July 9th 1945 – St. Alban's Military Hospital, Long Island, New York
"Good morning Private Smith, I'm Head Nurse Claire Rousseau… Nurse Levinson thought maybe I should come by," Claire explained.
Claire looked much different than she had when she first left Austria. When she arrived in England before taking a plane, she was brought into some colonel's office and lectured about how she was going back into society which meant she had to start 'acting like a proper lady' once more. She nodded, agreed but suppressed laughter.
Now, Claire Rousseau wore a white nurses' uniform dress and cap. Her black hair was now styled and curled every morning hung just above her shoulders. She had a pair of real nylon one stockings, and kept her lips painted red. She certainly looked the part of a lady. If not for the scars under her eye and on her jawline, no one would ever expect she'd gone to war.
However, despite her appearance, there were certain things about her personality that she couldn't make 'lady-like'. Claire was cold… often distant from her staff and patients. She'd earn the name 'Ice Queen', not that they ever called it to her face, but Claire had always been a talented eavesdropper. Though, that was essentially her role. She did paperwork, scheduling, and she'd push to get patients moving. She did rounds once a day, or she at least tried too. She suddenly understood why Dick got bored as Battalion XO.
Private Smith had arrived about about two weeks ago with a spinal injury that supposedly paralyzed him. Based on his file, he'd started getting feeling again in his arms and lower extremities before he arrived here. He had yet to move from bed and would stare off into the distance. He reminded her an awful lot of James MacArthur, that boy from the hospital in England. Many of the men in here did.
He didn't speak at all. Didn't acknowledge her. She was called because Second Lieutenant Nurse Hattie Levinson was having no success.
"Private Smith, I was hoping we could try moving your fingers. That's all, just your fingers," she reasoned.
Nurse Levinson looked at her in desperation.
"Nurse Levinson, why don't you go fetch Doctor Willis," Claire suggested to the young nurse.
Hattie was a young twenty-one year old freshly inducted nurse. She had a thick Boston accent and was a bright optimistic girl with red hair and green eyes. She was quite the gossip.
The young nurse took off to go find the doctor.
"Why don't you tell me your name, Smith?" She offered.
Still nothing. Claire huffed. She knew his name of course, but she wanted to get him talking, to do anything.
"What is it Nurse Rousseau?" Doctor Willis asked.
She looked down at Private Smith. "We should transfer Private Smith to psych. He's not making progress here."
"No no, give me a few more days," Nurse Levinson pleaded. "I'll get him up and moving."
"Nurse Levinson, need I remind you that we have beds here for men who want to get better. It has been made very clear to me that Private Smith doesn't. Wouldn't you agree Doctor Willis?" Claire turned to the doctor.
"Yes, I would, Nurse Rousseau," Doctor Willis agreed. He could see what she was doing.
There was a loud noiseas a glass went smashing to the ground. Claire suppressed the smile on the corner of her lips. She looked over to see Private Smith looking at her angrily and his arm moved up and was by the bedside table where a glass of water had once been.
"Nurse Levinson, follow me on rounds," she motioned for the young nurse to follow.
"Is he being transferred?" Levinson asked when they were far enough away.
"No, he's not," she answered. "He wasn't going to be… not for another few weeks or so."
"Then why…"
"Nurse Levinson, these men have seen horrors that you can't possibly imagine. Many of them watched their friends get blown to pieces."
RU-
Then nothing.
Claire shook it off.
Stop it.
"They need to be given a reason to keep moving. Whether it's by their own will or by spite. What I did was anger Private Smith to the point where he'll try just to prove me and Doctor Willis wrong," she explained. "You can care for them, but you can't coddle. It only helps when they're dying."
She left the shocked young nurse in her wake as Claire kept on her rounds. She was the Ice Queen, and she played her part well.
Before returning to her dreaded paperwork, she went from ward to ward getting updates on patients. Half her day was spent doing this, then she'd be locked in her office for the rest. She had fifteen nurses. Eight, worked during the day while seven worked at night. She would alternate weekly. Claire, herself, work three night shifts a week and four in the day. She also took care of the food schedule. She oversaw the orderlies and made sure every patient was fed. The other majority of her paperwork was looking at patient files and assigning them to the right ward. There were supposed to be two nurses per ward, but two wards during the day had one and three at night. Luckily, they weren't a surgical hospital. Most of what they do is continuing physical therapy, giving medication, and providing psychiatric help to those who need it.
Since she arrived, Claire rarely spoke to the others, patients or staff. After work, she would head back to her room in the nurses ward and write or read. She had a small radio and would listen to music. She didn't like working much at night, she could hear the men having nightmares, the same ones she knew plagued her every night.
She was going through the very last ward, taking as much time as possible. She did not want to go back to paperwork. She checked a few charts. There were a few cases Claire made herself aware of.
She was walking past a patient with an amputated leg. Looking at it, she was briefly reminded of The Bois Jacques.
My helmet… I have to get my helmet.
Where Joe Toye's right leg had been there was nothing but a stump that resembles ground meat.
Bill's leg barely hanging on by a thread. The nerves quivering like a bowl of gelatin.
Keep it together.
Deep breath. In and out. In and out.
"Miss?" She heard someone in the bed next to her. "Nurse?"
She snapped out of her memories and turned towards the man in the bed. She'd checked the chart and knew he was a Private with a spinal injury. It was a bruised spine so with some physical therapy he would be up and moving in no time.
"Yes, private, is there something I can do for you?" Claire asked.
"Could you… could you take me outside?" He asked. "I want to get some air."
He had curly red hair and brown eyes. He looked to be about her age, though war had aged him. There was a small nagging thought at the back of her head that she knew him from somewhere. Though, she found she did that with many of the soldiers. When she closed her eyes, many times she found herself back in Bastogne and every soldier blended together.
She was surprised he asked her. There weren't many who would, but a stroll with a patient was much more appealing than paperwork. Besides, she was the head nurse, she made the call.
"Of course, Private," she replied.
After helping him into his chair, Claire rolled him out of the hospital into a lovely garden. She parked the chair next to the stone bench Claire often came when she took a rare break. The sun shined brightly in the sky. She could hear the cars rumbling by on the street in front of the hospital. She was having a hard time getting used to city life once more.
The two sat in silence for a good long while. Whenever memories like Bill and Joe's legs, she thought about better things. By better things, she thought about Eugene. She thought about the kiss in Austria, but she also thought about all the times he made her laugh, that he comforted her in the dark times. On the long trip back from Austria, Claire carefully went over every moment she shared with him. It was clearer now more than ever her feelings for him. However, as long as they were still in the army, they couldn't do anything.
"It's a whole different world back here," the soldier finally spoke. "I forgot how humid Long Island summers are."
"Where are you from?" She asked.
"North Jersey," he replied.
Her old wound on her thigh from the shrapnel she took in Holland was stiffening up again. She cringed as she stretched it out.
"What about you? I take it from the accent you're not from around here," he deduced.
"Louisiana," she replied. Why was he asking her all these questions?
"Funny, you're not how I thought you would be," he spoke.
"Excuse me?" She asked.
"When you first got here, it didn't click on who you were until I asked a nurse what your name was," he responded. "You look different from the picture."
He took out a pack of smokes and offered her one. She shook her head; she was trying to give up the habit.
"Have we met before?" Claire asked as he lit up a smoke.
"No, but we have a mutual friend," he answered. "My name is Robert Leckie, but my friends call me Lucky… I'm a marine. I knew Lieutenant Eleanor Thompson."
Oh my God.
Her eyes were wide in shock. Now she knew where she recognized him…
"Eleanor sent me a picture…" Claire voice. "Of all of you at Guadalcanal."
"And then you sent one back. You look different than you did back then," he said.
"That was before I jumped into Normandy," she replied.
The rushing water over her head as she tried to cut herself free.
That picture was before everything.
"What happened?" She asked. It slipped out, but she wanted to know how her friend died. "The letter I got didn't say how she…"
Private Leckie remained quiet. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going back to that day.
"I'm sorry… I shouldn't've asked," she apologized. "Can you tell me what she was like?"
At this, Leckie smiled. "She was… funny, and sweet, and fierce, and loyal, and brave… she was the best person I knew… she was a hero."
They sat there for a very long time talking. He told her stories about their late friend. The longer Claire sat there, the longer she realized that it was cathartic for him. He talked about training at New River when he first met Eleanor.
It was getting on in the day and Claire had to get to her paperwork. At least, if she wanted to get to bed at a decent hour.
"I hate to leave this, but I have a large stack of paperwork with my name on it," Claire spoke.
"Can we do this again?" Leckie asked. "It's nice… you kind of remind me of her."
Claire smiled. "I wish I would've met her… Tell you what, we'll get you started on getting back on your feet, and we can talk more."
"You sure you can get away from the paperwork?" Leckie asked.
"Believe me, it's no skin off my back," she replied.
When Claire wheeled Leckie back to his bed, she thought about his story. She knew it was a shallow version. Still, there were things she picked up on.
"Leckie, I have to ask," she said as she helped him back in the bed. "Eleanor and the other guy… were they…"
She didn't say the words.
"Yeah… well, I think so," Leckie deduced what she was trying to say. "I don't really know. They never said anything until it was too late."
"Thank you," she replied. "I've got to get to going now, but I'll be back tomorrow. We'll start getting you up and moving again."
"Looking forward to it," he said with a smile.
Claire made it to her office, her stack of paperwork for today was much smaller, thankfully. She finished it just as her shift ended and she headed back to her quarters. She sat down and wrote a letter. She'd wrote and rewrote the letter half a dozen times unable to make it just right. She didn't know how to say it without sounding stupid.
Water rushed over her head as she frantically cut at the straps of her harness. When she was finally freed, Claire swam to the side and pulled herself out of the water… then she was running as German's yelled behind her. A shot ripped through the air.
"They've got us zeroed!" Lip yelled as Claire tried to drag Quinn through the alley in Carentan.
"RUSS!"
Then she was blown back. Quinn's blood stained her pants. His intestines were blown across the cobblestone road.
"M-m-m…" Thomas Walton sputtered as he died just outside Carentan.
Why me? The woman in the pink dress asked as the villagers cut her hair.
As bullets ripped past her, she crawled on the ground, her leg radiating in pain.
Get up! She screamed at herself as she tried desperately to get away.
"I hope when you die, it's quick," James MacArthur told her a Lucky Strike hanging out of his mouth.
"Just leave me alone, Henry," she begged her brother's former best friend. He looked back at her, and she wanted nothing more than to make him vanish.
"A life in pain is not worth living at all."
"No one's gonna mourn me," she told Eugene on that day in the church in Bastogne.
"RU-" And then… nothing.
"I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried out as he lay choking on his own blood.
Dozens of walking skeletons staring at her.
Dead.
Alive.
Dead.
Dead.
Alive.
"They're Jews, Poles, Gypsies…"
Why? Why? Why?
Claire woke up and sat right up, her body drenched in sweat. Every night, her memories played over and over again. She relived the horrors of war every time she closed her eyes. It had happened in the war, but never like this. Every day, like a goddamn movie.
She reached in her bedside table and pulled out her new journal. She bought it in England before her flight back since the German soldier's was now filled. She opened to the first page where she found a picture. It was of Easy Company taken at Camp Mackall before they left for England three years ago. She took the pen and started from left to right.
Evans – KIA June 1944
Harris – KIA June 1944
Quinn – KIA June 1944
Richards – KIA June 1944
Dukeman – KIA October 1944
Hoobler – KIA January 1945
Kiehn – KIA February 1945
Walton – KIA June 1944
Dewitt – KIA January 1945
Sowosko – KIA January 1945
Penkala – KIA January 1945
Muck – KIA Januray 1945
And so many more. That wasn't counting all the replacements that came after.
When she finished with the dead, she did the same for the wounded. By the end, nearly every single one of them had something.
The longer she stared at the picture, the harder it became to swallow back her tears. She tried until she could no longer bear the grief and she broke down. She brought her knees to her chest and sobbed quietly in the blanket that covered them.
End of July 1945
Claire looked up from her large stack of papers at the sound of someone knocking at her office door.
"Enter," she said.
The door opened to reveal First Lieutenant Nurse Dorothy McCain. She was a blonde haired, blue eyed, fair skinned woman. She always wore a bright smile and was a favorite among the patients. Nurse McCain was one of the very best. She was friendly with Claire.
"What can I do for you Nurse McCain?" Claire asked.
"A few of the girls and I are heading to the city for the night. Gertie somehow managed to get us tickets to see some show… I – we were wondering if you wanted to join us," McCain said.
She was caught off guard at the request. This weekend it was her first leave since she got here a month ago. She'd written to Bill Guarnere when she first arrived and now this was the first weekend she would be able to go visit him and Joe Toye in the hospital.
"I'm actually heading to visit a friend in Atlantic City," she replied. "But, thank you for the offer."
"Of course… maybe next time," McCain said, her ever present smile still on her lips, though it fell slightly.
"Nurse McCain, I am grateful that you asked," she stated. "It means a lot. I know I'm not exactly the most well liked here."
She was the Ice Queen after all.
"Nah, it's not that they don't like you, they're just scared of you," McCain explained. Claire looked at her curiously. "Our last head nurse got discharged because she got pregnant. She was warm and sweet… then you come… it's just an adjustment is all… Ma'am, I hope you aren't offended by this but I have to ask, were you at Anzio?"
"I'm sorry?" Claire asked.
"My sister was there as a nurse. She got wounded… pretty bad too… she's home now. I went and visited her. She had that same distant stare you get… that all those men get. She flinched every time there was a loud bang…"
Claire had a hard time with thunderstorms. Every clap of thunder reminded her of the endless artillery barrages in The Bois Jacques. She could still clearly hear Skip yelling at her to get in the hole before a shell came down and obliterated him. She had a panic attack during the last big storm, luckily no one was around to see it.
"No, McCain, I wasn't at Anzio," Claire replied.
"But you saw stuff like that, right?" She pressed.
"Yes," she answered. "I did."
Claire kept the answer brief. She thought about that piece of paper they made her sign when she first got here. She'd been expecting it of course, but she hadn't thought it would be as cruel as it had come. She wasn't allowed to talk about her experience, talk about how she went to the front, and if she did, she would lose army benefits. Just like that, everything she did would be forgotten.
"Where I was before doesn't matter. I'm here now."
Of course it mattered. She never stopped thinking her boys back in Austria and the ones in hospitals across the country.
"Next time, you should come," Nurse McCain told her. "I don't think you're as cold as you make yourself seem."
Nurse McCain left her office after that.
An hour later, Claire was on a bus to Atlantic City in her Class A uniform. She was surrounded by eager GI's on leave. She sat at the very front of the bus and kept her head down. Claire watched the urban scenery passing by. She remembered the long drive from Sturzelberg to Lansberg.
Gory Gory what a Hell of a way to die.
She remembered that though she was hungover, she sang, and laughed. That was before the camp, when the end was nigh and they could start thinking about the future.
The drive wasn't long. Before she knew it, Claire was walking down the boardwalk, a little blown away by the amount of military hospitals there were. The hot sun beat down on her and she wished she didn't have to wear the jacket.
She reached the hospital she was looking for and walked up to the reception at the front. This hospital was much larger than St. Alban's. It was bright and shiny and colorful.
"Hi, I'm here to see Sergeant Guarnere," she stated.
"Name?" The bored receptionist asked.
"Um… Captain Claire Rousseau."
"Sign here." She did. "Third floor to the right, room 318," she said. "Visiting hours' end at six."
"Thanks."
Claire walked to the elevator and hit the button to the third floor. She turned to the right and down the hall. Claire stopped in front of the room and knocked on the door. She walked in to see Bill Guarnere in a hospital bed with Joe Toye in a wheelchair next to him. They both turned to see her in the doorway.
"Hope I'm not interrupting," Claire said with a large smile on her lips.
"Well I'll be damned," Joe Toye said. "What're you doing here Russ?"
"Didn't Wild Bill over there tell you I was visiting?" She asked.
"Thought I'd surprise you," Bill shrugged. "You just gonna stand there or are you gonna grab a seat?"
Claire smirked and went over to the bed and sat on the edge.
"You look different," Bill pointed out.
"Yeah, you look like a girl for once," Joe added. "Well, like you did back at Toccoa."
Claire laughed. She'd missed them. She shrugged. "Showers and a bit of red lipstick'll do that."
"Where you at now that you're stateside?" Joe asked.
"I've been working at a hospital in Long Island," she replied. "Have you heard anything from the guys?"
"Yeah, got a letter from Malark last week," Joe answered. "He told me you were gone, but not that you were here."
"How is he?" She asked. "How are they? I haven't heard from them since I got here."
"Doing good, all things considered," Joe answered. "Mostly, he says they're all bored and tired of being there. Grant was evacuated. He woke up."
"Good, that's a relief," she said. "So, you two causing all kinds of trouble here?"
"I'm offended, Joe and I happen to be perfect angels," Bill stated.
"Mmhmm… whatever you say Bill."
"So, how you been, Russ?" Bill asked.
She thought about her nightmares, about how she ducked when there was a loud clap of thunder. But she couldn't tell them about that.
"Doing fine," she lied. "Took a bit of adjusting, but… I'm doing fine. I should be asking you that."
"Eh, we're good, ain't we Joe?"
"Yeah, I'd say so. Nurses are pretty."
"Nice to see that some things don't change," she said with a smile. "Just don't forget who your favorite one is."
"How can I forget the woman that went AWOL to go back to the fight?" Bill asked. "Crazy broad you are."
"I'm never gonna live that down, am I?" Claire asked.
"Would you rather we talk about the broad in Holland? Last time I saw you wearing lipstick," Joe reminded her.
"Jesus, I completely forgot about that," Claire laughed.
"Wait, what broad?" Bill asked.
"Remember how grateful the people of Eindhoven were?" Joe asked. "One was very thankful to our girl."
"She didn't see that I was a woman," Claire defended.
Bill, the bastard, started to laugh.
"Oh, I would not talk. Need I remind you of the Piccadilly in London?" Claire asked.
"You swore to never talk about it again," Bill countered.
"Hey, Joe started it."
"But I gotta pay?" Bill asked.
"Fine, hey Joe, remember that time I knocked you on your ass in basic?" Claire recalled.
"One time! 'Sides, had to give you something, you were just starting to grow on me."
"Uh-huh, you keep telling yourself whatever you gotta to protect your manhood," she laughed.
It was nice seeing both them alive and okay. They weren't as thin as they had been, and the light in their eyes wasn't as dim. She wondered what she looked like to them. If she looked the part of the proper lady. Her language she let slip around them, reminding her of the days she didn't have to pretend.
A nurse came by a few moments later to take Joe away for physical therapy.
"It's good seeing you, Russ," he said before being wheeled away.
"You too, Joe. I've missed you," she replied. Joe smiled before being wheeled out leaving Claire and Bill alone.
"So, you gonna tell me how you're really doing?" Bill asked.
He knew. Of course he did. He was there when Claire broke down crying after Henry. He'd seen her after Quinn's intestines were strewn across the ground after a mortar almost blew her up too. She honestly still wasn't sure how she got out of Carentan practically unscathed. Bill had seen her at her worst. He knew when she was hiding something.
"I'm… trying," was all she could think to say.
"You look tired. You been getting sleep?" Of course he never beat around the bush.
Claire simply shrugged in response.
"You got nightmares?" He asked.
"Yeah… do you?"
Bill just nodded.
"Wanna know something dumb?" She asked. "I flew here from England and I'd never been more terrified. We hit turbulence and by god I nearly grabbed a chute and jumped right out. I jumped out into enemy fire on D-Day and landed in rushing water. I parachuted into Occupied Holland… but I'm terrified of planes."
"Same thing happened to me, Russ. I woulda jumped out with only one leg," Bill assured.
"Do they have you trying out the prosthetic yet?" Claire asked.
"Nah, still gotta heal a bit more."
She looked down at the stump. She remembered that day. She remembered trying to climb out of the foxhole to get to the wounded but Bull pulled her back. She didn't fight. Maybe if she had…
"I'm sorry, Bill," she apologized. "It was my job…"
"Hey, what'd I tell you? It ain't your fault. I'm the stupid mick that ran out in the middle of a shelling."
"To save Joe. 'Cause of you he's alive."
"And 'cause of you, Alley, Tipper, Weir, Cobb, Mampre, Lieutenant Brewer, Grant, those boys in Bastogne, me… we're alive. You and Doc, you saved our asses multiple times," Bill stated.
"It's my job, Bill."
She always had to remind them that what she did wasn't something extraordinary because she was a woman. They never said that sort of stuff to Eugene. She did her job, just as he did.
"Then why do you feel guilty?" He asked.
Suddenly, Claire got a flash of Alexander Melville impaled.
She shrugged. She didn't want to tell him that she felt guilty for being alive.
"Have you written to Doc?" Bill changed the subject.
"No…" she admitted. "I'm… I'm having trouble."
"With Doc?" He asked almost in disbelief.
"Bill… if I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?" Claire asked.
"You know I will."
She took a deep breath before saying it all in one shot. "On my last night in Austria, Gene and I… we kissed."
Bill went quiet.
Oh crap. She should not have said anything.
"Bout damn time," Bill finally spoke up. A large grin on his face. "Looks like Luz owes me ten bucks."
"What?" Claire asked confused.
"We all knew," he said. "Small quarters, hard not to notice things."
"How could you know when I had no idea?" She asked.
"I ain't blind?" He offered. "D'you love him?"
Claire sighed. How could she possibly describe her feelings?
"I just… In all that Hell, he was the one good thing… Of course I love him… how could I not? When I see myself getting to live that normal happy life, it's always with him."
"Then what's stopping you?" Bill asked.
"What if the only reason he thought that way about me was because I was the only woman around?" There it was, the real reason she blocked so often in writing to him.
Bill seemed to mull over that for a moment.
"I'm gonna be honest with ya Russ… at some point or another we were all kinda in love with you. I mean, you're right, you were the only woman within a ten mile radius and we were on the line a long time. Then that wore off. You stopped bein' a woman to most of us. You were just Russ… You were never thatto Doc. We could all see it. Even back at the start."
"So you're saying I should tell him."
"Yes, you should. Something good oughta come out of this whole mess."
She smiled at him.
"What about you, Bill, you got some nurse here that you've got your eye on?" Claire asked changing the subject from her.
"No," he answered. "But I got a girl… Frannie."
"When d'you meet her?" Claire asked curiously.
"Long time ago. She's the hula girl."
The hula girl? She thought for a moment until she remembered the picture Bill always carried.
"I always thought she was a picture from a magazine," Claire shrugged. Then it dawned on her. "Wait… you had a girl this whole time? Even with the Piccadilly?"
"I…"
Claire laughed. "I'm screwing with you, Bill. I don't agree with it, but I know what it was like over there... You needed a distraction."
"Good ol' Russ, always looking out for me."
"You gonna marry Frannie?" She asked.
"Soon as I get outta here," he replied.
Claire smiled at him.
They sat and talked for the rest of visiting hours. She told him about Leckie and Eleanor. How every day she learnt a little bit more about her friend. It was nice, she told him, to learn about someone she never truly got the chance to know.
All too soon, a nurse was coming in to announce that visiting hours were over.
"I'll be back soon, I promise," she said.
"Thanks for coming… Take care of yourself, Russ."
"Same to you, Bill. Give Joe my best."
And just like that, she was gone. She grabbed some dinner at a diner. She sipped on a cup of coffee and pulled out the paper from her pocket and asked the nice waitress if she could borrow a pen. Then she took a deep breath and started to write.
Zell-Am-See Austria, July 1945
Eugene sat quietly in the barracks. He had the day off at the aid station. He tried to work as much as possible, kept him from thinking about a certain nurse back in the states. He did see that there was a difference in the feel of camp. With Grant and Claire gone, they'd lost two original Toccoa soldiers. More than that, they lost two great leaders.
Shortly after Claire left and Grant got shot, Easy Company and the rest of the 506th were moved to a camp just outside the town. It reminded him of Toccoa, though these mountains were much more intimidating than Currahee. He kept waiting for the order to run up them, though he knew it probably wouldn't come. They still went into town, mostly just to hit the bar.
Vest came around and delivered the letters.
"Doc," he said and handed Gene a letter.
He could tell by the writing on the envelope who it was.
"That from Russ?" Luz asked. He knew Luz missed Claire.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Well… are you gonna read it?" Malarkey urged. Eugene knew it was customary to read letters from home out loud. It raises morale. He also knew that they would want to hear from her.
"Dear Eugene," he read out loud. "It's been three weeks since I left Austria, though it feels much longer than that. Maybe by the time this letter gets to you it'll be longer… I'm still not sure how fast mail is now. It's strange being back. The night clubs are booming, jobs are on the rise, and yes, tell Luz Rita Hayworth is still married. I think some forget that there's still a war going on. Or maybe they don't want to think about it.
"Head Nurse is about as fun as it sounds. My daily routine consists essentially of paperwork and only seeing patients once a day, if I'm lucky. The nurses I work with are all sweet naïve girls who want adventure and to find their future husbands."
This got some hoots from the boys. Eugene smirked but kept reading. "Here, I'm no longer Captain Rousseau. I am no longer called 'ma'am' unless it's one of my nurses. Here I am 'Miss' or 'Nurse'."
"Bet she loves that," Luz said sarcastically.
"It took some getting used to, but now I don't feel like snapping every time. I suppose that's how it will be from now on. I'm writing this to you at a diner in Atlantic City. I've just come from visiting Toye and Guarnere. They're doing fine. Raising all kinds of Hell in the hospital, as is to be expected."
"Good ol' Toye and Gonorrhea," Malarkey laughed.
"…We talked for a good long while, and what I've figured out along the way… or maybe I've always known is…"
He stopped reading out loud. He read the sentence quietly, his eyes locking on three words. The three words he'd wanted to hear and there they were written plain as day.
"Is?" Luz pressed.
"She… uh… she says she misses us," he stumbled. "And that she can't wait to see us again."
Luz looked at him disbelieving.
"I'm going for a drink," Malarkey announced. "Who's in?"
There was a chorus of agreement and many of the men got up to leave. Eugene didn't move. He stayed in his cot, the letter in his hand. He wanted to write back. Mail call was two days from now. It was great hearing from her. Even better to know those three words, but if anything it made him miss her more.
"Hey Doc, you coming along?" Luz asked from the entrance of the tent.
"Nah, I think I'm going to stay," he replied.
"I miss her too, Gene," he deduced. Certainly not the same way Eugene did. "Come grab a drink with your pals. Might take your mind off things."
He thought about those three words again. I love you. That's what she'd written. Eugene had known how he felt about her for a good long time. He pushed his feelings aside because he knew nothing could happen between them. He denied them for a long time. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd come to accept them, no that's a lie. He knew when it was. At the aid station in Saint-Marie-du-Mont when he saw her after the jump. The relief, the joy he felt upon seeing her washed away the fear he felt when she wasn't there. That moment, that was when he stopped denying them. Of course, he couldn't act on those feelings, not while she was his CO.
Maybe he should go and have a drink. He put the letter in his pocket and got up from the cot. He'd write to her tomorrow during his shift at the aid station.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The story is almost over. I think there's about two-three more chapters before the epilogue. Thank you to those who reviewed! Let me know what you thought.
