“Me too. I had a great boyfriend at the beginning of the war. A gunner in the RAF, of course. He was a terrific bloke. He got shot down and killed over Germany three years ago, so that was it for me. No dates since, no interest. I’m a nurse, that’s all I want. Besides, the posh ones don’t want me with my East End London accent, and I don’t want them.” She smiled at her new American friends then. “Those are the worst slums in England, by the way, my home turf. The dumb ones are too much trouble and they bore me. And the guys where I grew up work on the docks or drive lorries, drink too much, and beat their wives. I’m just fine on my own,” she said, and sat up a little straighter. Their answers to Pru’s question were very telling about each of them, where they came from and who they were.
“You’ve all had more interesting lives than I have,” Pru told them. “I grew up in Yorkshire, in the country, riding horses and climbing trees with my brothers. I’ve known all the men in my area since I was born, and they’re not very interesting. I suppose I’m expected to marry one of them one day. I went to nursing school and joined the RAF. My brothers are in the RAF too. I’ve had some dates, no one I cared about, and this seems like such an unsettled time. I don’t want to fall in love and then lose the guy, so I’m just trotting on. For now, my work is enough, and my friends.” She smiled at them.
“Me too,” Louise said quietly. “All my parents care about is education. My father is a doctor, my mom is the head of a school. I had to be a good student, top of my class, and I always was. Now I want to be a good nurse and do a good job here. And dating is complicated in the States if you’re my color. We live in the South, in North Carolina, and I’m just keeping to myself for now.”
“What a ridiculously virtuous group we are,” Pru said, with a look of disgust, when they had made the round of all six. “There’s not a slut among us, no loose morals, no shocking affairs we regret. I am so disappointed in all of us, and I sincerely hope that the next time I ask the question, you’ll have much more exciting answers for us, even if you have to lie!” They all laughed. What it showed was that they were decent girls, dedicated to their work, and two out of the six of them had already lost men they loved to the war. And Audrey had lost a brother. Further conversation as they talked and smoked and opened up to each other revealed that collectively they had four brothers in the army, Lizzie had two and so did Pru. They all had a lot at stake in the war, and what Pru had said wasn’t wrong. It seemed so risky to fall in love and take a chance on getting one’s heart broken and dreams shattered if the men were killed. They felt safer doing their jobs and spending time with their friends. Camaraderie seemed more important to them than romance. There were plenty of girls who felt differently than they did. And for lustful soldiers, there were always women who were only too happy to play with them. But the stakes were high, and as a former midwife, Emma commented about how many illegitimate babies would be born, or already had been, spawned by soldiers who were killed, or who moved on without marrying those babies’ mothers.
“I saw a lot of that in Poplar, when I was growing up,” she said. “I never wanted to be one of those girls. And I was damn careful with my guy before he was shot down,” she admitted, not claiming to be a saint. Several of the others were still virgins, but she was a few years older than they were, and came from a rougher world, with no family to support or protect her. They all admired her for what she’d shared. It seemed, from what she’d said, that she had had the roughest start, but had done well in spite of it.
By the time they all wandered back to the dormitory together, a little worse for wear but in good spirits, new friendships had been formed, based on mutual respect.
* * *
—
A week later, after their brief transition class to introduce them to the rules, traditions, and expectations of the RAF, the American nurses were assigned to fly on transports with their British counterparts, at least for a few missions, until they felt comfortable taking charge of a flight on their own.
Louise went to work at the hospital, caring for men of color in the British army, and she spent three days a week with the German POWs. She didn’t like it, but found that several of them were officers and spoke fluent English. And she found their conversations interesting and intelligent while she dressed their wounds. She didn’t like what they stood for or what their countrymen were doing, but she found that many of them were very content to spend the rest of the war in England and to be relieved of the miseries and hardships of war, which existed on their side too. She was eager to start flying like the other nurses, but the brief detour wasn’t as unpleasant as she had feared.
She told Emma about it one night, and Emma warned her, “Now don’t go falling for a German. You could never take him home. And they’re still Nazis, however educated and charming they are.” Louise had had a conversation with an officer only that day about Goethe and Thomas Mann. She couldn’t imagine having that same conversation with any American soldier she knew, Black or white. The German POWs, particularly the officers, seemed very intellectual and intelligent. It was a refreshing change, but she knew Emma was right, and getting too friendly with any of them was a bad idea. She missed the kind of cultural exchanges she’d had with her parents growing up, but that would just have to wait until she got home.
* * *
—
When the others started flying, Lizzie was assigned to fly with Pru and her crew, Alex with Emma, and Audrey with an Australian nurse she’d met, and liked, from their dorm. Emma was a little hesitant about Alex at first, and mentioned it to Pru.
“I wish they’d have given me one of the others. Alex should be flying with you.”
“Why?” She looked surprised by what Emma had said.
“Because you both hide it very politely, but you’re both posh girls. She’s from a fancy family, it’s written all over her, and you heard what she said at the pub that night. You’d know what to talk to her about, I won’t.”
“Well for one thing, all you’ll be talking about is the soldier who got his leg shot off and you’re trying to stop from bleeding to death before you land, or the one who lost an arm, or can’t see, or will never walk again. You don’t need to discuss literature and ballet,” she said in her usual direct way, and Emma laughed. “And she’s American, so she won’t hear your East End accent. Neither do I, nor do I care. And you never have trouble talking to me.”
“That’s because I know you.”
“We’re all the same here, Emma. That’s what the uniform is about, especially for us. We’re all nurses, trying to keep these guys alive. It doesn’t matter where we came from, or why we joined up. We’re here to save their lives. It’s a rotten business, and we’re all in it together. And she may be ‘posh,’ as you put it, but she’s not thinking about that when one of those boys bleeds all over her or throws up on her, or she has his guts in her hands, or he dies in her arms. Who gives a damn about posh then? I’m sure she doesn’t.”