December 1941
The list isendless and growing.
I’m dizzy, weak, and feeling unstable on my feet. One of the head nurses in the hospital told me to take a break, but there’s nowhere to go. The gateway between the destruction outside and the ever-expanding list of names enshrouds me—my world—what was my world.
I’ve tried to phone Audrey’s house, but there is no answer. For all I know, our street may not exist anymore. I hope she and her family are safe. Any attempt at feeling hopeful seems futile with the numbers rising so rapidly.
I walk toward the front doors, finding momentary solace at the sight of the wavering palm leaves, but seeing the abundance of wreckage, including a wing of a Japanese bomber plane—just a wing, snaps my mind back to reality.
The air is thick with dust and fumes, disrupting the typical visibility of the surrounding area. I pull my collar up over my mouth and nose to block the acrid cloud of smoke. A convoy of military and civilian vehicles advance through the base as if they are in sync with one another, leaving a space of three feet in front and three feet behind each set of wheels.
“Miss, you can’t be out here. You must evacuate immediately.”
“Evacuate?” I question the soldier marching toward me.
“Yes, we are currently under martial law. All civilians are to evacuate the base for their safety. I’ll help you into a vehicle.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir, but I am not going anywhere. There are men under my care inside this hospital and I cannot simply leave per your terms.”
The soldier scans my attire from head to toe. “My apologies, Miss, but you aren’t in uniform.”
“There wasn’t time to change my clothes,” I inform the man.
“It isn’t safe out here. Please step back inside the hospital.”
I want to put this man in his place for speaking to me the way he did, but more importantly, I would like to ask him if he has lived through the same twenty-four hours I have? Has he learned anything? At the very least, it should have taught him the proper way to speak to someone. The possibility of martial law has been brought up many times. It has been a backup plan if or when the United States were to be under attack during the war. The military shall handle all laws now. We, the people, will essentially lose our freedom. The safest thing for me to do would be to run and hide, but I will not leave, certainly not by the words of this soldier
“How are we supposed to go about finding loved ones?”
“I don’t have a proper answer to your question at the moment. I’m sure they will brief us on reconnecting families soon.”
“Very well,” I say, turning my back to him so I can head to the hospital.
“If I find you out here again, I will have to escort you to an evacuation vehicle. This is no place for a woman to be standing around. Surely, you understand the danger we’re facing.”
I close my eyes and tug in a quick breath before turning back to face the young man. “I should truly bite my tongue, soldier, but in good conscience to myself, I cannot. Those of us who are still alive have been through the direst circumstances one could ever imagine. I was unaware of the instatement of Martial Law since I was tending to the wounded victims and trying to save lives inside the hospital. That’s what I did after enduring the second wave of air raid attacks in the moments that followed my departure from the USS Solace. My clothes are covered in blood from many people. There is a lack of fresh air inside the hospital, and the only scent permeating the building is that of bile and death. I have been caring for the casualties since yesterday morning and needed to find a breath of cleaner air. I failed miserably since there was none outside either, but I will take a break when I need one and your newfound control will not threaten me.”
“Ma’am, I—I understand—” he stutters, looking visibly shaken by my words.
“I won’t ask you where you were yesterday at seven in the morning because it doesn’t matter. This island—our country is not a safe place for women or men right now, but if it weren’t for the women inside of that building, there would many more dead men.”
“Yes, Ma’am, And I thank you for your service.”
“And I thank you for yours. Please, do not confuse following orders for being rude and disrespectful. We are all in this together.”
The soldier dips his head toward me and I take the moment to walk away, leaving silence in my place. It would have been simpler to inform the man who my father is then giving him a lesson on honor and respect, but I’m tired of using my last name as a crutch. If we, as a nation, don’t handle this moment properly, it will define humanity possibly forever and I will not be a part of that.
I return to the foyer of the hospital, once again facing the updated list of those injured or dead. As requested, I have perused the board several times without stumbling over Everett or Audrey’s names, but not seeing their names on the list only gives me momentary relief since there are other field hospitals set up around the base. There are a dozen locations for the injured, and many of the patients are unidentifiable, as I’ve seen.
“I thought I told you to go take a break.” Nurse Rose approaches me from a blind spot around the corner. “We have you covered for a couple hours now that more of the Red Cross nurses have arrived.”
“I know. It’s just better to keep moving right now,” I explain. If I take a seat, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back up so easily.
“Go clean yourself up, put on a uniform. Coffee and food will help too. We need you, Nurse Salzberg.”
We’re in the middle of a war, a battle we’re not winning. People don’t take breaks while under fire. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
I follow a trail of blood toward the stairwell, wondering if the remnants are from one person or many. I veer away from the scarlet stains out of respect and descend twelve steps to the next level down.
