The Doughty Women: Lillian - What Lies Within Us: The World War 2 Sisters, #3

By Sierra Rose

The Doughty Women:
With Valor Above All

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
                            ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes

What Lies Within Us is book three in The World War 2 Sisters and focuses on the third and final sister, Lillian who is a nurse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Shadows Publishing
• Release date: Sep 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536588033

Book preview

The Doughty Women:

With Valor Above All

What lies behind us and what lies before us

are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.

~ OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

Lillian

What Lies Within Us

I

LILLIAN DOUGHTY CLAMPED both hands onto the ship’s heavy metal rail and, once again, thanked her lucky stars for a strong stomach. No seasickness here, praises be, as had afflicted so many others. The sideways roll over even calm waters had sent many a voyager scrambling away, in utter misery, to moan and retch without ceasing.

A brisk wind was playing peek-a-boo with her sloe-black hair, cut short for convenience an eon ago, back on the East Coast, but grown long enough and unruly enough by now to need a whole squadron of pins. With a muttered curse, she brushed the curls back and adjusted her sunglasses. No sunshine to speak of, at this hour of the day; just a diamond-hard glitter reflected off the Pacific. And lenses did help deflect the salt spray.

Well, I don’t blame you for plannin’ a getaway up here, sugar. It’s hot as blazes below deck.

The soft, sweet accents of a Georgia southern belle preceded the newcomer as she glided silently forward to join Lillian at the rail. Even in the failing light, Molly Crenshaw’s cap of glossy blonde hair shone like a handful of captured sunshine, and her china blue eyes looked out with practicality and purpose upon a shattered world.

Did you get your patient all bedded down? asked Lillian with a rich, warm chuckle.

Oh, Lord above, don’t talk to me about that one! Stretching her arms wide, Molly rose up on tiptoe to straighten muscles cramped by an eight hour shift. Imagine havin’ to explain that to his girl back home—Jimmy Fowler, on his way to fight the enemy, and he bangs into a bulkhead and knocks himself half-silly before he ever gets to battle. The boy has a knot the size of a goose egg on his poor ol’ skull.

Yours is no worse than mine, countered Lillian. Henry Wilkins tripped over something—his own two feet, probably; he doesn’t seem to be the most graceful person on board—and sprained an ankle. After I got him patched up, he insisted he’s madly in love with me and asked me to be his wife.

Well, that hardly seems fair. I did lots more for my fella, and he only wanted a date. But, then, y’all always did have the fellahs fallin’ for you, even way back in nursin’ school.

The women shared a companionable and sympathetic laugh. Instant attraction from males suffering with a variety of physical ailments was one of the hazards of the medical field, and both had dealt with the symptoms a number of times during their years together at Maryland Medical University. To find the same was holding true here, in the middle of some three thousand troops headed for the South Pacific, was somewhat reassuring. Good to know that some things never changed.

Where do you think we are?

Lillian leaned onto the rail with both forearms, looking out over the darkening sea that lay so full of mystery and danger. Under any other circumstances, mystery and romance. Not now. A very faint shift in direction was discernible by the feel of the wind and the motion of the current; the rumble of giant engines, discernible even from far below, changed tempo.

I don’t have a clue. We’re aboard a ship with no name, traveling on what seems to be an uncharted course, to an unknown destination on an unidentified date. The only thing I’m sure about is that we left San Francisco two days ago.

Well, I did volunteer because I was lookin’ for adventure, was Molly’s rueful observation.

We’ve seen a lot of the country, that’s for sure. But I don’t know about the adventure part.

Honey, that’s bound to come. There is a war goin’ on, after all.

Seeing a lot of the country meant traveling from one coast to the other, from East to West, until the land ran out and the ocean began. With many, many experiences—and possibly the beginnings of the adventure Molly sought—in between.

The attack on Pearl Harbor, with its unbelievable devastation and loss of life, had left a nation numb with shock, yet at the same time outraged and clamoring for justice. As United States war machines began slowly to clank into place, volunteers, anxious to join a fight against the enemy, swarmed the recruitment centers of every branch of military service.

That included the vitally important medical staff.

U.S. hospitals were already having to deal with a nationwide shortage of available, qualified nurses. This was due mainly to cost, because many worthwhile candidates simply lacked the funds to pay for several years of nursing school. Of those already graduated and ready to serve, the American Red Cross, with the army’s support, began recruiting a high percentage for enlistment.

Which, of course, left remaining emergency personnel in even more dire straits.

Who could have imagined all this happening, mused Lillian into the gathered darkness shot with dying sun, when we first met at good old MMU a year ago?

Not me, for sure, honey. My poor mama was still palpitatin’ over the fact that her one and only female chick would be livin’ and workin’ in damn Yankee territory, when I had to tell her I was goin’ even farther astray. Molly sighed. There ain’t nothin’ can pull at your heartstrings more’n a mother’s tears, believe me.

Oh, I believe you, all right. My folks weren’t real happy with the idea of my heading to the back of beyond, right into the thick of things, either. Especially with bullets and bombs flying everywhere.

Well, it’s kinda tough on ’em, what with Kit doin’ who knows what in London, and Nate off to the blue skies somewhere. Even Susan isn’t all that close, is she?

She’s in D.C., which isn’t all that far away as the crow flies. At least she can travel down to visit Dad and Mom once in a while, she and Matt. Sure glad I was able to attend their wedding before I got caught up in all this moving around.

Their wartime weddin’, said Molly with a sigh. Bless their hearts. That sounds so romantic.

Amused, Lillian patted her friend’s forearm in commiseration. Molly, with her sweet Georgia magnolia complexion and disposition, lived, spoke, and breathed Romance—with a capital R. Replace Adventure in her vocabulary with Flirtation and you would have Miss Molly Crenshaw’s personality down to a T. Her brand of innocent enchantment brought the boys swarming like bees to a pollen-dusted lily...and then to their knees in adoration.

Sue’s whole involvement with Matthew was romantic from the get-go. In a way, I envy the way they hooked up—even if she did despise him at first sight. A chuckle, and a shake of the head at sister-shared reminisces. But you’re right—where Susan lives and works is a world removed from the little haven of our parents. Although I’m not sure any place is all that safe anymore.

Things are pretty scary, all right, agreed Molly soberly.

The sound of movement and a murmur of voices from the deck directly below drifted upward: several GI’s and several more nurses, all off-duty and out to bask in fresh salt air before their forced retirement back to hot, cramped quarters. Smiling, Lillian listened to soft laughter, then occasional conversation, but no particular words or phrases made themselves clear. Just normal people, trying to continue with a normal routine while their world blew up around them and everything once sane flew out of kilter.

Congress, responding to the fact that entire hospital wings had had to be closed due to the shortage of nurses, passed the Bolton Act, in June of 1943, which established the Cadet Nurse Corps program. In return for a government subsidy that supported nursing education, recruits promised to serve for the duration of the war. Their last six months of training had them assigned to home front stations of the Veterans Administration, the army and the navy, the Public Health Service, and the Bureau of Indian Affairs, besides civilian hospitals.

Both Lillian and Molly, fresh from their work on the wards of MMU, had volunteered together for the Army Nurse Corps. Neither could claim any military experience; nor did they have any knowledge of army methods and protocol or, far more important, training in battlefield conditions. Still, there it was: their future, and they had gone forward to meet it with brave and buoyant hearts because this was the right thing to do. Their country needed them.

The army had already set in place a training course for all incoming nurses. It was an intensive, four-week session at fifteen U.S. training centers, that taught them how to adhere to army rules, how to order supplies, and how to deal with this, that, and the other thing in the middle of an attack. They had been assigned, both of them, to Fort Devens, in Massachusetts, also the newly established home of the 4th Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps Training Center. There, they worked at the Station Hospital, while they waited to be sent overseas.

And waited. And waited.

Finally, in July of 1943, the orders came down from on high. Lillian and Molly, along with their fellow nurses, nurses’ aides, orderlies, technicians, and physicians, would be serving in the South Pacific. One last, quick, brief leave had taken the girls via a weekend pass to Serenity, Maryland.

The Rev. Kenneth Doughty, pressed into service to retrieve them from the train station in his shiny black 1935 Pierce-Arrow, offered welcome and warmth all around.

Your mother is chomping at the bit to see you, Lily girl, he happily divulged after he had stowed their two small cases into the trunk.

I appreciate your lettin’ me come along for a visit, too, Reverend, put in Molly a trifle anxiously. It was just too far to even consider goin’ home to Georgia to see my folks, and when Lil offered me this chance, why, I just jumped on it.

We’re glad to have you, Miss Crenshaw. You just get yourself comfortable for the little time you’re here. I’m sure my wife has already got the bedroom neat and trim and ready for use.

Where is Mom, anyway? Lillian wanted to know. I expected her to be standing with you beside the car, waving her apron at the train to guide it to a halt.

Her father chuckled, slowed and braked for a stop sign, and proceeded with caution past a school playground where raucous children were wreaking havoc with the facilities. She would have done that, sure enough. Except the Quilters’ Group was meeting at church today, and she had promised to set up the coffee and refreshments. She’ll be back directly.

In fact, she had already returned, with plenty of time to put together a hearty brunch. She cooed and preened over the girls like the mother hen she was, caught up on local gossip, then sent them to change into swimsuits for some R&R at the beach.

Your mama is such a sweetheart, Molly said now, over the deep-seated thrum of the engines far beneath their feet and the occasional comments of fellow travelers passing by. She reminds me a lot of my own. Our last weekend with your folks was mighty nice, wasn’t it?

It makes for good memories, Lillian agreed. Dad loves to cook out on the barbeque, and I enjoyed seeing a lot of old friends from the neighborhood when they came over to share potluck that Saturday night. Reminds me of how much I miss of my old life.

Do you? Wanna go back to it?

Lord, no, said Lillian in horrified tones. I have too many other things going on now. Besides, I’m married to the army.

Yeah, me, too. But I think it’ll be a long time before we taste anything as good as that fried chicken we had on Sunday. And nobody would let us do a thing, not even clean-up.

Their wonderful stress-free few hours at the beach, the impromptu late afternoon picnic, the farewell dinner full of talk and laughter—with leftovers sent along in a covered basket, because Miranda insisted they were both far too thin, and this would tide them over during the return trip, in case they got hungry—all had segued together into one easy, seamless weekend. Then it was time to leave.

Her mother, having already sent one son and an elder daughter away to war, had bourne up bravely. No tears fell; no sobs engulfed. That, Lillian knew, would show up later, when the two remaining behind would comfort each other against whatever might come.

It was a sad and sorry fact of life. Into the gathering clouds of war, the young people marched off, while the oldsters must, of necessity, abide and endure at home. The hardest part