“So’re we,” agreed the man whose arm had been shot off, “except once when we ran short of supplies—caught on an island without reinforcements.”
“We’ll make that up to you here,” Nancy assured him, and swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to let any of this get her down, or she couldn’t go on looking after them. “I’ll see you get an extra helping of dessert this very day.”
“Say, if you get a whiff of apple pie please label a hunk for me.” Suddenly the blue eyes above the shaggy beard flashed. “You know it was a funny thing. While I was lying out there on the beach when they blew my arm into the sea I got to thinking about Ma’s apple pies. Queer how a fellow can think of such a thing at a time like that. Like a dumb bloke I didn’t worry about the arm much, just thought, ‘Now it would be just too bad if I never get to taste one o’ Ma’s apple pies again!’”
Nancy laughed in spite of her stinging tears. “I’ll see that you get a whole pie if I have to make it myself,” she promised him.
“How’s Everything Back Home?” the Boy Asked
And so she went down the line of beds, cheering and joking with them while she looked after their wounds. There were few complaints. But how eagerly they welcomed the gentle hands that came to minister to them. Most were ready with brave banter, but some, too ill for speech, turned pleading eyes that spoke volumes toward Nancy.
Nancy’s supper hour was forgotten. There were too many who still needed attention. When her period of duty was over she went back to her room, feeling utterly spent. This first contact with those fresh from the fighting zone had taken more out of her than she had anticipated. In spite of the physical weariness Nancy had a wonderful sense of well-being. At the moment she felt certain there was no greater work in the world than that of any army nurse.