Sisters in Arms

by Kaia Alderson

  “It has come to my attention that you ladies have been scheming behind my back since your arrival here. You’ve been organizing a telephone campaign, getting all of your mommies, daddies, and whoever else the hell you know to call up the top brass in Washington about what goes on here. That you don’t appreciate being broken off into separate units like it’s been done in the armies across the world for millennia.” He paused. “Well, tough shit.”

  He used the last word to emphasize his disgust. A few of the women gasped their shock at his use of the expletive. Eliza could see Mr. Philips bristle at the word as well.

  “This here is the United States Army. I don’t care if they’ve classified you people as auxiliaries or whatever some busybody up in D.C. wants to call you. At the end of the day, you are under my command, and you’ll do what I say. No. Questions. Asked. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” they all responded in one voice.

  “Good. If you don’t like what we do here, or how we do it, you are free to go down to base HQ and ask to go home. They’ll be more than happy to type you up a dishonorable discharge and send you on your way.”

  Eliza heard Grace, who was standing right across the aisle from her, gulp. Has Grace been thinking about quitting already? Eliza shot her a worried glance. She didn’t like where the lieutenant was going with this. Grace gave her an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Throughout the course of his reprimand, he had been pacing up and down the aisle at the center of the room. But now he stopped just in front of Grace. He turned his head to look directly at her.

  “It also seems we need to have a little chat about fraternization with you ladies. Dating, flirting, and/or associating with persons above or below your rank will not be tolerated. That includes staff members from the War Department who may or may not be enlisted themselves. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

  Eliza watched Grace as she said, “Yes, sir,” right back in his face, loud and clear. That was the moment that Grace became her hero. Eliza smiled at her boldness. But only because the lieutenant’s back was to her.

  “Now, hold on a minute. These are ladies. That’s taking it too far,” Jonathan jumped in.

  “I’m preparing these here soldiers for war. These ladies could wind up dead if I don’t take it far enough,” Rogers growled in return. “So if you do not like my training methods, again I say tough shit. You are free to go at any time. You are not my superior and I do not have to answer to you,” he added in a lower voice, but still audible enough for all of them to hear. “Sir.”

  “Good day to you then.” Jonathan left. There really wasn’t much more he could say to what the lieutenant had said, no matter how dismissive it was.

  “Now, back to you people’s attempts at a mutiny.”

  More gasps went around the room. They might have been new to Army life, but they all knew that accusations of mutiny were not something to be taken lightly.

  “I just want to know who the troublemakers are. Which one of you decided to ring up that meddlesome Bethune person, who then called up the goddamned director of the damn Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps, and brought them to my doorstep? Tell me who that was, and I’ll go easy on the rest of you.”

  Eliza could see Harriet West, who was standing a few bunks down from her, shift as if she were about to step forward. It was no secret that Harriet had worked for Dr. Bethune just prior to joining the corps. No one was going to fault her for calling her old boss. They were all in on the plan together. No, Eliza would not let Harriet take the fall for it all by herself.

  Eliza stepped forward before Harriet could move, despite her tired legs, just as Grace did the same. They both said, “It was me,” at the same time.

  Harriet then got over her shock enough to move. “No, it was me.”

  One by one, everyone else in Third Company stepped forward. A chorus of “me too” followed suit.

  “Oh, so I have a bunch of smart-asses on my hands?” Rogers came and stood between Grace and Eliza. He looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “Then the two of you must have been the ringleaders. Follow me.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

  Rogers began walking toward the exit. Both Grace and Eliza followed as ordered.

  “The rest of y’all will have lights out an hour early. And no more telephone privileges until I goddamn say so.”

  Chapter 12

  GRACE DUG HER shovel deep into the waist-high pile of horse manure. Doing so unleashed a fresh assault on her olfactory system.

  “Jeez, who would’ve thought that it could smell any worse?”

  Grace narrowed her eyes at Eliza’s latest complaint. The two women had basically been joined at the hip for the last week. Not by choice either. Since even before they had gotten on the same train to Des Moines, this woman had been . . . well, there. A constant thorn in her side.

  “Mmph,” she grunted in response. Grace was not interested in engaging the other woman. Actually, she was loath to do anything that required opening her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to have the taste of this stuff on her palate too.

  Eliza stared at her for a moment. When it became obvious that Grace had nothing to add to her grunt, Eliza shrugged and swiped lazily at her pile of dung. Grace frowned, then returned her attention to her own pile with renewed vigor. At this rate, they’d be spending the rest of their Sunday “off” mucking these stalls. This was not at all how she pictured her first week in the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps ending: already on her commanding officer’s bad side and elbow-deep in crap.

  “This really isn’t fair,” Eliza began again a few minutes later. “I’m getting Dr. Bethune back on the phone when we get out of here. I don’t see how these stalls are our responsibility when we’re not even part of the cavalry. The Army guys here barely tolerate our presence. And that’s just for the hint that we’ll be taking over their administrative jobs when we’re done with training. I doubt they’d ever let us ride any of these horses on ‘official Army business.’” Eliza stopped and wrapped her arm around her shovel handle so she could make air quotes with her fingers.

  With this latest round of Eliza’s complaining, Grace stabbed the point of her shovel deep into her pile. She had had enough of this silly girl’s antics. “The way I see it, it was calling up Dr. Bethune the first time that got us into”—Grace swept her arm around the stall like the most practiced of debutantes—“this—this . . . crap.”

  Grace was so annoyed that she forgot where she was and took a deep breath. That was a big mistake. All that got her was a giant mouthful of earthy, ancient dung smell. Grace doubled over in a coughing fit.

  Eliza dropped her shovel, with the handle falling right into her pile, and came running over to Grace. “Oh my goodness, are you okay?”

  Eliza patted Grace’s back. Grace stiffened and gave Eliza a wide, horror-filled side-eye as she gasped for air. She sidestepped out of Eliza’s reach. “I’m fine. Just fine.”

  She removed her gloves, shoving them into her back pocket, before reaching for her canteen. Grace took a long chug of water from the metal container. She coughed a few more times. Then, as unladylike as it was, Grace spit into the dirt near her foot.

  Eliza’s face wrinkled in disgust. She shook it off and moved toward her again, her hand raised and aiming for her back.

  Grace held up her hand. “No. Please. Please don’t touch me again. I’m fine. Really.”

  Eliza froze, her hand still up in the air. “But you—”

  “I’m fine.”

  Eliza flinched at the way Grace ground out the word “fine.” Grace had a momentary twinge of guilt. What is wrong with you? She’s just trying to help.

  Grace cleared her throat and tried again. “Thank you. But I just need a second.”

  Eliza turned back to her work with a pout on her face. “Well, you didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

  This last comment made Grace see red. She straightened. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Gr
ace spied a pitchfork hanging on the far corner from them. It was probably a good thing it was so far away from them right now, for both of their sakes.

  “I said you are being mean. And you have been acting mean to me ever since we met. For no reason, I might add.” Eliza sucked her teeth as she studied her discarded shovel, its handle cushioned by the manure below it. She put her glove back onto her hand. Eliza reached and pinched the wooden pole between her thumb and forefinger. She looked up to the ceiling. “Lord, why does this have to be so disgusting?”

  Grace looked up, mocking her. “Lord, why does she have to be so . . . annoying?”

  Eliza marched toward Grace, her gloved fist now tight around the shovel handle. Her mouth was pulled into a taut line. Her nostrils flared hard with each exhale like an enraged bull’s. When she was close enough, Eliza poked Grace in the chest with her finger. This time Grace’s horror was justified. It was the gloved finger Eliza had used to pluck the shovel handle out of the manure pile.

  “What is your problem with me?” Eliza punctuated each word with additional finger jabs into Grace’s chest. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since we first met in New York. But you . . . you’ve done nothing but give me the cold shoulder and snide remarks in return. As a matter of fact, you’ve been giving the rest of us the ice-queen treatment. It makes no sense. These white Army boys don’t want us here, and a good number of those white WAACs aren’t happy to see us either. We should all be pulling together. We’re all we’ve got here. What is wrong with you?”

  Grace stretched her neck, taking advantage of their height difference to hover over Eliza. Grace took a step forward, purposely walking into Eliza’s still outstretched finger. “Nothing is wrong with me.”

  Eliza gasped in shock, taking a step back. But to her credit, that was the only ground that the shorter woman yielded to Grace. Eliza narrowed her eyes, then pressed a second finger into Grace’s chest, like she was pointing a gun at her. “Then you are delusional on top of being a bitch.”

  They both flinched at Eliza’s use of the curse word. Grace gave her a half grin. “So Miss Moneybags knows how to use naughty words when she wants to?”

  “I grew up in a newsroom.” Eliza shrugged with a one-sided smile of her own. “When I was real little, sometimes the men forgot I was there. I’ve heard every bad word that’s not in the book.”

  “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Well, it’s not like I want to talk like that. But in this case?” Eliza frowned. She gave Grace a side-eyed once-over up and down. “I just call it like I see it.”

  Grace snatched up her shovel and got back to work. “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “Ha!” Eliza sashayed back to her pile. Even though she stomped as she did it, it still looked like she was almost floating with—well, grace—as she did it. How did she manage to pull that off?

  Maybe this girl isn’t so bad after all, Grace mused. She’d still be useless in a fistfight, though.

  “Okay, maybe I have been a bitch. But not without good reason to be.” Grace sighed as she heaved another shovelful. “I wish I had the luxury to pick up the phone and ask Mary McLeod Bethune to get me into the corps. Or had extra money to buy the prettier dresses or to pay for me to go away to school. I didn’t have it easy like you back home. The whole family had to scrape together to get the little something we had. And then I lost . . . I gave up everything to come here.”

  “And you think I didn’t?”

  “Maybe you did. I don’t know. But whatever it is you gave up, I’m pretty sure you can get it back. I’ll never get back what I lost.” Grace felt tears threatening to spill. She blinked them back. “Damn. Have you ever felt like whenever we seem to get one foot forward, the world is determined to push us two feet back?”

  “Yes, girl, every day,” Eliza admitted. “Every single damn day.”

  Eliza drove her shovel deep into the pile this time. With a grunt, she heaved a giant haul into the wheelbarrow. “Now maybe if you’d stop lollygagging and actually put in some work, we can get this done before the sun goes down.”

  “So I’m the one who’s lollygagging now?” Grace’s eyes squinted with a newfound respect for the woman. Not that she would actually tell her about this newfound respect. She turned around and pulled up another shovelful of poop. The muscles in her shoulders burned, but Grace kept at it in a steady pace. She’d heard a rumor in the barracks that there would be a turkey and dressing dinner in the mess hall tonight. There was no way she’d be missing out on that.

  Chapter 13

  Fort Des Moines, Iowa

  July 1942

  (Week Two of OCS)

  PICK UP THE pace, Jones,” Lieutenant Rogers hollered into his bullhorn as he rumbled past her in one of those open-top Army vehicles. “Whoever comes in last has to run an extra mile. Again.”

  His warning was clear. Eliza had been the last one to come in for the past week. She had had to limp out an extra mile every day while the others had been ordered to not help her. They could only watch.

  Prior to training camp, Eliza had thought the hardest thing she had ever done in her life was stand up to her father. She was wrong. Now her shins were on fire. She estimated that she and the rest of the company had already covered the first two miles of this morning’s three-mile run. The rest of the pack looked to be at least a quarter mile ahead of her.

  “C’mon, girl.” Mary, one of the other slower runners in the group, was a few paces ahead of her. “You got this.”

  Mary adjusted her stride to a pace that allowed Eliza to catch up to her.

  “No, you go on. This is my struggle, not yours.”

  “No, E. It’s all of ours. All for one, right?”

  Eliza gnashed her teeth together and pressed on. So far, she had aced all of their other classes: basic commands, the Army and WAAC chains of command, map reading, and first aid. She imagined that she would’ve also aced firearms and munitions had the powers that be allowed them to carry firearms. But when it came to the physical part of the curriculum, Eliza was a complete failure.

  While she had never been the most athletic type, she never considered herself to be the lazy sort either. She would swim at the Harlem Y whenever she could as a child. Granted, that occurred less and less as she grew older. She also had spent a lot of time running after stray balls when she watched the boys play stickball in the street. But those had always been short sprints, never these longer distances that the Army required.

  Eliza slowed her stride as her chest started to burn. She thought the Midwest was supposed to be all wind and flat plains. She never gave a thought to the oppressive summer heat. Had she done so a few weeks ago, she most likely wouldn’t have been so eager to be here now.

  Finally, she stopped. Just for a minute.

  “Are you all right?” Mary was looking back at her over her shoulder.

  “I’m fine. Just need to catch my breath.” Eliza leaned down and rubbed her leg. It started to cramp despite her efforts. “Oh no, not now. Not again.”

  “C’mon. I’ll walk with you.” A shadow loomed over her as someone tugged at her elbow. “The best way to stop a leg cramp is to keep moving.”

  Eliza stood up. To her surprise, the shadow belonged to Grace.

  “Okay,” she said warily as she gingerly took her first step. It had been a week since they had had their come-to-Jesus moment in the horse stalls. Since then, they hadn’t spent much time with each other one-on-one. This wasn’t intentional, more a result of the intense training days that were now their lives.

  Eliza noticed that, while everyone else seemed to be naturally forming bonds with each other, Grace tended to hang back from socializing. She seemed to be more of a loner. On the surface, Grace came off as arrogant, stiff, and a know-it-all. Eliza wouldn’t say that she was shy. More defensive, but that didn’t feel like the right word.

  To Eliza, she seemed more . . . melancholy.

  “You know, Rogers is going to pop an artery when he
sees you helping me.” By now, they had increased their pace to a brisk walk.

  “Yep, he probably will.” Grace continued to look straight ahead. However, she had yet to let go of Eliza’s arm. Eliza tried to pull away gracefully, but Grace’s hand stayed where it was.

  “He’s going to stick you with another gig,” Eliza warned.

  “I imagine so. I hope it’s kitchen prep this time. I prefer peeling potatoes to cleaning out the horse stalls.”

  “Yuck, both sound horrible to me.”

  Grace chuckled. “I imagine they would.”

  By now, the pain in Eliza’s legs had begun to ease. “Well, I’ll be doggone, you were right. Moving my legs does make them feel better.”

  Their conversation was cut short by the rumble of an approaching vehicle. When it stopped right beside them, Rogers jumped out.

  “Steele, what the devil are you doing?” he screamed in Grace’s face. She didn’t flinch, but Eliza sure did. Come to think of it, Rogers spent a lot of time in Grace’s face in particular. Eliza had yet to see Grace flinch.

  “I was helping her.”

  “I didn’t command you to do that.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “See, that’s what your problem is, Steele. There is no room here for ‘yes, but’ or ‘I was just trying to help.’ I bet you’re one of them free spirit types. You always think you’re the exception to the rule.”

  “No, sir, I—”

  “There you go again with some exception, with some excuse. When are you going to get it through your thick skull, soldier? You are not exceptional. I don’t care who you thought you were in the civilian world or who your little boyfriend down in Washington is. Here, you are nothing. Just like everyone else. Now, fall back in line.”

  Eliza watched Grace’s jaw tighten. “Yes, sir.” She saluted him and began to run on ahead. But Eliza could feel the anger radiating from her by her stiff posture.