December, 1944
The French/Belgian Border

Lucille sat by the open flap in the covered bed of the transport, thankful for the chance to catch the fresh morning air. It was worth the heart rending view of a land cut up by invasion.

"Where are you from, Swain?"

She glanced across at Florence Wilkins where she sat beside Masie. Florence's blonde hair was perfectly coiffed beneath her helmet, her hand hanging delicately in the air with a cigarette poised between her fingertips. She was fresh from the states, a recent nursing grad from Tennessee. Despite their dour surroundings, she looked fit for a movie screen. Her red lips parted as she attempted a grin, though there was no friendliness in it.

"Kansas."

"What does your daddy do?" Her southern drawl lent a softness to her vowels.

"He's a Presbyterian minister."

They all knew Florence was as rich as Midas. What she was doing there tending the wolves in the midst of active combat was beyond them. None of them had asked either. Ruby had said that she didn't seem worth the effort of getting to know.

"Thinking of going into the family business after all this?" Florence asked, tapping the ash from her cigarette out the edge of the bed.

Lucille ignored her. Ruby snorted in her sleep as she was disturbed by a bump in the rocky road. Her head lolled to the side and came to rest on Lucille's shoulder. Lucille peeked over at the open letter in her friend's lap. It was from Corporal Donald Hoobler, still vowing his eternal love. Fighting a wave of embittered envy over her friend's happiness, Lucille stared back down at the open book on her own lap.

"What is that smell?" Maisie asked, wrinkling her button nose and peering past Florence through the canvas flaps.

Ruby woke, blinking in the watery light. The nurses peered out in time to glimpse a rotting pile of horse corpses fermenting in the chilled drizzle. The mess was a good few feet from the road, but the stench was sickening. Lucille could almost feel it coming out of her eyes.

Florence scoffed. "Horses for warfare? In this day in age? Kraut ingenuity right there, ladies."

A group of men with cloths tied around their mouths and noses dug into the damp earth. An American GI was watching them with his Thompson machine gun at the ready. As they were getting closer to the front, Lucille knew she was looking at her first German POWS. 

They were nothing like the cartoonish buffoons being shown in theaters back home. Their eyes was rank with apathy as they tore into the sod. One of them made eye contact with Lucille. The Wehrmarcht soldier was about Lieutenant Compton's age. Her attention shuddered away to the cloud glazed sky.

"That one took a liking to you, Swain," Florence purred, flicking the cigarette butt into the open air.

Ruby rolled her dark eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Good lord-"

"Don't be stupid, Wilkins," Lucille snapped with an uncharacteristic edge. "Why don't you fix your lipstick or something."

Florence's round eyes widened at her hostility, but a true smile followed on her heart shaped face. It was the first they had witnessed since meeting the Tennessean nurse. 

"Will do, darlin'," Florence winked, digging out a lipstick tube from her coat pocket.

Lucille, Ruby and Maisie had first met Florence in their crossing to the continent a month earlier. They had started their work at the hospitals closer to the shore as Sister Chantal had promised. However, they were soon put on rotation and sent on a transport into the heart of Europe where Gerry was still putting up a fight.

Lucille leaned against the metal railing behind her. Taking a cue from Ruby, she closed her eyes. Sleep was impossible. Especially the closer they drew to the echoes of battle.

They arrived at their first field hospital a couple hours later and were plunged into the throes of combat. The seasoned nurses told them that what they were seeing was nothing. Nothing at all like that first day on the beaches of Normandy. Lucille couldn't imagine such carnage as she pushed up her sleeves and headed towards an artillery shell victim with Florence in tow.

The first shock of blood was the worst, but she acclimated. Lucille worked at the quivering mass of muscle and tendon that clung, stubbornly rooted to the man's thigh bone. Wilkins found his artery and clamped it. In a strange moment of separation from reality, the individuality of the soldier disappeared.

After he died, she stepped away from the stretcher. Florence was gasping as though she'd been held underwater. She desperately tried to catch Lucille's eye as she stared into the man's grey face. Florence reached over and shut his glassy stare. Lucille wiped her hands on her apron.

"You ladies did well. Go have a smoke," one of the veteran nurses said as she came alongside them and covered the ruined body with a wool blanket. 

Florence followed Lucille without a word out the side flap of the hospital. She handed Lucille a cigarette and lit it before her own. Taking a moment to let the smoke flood her chest, Lucille sank onto an empty pile of boxes next to the tent. Sister Chantal's warning reverberated in her chest and for a moment, a sting of panic ran through her brain. Lucille wondered if they had bitten off more than they could chew.

"So, you have a man?"

Lucille snorted out a cloud of smoke, the December mist feathering around their bodies, "What?"

Florence shrugged. "You got somebody back home?"

"No. Thankfully." Lucille shook her head, trying to ignore the cries of agony in the hospital behind her.

"Thankfully?"

Lucille met Florence's quizzical stare. "What's the point at being tied down at a time like this?"

With a short laugh, Florence lowered herself gracefully down next to Lucille. "Definitely didn't expect that from a minister's daughter."

"You'd be surprised," Ruby announced herself, ducking out of the tent. Lucille's gaze was drawn directly to the smear of blood on her friend's neck, the same place she had one that day of the accident in Aldbourne.

"You wish you stayed in England now?" Lucille asked her friend, handing her a cigarette.

Ruby arched a dark brow as Florence lit the smoke for her. "Haven't been here long enough to decide."

Florence hummed a laugh in her long throat. "How long do you need?"

Lucille shook her head, silently agreeing with the southern belle. Taking another drag, she studied the icy yard slowly filling with soldiers. Their uniforms were unfamiliar, being mostly infantry. After months of working with paratroopers, the difference between the men was glaringly obvious. Yet, a familiar face jumped out at her as a soldier hopped from an army jeep.

"Bill Guarnere?" Lucille let out a smoky chuckle.

"What?" Ruby barked, trying to find her line of sight.

Buck and Hoobler's friend removed his helmet, squinting in the pale light as he rubbed a hand through his dark hair. He saw them before they could say anything. Bill smirked, approaching with his swaying strut. 

"Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes?"

Pulling Lucille into a side hug, she tried to keep from smearing gore on him. Even though his manner was friendly, seeing him again was like being stabbed by nostalgia. She tried to keep a straight face and forbid her mind from wandering towards Buck Compton yet again. He greeted Ruby then let out a low whistle as he turned to Florence.

"And who is this?" He gave the blonde nurse a wink.

"This is Florence Wilkins. And way above your paygrade, son," Florence replied dryly, rolling her eyes in Ruby's direction.

Guarnere's strong jaw loosened as he openly admired her. "A feisty broad, huh-"

"Have you seen Donald Hoobler?" Ruby interjected, intently studying the crowd of men behind him for her sweetheart.

"Don't get your hopes up. They transferred me to work as a runner since I went AWOL. They aren't planning another jump for us for another few months so he's bidding his time in France with the rest of the boys," Guarnere explained, his eyes flickering over to Lucille when he mentioned the rest of his company. No doubt he was thinking of the last time they saw each other when she and Buck had broken it off.

An uncomfortable silence threatened the group. Florence tossed her cigarette to the ground and it sizzled out. "We'd better get back to it then-"

"Say, Miss Wilkins, you seeing anybody-"

"None of your business," Florence cut him off. Ruby smirked as she followed close behind back into the tent. Lucille gave a final smile before turning on her heel.

"Lucie-" Guarnere coughed into his glove. Lucille glanced back at him. "Shit, I really shouldn't say anything about it."

"Say anything about what?"

"Buck."

Lucille's heart dropped into her stomach, her mind reeling with all the wounds she had been tending. "What happened? Is he okay? Which hospital was he sent to-"

"Whoa, no nothing like that. Slow down there." He held up his hands with a breathy laugh, "He's in one piece, don't worry."

Struggling to control her pulse, Lucille shook her head. "What then?"

"I know my opinion about you two isn't worth beans, but I don't think you should've done it."

"Done what?"

"Ended it. He's kind of a mess."

Lucille blinked. She tried not to think about how she had silently cried into her pillow for weeks. How every paratrooper she saw enter the hospital in France made her insides cave. How she searched casualty reports and breathed a sigh of relief every time the 'C' section came up empty. Even Ruby was beginning to wonder if all her grief was worth it.

"I know-" Guarnere rubbed the back of his neck. "I know what I think doesn't matter-"

"You're right. It doesn't," Lucille snarled, crossing her arms over her chest and shrinking back.

He paused at her tone and cut his eyes past her shoulder. "But Lucille. He's in a bad place right now. He has been ever since Holland when he got hit. Nobody will say it, but we all think it. Can't you write him?"

It was out of the question. She had written him too many times and all he had done was ignore her. If she had really mattered to him, he wouldn't have let her go. Ruby had told her so a thousand times. 

"Ruby, Maisie and I are stationed here for now. If you get hurt, let one of us know. We'll make sure you're taken care of."

Lucille didn't meet his eyes again as she ducked into the chilled tent and breathed in the metallic air. Grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and some rolled bandages, she walked down the aisle of cots to see if she could fix up one of the men. At least she could fix something there, even if she failed at doing so with her own life.