The pale fabric walls of the tent. The muffled sound of women's voices, soothing and praying. Sweaty hands touching cold foreheads. Loose, greasy curls stuck to her neck. The heat and humidity of Africa penetrated her walls and slowly crept its way into every nerve and fibre. It left its mark on her and now, in England in the sweltering summer, she felt like she was back in Africa. It was clear now; she would walk out of the tent and be greeted with dry air and she would go home and wash sand out of her ears and lose the fight with the grit that made its home in her hair. Snapping out of her daydream she looked down at her hands to see them clean, sparkling even, and holding an equally clean metal tray.
She had only one more patient to see for now. A young man with a swollen ankle. He smiled brightly as she pulled back the curtain and moved to stand beside his bed.
"Grace Mueller?" a voice came from behind her. She quietly put down her tray before turning around and being faced with an American soldier.
"Captain." She acknowledged the bars on his collar. One of them had to acknowledge the others rank, it may has well have been her.
"Captain Sobel," He said, holding his hands behind his back and gazing around the tent as if its very presence annoyed him. Grace could sympathize with his distaste. The tent was beginning to annoy her as well.
"First Lieutenant Grace Mueller, if we're going to continue drawing out the introductions."
"Yes, well, Grace. I understand you were stationed in Africa for six months."
"Yes, Captain, that is correct. You're not about to send me back, are you?" She tested the waters, giving him a playful half-smile. He merely looked at her like she was a martian.
"Colonel Sink, of the 101st Airborne, has requested your presence."
"And what would Colonel Sink of the 101st Airborne want with me?"
"I believe you'll have to ask him yourself." Captain Sobel said curtly, before giving her brief instructions as to how to find his makeshift office and then promptly leaving.
"I can't believe Sobel let you talk to him like that," the young man on the bed piped up from behind her.
"You know him?" Grace asked, cocking her head.
"My CO."
"Well lucky you," Grace chuckled before moving to inspect his ankle.
"You're telling me. Ow, fuck!" The young man grumbled, before quickly muttering, "Sorry ma'am. Pardon my French."
"Nothing I haven't heard before. I'm just going to wrap up your ankle, it's just a minor sprain. I'm not going to make you stay here but I don't want you on your feet for two weeks." Grace instructed as she wrote on her clipboard. "Understand?"
"You got it, ma'am."
"Now, I know your type and I can tell you're lying to me. At least wait a week before you disobey my orders, okay?" Grace gave him a small smile before leaning over to tightly wrap up his ankle.
"The name's George Luz, by the way."
"I'm well aware, George. I am the one who has been handling your charts."
"My smooth line's not working on you at all? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Grace couldn't help but laugh at his big puppy eyes.
"Go try it on the little blonde at the front. I think the only reason she's here is to find herself a nice young soldier." Grace paused as she reached over to her tray to grab a gauze clip. "You didn't hear it from me, though."
"What about you? Tied that knot already?"
"I untied my knot years ago. Up and at 'em George. You're free to go." Grace shooed him out the tent flap, not wanting to hear any more questions.
"The blonde one, you say?" George asked. Grace just nodded and winked before closing the flap. Perhaps she needed to instill some more professionalism into her work. She chuckled to herself, imagining how the conversation between George and Faye would go. Knowing Faye, her face would go bright red and she would skitter away nervously.
She allowed herself a smile imagining George's face when he realizes Faye is really the kind of girl who signed up to do good in the world. Grace knew Faye had no interest in relationships just yet, she was still young and had an idea in her head that made her think that she would instantly know when she found her man. Love at first sight and all that hokey.
Sighing deeply, Grace cleaned up the cot that George has previously occupied. Sheets were torn off and landed in a bin, new sheets promptly replacing them and corners being expertly folded.
"I'm going to have to run away for a few moments, girls," Grace said as she walked by Faye and Edith. They sat at a worn wooden desk that acted as a cheap imitation of a reception area. Faye's cheeks still held a pinkish tint.
"That means I'm in charge," Edith smirked over at Faye.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Grace chirped before walking out into the sunshine.
Aldbourne was a picturesque community. Rolling fields filled the horizon while shambling brick buildings completed the foreground, surrounding small squares of grass and cobbled roads. The steady sound of her footsteps against stone would be the backing track to her time in England. If it weren't for the groups of men marching in their uniforms, or being mercilessly drilled in the fields, you would almost think there wasn't a war on. The birds chirped loudly, trying to drown out the sound of orders being barked.
She felt almost nun-like in her long white dress and sensible shoes. Jimmy always bought her beautiful dresses that hugged her form and flowed around her legs. These uniforms, however, were starchy and held their form. She especially hated the hat that was propped on her head.
Venturing into the town further than she had ever been, which wasn't saying much since she'd been in Aldbourne all of ten days, she came upon the building that was meant to house Colonel Sink. Entering, she was greeted with a scrawny orderly.
"How can I help you, ma'am?"
"I was told Colonel Sink wanted to see me. First Lieutenant Grace Mueller," Grace added, perhaps that meeting would be initiated more promptly if he knew who was waiting for him.
"Right this way."
"You must be Grace." Colonel Sink said as he stood up.
"And you must be Colonel Sink." Grace said, wondering if she should sit down. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding when the Colonel gestured for her to sit.
"I've heard you've done a real good job shaping up the girls."
"I've been trying my best, sir. They've shown a massive improvement just in the last week, since I arrived in Aldbourne."
"Well it's been passed on to me that you're getting the attention of some very important people. You're being stuck with one of our companies. I want you to shape up our medics, teach them things that they'll need to know about being in battle." Colonel Sink flipped through some papers in front of him. A photo of her was paperclipped to the top of the stack. So apparently she had a whole file folder to herself, she mused.
"You were stationed in North Africa?" Colonel Sink asked, looking up momentarily from the papers in front of him.
"Yes, sir. Operation Compass. Later dropped into France for Operation Biting. And then, naturally, I was sent back to Africa." Grace found herself wiping the sweat off her hands and onto her dress. She always felt more confident when she was elbow deep in a dying man's torso than when she was getting grilled by some higher up.
"Impressive. Normally we wouldn't stick an unmarried woman with a company full of young men, but you being a widower, you know how it is." Colonel Sink casually continued flipping through her folder. Her hands gripped the fabric of her dress, holding tightly, as if it could keep her grounded somehow. Colonel Sink continued, "James Foss. Did he die in the war?"
Grace looked at him, puzzled. Could he not see the date in front of him? Jimmy died in 1939. She cleared her throat.
"Um, no, sir. He, uh…" Grace paused, wondering what he was expecting her to say, "He was killed, sir. Someone broke into our home."
"Well, you seem to me like a very brave woman."
"Thank you, sir."
"You will report to Captain Herbert Sobel tomorrow at 07:00 for PT. I want you to get to know the men. They'll respect you more and listen to you if they see that you're capable." He stood up, indicating that it was time for her to leave.
She took a deep, gulping breath of air the moment she set foot outside. Her hand reached for the building, grasping for the brick wall. The other hand shot up to her face, covering her mouth. For a moment she felt tears pricking the backs of her eyes, but quickly regained her composure. She felt absolutely ridiculous.
Straightening her dress, not that it could get any straighter, she walked back in the direction of the makeshift hospital. A cough came from behind her, catching her attention.
"You look like you could use some of this," the man said, holding out a small flask.
"I could, but I doubt it would look good for me to take a swig right outside of the good Colonel's office," Grace said, "But thanks."
"Is that where we are?" The man said, looking up at the building as if he were genuinely astonished that the unassuming building housed Colonel Sink. His dark features and thick eyebrows were very expressive. Or perhaps he was actually perplexed in that moment. Grace eyed him a little longer than she should've.
"Do you often wander around in a daze, drinking out of a flask?" Grace asked, wondering when would be the right moment to stop talking to this strange man.
"Do you often run out of buildings and look like you're about to start dry heaving?" If anyone else had asked her that, she may be offended. But the lighthearted way this man seemed to deal with everything, the raising of one eyebrow, and the slightest hint of a smirk somehow made it okay. It bordered on joke territory. "I'm Lewis Nixon, by the way."
"Flawless transition into the introductions, Lieutenant. I'm Grace Mueller." They shook hands as Nixon let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
"As you can see, I've always been very good at talking to woman. Just ask my wife. She loves it when I talk." He shook his head and took a pull from his flask. The mention of his wife put Grace off a bit, and suddenly she felt a desperate need to be anywhere but in that spot, talking to Lewis Nixon.
"Yes, well, how about you go practice your speech in the mirror, perhaps down a few more of those, and then you can try again," Grace said, realizing too late that her words had a bit too much of a bite to them. Nixon's facade seemed to crack slightly.
"The Colonel put you in a good mood?" Nixon asked, eyebrows perpetually being raised. Grace wanted to rip them off.
"Yes, I usually start dry heaving when I'm happy. If you'd excuse me, I have to get back to work…" Grace trailed off, looking in the general direction of the nurse's tent.
"Oh, yeah, work. Should probably do some of that myself."
Grace nodded politely, or as politely as a nod could be, and left Lewis Nixon standing in the street, nursing his flask. The sound of her heels clacking on the street and the rumble of blood rushing to her head were the only sounds she heard. Aldbourne had been nothing but the bearer of bad news for her. She wanted nothing more than to do her job. No more jumps. No more combat. But tomorrow, she would be training with Captain Sobel. At least the impish little man who had been in earlier would be there as well, George. She knew his type, he was just like Jimmy.