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THE NEXT WEEK NURSE Alcott visited one of the branch camps. As Twila left the dining hall, someone from the kitchen staff hailed her. “Would you mind delivering this tray to the prisoners’ ward?”
Twila agreed and waited outside the door until a guard spotted her. A doctor beckoned him, so he gave her directions.
“First bed on the right. Set it on his table.” He crossed the room and she approached the first bed.
“Ich brauche dich, Frau.” The patient flailed his arm and groaned. Should she leave the tray on the floor?
His volume increased, and another patient hollered, “Verschloss ihn.” Shut him up. Twenty feet away, the guard spoke with the doctor, and farther on, an orderly helped a patient walk.
Twila took a hesitant step. The prisoner lurched from his bed and grabbed her around the waist, yelling at the top of his lungs. Frau, she knew, and “Beeile dich!” He needed her?
With little chance to fight, she kicked the bed frame. The patient’s sour breath mixed with strong soap and another vile odor. Some disease?
Then another smell overrode everything else, or was it a taste? A scene from a Great War story Nurse Alcott had shared flashed before Twila as the prisoner’s grip prevented her escape.
“True fear became real to me on a late winter day. I’d run out of platinum needles for tetanus injections, and ran to a supply tent that appeared empty. I had to have those needles, but as I reached for a box, a man yelled, “I am dying, sister. Come to me.”
“Then a hand grabbed my ankle. Somehow, I shook him off and ran out, but I never entered a supply tent alone again. I’d skimped on the rules because we were so busy. That day taught me fear, and the reasons behind the rules. If you ever taste fear, don’t think—flee.”
“Beeile dich, mein frau...” In the prisoner’s clutches, Twila’s mouth went dry. Her next thought frightened her more—when Nurse Alcott found out about this...
“Stoppen sie es jetzt—stop it right now.” A shadow fell over the bed and someone strong loosened the prisoner’s hold and pulled him away. Twila fell into a wooden chair and stared as the German wilted in a guard’s iron grip.
Two orderlies raced up, so the guard released the prisoner and muttered. “You know where to take him.”
She drew a breath and looked into earnest blue eyes.
“Are you all right, Miss?”
A second breath. Another. “Yes. Thank you.”
Those incredible eyes, the color of a summer sky on a clear day, held her. Then the guard blinked and took a step back.
“You never know what to expect, but you handled it well.”
She wasn’t certain Nurse Alcott would agree, but his assessment bolstered her. He leaned forward a little.
“You look a little pale.” He gestured toward the door, but something rooted Twila to the chair. A swatch of blond hair fell across the guard’s forehead. He shoved it back and took her elbow.
“Sometimes it takes a bit to get your land legs back.”
He led her down the hall. “Where—do you know where they took that patient?” She hated the tremble in her voice. Compared to Nurse Alcott’s experiences, this was nothing.
“To a quiet room down the hall. The doc’ll evaluate him.”
“They won’t punish him?”
“I doubt it. Our new commander wants to re-educate these guys rather than punish them. He’s going to designate a whole department with that in mind.”
A distance down the hall, he let go of her elbow and pointed to a chair. “Why don’t you sit here to catch your breath? Take your time.”
A few minutes in the cool quietness calmed her. Everything had turned out all right, yet Nurse Alcott’s comments kept running through her mind.
The reason for the rules...
A few minutes later when Edna heard this story, she bobbed her head in commiseration. “I’d say you’ve learned a lesson. I’ve had to learn mine, too.” She patted Twila’s arm. “That kitchen worker should never have asked you, in my opinion. But don’t worry about it. Happened on a good day, I’d say.”
Twila tried to imagine Nurse Alcott’s reaction—would she issue a sharp reprimand or lend a sympathetic ear?
