I woke up at the sound of a loud, bombing noise. What the devil? I jumped up and ran off of the porch to the backyard, only to see Battleship Row being blown to bits, and some foreign bomber planes flying overhead. I covered my mouth; my eyes wide. I turned around to see the other girls running out, throwing their clothes on as they did. I didn't waste another second. "EVERYBODY TO THE HOSPITAL!"
The earth pounded hard against my feet as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me; the other nurses in tow. Don't get hit. That was my motto for the moment. It was also my goal. Don't let the Japanese hit you. Before I got into the combat area, I had taken time to look at the planes. They were most defenitely Japs. But what about the peace talks? Were they useless, or were they never intended to be true in the first place? Who knows? Either way, this was happening. Hundreds of lives were being taken while I ran against the wind, trying to save my own.
I ran into the hospital and didn't hesitate to start getting supplies out. Without knowing who gave them to me, I received orders to help get the patients that were already there away from the windows. Just as soon as we threw the wounded into a pile and covered them with mattresses, a bomb was dropped outside and the hospital windows blew in. Why were they doing this?
I had never watched so many people die in my life. I had never watched anyone die, at that. I had seen it all. I had done it all. I plugged my fingers into an officer's neck artery, until the doctor could get to him. As gross as it sounds, and as gross as it was, I am proud. He would've died had I not. But let's not make it sound like I'm getting big headed, over here. I still feel small. But the part where I felt the smallest? When they sent me outside to only let the ones in who would live. Who was I to make such a decision? I had never felt so awful in my life. This boy came with a hole right in the middle of his stomach. From the looks of it, I didn't think he could be saved, so I sent him away with some morphine to make him comfortable. He might have been able to be saved. But, I wouldn't know. I sent him away going by the looks of the wound and the speed of his pulse. But, then there was always Betty. Betty. Red's fiance; the underage party girl with so much going for herself. She was right behind me. She was with the rest of us. When did she get hit? Why didn't I look behind to make sure everyone was ok? Why was I, again, only thinking of myself in the decisions I was making? Then Sandra cried her plea. It was plea that spoke for me in so many ways. That moment, the night before, and the rest of my life. "I don't know what to do!"
The attack was over. They needed blood. Where the hell did they want me to get it? Would they mind too terribly much if I went and bottled some up from the floor? There was enough. I finally rounded up some of the cleanup crew workers to donate. After I sent them on their way, I gathered up the bags and began rolling them to the doctor; then they walked in. I stopped in my tracks, the first time I had stopped and actually breathed since this attack came upon us. "How can we help?" I looked at Rafe, and then to Danny. Catching my breath, I answered him. "We need blood." Danny nodded and I led them to the room where I would take it. A few feet away, a priest sat next to a black man. He was dying, obviously. The priest was only there to pray with him and make him feel at ease about going home. I hooked Danny up, then moved on to Rafe; all 3 of us listening to the priest's prayer instead of listening to ourselves think. For the first time that day, I looked at Rafe in the eyes. "Pain is only temporary, but glory is forever." That was a sign from God if I'd ever seen one. What did it all mean, though? As Rafe once told me, nearly a year ago; before his decision to go to Britain, before he died, before Danny and I fell in love, before America was seized; before anything. "The future's not in our hands."
The earth pounded hard against my feet as I ran as fast as my legs would carry me; the other nurses in tow. Don't get hit. That was my motto for the moment. It was also my goal. Don't let the Japanese hit you. Before I got into the combat area, I had taken time to look at the planes. They were most defenitely Japs. But what about the peace talks? Were they useless, or were they never intended to be true in the first place? Who knows? Either way, this was happening. Hundreds of lives were being taken while I ran against the wind, trying to save my own.
I ran into the hospital and didn't hesitate to start getting supplies out. Without knowing who gave them to me, I received orders to help get the patients that were already there away from the windows. Just as soon as we threw the wounded into a pile and covered them with mattresses, a bomb was dropped outside and the hospital windows blew in. Why were they doing this?
I had never watched so many people die in my life. I had never watched anyone die, at that. I had seen it all. I had done it all. I plugged my fingers into an officer's neck artery, until the doctor could get to him. As gross as it sounds, and as gross as it was, I am proud. He would've died had I not. But let's not make it sound like I'm getting big headed, over here. I still feel small. But the part where I felt the smallest? When they sent me outside to only let the ones in who would live. Who was I to make such a decision? I had never felt so awful in my life. This boy came with a hole right in the middle of his stomach. From the looks of it, I didn't think he could be saved, so I sent him away with some morphine to make him comfortable. He might have been able to be saved. But, I wouldn't know. I sent him away going by the looks of the wound and the speed of his pulse. But, then there was always Betty. Betty. Red's fiance; the underage party girl with so much going for herself. She was right behind me. She was with the rest of us. When did she get hit? Why didn't I look behind to make sure everyone was ok? Why was I, again, only thinking of myself in the decisions I was making? Then Sandra cried her plea. It was plea that spoke for me in so many ways. That moment, the night before, and the rest of my life. "I don't know what to do!"
The attack was over. They needed blood. Where the hell did they want me to get it? Would they mind too terribly much if I went and bottled some up from the floor? There was enough. I finally rounded up some of the cleanup crew workers to donate. After I sent them on their way, I gathered up the bags and began rolling them to the doctor; then they walked in. I stopped in my tracks, the first time I had stopped and actually breathed since this attack came upon us. "How can we help?" I looked at Rafe, and then to Danny. Catching my breath, I answered him. "We need blood." Danny nodded and I led them to the room where I would take it. A few feet away, a priest sat next to a black man. He was dying, obviously. The priest was only there to pray with him and make him feel at ease about going home. I hooked Danny up, then moved on to Rafe; all 3 of us listening to the priest's prayer instead of listening to ourselves think. For the first time that day, I looked at Rafe in the eyes. "Pain is only temporary, but glory is forever." That was a sign from God if I'd ever seen one. What did it all mean, though? As Rafe once told me, nearly a year ago; before his decision to go to Britain, before he died, before Danny and I fell in love, before America was seized; before anything. "The future's not in our hands."
