(Update: 1/31/11 - added a bit of background on Allen and Garnett. Also, best to read in 3/4)
(Update: 2/2/11 - replaced Larson with actually company captain's name, Dolgener)

September 11, 1942
Fort Bragg, North Carolina

"Larry James Allen, what're you doing with that?"

Fort Bragg's mess hall smelled of sausages and eggs. While Garnett and I ate the delicious goodness that the cooks were able to brew up on short rations, Allen came back with only a donut. Taking his seat across from us, he made a face; he always hated when I used his full name. 'Makes you sound too much like my mother,' he'd said to me before.

"Well, Ellie, Desola over there's got a bet going on that I can't fit it all in my mouth in one single try," he chided. Larry Allen would've been starting his first year of college; instead he joined the Airborne, with the permission of his father. His mother knew nothing about it, nor did his girlfriend that he'd been bragging about. He stood 5 feet 8 inches, a few inches taller than me and a few inches shorter than Garnett. As the youngest of the three of us, he still had a bit of a baby face and I considered him like a little brother.

"How much?" I asked. He replied with 6 dollars. Garnett and I looked at each other with uncertainty as Allen stood on his chair and announced to the entire mess hall what he was about to do. Now, I had to give it to him - the donuts at Fort Bragg were the size of a hockey puck, but just as hard as one. Everyone howled as his mouth slowly grew bigger and devoured the donut.

"I wonder what else you can fit in there," Garnett commented loudly with a snicker. A few others chuckled without Allen noticing the sexual innuendo. I only shook my head and continued eating my breakfast, looking forward to the conversation to follow.

"Hey, y'know, I'd be jealous too if I couldn't fit a donut into my mouth," Allen said in reply.

"But why would I want to in the first place?" the other half asked.

"Cause it's 'skill' and you obviously don't have it."

"It's called having a brain, Allen, and you obviously don't have one."

He patted Allen on the shoulder from across the table. Michael Jeff Garnett was the oldest, just a year older than me. He was just as witty and sly as Allen but kept a lot of things to himself, never mentioned his family or anything. The only thing he really brought up was how he spent his summers during college away from his hometown Paintsville in Paducah, Kentucky as a dock worker on the Ohio River.

The two smiled at each other. Anything said by either one of them could easily be understood by the other. They could never get mad at each other no matter how hard they tried. I looked over to Desola, his seat empty. The only ones occupying his table were Red Hartsock, Johnny Rivas, and Sam Corrion.

"Hey, Allen, looks like your 6 bucks got scared and ran away," I said, jerking my head at the table. Allen stood up, disappointed but quickly smiled.

"Well, damn, I guess I better hunt them down!" he yelled as he left the tent.

Garnett and I quickly finished our food. The three at Desola's table were long gone, and he was already late for PT. As for me, I wandered over to the medical tent to begin my day's work with Doc Gideon. Fox Company was short on nurses and medics so shifts were cycled: medics trained with T/3s for the four busiest days of the week, nurses assisted T/4s and T/5s for the last three. I was put on Thursday and Friday mornings to accommodate my airborne training.

The Army had gone overboard with these experimental projects. First, it was the Airborne division with men jumping out of planes. Everyone said it was outrageous, that it couldn't be done. They obviously did not expect women to willingly volunteer as Army 'combat nurses'. Someone high up in the Army must have been completely screwy to even suggest it. He believed that the combat medics could not suffice without assistants, without these nurses, and that his fellow soldiers should not be distracted from their job to help him in his. And in a crazy way, it made some sense.

After Pearl Harbor at the beginning of my senior year in college, our school had an assembly. A man and woman in khaki stood next to each other on the stage, both standing tall and rigid. The woman spoke first, discussing the many options that an average 20 something year old female student: WACs, WAVES, WASPs, USO, SPARs, American Red Cross, etc. Everyone around me whispered amongst themselves afterwards as she sat down. The man stood up next and went on about an experimental project: combat nurses of Airborne.

Of course, the girls had a good laugh over this. I remembered his stern, serious face. 'This is no joke, so I don't know why you're all laughing,' he said to them after they quieted down. His eyes directed themselves towards my way, making me feel as if he was talking to me. 'Ladies, if you're not as willing to risk your lives as your male counterparts, by all means, go join whatever Miss - mentioned. But for you gals who've got nothing to lose, I'll be glad to have you by my men's sides.'

That day I went to the recruiting center. My dad, my only parent he didn't know about what I did, nor did he care. He was more concerned about my brother, Antony, and how he failed the Army's physical test. I thought to myself, Hmph. I should be good with four years of nursing, and I'm in my best physical shape, too. This'll be no problem. Apparently, the requirements of a combat nurse were lower than that of a medic, and I wasn't expected to keep up with the others in basic training. 'As long as you can run the hell away from a Kraut and get to a wounded soldier on time, you'll be fine.'

It was decided, and he assigned me to 3rd platoon of Fox Company of the 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Bragg. Mouthful, isn't it? I met Larry Allen and Michael Garnett the day I arrived in June with a bunch of other combat nurse volunteers. Four of us were led by Captain Dolgener to a large field, where four platoons were seated. That's about 52 men staring at us as he introduced the new additions. There were wolf whistles and clapping among the crowd. I saw one of the nurses, a blonde, perk up and wave at them. The three of us just rolled our eyes, both at her and them.

'Combat nurses will share the title Doc, followed by their name,' Dolgener started with a loud voice. 'They are as follows: Doc Verna Moretti, 1st platoon; Doc Lisa Marie Esposito, 4th platoon; Doc Della O'Connor, 2nd platoon; and Doc Eleanor Durand, 3rd platoon.' He looked up over the clipboard. 'And men, don't even think about it. Lieutenant Colonel Cole will dishonorably discharge the both of you along with courts-martial. Any questions?'

A hand went up in the crowd, waving around like an eager schoolboy. 'Are you serious?' he asked. 'Yes, Private Allen, as serious as a heart attack.' Allen muttered to himself and the person next to him, and then his was thrown up in the air as well. 'Sir, can I challenge one of them to the obstacle course? Cause this is just too ridiculous.'

I was already tired of the questions, and the last bit ticked me off, so I spoke up before Larson could get a word in. 'Mister, we're not expected to be as good as you but I gladly accept your challenge.' There were ooh's and ahh's as Larson agreed to it, I guess, for fun. The obstacle course consisted of a high wall, a few hurdles and balance logs, a large ditch to swing over, pipes to crawl through, and finally barbed wire to crawl under. Being more agile than the man, I jolted over the wall and hurdles with ease. We didn't get to the pipes because I may have pushed him into the mud face-first.

'That's not fair!' he yelled with a mouth full of dirt. I stood victoriously on the other side while everyone laughed. Allen came in to help him up, patting him on the shoulder. I jumped in to shake his hand but instead he grabbed my whole body and fell back down with me. I couldn't help but laugh along. After we cleaned ourselves up, we formally introduced ourselves to each other and the three of us have been friends since then.

"Gaah, Ellie! Little help over here! He's too fat for me!"

Doc Gideon had disappeared off somewhere, leaving me by myself with two soldiers taking a nap. Allen just walked in, supporting Garnett who was pretty much limp. I walked over and put an arm under his to balance the weight, then led him over to a cot.

"Lieutenant Jackson's such an asshole," Allen said as he lowered his voice. "Garnett just strolled right into the formation just a few minutes late so Jackson made him run four miles instead of two. In full gear! By himself!"

I shushed him and gestured to the two soldiers. He nodded and moved toward the tent's entrance to avoid bothering anyone anymore. I started moving Garnett's feet and ankles in circular motions, but could see nothing wrong. "What're you doing?" Garnett asked annoyed. I took a quick look at Allen, who only shrugged. "Well, Allen brought you here," I told him, "and since you ran double your usual, I thought your feet or ankle or something would be hurt."

Garnett shook his head and laughed quietly. "Nothing hurts, I'm just fucking tired. I faked fainting just to get Jackson off'a my ass."

"Well, for one thing that fainting looked pretty real to me," Allen commented. Our tired friend could only give him a half-hearted middle finger. "But hey, at least you didn't lose your weekend pass. That would've sucked."

I let Larry go while Garnett stayed the night here in the medical tent. I wrote up a note to Jackson, explaining the 'injury', and fell on the cot beside Michael. I don't know how Larry puts up with him because boy, could he snore.