That something could be the break of a new day, eyes peeling back out of the darkest slumbers, the shuffling of cards before an intense gamble of win or loss, or the tickling of one's throat, signaling the beginning of a newfound illness.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Maude Bluell wasn't sure if she could consider feeling fortunate to wake up to such a day, when all days nowadays were filled in such deep darkness. But, she tried her best to hold onto those traces of light, finding solace in the fates of the gamblers who won — who proved they could not only fight a war but for their survival. And she too had to try to survive under the pretenses placed upon her. She knew she couldn't just sit around and let the tickle win — let the illness of her country's enemies spread like a disease.
She needed to fight for what was right just as much, and she fought alright through the Red Cross. She figured it wouldn't hurt, signing up for the war effort — serving some sort of support. But the person who signed up for such a fleet in 1940, definitely wasn't the same person who had found herself stationed at Thorpe Abbotts, England in 1943. Working as a nurse with concentrated care for the men who mastered the air, she respected their bravery in risking their lives as they combated through the sky. The pilots that resided on this particular base were formally known as the 100th Bomb Group, informally known as the Bloody 100th.
Because of this, loss became a regular part of everyday life — a routine for Nurse Bluell as the numbers of documented casualties raised on her chart. She learned to grow a thicker skin as the men she cared for left as fast as they came, blurring into the lines of her vision and burning deeply into the cusp of her memory.
Yet, that very first week in the hospital of Thorpe Abbots proved to be clear — clearer than the skies above that had ripped her men from the air and left the ones who remained grasping onto it as they struggled to take in the simplest of breaths.
She could recall every miniscule feature of the very first man to die in her arms.. The way her fingers had been so deeply coated in his blood, traces remained under her fingernails in passing days. Like a broken record, the image of his eyes bulging out of his head during his final breath, played over and over in her head, taking up every remnant of space in her mind and leaving her in a trance.
So much so, that her colleagues grew concerned when they found her lost in the wall in front of her, still as a statue, as the water ran hard against her skin for longer than it should have.
The remedy for such a state was a recommended night out on the town, which really consisted of a gathering on base. A social event amongst the many factions, men and women alike, letting loose and having fun.
But who could find a sense of enjoyment after watching a man die?
Maude Bluell sure couldn't.
To her dismay, Nurse Charlotte "Lottie" Reign and Nurse Susan "Susie Q" Quinn — Bluell's colleagues and quarter mates — did not take no for an answer, dragging Miss. Bluell out of the safe haven of their room to sulk to the boistorous function of the night.
Little did Nurse Bluell know that something would in fact start that very same night. Something she'd find to be just that, only for it to become nothing — nothing at all?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
And as it is told — on a hot summer's night in 1943 — one Nurse Maude "Blue" Bluell would bump into one Major John "Bucky" Egan.
And the rest would very well be something...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
