Emily - September 1943

Emily's arrival in England had gone smoothly thanks to the American Army's efficiency. The boat ride over had been thrilling but slightly lonely without anyone to share her excitement with. It was the worst sort of feeling, feeling lonely with lots of people around. But almost immediately Emily had been separated from the hoards of men that had climbed aboard and was placed in a compact room with the resident nurses. The nurses were English, exhausted, and were over the novelty of riding on the troopship. They had made the journey back and forth between England and the States more than a couple of times. The nurses were friendly enough but busy with their own work and didn't seem to have the patience to revel in Emily's joy. But she was joyful. Her joy grew alongside her guilt for feeling that way as they chugged closer and closer to the British Isles.

The train ride to Aldbourne did nothing to curb her excitement. She was abroad, she kept repeating to herself. She was actually in a new country for the first time in her life. She was free from her parents, free from the pressures of being a well-behaved young woman whose only expectations were to go to church and dotingly wait for her sweetheart to come home. This adventure was about her. This was her chance to make something of herself.

Getting settled in Aldbourne had been a little clumsier. Anyone who seemed to know anything seemed too busy to help her and any private willing to help seemed to have no idea what to do with a woman. She had to explain on multiple occasions that she was not a nurse. Finally, she had been lead to a small, but tidy, bedroom in the large house that was serving as HQ.

"This is where a lot of the officers are lodged," the kind private leading her had told her.

"And the token female staff members," she muttered to herself. She had been briefed by the O.S.S. before boarding the Samaria. She would be the only female intelligence staff member and needed to be hyper-aware of her position. Emily was there to instruct officers and soldiers on map reading, navigation, and morse code. Beyond that, she would serve as a support to the intelligence staff with whatever they professionally required. She had been warned that eventually she would be sent to the continent, but when and where was not disclosed, assuming it had been determined.

The afternoon of their arrival Emily was prepared to teach an introductory map-reading course to the officers so they could relay the training to their men. But when the afternoon came she was informed that the lesson had been canceled. She needed to prepare to teach morse code to the radio operators the following afternoon, but first, she needed to find Captain Lewis Nixon. Frustrated and eager to get to work Emily retired to her room that night wondering if Lewis Nixon would be who she was working for.

In fact, he was, and Emily can't say she was totally impressed. He presented well enough but had a bit of an attitude about her being there. Emily had arrived confident after her positive experience working with the cartographers in Virginia. But she was worried that being with the airborne would be an entirely different experience and she dreaded an uphill fight for respect.

The afternoon after she had first been introduced to Nixon, she found herself sharing a cup of coffee with him. They were waiting for the companies to organize themselves after lunch. Nixon would be taking the officers for classroom instruction and Emily would be instructing the radiomen.

"So you were a secretary. The profile I got on you said you were a typist," Nixon said.

Emily couldn't help but roll her eyes, "that wasn't a secretary. I worked in a law office!"

"Sounds like a secretary to me."

"I didn't just file papers and make coffee."

"What else did you do then?"

"I transcribed depositions, drafted motions, managed the trial calendar for the attorneys - that sort of stuff."

"Why a law office? Was it your fathers?"

Emily's mouth twisted into a bitter, unamused smile, "no, it wasn't my father's office. But it was the closest I could get to being a lawyer."

"That's what you'd like to be?" Nixon's dark eyes rested on her, expectantly. But the question had thrown her off guard. No one had asked Emily what she wanted to do or be before.

"Yeah," she admitted, "if I had it my way, yeah I would."

"There have been female lawyers before," Nixon took a sip of his steaming black coffee, "I'll be it not very many, but there are female lawyers."

"Yeah," Emily sighed, "I know."

"So why don't you be one?" Emily laughed a humorless laugh, "if only it were that simple."

Nixon shrugged, "well isn't it?" "No, unfortunately, it's not. I could barely get my parents to allow me to work. And," Emily took a drink of her own coffee, "that was on the compromise that I would work on a temporary basis until getting married."

"I see. So you gotta fella?"

"I do, John."

"John," Nixon repeated, "where is he?" "With the Marines, in Italy actually." A heavy, familiar weight pressed up against Emily's heart. She was worried for him. The reports from Italy were far from comforting and John's letters were few and far between.

"Ah, that's got to be tough."

That was kind, Emily thought. She eyed him suspiciously before saying, "yeah it's not easy. But that's war, isn't it? We're both doing our part."

"To purpose and distraction!" Nixon toasted himself, pulling a flask from his belt and emptying some of the contents into his half-drunk coffee.

"To purpose," Emily repeated.

"Hey, Lewis," a short, handsome man appeared in the doorway, "the men are ready for ya. Hi," he directed the greeting towards Emily, "we haven't met have we?" the man extended his hand anyways.

"No," Emily smiled and shook it, "Emily Rooney."

"Harry, Harry Welsh. Pleasure!" Harry's sea-blue eyes lingered a moment on Emily causing her stomach to unexpectedly flip flop. She took a drink of her coffee feeling suddenly awkward.

"Nix," Harry gestured out the door.

"Right, I'm coming. We're coming," Nixon swaggered out the doorway Emily on his tail.

"Sergeants, Lieutenants, if you would please follow me and the rest of you, follow the lady please."

Emily pursed her red lips then immediately relaxed her expression, afraid she appeared too much like her mother.
"Luz, that means you!" Welsh shouted after a man who was joking around and seemed not to be paying attention.

"Yes sir," Luz straightened but his impish grin remained on his face. He let out a low whistle, "I'll follow her anywhere," he commented quietly to the men around him.

"I heard that," Emily raised a stern eyebrow but couldn't help the little smile that crept a./cross her lips. She turned on her heel and led the men to a roughly constructed classroom made of canvas and wood. "Excuse me, ma'am." Luz folded his hands obediently behind his back as he and the other radiomen followed behind her. Emily didn't miss the cheeky eyebrow dance he gave the other men once he thought her back was completely turned.