Chapter Twenty-Two

June 10, 1944

Sergeant Greenlee,

Your brother asked me to send you this letter he wrote you. He was wounded and is at this moment in a field hospital waiting to be transferred to England. I wish I could tell you more. He is badly wounded but alive. I suspect he is out of the fighting now.

Pfc. J. H. Hilton, Medic

****

June 23, 1944

Kitty’s hands shook as she reread the letter for the third time. Milton. Dear sweet Milton. Wounded.

Maybe it wasn’t that serious. What did “badly wounded” mean anyway? Had he lost a leg? An arm? Her thoughts darted from one image to another. Milton in bandages on a stretcher begging for water. A hospital, like the one here at headquarters, with beds lined up in rows in the little Nissen huts. Milton as she’d last seen him, smiling, confident, strong.

She could see her mother dissolving in tears when she read the telegram. Her father, stoic and silent, would remain strong. Both her parents had such great plans for their oldest son. He would take over the family business, after years of working at his father’s side. He would be a leader in the community, the church, the lodge. He would marry a beautiful, capable, young woman who would take her place in local society. Would Milton return home a hero? Or a broken man? A cripple? Would he be destroyed by his wounds?

Tears slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She swiped them away and gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t be some helpless female who cried over everything. He is alive, she reminded herself. Alive.

“Waiting to be transferred to England.” She read the words again. Her thoughts raced.

Where did the infantry treat their wounded? Did they bring them from France on ships? On Planes? No air fields had been set up in Normandy. The fighting was too heavy. So they must bring them by ship. But they hadn’t taken any ports so how did they get them to the ship? Rowboats? No, silly. Landing craft. That must be how.

June tenth. Almost two weeks ago. Where was he? Who was taking care of him?

Her heart ached. She needed to talk to someone, someone with more information.

The nurses. They’d know about how the wounded were handled. Maybe even know where they would be taken.

Charlie and some other girls returned from their showers and readied for bed. She turned away from them, not wanting them to see her upset.

She forced herself to put the letter away. Grabbing her things, she headed for the showers. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t put it out of her mind. With Madge gone, she was all alone. It wasn’t that the other girls weren’t friendly. They just went about their own routine. Madge had been the only one she’d talked to, confided in. Now there was no one.

Tonight she longed for that camaraderie, longed to share the news with her friend, longed for Madge’s comforting words and warm hug.

By the time she returned, the lights were out and everyone was in bed. In the darkness she let the tears flow. For Milton who lay somewhere hurt and alone. For Madge and the loss of their friendship. And even for Ted, the man she’d just begun to know, now far away at some airfield.

****

When Colonel Snyder left General Lake’s office, Kitty hopped up and tapped on the office door.

“Come in,” came from inside so she turned the knob and went in.

“Sir, may I speak to you a moment?” She tried to make her voice sound strong, confident, though she was anything but.

“I’m pretty busy. Can it wait?” He didn’t even look up from the papers on his desk.

“No, sir.” Suddenly she panicked, wondering what she should say to him. “I…uh…I just wanted to go over to the hospital. I haven’t visited the wounded in a while…and…uh…Captain Weatherby said I should…”

He waved her away impatiently. “Go on, then. Just let me know when you get back.”

“Thank you, sir.” She turned on her heel and hurried out.

Leaning against the closed door, she took a deep breath to calm herself. She had to think about what she would tell General Lake. She’d told him Milton was her fiancé. Should she tell him her fiancé was wounded? Or should she tell him the truth? And if she did, what would he think of her? And more important, would he give her leave to go see him? If she could find him.

She jotted a note and left it on her desk for anyone who might come looking for her. Then she headed for Captain Weatherby’s office downstairs to tell her where she was going. This wasn’t the time to get herself caught between the general and the captain.

At the hospital Kitty searched out Lieutenant Rankin, the nurse who’d been friendly to her, unlike most who believed the lieutenant’s rank meant they didn’t have to speak to non-coms like her.

Lieutenant Rankin was different. She’d been a nurse before the war and put medicine ahead of the Army’s caste system.

Kitty eased into Lieutenant Rankin’s ward. The antiseptic smell brought instant nausea, but she tamped it down, determined to carry out her mission.

The nurse stood near her little desk reviewing a patient’s chart with one of the aids. She looked up when Kitty slipped in the door.

“Sergeant Greenlee, how can we help you?”

“I…uh…I just came to visit with the wounded.”

“That’s nice of you. There are several in here who’d love someone to talk to.”

Kitty’s gaze darted around the ward, beds filled with bandaged men, some staring back at her. She fought against the dread of facing men in hospital beds. “While I’m here, if you have a minute, I…uh…want to ask you something.”

Lieutenant Rankin studied Kitty, a glimmer of curiosity crossed her face. She returned her attention to the aid. “Go ahead and take care of it,” she told him.

He picked up something and headed toward a patient at the other end of the ward.

Lieutenant Rankin turned her attention back to Kitty. “So what is it you want to know?”

Guilt clenched her gut. She couldn’t lie about her motives. She just couldn’t. “I really came here to ask you something. But I’ll stay and visit, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Sergeant.” Lieutenant Rankin reassured her.

Kitty didn’t know what to say. She started to shake. “It’s…it’s my brother.” She managed to get out. She fidgeted with the strap on her bag, then sighed. “He’s been wounded.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lieutenant Rankin’s concern was genuine. She raised her hand to get the aide’s attention. “I’m going to step outside for a few minutes. Call if you need me.” She took Kitty by the arm and led her outside onto the boardwalk that connected the huts.

“Now, what’s this about your brother.”

Kitty relaxed a little, thankful to be outside and grateful that Lieutenant Rankin would talk to her. “I got a letter saying he was wounded…in Normandy. Where would they take him?”

“Slow down. What outfit’s he in?”

“The First Infantry.”

“And when was he wounded?”

“The letter said June tenth.”

“That’s two weeks ago.” She looked off into the distance as if she were thinking. Then she turned back to face Kitty. “I can make some inquiries.”

“Do you think you can find out where he is?”

“I don’t know.” She gave Kitty a reassuring smile. “Right after the invasion, we got a request for any nurses or aids we could spare to help with the wounded. I’ll start there.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” Kitty pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and shoved it into the nurse’s hand. “Here’s his information.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t found out anything.” She patted Kitty on the arm. “You look tired.”

Kitty forced a smile. “I didn’t sleep much.” Truth was she hadn’t slept at all. Her mind had raced throughout the night with all sorts of terrible thoughts. She’d tried to force herself to be positive, to not imagine the worst. But the images kept returning. The only way to fight it was to do something, stay busy and find a way to see Milton, to prove to herself that he would be okay. Then she would be able to sleep.

“I’m okay,” she assured the nurse.

“Good girl.” Lieutenant Rankin slipped her arm around Kitty’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. “Now you go in there and visit with those men. They’re bored stiff and chompin’ at the bit to get out of here.”

“I will. I’ll talk to every one of them.”