TDTLBU Chapter Forty-Three

Part Four: Invading Europe (1944)

England

June, 1944

"Within the week, our troops will be landing in France. We have received orders to depart immediately. Finish the necessary preparations. The ship will be leaving at 1300 hours this afternoon.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed the announcement. The nurses and doctors of the 17th Evacuation Hospital stood gathered in the center of the camp, each silently calculating the overwhelming amount of work that would need done in the days to follow. They had been preparing for the invasion of France for months. But now that it had come, they could hardly begin to fathom what they would be facing. 

"Well, I suppose there isn't much else to do now but grab our things and board the ship," Marci grinned half-heartedly as they were dismissed to prepare for leaving. A few short weeks ago they had packed up their camp in England and made the trip to the coast by train. The past several days had been filled with last-minute preparations and stocking the ship full to overflowing with medical supplies.

"Thank goodness all the tents and equipment are loaded already," Sue came up between Marci and Emma, hooking her arms through theirs. "We've had so many false alarms, what with the storms and all."

"Girls, can you believe it's finally here?" Emma spoke incredulously. "I feel like I'm walking in a dream… well, a nightmare, I mean. It's just that…"

"That we've been waiting so long," Marci said softly. "I know. Waiting and training and…"

"And planning and hoping and praying and dreading," Emma finished for her, pulling away from Sue as they reached the bunkhouse. 

"Well girls," Sue threw up her hands in resignation. "It's off with the dresses and on with the battle uniforms. We can do this."

"Yes," Emma lifted her head proudly, her eyes glinting with determination. "We can do this."

But as the transport ship sailed away from England, headed towards Normandy and uncertainty, a feeling of dread settled over the young nurses. They had seen combat before… had served for months in North Africa. But this felt different. And so they did what they did best… hid their fear beneath cheerful smiles, teasing banter, and words of hope. 

✯✯✯

"Do I look as silly as you do?" Marci joined Emma at the deck railing, sticking her thumbs through the belt loops on her olive green pants and hitching up the waist. It had been months since they had been in combat uniform. During their training and rest in England, they had gone back into their standard white ward dresses. They had almost forgotten what it was like to wear men’s jackets and trousers complete with steel helmets, boots, and gaiters.

"Depends." Emma cocked her hat back and struck a pose. "Exactly how silly do I look?"

"Rather dreadful," Marci giggled. "No, I'm kidding." 

"Betcha if I did this…" Emma piled her hair atop her head and smashed her steel helmet on top of it. "I could pass for Ronnie. Except I'm not nearly tall enough. And it isn't fair. Maybe I could pass for Mickey. He must be at least about my height by now…"

"Is your brother in Normandy?"

Marci's question sobered Emma instantly. She sighed, her shoulders falling slightly as she turned back to the railing and folded her arms over it.

"I'm afraid he is," she murmured, staring out to sea as she bent to rest her chin on her arms. "He couldn't ever tell me exactly of course, because the letters are always censored. But I read between the lines."

"You'd think they'd tell us more, now that we're on our way there," Marci leaned against the railing beside her friend. 

"Mmm. All I know is that the Americans are supposed to land on the beaches they call Utah and Omaha. They were supposedly the easier beaches, being apparently less-defended. But the rumors that have been flying around…"

"If there's one thing we should've learned by now, Emma, it's to not listen to rumors." 

The girls lapsed into silence. Emma pulled off the helmet, shaking her hair free, tilting her head back as she felt the brisk sea air blowing through her locks. The waves were lapping quietly at the sides of the ship, the seagulls crying overhead. It all seemed too ridiculously peaceful somehow.

"The calm before a storm," Emma muttered below her breath as Marci piped up again.

"You still have that picture of Ronnie?"

"Course I do. And don't even try, Marci, I know exactly what you're thinking."

"And what's that?" Marci assumed an air of great innocence.

"You little sneak," Emma narrowed her eyes, laughingly. "You've had a crush on him ever since I first showed you his picture. C'mon, admit it!"

"Now if you for one second think I'll even deign to answer such a ridiculous accusation, you've got another think coming."

"Admit it or I'll toss you overboard," Emma stepped forward menacingly, wielding her helmet like a weapon.

"Never!" Marci ducked, laughing, as Emma took a practice swing with the helmet. "Hey, watch where you swing that thing! Touch me and I'll figure out how to tell that Josh of yours that you're madly in love with him!"

"Now who's making ridiculous accusations? I wouldn't dream of falling in love with him! Why, I'm too smart for that! Anyway… there is someone else, you know that."

"Oh yes! That handsome lieutenant, whatever his name is… right?"

"He's asked me to marry him," Emma's voice softened and her eyes grew far away. "Just in his last letter."

"And? What did you say? Do I hear wedding bells?"

"Mm…" Emma shrugged. "I haven't written back yet. I'm still… well… I'm seriously considering saying yes. But…"

"But Josh…" Marci prompted, grinning.

"But nothing," Emma scoffed. "Marci, you're crazy. And… and so is Scout!"

“Well, we’ll see,” Marci giggled, raising her eyebrows in insinuation. But, wisely, she said nothing more.

✯✯✯

"Well, we're on our way," Ronnie spoke matter of factly, his eyes on the sky as if to assess the weather. "How d'you feel?"

Josh was hunched over the railing, his head down.

"I hate boats," he muttered in reply. Ronnie laughed. 

"You should see Sandy. He threw up for five minutes straight and then said he was going below deck to die. Last I checked on him, he was still alive. But barely."

"It's more'n that," Josh's voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "It's that every time I get on a boat, it takes me somewhere I don't wanna go. Dumb, isn't it? I mean… I signed up for this…"

"You did what you had to do," Ronnie crossed his arms on the railing and stared out to sea. "We all did. I don't like it anymore 'n you do."

Josh turned to look at Ronnie and his eyes were dark. They were clouded over with horror and terror. 

"Ronnie, I'm scared," he whispered and something in his voice made the older boy shudder. "I don't know what's gonna happen out there… but I've got an awful feeling about it. Dunno if I'm gonna make it through this time. And I… I'm not ready to die."

"You know what you need to do to fix that," Ronnie tried to smile and failed. "Just pray. God won't let you down. Make your peace with Him before it's too late."

Too late! 

Those fateful words echoed through Josh's soul. He clutched at his heart and swallowed hard.

"I…" he dropped his eyes, his inner being twisted with pain and fear. "I… can't…" Why, he didn't know. It just seemed as if taking that leap of faith was impossible. There was a gap he could no longer reach across and the dark abyss that hung in the middle terrified him. His hands were shaking and he shoved them into his pockets. "I… pray for me… please?"

"I will," Ronnie promised. "I have been. Always." His face changed and he lifted his head. Just before them, barely visible on the horizon, stretched a thin gray strip of sand. 

"That must be it," he murmured, more to himself than to Josh. "Omaha beach. God, be with us."