Over There, page 6
Lillian looked like a statue, beautiful but emotionless. Ruth wished she knew what her former lover was thinking. But Lillian gave no clues and didn’t offer Ruth even a glance. Ruth was as dead to her as Gerald, who was buried and would remain forever oblivious of his wife’s transgression as he lay in a simple grave in Colleville-sur-Mer, France.
The attendees had all suffered a loss. For most of them, it was the promise of their young son, husband, brother, and friend. For Ruth, it was the seemingly ephemeral moments of happiness with Lillian.
Chapter Eight
The first weeks after Gerald’s funeral dragged for Ruth. She slogged her way through each day at the factory, with nothing to look forward to after her shift. She no longer had Lillian to go home to, no longer had Lillian to hold, no longer had Lillian to make love to. At home, things felt different. Ruth was hyper aware of the reversal of her fortunes. Now, she was just the youngest child, back at her parents’ home, with its pall of dread as her mother waited for news, any news, of Frank. Ruth felt alone, at home and at work. She had no place here, she realized.
Lying in bed, trying to sleep, Ruth had a realization. If she didn’t have a place here in this small town, with its small-minded people and its small spot on the map, why not leave? Frank wasn’t the only one who could make a difference. Women were being welcomed into the Red Cross Nurse Corps, even those without prior training. Maybe helping the cause would take her mind off of her broken heart, Ruth thought. Even if it didn’t, at least she would be making a difference. She imagined herself overseas, in an exciting new country, working hard and meeting new people. It would be a whole new life, Ruth thought. Exactly what I need. A plan formed and hope restored, Ruth fell into a deep sleep, the best she had had since her last night with Lillian.
****
“How could you do this to me?”
Ruth blinked at her mother’s desperate question. As she had expected, her mother had not welcomed the news that she planned to volunteer to help with the war overseas.
Despite where she was heading, somewhere where she would have to grow up in an instant, Ruth felt like a little girl, crushed at having disappointed her mother.
“I want to help, that’s all.”
“Help? You can help here at home, like I do. You don’t need to go over there. You’re just a girl. It’s too dangerous.”
Mary looked to her husband for support. “Say something, Neil. Tell her she can’t go.” Mary twisted the dishtowel she had been using when Ruth blurted out the news. Her knuckles were white and as Ruth watched her, her mother’s hands suddenly looked very old.
“We can’t tell her what to do, dear. She’s a grown woman. It’s her choice.” Neil spoke softly and hated the words as he said them but knew they were true. His own heart was torn. He was proud of his daughter, seeking out a duty that she could easily have avoided without judgment. But he was also afraid, as any father would be. Added to the fear for his children was a fear that if anything happened to either of them, his wife would be shattered, beyond his reach to repair.
“I’ll be in my room,” Ruth said. Nobody stopped her.
****
Is there a way for a young woman to prepare to go to war? Ruth alternated between excitement and fear on a daily, almost hourly, basis. One thing that had provided some comfort was the structure of her packing list. Provided by a helpful senior nurse from the Nurse Corps, Ruth had been proud of receiving the official correspondence, tangible proof that she, Ruth Carroway, was going overseas to serve her country.
The list, typewritten and numbered, with chatty helpful hints interspersed, contained reminders that the trip wasn’t a lark, not by any means.
Shoes, take extra as these are rationed overseas.
Nail polish, but colors brighter than Windsor are taboo in some theatres.
We will meet you at the port; remember security! Do not say “good-bye” as that will invite questions.
Ruth’s eyes had widened at the reminders and realized that she had needed a nudge, telling her that this wasn’t just a way to escape heartbreak. She was going into an active war zone. No wonder Mother is worried, she thought as she re-folded a stack of underwear and tucked the stack in her large trunk. The few remaining items to be packed were strewn across her bedroom floor and Ruth frowned at them, wondering how she would get everything to fit. Nursing uniforms, a nursing cap with a set of pins that she did not yet know how to use, a cape, bedding. There was so much to remember. Don’t count on adding to your gear in the theatre—pack smartly! the list had admonished.
A knock at the door interrupted the packing. Ruth looked up and saw her mother. She immediately braced herself. Mother would now be making her last, emotional plea, begging her daughter not to go. But that was not why Mary was there.
“Honey, Lillian is here to see you,” Mary said. She stood in the doorway and her eyes took in the gear being packed. It was too much for her, too much like the scene far too recently when she had watched her firstborn excitedly pack his Army gear.
Lillian stepped in and dipped her head politely at Mary. “Thank you, Mrs. Carroway.”
Emotion had stolen Mary’s voice and she could only nod in response before leaving.
Lillian repeated what Mary had just done and looked at all of the packing activity going on in Ruth’s small bedroom. For a moment, her heart wavered. She had loved this woman, after all, at least she thought she had. And now, now she was leaving. Lillian tightened her jaw, forcing herself to be strong.
Ruth watched the warring impulses travel over her former lover’s face, just as similar impulses raced through her own body. Lillian had not had a kind word for her since that awful day and the sudden and total shift in their relationship had scarred Ruth.
The women stood in silence, staring at one another. Finally, her emotions contained, Lillian spoke.
“So, you’re going to war?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?” Lillian carefully kept a sharp edge to her voice. It was easier to forget the closeness she had shared with Ruth if she sounded angry. At least, that was what Lillian was banking on.
“Well, there’s not much for me here, is there? Besides, I want to help.”
“You, Gerald, all of the boys who don’t come back. You all feel so brave, so self-righteous, don’t you? Running off to war to help the cause. What about the ones that are left behind? The war made me a widow, you know.” A tremor of emotion entered Lillian’s voice.
Ruth’s heart leapt. Was Lillian asking her to stay? Was she likening her to her own husband? Worrying that she would once again lose her love? She looked finally at Lillian.
Lillian’s hard, defiant gaze rested on Ruth. She raised her chin a bit, daring Ruth to challenge her.
There was no energy in Ruth for this fight. Lillian had made her feelings clear when she kicked her out of her home.
“I can’t speak to that, Lillian. All I can say is that I can’t stay here any longer and I want to help our boys.” Ruth’s voice said far more than her words.
The women held each other’s gaze, neither speaking. It was a battle of the wills. Finally, Lillian shrugged and turned to leave. “Well, good luck to you.” She began to walk out, then stopped. “And I know you took that page from Gerald’s girlie magazine.”
****
Ruth checked her trunk for the fourth time. Feeling unsettled, she sat on her childhood bed and looked around her room. Maybe for the last time ever, she thought to herself. The comfort and security that the room had once represented had become stifling, the twin bed a mocking reminder of her shared bed with Lillian and all of the delight it had brought. No, she no longer belonged here.
Her heart ached for her former lover and with it, a new feeling. The feeling that something inside of her had been revealed and unleashed—something that Ruth knew she could no longer ignore. The physical pleasure that she had experienced making love with Lillian made her hungry for more. It was more than that, though, Ruth knew. She also longed for the emotional connection that had been forming with Lillian. The hint of what it could be was damningly tortuous. Ruth suspected there was more of it out there for her—but where?
Not for the first time, she wondered what would be happening if there was no war. Would she have had the courage to leave if there weren’t a place for her to go?
A knock at her doorframe saved her from answering her own question. Ruth looked up to see her father standing in the threshold.
“Pop. How long have you been there?”
Neil smiled and stepped inside of his only daughter’s room. “Long enough to know you’ve got a lot on that mind of yours. Only natural, I suppose. Today’s the day, huh?” Neil’s casual words belied the fear he felt. Having seen war up close, he wanted nothing more than to spare his youngest child from the things that he knew she would see.
“Today’s the day. Mom still mad?”
Mary had made no effort to conceal her anger about Ruth’s decision to leave Indiana, “by choice!” as she had emphasized to her husband. Already overwrought with constant worry and dread about her son being on the front, the notion of her daughter voluntarily putting herself in harm’s way had driven her to a resentful ire that made the last week of Ruth’s time at home tense and uncomfortable for everyone. Underlying the anger, of course, was a mother’s worst fear, the possible loss of not only one but now both of her beloved children. The fact that Ruth had volunteered for the duty only increased Mary’s emotions. Caught between warring emotions of maternal pride over her daughter’s bravery and a soul-deep terror of losing her as a result, the terror won out.
“You know she’s only worried about you. She’s sick about you leaving.”
Ruth toyed with the handle of her suitcase to avoid looking in her father’s eyes. She knew that her mother wasn’t the only one dreading her crossing the Atlantic. She also knew that her father was trying to spare her the guilt of leaving.
“I know. I feel awful about making her upset.” Ruth was telling the truth. She had lain in bed night after night thinking about the pain that she was inflicting on her mother by volunteering for the war. Adding to the internal conflict was the fact that Ruth’s reason for leaving had just as much to do with helping the cause as it did removing herself from Lillian’s orbit, which had become too painful.
“It’s something you have to do, I understand.” Despite his non-emotional exterior, Neil did understand. He sensed that his daughter was at a crossroads in her life. The fact that it intersected with the nation being at war was an unfortunate happenstance. “I’ll take care of the home front, okay?”
With that, Ruth did meet her father’s eyes. In them, she saw compassion and acceptance. She wouldn’t dream of confiding in him about Lillian or about the feelings she was experiencing towards women. But her heart eased a bit when she realized that her father was on her side and that even though he surely did not want both of his children at risk any more than his wife did, he knew that Ruth would not find what she needed in Evansville.
A wave of emotion overtook Ruth and she threw her arms around Neil. The stoic veteran of his own war embraced her, closing his eyes in silent prayer that she would be safe.
Chapter Nine
Ruth’s first sight of Europe was anti-climactic. The six weeks of training provided by the Red Cross center in Staten Island had been a blur of information, studying, and meeting other young women like her—each young, nervous, but excited about joining the war effort. Not a single one of them had ever been overseas and most had never been out of their home state. Ruth had absorbed the training, focusing her mind completely on the many procedures and tasks that she would soon be responsible for. It had been a welcome distraction and there were several days during which she realized she had not thought about Lillian at all.
The training was intense but interesting. Ruth found herself learning about ward duty one day and sanitation procedures the next. She learned to administer injections, take vital signs, and read medical charts. She excelled during the basic anatomy course and took quickly to the instruction on medicines. Many of the women had blanched when shown the film on wartime injuries. The short movie spared no detail in showing close-up injuries of men wounded in battle. The grim narration told the young nurses that they would see all of this and much more in wartime and emphasized the injuries that they were likely to see most often. Ruth took careful notes to detail what she was learning about shrapnel wounds, amputations, dysentery, and the like. It hadn’t been long since Ruth last sat in a high school classroom, but these classes were certainly nothing like those days.
Ruth had been recognized as particularly adept during training and told she was confirmed for a position overseas, rather than on the home front. It had taken no time at all for Ruth to agree. She would go wherever the country needed her and if that was overseas, that was where she wanted to go. She was given her assignment: London. It sounded very exciting and exotic to Ruth.
After the brief graduation ceremony, the women had made their rushed good-byes, hugs, and promises to stay in touch, fueled by the ever-present urgency that wartime brought with it. Ruth and the others had been issued their nurse’s uniforms and were assigned to ships immediately to go overseas where they were needed. Most of the other nurses onboard were military nurses, looking sharp in their uniforms with their rank insignia. There was no hierarchy, however; each woman was proud of her role and they held one another in high regard, sisters at arms.
Ruth learned quite quickly that sea life was not for her. The first day on the ship, she made the mistake of eating far too much. It was only later that she realized the mess hall had been empty because the others had been warned that what went in would inevitably come up. The rest of the trip saw Ruth essentially confined to her small bunk room, which she shared with a kind and patient woman from Virginia, Lettie. Lettie had been a saint, bringing Ruth small meals of soup and dry crackers and not getting upset even when Ruth was up multiple times during the nights to rush to the head.
So, when the hospital ship arrived and the women were prepared to disembark, her first sight of another country failed to move Ruth. All she cared about was stepping on dry land, which was blessedly stationary and didn’t rock and heave side to side. With tearful good-byes to friends made during the journey, the women separated, heading out with their assigned units and preparing to enter a new phase of their lives.
****
After checking in at the hospital in London where she was assigned, Ruth made her way to the bunkroom. The head nurse had told her that she could pick any open bunk she liked and that her duty would start first thing in the morning. After that, she sent Ruth on her way with a perfunctory “good luck.” Ruth was realizing quickly that there was no time for handholding on the front.
Upon entering the bunkroom, Ruth was pleased to see that it had the familiar look of the dormitory she had stayed at during training. There were two dozen bunks, twelve on each side of the room, each with a small table on the side. Many bunks were obviously spoken for, as was evident by the linens on the bed and footlockers arranged in front. Others lay bare, their mattresses uncovered.
Ruth spotted an open bunk in the corner of the room. Realizing she was picking her home for the foreseeable future, she decided it looked just as good as any place. She sat down heavily on the bed and exhaled. I’m really here, she thought to herself. The travel had been so arduous that in some respects, she had forgotten what was coming, but now, here she was. Ruth Carroway, a trained nurse, assigned to overseas duty in London. She couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to be somewhere useful. Even though she had no idea where her brother was, being in London made her feel linked to him, as if they were fellow soldiers fighting a common threat.
Looking around, Ruth noticed the shape of a woman under a sheet in the bunk next to her. She was facing the wall so Ruth couldn’t make out her face, but she could see a mound of curly brown hair spilling across the pillow. Sleeping nurses similarly occupied other beds, but one woman was awake and made her way over.
“Welcome. You must be the new girl,” she said in a strong New York accent. “I’m Midgie.” She extended a hand.
Ruth stood up and shook the woman’s hand. “Ruth. Ruth Carroway. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too. Let me help you get your linens so you can get your bed set up.”
Ruth smiled gratefully and followed her new friend to a hallway where she pulled an armload of sheets and blankets from a mountainous stack. “Thank you so much, Midgie.”
“No problem. I’ve been here seven months but I still remember my first day. It can be overwhelming. Look, hon, I have a shift and have to go but I’ll catch up with you later and show you around. Sound good?”
Ruth took the stack from Midgie. “Perfect. Thanks again.”
Midgie gave a quick wave as she left and Ruth admired her sharp Army uniform. She was impressed with the confidence and attitude of the woman and hoped, not for the first time, that she could pass the muster.
Thirty minutes later, Ruth had her bed made, her footlocker in place, and some personal items stowed in the small bedside table. She was tired but couldn’t sleep. The other women in the room were still asleep and Ruth felt edgy. Struck by inspiration, she decided to give herself a self-tour of the hospital. After all, she would be spending her days there, why not get a quick peek? Dressing quickly in her spotless Red Cross uniform, she set out in search of the hospital.
****
From behind the door marked “OPERATING ROOM,” Ruth could hear a low rumble of chatter and instruments being handed over, placed on metal, and instructions being barked. She knew she shouldn’t let herself in, but her curiosity got the better of her. She pulled a cotton mask from a box near the door and placed it on her face. Taking a breath, she pushed open the heavy double doors and walked inside.
