“I’m not hiding anything. What does it matter to you?” My words will do nothing but start an argument with Miss New York, who cannot let anything go.
“Leave her alone,” Isabel calls out as she’s unlacing her boots.
“I saw what it was. It doesn’t matter,” Beverly says.
“So what?” I reply.
“Are you hoping to get us all locked up or something?”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Isabel states, walking toward us.
“Your closest gal pal here is a Jew. A proud one at that, it seems. How did I not realize this before? Your last name is a dead giveaway. Your pretty blonde curls make for a good distraction, I guess.”
I’m in a state of shock while digesting each one of Beverly’s words. I wasn’t hiding my faith, but it hadn’t been brought up in any conversation we’ve had.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask.
I know what is happening in Europe and I plan to be more careful with my necklace if we are in a dangerous area, but I’m on board with all Americans now, and one of them is turning on me as if it’s a natural reaction to a person of the Jewish faith.
“Me?” She squawks, sounding flabbergasted at my question.
“We’re probably three-quarters of our way to Europe, where Jews are being locked up and killed. And here you are, strutting around with that necklace on as we enter whatever enemy territory we’re heading into?”
“Stop it right now,” Maggie says from the edge of her rack. “Why would you say such a horrible thing?”
“Oh please, you’re more of a flight risk than Lizzie with your nervous nelly routine. Do any of you understand what we’re about to walk into?”
I’m stuck on Beverly’s initial comments rather than what she’s still gabbing about.
“Are you really Jewish?” Diane, another nurse asks.
“Yes, it’s not quite the disease you’re making it sound like though.”
I never assumed Dad’s warnings weren’t true, but I hoped these women I’ve spent the last six months with, who I thought were my friends, weren’t the type to hold judgment based on a person’s beliefs. Nurses should be kind to all without prejudice, and I’m appalled at the ensuing topic.
“Well, I didn’t say it was,” Diane says. “But Beverly has a point. What if we’re around the Germans who are trying to exile all the Jews from Europe? We could all end up in danger, Elizabeth.”
My pulse is buzzing within my ears, and my cheeks feel like they are on fire. “I will make sure no one else finds out I am a Jewish woman. However, I will not be apologizing for who I am.”
Maggie and Isabel are silent, but it seems like they are both filled with a sense of disbelief and I don’t know if it’s because I’m Jewish or due to what Beverley and Diane just said.
“Honestly, I can’t believe the military is allowing you to be a part of this deployment,” Beverly continues. “I find your decision to be here very selfish, Elizabeth.”
I’m having trouble pulling in enough air to continue this discussion. Beverly hasn’t been the kindest of our group, but I didn’t have her pinpointed as an antisemitic person. As much as I want to tell her I have worked just as hard as she has and been through unthinkable situations before arriving here on this ship, it won’t matter to someone as shallow as she.
I corral my belongings and leave the quarters with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I no longer feel fear for the moment, just anger and resentment, but I can’t figure out if there is any validity behind her calling me a risk to the others.
37
July 1943
Months wentby when many of us thought we were waiting like sitting ducks, wondering why we continue to move around the United Kingdom, often between England and Scotland. We have been short on personnel since arriving here almost a year ago, but until recently we were doing little to aid in the efforts of the war. We had more downtime than expected, and the free moments left our minds to wander and our hearts yearning for home. To make matters worse, the weather here in England is neither here nor there. It’s not frigid like in Boston, but the sky is gloomy and gray most of the time and it leaks like a broken faucet most days. With a lack of sunshine, I’m certain we are all deficient in vitamin D. It’s not truly the weather that has me down, though. I seem to have lost my spirit over these last few months. I haven’t heard from Everett in over two months. The last letter he wrote to me mentioned there could be a gap in communication for a while because of his upcoming mission, but I don’t have the faintest idea where in this world he is or if he’s even all right.
Daily casualties among US airmen trickle in. The predominance of injuries is due to the explosions, but most of our men have been lucky as there have been few deaths. Still, each time I see the Army Air Corps uniform, my insides collapse as if the bones in my body are weaker than a piece of wet paper. I inspect each patient for familiar eyes, but none have come close to the only ones I want to see.
I find myself in a cycle of repetition in triage most days. I’m the first to unwrap initial coats of dressing, revealing the level of severity of each injury. Depending on the location of the wound, and whether we can loosen a tourniquet without the patient hemorrhaging, determines where he will go next. We take on whatever tasks we can to treat in this initial location as this frees up the operating rooms and long-term care beds.
The biggest difference between working in an evacuation hospital and the naval hospital is our goal of transporting men out as fast as possible, often hoping we’ve made the right decision. The level of trust left on our shoulders to think quickly and choose wisely makes it hard to sleep some nights.
