Mercy Road

by Ann Howard Creel

  He almost smiled. “But you won’t, will you? Tell me and only me. Please don’t mention it to anyone else. How can we know who to trust? And believe me, I’ll keep the name to myself and conduct the most careful and quiet of investigations. If he’s really the one, we can stop him.”

  Incredulous, I asked, “Stop him from providing life-saving tools?”

  “Selling life-saving tools at a high price for profit. There’s a big difference. The men in the trenches don’t have much, if any, money. If the tools have somehow made it here, they should be given to the soldiers.”

  “I understand.”

  “In many ways he’s determining who lives and dies. The men in the trenches have a much better chance of survival if they have those tools. Whoever this man is—he’s giving some men a better shot at making it out of here in one piece and denying others the same chance because they don’t have the money. Arlene, don’t you see? He’s playing God.”

  I made a quick decision; I found it too difficult to refuse Jimmy anything, despite the fact that he’d just split my heart from front to back. He was more interested in what I knew than in me. “Felix Brohammer, a captain with the engineers.”

  Jimmy listened, pondered hard for a moment, and then harrumphed. “That’s perfect. He can move around more than other officers, and he has strong connections to the infantry.”

  “But as you’ve said, there’s no proof.”

  “I’ll work on that.”

  I would work on it, too.

  Jimmy must have read my mind. “I’m saying it again. Don’t do anything. Concentrate on yourself and forget about this. I beg of you: don’t do anything, and tell no one.”

  After a long moment I nodded. But I didn’t mean it. Now that I knew what Brohammer might be up to, I would do everything in my power to make sure he didn’t get away with it. I couldn’t change anything about the daily horrors of this brutal war, but this—exposing a conscienceless profiteer—this I could do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  MEAUX, FRANCE, TO NEUFMOUTIERS-EN-BRIE, FRANCE

  AUGUST 1918

  The front advanced even farther into lands formerly occupied by the Germans, and our wounded arrived from Château-Thierry by train. Despite military and tactical success, the suffering never ceased. The endless river of wounded and maimed kept flowing and swelling and almost drowning us.

  But I had to stay afloat. Work was paramount. The hospital was so overcrowded, now only the most gravely injured were operated on in Meaux, and it became necessary to transfer any other wounded soldiers on to other locations. The ambulance drivers’ work became that of transferring seriously wounded soldiers whose surgeries couldn’t be completed in Meaux.

  It sounded easier, but it wasn’t. Those men deserved the best of care on the spot, but they had to be shuttled away. I tried to make the men I ferried faceless so I wouldn’t remember them, but it never worked.

  One of my passengers once awakened screaming and started beating on the side of the ambulance. I pulled over and scurried around to the back door. Sitting up and blinking wildly, he cried, “J’y vois rien! J’y vois rien!” I can’t see! I can’t see! His face looked burned, but no bandages covered his eyes. Had his eyes suffered burns and no one noticed? The doctors and nurses might have focused on his more obvious abdominal wound.

  I grabbed his outstretched hand and held it for a few moments. “Dear sir,” I said in French, voice cracking. “I’ll get you to help as fast as I can.”

  I relived the faces and expressions of the men I ferried as I lay awake trying to relax. By then I struggled to sleep each night, just as Cass did. I couldn’t think of the eighteen-year-old double amputee crying for his mother, or the man whose face was so badly burned he appeared almost inhuman.

  And now some new awful images haunted me—a man belly-crawling, picking his way through barbed wire, his hands shredded and bleeding, his grip so slippery he can’t fire the gun he holds when a German soldier runs up on him; and a man whose foot is caught in barbed wire in no-man’s-land, struggling but unable to release himself, as there’s nothing to cut the wire, while German bullets fly in. All because they couldn’t buy what they needed.

  Other times I dreamed about Jimmy to push the harrowing memories away. But Jimmy had squeezed all the blood from my heart. I hadn’t seen him or heard from him since that night in the courtyard.

  When Cass and I both lay in bed, sometimes I tried to engage her in conversation. Turning to face her bed right next to mine, I whispered her name, but she pretended to be asleep, even though I felt pretty sure she was awake.

  Eventually I’d succumb to exhaustion but often awaken when Cass gave off a little shout or a deep moan. I awakened her to stop the nightmare, but as time went by, I became more and more concerned that those outbursts came from Cass not while she slept, but while she lay awake.

  In mid-August, Beryl heard from Dr. Logan that the American Women’s Hospital had found a new location and would move to Château-Thierry. Apparently, however, Dr. Logan had left the decision about whether to go or stay here in Meaux in Beryl’s hands.

  She stopped me early the next morning as I leaned over the engine, readying my ambulance for the day ahead. “Prepare to leave tomorrow. We’ll rejoin our team in Neufmoutiers before proceeding to Château-Thierry.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. At that point I felt strongly that Cass needed to go back. I straightened up and said to Beryl, “That must have been a tough decision.”

  “We’re needed everywhere, but we came here because of the AWH. It’s time to go home.”

  Of course by home she meant back to our original team and our original mission. I couldn’t have agreed more, but it didn’t take long for me to think about myself. Once we left, Jimmy would probably have no way to find me. On the other hand, Brohammer knew I’d come to Meaux by way of Neufmoutiers; he had looked for me there before.

  After our last ambulance transfer of the day, I took a walk through the town and headed toward the flamboyant Gothic edifice that was Saint Stephen’s Cathedral. I had to climb its one finished tower, even though I should’ve done it with Jimmy.

  Trudging up the steps, I tried to imagine Jimmy, where he’d moved on to and what he was doing. Most of all, I wanted him safe.

  At the top, the tower windows afforded a magnificent view of where the 1914 Battle of the Ourcq took place, and beyond. In the rarefied air, I stood still, soaking it all in, stunned that I was here and grateful for my life after so many endless days of death.

  Following the loop of the Marne with my eyes, I imagined the days before men had settled here and cleared the land, when nomadic clans roamed it but didn’t disturb it very much, the loamy soil not yet tilled. Someday it might revert to that wild state. The land would always remain, but what of us? What would happen to us?

  That night, I stayed up late composing a letter to Jimmy. I stuck to using a pencil because I kept changing my mind and starting over. He had split me into two pieces, part desire for him and part shame and pain. The pain of being pushed away. Of somehow, someway . . . losing him.

  Never would I forget seeing him, talking to him here. Maybe I was the selfish one now. Jimmy wanted friendship—he’d made that pretty clear—but I had seen more than that in his eyes. I glanced through the window to the stars outside. Jimmy and I had touched the near-impossible in this place, we had touched love among such loss, and I couldn’t bring myself to give up yet.

  In the end, I wrote very little, only that we would return to Neufmoutiers for a short stay but would soon move on to somewhere near Château-Thierry. I left the letter with a French volunteer who had helped us so often in Meaux. She assured me that when American ambulances came, she would ask about Jimmy and do her best to deliver my letter.

  If Jimmy ever wanted to see me again, he would have a map.

  After almost seven weeks in Meaux, we took our leave at the end of August, driving away early in the morning. Beryl rode with me, in the lead. Cass and Dr. Ki
tchens followed behind us, with the nurses in the back of their ambulance. We kept silent. None of us would go back the same person.

  I took one last look over my shoulder back at the compound, and the lump in my throat slid down into my stomach, where it expanded and hurt so much it brought on tears. Meaux would never leave me. I would never forget it. Despite all the horrors I’d witnessed in that place, I’d seen Jimmy for the first time in years there, too. Now I knew what it felt like to want someone. My soul had opened in that place and also emptied.

  I hadn’t spent much time with the doctors during all those days in Meaux. After fighting with myself whether or not to tell Beryl the rumor about the captain selling tools and gloves, I eventually opted to say nothing. What could one of the medical doctors do? Especially those not in the army? And I hadn’t forgotten the last thing Jimmy had said, so urgently: Tell no one.

  After riding in silence for about twenty minutes, Beryl asked, “Are you happy to leave?”

  “In some ways, yes, especially for Cass,” I answered.

  Beryl glanced in my direction. “How is she?”

  “About the same.”

  Leaning forward, she made some adjustments to her collar, then sat back in her seat. She didn’t speak, and all I heard was “Hmmm.”

  Explaining my thoughts further, I said, “She wasn’t in this condition back in Neufmoutiers, so I’m hoping she’ll improve once we return.”

  “We’ll probably see more of what we saw in Meaux when we work in Château-Thierry.”

  “I know,” I said. “But at least we should have a reprieve while we move.”

  “I see your point,” Beryl said. “But do keep a close eye on her, please.”

  “I will,” I said. “What about you? Are you happy to leave?”

  She shrugged. “Exhilarating as it was, we need to get back to our team. Tough decision, though. I also wanted to stay.”

  “How wonderful it must have felt to operate on those soldiers and save their lives.”

  She turned a bit in her seat toward me. “Oh, we didn’t operate.”

  My eyes flew wide open. “What?”

  “Yes, we didn’t operate. We did many other things.”

  Puzzled, I shook my head.

  “We gave emergency, life-saving care. We washed wounds and removed fragments from them. We splinted broken bones and applied sterile dressings, and all of it had to be perfectly executed. No contamination. And bandaged in a way that reduced pain. Without enough surgical tables and operating room equipment, we had to postpone many operations and sent many, many men along to hospitals farther down the line for surgery. You must have driven some of them.”

  “I don’t understand. You were so excited. And all they allowed you to do was splint and bandage?”

  “Don’t discount it. We had to quickly diagnose correctly. Believe me, we might not have operated, but we saved lives.”

  I remembered the conversation with Beryl on the way here and her excitement about finally getting to utilize her skills in the operating room.

  “Besides, what were we to do? Become insulted, turn around, and leave?” She faced forward again. “Not when we could apply our skills in another way, and they’d asked for our help.”

  I simply sat with that for a while. “You must never think of yourself.”

  “Of course I do.” She laughed. “Please don’t sanctify me; otherwise I’ll have to start avoiding you.”

  I smiled. “I’ll admire you in silence, then.”

  She reached over and squeezed my arm. “It’s nice to have a fan, though.”

  How wonderful to talk to Beryl again.

  A few moments later she said, “Once we arrive, be sure to get some rest.”

  “I hope you do as well.”

  Beryl gave off a skeptical look and scoffed. “I’d feel like the devil if I ever rested now.”

  When we pulled up in front of the château in Neufmoutiers, I noticed two new ambulances parked in front of the building. Then Eve—sweet, freckled, girlish Eve—ran out to greet us. You might have thought we’d just returned from a journey around the world. After we stepped out of the ambulances, Eve made rounds to all six of us and gave us hugs, saying, “Welcome back.”

  Eve sported a sunburn over her masses of freckles, and I imagined calmer days here, so much so that she’d had time to sit out in the sun. Her fingernails appeared freshly painted, too.

  Looking elated, she told Cass and me that three new ambulances had arrived from Paris, but one was out in the field. Lottie had gone to pick up the sick in Château-Thierry. Every day, two ambulances, each holding a driver and a doctor, made the trip there.

  Inside the château we found most of the hospital equipment disassembled and prepared for shipment. We kept what we would need for emergency treatments, along with one extra hospital bed. Only a few hospital patients remained. During our absence, dysentery had struck, and the last recovering patients still convalesced. Besides these was a young village boy who’d fallen while playing on a roof and had broken his leg. Soon he would go home.

  During our time away, most of the refugees had returned to the Aisne to harvest the grain not destroyed during the German retreat, and no shells or bombs had landed near the hospital; therefore, the work centered on taking care of sick villagers. The doctors opened dispensaries and a dental office. The pace had slowed in our absence, and I filled with gratitude that I’d helped out during the desperate days, horrific as they had been, in Meaux.

  Cass and I sat down across from Eve and then also Kitty, who emerged from the second floor, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  “Sorry for how I look,” Kitty said as she fluffed her pillow-flattened hair with her fingers and slid onto the seat. Compared to Cass and me, her hair looked beautiful, her fingernails, too. I imagined her, Lottie, and Eve styling each other’s hair and painting each other’s nails. Such sweet girls, they deserved it, and I couldn’t envy them. “I’m on rest today.”

  Eve added, “Two of us work all day, picking up patients or taking the doctors to administer care, the third one resting during the day and doing maintenance on the ambulances, or going out if necessary in the evenings. We rotate positions every three days.”

  Their organization impressed me, and even Cass lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Apparently Eve had taken charge and had done a good job of it. I could see satisfaction on Cass’s face. A bit of color had risen in her cheeks, and she smiled at the girls as if she really meant it. Maybe back here, she could say goodbye to her demons.

  Other people came by and welcomed us back, too. Some clapped us on the shoulder or patted us on the head as if we’d just performed well on a school examination. Thankfully, no one asked us what we’d seen and done. We couldn’t have put those memories into words, and Cass certainly didn’t need to relive them, either.

  Hearing a noise behind me, I discovered the boy with the broken leg had swung his way up to us using his crutches. He looked about eight years old.

  Kitty said, “Hello, Poppy.”

  “Bonjour,” the boy replied. He reminded me of a younger Jimmy—all boy, all smiles, and full of life. Some mischief probably mixed in there, too.

  “Are you bored?” Eve asked and patted the bench seat beside her, indicating that he could sit there.

  He shook his head. He must have learned the meaning of the word bored.

  To us, she said, “He’s going out of his mind here. We call him Poppy because he makes us happy, like seeing a field of poppies. We have to keep him occupied—”

  “Or he’ll get into the kitchen or try to escape,” finished Kitty.

  “Haid-hand-seik?” Poppy asked Eve.

  She replied, “A few minutes?”

  He nodded enthusiastically, his eyes now alight with that mischief I’d sensed earlier.

  Facing us, Kitty said, “We’ve taught him some English.”

  Eve added, “But he prefers to play games, especially hide-and-seek. We hide a small ball in places he can
reach, but it’s getting harder and harder to find good hidey-holes. Everything’s gotten so bare here. By the way, may we utilize your shoes?”

  I glanced to my side and discerned a tiny bit of pleasure on Cass’s face. Thank God. Far removed from the front lines, this place almost felt like a vacation.

  Sunset arrived soon after we pulled up, and we dived into the cook’s fine dinner, then Dr. Logan surprised me by coming to our table and addressing me.

  “Did Captain Brohammer find you in Meaux?”

  The mention of his name sent a shock up my spine. Her face looked open and expectant. I tried to appear unaffected as I reminded myself that he told me he’d come to Neufmoutiers looking for me and had spoken to Dr. Logan.

  “He did,” I answered.

  She looked even more pleased. “What a charming man,” she said before smiling and then turning to leave.

  As she left earshot, Cass said, “What’d I tell you?”

  I shook my head.

  Despite the mention of Brohammer, I prepared myself for the first good night’s sleep in what felt like a very long time. My eyelids glued themselves together as soon as my head sank into the pillow.

  To my surprise, however, in the middle of the night, a sound awakened me. In our absence the other drivers had taken turns sleeping in our room for a night alone, but they’d cleaned it and turned it over to us upon our return. Cass and I shared the same bed just as before.

  My body froze as she rose off the mattress and slid from the bed, then I barely heard her dress. The air moved as she opened the door and slipped out of the room . . . again! Going out in the middle of the night again.

  I wondered if she went out alone, and if so, why did she never do it in Meaux? Back there, maybe the strain of it all had left her too shattered and upset to seek solitude. Maybe the horror had sapped her energy. I convinced myself that just now, she’d headed out to meet someone, perhaps a villager from Neufmoutiers or nearby.

  If true, however, how had she let him know she had come back? I’d stayed near to Cass ever since we’d arrived. I supposed she could’ve slipped away for a few moments while we washed up separately, but I doubted it. And then the obvious. All anyone had to do was see our ambulances back in front of the château to know we had returned.