TDTLBU Chapter Sixty-Two

Katie yanked off her cap the moment she stepped out into the late October sunshine, breathing deep in the fresh air. It was one of the last few beautiful days of fall and she tried so hard to enjoy every moment of it she could. The work could be so depressing at times. But she managed to keep her spirits up… singing and smiling. Flinging open curtains and letting the sun shine in. 

And for now, the work was easier. Fewer wounded were coming in now. She was taking time to get to know the patients better and it was fascinating. So many different kinds of people from so many different walks of life. English, French, American, Canadian. Some were farmers, some business men, some carpenters, electricians, plumbers, mechanics, radio operators, waiters… she had even met an acrobat and a lion tamer. One had been an eye doctor who, tragically and ironically, had been blinded by shrapnel. Another was a heart surgeon whose hands had been nearly crippled. But he had made a fine recovery and would one day be able to return to his practice.

“Let’s see,” Katie muttered to herself as she glanced at her watch. “One fifteen. That gives me only forty-five minutes. Rats. Not nearly long enough.” She sighed as she strode rapidly across the green, scanning the wide brick walk that ran around it. He was waiting for her, as he had promised, standing under the oak trees. She picked up her pace to hurry towards him, calling out his name.

“Lintie! Ach, ye're a sicht fer sair een, lassie," he met her halfway, catching her hands in his. His eyes were sparkling and his smile bright and somehow, that made her heart ten times lighter.

"Haud yer wheesht, laddie," Katie shot back, grinning. "Aye, an I told ye t'speak English!"

"Seems I underestimated you," Mac whistled in surprise.

"Yeah, don't you ever underestimate me," Katie laughed. "How’s the leg?”

“Well, which one exactly? The leg or the not-so-leg?”

“The not-so-leg, I suppose," she shrugged. "Keeping up on those exercises?”

“I’ve been busy. But I try.”

“Well. I’ll have to test you on that…” Katie turned to survey the open space around them. There were people everywhere… no helping that… but it didn’t matter. She was hit with a sudden inspiration… an Emma-like inspiration… and she grinned up at Mac. 

“Race you.”

And she was off, running as fast as she could, not caring that her braid was already falling free of its pins. As for her hat, it was long-gone. She had dropped it somewhere in the grass. Mac was running after her, slowly at first, but gaining speed and confidence. She turned, running backwards a few steps to alternately call out encouragement and to laugh at him. She realized then that she shouldn’t have stalled, because he had already caught up. She put on a burst of speed, but he snatched her up, lifting her off her feet as she struggled in protest.

“C’mon, give it up, Lintie. You’ve got to admit that I beat you.”

“It was a case of the tortoise and the hare,” she retorted, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “Now you’ve got to go back and find all my hairpins. That’ll be good for you too, getting down and up again, over and over.”

“In all this grass?” Mac made a face as he set her back on her feet. “I’ll walk you to the hospital store and buy you a new pack of hairpins.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” she grinned, slipping her arm through his. “If you promise to buy me a chocolate bar too. A girl needs extra energy after all that exercise.”

“You’ll have to buy me one back,” he laughed. “After all, ‘twas you who forced me to do the runnin’, not the other way around.”

“Fair enough. You buy me a dime chocolate bar, I’ll buy you a nickel chocolate bar. Or perhaps I could find a few spare D-rations lying around.”

“Say no more, woman, or I’ll puke everywhere.”

“Do that and I’ll put you straight back into the hospital.”

He glanced at her in admiration as she slipped her arm through his. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and shining. And she was smiling. To be sure, she always smiled, but not like this. Almost never like this. It only flashed out every once in a while... a rare and beautiful smile that was truly, truly happy. And it made his heart glad to see it.

✯✯✯

October 22nd, 1944

This week we won a battle. It was a long one, though not the worst I’ve seen. We’re all glad it’s over. I'm not even going to say anything about what or where or they'll chop my letter up, but it feels a relief to write the word "victory". Sometimes I feel that the end is very, very close.

At long last, too, we get to leave front lines. We're in camp now, for the first time in forever. So you can stop worrying about me for a while. Josh too. I've got him firmly in tow and am doing my best to restrain him from causing any more trouble. Sandy is practically about to kill him so I have to keep a close eye on the both of them.

I heard the news about John and Lissie. Give them my best wishes. Glad they were able to straighten everything out. John’s got much better luck than I ever had or will have.

It's been a long time. It's all so long ago and far away… lifetimes ago and worlds away. It's hard sometimes to even think of home. I feel like I've changed now after all this and I wonder if I'd ever be able to fit back into my old life. Seems impossible, the thought of being just a farmer again and not having to worry about leading units into battle. I can't see anything in my future but war.

I wonder sometimes if that's all because I'm not meant to have a future beyond this war. Maybe this is all God had in mind for me after all… to give my life for this cause. If so and if I don't make it home in the end, know how very much I love you all and please don't cry for me. It will be as God wills.

Pray for peace. The world can't stand much more of this. And neither can I.

Ronnie dropped his pencil with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t send this. His mother would likely burst into tears. He read over the letter again, shook his head, and crumpled it in his fist. Tomorrow, maybe, he would try to write it again. It was late and he knew he would need sleep. Switching off his flashlight and shoving it into his bag, he lay back in the darkness and stared at the canvas ceiling above him.

Here am I. Send me.

His words from so long ago… echoes of another man who had also given everything to follow the call… suddenly ran once again through his mind. Flashes of the past rose before his eyes, tracing the path of destiny throughout all those long years of fighting. The landing in North Africa, the terror of Kasserine, the icy march across the Italian mountains, the bloody struggle on Omaha beach… so many, many battles. Victories and losses, tears and heartbreak, even some laughter and smiles in the midst of it all. He sighed again. The war had been going on for a long, long time. And now it seemed as if the end was in sight. He couldn’t tell what the future would bring… but he could feel the end nearing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden and unexpected sound. At first it sounded far away and then it seemed very close. He sat up quickly, straining to hear. It sounded like a baby crying. Fumbling through his pack, he found his flashlight and switched it on again.

“Who’s there?”

“Shhh, my little one, my shefela.” It was a woman’s voice. Soft and tender… the voice of a mother comforting her child.

“Who’s out there?” Ronnie demanded, trying to pull on his boots in the darkness. He was alone in the tent, strange that the voice should seem to be coming from right beside him. In another moment, he was outside. He could still hear the voice of the baby and now the soft lullaby of the mother. But the voices were growing quieter… echoing… fading away. He shivered, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. There really was no one there.

“My brother…”

“Where are you?” Ronnie whirled at the sound of the new voice, seeming to come from close behind him. It was the voice of a man… a young man, still a boy, really. The voice was tired, filled with pain.

“My brother…” the voice was barely a hoarse whisper. “He’s dying… help him, please…”

No one. There was absolutely no one standing out there. He thought of searching the tents around him, but the voices hadn’t come from any of them. For a moment, it was silent… and then he heard the voice of the woman again. She spoke softly, the trace of a German accent in her words.

“I’m praying for you… praying… praying… praying…” that one word echoed through the night and faded away into silence.

“What is it, Lord?” Ronnie whispered, falling to his knees. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Greater love hath no man than this…”

The night hours dragged on and all around him, men slept, weary from the battle. But Ronnie knelt there hour after hour in silence, praying for strength, for guidance, for courage to face whatever was coming. Somehow he knew that the battle he was about to face would be harder than any he had ever been through before.