“Wait, where do I go now? Where are my ... um ... quarters?”
Sal looked back at Mary and something about the young nurse touched Sal’s heart. But Sal couldn’t let her soft side show. This was a man’s world and she needed to be tough to get ahead, to be respected, to have credibility. “You’ll have to find your own way to your quarters.”
Sal rushed out of the hospital and about 100 yards ahead, she saw the two Royal Air Force officers, arms folded, feet tapping impatiently. She caught up with them outside the administrative building.
She saluted and held out her hand. “Major Sally Bradley, at your service.” The taller officer eyed her up and down and rejected the offer of Sal’s hand.
The shorter of the two Brits spoke. “I’m Group Captain Thomas Hudson, Major, and this is Group Captain Edward Welles.”
Welles grunted. “You’re late.”
Another asshole, Sal thought. British men are just as bad as Americans.
Sal was one of the first nurses to join the 1044th’s medical unit and, instead of being rewarded for her experience, knowledge of the base, and seniority, she was forced to play the role of a Gal Friday. “I’m very sorry, Captain. I’ll take you to meet Colonel William Morton now. Please follow me.”
“Colonel Morton can wait,” Edward sniffed. “I’m famished. Take me to the officers dining room.”
“The Officer’s Club doesn’t open until the main Commissary closes,” Sal explained. “Colonel Morton has a policy about officers eating with their troops. He says it builds camaraderie. So everyone eats together in the Commissary.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “Americans. You truly are uncivilized.”
“No, we’re practical.” Sal was getting more and more annoyed by the arrogance of this jerk, but she struggled to sound professional. “We’re here to support the war effort, Captain, and having an extra dining space doesn’t help us win the war.”
Edward was clearly taken aback by Sal’s outburst. “My, my. More than just another pretty face, are you? I’m not here to quibble about politics, love.” Edward handed Sal a piece of paper. “Here.”
Sal knit her brow as she looked it over. “What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s my list of necessaries.” Edward barely looked at Sal when he spoke.
Sal raised her eyebrows. “A bath? We have shower stalls, not baths.”
“Surely you industrious Americans can figger something out. I want a bath drawn for me each night by 9:00 p.m. with precisely two hundred and twenty five grams of colloidal oatmeal, dissolved. The water temperature should be between 50 and 70 degrees Celsius. I awaken at 4:30 and I take breakfast at O-five hundred. Is that clear?”
Sal couldn’t hold back her sarcasm any longer. “This isn’t the Ritz, you know. It’s a war zone. Our Commissary opens at O-six hundred and you eat when we eat. Is that clear?”
Edward was blinking rapidly, a nervous habit of his. “You’re starting to wear on my nerves, love. Look, my comrade Group Captain Hudson and I are invited guests. We were asked here by your Colonel to train your troops to fly our Bristol bombers. I expect to be treated like a guest and I won’t tolerate that kind of insolence from an inferior. Just make it happen, love. I don’t care how. Is that clear? Now, where’s the dining room?”
Sal shook her head in disgust and led the way to the Commissary.
Chapter 3
“Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well-trained, well-equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.”
- General Dwight Eisenhower
Outside the dormitories, two young soldiers were telling each other dirty jokes and practically doubled over with laughter, until a Sergeant interrupted their fun.
“Hey you!” Sergeant Louis Richards shook a finger at the younger men. “What’s so funny?”
Private Michael Zacharius looked at his buddy, Private Joe Douglas and the two of them started laughing again.
“Listen, I outrank you,” the Sergeant reminded them of that fact often. “You will not laugh in my presence.”
“Sorry Sarge,” Joe said halfheartedly.
“No ... we’re not sorry,” Michael said, and the laughing started again.
“You know what?” Louis asked. “Fine, you wanna act like little boys, I don’t care. You’re just a couple of immature idiots who will never be anything more than Privates. And I’m sick and tired of your monkey business.” Louis started to walk away and abruptly stopped. He turned and walked right up to Michael and pressed his index finger into Michael’s chest. “One more thing, Zacharius. I know it was you who switched on the public address system in my office two nights ago.”
“Gee Sarge,” Michael said, “I wish I could take credit for it, but ....”
“Shut up,” Louis said, getting hot under the collar. “Just shut up and quit trying to deny it. You’re guilty as sin. You humiliated me in front the whole camp.”
Michael tried to look innocent. “I think you did that all by yourself, Sarge. Don’t blame me if you couldn’t ‘perform’ for your girlfriend. It’s just too bad that the whole base heard it firsthand.”
Joe’s attempts at stifling his laughter were futile. “Shut your trap, Zacharius. That goes for you too, Douglas. It’s not a laughing matter! You’ve both crossed me once too often,” Louis fumed. “You juvenile delinquents may be winning the battle, but you’re not gonna win this war. I am! Do you understand?”
Joe shrugged. “Um I don’t. How about you, Michael?”
“Hear this you little twerps,” Louis interjected. “Laugh now. But I’ve got my eye on you both, and one day, your antics are going to get you into biiiig trouble. Court Martial trouble. And when they do, believe you-me, I’ll be there.”
As Louis walked away, Michael watched Joe flip him the bird. Michael and Joe met only a few months earlier when they both got shipped overseas and arrived at the Devonshire base. It was only by luck -- others might say misfortune -- that the two of them ended up sharing a barracks. They became fast friends, almost inseparable. But the two of them together were hell on wheels and quickly became known for playing practical jokes on anyone and everyone.
They continued making their way toward the Commissary for dinner, when someone rushing through the Quad bumped into Michael, practically bowling him over.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Michael said to the young girl who bulldozed past him, obviously on a single-minded mission. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”
Mary turned around to apologize as she walked backwards, and as soon as she saw Michael, she stopped and gasped audibly. He had the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. He looked like a matinee idol. Blue eyes like Frank Sinatra, tall and lean like Henry Fonda, with chiseled features like Errol Flynn, all packaged under chestnut brown hair that was slicked back and perfectly combed. “Oh my god, you’re ... you look like a movie star.”
Joe shook his head in mock disgust. Joe was handsome in his own right, piercing blue eyes, black hair, warm smile. But there were times when it seemed he couldn’t compete with his buddy Mike when it came to the fairer sex, and today was one of those days. “Not fair,” Joe pouted, pretending to be upset. “Back home, I’m the one who gets all the attention from the girls. But when I’m around you, I might just as well be invisible. I need to find a new best friend.”
Michael crossed his arms as he continued to stare down the diminutive redhead, arching his eyebrows as if he was waiting for something. “An apology maybe?” he finally said. “It would seem an apology is in order when you practically knock someone down like that.”
“Oh um, yeah, sorry. Truly,” Mary muttered. “I was just ... um.... Do either of you know where the showers are?”
Michael and Joe looked at each other slyly and smiled. Michael walked over to Mary and put his arm around her shoulder. “Sure we do. Come on. I’ll take you there.”
Michael walked Mary back toward the dorms, to the outdoor shower stalls while Joe followed closely be
hind. Mary stared up at Michael, somewhat in awe to be standing so close to someone so handsome. “Um. My name is Mary.”
“Nice to meet you, Mary,” Michael said. “My name is ... Sergeant Richards. Louis Richards. And here we are. Your shower awaits, milady.” Michael bowed his head slightly as he gestured toward the outdoor shower stalls near the dorms.
“Um. No, this can’t be right. It’s outside.”
“That’s correct,” Joe noted.
“But it’s kind of cold out here. I can’t get ... um ... naked outside.”
“Sorry, Miss ...” Michael began.
“Mary,” she reminded him. “I told you, my name is Mary.”
“We don’t have the same creature comforts here that you’re used to back home,” Joe explained. “Isn’t that right, Sergeant Richards?”
“Indeed it is, Major.” Michael added. “Well, have a nice shower ... um ... Mary.”
Michael and Joe walked a few yards away, then ducked around the side of the building and watched Mary as she went into the shower stall. They snickered while they waited for her to undress and turn on the water.
When they saw the water flowing from the shower head, they tiptoed back over and pulled on a cord that caused the canvas around the shower stall to roll up and reveal Mary, naked as a jaybird.
Her eyes were closed as she let the shower water rain over her face. She must have felt the cold air hit her body because she abruptly looked around and saw that she was completely out in the open, with groups of passersby looking at her and laughing. When she spotted Joe and Michael, she didn’t even try to cover up. Instead, she put her hands on her hips, pursed her lips and sneered at the two practical jokesters.
“Bastards! You think you’re funny, don’t you?” She called out. “Just wait. I’m gonna get back at you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Michael and Joe were nearly doubled over with laughter as they jogged out of Mary’s sight and over to the Commissary for dinner.
Chapter 4
“No amphibious attack in history has approached this one in size.”
--General Dwight D. Eisenhower
With her hair dripping wet and her clothes sticking to her damp body, Mary barged into the administrative building and demanded to speak with the officer in charge. She was directed to an office where a dark haired, dark eyed, muscular administrator sat behind his desk. She didn’t wait to be noticed. She just started speaking.
“I want to file a complaint.”
The Sergeant shook his head, clearly annoyed at the interruption. He slowly looked up from his paperwork.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Nurse Mary Clayton and I want to file a formal complaint against Sergeant Louis Richards.”
The Sergeant’s eyes shifted to the nameplate on his desk and he picked it up and held it in front of Mary.
“Why do you want to file a complaint against me?” Louis asked.
Mary’s eyes widened. “What? No, you’re not him. He’s ... um ... he has eyes. Blue eyes. And hair. And dimples. And he has a friend. They’re both major jerks.”
“I think I might know who you’re talking about. But you still haven’t told me what they did.”
“They pulled the curtains off the shower stall while I was in there showering. Naked!”
“I see. Well, actually, I don’t see. I kind of wish I did,” Louis smirked. “Unfortunately, what they did to you isn’t technically a crime, but I’d be happy to ....”
Mary couldn’t believe how cavalier the Sergeant was acting. It seemed more like he was making fun of her than sympathizing. “Oh my god. You are all alike,” she shrieked. “I hate you all.” Mary huffed off and left Louis with a mildly annoyed, yet slightly amused look on his face.
As Mary huffed out, Sally stormed in. “That’s it! That’s it. That’s the last time I do you any favors, do you understand me?”
“Sal! Sal, calm down. What’s the matter?” Louis got up from his desk and approached Sally.
“You asked me to be the welcoming committee for those arrogant Royal Air Freak assholes!”
“Didn’t I thank you?”
“No, but that’s not even the point. Look at this.” Sal handed Louis the list Edward gave her.
“What’s this? Epsom salts? Breakfast at 5:00? Ha! Who do they think they are?”
“They think they’re frickin’ King George.”
“Well, do whatever you can.” Louis gave the list back to Sal. She just glared at him incredulously.
“Do your own dirty work, Sergeant.”
“Is that an order?” Louis chuckled, not taking Sal very seriously.
“As a matter of fact, it is. I outrank you,” Sal reminded Louis.
“You outrank me only because you’re a nurse and medical personnel automatically have higher ranks. In the bedroom, however, I outrank you,” Louis answered flirtatiously. “Remember that.”
“Well I’m done with that too,” Sal started to back away. “I’m done with you! I’m washing my hands of this whole affair!”
Louis cocked his head and looked at Sal. He closed the gap of space between them and massaged her shoulders, knowing she couldn’t resist his charms. “Honey, you said you’d help me out while I tackle this mountain of paperwork. Remember? I have to process the beneficiary checks and finish payroll.”
Sal looked at the stack of papers on Louis’s desk. “Yeah, I could tell you were real busy with that new nurse when I walked in. She wasn't wearing very much.”
Louis gently kissed Sal’s lips. “You’re beautiful when you’re jealous. But you have nothing worry about, Sal. I don’t even know her name.”
Sal returned the little kiss. “You didn’t remember my name either the first time we ....” Louis kissed Sal mid-sentence, pressing his lips harder onto hers. Her arms closed around him and she moved closer until her body was flush with his. Their breathing became labored and they fumbled with each other’s buttons, then their own. They shed their clothes and made love atop the mountain of paperwork on Louis’s desk.
Chapter 5
“Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will say, ‘This was their finest hour.’”
--British Prime Minister Winston Churchill
Her eyeglasses were getting spattered with food as she whipped the boiled potatoes, powdered milk, and butter together. She glanced at the clock -- 4:45. Only 15 minutes left before the Commissary’s dinner rush. Her wrists ached from the repeated motion of stirring the thick mixture through the whisk. Even though it was March, the kitchen was hot as hell. Growing up in an orphanage outside St. Louis, Cathy knew hot, and Cathy knew hell. The Vornado fans did little more than circulate the hot air around and cause her thick black hair to curl up into a frizzy mess.
Cathy didn’t care how she looked anyway. Even now at age 21, she still had tomboy tendencies. She didn’t like doing the things that other girls liked to do. Girls in the 1930s and 1940s were interested in boys and movie stars, popular music, makeup and clothing -- not serious enough for Cathy’s tastes.
When she wasn’t reading about world events, sports, politics, and the economy in newspapers, magazines, and books, she wanted to talk about world events, sports, politics, and the economy. She was always like that for some reason. That’s probably why Cathy tended to get along better with boys than with girls. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, to get her fingernails dirty, to climb trees, or jump fences, and she didn’t care how she looked while she was doing it.
Here on base, she kept to herself, did what she was told and steered clear of involvements. Living in an orphanage taught her to depend on no one, to keep from forming attachments, and to be totally independent. So working behind the scenes in the kitchen was the perfect assignment for her.
The Commissary staff was made up of civilian volunteers like herself who went through some basic first aid training and air-raid drills. So the
only people she had to interact with were Chief Cook Ray, cooks Suze and Millie, and the two servers, Maggie and Doris. Cathy and Suze butted heads almost from day one. In fact, none of them seemed to appreciate Cathy’s edgy personality and sarcasm, so she made a concerted effort not to talk much at all.
Maggie, one of the mess hall servers, came bolting into the kitchen, searching for Ray.
“Ray! I need help.”
A cigarette dangled between Ray’s lips as he eyed Maggie with annoyance. “What?”
In Love and War Page 2