|
Review This Novel Chapter; Help It Become A 5-Star Legend |
|
If you were a war bride, the author would appreciate it if you would answer her |
"Mary Rose O'Donnell"
Love Under Fire, The War Brides
by
Alice Bateman
CHAPTER EIGHT
Once again, it has been a few weeks since I've found an opportunity to sit down and write in you, Diary. The days fly by in a haze of blood and damaged young men. I am still at the same field hospital as before, and have learned that I can't even write down bare descriptions of the landscape or the layout of this place. There are so many restrictions on us, to maintain the secrecy of our operations here. When I write letters home, I can't say anything about anything, just basically hello, it's Mary Rose, I'm fine, don't worry about me.
But I'm not fine. Some days I'm sorry that I joined the Red Cross. Getting the boys right off the battle fields is so much more horrible than the work I did at home. At home, we were getting the ones who'd already been patched up at a place like this, and only those who were still alive. Here, we have a high percentage of ones who die almost immediately, if not on the transport. I try to keep my emotions and my heart out of my involvment here, but it's nearly impossible some days.
I don't want to talk about this place today. I want to remember quieter, peaceful times. I want to go back in my mind to the smell of the wild heather on the hillsides, to the gentle lapping of the ocean against the pier as the sun slowly sets in the ocean. To the times when the only lights in the sky were the sun, moon, stars and rainbows. When the only explosions were thunder.
God, how I wish this war had never happened. How I wish that I had not had to live in these years of heartbreak and death all around. How I wish I could erase all the sounds and smells of my daily exisence!
Oh, sometimes I am just so selfish! I am here, I am healthy and alive, when so many are dead or worse, still living, with only half a body, or half a mind. And I whine about how little I can write in a letter. At least I still have two hands and two arms to write my letters home, no matter how limited I am in what I can say.
I'm really annoyed with myself, Diary. There's another young man who likes me, and I like him too. And I don't want to feel this way. He's a soldier, a Canadian soldier, really from Canada this time. A farm in rural Ontario. We've heard such wonderful stories about Canada, the land of opportunity, wide open spaces, huge fertile farms. All the young men are very nice, thoughtful and polite. But Robert is very special.
He's here recovering from a large and nasty gash in his thigh, been here for two weeks or so already. He was hit by a flying piece of metal when a jeep he had just gotten out of a few minutes earlier exploded. Twenty-one years old, blue eyed, and blonde curly hair. He's so adorable, like an angel in the midst of hell. I want him to stay here, not go back to the fighting, but he's already been up on crutches, so it won't be long until he gets sent back. At first, he was deaf from the concussion of the explosion, but his hearing returned after a couple of days.
Robert seemed so helpless when he first arrived, I just wanted to put my arms around him and hold him. There was something about the bewildered expression on his face when he woke up and couldn't hear anything, he just touched my heart in a very special way. We've gone for a few walks together, not very far of course, just to the woods behind us - him on his crutches, me on my two good sturdy legs.
I know now why some of the young men feel guilty when they are still alive and most of their platoon is dead. That's how I've been feeling too - guilty that I'm still healthy and whole, and angry because I can't go to fight, just because I'm a woman! Who made that rule anyway, that women can't fight? I know the logic behind it, of course. They keep saying that they need the women to 'keep the home fires burning,' and lots of women are working at jobs now that were always done by men before. So we're getting a little more freedom, but I hate this war so much, I want to fight, and so do lots of other women. Maybe we could help end this quicker if we had more personnel, and there are a lot of girls my age and a little older that would be very happy to pick up a gun.
Robert scares me to death. The feelings I have for him terrify me. We were sitting in a little glade under a tree yesterday, freezing of course because it's still winter, but not really feeling the cold too much when we were beside each other. He reached over and took my hand in his, and gave me such a loving look with his big blue eyes, my heart just melted on the spot. Then he sort of leaned toward me as if to kiss me, but I drew away. When he saw the tears in my eyes, he put his arm around my shoulder and asked me what was wrong, and said he was sorry, but he thought I liked him.
I told him, I do like you, that's the big problem. And you could go back to the front any time now, and the next time I see you, you could be a corpse.
That was an awful thing for me to say to him. He turned completely white, then recovered himself and held me in his arms while I cried, and told him about Theo. He kept patting my back and saying "It's OK, Mary Rose, it's OK, I promise you I won't die, I promise."
Robert wants me to become engaged to him before he goes back to his unit. I'm in an agony of indecision. I don't know what to tell him, and I only have a few days to decide before he has to go back. He makes my heart pound whenever I glance at him, or someone says his name. But how can I feel like this, when it hasn't been such a long time since Theo was killed? I feel like a traitor to Theo.
I've talked to Vivian, another of the girls here, about this. She just keeps reminding me that Theo is gone, and I'm still here, and have to live my life. She's said maybe Theo was just for awakening me to womanhood, to bring my feelings to the surface, and now that I've felt what it's like to love, I can give that love to someone else. I just don't know!!!!!
I wish I could talk to my mother or my sisters. Even though I've never really been close with my sisters, there are times when family is all that you want. I've never been separated from my family before, I always took it for granted that life would continue as it was, that they'd always be there for me when I needed them..... and now it's me that's not there.
And the ocean! I had no idea how much I would miss the ocean. It was always just there, like my family. Amazing how we don't appreciate things until they're taken away from us, or we remove ourselves from them. On days like today, it seems like I'll never see my home or my family again.
None of this is helping me to decide what to do about Robert. At least we'd still be in the same country for now, so I could see him when he got leave even for a day. He's a jeep driver, so he gets the use of one sometimes when he's on leave. But I'm so afraid of losing him! Is it better to just let him go, and live without love, or to say yes, and pray that we'll both live out the war? There's a chaplain here, of course, he could marry us whenever we wanted, but that's certainly not the kind of wedding I've always pictured for myself.
Somehow I have to convince myself that these are the times I'm living in, and I have to accept circumstances as they are, and not to be always wishing and daydreaming for something that cannot be right now. This is so very difficult, and everything seems much more insurmountable when you're exhausted, as I am right now. We have been so intensely busy over the last several weeks, it seems there are more and more wounded and dead every day! And yet, we seem to be making no real progress towards ending this war. There's even talk that we'll have to push back our hospital, because the German's are advancing. I hope this is just a rumour. I can't imagine that God would let the Germans win this, with their insane leader!
I might as well stop writing for now, Diary. I have no idea when I'll get time to open you again, either. We're only being allowed one afternoon off per week right now, and usually I have to spend this taking care of my uniforms and sleeping! There is never enough sleep, never enough warmth...... Oh, I'm just going to say goodbye to you for now, I hate myself when all I can do is whine!