Red-Cross and Redder Lips

The Noisome New World

     "September Twenty-sixth, 1939.
War isn't beautiful. There is no honor in this, and I have to say it is the ugliest sight I have ever seen. We haven't left our hospital station since we arrived, post hasn't even been set up so you will be receiving this later than we were promised. Things aren't all shit, though. There are little things, like that I have the whole upper floor to myself and my station partner because we sleep near storage. Her name is Ingrid Ziegler, a late twenties or so beautiful woman who must be mixed with some African American decent. She is wonderful! She is loud and stands her ground, we sneak out sometimes and walk the grounds around our building, and she lives as if she truly is in her youth as we all are. Ingrid is the brightest face here, if it wasn't for her and her strong physique, my mind would rot with insanity.
Yours sincerely, Amélie."

She clicks her journal shut with a large sigh and lays her head back on her pillow. It must be about daybreak because she can hear shoes clicking on the wood floors below them and women talking as food is planned out. As if planned, Ingrid pushes the door open as Amélie's mind traces around what she wrote of her, "Amélie, you need to get dressed and get down here, now, it's urgent." Her voice is stern and cut to the point, it makes a smile grow on the laying medic's face, but it is short lived. The door slams as the building comes to life with action and talking. Ms. Amélie Dejean slides into her uniform and clips her tag on as she stumbles out the door in a hurry, "what could this be about now? We've been stationed here for forever, wh-" Her whining is cut short by Ingrid's hand, "Shush, listen, ok? Here, I've been listening through the vent down on the floor." Amélie bends to put her ear to the rusted vent, and for a minute can only hear muffled static and dripping water.
The radio from the Doctors' quarters rings to life from the room below them, mixed with a decent amount of voices,"this is the right channel, right?.... Yes I figured it was- I'll turn it up in a moment, everyone be silent! There! (...and this just in, Adolf Hitler has just signed the Directive No. 4, the war against Poland is finished. Germany won... my God, he won..) 'He couldn't have! That's not possible- I..." The loudest voice from before chokes to silence as the room dims to nothing. The door below slams open as some leave to discuss with their students. It's only then when Amélie can see past her stomach knots and realize that Ingrid is leaning over and listening in, "No way. No fucking way!" She hits her fist on the wall she rests against and mumbles under her breath in English. "I-... I have to get some air, I can't..." Amélie manages as she slips to the window, clicking it open and putting her face in her hands. "We're next, aren't we? We have to be, there's no way we aren't.."

That night, the news is officially broken to all those under the roof, and even more that the two didn't hear from eves-dropping earlier. Fernsan stands in front of the students, how can she be so collected at a time like this? "Girls, I know it's hard to hear, but please listen. Since that German document has been passed, our French government has began prepping for the Soviet's and Nazi's plans. France is officially in war-mode and we will be stocking and homing soldiers by the end of this week. May God be with you all." No one says a thing; some cry to others, but most go to their rooms to think. Amélie goes to her window, and pulls out her journal. Ingrid plays a record and sits with Amélie as she adds to her letter.
"Hell is on the way. Please stay safe. I love you all."
      Before they both know it, Ingrid has one of her strong arms around Amélie and she sobs into her shoulder, the only emotions between them is a safety, the tie if those who can't leave, but must serve their homeland. Even the sky cries; warm rain falls over the fields in front of them, Bing Crosby sings crackily on the record player and the air is thin and unsatisfying.