Everett has a pained look upon his face. “I don’t want to wonder which of us will be the last one to come home.”
“Then don’t. It will happen. Life isn’t a race, it’s just time unfolding the way it’s supposed to.”
I kiss Everett’s lips and do everything possible to hold back the hot tears burning the backs of my eyes. “Everything will be okay.”
“You keep saying this,” he whispers.
“We have to believe it. It’s the only way we’ll get through this.”
“Lizzie,” he mutters.
“What is it?” I trace my fingers around his ear.
“I know you think I don’t understand everything, but when I asked you to marry me, I was serious.” He takes my hand away from his face and kisses my ring finger. “It’s the first thing I want to do when we both get home.”
“The very first thing,” I promise. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of our lives—at home together.”
Everett quirks a small smile. “That’s all I need to get by.”
47
March 1945
If someone toldme seventeen weeks ago, that the worst was yet to come, I’m not sure I would have believed them, but for months on end, we have been within enemy lines, being shot at day and night while doing everything in our power to keep the patients safe. What looks like fireworks at night are flares lighting up the sky with artillery. The organization in Germany is not the same as it was in France. We’ve moved several times, which has meant transporting patients through battle zones while keeping an eye out for potential attacks. Whenever we find ourselves situated for a short time, it gives us just enough minutes or hours to tally up how much we have lost.
All our men’s faces look the same now. The weak, tired, hopeless look in their eyes matches the way I feel inside. We’ve lost so many, and yet until these past few weeks, we would continue to bring in more casualties, amputate more limbs, patch up missing eyes, and do our best to keep these men alive. But lately, we have noticed less American casualties among our patients. I’m not sure if this is a sign of accomplishment or utter failure.
Captain Landry told us we are coming toward the end of our travels as we approach the southern region of Germany, but it doesn’t mean much at this point since we have lost all sense of hopefulness.
The battle is not over, and the damage to the villages we travel through is ongoing and incomprehensible. War was incited and carried out by an enemy with no regard for innocent lives lost or civilians stripped of all they hold dear. Homes of the innocent are in piles of ashes on the ground, and rubble, debris, and soot cover every inch of the cobblestone roads. Families stand helpless in the streets, starving, pale, and frozen with no idea what to think when they see an American passing by.
Swastikas decorate every square foot of these small towns and I can’t help but wonder if Hitler knows what his army has done to their own while on their quest to eradicate all Jews and other innocent people who don’t meet his standards of perfection. No person with a beating heart could bear witness to these sights without falling apart and call themselves a human. The monster named Hitler has destroyed so much of the world, and here I am standing in the center of his evil. Nazis still march the streets with their fear tactics and weapons as if they have won the battle—the one they are so clearly losing.
“Do you see that, up ahead?” Maggie asks. We’re riding in the back of one of our ambulatory vehicles, and from what we know, we’re making our way to a city in need of urgent medical care for allied troops, suffering civilians, and some liberated prisoners.
“What are you looking at?” Beverly asks.
Maggie places her hands on the back of my head, tilting my focus to the right. I narrow my eyes to make out what I’m seeing. “Stop the vehicle,” I shout, banging on the metal sides.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asks.
“What do you mean? You see what I see, don’t you?”
“There are Nazi’s pushing along a parade of prisoners, yes, Lizzie. We all see it.” Beverly adds.
“We have to help.”
Maggie grabs my hand so firmly, I almost yelp. “Are you out of your mind? They will kill you without hesitation. You can’t go out there, Lizzie. You can’t.”
“Where are they taking all of those people?” I realize Maggie doesn’t have the answer to my question, but I thought the prisoners are in camps. Now they’re walking through the woods, barefoot in nothing more than pajamas. The officer riding in the front of our vehicle approaches the back gate of the vehicle. “What’s the problem?”
I point through the thin leafless trees. Some prisoners spot us and stop in their tracks to observe the distraction in what could be their path to safety. “We have to help them,” I repeat.
“We don’t have the means to go head-to-head with a group of Nazis, nor do the three of you know how to fight.”
“Give me a weapon,” I demand.
“Ignore her, Sir. She needs more sleep, and she’s—” Maggie tries to stop me.
