We dove into a slit trench behind the main building and stared up into the blue sky, swiveling our heads, straining to see any sign of enemy aircraft. The sirens were wailing, the shrill sound mixing with the voices of nurses, doctors, and GIs as they tumbled out of the building and made for the newly dug trenches that littered the area. They were yelling to or at each other in high-pitched nervous voices, excited and scared at the same time, trying to sound like they were in charge, still in control of things. Several more people jammed themselves into our trench, one nurse laughing as if this was school recess, another trying not to cry, her hand held to her mouth.
"They wouldn't bomb a hospital, would they?" she asked, the quivering of her lower lip just visible.
Gloria reached over at patted her arm. "Don't you worry, honey. They're probably ours and it's a false alarm."
The sirens wound down and stopped, and another strange sound took its place. The air filled with a low, dull, throb that seemed to come from all around us. The yelling stopped as this new sound enveloped us, growing stronger each second. It took on a nasty, buzzing quality that reminded me of hornets or yellow jackets. People started popping up from the trenches, twisting their necks, looking for the source of the droning, ever-increasing noise. I knew that it might be too late once they saw it.
"Get down!" I yelled. "Get your heads down!" I threw my arm around Gloria, yanking her down, nearly burying our heads in gravelly dirt at the bottom of the trench. As the smell of damp, chalky soil hit my nostrils, I had to force myself to keep my face in it. The sound grew. I didn't know if anyone had heard or listened to me, but I didn't really care right then. They had fair warning. Only a fool goes sightseeing in an air raid.
There was a whistling noise, then a sharp sound like lightning breaking, followed by a blast of air I felt sweep over the ground above our heads. Dirt blew in on us, then more blasts came. The earth shook, rattling every bone in my body and sending shock waves of air and debris flying overhead. Even below ground level, I was hurled against the side of the trench with each bomb blast. The bombs struck closer and closer, more of them now, until the blasts became a single noise of explosions and airplane engines, forcing everything else into silent submission. I looked over at the laughing nurse. Her hands were clapped to her ears, her mouth wide open in an inaudible scream, her eyes squeezed shut, and her head shaking back and forth.
I twisted around to look up and saw dark forms in the sky as they sped by, one after another, their wide curved wings sporting black crosses. Heinkel 111, a small voice somewhere in the back of my head said, as I recalled a silhouette from Aircraft Recognition Class in OCS. This was a surprise. I never used to be able to remember anything from my classes when I was at school in Boston. But no one was trying to blow me up then. As I thought about that, I realized it had become quiet. The laughing nurse wasn't screaming anymore, she was crying and I could hear her. Someone else was yelling in the distance, but the bombs had stopped and the aircraft sounds were receding.
Gloria was looking around too, a dazed expression dulling her face. I took her hand. It was shaking. So was the rest of her. I could feel her muscles tense as she fought for control.
"Are you okay?" I said, a little too loudly in the sudden silence. Her eyes were wide and I thought she might start to cry or panic. She took a breath and I could see her pull herself together. Eyes closed, she shook her head up and down, then opened them. Her hand was still.
"I'm fine. I think I have work to do." She winked at me as she got up to look around, dusting the dirt off her clothes as she stood up. "Come on, girls," she said to the two nurses, "they're going to need our help. We'll do our crying later, honey."
She touched the shoulder of the tearful nurse and bounded out of the trench. The nurses rose, held onto each other, and followed her out. They wiped dust, dirt, and tears away, and went to work, streaks of grime showing on their cheeks where their hands had brushed their faces. I had to admire them. Me, I just wanted to stay in this trench until the end of the war. I began to wonder why Major Harding hadn't hung onto Gloria. She was right up his alley. Or, maybe she hadn't hung onto him. I could think of a lot of reasons for that.
I stuck my head up and took in the view. Smoke was billowing up in front of the building where the vehicles and supplies were stored, and flames licked at a pile of wooden crates. Everyone was running in that direction. I ran towards Kaz's room. I knew I should probably help out but I had to know if Kaz was still in one piece. It was bad enough that I'd gotten him into this fix, without getting him killed in an air raid. Off in the distance I started to hear the sounds of more bombs exploding, far away. Crump… crump… crump. It sounded like the harbor in Algiers was being plastered. We had been hit by a handful of bombers while the rest went on to the harbor. The stacks of supplies outside the hospital must have been a secondary target. Maybe they hadn't marked the building with a red cross yet. In one corridor the wall was blown out and smoke from the fires outside was pouring in. The acrid smell of burning rubber filled the hall and I held my hand over my mouth and nose as I checked the rooms. They were all empty so I kept on toward Kaz, hoping this was the only hit the hospital had taken.
When I got to his corridor, I saw Doctor Dunbar treating a couple of stretcher cases for cuts from flying glass. Nurses and orderlies were running around like ants from a stirred up nest. There was a feeling of controlled hysteria in the air as they did their jobs with eyes still wide from fear and shock. For their first time under fire, they weren't doing too badly. It wasn't my first and yet I was glad I hadn't bawled like a baby when the bombs kept coming and coming.
I opened Kaz's door. His eyes were closed and he was so still I thought for a second he was dead. When I finally saw his chest rise and fall, I let out my breath. I was relieved, but at the same time amazed anyone could be doped up enough to sleep through an air raid. I left Kaz to his dreams and asked a nurse for directions to Ward C.
I headed out of the building, across the courtyard, and into a separate brick structure that jutted out from a tin-roofed white washed stucco building. A sign announced it was a MEDICAL CORPS SUPPLY DEPOT. The modern brick wing had bars on the windows and a small sign that said WARD C. It must have been an Algerian jailhouse until Uncle Sam showed up. There was a guard at the door who saluted.
I entered the reception area. A corridor led off it with doors on either side. The fresh Army-green paint job's smell mingled with the odor of strong disinfectant. A nurse sat at a desk working on charts. I asked if there was a French patient named Dupree in the joint. There was: Jerome Dupree, Georgie's kid brother. I walked down the hall to his room and took a deep breath before I knocked. I'd brought news like this to families a few times before. I didn't like it much.
I rapped twice and opened the door. A young kid, maybe eighteen or nineteen at most, with a mop of thick, dark hair nearly jumped out of his bed. Or would have if he hadn't been chained to it. He had manacles on his ankles attached by a chain that looped through the steel bed frame. The windows were barred and if he was going anywhere, the whole bed was going with him. His arm was in a sling, his head was bandaged, and his eyes were wide with fear. But I wasn't the person he expected and the look of fear disappeared.
"Who are you?" he asked. He spoke slowly, as if figuring out the right order for the words as he went along.
"Billy Boyle is my name. You're Georges's brother, right?"
At the sound of his brother's name he brightened up and started jabbering. "Yes, did he send you? How did you know I was here? Have you been looking for me? I have been waiting for you three days!" His accent was pretty thick and I wondered if I had misunderstood him.
"What do you mean, waiting for me?"
"I did not know it would be you, Monsieur Boyle, but Georges told me he was meeting with some American officers and would put them in touch with me."
"We were on our way to you and the other rebels, but-"
"No, no, not about the coup. About the notebook! Did not Georges tell you everything? There is not much time!"
I was confused. What notebook? I just wanted to get delivering the bad news over with. I tried to remember what my Dad used to say. Tell them it's bad news first thing. Then tell them to sit down. Then tell them. I had watched and listened to him deliver the bad news dozens of times before I had to do it myself, alone. I'm not sure his advice helped, but at least it gave me a plan, and maybe that's all he meant it to do.
"Jerome, back up a second. I have some bad news for you." There. He was already sitting down, so time to deliver.
"What…?" His mouth stayed open, a confused and scared look on his face. His eyes darted around the room, as if he were waiting for someone else to come in.
"Georges is dead. He was shot the morning of the invasion."
"No." His head sank back into the pillow. "No, no. He was supposed to meet the Americans, not fight them. You must be mistaken."
"I'm not mistaken, Jerome. He did meet us. He was taking us to General Juin's residence when we were stopped." I could see in his eyes that he knew what was coming next.
"Stopped by the Gardes Mobiles?"
"Yes. A German officer and a French captain…"
"Villard?"
"Yes. He killed your brother. You know Villard?"
Jerome squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked out as his lips quivered. He put his good hand up to his face and sobbed. I waited, wanting to be somewhere else. Wondering where Diana was and how I could get out of here to look for her.
"I know him," Jerome said finally, spitting out the words with hatred. "He is a criminal and a traitor. And he will kill me next."
"Why you? You're not in the army."
"It has nothing to do with that, Monsieur Boyle. It has to do with the notebook. That damned notebook!" He slammed his fist on the mattress. "It will get us all killed."
"What notebook? What does it have to do with the invasion?"
"Georges did not mention this at all to you?"
"No, he just said you were one of the leaders of the students and that wed meet you later that morning."
"They are looking for it, and an officer from the Gardes Mobiles is coming today to escort me to Villard. He must believe I still have it. You must help me."
"I don't understand."
"Someone in the Gardes Mobiles stole the notebook from Villard and gave it to me. I couldn't read it since it was in code. I was going to give it to you, but we were taken. I was shot and passed out. When I woke up here the notebook was gone. We were allowed visitors at first, and I received word that our contact in the Gardes Mobiles had been discovered. He probably talked and told them I had the notebook. I believe that is why they are coming today."
As if on cue, we heard doors slam and the sound of people walking down the hallway.
"What is in this notebook, Jerome?"
"Do not speak of it, and please do not let them take me!" he said in a hushed voice, his eyes watching the door. It opened.
"Oh, excuse me," Gloria said. "I didn't know you were in here, Billy. Is this the young man you were telling me about?"
"Yes. I just was telling him about his brother's death."
Gloria set down a jug of water and a couple of glasses on the bedside table. A nurse followed her in with a tray holding several bottles of pills. Gloria bent over the bed and took Jerome's good hand in hers.
"I am so sorry for your loss. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You are very kind," Jerome said, struggling to put on a brave face. "No, thank you. I can't think of anything."
"Any chance we could release Jerome into the custody of his parents?" I asked.
"I'm sorry Billy, but this is a restricted ward. I can't release any of these patients. Orders. From Headquarters."
I knew that last bit was aimed right at me, and I deserved it for putting her on the spot. Had to give it a try though.
"Are the French going to take custody of some of these boys today? Can Jerome have some time to get over his shock before you hand him over?"
"That's very considerate of you, Billy, but there's no need to worry.
Lieutenant Mathenet is having his shrapnel wounds attended to. Nothing life-threatening, but he won't be questioning anybody today."
"Good… How's Joe? Wasn't he with Mathenet?"
"Yes, I haven't seen him since the raid. He's probably busy clearing the bomb damage. Now, get out and let Jerome rest. I have medications to give him and the doctor is making his rounds."
"I'll just sit with him, if that's all right."
"It is not, Lieutenant. You can come back later in the day, but right now, out! That's a medical and a military order." She tapped the captain's bars on her blouse.
"Okay, Captain," I said, raising my arms in mock surrender. "Jerome, I'll see you later and we'll talk some more. Your brother was a very brave officer."
"Thank you for bringing me the news yourself. I appreciate hearing it from someone who knew Georges."
I nodded and looked into his eyes, trying to signal I'd be back as soon as I could. I went out the door and almost collided with Doctor Dunbar, Boy Wonder.
"You still hanging around here, Boyle? Isn't there a war on or something?"
He wasn't looking for a response and I didn't give him one. I sure knew there was a war going on, but I was trying to figure out what the or something was. And what this notebook business was all about. My head swam as I half-stumbled, half-shuffled out of the ward.
I was dead on my feet. No sleep the night before, a young soldier shot right in front of me, a secret murder witnessed, an emergency run to the hospital with a dying friend, an air raid with explosions that nearly knocked my teeth out, telling a kid his brother was dead, and hearing about a mysterious notebook, all before lunch. It was too much. I yawned. That only made me more tired.
I tried to focus on Jerome's notebook, but all I could think about was Diana. Why was I still hanging around here when I should be out looking for her? Maybe it was time to blow this joint.
To hell with the notebook. Probably some French political thing, so why should I care? Still, it nagged at me. I needed to see Jerome alone again and find out just a little more. Then I had to figure out a way to get to Bone. That contact at the supply depot was still the only clue that might lead to Diana. I yawned again, and my feet dragged as I headed to the mess hall to get some coffee. My eyelids were getting heavy and I wanted to take a little nap. Maybe some shut-eye would be better than coffee, I thought. No harm in that.
I was so intent on talking myself into taking time to sleep that I never noticed the truck. I kind of heard tires crunching on gravel but I didn't pay any attention until the driver laid on the horn. Only then I realized I was walking down the middle of a road, a long driveway that led from the Supply Depot and around the hospital to the main entrance. I jumped to the right just in time to avoid a deuce and a half truck barreling along as if it was on a racetrack. I turned to yell at the driver and give him the single digit salute, but I never got a word out. I was too stunned. Luc Villard was riding in the passenger's seat, wearing a U.S. Army olive drab shirt and khaki overseas cap, tilted at a jaunty angle. I could swear he smiled at me.
I yelled "Hey Stop!" and swallowed a mouthful of dust and grit kicked up by the truck's tires. I didn't stand a chance but I ran after it anyway, making it around the corner of the main building in time to see it hit the main road and turn right. Away from Algiers. Toward Bone.
I watched the truck disappear, lost in the flow of military traffic. People began to run by me, toward the medical supply depot. One orderly nearly knocked me over in his rush, and I turned to follow him, glad to have someone else take the lead.