Chapter Text
I hung precariously from the maple's limb, struggling to peer into the mockingbird's nest. My heart sank as I discovered only two of the frantic mother's eggs remained; one broken and oozing the soup of life, the other poignantly intact. Then the parent swooped in and flicked my hair. I screamed. Suddenly, the bird's raspy chattering changed to Mary O'Leary's calls. "Therese, wake up!" She shook my shoulder, pleading, "Darlin', you're havin' a nightmare...wake up!"
I stirred and sat up, startled and woozy. At least, I had no urge to vomit; three days into our Atlantic crossing, and my sea sickness had subsided.
Mary said, "I'm sorry to disturb your nap, Therese, but something was after ya in that dream and—"
"No, it's alright, Mary. Thanks. A bird, uh. Well, never mind." I checked the watch, pinned to my uniform's lapel. "Jesus, it's 1512."
Mary chuckled as she handed me a glass of water. "Yes, and our time to go on deck has already begun. Drink that, sweetie, and let's grab some fresh air. The day's rains have passed, and we're missing a glorious afternoon."
I complied, draining the glass, then standing. I asked, "Do we need our capes?"
"That we do, Lt. Belivet; it's pretty but brisk and breezy on deck."
I slipped on my heavy olive drab wool cape and grinned, "Very well, Lt. O'Leary, lead on."
We stepped on deck to find a score of our sister nurses and nigh a hundred WACs. Rail thin and tall, Bonnie Rawlings closed, asking, "Where have you two been? I was beginning to think y'all would miss this sunshine." I loved her Charleston, South Carolina, use of 'y'all.'
Mary poked my arm, teasing, "Oh, our dear Therese was dreamin' again...this time about a mean bird."
Bonnie chuckled, "A mean bird?"
Embarrassed, I tried to explain, "It wasn't a mean bird, it was a mother mockingbird. A cat had been threatening her nest for days."
Mary asked, "Days? Jeez, Therese, was this triggered by a real-life experience?"
"Yes. You see, the cat couldn't climb the spindly crape myrtle limbs the nest was in, so the attack degraded into an extended, torturous siege. I eventually shooed the cat away, and curiosity led me to climb a nearby maple to see if the bird even had any babies or eggs. There was one broken egg and one intact one left. I reasoned that the mother bird had been so distracted by the battle that she had destroyed her family. I was nine, and I'm not sure how I avoided breaking my neck."
My companions offered consoling smiles, and Bonnie asked, "Do you have that dream often?"
"I used to, but this was the first in a long time...years."
Mary sighed, "Our Therese...the savior of broken soldiers and now, all the rest of God's troubled creatures."
I spoke to change the subject, "Bonnie, your dad is a shrimper, right?"
"That's right, he has his own boat, Sweet Gladys."
I noted, "Oh, after your mom?"
"That's right, why do you ask, Therese?"
Gazing out at the white caps, I replied, "Well, with you being from a family of salts, how fast are we going?"
Bonnie replied, "Oh, 26 or maybe 28 knots. I remember reading about the Queens in the paper back before the war."
I continued, "Please don't laugh at my ignorance, but how does that compare to, let's say, a convoy of freighters and tankers?"
Bonnie patted my shoulder, smiling, "It's not a dumb question, darlin'. Speed was everything to those big passenger liner companies, braggin' rights, ya know. But thank goodness it worked out well for those of us traveling off to war. These big twins are too fast for convoys plodding along at 15 knots, so they cruise wide open, and I imagine they zigzag. Between our speed and the constant shifts in course, the German U-boats can't even get a shot at us."
Mary opined, "Well, that's good, cause that big ocean looks cold."
Bonnie remarked, "It is cold. Even this late in March, the water temperature is barely above freezing."
I said, "Thanks, Bonnie, you're a smart cookie."
"More like a smart kookie," she grinned.
We laughed, then lit cigarettes and began to stroll. Weaving our way between the women from all across the United States, we loved overhearing the varied accents. We were three of 46 nurses on board, and almost 400 women by our rough headcount. But such information was not part of casual conversation. You know, Loose lips sink ships, and all.
The thousand-foot ocean liner's striking black, white, and red peacetime colors were long gone, replaced with somber battleship gray. Also stripped of her civilian finery, the RMS Queen Elizabeth could carry thousands of troops. Gazing up and down the ship from the deck, we estimated that at least 15,000 olive-drab-clad souls were on board.
Our supper slot was the first one, 1600. The military was faring better than our homefront civilians when it came to chow. We had sliced ham, peas, corn, and freshly baked rolls that evening. The coffee and square of white cake were decent, too.
There were six of us Army nurses in our cabin, a converted First Class bathroom. We played Gin Rummy until cross-eyed, then crawled or climbed into our berths. I prayed that the troubling dream would not return. Tomorrow would be 30 Mar 44, and some of the crew had slipped us the news that we were making excellent time and would dock by 1 Apr 44. We had not been told, but everyone knew our destination was Southampton, England. The invasion of mainland Europe was imminent, and nurses would be needed, lots of nurses.