Normandy
June 1944
I sit by the open flap in the covered bed of the transport. I am thankful for the chance to catch the fresh morning air. It is worth the heart rending view of a land cut up by invasion.
"Where are you from, Toye?"
I glance across at Florence Wilkins, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed beneath her helmet. Her hand hangs delicately in the air, a cigarette poised between her fingertips. Despite our dour surroundings, she looks fit for a movie screen. Her red lips part as she attempts a grin, though there is no friendliness in it.
"Pennsylvania."
"What does your daddy do?" Her southern drawl lends a softness to her vowels.
"Coal mining."
I meet her dark eyes with mine. We all know Wilkins is as rich as Midas. What she is doing here tending the wolves in the midst of active combat is beyond us. None of us have asked either. I don't see her as being worth the effort of getting to know.
"Thinking of going into the family business after all this?" She asks drolly, tapping the ash from her cigarette out the edge of the bed.
I ignore her, leaning forward on my knees.
"What is that smell?" The shrill cry of a girl in the front goes up.
I peer out in time to glimpse a rotting pile of horse corpses fermenting in the hazy sunlight. Though the mess is a good few feet from the road, the stench is all-pervading. I can almost feel it coming out of my eyes.
"Horses for warfare? In this day in age?" Florence scoffs, "Kraut ingenuity right there, ladies."
My gaze trails towards a group of men, cloths tied around their mouths and noses as they dig into the French farmland. There is an American GI watching them with his Thompson at the ready. I know I am seeing a group of German POWS. They are nothing like the cartoonish buffoons being shown in theaters back home. Their gaze is rank with apathy as they savagely tear into the sod. One of them makes eye contact with me. The soldier is about Joe's age. My attention shudders away to the cloud glazed sky. Joe dropped in on D-Day and I have yet to receive news; bad or good.
"That one took a liking to you, Toye." Florence purrs, flicking the cigarette butt into the open air.
"Don't be stupid, Wilkins." I snap before I can stop myself, "Why don't you fix your lipstick or something."
Florence's round eyes widen at my hostility. However, I am surprised to see a true smile erupt on her heart shaped face. It's a first since meeting her nearly six months earlier.
"Will do, darlin'." She winks, digging a lipstick tube from her coat pocket.
Fighting a grin in return, I lean against the metal railing behind me. I close my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. However, sleep is impossible.
The first shock of blood is the worst but I acclimate.
I work silently at the quivering mass of muscle and tendon hanging like the distended roots of flowers to the man's thigh bone. Wilkins finds his artery and clamps it. Soon, the individuality of the soldier disappears. Like Hamlet in the graveyard, all I see is so much meat.
After he dies, I step away from the stretcher laid out on a dining table. Florence is gasping as though she's been held underwater. I feel her desperately trying to catch my eye as I stare into the man's grey face. Florence reaches over and shuts his glassy stare.
"Let's have a smoke." I wipe my hands on my apron.
Florence follows without a word out the side door of the Aid Station. She hands me a cigarette and lights it before her own. Taking a moment to let the smoke flood my chest, I study the courtyard slowly filling with soldiers. As I study them, I realize with a jolt that I am looking at paratroopers.
"Bill Guarnere." I let out a smokey chuckle.
"What?" Florence tries to find my line of sight.
My brother's friend removes his helmet, squinting in the pale light as he rubs a grubby hand through his dark, matted hair. He sees me before I can say anything.
"Well," He smirks, approaching with his swaying south Philly strut, "If it ain't Ruthie Toye. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
Pulling me into a side hug, I try to keep from smearing gore on him. After another look at his filthy uniform, I realize it wouldn't have mattered.
"And who is this?" He smirks, giving Florence a wink.
"This is Florence Wilkins." She lifts an eyebrow, "And way above your paygrade, son."
"A feisty broad, huh?" Guarnere's strong jaw loosens as he openly admires her.
"Bill, have you seen Joe?" I interject, intently studying the crowd of men.
"Not since before Carentan but I'm sure he's here somewhere." Guarnere drops a heavy hand on my shoulder, "We got an eye on him, doll. Don't you worry."
A jeep pulls into the yard with a man laid up half conscious on the hatchback. Bill peers over in its direction.
"Holy shit, it's Lip." He grumbles.
"Nurse!" A paratrooper calls out, hopping out the jeep.
Bill races over with Florence and I. The two men take the sides of the stretcher and lift the wounded soldier out of the vehicle.
"What happened?" I ask walking alongside the man.
Florence takes his hand on the other side while I lift his eyelids to study his pupils.
"Explosion threw him back pretty good." The other soldier explains as we carry him into the Station.
"Took some shrapnel to the face." Florence observes as they set him down on an unused cot.
She bites her lower lip and meets my eyes. There is a heavy blood stain near the man's groin, a little too close for comfort from the looks of it. The other paratrooper grips my arm as I slowly stand. I meet his mossy hazel gaze; still wild from the cruelty of heated combat.
"I already checked for him." He explains, immediately knowing our concerns, "Everything is where it should be."
I nod mutely, "I'll go find a medic."
After making sure the Sergeant is well looked after, I return to the cacophony of the cobblestone bailey. I am desperate, hoping I see Joe in the crowd and also hoping I won't in case he's been hit.
"So Guarnere says you're Toye's sister."
With a brief glance over my shoulder, I see the soldier that brought in the Sergeant from my brother's company.
"Is he okay?" I ask as he comes up alongside me.
"Doc says he'll be just fine." He runs the back of his hand over his grimy forehead.
"Good, I'm glad to hear it." I answer, scanning the men once more, "I'm Ruth.
"Floyd Talbert, it's nice to meet you-"
I barely register his self-introduction as the weary figure of my older brother trudges into the yard. Without a second thought, I stride towards him. His doesn't swing his heavy gaze towards me till I am nearly in front of him. Without a word, I clasp my arms around his torso. The events of the day thud into my chest and I find myself fighting tears as he returns the embrace.
"Ruthie," He says, his familiar low growl making the ache in my throat pound, "Ruthie, honey. When did you get here?"
I pull away with a deep sigh, wiping my damp face with the heels of my hands, "This morning."
"Come here." He gives me another squeeze with a kiss to the top of my head.
The tightly wound knots around my heart loosen. I feel like I can breathe again. Taking a step back, I manage a grin. His dark eyes are hemmed with smoky remnants of exhaustion and his mouth, though smiling, is pulled tight. I can't imagine what it's been like for him.
Guarnere and Floyd Talbert come up alongside us, warmly shaking hands with their comrade.
"I had no idea you had a sister, Toye." Floyd comments with a side glance in my direction.
I see his Adam's apple bob as Joe turns his brooding attention on him.
"Yeah," He answers, his head tipping back as he levels him with a glare, "What of it?"
"I just- I didn't know." Talbert replies, rubbing the back of his neck and turning his eyes to the ground.
"Ruthie is a good girl." Joe reaches out and grips the back of my neck affectionately, "She's smart. She's going places. And not with you, Talbert. Catch my drift?"
I clench my jaw with a pointed stare to Joe. Brushing his hand away, I hear a strained call for a nurse.
"I need to go." I state with a nod towards my brother, "I'll try to see you before you head out."
"I'll try to let you know when we do, don't worry." Joe motions in the direction of the Aid Station, "Go save some lives, Ruthie."
