She nodded and set up a stretcher, gesturing to a couple of her better recovered patients. “Help! Over here, please!”
The two men loaded Corporal Brown onto the stretcher then raced toward the exit.
Wiping sweat off her brow with the heel of her hand, Adele scanned the smoke-filled tent and spotted Jerry, his bandages white in the grey dim. Between his damaged face and those broken ribs of his, she didn’t think he was well enough to be on his feet, at least not without support. She took a step toward him, but just then, everything exploded. The impact shoved her back against an empty bed, and she hesitated, waiting for her head to clear, but the noise was a solid wall of panic, though she heardit all as if through a wad of cotton batten. Confused by the billowing smoke, she clambered to her feet, hoping to determine which direction she faced, but the scene was chaotic. Anyone mobile was rushing to help those who weren’t, and a crew hustled toward a fire blazing in the back—directly where she’d been heading. Her helmet had come loose, so she held it firmly on her head as she moved with purpose toward the flames, her skin burning hotter the closer she got.
The third time they were hit, the blast came from behind, hurtling scissors and scalpels and bandages through the tent like weapons and driving Adele headfirst into the foot of one of the beds. When she came to, she was lying facedown on the ground, the world shifting around her, the muffled roar of fire and panic overwhelming. Her helmet lay six feet away, upside down, and was still spinning. Clenching her teeth against the effort, she clung to the bed frame for balance and struggled upright again. Sensing an unexpected warmth on her brow, she pressed a soot-smeared hand to it. Her fingers came back bloody, but the wound didn’t feel bad enough to keep her from helping. She set her helmet back in place, tugging the strap tightly under her chin this time, then she sought out her charges through the smoke. There was Reilly, leaning on Stowe. Their wide eyes met hers, and she clamped down on her fear. They needed her to be their strength.
“Make your way to the exit. They’re setting up temporary shelters.”
“Do you need me to come back?” Stowe shouted over the bedlam. “I think I can help.”
“If you feel strong enough, that would be very much appreciated.”
She continued forward, spotting Corporal Thomas trapped in his bed. Then there were Grant and Kerr, their hands clamped onto a stretcher as they lugged Clifton out of the chaos. She didn’t see Jerry. Had he gotten out already?
“I’ve got you,” she told Corporal Thomas, helping him stand. He’d lost an entire arm and shoulder the week before, but it was his persistentchest wound that had kept him mostly horizontal. She guided his remaining arm around her, taking on his heavy weight. This was what she was there for. This was her duty. Taking care of these men was everything.
It felt like an excruciatingly long time before the two of them made it to the exit, and an orderly took Thomas from there. Adele turned back to the fray, passing the blurred shapes of Dr. Bertrand, Hazel, Minnie, Lillian, and the others clearing the tent as she made her way back. By now she was using her entire forearm to clear the blood that ran freely from her forehead into her eyes.
Nurse Johnson appeared out of the smoke, her cheeks smudged, straggling wisps of brown hair loose beneath her helmet. “The planes are coming around again. We need to get out now. Are all of yours out?”
“Nearly,” Adele replied, counting off their names. “Taylor, Brown, Thomas, Grant, Kerr, Clifton… Have you seen Clarkson and Arthurs?”
“Bailey brought them out, and he kept going back in. I don’t know how many he and the others managed.” As she spoke, one corner of the tent collapsed, and she grabbed Adele’s arm. “We have to go. Now.”
“I’m missing Bailey and Trent.”
“There’s no time. Let’s go!”
“I’m sorry! I can’t!” She twisted away, heading to the maze of beds, shouting their names over the noise.
“Here!”
She spun toward the sound and spotted a grimy hand waving over the top of a mattress. Out of reflex, she grabbed bandages as she ran. At the back of the tent, she found Jerry Bailey on his knees, pressing a darkening wad of bedsheet against Ian Trent’s neck. Trent’s bloodshot eyes darted desperately between Jerry and Adele, and his pale lips formed words no one could hear.
“Shrapnel,” Jerry said gruffly. Sweat streamed through the dirt and blood on his face. “I couldn’t find bandages, and the stretcher’s way over there.”
Adele saw right away that Trent wasn’t going to survive this no matter how many bandages and stretchers they could gather.
“Corporal Bailey, I—”
His gaze held hers, piercing even in the heavy smoke. “I’m not leaving him to die alone,” he said quietly.
Trent’s mouth was still moving, so Adele leaned down, holding tight to the young man’s cold hand. “Say it again, Ian,” she urged.
“Edith,” he grunted, tears sliding down the sides of his face. “My Edie. Tell her I love her. Tell her I tried.”
“I will, Ian. I will.”
How many times had she witnessed the choked agony of a man’s last words, the pain and fear contorting their expressions until it gave way to grief, even guilt? They wept as they entrusted Adele with their final farewells to their wives, girlfriends, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. They’d promised they’d come home. They’d promised to be with them forever and ever. They’d broken their promises.Tell her I love her.
It didn’t take long before Ian’s hand went slack in hers, and she laid it gently on his unmoving chest.
“We’ll have to leave him here. The planes are coming back.”
Jerry shook his head and reached for the fallen man. Gently, as if he might disturb Trent’s permanent state of sleep, he laid the body over his shoulder then looked at Adele. Before she could react, his fingers went to her brow.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, showing her proof.
