She did her round to make sure everyone was still okay. Mostly, what she saw were scared kids. For three days, nothing. And now they were stranded without the navy, which meant no supplies.
All day they dug and waited. She read and did rounds. She counted every bandage she had twice. She had Lewis's pack with her. They had enough medical supplies that she wasn't all that concerned. Then again, she hasn't had to use them.
Eleanor walked past Leckie and Jurgens' set up with the machine gun. Conley, Smith, and Phillips were there too. Sidney was taking a drink from a bottle of alcohol.
"Lieutenant Thompson," Jurgens called out. "Want some Jap wine left behind?"
She looked at the group of men in front of her.
"It tastes like donkey piss," Smith stated. "Ain't awful."
"I don't know what's more concerning about that sentence, the fact that you're saying you've tasted donkey piss or that donkey piss isn't that bad," she replied.
"So you're not having any?"
"Oh no, I am," she replied. She could use a drink… or ten.
Eleanor sat down in the sand and leaned on the sand bags. Sidney passed her the bottle. She took a swig and gagged at the taste. It was much too sweet for her liking. It felt like she was sucking on alcoholic candy.
"Jesus Christ."
She took another swig.
It was better than nothing.
"Smoking lights out!" Someone declared from down the line.
"Smoking lights out!" Jurgens passed along the message.
"Thanks for wine gentlemen," she said as she handed the bottle back and walked away. They were in blackout conditions which meant no smoking, no talking, nothing.
Sharing the foxhole with Sidney did lower her stress level significantly. He said he'd stay awake first which meant Eleanor actually managed to fall asleep for a little bit. She trusted Sidney Phillips, he was one of the few she did.
She was woken up by a bright light. Instinctively, Eleanor went forward to the other side of the foxhole and remained crouched, ready to spring in action if she needed to. She surprised herself at her courage. They hadn't seen true battle yet; she didn't know how she'd react there. But already, she lost her friend.
Sidney had crawled back over to where the mortar squad was.
"They're just trying to spot our positions, hold your fire," she heard Corrigan instruct the men in a loud whisper.
Eleanor exhaled but she didn't move from her spot. The light flashed in her eyes once more.
Stay still. Don't move.
Well, her two hours of sleep would have to be enough to get her through the next day.
They could see the Japanese battleships in the distance. Thousands of them. It felt like they had the entire island surrounded.
They moved to a new position on the Tenaru River. It was quickly renamed Alligator Creek because of the animal that lived in the water. They kept off the shore as to not antagonize the gators. They couldn't see any because of the intense heat. The back of her neck and her face burnt in the sun. In the long sleeved dungarees, her arms were protected, but the heat was unbearable. Eleanor rolled her up to her elbow, subsequently burning her forearms too. There was no winning situation here.
This time, Conley and Eleanor were sharing a foxhole. They weren't too far away from Smith.
Dearest Annie,
How are you? How is Africa? Is it warm there?
It's hotter than Hell here. It reminds me of the time we hopped on a bus to New York City and went to Coney Island. I remember standing by the Ferris Wheel, the sun beating down on us. I remember the sweat dripping down my back. I remember that you got hungry. We didn't have anymore money, so I tossed a hat and started singing and dancing.
That was when we decided to stay. You decided to become a nurse, and I was going to be some big star… How things have changed. I never thought I'd be out in some war surrounded by marines…
It wasn't what I thought it would be. War, for the most part, has been mostly sitting around and waiting. Had I known that, I would've brought another book. Ha ha.
But the horrors of war have not escaped me. I lost a friend two days ago. Do you remember that boy I told you about? The other corpsman? One night, he went out of his foxhole to go to the latrine but when he came back, the others got jumpy, thought he was a Jap and shot him. I tried to wash the blood away, but it's still stained beneath my nails. He was eighteen. I keep thinking that I want to write to his mother, but I don't know how to tell her that her son died because others got spooked.
Despite that, the jungle is beautiful. I keep hoping I see a monkey, but Robert Leckie, another marine and a sort of friend, keeps telling me they are not native to these parts. Mostly, I've seen birds and bugs. Mosquitos have been an issue. I hope there aren't too many infected with malaria…
"A Company's made contact three miles east," Corrigan announced as he swaggered by their foxhole. "Get rid of any letters with dates or addresses."
He looked right at her, eyeing the piece of paper in her hand. She had not dated the letter yet.
Eleanor folded the unfinished letter and tucked it away in her front pocket.
The light began to fade and Eleanor's anxiety came back. A Company had made contact which meant that any moment now there could be an attack. She thought back to the thousands of ships on the horizon.
"What about Queenie?" She heard Conley ask her.
"What?" Eleanor replied.
"We've been trying to figure out what to call you. Because Lieutenant Thompson sounds too formal for a friend," Conley explained.
"Conley, you do understand what my position here is, right? You get that if I don't have some kind of authority, no one will listen to me?" She asked.
"You don't need authority," Conley replied. "You need respect. That's how you get them to listen to you. We're friends, I'll listen to you. So will Lucky, Chuckler, Hoosier, Phillips."
"Phillips doesn't have a nickname," Eleanor pointed out.
"Lucky calls him Johnny Red."
"Queenie doesn't fit," she replied. Having friends would make this a whole lot less lonely. She'd lost Lewis already and it broke her heart.
"I guess we'll have to figure it out."
Growing up, the other girls at St. Mary's orphanage normally called her Clouds because they said her head was too often in the clouds, because she had dreams of grandeur. They weren't exactly the most creative bunch. Anna always told her not to care about what all the others thought.
You gotta fight for what you want in this world, Ellie.
She spent every day fighting to achieve her dreams, but those never happened. She never got the fame or the chance to be Clara Bow. But her life wasn't so bad.
"What high school did you go to?" Runner asked making conversation.
Eleanor froze. She didn't go to high school. She was taught in the orphanage. She left when she was sixteen to move to New York City.
"St. Mary's," Eleanor answered.
"Hm… I don't remember that one," he replied.
"That's because it wasn't a school," she answered.
Eleanor wasn't so sure why she didn't talk about it. It wasn't a secret. She wasn't embarrassed by it. But she kept it to herself.
"You're talkin' about the orphanage, huh?" Conley… Runner deduced.
She nodded. "I grew up there."
Maybe the reason she kept it to herself was to avoid the look of pity currently on his face.
"Quit looking at me like that," she told him. "I'm not some charity case."
"What happened to your folks?" He asked.
Eleanor shrugged. "Dad, I never knew him. I think he's dead… who knows. My ma… I barely remember her."
"I'm sorry."
"Why? I grew up just fine."
Blackout conditions went into effect as the sun went down. Eleanor's nerves once again shot up.
Conley… Runner, she would get used to calling him by the nickname, slept soundly beside her. She couldn't sleep at all. Instead, she looked up at the stars.
Be Thou my vision, Oh lord of my heart.
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Of the few memories she had of her mother, they were always filled with music. The old Irish hymn was the only way Eleanor could get to sleep when she was a girl. At St. Mary's, she used to hum it before going to sleep. She still did on occasion. But now, she used it as a coping mechanism for her anxiety. An attack was coming. She needed to be ready.
"There's movement."
The moment she heard it, she tensed.
She heard the rustling of the bushes.
And then the bullets.
SHIT.
Eleanor's eyes met Runner's. She allowed herself to be terrified for five seconds.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
"CORPSMAN!"
The bullets were tearing above her head. She crawled over the side of the foxhole and into the fire.
"CORPSMAN!"
I'm coming!
The adrenaline courses throughout her veins.
Eleanor covered her head as the bullets tore above.
Go Eleanor.
She kept crawling until for a moment she could get up and run. She zig zagged down the line towards the call.
Jesus.
Fuck.
Shit.
Every time a bullet flew by, she let out another curse word.
She made it to the call. It was a private from third platoon, Anderson. The kid had been shot in the side.
He was crying out in pain.
"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart," she assured him.
"CORPSMAN!" Another call came.
"CORPSMAN!" And another.
"CORPSMAN!" Another.
Jesus fuck. I'm one person.
Eleanor pulled the bandage out of her pack and then pressed it to his side. More bullets fired overhead.
"Shit!"
She had to get him someplace safe.
God help me.
She moved to grab him by the collar and then dragged him. She pulled him into the nearest foxhole.
"CORPSMAN!"
She grabbed Anderson's hand and pressed it on the bandage covering his wound. She wrote up the tag and stuck it to his jacket.
"Keep the pressure on here. I'll be right back," she promised. "You keep holding on."
She left Anderson behind and ran to the other call.
Once again, her heart pounded as she weaved through the battlefield. Along the way, she crossed paths with Leckie and Jurgens who were running with the machine gun.
The next wounded was Reynolds from second. Bill Smith was pressing on the wound. Reynolds's leg was practically hanging on by a thread. She knew he would lose it.
"Keep pressure up here."
Smith moved his hands. "The fuck took you so long!"
Eleanor ignored him as she applied a tourniquet above the wound. She covered the gaping wound as best she could and then stuck him with morphine.
"CORPSMAN!"
"Shit!" She cursed. "Help me drag him out of the line of fire!"
Smith nodded.
"CORPSMAN!"
I'm coming. I'm coming.
They dragged Reynolds to the closest cover made by sandbags. She wrote his tag quickly and stuck it on his nearly unconscious body. To their surprise, they found the Skipper quivering in the darkness.
"Skipper! Are you okay?" She asked as they put Reynolds behind the cover.
He said nothing as he whimpered. She walked over and tried to spot a wound but found nothing. Captain Jameson had simply lost it.
"Smith, get back on the line," she ordered.
"CORPSMAN!"
Eleanor took another look at Reynolds. He was still breathing.
She couldn't stop. There was one corpsman and who knows how many wounded.
Eleanor did not stop despite the haze of bullets. She could hear the sounds of explosions as the mortars landed on their targets. This was nothing like training. No matter how many simulations they ran, it would never compare to actually being shot at. The human race never stopped in coming up with new ways and reasons to kill each other.
Of course at that moment, Eleanor didn't contemplate such things. In fact, in that moment, she cursed out every Japanese soldier. She moved from marine to marine until finally, the shooting stopped. She could see the pinks and reds as dawn started to break.
After the battle, a few corpsmen from the aid station came to help.
By the end, when she saw that finally she had help, Eleanor ran back over to Anderson.
She found him still leaned up against the tree, but his hand had slipped away from his wound. His eyes were still open. His chest, still and unmoving. Eleanor knelt next to his body, knowing what she would find, but she had to make sure.
She was too late.
I'm sorry.
Eleanor closed his eyes and removed one of his dog tags.
It was one thing to have someone die under her hands. That was horrible. It something else entirely different to be the reason someone died. She should've made sure that he was stable before she left him. She should've been faster.
She moved over to lie his body down and then covered it with his blanket.
Eleanor heard footsteps coming behind her. She looked up to see Leckie standing there.
"Leckie, what can I do for you?" She asked.
"Lieutenant Corrigan wants to see you."
She did not want to talk to Hugh Corrigan right now. But she had to.
There were hundreds of dead bodies littering the beach. The smell was dreadful. They don't talk about this in movies, but when a person dies, their bowels and bladder release. It was even worst because of the sweltering heat. Death is not as glamorous as Hollywood makes it seem.
Dying is a dreadful business.
She found Corrigan crouched by the bank. He was with Captain Jameson, who was still shaking. Around her, marines and the corpsmen from the aid station were walking among the scores of dead.
"Doc, we got a live one," a marine called out when he saw her.
"I got it," another corpsman declared from next to her.
She continued on her way towards Corrigan.
He got up when he saw her approach.
"He's lost it," Corrigan told her. "I need you to confirm so we can have him relieved."
"Yes, sir," she said. She approached Jameson.
Then, there was an explosion. And then gunfire started once more.
Jameson paled once more and began quivering again. She looked up at Corrigan.
"Confirmed! Get him out," she stated before running off.
There were only a few Japanese soldiers came bellowing out. Leckie and Jurgen's machine gun began popping off again. Eleanor watched as the attacking soldiers were gunned down. All but one. The remaining soldier was shot in the shoulder, his rifle tumbled to the ground. He began to wail. He took off his helmet and threw it to the ground. He'd surrendered to his fate.
The other men in her company began throwing things at him and shouting obscene things. A few would shoot around him or hit his arms. The soldier stepped into the creek, wading through the water.
She watched the scene with a disgusted fascination as they kept taunting him. It was like he was a toy and the marines were bored children looking for entertainment.
Just end it, already!
And then a shot rang and struck the soldier in the chest. He slumped in the water dead.
Eleanor looked over to where the shot had come from and saw Leckie standing on the bank with his pistol raised.
"Hey! What the hell was that?" A marine called out.
Mercy. He was showing mercy.
Leckie looked over and saw her standing there. She gave him a small nod, telling him that he'd done the right thing.
Hope you all enjoyed it! I only have three more weeks of school and a mountain of homework but then I'm free to write. Let me know what you thought!