“Lizzie, could you check on Benjamin? I cannot get the bleeding to stop and the tourniquet is as tight as I can make it. I can help with Frank’s sutures if you wouldn’t mind,” Isabel asks. Her words pull me out of another dark haze of repetition while checking for infection, fevers, and other previously undisclosed injuries. Frank arrived a couple hours ago with a laceration to his forefinger.
“Of course,” I tell her. “I’ve just finished checking for nerve damage. It doesn’t appear that the shrapnel cut deep enough to cause more than a superficial laceration. He needs about fifteen stitches.”
I place my hand on Frank’s pale face, wondering why some of these soldiers have such boyish features when they are fighting as men. “Isabel is going to fix you right up and we’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.” I offer my typical calming smile and Frank grabs my elbow with his good hand.
“Miss, I would like to thank you for taking care of me.”
“Of course, it’s my pleasure.” I lean away from his hand to continue toward Benjamin, but Frank’s hand tightens and won’t release me.
“I’m sorry to bother you and sound like a stuttering fool, but I don’t want to miss the opportunity to ask you if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight or some other night this week. We’ll be in town for a bit, and it sure can feel lonely around here. You remind me of home, Miss.”
His eyes widen, much like a child waiting to find out what prize they won at a fair.
“Frank, it’s awfully kind of you to ask, but I’m afraid I can’t join you for dinner.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss. I didn’t mean to make such an assumption. I should have asked if you are taken before assuming you would jump at such a forward offer.” Truthfully, I’m not sure if I’m taken, left behind, or forgotten about.
“There’s no need for regret, sweetheart. I’m not so patiently waiting to hear from the one I’m taken by. He’s also in the Army Air Corps, but I don’t believe he is part of your unit.”
“You don’t say,” Frank continues. A pink color fills in the white areas of his cheeks as if I offered him a bit of relief. “What’s his name, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I’ve learned that men do not have the same reaction when hearing Everett’s name, not like the response I get when telling one of the other nurses. “Lieutenant Everett Anderson is his name.”
Frank stares through me for a long moment, as if he’s going through a catalog of names in his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know of him, but I have heard some other units from the states are seeing far more than we are, but there are also some who aren’t seeing much at all. Miss, I’ll pray for you and him. All we can do is hope he isn’t on the front lines.”
“How kind of you.” Frank releases his grip and I make eyes at Isabel—a look the two of us share when we run into an overly eager homesick soldier or airman. Isabel is free as a bird, but I know what makes her blush, and I find it mildly amusing that as sweet as she is, it’s the boys with the dirty mouths that make her giggle. I’m afraid Frank might remind her more of the kid brother she left back home.
As I move over to Benjamin, I notice a particular look in his eyes, a cold, expressionless stare toward the ceiling. “How long has Benjamin been like this?” I call over to Isabel.
“Like what?” she responds.
“Unresponsive.”
“I was talking to him just a minute ago,” she says, turning back toward Frank.
“Benjamin,” I say sternly, looking for a reaction. His eyes don’t blink and there is no change in the rhythm of the pulsating artery on the side of his neck.
“Benjamin, if you can hear me, I need you to blink or say something, darling.” Again, there’s nothing. He’s in shock. I carefully unwrap the soaked tourniquet, finding the bleeding to be much heavier than what I’d assumed it would be. I grab a clean roll of dressing and re-wrap the wound while applying pressure on the brachial artery on the inside of his bicep. The wrap was too low before and wasn’t offering enough compression. He’s lost a lot of blood between the time he arrived and now. His lips have a blue tint, and I’m not comfortable with the level of paleness.
“We need blood, Isabel. Where is Nancy? Can you see if she’s in the next unit?”
“A positive, correct?” Isabel responds.
“Yes, Ma’am, I confirm while scanning down the length of Benjamin’s intake paper.”
“What’s the matter with Benny?” Frank calls over. “He’s not dying or anything, is he?”
“You don’t need to worry,” I respond. “We just need to replace the blood he lost. He’ll be fine.” I’ve gotten good at lying so easily with a complacent smile on my face. I’m certainly not God and will never know who could walk out of here and who will leave beneath a sheet. The information we receive upon intake is never enough to make assumptions or predict an outcome.
Nancy and Isabel are hustling when they return with two pint bags.
“Let me set this up for you so you can clean up,” Nancy offers.
I’m covered in Benjamin’s blood, which has become a common occurrence in our unit the past week with the airmen under attack by the Germans. I think the days of me not having enough to keep my mind occupied are over.
I slowly release the pressure on his artery, hoping not to feel the warmth of another rush of blood. The unease of knowing if what I did was enough, never subsides. We’re all silent for the long few seconds I wait with my hands an inch from his arm.
“You did well, Lieutenant Salzberg,” Nancy says. She’s newer to our unit, brought over to replace a few of our nurses who left for another location. She’s been a nurse for about fifteen years, but only recently completed her basic training after enlisting. It feels unusual to own any semblance of authority over someone who has more experience than me, but we all start at the same place in the Army—the bottom. However, I suspect everyone will view her as a motherly figure around here in no time. She has quickly taken a liking to the rest of us and dotes on us as if we’re her daughters when we aren’t working. It’s been nice having her with us these last couple of weeks.
