On Distant Shores (18 page)

Piana di Caiazzo
October 31, 1943

Rough-hewn men’s voices sang out “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty,” graced with a handful of high notes from the nurses. Sunday morning services were the only time officers and enlisted mixed. Hutch shared a hymnal with Bergie, his friend’s off-key bass a reminder of home.

Praise to the Lord, who o’er all things so wondrously reigneth,

Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!

Hast thou not seen

How thy desires e’er have been

Granted in what He ordaineth?

Hutch prayed the verse for Georgie, to see the Almighty’s hand in her life, to be sheltered under the Lord’s wings, for God to grant her wisdom and strength.

Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;

Surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.

Ponder anew

What the Almighty can do,

If with His love He befriend thee.

The verse grabbed Hutch’s voice and shook it.
Who doth prosper thy work and defend thee?
That’s what he needed—for God to prosper his work and defend him. The Army certainly wouldn’t do so.

He sang the final verse mechanically while his soul called out to God.
I need your help. I need that letter to get into the Corps, and I know it’s your will for me to join. Show me how to change Kaz’s mind. Prosper my work. Defend me.

After the chaplain spoke the closing prayer, Bergie settled his hand on Hutch’s shoulder. “How’re you doing, buddy? Five years is a long time.”

Five years? Oh, Phyllis. Hutch cracked a smile. Only five days had passed since her Dear John letter, but it felt like a lifetime ago. “Actually, I’m fine about that. Relieved, in fact.”

Bergie’s blue eyes homed in on him. “Yeah? Glad you found out her character before you were married?”

“Definitely. But more than that. I’ve had second thoughts for a long time. We weren’t good for each other.”

“Too much alike,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he’d noticed too.

“Wasn’t that why you introduced us?”

“Yeah.” He led the way down the aisle, past the crates that served as pews, but he stepped to the side before the tent entrance, where the ranks divided again.

Bergie crossed his arms over his field uniform, his Bible in one hand. “When I met Phyllis, she reminded me of you. I thought you needed someone like you. But now I have Lillian.”

“Mm-hmm. You broke the three-month barrier.”

“You know why? Because she’s nothing like the girls I usually date. I’ve always liked them fun and lively, but it never worked out. Lillian’s gentle and peaceful. She’s good for me, and I think I’m good for her too.”

Hutch ran his thumb along the black leather spine of his
Bible, the gold lettering long gone. “You’re strong where she’s weak, and vice versa. Phyllis and I were both weak in the same areas. That’s not what I want.”

“You need someone more like . . . me.” He grinned.

Hutch rubbed his jaw. “A girl who needs a shave?”

Bergie laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You seemed down earlier today, but you’ll be fine. I see that now.”

He winced and glanced around the tent, mostly empty. “I’m not down because of Phyllis. It’s Kaz. Your pal Chadwick gave him the line about the Pharmacy Corps being unnecessary and worse—usurping physician authority. Kaz refused to write the letter.”

“You’re kidding? What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Would’ve said something rash and shot myself in the foot.” Pale, cloud-filtered sunlight slanted through the tent entrance, a reminder he needed to complete his mission. “I’m going to talk to him now. As long as I’m respectful and logical, he’ll listen.”

“Kaz?” Bergie wrinkled his nose. “The same man who listened to logic after he alphabetized your shelves? I don’t think so. You need help.”

“What? No.” The last thing he needed was a Bergie scheme. “I can do this myself.”

Bergie stepped outside and strode down the path.

Hutch jogged to catch up. “Berg—Captain, really. I can do it myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He nodded to a trio of nurses. “If he only listens to physicians, he needs to hear another side of physician thinking. I have a plan.”

Hutch stopped. His head flopped back, and he closed his eyes. “Not one of your plans.”

“Who’s on today? Dom? Ralph? Go get the other one. I’ll get Kaz. Meet me in Pharmacy.” He marched away. “Trust me.”

How many times had he heard that phrase? How many disasters had it preceded?

Hutch stared at the thick gray sky. “Lord, so gently sustain me.”

“Have a seat, Lieutenant.” Bergie pulled up a crate for Kaz. “Hutch won’t toot his own horn, so we’ll do it for him.”

Hutch tugged the hem of his service jacket. He’d worn his dress uniform so he’d look like officer material. “Pardon me, sir. This was not my idea.”

Lieutenant Kazokov shot him a skeptical look.

“It wasn’t.” Bergie set his foot on another crate and leaned his forearms on his knee. “Captain Chadwick gave you his opinion on the Pharmacy Corps, and I want to give you another physician’s opinion. As a man of integrity, I’m sure you’ll listen to both sides.”

“Of course.” Kaz sniffed, then wiped his nose with his handkerchief. “I pride myself on my open-mindedness.”

“Understandably so.” Bergie nodded. “Did you know only a few mobile hospitals have a pharmacist on staff?”

“Yes. I’m aware of that.”

“Great. We take Hutch for granted, but I had no idea how good we had it. Recently a number of physicians transferred here from other evac and field hospitals. They say we have the best pharmacy in the theater. Sergeant Hutchinson anticipates our needs, meets our orders, and answers our questions. Always professional and caring.”

“Thanks,” Hutch said. “Just doing my job.”

“Doing it well.” Bergie pointed at him. “Say, Lieutenant, remember when we arrived in Sicily, and no one had aspirin? Hutch made it from scratch, even made some for other hospitals and the air evac squadron.”

“We couldn’t have done that.” Dom waved the pharmacy technician manual. “It’s not in here.”

“No, sir.” Ralph straddled a crate and rapped his knuckles on the wood. “When we have shortages—and we always have shortages—he knows what to substitute.”

Bergie’s eyes shone as they always did when his plans rolled along. “And that little Italian girl? She refuses to let us put in an IV. Terrifies her. Hutch puts her sulfa in a suspension, a different flavor each day, just for fun.”

Hutch smiled. Lucia’s favorite flavor was orange.

“He also teaches us.” Dom tapped the manual into his open palm. “Not only how to do stuff, but why it works the way it does.”

Hutch slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “You two are good learners. You’re smart and fast.”

Ralph glanced up at him. “We couldn’t do it without you. Just imagine. Most hospitals have to get by with clods like us.” A wink. Ralph was laying it on thick.

“You’re not clods. Not by far. But . . .” Time to press his own case. “But Lieutenant Kazokov, sir, that’s my point. The purpose of the Pharmacy Corps is to ensure that all hospitals, all patients have the best care.”

Bergie flicked his chin at Hutch. “John Hutchinson is the man to do it. The Army needs him in the Pharmacy Corps—which is already signed into law, by the way, so why fight it? Not only is he a good pharmacist, but he has three years’ experience in Army hospitals. He knows what works and what doesn’t. Plus, he has connections, friends in high places . . .”

Kaz regarded Hutch, one eyebrow hiked high.

Hutch gave him a slow nod. “I need to make one thing clear, sir. I have no desire to usurp physician authority. Good pharmacy practice works alongside good medical practice, a team.”

“No doubt about it.” Bergie clapped a hand on his knee. “The Pharmacy Corps needs him. It wouldn’t be fair of us to keep him here.”

“That’s the only bad part,” Dom muttered. “It’ll just be Ralph and me.”

A twinge of guilt. The patients here needed him. But the Corps was bigger and promised to bring the same level of service to all hospitals. It was his duty and purpose.

Bergie motioned with his thumb toward the tent entrance. “Chadwick’s a great physician, but he’s old-fashioned, not a forward-thinking modern man like you, Lieutenant. Most of the docs agree with me. Ask them. Colonel Currier agrees. That’s why he wrote Hutch a glowing letter. Ask him. But please write this letter for Hutch. Please don’t stand in the way of progress.”

No one—no one could lay it on thicker than Capt. Nels Bergstrom.

Kaz’s gaze circled the men and landed on Hutch. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Hutch swallowed hard. “Please, sir. I would never forget your kindness.”

Kaz slapped both hands on his thighs and stood. “All right then. You’ll have your letter tonight. I pride myself on my progressiveness.”

All the wind rushed from Hutch’s lungs. “Thank you, sir. I’m forever in your debt.”

After Kaz left, Bergie turned glittering eyes to Hutch. “Forever in
his
debt?”

“And yours. And Dom’s and Ralph’s. And God’s.” His cheeks hurt from the breadth of his smile. “‘Ponder anew what the Almighty can do’—with a little help from Bergie.”

Piana di Caiazzo
November 6, 1943

Georgie stepped carefully along the logs of a “corduroy road” through the 93rd Evacuation Hospital. Even so, mud oozed up between the logs.

What happened to sunny Italy?

She stopped and gazed around. Capped with fuzzy clouds, steep green hills jutted up around the village of Piana di Caiazzo. The hospital seemed busier than ever, with patients arriving by ambulance, jeep, and mule.

She forged ahead. Ralph O’Shea said Hutch was probably doing laundry on his day off.

So much had changed in the past month. The 802nd was now stationed near Naples, conducting air evac for the US Fifth Army along Italy’s west coast, while the 807th covered the British Eighth Army along the east coast.

Georgie was disappointed when Lieutenant Lambert sent her up to Capua with Captain Maxwell. She wanted to fly and prove herself. But when she found out the 93rd was stationed across the Volturno River from Capua, she changed her mind.

Why was Hutch still in Italy? What was holding up the
Pharmacy Corps? Was he doing all right after Phyllis’s betrayal? What if he hadn’t received the letter yet? And if he had, would he be angry with Georgie for her role?

She chewed her lower lip and paused on the pathway that divided the wards from the enlisted men’s tents. Up a short ways, a giant Lister bag full of disinfected water hung from a wooden tripod, and half a dozen men gathered around, shaving and washing faces and scrubbing laundry.

One man sat on a camp stool, his back to her, long and lean, and he swiped a comb through wet dark hair.

Hutch.

In that moment the fullness of her crush flooded back into her, stronger now that both of them were unattached, the double barrier dissolved.

She gave her head a good strong shake. Very recently unattached. After long relationships. And his had a frightful ending. Besides, he liked tall serene blondes, not short bubbly brunettes.

But he was a friend. The dearest, big brotherly friend, and she longed to know how he was doing.

She came up behind him and cleared her throat. “Hutch?”

The comb paused. His head turned, and a smile enveloped his face. “Georgie.”

He sprang to his feet, moved closer as if about to hug her, then stopped short. But his smile didn’t falter. “You’re back. What are you doing here?”

My, he looked good, towering over her, clean and shiny with his wet hair slicked back. She had to clear her throat again. “I could ask you the same thing. I hoped you’d be gone. Well, not that way. I hoped you’d be away with the Pharmacy Corps.”

“It’s moving along as slowly as the US Fifth Army.” His field jacket hung open over his bare chest.

Oh my. Her cheeks warmed, and she wrenched her gaze back up to his face. “That’s too bad. I know you want to join.”

He fumbled with his jacket buttons and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Just showered. I’m washing my shirts.” He nodded toward his helmet on the ground, filled with sudsy water.

“No need to apologize.” She could mention she’d seen his bare chest before, but ladies didn’t speak of such things. Or think of such things.

“I turned in my application. Dad says the next step is a test. So I wait.” His eyes grew warmer than hot chocolate. “Wow, it’s good to see you.”

Oh dear. A man with a broken heart wouldn’t be in such a good mood. Phyllis’s letter must not have arrived yet. “Have you . . . have you heard from Phyllis lately?”

His mouth pursed as if he were deep in thought. “Yeah. Something about being married, having a baby, and a mean nurse who made her tell the truth. Sound familiar?”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Angry? Are you kidding? I’m grateful. Sounds like she wanted to string me along for the duration.”

“She did. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad I found out.”

She studied him. He looked relieved, as if lightened of a load. “You don’t seem upset.”

He rubbed his jawline, still pink from shaving. “I was when I got the letter, but it didn’t take long to put my head back on straight. After all, she saved me the bother.”

“The bother?”

“Breaking up. We weren’t well suited to each other.” His gaze dropped, then bounced back up. “Say, you haven’t told me why you’re here. Last I heard, you weren’t coming back.”

She stood up tall and straightened her treasured gray-blue jacket, now emblazoned with gold flight nurse’s wings. “You
were right. I can do it. I prayed for wisdom and strength, and I passed with flying colors. They said I was a model flight nurse.”

“I knew you could do it. Your family—Ward—they must be proud of you.”

A wry chuckle. “You’ve never met them. They say it’s too dangerous, that my rightful place is at home.”

“They want to protect you.”

“I suppose. But isn’t the best protection the ability to handle life? They can’t shelter me. No one can. Rose’s death proved it. Tragedies and trials will come, and I want to be prepared.”

A damp lock fell over his forehead, and he raked it back. “Give them time. They’ll see you made the right decision.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her smile wobbled more than she liked. “My family thinks I made a huge mistake. First big decision I made for myself, and it cost me Ward. They say it proves I can’t make decisions.”

His eyebrows pinched together. “It cost you . . .”

“Ward. My former boyfriend. I broke up with him. Or he broke up with me. I’m not really sure, since it was definitely mutual.”

“But you . . . how many years?”

“Nine. Apparently a few too many.” Georgie tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “We’re not . . . we’re not well suited to each other.”

Hutch’s gaze steadied, intensified, and stole her breath clean away. Was he thinking the same thing she was? That
they
were well suited to each other?

Nonsense. She was being silly, just as her family said. Why would he be attracted to her? And even if he were, it was far too early for either of them.

So why hadn’t he broken his gaze?

Before she could do something idiotic like throw herself
into his arms, she glanced at her watch. “Oh dear. I need to be back in Receiving.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He stepped back and rubbed his hand down his cheek. “Too bad. We’ve got a lot of . . . a lot of catching up to do.”

“I know. So much has happened since I saw you last.”

“I haven’t even told you about Lucia.” A smile crept up his face.

And hers crept down against her will. “Lucia?”

“Lucia Benedetti. My girl.”

A local woman. Why did she feel like all the air had been sucked out of her chest? Somehow she kept her smile in place. “Your—your girl. My goodness, that was—fast.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “She’s seven. She’s a patient here. Prettiest little thing you’ve ever seen.”

Seven. She laughed and whapped him lightly on the arm. “Why, you. I should have known you liked them young.”

“Your face. Priceless.”

Not as priceless as his grin, or the knowledge that he was teasing her, or the delight of seeing his mischievous side. “I wish we had more time to chat.”

“Me too. Will you be back?”

“We’re stationed at Pomigliano Airfield outside of Naples. We’ll be up to Capua and Caserta—” An idea slipped into her mind, the sweetest idea she’d had in ages. The 802nd was being honored at a dinner at the palace in Caserta the following Saturday. Right across the river. With a little finagling . . . “When’s your next day off?”

“Next Saturday. A week from today. Why?”

She planted her fists on her hips and gave him her fiercest drill sergeant look. “You, sir, are under strict orders not to eat dinner that evening. You have volunteered yourself for the most dangerous mission of your life, soldier.”

“I have?” The curve of his lips said she didn’t look fierce at all.

Georgie deepened her scowl. “Five o’clock sharp. You’ll accompany me on a special assignment. You will bring your telescope. You will endure my silly chatter. You will eat my campfire cooking. No questions. No complaints.”

“No, ma’am!” He snapped a sharp salute, taller than ever. “No complaints, ma’am. Absolutely none.”

“Good.” She returned to Southern belle and gave him her most charming smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.” He might not have any complaints, but dozens of questions flitted through his eyes. “See you next week.”

“Next week, then.” She fluttered a wave and turned toward Receiving. She’d need the week to ponder the answers.