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There was a small chateau well behind them where the senior officers
were billeted, including the general who was their commanding officer,
and there was a farmhouse too, for the rest of the senior men. The
others all stayed in the barracks. And Victoria still had no idea where
they would put her.

"Are you here with the Red Cross? " a pleasant, heavyset girl asked.

She was wearing a nurse's uniform, and eating a huge breakfast although
she was covered with bloodstains. Twelve hours before Victoria might
have been horrified, but now it suddenly seemed normal.

"I was going to be, " Victoria explained. The other girl had said her
name was Rosie, and like many of the others here, she was English.

"I think I missed them yesterday. I don't know what happened."

"I think I do, " Rosie looked at her with an odd expression, as Victoria
waited. "Their car was hit in Meaux. There were three of them.

They were all killed yesterday afternoon on the way here." The
horrifying thought was that she might have been with them, if she'd
tried to join them in Paris. Thank God she hadn't. "What are you going
to do? " she asked quietly, and Victoria thought about it for a long
moment. She wasn't even sure she was going to stay yet. This was a lot
rougher than she'd expected. While she was still in New York, and
listening to lectures about the war at the consulates, it had seemed so
clean and so definite, the ideology so pure, the problems so simple. She
was going to drive for them. But drive what? Dying men?

Corpses to their makeshift morgue?

She had never really understood it till she got here. But she also knew
now that if she wanted to be, she could be useful.

"I'm not sure, " Victoria said hesitantly. "I'm not a trained nurse or
anything. I'm not sure how useful I'd be to anyone." Victoria looked at
Rosie shyly, which was unlike her. "Who should I talk to? "

"Sergeant Morrison, " Rosie said with a smile, "she's in charge of the
volunteers, and don't kid yourself, girl. We need all the help I l we
can get, trained or not, if you can stand it." That was the question.

"How do I find her? " Victoria asked carefully, still trying to decide
what to do about staying.

Rosie laughed at her question and poured herself another cup of coffee.

"Wait about ten minutes, and she'll find you. Sergeant Morrison knows
everything that goes on here. And that's a warning." She grinned.

And she wasn't wrong. Not five minutes later, a gigantic woman in a
uniform strode rapidly over to them and seemed to measure Victoria with
her eyes. She had already heard from Dither about the new arrival.

Sergeant Morrison was six feet tall, she had blonde hair and blue eyes,
and she was Australian, from Melbourne. She'd been in France for nearly
a year, and she'd even been wounded. She worked her volunteers like
slaves, and according to Rosie, she put up with no nonsense.

"I understand they put you right to work last night, " she said to
Victoria pleasantly, and the young American felt herself quake as she
looked up at her in amazement.

"Yes, they did, " she said, sitting up very straight, and suddenly
feeling like a private. It was odd being here, it was all so orderly and
so civilized, in the midst of chaos. Every one knew what they had to do,
and what was expected.

"How did you like it? " Sergeant Morrison asked bluntly.

"I'm not sure like' is the right word, " Victoria said cautiously as
Rosie left them to go back to the operating room. She had another twelve
hours of work to do. They worked on twenty-four hour shifts there, or
till they dropped, whichever came first. She had actually worked thirty
hours straight once. "Most of the men I took care of last night were
dead before morning, " Victoria said softly, as Penny Morrison nodded
briskly, but her eyes were not without emotion.

"It happens that way a lot here. How do you feel about that, Miss
Henderson? " She had remembered her name, she knew who she was, and
Victoria didn't know it yet, but she had already sent her suitcase to
the barracks and assigned her a cot in the female section. "We can use
your help here, " she said honestly. "I don't know why you've come here,
and I don't really care, but if you've got the stomach for it, we need
you very badly. The men have been taking a terrible beating." Victoria
had already seen that the night before, and she'd even been given a gas
mask herself just in case everything went wrong, and the trenches broke,
and the Germans overran them.

"I'd like to stay, " Victoria said, surprising herself. She didn't even
know what had made her say that, it almost sounded as though a voice
other than hers had answered the question.

"Good." Sergeant Morrison stood up and looked at her watch. She had
other matters to attend to. They were having a staff meeting at the
chateau later that morning, and as the sergeant in charge of volunteers,
they had asked her to join them. She assumed correctly she'd be the only
woman at the meeting. "Oh." She turned as though she had forgotten to
say anything. "You're in the women's barracks. I had your bag sent over
last night. Someone will show you where it is.

And you need to report back to duty in the medical tent in ten minutes."

"Now? " Victoria looked stunned. She'd been up all night, and she was
ready to go to bed. But not according to the sergeant.

"You'll be off at eight o'clock tonight, " she smiled. "I told you,
Henderson, we need your help here. You can catch up on your beauty sleep
later. And by the way, " she looked at her somewhat sternly, but her
eyes were warm and caring. But Victoria still couldn't believe she had
to go back on duty. The woman was a tyrant. But she preferred to save
her nurses and use her volunteers. They had to ration everything here,
even people. "Tie your hair back, " she said, and then disappeared as
Victoria stared after her. She had another cup of coffee then, and
contemplated another twelve hours on duty. She almost wondered if she
could do it.

But she had no choice now.

"Back so soon? You must have run into Sergeant Morrison, " Dither teased
when he saw her again. He was still on duty too, and Victoria helped
herself to a fresh apron. She tied her hair back as Sergeant Morrison
had told her to, and found a once-sterile cap to put over it.

The Allied Forces sent them what supplies they could, but they were
pathetically little compared to what their needs were. And then she went
back to her duties.

l i The next twelve hours were more of the same, dying boys, screaming
men, severed limbs, blinded eyes, and lungs filled with poison gases.

This time, by the time she left the tent, she was almost reeling. She
was so tired she thought she'd vomit as she asked someone for the
women's tent, and when she got there, she didn't even look for her
suitcase.

She found the nearest cot, and lay down on it, and she felt as though
she were dying as she fell asleep. She had never been so tired in her
life, and this time, she didn't even dream of her sister. She didn't
wake up again until late the next afternoon, and she showered in the
makeshift tent set up for it, washed her hair, and went back to the mess
tent for what should have been breakfast but was almost dinner.

It was a glorious May afternoon, and she felt nearly human again, as she
helped herself to some food, and more of the strong black coffee they
all seemed to exist on. It was like fuel for their cars, they couldn't
function without it.

As she ate, she wondered when she was due back in the hospital tent, she
had no idea what her schedule was going to be, and no one had told her.

And as she finished a plate of the familiar stew, she saw Dither and
asked him. He was coming off thirty-six hours' straight duty, and he
looked it.

"I don't think you're expected back until tonight. It should be posted
in your barracks. Morrison figured you needed some sleep, I guess."

"So do you, " she said sympathetically, beginning to feel part of
things. It was actually a very nice feeling. "Thanks, Dither, see you
later."

"Salut! " he said, and walked off with a tin mug of coffee.

He knew it wouldn't keep him awake, nothing would, not even bombs or men
with hammers. He was beyond exhausted, but he smiled as he left.

He liked her. He had no idea why she was here. Most people had their own
reasons, and rarely told anyone why they had come, unless they became
close friends. Many people were running away from unhappy lives, or had
high ideals. Whatever brought them here, it was never the same as what
kept them.

She went back to the barracks after that, and found her schedule.

She was on again in two hours, and she lay on her cot for a while and
rested, and then she walked around the camp and found out where things
were. She thought of writing to Olivia, but she decided she didn't have
time before she went back on duty. Instead, she reported to the medical
tent a little early. There were no familiar faces there this time,
except Sergeant Morrison who showed up a little while later to check on
her. She looked satisfied by the hair, and gave her some uniforms. They
looked like men's fatigues, except they had a long skirt.

She wore a white apron over it, and a little cap with a red cross, and
they gave her a red cape for when it was cold. It was an odd mishmash of
garments, but it let people know who she was and what she did, if they
needed her help anywhere. And then the sergeant asked her how things
were going.

"Pretty well, I think, " Victoria said cautiously. She wasn't sure how
competent she was, but she was trying.

"I'm glad to hear it. You can pick up your identity card in the staff
tent. Your stay was approved at the meeting yesterday, " Morrison said
matter-of-factly. "I think you'll do very well." Victoria was surprised
by her praise, and a few minutes later the sergeant left her.

And she had no time to even think after that. There was a battle in
Berry all Bric that night, and waves of men were brought in on
stretchers.

She worked fourteen straight hours, and was too tired and too sickened
to even eat when she left, and she walked slowly back to her barracks.

It was impossible not to think of the boys who'd died, and as tired as
she was, she began thinking of the children she'd seen die on the
Lusitania. It all seemed so senseless. The sun was high in the sky, it
was May in France, the birds were singing, and people were dying all
around her. Instead of going inside, she walked a little way past her
tent, to a small clearing, sat down on the ground with her back against
a tree, and lit a cigarette. She just needed to be alone with her own
thoughts for a few minutes. She wasn't used to being surrounded by
people all the time, never having a moment to herself, and having so
many demands made on her, she hadn't realized it would be so draining.

She leaned back against the tree, with the cigarette in her hand, and
her eyes closed. The sun felt warm on her face, but she felt a thousand
years old as she sat there.

"You might get a nice tan, " she heard a voice say just in front of her,
"but I can think of better spots for a vacation." The voice was French,
and it was male, but he had said it in English. And when she opened her
eyes, from her vantage point on the ground, he looked as tall as the
tree she'd leaned back on. He had graying blonde hair, and in another
place and time, she would have thought he was very handsome.

"How did you know I spoke English? " she asked, curious, but not
smiling.

. s "I approved your papers yesterday, " he said, his eyes meeting hers
coolly. He wasn't smiling either. Each of them was appraising the other.