by Leslie Gould
Joe reread the letter and then answered it, saying that he was well and that he too hoped the war would end soon.
The next morning, when he showed up on the ward, Lt. Shaw wasn’t there. However, Karcher was. The man avoided making eye contact with Joe, as he had for the last several weeks.
Joe asked Lt. Madison about Lt. Shaw.
“She wasn’t feeling well and left about a half hour ago.”
Joe hoped Lt. Shaw was all right and looked for her at suppertime in the cafeteria, but he didn’t see her. She wasn’t on the ward the next morning either.
On Saturday morning, she was back. When he asked how she was feeling, she said, “All right.”
Since they both had the next day off, he asked if she’d like to go to church.
“I would,” she said.
As they set out at nine o’clock the next morning, the day was already hot and sticky. Lt. Shaw pointed to a bench in a park along the way and asked if they could stop and rest.
Once they’d sat down, Lt. Shaw said she’d received bad news from her uncle. “My aunt died last month.”
“Oh no,” Joe responded.
“I didn’t even know she was ill. And then he waited so long to let me know she’d passed.” Lt. Shaw shivered, even in the heat. “She was my last connection to my parents and my grandparents.”
Joe told her that he was sorry.
“Denki,” she said. “I feel so disconnected, as if I’m floating off by myself. And soon, it seems, I’ll be sailing off to Europe.” As she exhaled, she looked as if her heart were breaking. “I feel so silly saying this, but it’s hard to be going off to war and not have any relatives back home thinking about me and praying for me.” Lt. Shaw brushed at her eyes. “This sounds so immature, I know, but if I were to die in France, no one would cry.”
“It doesn’t sound immature—and it’s not true,” Joe said. “Surely your uncle and cousins would.”
She looked up at him with misty eyes. “It’s a nice thought, but they would simply say it was God’s will.”
He understood that reaction. That’s what so many had said when his Mamm passed. True, God had allowed it. But Joe wasn’t so sure that He willed tragedies. He certainly didn’t believe God had willed this horrible war.
“I’d cry,” he said. “If something happened to you.”
“Thank you, Joe. You’re too kind. But I’m afraid I’m foolish at heart, wanting what I don’t have. And I’m tired. I shouldn’t even think about this sort of thing when I’m exhausted.”
He longed to put his arm around her, to protect her.
Instead, he whispered, “You’re not foolish. I haven’t seen you, not once, act foolishly or shy away from a dangerous situation on the ward. You’re brave and courageous. You have good reason to react the way you are to going to Europe. Perhaps Captain Russell will understand.”
“I don’t want to say anything,” she said. “I shouldn’t get special treatment. Others have families—mothers and fathers. Many of the doctors have wives and children. They actually have far more reason to stay than I do.”
“Do you feel as if you can talk to God about all of this?” Joe asked.
“I think so.” She smiled up at him. “It helps that I’ve talked it through with you. Thank you for listening—you’ve been so understanding. I know God is too.” She leaned away from him. “I hope I haven’t been unfair to you.”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed again. “You’re expected to join the church. All of this”—her blue eyes met his as she spread her arms wide—“Chicago, the hospital, me. None of this can be a part of your life. Not for more than this season.”
Joe’s heart lurched.
“I hope I wasn’t too forward on our first walk, when Lt. Karcher saw us.”
“Not at all,” he answered. Was that why she hadn’t taken his arm since? “I’ve worried about Karcher though. Has he behaved poorly toward you?”
Lt. Shaw shrugged her shoulders. “He won’t listen to me on the ward. He overrules every idea I have. If I say a patient needs one thing, he’ll do everything he can to prove the patient needs something else. But, no, he hasn’t behaved badly like he did that night. What about toward you?”
“He won’t look me in the eye.”
Lt. Shaw smiled a little. “I think Captain Russell pulled him through the wringer about ‘reporting’ us.”
Joe wanted to say something more but not about Karcher. About them. But as he tried to choose the right words, she pushed herself up from the bench. The moment had passed. He’d missed his chance.
Joe thought about Lt. Shaw the next morning when Lt. Madison received her orders. By the end of July she’d be going to training at Fort Drum in upstate New York. Then she’d travel to England and across the Channel to France sometime in September.
The day went from bad to worse when Bennie’s fever spiked. “Joe, I don’t feel right,” Bennie said. “I feel like I’m dying.” The soldier’s breathing was irregular and the skin on his thigh was patchy.
Karcher was doing the rounds and Joe alerted him. But when the doctor examined Bennie, he simply made a few notes in his chart. After Karcher left, Joe told Lt. Madison he thought they needed to get Bennie more care. She made a phone call and got an older, more experienced doctor on the floor. He examined Bennie and then called for a blood sample. Joe overheard the doctor say he thought Bennie was septic.
Joe had been on the floor long enough to know that wasn’t good. It meant Bennie could have a blood infection.
Lt. Madison drew the blood, and Joe delivered it to the lab. When he returned, Bennie was gasping for breath. Joe helped Lt. Madison get an oxygen tent set up as Joe sang hymns and tried to soothe him. But just before the end of the shift, Bennie breathed for the last time as Joe held on to the soldier’s hand.
Joe left the floor feeling defeated. Bennie had died. Lt. Shaw was probably going to France. He hadn’t felt so low the whole time he’d been in Chicago.
When he returned to the barracks, Captain Russell was waving his orders around gleefully. The captain was going to France too. He’d be the commander of the unit being sent from the hospital. He said there were fifteen of them, including Lt. Shaw. Everyone Joe worked with the most, except the other Civilian Public Service orderlies and Karcher, was going.
“Will you join up now?” Captain Russell asked Joe. “You could do your training at Fort Drum and leave from there with the rest of us.”
Joe felt a loyalty he hadn’t expected. He asked if civilian orderlies could volunteer. “We’re not taking any civilians,” the captain said. “You’d need to enlist. The army needs more orderlies. Like I said, I could get you a place at Fort Drum. It wouldn’t be a problem.”
Joe hadn’t joined the Amish church—he wouldn’t be shunned if he joined. He could enlist, serve his time in the army, return home after he was discharged, and then join the church. It would break his father’s heart though.
But if he enlisted, he’d be able to help Lt. Shaw—and the others too.
Captain Russell must have sensed Joe’s grief because he asked, “What’s wrong?”
He told him Bennie had just died.
“That’s why you need to enlist,” Captain Russell said. “If Bennie had been helped right away instead of being left on the field all that time, the docs in the field hospital might have saved his leg.” He squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “There’s important work to be done, and you could play a role in it.”
10
As Joe walked toward the lake with Ali that night, he talked through his dilemma.
His friend shook his head. “Why would you consider joining? You’re nonresistant. You’d go through training to learn how to kill another person, and you’d have to do it, if needed. You could end up as a medic on a battlefield—not an orderly in a field hospital. Either way you’d have to wear an army uniform and carry a weapon.”
Ali had a point. Joe feared he wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger to tak
e another life, which would be a danger to everyone around him.
“Have you heard of the American Field Service?” Ali asked.
Joe shook his head.
“It’s a volunteer service with the Allied Forces. I have a friend, a CO who joined a couple of years ago. He drove an ambulance in Northern Africa and now he’s in Italy, or at least he was. Maybe he’s in France by now.”
“I don’t know how to drive an ambulance—or any vehicle,” Joe said. “I only know how to drive a wagon. And a buggy.”
Ali laughed and slapped him on the back. “Well, that won’t do you any good.”
The next morning, as Joe accompanied Captain Russell on his rounds, he asked the doctor what he knew about the American Field Service.
“We have a doctor here who served in Northern Africa. He said the AFS was invaluable. He doesn’t know what they would have done without them.” Captain Russell paused before going on to the next patient. “Why do you ask?”
Joe cleared his throat. “I’d like to do more. . . .” He couldn’t help but think of Bennie.
“Then the AFS sounds like a good option.” Captain Russell grabbed the patient’s chart.
“Except . . .”
Captain Russell glanced up.
“First, I don’t know how to drive.” Joe gripped imaginary reins with his hands.
Captain Russell grinned. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“And say I did learn to drive and then joined the AFS, I’d like to find out where I’d be sent. Would there be any chance I could be assigned to your hospital?”
Captain Russell’s expression turned from somber to serious. “Chances are we’d all end up in France—to start with at least—but I can’t even guess how many Allied regiments there will be. If we met up at some point, I’d say that would be a miracle.”
Joe understood. If he joined the AFS, his sole purpose would have to be to serve the infantry soldiers. Not to support his friends, Lt. Shaw in particular, or to even hope to see her again. His thoughts returned to Bennie and the need for ambulance drivers. In the months to come, it would be as essential as ever to get the wounded to field hospitals as soon as possible. Joe was strong and capable. He could carry a grown man by himself, if need be. And he was fast on his feet. “I’d like to learn to drive and apply to go with the AFS,” he said.
Captain Russell’s eyes shone. “I’ll check around and see what I can find out. And in the meantime, I’ll find a car.” He smiled again. “And give you a lesson or two.”
Just as they finished their rounds, Karcher stepped onto the floor and marched straight toward Captain Russell. “I need to speak with you. In private.”
Without looking up, Captain Russell said, “If this is about your lack of orders, there’s nothing to talk about. You’re not going.”
“That’s absurd,” Karcher bellowed.
Captain Russell looked up and met the man’s eyes. “You’re untrustworthy as a doctor, ungentlemanly with the nurses, and rude to the orderlies. Why in the world would I want to take you? I’m guessing you’ll be receiving other orders shortly—but not in our unit.”
Karcher scoffed. “You ask a Dutchy to join the army so he can go with you, yet you’re denying me the chance?”
“That’s right. But Bachmann isn’t your concern, so back off.”
Shaking his head in disgust, Karcher plowed between the two of them, heading for the stairwell.
“Ignore him,” Captain Russell said. “I really don’t care what he says to me. I’m just grateful my superiors heeded my request to leave him behind.”
Joe nodded in agreement. He’d rather have Karcher tormenting him in Chicago than treating Lt. Shaw badly during their training in New York, and then overseas too.
Captain Russell approached Joe in the cafeteria the next evening as he was eating with Lt. Shaw.
“Let’s go,” Captain Russell said, eyes gleaming. “We have the car for an hour.”
“The car?” Lt. Shaw turned toward Joe. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe not much.” Joe stood and grabbed his tray. “We’ll see how it goes.”
Joe had never shared with anyone in his family that cars and trucks fascinated him, but Faith had noticed and ridiculed him about it, admonishing him to be cautious of “the ways of the world.” Still, the few times Joe had been in a vehicle, he’d carefully observed what the driver did. Throttle. Clutch. Accelerator. Shift from first to second to third.
Captain Russell stopped in front of a black 1932 Ford Cabriolet. Joe knew it had a V8, which was a powerful engine.
The captain tossed him the keys. One of the newer cars he’d rode in back home, not long ago, was started with a key—otherwise Joe wasn’t sure he’d know what to do with it.
He inhaled and willed himself to be calm. As he slipped it into the ignition, he pushed in the clutch.
“Good,” Captain Russell said. “You know the basics.”
“I’m not sure that I do, actually,” Joe said. “You’d better talk me through everything.”
“All right,” the captain said. “Let’s just take a moment and go over a few things, but first I want to tell you that I grew up in a little town in Minnesota.” He cleared his throat. “My parents didn’t have a car. With the Depression and all, they couldn’t afford one, so I didn’t learn to drive until I joined the army. You didn’t learn for another reason, but don’t think you’re alone.”
Joe was encouraged by the man’s words, and by the time the captain had Joe start the car and pull away from the curb, he felt more confident.
It felt like trial by fire as he lurched through the first few blocks, but by the time he turned right toward the lake, he mostly had the hang of the shifting. Soon they were on Lake Shore Drive with the breeze from the lake blowing through the car.
“You’re a natural,” Captain Russell said.
Joe shifted into fourth. “Did you have a chance to talk with the doctor who served in North Africa?”
“I did,” the captain said. “He said the AFS is a godsend. Far more soldiers would die on the field if it weren’t for them. Of course, he reiterated what we already expected—there would be little chance you’d see our unit over there at all.”
Joe nodded. He wouldn’t expect anything, but if the AFS accepted him, he would still pray that he’d be stationed somewhere near Captain Russell and his unit.
“So if you decide to join, it should be to serve in that way. Not to help me”—Captain Russell cleared his throat—“or anyone serving with me.”
Joe shot him a smile as he came around a curve. The captain yelled, “Slow down!” as he braced his hand against the dash.
Joe slammed on the brakes and pushed the clutch in at the same time. At the last minute, he swerved and careened around an old, dilapidated truck in the middle of the road. The driver waved for them to stop, yelling, “Can you give me a push?”
“One thing I forgot to teach you,” Captain Russell said as Joe pulled the car over to the side of the road, “is always expect the unexpected.”
A few days later, Joe received a letter from Charity saying how much she missed him. Abe Yoder has been visiting frequently to see Faith. He’s a good man, but I’m not sure Faith appreciates him. I didn’t think she’d be as critical of him as she’s been with all of us, but she’s turned out to be even worse. Hope thinks they’ll be married by fall, but I’m not so sure.
Joe’s stomach sunk. First, he hadn’t realized that Faith treated Hope and Charity the way she treated him, but it sounded as if she did. He never would have expected Faith to treat a prospective husband that way either. For the first time, he wondered what was behind her behavior.
After a second driving lesson the next week, Captain Russell said Joe didn’t need any more, but Joe insisted he did. He couldn’t go off to Europe to drive an ambulance with so little experience.
As Joe parked the car in front of the hospital, Captain Russell grinned and pointed toward the entrance to the hospit
al. “Well, maybe one more lesson.”
Lt. Shaw headed down the front steps with Lt. Madison. Each carried a basket.
“Look who’s here.” Captain Russell jumped out of the car. “Lt. Shaw, you sit up front. I’ll sit in the back with Lt. Madison.”
“What’s going on?” Joe asked.
“A picnic,” Captain Russell said as he opened the trunk so the women could store the baskets.
Joe glanced at Lt. Shaw as she climbed into the front, seeing if she might tell him what was going on, but she had a questioning expression on her face too.
“How about we go to that park we passed when we were driving along the lake?” Captain Russell asked as he settled into the back seat.
Nervousness washed over Joe. Was this a double date set up by Captain Russell? Was it obvious to everyone how much he admired Lt. Shaw?
He nearly stalled the car but shoved the clutch in all the way and managed to get it moving. He took a deep breath and headed back toward the lake.
Perhaps his anxiety was obvious to the others because no one spoke until Joe turned onto Lake Shore Drive. Then Lt. Shaw asked, “Did you just learn to drive for the fun of it?”
“Something like that,” Joe answered.
Captain Russell grabbed the back of Joe’s seat. “He wants to go to France. As an ambulance driver.”
Lt. Shaw’s voice wavered. “What?”
“With the American Field Service,” Captain Russell continued.
“No!” Lt. Shaw leaned back in her seat, away from Joe.
His heart fell. She didn’t want him to go. He kept his eyes on the road as Lt. Shaw turned her head toward the window.
Everyone was quiet until they reached the park. Then Joe and the captain grabbed the baskets and led the way to a picnic table with the women walking behind them.
Once they started eating their sandwiches and apples, the awkwardness in the car faded, and the four of them watched two sailboats racing on the lake and predicted which one would win. After they were done eating, Captain Russell and Lt. Madison headed down toward the water’s edge.