Page 24 of The Girls of Pearl Harbor
Teddy, his hand trembling against Grace’s shoulder, stared straight into her eyes. ‘If she’s alive, I’ll get her. I promise,’ he said, before letting go and running back toward the field, back toward the relentless drone, the loud vibrations of enemy aircraft making the walls of Tripler General shake as if a violent earthquake had struck.
‘We need to go. Now,’ April said. Grace could hear her, and she could see her mouth moving, but she couldn’t seem to answer.
‘Grace!’ April yelled.
Her sister grabbed hold of her hand and dragged her, and she stumbled forward, trying not to fall, her jaw hanging open as another man was rushed past them, as sirens wailed louder nearby, as she stared at a trail of blood that one nurse slipped on right in front of her. It was like red sauce smeared across the ground, leaving a gruesome trail.
Grace yanked her hand free and doubled over as nausea took hold, vomiting all over the floor, the yellow bile mixing with the blood as she tried not to inhale, terrified of breathing in the acrid smell.
‘Grace!’
She ran then, trying to avoid the blood, trying not to think, trying to push away the image of Poppy’s body flying backward as bullets had penetrated her slender body, as her smile had turned to a look of horror. How could that pilot have smiled at her, have looked at her like that and waved, and then gunned down her pretty, fun-loving friend as if he were doing target practice?
‘Grace!’
She turned, her own name echoing in her ears as she stared at her sister. April’s face was tearstained, but she recognized the steely glint in her eye, the determined clench of her jaw. It was the very same look she’d had on her face after they’d buried their mother, the moment they’d walked away from the graveside. She knew that look, and she knew right then that April would know what to do. April would figure this out. April would keep them safe.
‘Grace,’ April said, squeezing her fingers tight. ‘These men need us. We need to save lives today, okay?’
She nodded, still numb. She didn’t evenknowhow to save a life, did she? ‘I can’t,’ she mumbled. ‘I ... I ...’
Grace watched as chaos erupted around them and corpsmen filled the room, carrying bodies and calling orders. Where were they even supposed to start? Another wave of nausea rose within her, but she fought it, swallowing it down, trying to stay focused on her sister as other nurses looked to her too. Some were in their dressing gowns still; others had their hair sticking on end as if they’d just woken, perhaps being pulled from bed as news of the attack had hit. Most looked as lost as she felt.
Doctors ran in, their white coats setting them apart from the other men in the hospital.
‘Mark them on the forehead with a redMwhen they’ve had morphine,’ April yelled out. ‘And aTfor their tetanus shot. We need to know who’s had what. You can do this, Grace—I know you can.’
‘What do I use?’ she cried.
‘Your lipstick! Anything!’ April called back.
‘I can do that,’ Grace managed, fumbling in her pocket for her lipstick. ‘I can do that,’ she said again, almost to convince herself.
The corpsman closest to her put up his hand. ‘Me too; I’ll help with that.’
The building rattled, and a large boom sent tremors through Grace’s body and fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.
‘The rest of you either assist with initial assessments or help to set up theaters. We’re equipped to deal with burns and surgeries, but there’ll be more than we’re prepared for,’ called out a dark-haired doctor, possibly the doctor April had assisted the day before. ‘Take the dead straight to the morgue; if there’s not enough space, put them in the adjoining room. And if any man’s too far gone, then he goes there too. We’ve only got enough space for the living and those who are going to make it.’
Grace looked up, wondering if she’d heard right. They were to take men who weren’t even dead yet to the morgue? She swapped glances with her sister, knowing from the pain in her gaze that she’d indeed heard correctly.
A flurry of activity behind her alerted Grace to more patients being brought in, and she scanned them for Poppy, looking for her familiar silhouette, wondering if it could be her. There had to be a chance she was still alive, that she’d survived the attack. But all she saw was blood. There was no time for these men to be tidied up—it was blood and gore like she’d never expected to see in her lifetime, nothing like their training. This was war.
‘Nurse!’ She spun around and gagged at a man lying with his clothes shredded, bloodied face and closed eyes making it hard to tell if he was even alive or not, but his hand twitched, and she watched as his mouth opened and he cried out, more animal than human.
April was gone now. There was no one to help her, no one to tell her that everything was going to be fine.
She ran to the supplies cupboard and found the vials of morphine and syringes, hands shaking as she carried it all.
‘We need more morphine and tetanus shots!’ she called to a corpsman, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Bring it to me—we need to give it to every patient.’
She ran back to the patient who’d been covered in blood and found three more just like him, lined up and waiting. She almost tripped over a foot sticking out from beneath one of the beds, and when she bent to look, it tucked back under.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Making space for those who need it,’ a man nursing his arm and dragging an injured leg said. ‘Give my bed to someone else.’
She didn’t have time to tell him off, because he was right, they did need the space, and she’d already seen plenty of men leave their beds and rip off bandages to get out to fight. She quickly grabbed a cloth, rubbed a space on the first man’s forehead, and marked him with anMas he writhed in pain, before inserting a needle into his arm and injecting him with morphine. She looked at his wounds and wanted to give him tetanus, too, but she was still waiting on the supplies.
