With Every Letter (30 page)

Her right foot wrenched to the side. She cried out and crumpled to the ground.

Her stupid heel had gotten stuck in the planking. Why didn’t the Army Nurse Corps supply practical shoes?

Footsteps pounded toward her.

Oh no. Tom. He’d consider her a silly female who feigned injury so men would come to her aid.

She wiggled her foot out of the shoe. Her ankle throbbed.

“You okay?” Tom knelt beside her. “Mellie? Oh, it’s you.”

“I’m fine.” She didn’t meet his gaze, afraid her eyes were red. She swiveled her ankle. Not broken. A strain, maybe a mild sprain.

Tom chuckled. “That’s why you waved. I didn’t recognize you. The sun was in my eyes. Sorry. You must think I’m rude.”

Mellie ventured a glance into his eyes, even bluer against a tan. He must have had more days at the beach. In his swim trunks. She lowered her head and rubbed her ankle. “Perhaps a bit rude.”

“Sorry.” Tom worked her shoe out of the hole. “Maybe you should keep the high heels at home.”

His grin prodded up a shaky laugh. “If I did, I’d be barefoot.”

Tom brushed dirt off the shoe and handed it to her. “I’ll loan you some combat boots.”

“I’d accept if they came in my size.” She worked the shoe back onto her foot and winced at the pain.

“Are you hurt? ’Cause I could reserve a spot for you on this flight.”

Why did he have to smile? It was the most glorious, agonizing thing. She forced herself to play along and send him a wink. “I already have a reservation.”

“Smart woman.” He got to his feet and offered his hand.

Nothing to do but take it, although the feel of his warm, callused strength sent shivers through her more painful than the twinges in her ankle.

She tried not to favor her right foot. “How’s Sesame?”

“He’s great.” Tom pulled off his helmet and ran his hand over his sweat-damp hair. “He slept real well that day, and I kept him busy. He didn’t pull out his stitches. Doc Abrams will take them out in a few days. He admired your handiwork.”

“Doc Abrams?”

Tom motioned with his thumb over his shoulder as if a physician stood behind him. “Our battalion doctor. Anyway, thanks for all you did.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Mellie couldn’t tear her gaze from his determined expression. When he fought for his dog with Dr. Sayers, he showed he’d learned from his mistakes. Strength bolstered his kindness, and she loved him deeply.

Tom plunked his helmet back in place. “I’d better get back to work. Good seeing you.”

“Same here.”

He saluted and left her.

All alone.

“Sing it loud, boys.” In the bottom litter on the left, Sergeant Benson launched into “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

As she made her way down the aisle, Mellie cringed, and not from the pulsing pain in her ankle. On any other flight, she’d welcome singing. On this day, with the war in North Africa at an end, the men deserved to celebrate.

But not when their celebration taunted the defeated enemy.

Irritated murmurs in German rose from some of the litters. Mellie didn’t think it wise to mix Allied and Axis patients on the same flight, but two armed MPs stood guard in white helmets at the front of the cabin.

Mellie knelt beside Benson’s litter. “Excuse me, Sergeant. I appreciate your patriotism and understand your joy, but please wait until we’re on the ground. Things are tense.”

Benson added a smile to his handsome face. “To the winners go the spoils.”

“Yes, sir.” Mellie patted his arm. “But save the spoils for later.”

He waved her off with a glint in his brown eyes and sang “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.”

Mellie sighed and straightened up. She’d never seen the enemy so close. Other than their unfamiliar uniforms and languages, they could be American boys. One looked scared, one looked sad, and two Italians seemed thrilled to be done with the war. But a German soldier in the litter above Benson gave icicle looks that chilled Mellie to the bone.

She returned to the rear of the plane to get the flight manifest for the final round of vital signs. Every bump burrowed into her ankle. She’d need to elevate it tonight so she wouldn’t miss work.

“Hey, boys, get your raspberries ready,” Benson shouted. “You know it—‘Der Führer’s Face.’”

Mellie’s hands fisted. That was too much. It was one thing to rejoice over victory, another to make fun of the enemy.

“Schwester! Schwester!”
The icicle-eyed German motioned for Mellie.

She didn’t speak a lick of German, but she knew he wanted silence.

The man lay on his litter, his hand clamped over his mouth. Not his ears. The ice melted from his eyes.
“Schwester, ich werde mich übergeben.”

The man’s green skin tone communicated clearly. “I’ll be right back, sir.” She added some hand motions.

Early was helping patients in the front of the cabin, so Mellie dashed to the medical chest in the back, grabbed a rubber basin, and returned to her patient.

He grabbed the basin in both hands, leaned over the side of the litter, and retched.

Mellie stroked the blond hair on the back of his head and spoke soothing words he wouldn’t understand.

All around, men made noises of disgust and turned away.

“What’s the matter, Kraut?” Benson said from right below. “Can’t stomach defeat?”

Laughter rewarded him, and he belted out the next verse of “Der Führer’s Face.”

Mellie ducked down to meet his eye. “Stop it, Sergeant.”

“Just having fun. Join in.” Benson waved his arms and conducted his GI chorus.

Mellie rolled her eyes. But the plane would land in half an hour and she’d be rid of this lot. She addressed her patient, who seemed to be finished. “Do you feel better?
Gut
?”

He lifted his head. Mellie wiped his blotchy pale face with a gauze pad. His eyes gave her the shivers, so cold, so hard, so hateful. She knew what the Nazis thought about half-breeds. Thank goodness she’d been born an American. Her racial heritage earned teasing, not death.

“May I?” She held out her hands for the basin.

His eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled. He leaned over the side of the litter and dumped the basin onto Sergeant Benson.

Benson cried out and sat up, spewing curses as vile as the basin contents.

Mellie glared at the German and pressed his shoulders. “Lie down.”

She bent to clean up Benson, but he’d unfastened his securing strap. He swung his legs to the ground and stood.

“No, sir! You shouldn’t stand.”

He shoved past her, flung his body on top of the Nazi, and pressed his fouled blanket over his enemy’s face.

“Sergeant, no! You’ll smother him.” Mellie tugged his arm. “Help! MP!”

A crowd blocked the aisle and cheered Benson on. The MPs carried guns, but they couldn’t shoot the men in the
aisle. Sergeant Early barked commands over the crowd, but no one listened.

Panic scrambled in Mellie’s chest. The German thrashed beneath Benson’s weight, but he wasn’t strong enough to throw him off. Mellie wasn’t strong enough either. She searched the crowd for one man who would fight for what was right.

She found none.

Benson tightened his grip. “This is for Yates and Caruthers and Jacoby and all the other good men you filthy Krauts killed.”

A strange idea filled her, nothing she could have thought of herself, so unnatural and illogical it had to come from above. She obeyed. She laid a firm hand on Benson’s shoulder. “That’s right. He deserves it.”

Benson turned wild eyes to her, eyebrows twisted.

She leaned closer. “He deserves to die. He’s a barbarian.”

“Yeah,” Benson chuffed out, arms firm over the struggling man’s face. “Barbarian.”

“I’ve heard what they do.” Mellie locked the strongest gaze she could muster on Benson’s red face. “They shoot their prisoners.”

“Yeah! They do.”

“They shoot their prisoners. Unarmed men who surrendered honorably. They show them no mercy. We wouldn’t do that.”

“No.” His voice came out clipped. Horror jolted through his eyes.

“We wouldn’t do that. We’re better than that.” With gentle pressure, Mellie eased him to the side. “We aren’t barbarians. We treat our prisoners honorably. And this man is our prisoner.”

A wash of emotions flooded over Benson’s face. He stared at his hands.

Disappointed cries resounded through the plane.

Mellie guided Benson down to his litter. The German lay limp.

“Sit down! All of you!” Mellie swept the blanket off the man’s face and pressed her fingers to his carotid. Still had a pulse, and his chest rose and fell. “What do you think this is? A prize fight? This is a man’s life.”

Early and the MPs shouldered their way through the crowd.

Mellie addressed the MPs. “Get these men seated and quieted.” Then she turned to Early. “Get the oxygen equipment. Now.”

She knelt down to check on Benson. “Are you all right?”

He held his hands in front of his face. “I’m a . . . I’m a . . .” Blood soaked through his pajamas over his abdomen.

Mellie folded back his pajama top and the gauze dressing over his gunshot wound. He’d burst his incision. She headed toward the medical chest for gauze and plasma.

She squeezed past Early coming down the aisle. “Give the oxygen to the German. He’s still breathing, thank goodness.”

Early studied her, eyes wide, mouth parted. “You defused a riot. All by yourself.”

Mellie glanced upward. “I had help.”

“Well . . .” Early dipped his chin and slowly raised a salute.

“Thanks.” She gave him a quick smile, then went back to work. Adrenaline pulsed in her veins and would aid in the mop-up, but once it defused, she’d collapse.

Maison Blanche Airfield

“A riot on your plane?” Captain Maxwell ran his hand through his sleek black hair.

Mellie sat on the edge of a chair in the squadron headquarters building, her arms and legs weak from the ordeal. “Yes, sir. But we put a stop to it.”

“Put a stop to it? You never should have let it start.”

“Be fair, Frank.” Lieutenant Lambert rested her hand on the back of Mellie’s chair. “Emotions run high on those POW flights. You know Sergeant Early does not give praise lightly, and he said she did a brilliant job and stopped it all by herself.”

Maxwell spun and looked out the window to the darkening sky. “That’s her problem. She thinks she’s still in the jungle. She wants to do everything by herself.”

Mellie blew out a breath. “Independence is an important trait in a flight nurse, isn’t it?”

He turned, planted his fists on the desk, and leaned on them. “Within limits, Blake. Within limits. Vera and the others know their limits. They don’t smear cactus on wounds, try to stop riots single-handedly, or perform amputations.”

“Amputations?” Lieutenant Lambert circled the chair and stared down at Mellie. “You never performed an amputation.”

Mellie looked back and forth between Maxwell and Lambert. Her mouth opened and closed. She’d never discussed Sesame’s procedure with anyone.

The surgeon cocked an eyebrow at her. “Captain Abrams of the 908th Engineers told me how lucky I was to have such a skilled little nurse in my squadron. Seems you chopped off a dog’s tail and did some pretty embroidery.”

The chief nurse groaned. “Mellie . . .”

She leaned forward. “Sir . . . ma’am, the dog had been shot. The tail was broken clean through. The doctor on duty refused to treat the dog, and it seemed cruel to let him chew it off and get infected. I only needed to snip through some skin and soft tissue.”

Maxwell crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. “So you performed a surgical procedure. You used valuable supplies on a dog. And you didn’t have a doctor’s order, much less a vet’s. That’s just a little outside your scope of practice, isn’t it?”

Tingles zipped through Mellie’s cheeks. “Yes, sir. I suppose it is.”

“What did I say would happen if you stepped outside your scope of practice again? I’d send you home.”

Lambert twisted her hands together. “Don’t be hasty, Frank. And remember, that’s my decision, not yours.”

“So make it. She doesn’t know her place.”

The chief turned to Mellie. Her brown eyes alternated between scolding and pleading. “You know better. Please don’t do anything like that again.”

Mellie’s throat thickened, and she swallowed hard. “I won’t, ma’am.” But how could she allow the sick and wounded to suffer when she knew how to help them?

“Thank you. I don’t appreciate being in this position. I shouldn’t have to defend my nurses.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“You’re dismissed.” She waved her hand to the door.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Mellie darted for the door and gasped from the stab of pain in her ankle.

Kay stood outside the building and waved. “Hiya, Mellie-bird. Heard you had a riotous day. I’m so proud of you.”

Mellie ventured a smile although her muscles quivered like jelly. “Maxwell doesn’t share your opinion.”

“Never mind him. He’s frustrated from a lack of marital relations.”

“Kay!”

She laughed, and her green eyes glittered. “You know it’s true. But it’s fun to shock you.”