Europe, 1914, is in a state of war…
I stepped easily off of the chartered steamship that I had taken from Long Island, New York to Newhaven Harbour, England. The sharp, cold wind bit at my face, and my scarf fluttered before settling once more. I didn't have much, just one trunk half filled with clothes and the other half equipment. The date was November 5th, 1914, and 'The Great War' as it was being called was just getting started.
I lifted my skirts as I descended off of the port city's dock and allowed myself a brief look around. The buildings were packed tightly together, and height ranged from three to six stories each. It was nothing compared to the city of Manhattan, where buildings didn't survive unless they were ten levels or taller.
I didn't make a habit of traveling, but because of the war, the soldiers of Europe were going to need all the help they could get. I was a doctor, you see. Yes, one of the first registered female doctors in the world. Many people in America looked down upon me for being an educated woman trying to find work in a man's world. Practices of other physicians refused to hire me, even. But now, I wouldn't be denied a job. Not when doctors were in desperate need.
Trench warfare was not a trivial battle where stuffy men on horses with Calvary swords shouted orders to their inferiors. No, it was an 'all in this to die together' sort. A deadlier sort.
In a few short days, I would be back on a boat, this time headed directly for a hospital closer to the injured, in France. There was no saying when or if I would return. But I didn't have much to return to anyway. I deserted my family when I was seven, to get away from the abuse that plagued my childhood home, and was taken in by two men who ran a sort of 'camp' for children and teens. Theirs was a rough friendship, considering one (called Mr. D by the campers) did not want to be there at all. The other, however, was a man entitled Chiron. He was given his name after the Greek hero trainer, and the name was fitting. Chiron was the one who taught me to be a doctor, as he had been one himself. The one who gave me my papers proclaiming me a doctor. The one who taught me to shoot a rifle in case I was ever in trouble.
He was the true father figure in my life, and I was saddened to have left him in New York. Even knowing the risks of what I was volunteering to do in the war, he supported my decision, promising to write as soon as I arrived at my final destination: Boisleux-au-Mont, France. It was a Central Clearing Station set up by Canadian forces. It was there heavily wounded soldiers would be treated before being shipped off to a base hospital further away. The lesser injuries would be treated and then those men would be sent back. It was not a 'long stay' sort of place. And it would always be busy, which was why they needed a better staff at that location.
I had first gotten my high school education at a small private school near Camp. It was something I had to work hard for. Women weren't always expected to get a secondary education, so when I got the chance, I took it. Then I attended Chiron's classes at a small university. I was the only woman in the medical classes.
I took a deep breath and started down the street, walking carefully on the rain-drenched bricks of the sidewalk. I had memorized the address of the doctor and nurse call station, so all I had to do now was find it. The dreary lighting from the overcast sky made it difficult to read the numbers on the buildings. I had a hard time with reading sometimes. The letters seemed to switch and I couldn't make them out. Different languages were easier than others though. I should know, I could read and write in four different dialects. English, Greek, French, and Italian. I wished I could speak in others, like German and Russian, but my days of sitting and learning were over. There was work to be done.
Finally, I happened upon the dismal building. The mortar was crumbling around the brownish bricks, and the wooden steps up to the door were beginning to decompose because of the weather and too much use. It didn't matter though. I set down my heavy case and knocked briefly on the door. It was opened not five seconds later by a beautiful girl about my age. Her tan skin told me that she was not from here.
"Come in," She welcomed, stepping back so I could slip past into the building. We both sat on the bench inside the mudroom, and waited for our names to be called. It was standard procedure to have and interview to verify documents and credentials that allowed most women to practice nursing. Or to be a doctor, in my case. I immediately got out my folder from my trunk, and placed it safely on my lap.
"My name's Piper." The beautiful girl told me. "What's yours?"
"Annabeth Chase." I said, extending my hand to hers to shake it. She didn't say a last name, so I asked. "No surname?"
Piper's face flushed. She answered, "No."
I only nodded in reply, no questions further.
"I suppose you're here for a nursing position?" Piper made conversation. Her slight French accent threw me off at first, because her coloring was completely different than that of a natural French lady.
"Doctor, actually." I responded. I suppressed a smile. I was proud of myself.
Her face lit up, "Really?!"
"Yes." I replied.
She sighed, "I wish I could be a doctor!"
"Well, you're already a nurse, correct? It's only a few more years of schooling." I told her.
"I was barely allowed to go through with basic nursing," She confided. "My father fought me every step of the way."
"Your father must be very old fashioned in his ways." I said.
Her eyes widened, as if she wasn't supposed to say something. "You have no idea."
Piper's unease to tell me specifics made me uncomfortable and curious. But then again, I wasn't ready to release all of my secrets either. My family's heritage was nothing to be proud of. An absent mother, uncaring father, and a stepfamily cruel enough to forget about a seven-year-old daughter…I bit my tongue to stop the disliking emotions cross my face.
The door at the end of the hallway opened and admitted a blonde man with bright blue eyes. He was young. Younger than me, even, and I was only eighteen. He had to be sixteen, at most. He was too young to have enlisted, but from his countenance, he probably didn't want to.
The lady behind the door checked her clipboard, then called my name. I stood, leaving my trunk on the floor, and made my way towards the woman. Just as the blonde teenager reached the door the woman spoke again.
"Dr. Solace." She said and he turned. "Meet Dr. Chase. You two will be working together in a few days, so you'd better become friends."
I rolled my eyes and Solace gave me a smile. He seemed to be a cheery man, well, boy. He held out his hand, saying, "Will Solace."
"Annabeth Chase." I smiled back. It was nice to see a happy face in such dark times.
"A pleasure to meet you." He said, his English accent a stark contrast to mine. I replied, "Same to you."
"You're an American?"
"Is it obvious?" I asked, grinning.
"You're accent gives you away." He checked the time on his watch. "I must be going. I've made other arrangements that I must attend to."
I nodded, "Well it was very nice to meet you. I suppose I'll be seeing you in the field."
"Yes." Will agreed. "Good day."
He was out the door without another word. I thought about that phrase 'good day'. The circumstances being as they were, one could hardly say it was a 'good day'. Not when so many soldiers were out there fighting. That idiom which seemed so normal no longer was.
I turned and faced the strict looking woman who still stood in the doorway gripping her clipboard. I nodded politely and stepped into the large room, where a panel of four people sat waiting. I felt a surge of discomfort rush through me, as if these people were here to judge me. Two men and two women, not counting the lady who showed me in. (She took her place sitting down at a wooden desk, proceeding to take notes about Lord knows what. The others were seated on dainty, though well-worn, furniture, and a fire roared in fireplace along the back side of the wall.
"Have a seat, Dr. Chase." One man said. I followed his instruction and sat down in the only chair left available. He continued on to say, "My name is Andrew Williams, and this is my wife Gloria."
He acknowledged the woman beside him. She rolled her eyes, but they crinkled at the corners, telling me that she had lived a happy life, at least up until now. The other lady cut in.
"And I am Mrs. Sherringford. Giana Sherringford, to be precise." Her voice was distinctly proper, as if she looked down upon everyone. I didn't mind it, actually. I could relate to trying to make a place for yourself in a male dominated world.
She went on, "This is retired Dr. Albin Greenberg. He has agreed to verify all medical certifications, so would you please hand yours over to him."
I handed him the folder. Dr. Greenberg was clearly the oldest person in the room, and I was the youngest. I sincerely hoped he didn't have anything against qualified young women, otherwise we would have a problem. I watched as he carefully put down his pipe in the crystal ashtray and picked up an old-fashioned magnifying glass. I contained a smirk slightly. Dr. Greenberg reminded me all too well of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. I had read his mysteries since I was a child.
I returned my attention to the middle-aged man and women. They surely had questions for me. I just hoped I wouldn't have to go too detailed into my past to answer them.
Mrs. Sherringford began, "When and where were you born?"
"I was born July 12th, 1896, in Virginia, United States of America." I was sure to keep my answers short and concise, neither telling the more nor less than what they asked to know.
"And your parents, who are they?" Mr. Williams cut in. Mrs. Williams rolled her eyes at him again, smiling innocently at me.
"My father is Frederick Chase, he is a professor of American and Military History. He was born in Boston, Massachusetts, then moved to Virginia, and finally moved to San Francisco, California, which is where he is now." I told them, part of me hoping they would be satisfied. I knew they wouldn't be, however.
"And your mother?" Mrs. Sherringford questioned.
"I never knew my mother, ma'am." I replied.
"Did she die?" She asked bluntly, not caring if she came off as standoffish—which she did.
I answered, "Not to my knowledge. I was left on my father's doorstep when I was only a few weeks old."
Mrs. Sherringford turned her nose up at me, disgust written all over her features. "So you're an illegitimate child, are you?"
I gave her a pointed look. "I do not consider any person to be 'illegitimate'. That word implies criminality, which I have never partaken in."
No one else was asking any questions now. It was evident that not many people would stand up to Giana Sherringford, but I would keep my ground. Some people just had to learn that the world is a forever changing place, and narrow-minded opinions only held back progress.
Dr. Greenberg interrupted the silence to everyone's relief.
"It says here in your papers that you moved to Long Island, New York when you were seven, which contradicts what you told us about your father's residence. Care to explain?" His tone was not rude or uncaring. Quite the opposite, in fact. He genuinely seemed to be concerned in a fatherly way.
So I told him, "I moved to a camp when I was seven, which is where I have lived since."
"What was the 'camp' called?" Mrs. Sherringford wondered aloud. She still wasn't pleased with me.
I confidently answered. "Camp Half-Blood."
"A fitting home for a dirty-blooded child." She said under her breath, but everyone heard her. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. I decided to make her more uncomfortable by telling her about my home, and about the amazing man who raised me.
"Despite what you may think, Mrs. Sherringford," I began. "I refuse to feel inferior just because of my unknown lineage. It is not where we come from that defines us, but what we make of ourselves.
"You will notice that I sustained perfect marks in all of my classes, and that my medical performance papers are more than adequate. The man who ran the camp—yes, he is a man—would stand for nothing less. You see, the world is changing, and if you are going to send away a qualified doctor who could help your wounded soldiers for the sake of your pride, then I will have to proclaim you to be one of the most selfish people on this planet." I finished my little tirade with a dignified look towards everyone in the room.
Mrs. Sherringford, growing ever the redder, started her own speech, "Why you little—"
But she was cut off by Dr. Greenberg. "Mrs. Sherringford! I think we have all had enough of your discriminations for one day. Our young men are out there fighting for us. If we deny them the medical treatment they need, who is there to argue that we, ourselves, are not treasonous? Dr. Chase proves a good point here, and she has my permission stamped on her papers already. Are there any objections?"
He was met with none. He had stunned her into silence.
Shuffling my papers back around, he gave me my folder back, saying, "The address of the provided lodging is in the papers. Your badge of identification will be given to you in two days hence, whereupon you will board a steamboat heading for Paris. Next is a train that you will take to your final destination. Good luck, Dr. Chase. Godspeed."
"Thank you, sir. May God help us all." I stood from my seat and exited, the adrenaline rush from the short interview wearing off immediately. I heaved a silent sigh as soon as I stepped into the mud room where Piper was still waiting. She looked tired, but was ready with her papers as her name was called.
"Piper McLean."
My eyes widened. No wonder she didn't want me to know her last name. Her father was one of the richest men in England. In the world, perhaps. Almost everyone in this country knew his name because of the propaganda being produced for the war effort. Not unlike America's Uncle Sam, her father must have been the face of the propaganda mission.
I glanced over to Piper, her face flushed because she knew that I knew. Before entering into the meeting room, she said, "Annabeth? Can we just keep this to ourselves?"
"Of course," I replied. She and Will Solace were going to be my only two friends on the first day. Of course I could keep one measly detail safe. She entered the room and the door closed with a soft click. I collected my meager belongings and stepped outside once more. I pulled out the lodging address after I set my trunk on the street. After deciding my direction, I picked up my trunk, ready for the beginning of my next adventure, certain that this quest would hold more dangers and terrors than the last.