𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; joseph liebgott

PART ONE

This story is a whole can of beans. I've started my studies again, so I'm unsure how often I'll have to update this, but I'll try my best. Enjoy the ride.

Love you all <3

Word count; 2,272

Dianne

— November 9th, 1945. Marietta, Ohio.

With the snow only worsening, I pushed a trolley of woolen blankets down the aisles of beds, stopping at each casualty to readjust their own fleeces, or give more if need be. Unfortunately, the Manor held zero warmth in the winter months, built to house upmarket families during their spring getaways and, despite being a rehabillitation base, men were still dropping left, right and centre from the cold. Then, due to a lack of staff, those that had neverending fevers would grow restlessly warm and pass from overheating.

"Miss Kennedy?"

I turned over my shoulder, caught in the middle of tucking a blanket beneath a Corporal's feet. It was another nurse, the one who had taken my place whilst I was in Europe, who they had decided to keep as more and more assistants moved across the country or found positions elsewhere. She wasn't a day over seventeen.

"One second, hon."

She smiled, waiting for me to finish with the blanket and return to the trolley.

"What can I do for you?"

She glanced at the clipboard in her arms, "Miss Dawson has sent word that she won't be able to make it for her afternoon shift. She can't get out of her driveway with all the snow. Mr Hansley says you won't mind covering her?"

I simpered, "Sure thing, hon."

Expecting some sort of argument, she wavered, only to turn on her heels in the opposite direction. The fact was, I had only ever worked afternoons - the occasional morning every now and then - up until Operation Judy, but now my mind couldn't make it through the night without a pressure building in my chest, forcing me awake at dawn. Starting in the morning allowed me to forget the night before, and continuing into the afternoon meant avoiding slumber for just a little while longer.

I continued on my path, stopping at a bed where two blankets had fallen onto the floor. Stephen - I remembered, though a quick notice of the board at the end of his bed didn't mention a last name - a boy with dark eyes and light brown curtains that crawled over his temples. Also young, having lied about his age to enlist the year before, only to have a leg blown off two months into the pacfic.

"Thank you," He muttered as I put the sheets back over him, eyes shut.

"Can't seem to keep them on, huh?" I referred to earlier that morning when I had to do the same thing.

He shook his head lightly.

"Can I get you anything?"

"My pillow."

"Sure." I curled my hand beneath his head, propping up the pillow before letting it rest on the fabric again. "That all right?"

"Thank you." He whispered. "You smell nice."

"Have a guess." - every weekend, when I clocked in for my shifts, he would gander which perfume I wore that day.

"Elderflower?"

"Close." I beamed. "Sweet acacia."

"Sounds expensive."

I shrugged coyly, ready to return to the trolley when another thought ignited my mind.