Chapter Thirty-Two

In the days that followed, Captain Shelley visited Kitty in the hospital. The officer assured Kitty that the assignment to SHAEF had not been changed because of her unexpected hospitalization.

The surprise came when the captain announced that both Kitty and Caroline would receive medals, Purple Hearts, for their injuries. In addition, the captain would recommend Kitty for a commendation for bravery for rescuing her fellow WAC.

Kitty accepted the officer’s kind words, but they did little to dispel her sense of utter devastation. She’d done nothing special. Not like Milton or Ted. Not like any of those brave men who faced death every day. She’d simply survived.

“Come and see me when you get out of the hospital,” Captain Shelley told her.

So here she stood, outside the captain’s office, in her newly issued uniform, her arm still bandaged.

She’d run it through her head a dozen times. The speech she planned, a confession really, would be short and to the point. She’d failed, utterly, and she wanted to go home where she belonged. She’d wanted an adventure, wanted to prove to Milton that she could do it, wanted to be a soldier and fight the enemy. But it hadn’t been like that.

She’d fallen in love with a man who’d told her he wouldn’t live. He wanted to go back to the bombers and be killed like his friends. But she hadn’t listened, had blocked it all out, had just wanted to love him. And she’d gotten her heart broken, beyond repair.

And Milton. Dear, precious Milton. The only person who had believed in her. She’d let him down when he needed her. She’d been so caught up in herself that she hadn’t visited him when he was hurt and alone. She’d stopped writing him at the very time when he had needed her encouragement.

She’d even failed the Army. She’d gotten so caught up in working for the general that she’d lost all perspective. She’d turned her back on her training, failed to be part of the team, put her own selfish interest ahead of the service. She didn’t deserve to wear this uniform and represent American women.

So she would tell the captain the truth. That she had not yet reached her twenty-first birthday. That she’d lied about her age when she’d enlisted, taking advantage of being ahead in school, of graduating high school at sixteen. It had been easy enough to say she’d been born in 1921 instead of 1923. Since she’d finished two years of college, no one ever questioned her age.

Once they knew the truth, the Army would send her home. Not just to an assignment back in the states. They’d probably give her a discharge, perhaps even a dishonorable one. She had broken the rules and deserved to be punished.

An officer came out of the office followed by Captain Shelley.

“Sergeant Greenlee.” The captain smiled. Her pleasure genuine. “Good to see you out of the hospital. Come in.”

She practically pulled Kitty into her office. As the captain took her seat behind the desk, Kitty reached around and shut the door. She didn’t want anyone to hear what she had to say.

“Captain,” she started hesitantly. “I want to go home.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve disgraced the Women’s Army Corps. I have no right to be here.”

“Sergeant, you’ve been through an ordeal. But that is no reason to give up.”

“I shouldn’t even be in the Army.”

“Now you listen to me. I know what it is to lose someone. It’s painful.” Captain Shelley looked at the picture on her desk. “But it is no reason to quit.”

She pushed her chair back, got up, and walked around to the front of the desk, close enough that Kitty could smell her perfume. “I’m speaking now as another woman. All right?”

Kitty nodded. An officer had never spoken to her like this before.

“What would he want you to do?”

Kitty hadn’t expected that, hadn’t thought of what Ted would say.

“My guess is that he would tell you to keep fighting. To help win this war. He gave his life so the rest of us could live free. Are you going to turn your back on his sacrifice?”

“I…I didn’t think of it that way.”

“You should.” The officer smiled. “Besides, we need you. You’ve worked hard, got an excellent record. Why throw it away?” She touched Kitty’s hand. “It’ll get easier. I promise.”

Kitty could only nod. She lowered her gaze, unsure what to say.

“Didn’t you say you had a brother who was wounded?”

“Yes.” Kitty looked back up. “Milton. He was in the First Infantry. Wounded in Normandy.”

“A brave man.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And you don’t want to disappoint him, now do you?”

“No.” She was right about that. Milton would want her to keep going, to work hard, and see this war through to the end. He’d always told her not to be a quitter.

“Now that’s settled.” She touched Kitty’s shoulder, and then she returned to the chair behind the desk.

Kitty drew a fortifying breath. Somehow she regained her strength, her determination.

“Rumor is that Eisenhower is moving his headquarters to Normandy.”

“Really.” Kitty’s thoughts rushed ahead. “How soon?”

“Don’t know. It’ll take a while to move everyone. It’s a big operation. But I’m sure he’ll want to get closer to the front as soon as he can.”

“Then I would be going to France, pretty soon, I mean.”

Captain Shelley nodded, smiling. “Yes, you would.”

****

Word passed down to the women huddled together below decks. Time to disembark in France. Relief filled her. Another step in the uncomfortable journey complete.

When they boarded the ship in Southampton for the short trip across the English Channel, the sweet-smelling salt air and the gentle rocking of the ship had reminded her of the voyage across the Atlantic. The memory helped her cope with her anxiety. Despite her seasickness on the longer voyage, she’d survived. She could handle a few hours of queasy stomach knowing her destination was France.

Kitty forced herself to visualize the remaining journey. Trucks across France to the new headquarters. Settling into new quarters, new workplace. Similar to those in England. Nothing drastically different. She could make it. She knew what to expect.

Again, dressed in full battle gear, Kitty felt more like a soldier than she had in basic training. And in her own way, she knew she was one. Part of the enormous military machine fighting the Germans.

When orders came for the move, she’d expected to land in Cherborg, the French deep-water port destroyed by the Germans before the American troops could capture it. Despite working frantically to repair the damage and reopen the port, it still lacked the capacity to handle all the Allies needs. When the WACs boarded the LST, word quickly spread that they would be landing on the beach, where most of the U.S. troops and materiel were still being unloaded.

She lined up and followed the others, wishing she’d been on deck to catch a glimpse of the French coast as they approached. She wondered what Milton had thought as he made this same journey months before. Had he been afraid? Had he known he’d be wounded?

A glimpse of light told her the huge doors on the front of the ship had opened. Motors cranked to life. The trucks inched forward toward the giant opening to the beach beyond.

Patiently, the women waited until the vehicles disembarked. Then came their turn. With a signal from the senior officer, the small contingent of WACs marched out of the bowels of the ship and onto the sandy shore.

Ahead was a beehive of activity—trucks, tanks, and soldiers swarming in every direction. Rows of boxes stacked high stood in random rows. Men worked diligently to unload numerous ships and move the supplies inland. A road snaked its way up the hill and away from the water.

She thought of Milton, facing gunfire as he came ashore. She glanced toward the water’s edge. Huge objects that resembled giant jacks were strewn along the waterline as far as the eye could see. Her gaze drifted inland to the enormous concrete structures overlooking the beach. Damaged pillboxes, where German guns fired on the men and boats of the invasion force, stood silent.

A chill ran through her. How many men had died on this beach?

“Come on, Greenlee,” someone called.

She shifted her attention to the other women, climbing aboard a deuce-n-half. She hurried her pace to catch up. An older WAC named Beulah extended her hand to help her up into the bed of the truck.

“Thanks,” Kitty said, settling into the seat on the end.

Someone yelled “All aboard.” The big truck jerked into motion and took its place in the line of vehicles waiting to leave the beach.

Kitty shifted her gaze from the hulking mass of the ship to the water, sparkling in the sunlight.

Something dark bobbed in the waves.

Her heart slammed into her ribs. She gasped and clutched her chest. Without thinking she stood and almost jumped from the truck.

Beulah grabbed her. “What the…”

Kitty watched the dark object, tried to focus on it. All she could see was a raft with a man aboard. “See? See him?” she screamed, pointing toward the sea.

Beulah and another girl stood beside her. “What do you see? What are you talking about?”

“Out there. Don’t you see him? The man in the raft.”

“I don’t see anything,” the other one said.

“All I see is a hulk in the water,” Beulah said. “And another one over there.” She pointed to the right of the original object.

But all Kitty could see was Ted floating on a raft, too exhausted to paddle.

“Hey, Corporal,” Beulah called to a passing soldier. “What are those dark objects in the water?”

He looked out over the water in the direction she pointed. “Oh, that. It’s what’s left of the Mulberry harbor. A bad storm broke it up about three weeks after D-Day. Couldn’t be fixed.” He turned to stare up at the women on the truck. “Now it’s just a breakwater. Helps calm the surf.”

“Thanks,” Beulah said. She patted Kitty on the arm. “See, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Kitty blinked. Beulah was right. The object was stationary, not floating. And no one was on it. “But I saw him,” she almost sobbed, not wanting to give up the vision.

“You’re seeing things,” Beulah told her. “There’s no man out there.”

Embarrassed and sick at heart, Kitty sank down onto the hard bench. She looked at her feet, her hands, anything but the water.

In her mind’s eye, she saw him still. And for a fleeting moment, she thought that she could run out there, swim to him, pull him from the water—again. Hold him in her arms—again.

But he was gone…gone forever.

The truck jerked into motion. She refused to look back. She didn’t want to see the beach, the waves crashing on the shore, not ever again.

****

The French countryside gradually changed into city streets. Fields into houses into buildings. One truck followed another as they wound their way into the famous city.

Paris. She was in Paris.

But for her, there was no excitement, no joy, just gratitude the Germans had retreated. Some said the war would be over by Christmas. Oh, dear God, she hoped so. Too many had already suffered, died. It was all such a useless endeavor. Surely Hitler would realize the Germans couldn’t win, that they should surrender and stop the madness.

Their truck had barely entered the city when it left the convoy and turned south. Their destination was Versailles, the new home of SHAEF, not the famous palace, but the town surrounding it. Eisenhower didn’t want his staff distracted by the infamous Paris night life.

When they finally stopped, Kitty climbed out and stood on the sidewalk with eleven other WACs. They stretched their legs and surveyed the old apartment building looming before them.

An Army officer greeted the WAC lieutenant and gave instructions. Kitty overheard him say the building had been vacated by German troops the month before. The lower floors already quartered an earlier contingent of American and British women, who were currently working in the various SHAEF buildings in the area. They would occupy the empty top floor.

He waved his hand as he gave directions to the building where they would be working.

“Walking distance” she heard him say. Kitty hoped that didn’t mean a mile-long hike. Judging from the hours they’d devoted in London, she didn’t relish walking a long distance to her quarters after a twelve-hour shift.

Kitty and the others lugged their duffle bags up the narrow stairway. The fourth floor consisted of two apartments. The lieutenant directed Kitty and six others into a two-bedroom apartment with one small bathroom and a makeshift kitchen. The place was filthy. The smell revolting.

She and two other WACs were assigned to one of the tiny bedrooms. It contained three cots crammed side-by-side. No dresser, no chest, no closet. A board covered a broken window pane, but light filtered through the dirty glass above. No curtains softened the starkness.

Kitty deposited her bag on the cot nearest the window and looked around in disgust. The place smelled musty, with the lingering odor of urine and unwashed bodies.

She wondered if the other apartment was as bad as this one.

Someone behind her commented that the water in both the bathroom and kitchen worked. That was good. At least they could start cleaning.

They organized themselves into teams with each pair assigned an area to clean. They found buckets and mops and soap in the cellar along with primitive wash tubs that apparently served as the laundry.

It didn’t take long to discover that the water only worked part of the time. Too much demand and it cut off. They also found that it was cold. No hot water in the whole building.

The stove in the kitchen didn’t work, and no one was quite sure how the place might be heated. At least the weather remained mild and clear. Open windows provided much needed fresh air and sunshine dried the freshly washed linens.

Soldiers appeared downstairs laden with K rations, enough to last a week, and essential supplies. The nearest mess hall was eight blocks away and shared with male Army personnel. The K rations would give them something to eat if they missed the limited serving schedule.

“Great!” one girl complained. “No hot food. No hot water.”

“Might as well make the best of it,” another encouraged.

“We signed up ‘for better or worse’ and this must be the ‘worse’,” another joked.

“And I thought the Army would be better than getting married.”

“Wonder what Eisenhower’s digs look like.”

“A darn sight better than this.”

Kitty listened but didn’t join in their banter. She kept quiet and to herself these days. Maybe after a while, after they settled in, she’d try to be friendly. But right now, it took all her energy to keep going.

Instead she scrubbed the floor and walls until her hands were raw and her body ached.

She wanted to work, wanted to bury herself in the many tasks assigned to her. She didn’t want to think…or feel.

She’d always hated traveling, moving from place to place, getting used to new situations. Once she settled in to working she’d be okay, she told herself. She could do this. She could survive. She had to. She couldn’t let them down, not Ted, not Milton. They believed in her, so she had to do it, for them.