I was one of five women chosen to serve our country, fighting side by side with the men, and only some of us had come home. Being surrounded by friends and enemies, having to choose who you can save, who you can love, and how to survive is something...
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The next morning, we were greeted with a unit of Cromwell tanks and new orders. We were to move out towards a nearby town called Nuenen to clear out the opposition there. Webster interjected excitedly, "Vincent Van Gogh was born in Nuenen! This is exciting, Emmeline!" he turned to me, a big smile plastered on his lips, "How many people get the opportunity to visit a place that someone with incredible talent was born?" I smiled at his enthusiasm. It was one of the reasons I liked Webster. No matter the situation, he was always cheery about something.
Someone nearby asked, "Who the hell's that?"
Webster looked like he had been slapped in the face as he glanced between me and the man who asked the question. I tried to suppress my laughter by biting down on my lip. Webster tried to explain, "You know, the painter? He painted with watercolors... Starry Night?"
When the man shrugged and walked away from the frustrated Webster, I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Web," I said. "Not everyone knows good art when they see it." He sighed, clearly annoyed by the conversation that transpired.
I watched Webster march up to a nearby Cromwell and climbed up the side to catch a ride to our next destination. I continued walking alongside the tanks when Webster called out to me from his perch just as they were starting to roll by me. "Emmeline! Climb up! It's a long walk!"
I sighed, debating what to do. I wanted to walk so I could think about the things that happened but I knew he was right - it was a long walk from our current position to Nuenen. Turning to approach the tanks, I grabbed his outstretched hand as he helped me up the side, shifting over so I could sit beside him. We rode on the top of the tanks in silence, listening to the creaking and groaning of the metal wheels beneath us.
We met no resistance or opposition on our trip to Nuenen. The locals cheered as we rode through toward our next destination. As we pulled out of the small town, I glanced over to the silent, distracted Webster, who was clearly thinking hard about something. I nudged him in the side with my elbow, asking, "So, was it everything you hoped it to be?"
He blinked at me. "What?"
I furrowed my brow at him. "Nuenen," I reminded him, "Was it everything you hoped it to be?"
Webster replied distracted, "Uh, yeah. Fine." I studied his face but remained silent. Something was bothering him but I didn't know what.
Before I could ask him what was on his mind, we heard a panicked shout from the front of the line, "Kraut tanks! Kraut tanks!" Every single one of us glanced over to see an entire Panzer brigade making their way for us.
The men jumped off the Cromwells and dove into the ditches on the side of the road nearby. I slid off the side with them, running towards the ditch just as bullets began to rain down on us, plinking off the tanks, and ricocheting off the paved road.
