Delia

by Jason LaVelle

  “I’m taking you out tonight.”

  “I’m supposed to be supervising here.”

  “Kate told me she would stay late.”

  Now Delia returned Alice’s mischievous smile. “Then I guess it is a date.”

  Alice slid one hand over Delia’s. “Stop it,” Delia said, “I’ve got blood all over my hands.”

  Delia shooed her away and Alice waltzed off down the hospital wing.

  Delia and Alice had grown very close over the last six months in Belgium. They were nearly inseparable. They did not share a room but that was about all. Alice made Delia feel alive. It seemed silly when she thought about it, because she had always been alive and very productive, but now everything just seemed a little brighter. Colors and music seemed to be splashed with life whereas before they were abstract concepts.

  It was a confusing time for Delia. She was engaged, working toward a bright future, but now that she was thousands of miles from home, she had found an amazing connection. With a woman, no less. Nothing inappropriate had really happened, yet. They held hands sometimes when they walked and Alice would occasionally stay late in her room with a glass of wine. Delia did not know what it meant, but for the time being, she would just indulge the goodness she felt in Alice’s presence.

  Delia had almost made it out of the ward when a patient’s yell caught her attention. The voice that caught her attention belonged to an old soldier with an amputated leg and a nasty chewing tobacco habit.

  “Nurse, he’s bleeding! Come quickly! The boy!” The injured man was waving his hand wildly and pointing in the direction of the young boy she had just finished bandaging.

  Oh no! Delia began to run back through the ward, and as she neared his bed, she could actually see blood pouring over the edge of it and onto the ground. Oh my God! What could have happened?

  “Doctor come quickly!” she started screaming at the top of her lungs before she even reached the boy.

  By the time she reached him Delia’s heart nearly dropped out of her chest. The wound had burst open. The dressing she had put on was soaked and doing nothing to stop the stream of blood that was oozing out of him. What can I do, what am I going to do?

  “Doctor!” she screamed again. Why wasn’t he coming? Delia ripped the dressing from the boy’s abdomen. The stitches had indeed come open, but why was there so much blood? His stomach was swollen too. Oh Jesus, no, please no! Delia had an idea what had happened, though she prayed she was wrong. She heard the door swing open at the end of the hall as she pulled out a short pair of shears and snipped through the external stitches on the boy’s abdomen. As she was doing this, the child was beginning to moan, his eyes visibly rolling beneath his closed lids. Oh honey, just stay sleeping, you don’t want to see this.

  Delia snipped open the last suture and the wound broke wide open and a torrent of blood made an exodus from his body. Delia gasped and grabbed a towel to try to stop the flow of blood. Just then the doctor reached her.

  “Nurse, what the hell is going on here? I told you to dress this boy, not remove his sutures!”

  “Doctor, I believe the artery had ruptured through the stitches. I can’t even see the source of the blood.”

  The doctor pushed his hands into the wound and felt around for a moment, and then the color drained from his face. “The stitches didn’t hold inside.”

  “Well redo the sutures doctor, hurry!”

  The doctor shook his head sadly. “The artery has torn, and I can find only one side of it. I can’t see anything. There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  Delia dropped to her knees as the doctor rose. Shakily, the doctor walked away from the boy who was bleeding to death. His eyes were opening now, and staring rather blankly at the ceiling. Delia began to weep, then moved up to the boy’s side and draped her arm across his chest, holding him, and blocking his stomach from view.

  His skin was very pale and his lips were an unnatural gray. The boy mumbled something in a language she did not know, then his voice faded and his eyes slipped closed once more. And Delia cried. She cried long and hard, her body shaking with the enormous grief of watching innocence crushed and killed by the wars of its parents.

  *****

  Francis dragged himself and his men forward through the long hedgerow. It seemed unending. They had been ambushed twice on this path but still they pressed on, ever closer to the next town. Francis was becoming worn. He had been in-country fighting for months, and already he felt like a different person. He looked down at the civilians they occasionally came across, and sneered when they came begging for food or offering their thanks. Francis started to feel that they were not worth saving. So many of his men had fallen.

  Bill was still with him, but Johnny was not. Last week they had been marching along another hedgerow when a small detachment of soldiers opened fire on them from behind a civilian’s woodshed. Francis didn’t even hear the shot - Johnny’s head exploded next to him. An instant later, bullets began to fall all around them. It was only six men, who had likely been cut off from their own supplies, but they managed to kill nine American soldiers, and his British friend.

  Now he and Bill were the last of their original team that came out of training camp together. Francis could tell that Bill was starting to feel the long weary effects of battle. His normal joking good nature had given way to silence. They were just surviving now. The fire had gone out of them to fight for the cause and now they were just trying to stay alive. Darkness was falling on them quickly and the decision was made to stop for the night. After exhaustive efforts were made to secure their perimeter, the men were able to drop their gear and rest at last.

  Francis and a few of his men made a small fire then sat down and rested against the heavy backpacks they had carried all year. Francis pulled a notepad and a pencil out of his pack and began to write.

  Dearest Delia,

  It has been many months now, and I feel the weight of the war on my shoulders. I no longer feel happiness during the day. The landscape here is dull and bleak. The ground ahead of me rolls onward with no end, just as I fear this war will. Most of my friends are dead now, and those who are not wish they were. We don’t even talk about home any more, for just the thought is too painful for most of us to bear. I miss those days when we were children, and we would walk through the field for fun, and run through the trees joyfully. Do you remember when we made love beneath that tree the day before I left? I think about that day and that night often. I miss you terribly, Dee. You are my only reason now, the only reason I keep picking my feet up and putting them down again. I hope that you will still want me when this is all finished. I have killed so many men that I fear I am no longer the man I was before. I do know that I love you, and I can’t wait for the day when you will become my wife. I want things to be simple again, just you and me and no violence or politics to think about. I love you Dee. Please write me when you can, just a word from you would brighten my day.

  Your Fiancé,

  Francis

  Francis tucked the letter into his pack and closed his eyes. Gunfire suddenly erupted nearby. The company was on its feet in an instant, but that instant was too late. What they thought was gunfire was actually a dozen or more mortars being launched simultaneously, so that it sounded like machine gun fire. The mortars ripped through the air and began exploding all around the camp. The resting soldiers had no chance. Francis ran for the hedgerow, and as he did, he saw soldiers as they were thrown into the air by the force of the explosions. Others were hit on the ground and their bodies blew apart. Then another volley sounded in the distance.

  “Bill! Bill! Get over here!” Francis tried to shout over the chaos. “We need to get up there, now!” Bill was crawling on the ground toward Francis’s position.

  “Right, drop the packs and go in the shadows?”

  “Yes.” Bill and Francis stripped out of their gear, except their M1s and their side arms. The second volley of mortars had hit and more of their comrades were dying
. Soldiers were being thrown all over the camp. There was no semblance of order - the Lieutenant had been killed and with the NCOs scattered throughout the camp, the men didn’t know who to listen to now.

  Bill and Francis set off into the blackness. There was no moon, but hundreds of yards ahead he could see tiny flashes. It was the mortars firing again. He and Bill ran along the hedgerow. They were invisible to both sides and covered the distance in only minutes.

  The mortars had been set up in someone’s side yard. The house was lit inside, the residents probably enjoying the show, Francis thought. He and Bill knew what to do without speaking and they made a wide circle around behind the bank of mortars. There were many soldiers gathered around the launchers. For the thirteen mortars that were set up, Francis counted twenty-five Nazis.

  “Shit,” he murmured as he and Bill hunkered down behind the side of the house.

  “There’s no time to dick around, we just have to get it done.”

  Francis nodded. “Geronimo style?”

  “Yes, sir. Only you stay back here. You’re a better shot with the Garand and I’ll need you to take out as many as you can.”

  Francis understood. He was a decent sniper, even though this weapon was more of a field combat rifle than a sniper rifle. “All right, let’s do it. Hit ‘em with the grenades first, then start running at them and they won’t have any idea what’s coming.”

  “Goddamn Nazi pricks.”

  Francis had two grenades and Bill had one. They coordinated the first throw and landed both grenades directly in the midst of the mortars. They went off with a spectacular explosion of light and then the next grenade was in the air. The moment it exploded, taking out three German soldiers as it did, Bill began his “Geronimo” charge.

  He sprinted directly at the group of soldiers, who were only thirty or so yards away. As he ran, Bill was firing his rifle into the group. Francis saw the soldiers start to fall as Bill ran at them. Francis trained his own weapon on one soldier, pulled the trigger, down. He repeated this several more times.

  The line of soldiers was broken and the mortars were disabled. There were still a dozen or so Germans left, and he and Bill were not about to let them escape. Bill had run out of rifle ammo and was chasing down two fleeing Nazis with his handgun out, screaming madly as he fired. He got the first one, and Francis took out the second with his rifle.

  “Around the house, Frankie!” Bill waved at him to double around the back of the house. Francis did so, crouching down and moving slowly through the dark. Sure enough, a second later another soldier came barreling around the house, probably searching for Francis, but got a face full of bullets instead.

  Francis could still hear Bill yelling out in front of the house. He shook his head. Bill was a madman. Francis was actually feeling better now, though. It was as if they needed this mad release of anxious energy and if it came at the expense of these Nazi bastards, then so much the better. Francis stood and walked around the rest of the house. He was almost to the front when he caught a glint of light from the corner of his eye. He slammed his body to the ground immediately, just as a bayonet was thrust into the air where his face had been.

  “Dirty German fucker snuck up on me,” he cursed. Francis was already pulling out his sidearm as he fell, and when he hit the ground Francis fired six rounds into the blackness where he had just been standing. He heard the satisfying thuck of bullets striking flesh, then the sound of a man falling.

  “Close but no cigar you Nazi shit.”

  Francis rounded the front of the house and came up on a sitting duck. A soldier was standing there with his back to Francis watching something. Then he realized the soldier had a long rifle drawn and trained on two figures running in the night.

  “No!” Francis yelled and leapt at the man, but he was not fast enough. The man squeezed off a round and one figure abruptly stopped and fell to the ground. Francis knew it was Bill. He brought the butt of his handgun down on the German’s cloth hat and sent him sprawling to the ground. The man Bill had been chasing started yelling and firing in their direction. Francis didn’t pay any attention. He kicked over the soldier he had knocked out and unloaded his full clip into the man’s face.

  Francis felt hot air snap around him as bullets from the advancing German started to come closer. Francis pulled the long KA-BAR knife from its side holster and then knelt down to wait for the approaching soldier. He would gut this bastard like a pig.

  Then, when he was done; he would take care of the residents inside.

  Chapter Nine

  Alice found her curled up in bed later that day. Delia was a wreck. All her life she had been able to keep herself contained, detached and clinical. It served her well on the farm, and made her an exceptional nurse. There was something about holding that young boy as his life drained away that took the last of her willful restraint and shredded it to pieces, leaving her feeling like a broken mess.

  Alice must have jimmied her door open, because one minute Delia was alone curled in the fetal position with nothing but her nightshirt on, and the next Alice was behind her, with a long arm draped over Delia, holding her tightly.

  “I know there was nothing I could do Ali,” Delia said very softly, “but it hurts just the same.”

  Alice said nothing at that time, only held her tightly. Delia felt Alice’s chest vibrating against her, and then she heard the muted sound of Alice humming softly. She didn’t know the tune, but it was soothing. Delia intertwined her fingers with Alice’s as they lay together. Alice’s body was giving Delia its warmth, and something far greater – comfort. It was only late afternoon but she drifted to sleep, and with Alice holding her tightly she slept well. When she woke up Alice was not there, but Delia could smell the coffee she must have been brewing in the kitchenette.

  A moment later Alice came back into the room with two cups of coffee. She sat delicately on the side of her bed, smiling as she offered Delia a cup, which she gratefully accepted.

  “So, I am still taking you out tonight.”

  Delia started to protest but Alice stilled her with a stern look. “You need to get away from here for a bit, and so do I. Fresh air will do us good.”

  Delia was hesitant but agreed. She still felt like she should be mourning the loss from this morning.

  *****

  Delia would remember that night forever, but not because of the tragedy that had befallen the young boy in the hospital earlier that day, but for a much more pleasant reason. She would forevermore think of that night as her and Alice’s first date.

  The city of Liege, Belgium, where their hospital was located, had endured destruction and economic collapse, as much of Belgium had under the German occupation. There was not a lot to do outside of the hospital. Only a few hundred yards away, however, was a tavern that was still doing business. Occasionally the doctors and nurses would go down to the tavern to enjoy the strong beer and chat with the locals, the few of them that spoke English anyway.

  This was where Alice took Delia for their date. The bar was lit with a great many hanging lanterns, but it was still dim inside. That suited the two young women just fine, and Alice found them a corner table set back away from the other patrons.

  They ordered beer and frites then sat back to just enjoy being away from work.

  “Are you sure Kate is going to be all right watching over the ward tonight?”

  “Relax, Delia, she will be fine. There is nothing happening that requires special attention tonight.”

  “I suppose we are just right down the road aren’t we.”

  “Exactly, so if the place starts to burn down, we’ll know right away!”

  “Not funny, Alice.” Delia said with a pout. Delia knew Alice was trying to keep the mood light, and she appreciated it.

  “So, Nurse Jensen.”

  “Yes, Nurse Koning?”

  “So how do you feel about being a nurse now? Is it what you expected?”

  Delia tilted her head in thought. “Aside from the
tragedy today with that boy, I like it. I like being able to help people.” Delia looked down at her hands. “I wanted to learn nursing so that I could have a decent career when I returned home. I wanted to have a good life. That’s really why I went to nursing school.” There was a strange hint of regret in her tone.

  Alice nodded. “And now? Nursing is still a good career.”

  “It is, but it’s also different than I expected. I thought I would be able to treat patients and move on without being any worse for the wear, but it seems like every person I see leaves a little piece of their story with me. It’s distracting.” Delia paused again, and again looked down at her hands, which she had begun to wring together. “I used to be pretty awkward.”

  Alice raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

  Two large beers arrived and the girls each took a few gulps.

  “I don’t really know a nice way to say it, but I didn’t really have a lot of feelings about things, or – people. I never had much empathy, I guess. That’s why I thought I could do this job so well.”

  “It’s tough to remain detached when you see the people every day isn’t it?”

  “It is, and I don’t think I want to be so – cold - anymore. I’m scared of all these new feelings I’m having.” Her eyes flitted up to Alice’s then back away.

  “I feel like there might be something else out there for me too, like I need to do something more.”

  Alice listened quietly.

  “You see, before I had a plan. I wanted to do my best and be successful, but that was it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a bad plan.”

  “Of course it isn’t. But now I look around at all the people we see come and go and the lives that they are living, or sometimes the lives that were cut short and I feel like I need to do more…living. Does that sound stupid?”

  Alice shook her head slowly as she stared at Delia. A cute little smile played at her lips. “I think I know what you mean.”