“Well, of course, but what if we aren’t mentally prepared enough for whatever we’re expected to do next?”
“We are,” I assure her. I can’t completely convince myself of this, but it’s the only option we have at the moment. We have to assume we are ready for anything that happens.
“Good evening, ladies. Welcome to Camp Kilmer.” A soldier with a hop in his step stops so sharply in his tracks, dust flies up around him as he removes his cap and bows toward us. He doesn’t seem as nervous and stressed for time as everyone else moving around the base does. “I hope you all find the stay warm and welcoming.” The man offers us a wink before continuing on his path. At the same moment, Isabel discretely snatches my gloved hand and squeezes so hard I lose feeling in the tips of my fingers.
“I assure you; the pleasure is all ours,” Isabel responds, sounding giddy considering the situation we are unknowingly walking into.
Our small crowd of nurses stick together as we head toward our assigned barracks. The walk is enough time to give us an idea of how life works around here. It seems every man is on a mission to complete a task twice as fast as another guy. Everyone is in a rush to get wherever they are going, and I can’t help but wonder what they know versus what we as newcomers know. My suspicion is we are here to move fast and depart even faster. Captain Landry gave us little warning before leaving Fort Devens, which tells me we are at the brink of a drastic change, an imminent attack, or an incoming threat. I don’t get the feeling many of us will rest soundly tonight while we all sit and wait for our next orders.
“It is certain we need a distraction. We should go out for a night in the city,” Beverly hisses in my left ear. “The tension is so thick; we need a knife to cut through it all. I’m sure you all agree we could all use a break from the mysterious mission, am I right?”
“Sure, that sounds like a swell idea.” I think.
36
September 1942
I’m curledup against the wall in the hallway of my barracks, tangled within the phone’s coiled cord while waiting for an airman to put Everett on the phone. The only time the two of us can catch each other on the telephone is first thing in the morning before zero five hundred hours or just after supper.
“Doll-face.” His breathy whisper sends chills up the back of my spine. I could have easily lost track of the time that has passed since we’ve seen each other, but I know it has been two-hundred-and-twenty-four days since I left Oahu—since I kissed his lips goodbye at the airport.
“Hi, handsome,” I say, facing the wall so no one hears me.
“Finally, it’s the last day of quarantine for you, huh?”
“Honest to goodness, Everett, these have been the longest ten days of my life, but I’ve gotten a lot of studying done, and no one else contracted meningitis. I suppose we’re in the clear now.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear you are all okay and safe. But what on earth are you studying now?”
“Oh, you know, just the Medical Department Soldier’s Handbook for the fortieth time.”
“That book is literally a pill,” he jokes.
“No kidding.”
“Say, Everett, I only have a minute before I have to pass the phone along. There are at least three sets of puppy dog eyes staring at my backside, waiting to call their future misses.”
“I miss you,” I whisper.
“I love you like crazy, doll,” he shouts. Catcalls, hoots, and hollers from nearby airmen trail behind his words. They all like to get each other wound up when their girls call.
“I love you too.”
“All right then, I’ll talk to you soon, sweetheart.”
“Everett,” I stop him before he hangs up the phone.
“I’ll be careful on the jumps. I promise you,” he says as if it’s become a routine response to his name.
“No, I know you will. It’s not that. Tomorrow—I think I know what tomorrow brings.”
Everett clears his throat and I hear a muffling scratch across the phone’s receiver.
“Tomorrow,” he says under his breath.
“I have a feeling.” My words ignite a chill—stress of the unknown.
“Letters won’t stop us from talking. We’ll get through this. Just keep writing. Promise me, Lizzie?”
