide eyes.
“Have you flown with prisoners before?” I asked.
“Yes. It can be...” He shrugged. “Our boys don’t like it, as you can probably imagine.”
I blew out a breath. “Will they give us trouble?”
