Free Battle Hymns by Cara Langston

him.
    Dear Charlotte,
    Tomorrow is the day we leave for war. I’ve looked
forward to this for the past several months with great
anticipation. But I don’t feel the relief I expected. It’s
different knowing with certainty the date of our departure, knowing
that in a few weeks, the training exercises will be performed in
real situations with real stakes. I can’t reveal our destination.
As they say, loose lips sink ships. It’ll be across the Atlantic.
That much, I believe, I can share with you.
    Sweetheart, you’ll have to wait some time for my
next letter. The letters I’ll write to you onboard the ship won’t
be sent back to the U.S. until we arrive at our final destination.
They’ve told us it could take up to three weeks. When we do arrive,
I promise I’ll find out how to get your letters mailed to me over
there so I can hear from you again.
    Now I must write my mother and inform her of this
news. You’ll continue to visit her, right? She enjoys your company,
sweetheart. She needs you more than she’ll ever let you know.
    I love you with all my heart. I’m fighting for you.
You’ll hear from me next month, I promise.
    Love,
    Nick
    ***
    S leep continued to evade
Charlotte in those early morning hours. Eventually, predawn light
peeked through the curtains. She threw off her blankets and widened
the gap between the blackout curtains. Once she changed out of her
flannel pajamas, she left the room.
    It was a chilly Saturday morning in late October.
Morning fog lingered, fading the collegiate buildings in the
distance. She walked aimlessly alongside the empty street, the
brown leaves on the sidewalk crunching beneath her boots. She
passed the chapel, library, and main hall before she settled onto a
bench that overlooked the lawn. She pulled her scarf up to her chin
and dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets, listening to the
birds and the few cars driving down Michigan Avenue.
    Charlotte was helpless to thoughts of Nick. He was
currently on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, heading to
God knows where. Europe probably. Wherever and whenever their ship
landed, there would be fighting, the kind of combat Frankie had
described on her first day at the Army Medical Center. In the past
couple months, almost all the men in her ward at the AMC had been
weakened during training exercises—fractured limbs, heat
exhaustion, and gunshot wounds. As awful as some of those injuries
seemed, they were mere accidents. Danger on the front lines was
much greater than training. Fighting against the enemy, soldiers’
lives were on the line.
    Squeezing her eyes shut, she drew in an uneven
breath. She had to put their situation into perspective, a
necessity when she began to panic. She wasn’t the only girl at home
supporting her soldier, and Nick certainly wasn’t the only man
heading to war. In fact, she was lucky. The U.S. homeland hadn’t
been attacked, a stark contrast to those who lived in war-torn
Europe, in cities such as Stalingrad and London. She was able to
continue pursuing her education and hobbies. Those opportunities
meant she had even more of an obligation to lend her shoulder to
the war effort.

 
     
    Ten
     
     
    L ater that morning,
Charlotte reported for duty at the Army Medical Center. When she
entered the nurses’ lounge to store her pocketbook, Rachel stood at
the mirror, pinning on her nurse’s cap. Although they were both
assigned to Convalescent Ward Fifteen, they only worked the same
shift on weekends. Charlotte greeted Rachel and pushed her
pocketbook into her locker.
    Rachel turned from the mirror. A mischievous glint
lit her eyes. “What do you think of the new patient?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t been here since Wednesday. I
had exams,” Charlotte said.
    Rachel’s eyebrows rose. “Oh . . . so
you don’t know yet.”
    Charlotte rested a hand on her hip. “Just tell me.
Who’s this patient? Wait, let me guess . . . He came
in with a sprained ankle. Am I