Looking had cost Bett her rhythm for a pace or two and she heard Rains call out from behind her, “Eyes front, Private.” Then she heard Moore yell, “Yeah, Limey loser.” Bett didn’t look but she could hear Moore and the other officers laughing. She thought about sticking out her tongue but decided that using her middle finger would more accurately convey her message, so she just extended the position of her outside arm and made the gesture quickly. But she hadn’t taken into account how much the motion of her arms helped her keep pace with the group, and a gap opened between her and the WAC in front of her.
“Dress that line, Private,” Rains warned, but it was too late. As the WAC behind Bett tried to adjust her pace to Bett’s change, the next girl back was unable to do so and she stumbled trying to avoid a collision. Rains brought them to a halt to the hoots and derisive calls of the officers sitting with Moore.
She turned the platoon to face the officers and kept them at attention as the jeering continued. No one moved a muscle as Rains walked up and down the line twice while the platoon suffered every insult that the officers could come up with. She then pulled Bett out and told Archer to run the remaining platoon members back to the barracks and then dismiss them for the rest of the day, giving them a rare afternoon off. Bett was quite sure that her cheeks were burning but she was able to keep her eyes on a distant spot somewhere while her sergeant stood in front of her.
“Private Symthe, you have embarrassed the entire platoon with your personal antics. Ten laps should help you practice some discipline.”
What Bett most wanted to say sounded childish, even in her own head. She started it. So she kept her eyes forward and answered, “Yes, Sergeant Rains.”
The rest of the group had quieted, but Moore’s voice carried over to them. “Told you there’d be trouble with that one, Rains.” Then, addressing the group around her again, Moore added loudly, “Takes one to know one, I guess.”
“Let’s go, Private,” Rains said tightly and they began to run toward the far side of the parade grounds and away from the laughter following them. As they began their first lap, Rains added, “You keep pace with me, no matter what. Understand?”
Bett didn’t, quite. “You’re running with me?”
Rains slowed, nodding her head. “I’m not confident that you will learn this lesson on your own, Private.”
Adding insult to embarrassment made Bett snap, “Oh, and you think you’re qualified to teach me, I suppose?”
Sergeant Rains sped up, to a much faster pace than the group ever ran. With some effort, Bett caught up. Just as she was wondering how long she could maintain their current speed, Rains slowed again.
“I am surprised that someone of your education would need to have this explained to them, but clearly you are not used to being offended.” Rains slowed almost to a walk and turned to look at Bett for the first time since they’d began running. “So yes, in this case I am qualified to teach you. When someone speaks of you unjustly, it reflects only on them—unless you respond in kind, in which case it reflects also on you.” She waited a few steps and when Bett didn’t respond, she added, “If you really intend to remain a WAC, you’re going to have to have a much thicker skin. Your individual behavior will reflect on the whole organization, whether you like it or not.” She resumed the regular step of a group march.
Bett followed Rains’s changes of pace without saying anything for a time. She found she was unable to argue Rains’s point and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Considering what Rains had revealed about her background, it was obvious she had had experience with injustice, and probably with insults as well. Bett was equally sure Rains wouldn’t want to talk about it just now, so she decided to try a different tack. “Sergeant, may I ask you something?”
“You may ask, but I reserve the right not to answer,” Rains said, speeding up.
Bett couldn’t help smiling. I think I’m detecting a pattern here. She speeds up for punishment and slows down for the lesson.
“When did you join the WAC?” Bett asked.
“Is that your question?” Rains replied, surprised.
“Yes.”
Rains relaxed the pace a bit. “I was in the first class ever. We arrived on July 20, 1942. And it was actually the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps at that time.”
“Of course.” They’d all gotten some background on the organization before they joined. “Your enlistment was quite historic, then. What was it like here at that time?”
“Very different. When the WAAC was created by the government, Fort Des Moines was not ready for the numbers who enlisted. The Army had planned for about twelve thousand total for the first year, up to twenty-five the second year, and so on. Instead, over sixty thousand women applied the first year. Our barracks at that time were former stables and many of the girls objected to the lingering smells. The building was drafty and they hadn’t had time to pave the road, so we marched in dust or mud.” She sniffed out a chuckle. “The coats they issued us were men’s sizes, so they were big and long”—the sergeant paused to look at her own lanky frame—“even on me.”
The image of Sergeant Rains being swallowed by a huge coat made Bett smile. “Given the conditions, it’s surprising more of you didn’t quit.”
“No, there was a great sense of commitment, an awareness of the importance of what we were doing. This was even more true for women who enlisted, than it was for the country in general, I think. And I believe most of those who join still feel that. But those of us who were already in the WAAC had the option to leave when it was converted to the WAC. Fewer than twenty-five percent did. And the change was a good one. Many more job options opened for us.”
While she spoke, Rains was running in different positions as well as at different speeds, sometimes behind Bett or on her left or ahead. Bett was beginning to feel the exertion when she heard Rains’s voice from behind her. “You run well, Private Smythe. Have you ever raced?”
“Raced?” Bett tried not to pant.
“Yes.” Rains was not the least bit winded. “Like track and field events in school.”
“Oh. Not really. I was too busy studying. And certainly not distance running, like this. I suppose I’m more of a sprinter, actually.”
“Are you fast?” Rain asked, coming up beside her.
Bett thought back to her childhood, how her brothers had never been able to catch her during their occasional games. She’d always been the fastest of her friends at Kent Prep and she recalled dashing across Oxford on numerous occasions to avoid being late for a tutorial. “Fast enough, I suppose. Why?”
“There will be an all-base race between squads and platoons on Friday. With each race, the winner advances, representing their squad in the next race. The winner of the final race gets a medal from the colonel. My squad has never won, and your group will be my last, so that’s why I was asking.”
Her sergeant’s voice sounded a bit wistful. “Who won when you were a private?” Bett asked, thinking she could probably guess.
“I did. But after the ceremony I gave my medal to the girl I last raced against. She faltered near the finish or she would have beaten me.” Rains looked away, as if remembering.
Bett could sense there was something more that Rains wasn’t saying. After a moment, she asked, “What caused her to falter?”
Rains turned back and looked at her directly. “I believe that someone from my unit said something to her before the race. Like what Sergeant Moore said to you today, only much, much worse and more threatening. The other girl was in a colored unit, in the Nurses’ Corps. They only let her race when I refused to continue without her participation.” Rains lifted her head slightly. “That cost me laps for two weeks, and they haven’t done it that way since. But it was the right thing to do. After that day, we became friends. Her name is Evelyn. That’s how I came to know Mel and Gracie. She is their niece and was living with them before she enlisted.”
Although Bett was intrigued by the account, it was the distant hurt
in Rains’s eyes that caused her to stop paying attention to their laps. Those last words sounded almost…personal, she thought.
But the sergeant seemed to detach herself from the story as she stopped, exactly where they had started, and announced, “That’s twelve, actually. We’ll walk a cool-down lap.”
“So was your sergeant angry with you when you gave away the medal?” Bett wanted to keep her talking as their pace slowed.
Rains snorted. “I believe that is what they call an understatement.”
“What was your sergeant like otherwise?”
“Like Sergeant Moore,” Rains said briefly.
“Really? You have my sympathies. And I shudder to think that there are two of them out there.”
Rains cocked her head. “I apologize. That seems unnecessarily deceptive on my part, but I answered the question the way you asked it. Sergeant Moore was my sergeant.”
“Oh.” Several things fell into place—Rains’s sensitivity to the underdog girls, the way her strict formality could give way to a gentle nature when needed. Bett thought of how Rains had brought Sergeant Moore along when she’d had to deal with Irene Dodd. She knows Moore’s strengths and weaknesses and tries to be everything that Sergeant Moore isn’t, Bett thought. And she succeeds. “Then I sincerely apologize for today. You’re quite right that I shouldn’t have responded. But what did she mean by it takes one to know one?”
Rains seemed to be considering her answer. Her eyes scanned Bett’s face for a moment as they walked along. “The Army was a different kind of life for me,” she said finally, “as it is for you. But not the same kind of different.” Bett nodded. Oddly, that statement made perfect sense. “Sergeant Moore and I didn’t always see eye to eye on how I would fit into this new life. As you and I don’t always see eye to eye on how you are fitting in here now.”
“But, Sergeant”—Bett couldn’t help smiling as she touched Rains’s arm—“you know I like you and I believe you like me, too. I can’t imagine you and Sergeant Moore had a similar relationship.”
“Liking has nothing to do with it, Private. I learned to show respect to Sergeant Moore because she was my superior officer. And that is what I expect from you.” As usual, she moved away and Bett let her hand drop. “Are you interested in the race?”
“But I don’t know anything about that kind of running.”
Rains eyed the distance to the bleachers. “Race me to the reviewing stand. If I think you can win against the other squads, I will coach you.”
Bett took off like a shot. Rains closed in on her about fifteen feet from the bleachers and won, but not too easily.
“Fast and sneaky,” Rains appraised her coolly. Bett was panting and grinning. “We can work the rest of this afternoon and tomorrow after lunch. The race is Monday. It’s not a lot of time, but adequate if you are good enough.”
Sergeant Rains took her back to the middle of the parade grounds. “The race is usually won or lost at the start. Your first five steps will likely determine the outcome, so we will look at this to begin.”
She watched Bett through three practice starts, and then talked to her about footwork. During the process, Rains adjusted Bett’s stance by gently turning her shoulders. Occasionally she would put her hand briefly on one of Bett’s legs to draw her focus to a point about how to move. Bett was genuinely trying to concentrate, but every time Rains touched her, her body hummed as if caressed and she wanted more. More than once, she deliberately made a misstep so the sergeant would correct her with that firm hand. But after five more starts, Bett felt as though she actually understood what Rains was trying to show her and was able to move her feet consistently as the sergeant instructed. She hoped the next lesson would involve more touching. This kind of intimate contact with Rains was exactly what she had been craving.
She thought she was being too obvious when Rains said, “You seem distracted. I am probably talking too much. Let’s run an easy lap and then we can talk about the finish for a moment.”
Bett merely nodded and they trotted around the parade grounds. Bett almost didn’t trust herself to talk, but she was still curious about Rains’s initial Army experience, so she asked, “So when did you become a drill instructor?”
“That was the path I chose when I finished basic. As you have chosen to work in the wireless communication group.”
“Why was that your choice? I would think after your experience with Sergeant Moore you wouldn’t want anything else to do with basic training.”
“Actually, it was my experience with Sergeant Moore that made me want to work with new recruits. Thinking of some of my own…difficulties, I thought I could be helpful to girls who might be having similar problems adjusting to their new life in the Army.”
“But it couldn’t have been Moore who suggested that to you.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Bett could tell that Rains didn’t want to go on.
Bett turned to Rains as they walked. “Look, Sergeant, I think you should know that I’ve never gone back to the barracks and talked about anything that’s gone on between us.” Bett couldn’t help adding, “I’m very discreet.”
Rains looked a bit uneasy. “I’m not sure what you mean, Private.”
“I’m just selfish, if you want to know. I very much enjoy talking to you and I don’t want to share our conversations with anyone else.”
There was a pause and then Rains spoke slowly, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say. “I have often enjoyed talking with you also, Private Smythe. And I am glad that you are on our side.”
“What?” It was Bett’s turn to be confused.
“It seems to me that you are very good at getting information, so it’s a good thing that you are in our army and not a spy.”
Although her sergeant’s mouth was still serious, Bett saw some amusement in Rains’s eyes. Bett took a few more steps and then stopped. “You are teasing me, Sergeant Rains!” she said, laughing. “And I wouldn’t have thought an unwilling subject like yourself would have noticed my clever interrogation tactics.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Rains stopped also, her tone still light. “You are quite pleasant to be around when you are not arguing.”
“Could I say the same for you?” Bett bantered.
“No. I don’t argue. I’m just stubborn—according to those who care to analyze such things.” The sergeant’s answer interested Bett even more.
“And who would care enough to do such a thing?”
“The same person who recommended I become an officer,” Rains answered with a deliberate tone to her voice.
“And of course, you’re not going to tell me who that was.”
“Not even under torture,” Rains said, teasing again, but folding her arms across her chest in a pose of self-protection.
Bett could envision her ideal response to that. She would put her arms around Rains’s neck and bring her lips so close to Rains’s mouth that their breath would mingle. There are many different kinds of torture, Sergeant, she would say, waiting for Rains to kiss her. And she would. Although Sergeant Rains continually rebuilt the wall between them, it seemed a little less high each time. And even if Rains would not want to admit it, there was a special familiarity between them now. The sergeant would never have used touch to instruct her during the first weeks of basic training, and Bett was certain that she could feel Rains responding to her in increasingly physical ways. Knowing she possessed a certain beauty, Bett had complete confidence in her own appeal. She had never been turned down, particularly by someone she really wanted—at least not for long.
In real life, however, Bett knew that while she probably could get Rains to kiss her, she would get transferred out of the squad the next day. Or Rains would be so horrified by her own behavior she would never speak to Bett again. So she settled for just saying, “There are many different kinds of torture, Sergeant,” and leaving it at that. She did sway her hips just a little more as she walked back toward the bleachers. Halfway across the field,
she turned back. Rains was watching. That’s what I thought, Bett confirmed to herself. “Are we going to talk about the finish?” she asked innocently.
“Oh yes.” Rains cleared her throat and jogged over, drawing a line in the dirt with her foot. “Pretend this is the finish line. You need to practice staying in balance while leaning forward, because you want to lean across the line. Not fall, but lean.” Rains made the motion. “Like you are running to hug someone, but your arms will be behind you, not in front.”
They practiced the finish-line lean several times. Twice, Bett leaned too far and stumbled forward until Rains reached out her arm and caught her. Bett’s momentum spun Rains a quarter turn until they were facing each other.
Bett giggled. “Why, thank you, Sergeant.”
“My pleasure,” Rains replied. But when their eyes met for just a second, Rains let go of her immediately.
It was starting to get dark as Rains watched Bett run again. “You have a nice stride. Swift and sure. My only correction is that you are bringing your arms up too high. Drop your shoulders. Relax.” She ran along behind Bett and when Bett’s arms came up too high, she touched Bett in the armpit.
Bett jumped away laughing. “Stop that, Sergeant.”
“Why? Are you ticklish?” Rains asked in a devilish voice.
“Nooo.” Bett sounded completely unconvincing, even to herself.
“Well, you’d better keep those arms down, or you will get tickled every time,” Rains warned, wiggling her fingers.
“You’ll have to catch me first,” Bett said and sprinted away, using Rains’s quick start method. I think that actually does make me faster she thought, but after a few yards she felt Rains’s fingers slip into her armpit. Bett couldn’t run at that pace and laugh at the same time. She stopped so abruptly that Rains ran into her and they fell to the ground. Bett was on her side, away from Rains who was still tickling her from behind. “Dress that line, Sergeant,” Bett said, between gasps of laughter.
Basic Training of the Heart Page 17