They take us to a camp near a dying forest, about forty miles away from home.
Packed inside trucks like sardines, the journey is so hot and stuffy that it makes my head hurt. Groaning as I step out of the dingy military vehicle, my fingers are attached to rubbing my temples to soothe my rising headache.
"All right, ladies! Over here!"
A plump woman in a tan cloth dress and short brown hair yells at us women getting out of the truck.
The ten women who came here with me all walk over solemnly to her, and I go along with them only to stand at the back of the group.
"Okay," the woman states once she sees that we are all here. "Y'all are here as volunteer nurses for Nation, correct?"
There's no response from us, mostly because it's pretty obvious why we're all here, and that we are in no way happy about it.
Seeing our unenthusiastic reply, she sighs. "Look, I'm sorry you're here. But let's make the best of it, yeah?"
I see that she's trying with us, most likely because she understands. She seems like a kind woman given her eager, positive attitude. Giving her a slight nod amongst the other blank faces, she smiles back at me gratefully and tells us to follow her.
While walking, she says, "My name's Beatrice, by the way. I'm the head coordinator for all the doctors here at the base."
The women around me murmur just as Beatrice finishes her sentence, as we enter a tent full of commotion that smells like sanitizer and sweat.
I scan the room in amazement, not saying anything because I have no one in this group I know well enough to talk to.
White bedspreads and wounded soldiers are everywhere I look, and crammed into each crevice is either a person or cart of medical supplies surrounded by a hundred swarming women from different towns tending to things.
"Alright, wait here." Beatrice orders, stopping us in the middle of the tent.
Awkwardly standing there, me and the others wait for instructions while looking like lost puppies on a playground.
Together, we, the new recruits, gaze around the hospital, not sure of what our place will be here.
Will I be treating wounds, using stitching needles, or cleaning beds?
The thought doesn't bother me as much as it should, in fact, it's rather exciting.
What else am I made of, besides hands of strength and endurance on a farm back in Woodson?
Watching a nurse clean a man's wound with some bandages and chemicals, I realize that my steady, sure hand, may become useful in this sort of situation.
I am broken out of my thoughts when Beatrice comes back, telling us that we are free to do as we wish until nineteen o'clock today. And when that time comes, we have to report back to the main part of the military base for supper if we want to eat.
She also mentions our schedule for tomorrow, to be ready to wake up early and start training, since there is much help needed and a lot of work to do.
My shoulders sag in relief at the dismissal, part of the weight of my day being released. I want to relax, so I decide to walk over to Beatrice quietly after the rest of the new nurses depart in order to ask her where the beds are.
I want to try and get some sleep.
"The ladies' sleeping cabin is over there, honey." She says, pointing into the woods.
Peering over her shoulder I can see that there is a small log cabin a short distance away in the landscape beyond the camp of tents. However, before I can thank Beatrice for her assistance and walk away, she privately pulls me closer and insists, "But hey, what's a girl like you doing here?"
At first, I don't know how to respond.
"Err... What do you mean?"
"Hmm. You're too young, is all. They - I mean, the soldiers - they didn't force you to be here, did they, sweetie?"
"Not really," I mutter, inspecting my black dirty boots.
I don't want to explain my situation, but the origin of her odd question becomes clearer to me: Beatrice probably wants to know if other women are being forced to serve now in the draft for nurse service, too.
I reword my reply, and Beatrice's round face is encouraging.
"I volunteered in the place of my dad. He was rather too old for the draft, I suppose. Women still aren't included in the draft."
Expecting some sort of satisfaction from her, I frown as Beatrice's brow scrunches in concern.
"Oh, we seem to have a very brave girl amongst us, then." she tells me. "We could use some more of you."
I am not entirely sure if we should call my actions brave, yet I take her compliment graciously anyways.
"Thank you, miss."
Beatrice backs away while tucking in a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear.
"Well then, might as well get comfortable while you're here. Take this and I'll show you where your bed is."
Beatrice taps her fingers while handing me a dark blue blanket.
Gratefully accepting her help, I emerge from the busy medical tent with my head held high.
Following Beatrice from behind, I estimate that she is about forty or fifty years old, which makes me consider the circumstances. If all of the women volunteers here are about forty years or older, they're most likely not expecting to come back home safely.
This thought makes my heart ache, for although they are closer to death than I, they should never have to face it earlier than expected.
Who have they volunteered their safety for?
Who's lives are they trying to protect back home while mending others in these tents?
The feeling of being here makes my heart plummet down to my stomach. I feel more utterly and hopelessly alone.
Hugging the blanket Beatrice handed me to my chest, I tread through the crumbly soil of the forest by dragging my feet through the grass on the underside of my boots, leaving a trail.
"Here you are," Beatrice states, leading me into a large room full of small bunk beds.
The soldiers must have their own individual green tents that I saw earlier, yet the women nurses have to all sleep in the same room since there are fewer of us. There are white sheets and bare beds with no personal belongings, and I wonder where the other ladies went at this time of day since the room is completely empty.
"Thanks," I reply, looking back at Beatrice who had stopped in her tracks along the doorway.
"No problem, honey. I'll leave you to it."
There's a click of her tongue for a second, and then she's gone.
I let out a sigh I didn't know I was holding, and choose an empty mattress.
Laying down on it, my muscles ease from the familiar material of cloth, scratchy yet comforting at the same time. My pale arm rests over my eyes in a tinge of disappointment and exhaustion. I don't know what I was expecting.
A warm welcome?
A shower of shouting and bullets?
A fanfare?
I don't know.
I just... never would've thought that I'd actually be admitted here, or that my decision of volunteering would ever be tested and put into action.
With that in mind, I feel myself dozing off and drifting away. I am exhausted in my bones, exhausted from being in a perpetual state of motion. But sitting here, alone in this place, causes one word to pop into my head, making me dart up in alert.
Andres.
I am constantly thinking about him, and would rather go our searching for my brother than sleep.
I hastily reach up to pull my hair back, rising from the bed and cursing myself that I didn't check on him sooner. How is he dealing with all of this? Is he angry? Probably not. Is he alone, too, coming close to crying? Quickly, my feet carry me into the woods and back to the brisk air of the camp, with all personnel minding their own business.
On one side there's the medical tent where all of the women and doctors are, but on the other side, about fifty feet away, there is the male army training camp.
I sprint the distance from the familiar tent to the area where the fires are lit and men are gathered around in groups chortling with each other.
It's noisy and crowded, so I frantically look around the place in the hopes of finding my brother's dark blue eyes that match the sky when he is nervous.
Andres has always been a familiar face in days full of new places and strangers, since I never did well with either of those.
However, when I can't find him for a few lost minutes I start to worry. He isn't to my left, and he isn't by the fire. But just as I push through a group of young men talking with each other in a circle, I see him and have to prevent myself from crying.
"Andres!" I shout trying to get his attention.
He doesn't turn around.
Receiving some weird stares, I ignore them as I put my hands around my lips to call him again. Yet in my effort, the words die on my tongue as a tall person walks in front of me, blocking my view of Andres.
I want to yell at him but I don't, moving around him as I try to find my brother's face again.
Look harder, I scold myself. I can't believe you lost him.
He was twenty yards away from me before someone moved, and I couldn't find his dark hair anymore.
Hurriedly looking around once more, my hands pull at my black ponytail, frustrated that he isn't where I saw him anymore. So I stand there, rotating on my feet, until I feel myself being embraced from behind by a familiar scent and body that I could recognize anywhere.
"Andres!" I exclaim in happy surprise, turning around to face him.
Before I know it, I am fully crashing into him, greedily breathing in the smell of our home as we hug. Although he is wearing a Nation uniform, Andres' skin smells of the candles and glue that my father uses to stay up late working in his tinkering shop.
He's still my Andres.
"I'm so glad to have found you." I tell him, wiping away the water forming in my eyes before he can see it.
Ever the protective sister, I examine Andres' figure up and down, making sure that he hasn't been hurt.
"Adeline, I'm okay. There's no need to worry."
Slapping him playfully on the arm I scowl at him.
"Where have you been? Why didn't you come find me? I've been worried sick!"
"Adel, it's really alright." He's trying to convince me by using my young nickname. "The generals had to take down all of our names and so I couldn't leave this side of camp to talk to you."
"Oh." My scowl slowly morphs into a frown.
They took his name down to make sure he and the other soldiers don't abandon their post, the post that was forced on them by our government. Now that I think of it, Beatrice probably took our names down, too.
I hate how Andres and I are a pawn in their game of war, but most of all, I hate how all of this is necessary.
"But hey," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "At least we're here together now."
Giving in to his relief, I roll my eyes, and ruffle his hair childishly.
After we finish catching up about our day, we fall into our normal sibling dynamic. He gets me to laugh a couple of times, and I tell him to be careful. And when the clock strikes seven, Andres and I head over to the center camp for dinner together.
Reaching the table that is set up in the field between the women and male camps, we sit down next to each other and are served by older women who I noticed were working as nurses when I got here.
I consider getting up to help them, but by the time I contemplate it, the table has already been set.
Thinking, I know that it shouldn't be only the women's responsibility to arrange everything before eating themselves, yet, I'm sure it's only because they feel terrible that these may be some of the last meals the men have.
Making a mental note to help the women out next time with dinner, I remain seated and look at the meal for today, a tiny chunk of bread and some bean stew in a bowl.
To be honest, it is definitely not as appetizing as the meals I make for us at home, but Andres and I gladly dig in as a result of being so hungry.
By the time we finish our meals, it is about twenty one o'clock, and I am tired but not ready to say goodbye.
Sometimes, at night, I wish Andres could slip into my bedroom like he did when he was a child - afraid of the dark. With my mother gone, I would be his comfort, the one he would go to when he was sad or lonely.
He was so small, then.
He would hug my leg tightly as I would sing him forgotten lullaby tunes, using the best voice I had.
Those were times when things were simpler, and I wish we could go back to them now.
But now, Andres is close to adulthood, close to being on his own.
I have to try and let him go.
Saying goodnight to my little brother by kissing him on his forehead, I hesitantly leave him at the men's tents to return to my cabin where many ladies are already readying for bed.
Once there, I collapse onto the sheets and soon fall fast asleep, only to dream of a time where life was much better.
***
Hey!
It's me, your favorite author!
Just kidding.
But, if you liked this chapter, make sure to vote please!
Love,
xocaterinaxo