Thanks to Amy, ana, amanda, Holly's Mean Reds, hodhod2011danger, and Liliesshadow for their reviews :)
Chapter 3: Lengthy Recoveries
March 1945—April 11, 1945
Germany
Lillian Jenkins walked stiff-backed from the room. Her father, the retired Lieutenant Commander tapped the ash from his cigar, eyeing his defiant daughter wearily. Caroline Jenkins looked up the stairwell from her chair, watching her daughter slowly making her way to her room. But as calm as Lillian seemed, when the door to her room slammed shut, there was no mistaking her anger. Her father set his eyes towards Oliver, who looked poised and calm as well, but his eyes gave away his uneasiness. Caroline moved out of her seat and briskly began to ascend. Caroline could hear her crying from outside her door. She let herself in and closed the door quietly behind her. Lillian lay on her bed, her face buried in her pillows.
"Lillian? Lillian, honey, isn't this a bit melodramatic, even for—?"
"Melodramatic?" Lillian repeated, lifting her head and staring at her mother incredulously. Caroline's head bowed slightly, but she continued to listen. "How long were you planning on keeping it secret from me? Right before the 'big day'? I'm twenty-three-years-old! I should be able to choose what I want to do with my life!"
"Yes, you are grown-up. Why don't you start acting it?" Caroline asked. Lillian moved to sit on the edge of her bed, quickly wiping her tears. Caroline sat down next to her, but Lillian resolutely looked away. They stayed like that for several minutes.
"I want to live the life I want. Not his," Lillian said, quietly. "I want to go on dates with whoever I like, and I want to choose if I want to marry him or not!"
"I know honey, I know," Caroline said in an attempt to soothe her daughter.
Lillian huffed and asked harshly, "Do you now? You and Dad had an arranged marriage last I checked."
"Yes, but he is only trying to do what's best for you," Caroline reasoned.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lillian inquired, turning back to her mother.
"Being wealthy is a privilege, and there are those in the world who will do very unscrupulous things to attain that privilege. Your father and I just don't want you to be a victim of a situation like that—" Lillian gaped angrily, completely surprised that this was coming from her mother.
"Mother! So no man could ever marry me and not be after money? Well, maybe I better start earning my own so then you and Father won't ever have to worry about some, some gold-digger stealing yours!" Lillian cried, furiously.
Lillian woke up and immediately sat up. She kicked away the covers and stood up, stretched and got dressed in her uniform before sleepily walking over to the table that had a basin of water. She rolled up her sleeves and splashed her face with water. Using her arms to brace herself on the table, Lillian let the water drip from her face, exhaling slowly as she bent her head down. She opened her eyes and saw the jagged scar on her left forearm. She cringed outwardly at the sight of the still pinkish skin and just stared at it for a while. Couldn't it just disappear? Wiping off her face and rolling down her sleeves, Lillian went towards the mirror near the door and ran her fingers through her slightly tangled hair. She quickly and effortlessly put her hair back into a ponytail and walked out of her room, into the aid station.
"Good morning, Eugene," Lillian said.
"Mornin' … looks like you had bit of a rough night," Roe commented, checking off something on one of his charts, but smiling. "Can you do something for me?"
"It's nothing." Lillian waved it off. "What do you need me to do?"
"I need you to go to Major Winters and see if the supplies I ordered a while ago came in. When I went earlier this mornin', a private told me he was in supply briefs. They should be done by now. We're running low on gauze and morphine especially. And my damn—sorry, my syringe ain't working now. I'll take care of your charts for the day, what little there are," Roe explained.
"Of course, and be thankful that there aren't many. I can't remember a time where I had this little," Lillian said, walking out the door.
Walking towards company HQ made her return back to her dream. Lillian hadn't let herself think about what it would be like to return home, and what would happen to her if she did. But now that they were moving into Germany and she had started to think they would finally win this war, she thought of home at the oddest of moments. She'd have to find a place to live because she was certain that she did not want to go back to her family house. Did she even want to go back to Pennsylvania? Well, she'd have to find a job. Lillian hadn't read on any of the reports on the home front, because even if she tried to escape the war for a few moments, she'd have to revert back to screaming, bleeding or dying patients that needed to survive. They needed to go home more than she did. It was more than likely she would have to go back to her old home, for a while anyway. No matter how much she didn't like it … she'd have to go back …
"Hey Nurse Lil!" Malarkey called to her from behind, tearing Lillian from her thoughts. She turned around and smiled.
"Hi Don, how are you?" Lillian asked as they walked along the sidewalk.
"I'm doing alright. How about you?" Malarkey asked. Since the check-up back in Haguenau and over the past month, the two had become friendlier with one another. At the beginning, it was the passing "hi" and "hello," but nothing more. However, as they were getting deeper into Germany, getting settled in a new town nearly every night, waiting for orders and things to do, there wasn't a whole lot going on. They'd find each other by chance and just start talking.
"Hey, I gotta topic we haven't talked about yet—where're you from?"
"Originally?" Lillian asked, and Malarkey shrugged. "I was born in New York, but my family moved to Pennsylvania when I was still a baby."
"How about you? Where are you from?"
"Oregon," Malarkey replied. Lillian whistled.
"All the way on the other side of the country. It must've been quite a journey," Lillian commented, smiling.
Malarkey nodded. "Let's see. Oregon, Georgia, then to England, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and now here. Oh yeah, it's been a journey alright."
"Indeed."
"You've probably had a hell of a—I mean, a pretty big journey too," Malarkey quickly corrected himself.
"Well, Pennsylvania to California, then Algeria, Italy, France, and Germany," Lillian explained. "I guess I've had my share of traveling." Malarkey nodded.
"Is Germany everything you hoped it to be? Is it as grand or dangerous as they made it out to be in the States?" She asked Malarkey. Malarkey's eyes widened and shook his head.
"Not even close! It's a lot nicer than I thought it would be," Malarkey replied, making them both chuckle. "It might be even better than France."
"I can agree with that. It's much easier to live here. I know to stitch and perform surgery and the like, I can understand the language a little … all I would need is a job, and I'd be set," Lillian joked. Although, thinking about it, that plan didn't sound too bad. If only her mind wouldn't add someone else into the equation. She figured he wouldn't want to stay here if he had the choice. But before Malarkey could say anything else, there was a car, screeching to a halt in front of HQ. Lewis Nixon jumped out, looking sulky.
"Is that—?"
"Captain Nixon. What is that he's wearing?" Lillian asked Malarkey, curiously.
"That's his harness. Did he jump into Berlin or something?" Malarkey examined closely, squinting his eyes.
"Well, I guess we'll find out sooner or later." Lillian shrugged.
"Hey! Nurse Jenkins!" a familiar voice called to her. She turned around to see George Luz with his accomplice Frank Perconte, walking towards them.
"Hey Malark!"
"Hello George, Frank," She greeted.
"Perco, Luz," Malarkey greeted.
"What do you two boys need today?" Lillian asked, a smile growing on her face.
"Actually, we just need answers to two, simple questions," Luz explained. Perconte nodded next to him.
"Really simple questions too," Perconte added.
"Alright, what are they?" Lillian asked, looking back and forth between the two men.
"So, say I met a foreign girl, a German girl, and I thought she was really, and I mean seriously, drop dead gorgeous," Luz began to explain, and Lillian nodded.
"Now, say she knows some English too, along with German of course," Perconte elaborated. "Should he—?"
"Should I ask her out in German or in English?" Luz finished.
"Well, she might not know English that well if she's German. So, it would be safer and probably much more impressive to her if you asked her in German,"
"Then …Willst du auf ein Date mit mir gehen?" Will you go out on a date with me? Luz asked, seriously and smirking.
"George, for Christ's sake, are you implying that Lillian's German?" Malarkey exclaimed.
"Did you seriously just ask her on a date? Christ, George—"
"Danke … aber ich kann nicht." Thanks … but I can't. Lillian replied slowly, trying to make sure she was saying it correctly while shaking her head. Perconte's, Luz's and Malarkey's mouths gaped.
"Jesus!" Luz exclaimed.
"That's very sweet of you George. But I'm sure there're regulations against that type of dating. Try it on one of the locals and see if you have any luck," Lillian said, honestly. "Goodbye you two. I'll see you around Don."
"Bye Lillian," Malarkey said.
"Bye Nurse Jenkins—thank you!" Perconte said, still kinda taken aback.
"Thanks Nurse Jenkins," Luz said, almost slyly but also surprised. As soon as she turned around, Malarkey slapped Luz upside the head, making Luz cry out and Perconte laugh.
Lillian went across the road into the building, responding to the soldiers who greeted her along the way. Her heart began to beat a little faster in anxiousness, remembering she was going to see Winters. The two of them hadn't spoken much since she arrived. In her mind however, she was going to see Winters for more than just checking on the medical supplies. There were things he needed to know, and she figured that he would eventually ask. She might as well get them over with, right?
"Has anyone seen Major Winters?" she asked a few of the men in the entrance of the house.
"He just went to find Captain Nixon, Nurse Jenkins. You missed him by a minute."
"Captain Nixon's upstairs," Lipton explained.
"Thank you," she said, nodding to the other men and headed up the stairs. She heard someone talking, but it was too quiet to understand what he was saying or who he was.
"Hear what I said Nix? You've been demoted," Winters said. Captain Nixon? Demoted?
"Yeah, demoted gotcha. Because I don't know how I'm gonna tell these parents that their sons never made it out of the goddamned plane," Nixon continued, his voice sounding different compared to his normal, laid-back tone. However, Lillian remembered very clearly what that letter had said when she found out about her brother.
"You tell them what you always tell them. Their sons died as heroes," Winters said with authority and confidence in his voice.
"You really still believe that?" Nixon chuckled, seeming as if he couldn't really believe Winters had said that.
"Yeah, yeah I do. Don't you?" Lillian didn't want to wait for one of the men to notice her in the doorway, so she knocked on the doorframe and walked in.
"Major, Captain," Lillian greeted, saluting them.
"Jenkins," Winters greeted, dismissing her salute. Nixon kept staring ahead and didn't really acknowledge her.
"Am I interrupting something? I can come back—"
"No, no," Winters said. "I'll see you later Nix." Nixon grunted in response before drinking some more. Winters walked with Lillian, back down to the front of the house. "What's going on?"
"Well, I came to see if the medical supplies came in, sir," Lillian explained as they walked down the stairs.
"Oh yes, they did. Every one of them," Winters said, opening the door and starting to walk in the direction of the building where the supplies had been dropped off.
"That's good. We want to make sure we have enough for the next time we move out and for however long we're going to be here." A silence came over them as they continued walking. Both of them felt like saying something, but they didn't know what to say.
"So … have you settled in? Among the men?" Winters asked, breaking the quiet. He hadn't talked to her since France; he was so busy with paper work, and realizing that in fact, he disliked it.
"Well Major, I think the men and I are still trying to figure each other out, but I can earnestly say I like the paratroopers better than the Navy," Lillian chuckled.
"The Navy?" Winters questioned, confused.
"Yes sir, I'm sure you remember my father. You think he just let me enlist into the Army? Oh no. What with his credentials and friends in the Navy that he had to uphold?" Lillian rolled her eyes, which made Winters crack a smile as he opened the door. "The Lieutenant Commander will never get tired of playing that card."
"Here you go, Lieutenant. All of the supplies: gauze, syringes, morphine—" Winters read off as Lillian began to open some of the crates and take a look inside and see how good the supplies were. The first was filled with gauze, and she smiled thankfully and happily.
"Lillian!" Roe came running in, panting and slightly red in the cheeks. "Throw me some gauze, will you?"
"Here, what's going on?" Lillian asked, tossing him a roll.
"Replacement tripped and sent my stuff flyin' everywhere. Scissors got stuck in his shoulder," Roe explained, shaking his head. Lillian's eyebrows rose.
"You need more morphine, or are you good until I get this stuff carted over there?" Lillian asked.
"Nah, I'm good, thanks though. I'll get Spina to come and help you," Roe said before saluting Winters. "Major." Winters saluted the medic before he took off. Lillian shook her head.
"That's something I've never heard before," Lillian commented, flicking a syringe with her index finger.
"Yeah," Winters commented, almost awkwardly. Lillian put the syringe back in before she picked up the entire box by herself. Winters went to grab the box and help her. He wasn't sure why, it was just an impulse.
"I got it, thank you Major," Lillian assured him, adjusting the box in her arms. Winters moved back and nodded as she nodded in thanks, although it was slightly awkward. Lillian then proceeded to a different box to look at the amount of morphine they had received.
"So, Jenkins, how is your family doing? Your father sounds like he hasn't changed," Winters said, trying to strike up conversation.
"They're good. When I last talked to them, both my mom and dad were in their usual routine. The bridge parties, the social events, the charity nonsense," Lillian explained as she looked through the box. Winters raised his eyebrows; she almost seemed bored, and it sounded like she didn't care. He quickly shook his head. Lillian looked him hesitantly. "But, um, Major. About Oliver—" Winters chuckled.
"How is that daredevil doing? I haven't seen or talked to him since forty-one." Winters asked with ease, which made Lillian slightly regret opening her mouth about her brother.
"He's … Oliver died. He was shot in combat against the Luftwaffe in Salerno." Lillian explained, quickly. Winters' face dropped noticeably, which made Lillian return to the boxes in front of her.
"Wh—?"
"A little over a year ago," Lillian answered before Winters finished his question. "September 25, 1943."
"Uh … I'm so sorry—"
"Thanks," Lillian cut him off. Winters ran a hand through his hair as Lillian continued to rummage through the box. There was a moment of complete silence between the two where Winters wasn't sure of what to say.
"How—how did Mariann take it? Wasn't she engaged to Oliver before I left?" Winters asked, leaning against the wall. Lillian nodded.
"They were married about a month or so before he was deployed. She was a mess for months, or at least the last few months I saw her because shortly after he died, I joined the war effort and was in training," Lillian explained, still rummaging through supply crates, not looking at Winters. "Apparently, the only month they had been together was enough for her to become pregnant." Winters' eyes widened and mouth gaped.
"Pregnant?" Winters repeated, flabbergasted.
"Yes, unless the obvious changes in attitude or the vomiting were because I was joining the Army and leaving her," Lillian explained, rolling her eyes. "Last I heard from her, she was a few weeks before her due date and her stomach as big as a bowl of punch at a banquet."
"Major, sir," Spina greeted, coming into the room.
"Just grab whatever you can carry without hurting yourself. We need to get all of this catalogued and moved," Lillian told Spina as she stacked a box on top of another.
"Roe should be coming over in a couple of minutes. When I left, he was finishing stitching up a guy's shoulder," Spina explained, taking three boxes and starting to stack them. Lillian grabbed her two boxes and stood up straight.
"Have a good day Major," Lillian said before quickly leaving with boxes in hand. Winters was going to say something, but decided against it and nodded before he walked back into HQ.
The day went by smoothly, of course after the replacement was patched up, the scissors out of his shoulder. That was the only injury they had. Those that were recovering from influenza were still there, but that was all, really. Lillian pondered throughout the day if Captain Nixon was all right after being demoted. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, but then again, Lillian had no idea as to why. But, what threw her off was that Nixon didn't seem or sound like it mattered to him at all. She thought that maybe there was something else that was affecting the usually debonair Captain. However, while Lillian was cleaning up the aid station before she went to bed, she heard a crash. She immediately stopped and to the nearby window and saw a man walk into the window of a liquor store across the street. She waited to see who it was … but when she saw Captain Nixon walk out, she walked away from the window calmly and continued walking to where she was housed, as if nothing had happened.
"Hey Lillian, you got mail," Roe called to her, the following morning. She signed off on one of her remaining patients, and she looked at Roe curiously and questioningly.
"Are you sure?" Lillian asked, walking over to him. Roe handed her the letter; she read the address and laughed, quite surprised. "This is from my old CO, back in Italy. I never thought I would receive a letter from her."
Dear Lt. Jenkins,
I hope all is well for you in whatever European country you're in right now. Things down here in wonderful, bright, warm and disgustingly humid Italy have slowed down and, to many girls Italy has become a boring place. We have barely had any patients to treat over the month, and I sincerely wish there aren't many for you either. Maybe this damned war is finally coming to an end.
Unfortunately, there is a reason as to why I'm writing you. Diana died of influenza last night—March 17th—as one of our patients. A soldier was sent to us, not that long after you left, who had been sick for a month with no change in his condition despite the medical treatment was receiving from his company medic. Since some our newbies didn't really know how to handle the complications from influenza—what I diagnosed him having—O'Brien took him on as her patient. She nursed him back to health practically before any of us noticed something was wrong. The sick bastard stayed for 3 weeks; the day he was discharged from the 94th, O'Brien had a fever and was coughing. She dismissed it as the common cold because one of our girls had it previously, and they were in the same room. That just got progressively worse, and of course she lied, telling me that she self-administered medication that first night. I ordered her on bed rest for a week. By that point she was as pale as the walls and weak as a piece of wheat in the wind (forgive the analogy, one of the damn new girls is from Oklahoma and it's rubbing off on me). She told me to contact you if anything were to happen.
And, I cannot believe I'm writing this already, but I miss that incredibly annoying laugh she'd always have at the end of her greeting to me in the morning. So, her body is being sent back to her brother (yes, that one. He was sent back from war) and his wife who are going to give her a proper burial. I'm sorry to be giving you this news, but it was a dying woman's request.
With best regards,
Major Marie Fillion
"Lillian?" Roe asked, seeing Lillian's drastic change in appearance. Her facial expression had dropped, and she had become much paler. "Hey Lillian, you alright?" She quickly looked up at Roe, and she wasn't entirely sure if she could tell him at the moment.
"I need to go walk, Eugene. Excuse me," Lillian said quickly, brushing past him and running out the aid station door.
"Lillian!" he called to her, but she was already out the door.
Lillian went through a few alleys and found a deserted backdoor entrance of a store, now occupied by the paratroopers. She sat down, the letter still in hand. Diana? Dead? Lillian looked back at the letter again before turning her head away to let a few tears fall. She exhaled shakily. She's dead, but she wouldn't want me to mope around. Lillian swallowed uneasily, folded the letter back, and put it in her pocket. She leaned forward, putting her face in her hands, trying to calm her nerves and emotions. However, that didn't really work and only produced more quiet tears. But Lillian convinced herself that it wasn't going to do any good if she hid and cried—she had work to do, and because of Diana's fun and hyper disposition, she would've wanted Lillian to be doing anything else other than crying over her. She stood up and wiped her face with her sleeves and hands and just stood there for a moment so her face could relax and decrease in redness that Lillian was sure she had from crying. When she thought she was okay, Lillian walked out of the alley and out towards the aid station, only to be bumped into.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to—oh, Nurse Jenkins! I'm really sorry!" Janovec apologized, flushing a little.
"It's alright Janovec; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. You look like you're in a hurry," Lillian commented.
"I gotta tell a friend the news. Have you heard?" he asked, curiously.
"Heard what?" Lillian inquired.
"Three hundred thousand Krauts just surrendered. We're moving out in an hour," Janovec explained, happily.
"I didn't, but that is news. I better get back to the aid station and start packing. Thank you," Lillian said as she jogged lightly past Janovec and back to the aid station. Moving on again … Lillian wondered where to this time. She walked through the door.
"Eugene, we're moving out again. We have an hour."