In search of a war love

My name is Scarlet Dower; I was born in Kingston New York in 1923. At age 20 I joined the Red Cross in the war against Germany. I was sent over seas to help the wounded and the dying. I didn’t know what I was getting my self into.

Blood, and anguish every where you went, from the battles that took place. Some times I would see Nazis men, American men and European men lying there, dead. Because of the battle they fought, and died for. I couldn’t understand it though. All of them looked the same, but were from so many different backgrounds. But I still couldn’t figure out why we had to fight.

I didn’t realize after a while, after we saved some Jews from camps, the way they looked, so small, so crippled with hunger and desperation. I knew then that, that was what we were fighting for. The right of our own. They were just like us. But the men that weren’t like us needed to pay for killing there own kind. I knew then that it was why we were fighting.

I was with a traveling with wounded men to a camp we set up for them. It was all fine and dandy. We thought we had everything in control. It was bright and sunny out. I was wearing my usual.

My blonde hair pulled up into a neat bun, on top of it my nurses hat with a red cross on it. And my uniform, which was like a dress, or a robe, with yet again a red cross logo upon it.

I was helping a young man walk. His leg had been broken in three places and it would probably take a while to heal, that’s why he was going home. I was glad about it. Not about his broken leg, but about the fact that this young man could go home. He was no more than 18, and I only 21 knew what it was like already, and didn’t want him here. Maybe the other reason I wanted him to go home was, he reminded me so much of my brother, Charlie.

Charlie died in battle about a year ago. About the time I joined the Red Cross. We never got to have a normal wake for him. They never did find his body. He was labeled missing, than after the limit of time, dead.

“How is that leg of yours Evan”? I asked the young man. He moved it around in front of him, as we stopped for a break.

“Feeling great Ms. Dower, thank you”.

“Looks like there handed out some sandwiches and water, do you want any”?

His face brightened, the way my brothers use to. “Sure, can you sneak me two sandwiches”?

I winked at him. “I’ll try”.

He smiled and looked down at his leg, and frowned. “My mother is going to kill me when she sees this; I told her I would come back in one piece”.

“Im sure she’ll understand”. I smiled. I walked over Bobby, Bob for short. He says Bob makes him sound old, even though he was pushing fifty.

“Hey Bobby, can I have two sandwiches and a canteen of water”.

He talked through a cigar in his mouth. “Sure you can my fine lady”. He handed me two bologna sandwiches and a full canteen. “You baby that kid to much”.

“Just trying to make him miss home too much to want to come back”.

He let out a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that, by that time that leg heals, this war will be over”. He said in his gruff voice.

“I sure hope so”. I sighed.

I walked back to Evan, who had fallen asleep. I smiled and sat down on a rubble rock.

We had been traveling for some time through a banded town that most likely had been destroyed by bombers. Homes and peoples lives had been destroyed by just one bomb. So much destruction. I wish it was over already. Just one bomb could-

“In coming”! Someone yelled followed by an explosion. Followed by another one and another. Each time making screeching noised as it came down. Stuff was flying everywhere, and smoke and dust made it impossible to see. I flung my self over Evan who was next to me.

My hand found some thing wet and sticky.

Oh no I thought. “Evan, Evan, can you hear me”? “Evan, please say some thing”. All around me men were screaming and yelling. Guns were going off and people were moaning. Including the one right in front of me.

“Oooooh it hurts”.

“Evan, Evan, where does it hurt honey”?

“My head”. He groaned.

I lifted my hand to his head. As some of the dust cleared, I could tell what I was feeling. Evans head had a huge gash on it, some blood was coming out. Not enough that it would kill him, but enough that if it wasn’t treated it would be serious.

I ripped a piece of my uniform and placed it on his wound. I tried to dress it from what I had in my bag I had around my shoulder, but it was going to need stitches to stop bleeding.

Then other than the American voices I heard. There was another.

“Nehmen Gefangenen”.

I gasped, I didn’t speak fluent German, but I did know a little, and I did know that meant, take prisoners.

“Töten alle, widerstehen”. That meant. I gulped. Kill all who resist.

I tried to hid my self and Evan, but it was too late. When the dust cleared and I saw and German solider, he saw me.

He had an anger expression and same toward me with his gun at ready. I put my hands over, my head turned.

There was a sharp pain of someone grabbing my hair by the fist full and pulling me up and dragging me away from Evan.

I called out to him as I was being pulled away. I tried to pry my self loose, but it wouldn’t work. The solider now fed up; hit me on top of the head.

And I blacked out.