CHAPTER 6

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Maude's women were veteran combat nurses. All of them had gone through the brutal fighting on Bataan, caring for the sick and wounded in outdoor hospitals in all weather conditions. Each of them had endured the nightmare of the Malinta tunnel. And throughout that time, they'd displayed the bravery, dedication, and esprit de corps that the best military units always exhibit.

When we arrived at Santa Catalina, I found the Angels energetically rearranging the building into the wards, labs, and intake facilities needed to provide top-flight medical care. There was little talking as they created order out of chaos. It was inspirational. I got a faint whiff of hope that I might survive.

Maude walked me up to the woman overseeing all that activity. This was her second in command, Josephine Nesbit. All the nurses called Maude "Miss." Whereas Josephine Nesbit was just "Josie," or sometimes "Mama Josie." It wasn't from any lack of respect. Josephine Nesbit was the heart and soul of the Angels.

Josie was the woman responsible for motivating the Angels and keeping them disciplined. She wasn't even supposed to be there. When MacArthur had been "rescued" from Corregidor in early March, Josie had been offered the opportunity to join him in his humiliating bug-out. But she refused to leave her girls. She already had shown a penchant for doing that.

Previously, she'd refused to be evacuated to Corregidor after Bataan fell. That is until the U.S. agreed to take her Filipino nurses along with the rest of the Angels. The Filipinos had suffered alongside their American counterparts, and there was no way Josie would leave them behind. I mean, seriously, in the dictionary under "courage and leadership," it says, "See Josephine Nesbit."

Maude was an older woman, tall and lean. Josie was shorter and nondescript, with brown hair. She looked like she had just stepped off a Missouri farm. But the strength of spirit and energy just radiated from her. She was an intimidating person. That was because I knew that she could see right through me.

Maude said, "Erik, here is an unlicensed M.D." Josie understood exactly what that meant. She said, "Did you intern?" I said, "I did a surgical first year." She said, "Did you operate?" I said, "I observed, but I was not allowed to do anything other than close."

She gave me a look that told me precisely what she thought of that answer. She said, "Why didn't you do the rest of the residency?"

I said, "Because I wanted to explore other opportunities." I didn't have to tell her that those opportunities mainly consisted of alcohol and women. I could see it in her eyes.

Then, she said aloud, "So you were one of the Army and Navy Club set, right?" At least she didn't modify that statement with "useless." Josie Nesbit had clearly spent a lot of time in the Philippines.

I nodded my head in mute agreement. We understood each other.

She seemed to make up her mind. She yelled across the room, "Ronnie, come here a minute, will ya." A woman on the far side of the hall was laying out cots. She nodded, unfolded the one she was holding, placed it carefully, precisely five feet from the previous one, and started to walk toward us.

Josie said. "Ronnie is one of our best nurses and my right-hand girl. She'll help you get your feet under you."

The woman approaching us had the same no-nonsense appearance as the rest of the Angels, which in and of itself would have been intimidating. However, the factor that made it far worse was that she was simply gorgeous.

She was bathed in sweat. Her thick hair was a tangled mess, and there was dirt on her face. But she had huge wide-set grey eyes that held an intoxicating cocktail of intelligence, grit, and sadness. You could see that this woman had been to hell and back twice. And yet, nothing on God's green earth would stop her from making the trip once again if duty called.

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