Page 8 of The Lies We Leave Behind

8

Kate

January 1944

“Kate?”

I groaned and then screamed out in pain as I opened my eyes and reached wildly for something...someone...anything.

“You’re okay.” Char’s face came into view and she grabbed my hands as they flailed and held them tightly to her as she leaned in closer. “You broke your leg during the landing. I’ve splinted it, but it’s gonna hurt like hell until we get you back to base.”

I let out a stream of expletives and she nodded.

“I know,” she said and then turned to look at Gus, who’d just come into view.

“How you doin’, kid?” he asked.

I swore and he laughed. “Sounds about right,” he said and glanced behind him at the patients.

“They okay?” I whispered.

“A few bumps,” Char said. “A lot of whining. But no worse for wear amazingly.”

“You ladies had them strapped in nice and tight,” Gus said.

“And Mac?”

“He’s fine. He took off for base about twenty minutes ago. You were out like a light. I imagine the pain hit you over the head.”

I didn’t remember anything.

“What happened?” I asked.

“That damn utility box they packed came loose,” Char said, wincing and shaking her head as though reliving the moment. “I saw it just in time to move my legs, but apparently you didn’t. It narrowly missed your left leg, but it wedged in pretty damn good against the right one. The guys pulled it away and I splinted it as fast as I could while you were still unconscious.”

“I don’t know how you gals do it,” Gus said. “I nearly lost my lunch at the sight of bone. Mac did lose his. But Char wasn’t fazed in the least.”

She grinned and gave my hand a squeeze.

“That’s the job, right Kate?”

I nodded. “Thanks, Char.” I gestured with my head toward the soldiers still in their bunks. “They really okay?”

“Incredibly,” she said. “Worst injury was that one.” She pointed to my leg and I ventured a look down. My pant leg had been cut away midthigh. Just below my knee it was wrapped, splinted, and bloodstained. There was a sticky pool of red beneath my blood-soaked sock and boot.

“Shit,” I said.

“I think it’s a clean break,” Char said.

It was good news for my healing. But a break was still a break, and that meant I wouldn’t be able to do my job for a long while. Panic filled me as I wondered if I’d be sent home. The thought of leaving depressed me and I tried to push it from my mind as I watched Char move to check on our patients. Correction: her patients. Of which I was now one.

Mac returned not much later with every able-bodied man he’d been able to find on base.

I waved them off as they tried to help me, pointing toward the men in bunks instead.

“Not true,” Mac said when I argued that they were more important. “We need you with two good legs so you can continue to help guys like that.”

“But we need them to fight the war,” I said.

He rolled his eyes, grabbed my bag in one hand, and pulled me to my good leg with the other.

“Let’s go, Campbell,” he said, holding out his arms.

But I shook my head. “No way. I can limp my way back.”

But when I tried to put even the smallest bit of pressure on my broken leg, my eyes filled with tears and I nearly passed out.

“Whoa,” Mac said, reaching out to steady me. “Kate?”

I concentrated on taking in several long breaths before meeting his eyes.

“That offer still open?”

He grinned and held out his arms.

“Stop smiling,” I said as he lifted me.

“Oh hell no. I’m going to enjoy every bit of this. I might even parade you around the base.”

I smacked the back of his head and his laughter filled the air around us.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy,” Char said with a grin when we entered the hospital about thirty minutes later.

“Shut up,” we both said, Mac with a bit of a growl, me tearfully.

“Get her on the table over there,” Doctor Fischer said, pointing to an empty spot. Mac nodded and delivered me carefully to where he’d been directed.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he said.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thanks, Mac.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Char held my hand while the doctor examined my leg, a dose of anesthetic now flowing through my veins and making everything a little bit fuzzy, the pain of my injury nothing more than a bit of irritation and pressure.

“How bad is it?” I asked, watching as the wound was inspected and cleaned.

“As far as breaks go, it’s a good one,” Doctor Fischer said, scribbling something in a brand-new chart with my name on it.

“Good?”

He set the chart down and met my eyes. The look on his face spoke volumes.

“Good as in bad,” he said. “You’re going to need to stay off it for quite a while, I’m afraid. It’s going to require surgery and, while we could do a decent job here, you’ll be far better off and have a better prognosis if you have it done stateside with some therapy after to get you strong and back on your feet again.”

“Stateside?”

While I processed this information, he stood, gave my hand a squeeze, and then signaled to Char, who handed me two pills and a cup of water before grabbing some clean gauze and bandages. I felt her eyes on me, but was unable to look at her for fear I’d start crying.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “They’ll fix you up and you’ll be back in no time.”

But we both knew that might not be the case. My absence would leave a space for someone else to come in. In all likelihood, I’d be sent elsewhere once I was well enough to work again. The thought of leaving my friends, the hospital staff I interacted with daily, this strange and too-hot island with its crazy weather, damn bugs, and creatures making up camp in our beds...

I threw the pills in my mouth, drank the water down, and handed the cup to Char.

“I’ll be here when you wake,” she said.

I nodded, closed my eyes, and drifted off.

I slept fitfully, waking with a cry on my lips as I came to every so often, having shifted my leg unintentionally and sending a fresh wave of pain through it.

Each time I woke I saw Char sitting beside me as promised, a book in her hands, a look of concern on her face as she sat up, prepared to help, and then sat back again as the pain medicine pulled me mercifully under once more.

When I woke fully a few hours later, she was still there. She looked tired, her hair a mess, her clothes wrinkled, but a smile on her face as her eyes met mine.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Whatcha reading?” I asked, my words slurred.

She held her book so I could see the title. Evil Under the Sun by Agatha Christie.

“Is that your diary?” I asked and she threw her head back and laughed, earning her several hushes from the medical staff.

“Sorry,” she whispered and then smacked the side of my bed with the book. “I see the pain medication didn’t dull your humor.”

She stood then and stretched.

“You hungry?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I am. Why don’t I go grab us both some chow.”

She returned a little while later with Paulette, Tilly, and a tray of food. Tilly helped me sit up while Paulette readjusted my blankets, and then Char placed the tray before me.

“I can’t believe this,” Tilly said, sitting at the foot of my bed.

None of us could. It was even more unbelievable when two days later I was being loaded onto a plane for the US, a telegram having been sent to my aunt and uncle ahead of my arrival so they knew I was coming.

“You’ll write?” Char asked as she secured me to my bunk for the ride. I had never once expected to be leaving the island this way, as a patient like the ones I’d cared for over the past many months.

“I will.”

“And send chocolate?” she asked.

I laughed and then winced, gripping the rails and nodding.

“I’ll send what I can.”

“I can’t believe you’re really going. Who’s going to listen to me in the middle of the night? Who will I drag out to get a drink?”

“Paulette?” I whispered and she glared.

“Never. Again,” she said and I grinned.

Paulette and Tilly squeezed in then, trying not to get in the way as soldiers were loaded onto the plane.

“Take care of yourself,” Paulette said.

“Don’t forget about us,” Tilly said. “Write often. I want to hear what it’s like back home. What kind of news they’re getting.”

“I will,” I said. “Promise.”

I’d said goodbye to the rest of the women in our barracks that morning, but most came by anyways. As did Gus and Mac.

“One of the toughest I’ve worked with,” Gus said. “Get better soon and then get your ass back to work. We need you.”

“Will do, Gus.”

He ruffled my hair, gave me one of his gruff goodbyes, and then moved out of the way so Mac could step in.

“Take care, kid,” he said. “Won’t be the same here without you.”

“Thanks, Mac. Keep an eye on Char for me, will you?”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he said, a blush reddening his cheeks.

“And stay safe.”

“You too, kid. Hope we cross paths again soon.”

With last looks, one by one they all took their leave until it was just me and a dozen injured men the medical staff on base had taken care of until it became clear they would not be returning to war. These were the men who would pray to lead a somewhat normal life again without the limbs, and eyes, and mental capacity they were now missing.

The blue sky was as clear as ever, a breeze rustling across the tarmac and through the open door of the plane. It felt like an omen. A sweet send-off from the island where’d I’d made friends, learned a thing or two about my own resilience, and saved more than one life. As much as I wanted the war to end, I crossed my fingers I’d soon be back. That my time serving wouldn’t end like this.

The nurse, a young woman who looked to be around my age, gave me an empathetic smile as she checked my bandages and made sure I was as comfortable as I could be. Behind her, a young man I’d been told was called a medical technician, reviewed the charts of some of the other patients.

“How long were you here?” the nurse asked me.

“Nearly a year. Where did you fly in from?”

“Australia.” She gave me a nervous smile. “This is only my fourth trip.”

“It gets easier,” I said.

“Really?”

“Well, you’ll learn to handle it better as time goes by.”

She leaned toward me, lowering her voice.

“Did you ever throw up?”

“From nerves or an injury?”

“Both?”

I grinned and patted her hand.

“You’re going to be fine.”

The engines started then and she hurried to her seat, fumbling a little as she buckled herself in and then double-and triple-checking she was secure.

I smiled, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep as we sped down the runway and then lifted off.