On a Wing and a Prayer

Picnics, Phartzac and Painful Goodbyes

Sunday, August 15th, 1943: AAF Grove, Berkshire: 2000 HRS

The constant ticking of the clock in the corner of the base supply closet was the only sound filling the air as the Angel of Death's nurses tallied their bandages, morphine syrettes, and other supplies that needed refilling after their busy weeks in the air. Looking up from her clipboard, Ruth sighed, seeing Hope staring at the wall before her in a daze.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Ruth called quietly, already having an idea of who was on her friend's mind.

Hope blinked a few times and looked over at the blonde with a half-hearted smile. "Gale...I miss him."

"I know," she sighed softly, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. "I miss Johnny, too. It's been almost three weeks. I love his letters but-"

"It's not the same," Hope finished for her.

Before either of the women could continue a voice echoed through the almost empty building. "You girls in here?"

Frank.

"We're in the back!"

His shoes clacked against the concrete floors as he made his way to the back storage room, sending the girls a half-grin when he stuck his head inside the door. If they were paying attention, they would have noticed the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"How're you two holding up?"

Their eyes met briefly, silently communicating whether or not they would be truthful. Ruth's pale blues decided the answer was no, and Hope's gaze moved back to her clipboard.

"We're fine," she answered, reaching up to grab a bandage from the crate. "Just tired."

Frank moved to lean his shoulder against the doorframe, holding his captain's cap under his arm as he spoke gently. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

He looked over at them with a worried expression as the ticking of the clock filled the room again, neither of them speaking up. "You would tell me if there was something wrong, right?"
Ruth's stomach sank. "Of course," she murmured, turning to mirror Hope, who had her back turned to the man while filling up supply boxes.

Frank sighed and ran a tired hand down his face. "How about you both call it a day, huh? Go get some chow and then relax. You've been going almost non-stop for weeks."

Since their last visit to Thorpe Abbotts on July 31st, they'd spent almost every day in the air, transporting patients from Italy to Africa, sometimes spending the night in nurses' tents in the middle of the Tunisian desert. If they weren't on a run, they were doing things around the base, constantly on the move in preparation for the worsening invasion of Sicily. The sheer volume of casualties was horrendous, and it seemed that the men got younger with each one they laid eyes on.

Carnage takes a toll...and not just on those fighting on the fronts with bullets flying around them.

"Come on," Frank urged, throwing his cap back on. He walked over and pulled each of them under an arm, turning toward the closet door. "That's an order."

Hope raised an eyebrow at him, unable to keep a smirk off her lips. "What makes you think we're gonna start listening to you now?"

This time that Frank smiled, it was genuine. "I am a Captain, after all, Lieutenants."

He walked them to the main exit of the hut, released them from his hold, and opened the door for them. They each wore a grin, and he saw it as a win. "Now go eat up. I'll make sure everything makes it on the Angel."

As he lightly pushed the pair out the door, Ruth turned around. "There's just one thing I need-"

"I got it, Ruth," he interrupted. "I promise."