For the first time in my life, I had never seen so much of the colour red.
Europe sounded beautiful, with Lively cultures and wonders of great possibilities. But, the landscape wasn't gorgeous enough for me to decide that is what I only should focus on.
To be completely fair, I was standing in a medical tent, with wounded and dying men filling the beds, as I was throwing away blood-soaked bandages.
Everything I owned had a stained hue of pink. My hands looked pink, my uniform apron was hardly pristine white, nor were any of the water basins. They all needed to be scrubbed clean, but we had no time to clean them.
Wounded men only just kept coming. It was my job to try and put them back together, one piece at a time.
We rushed and raced as howls of pain flooded the tent. The other nurses and I never had time for conversation much less we never had much time for a break. We fought over who got to go to bed first, that is if you were fast enough to not be chosen to stay overnight to observe the medical station, making sure everyone was all right while sleeping.
I always stayed.
It was easier to only get short bursts of sleep, rather than long breaks where I would feel nothing but how cold the cot was. It felt cold because we weren't given luxuries or anything close... maybe it was how I was sleeping alone that made the bed feel so cold.
My small lamp that barely gave enough light was what I sat next to on a cold, damp wooden chair. All I could do was stare at the men sleeping in front of me in the chilled night that France brought.
Well, it was the edge of Germany. Was I in France, Germany, or Belgium?
I wasn't sure anymore. We had moved so far in such a short amount of time that I was never so sure where we were.
I read my letter again. I had been getting all my mail redirected from the cottage house to me in Europe. I did that so no one would ever find out that I in fact had run away to become a nurse, sewing up army men next to a battlefield.
I wished I were better at building bullets than I was with blood.
'Dear Ginger,
Now I'm not good with letters. But, I'm hoping by corresponding, you can tell me that everything is going well at home.
Everything's is okay here. I can't tell you much, but what I can say is that the sun rises make me think of your hair. That reddish orange? That colour.
The food sucks and I could really go for a few of your cookies right now. Have you been baking? I hope the check was enough for a little while longer. I haven't made very much only being a private, but I'm learning.
I hope I can provide more soon.
Take care of yourself, ginger. Please watch out for yourself and make sure my family isn't going too stir crazy. I know my Ma is furious I left apparently just like Dad left for the first war.
Tell me about home, Ginger.
With my best,
Mack Blythe. '
I only stopped staring at the mangled letter when I noticed someone running from the tree line not far from me.
They were running in the moonlight, sprinting as fast as they could but were stumbling, tripping and obviously in pain.
It was when I heard them calling out quietly.
"Medic? Medic? Allied medic?"
I stood, knowing they had spoken English. That meant they were safe to treat and go near.
