“We’re all the same here, Emma. That’s what the uniform is about, especially for us. We’re all nurses, trying to keep these guys alive. It doesn’t matter where we came from, or why we joined up. We’re here to save their lives. It’s a rotten business, and we’re all in it together. And she may be ‘posh,’ as you put it, but she’s not thinking about that when one of those boys bleeds all over her or throws up on her, or she has his guts in her hands, or he dies in her arms. Who gives a damn about posh then? I’m sure she doesn’t.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Emma conceded. “I always expect people to think less of me because I’m from Poplar and they can hear it. And people are such snobs sometimes.”

“Not here, and anyone worth a damn as a human being won’t care. I know this is a ridiculously snobbish country, but let’s hope the war changes that. You’re every bit as good as I am, and possibly a better nurse. These girls are American. They didn’t grow up with all that crap that you and I did, which tries to keep everyone in their place, and has for centuries. You’re much smarter and far more educated than all the posh girls I’ve ever known. All they had were dancing lessons, how to do watercolors, and they were taught French. Most of them are so dumb, they bore me to sobs and I can’t sit through lunch with them. It didn’t sound like Alex was too enchanted with her world either before she enlisted and came out here. That way of life just doesn’t make a lot of sense anymore, not to me, and maybe not to her either. Give her a chance.” Emma nodded and made her peace with it. Pru always made so much sense, and she was so fair.

The first day that Lizzie went out with Pru and her corpsmen, her knees were shaking as they climbed the ladder to the plane. She had heard so much about their missions by then that she wondered if she would be equal to the nursing requirements, or even if their plane would be shot down. It happened. Several of the flight nurses and air evac crews had been killed. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. But she was more worried about doing the right things as a nurse than getting killed herself.

Pru could see how nervous she was, and tried to reassure her, as they checked supplies and made sure that all their beds were ready.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you.” Pru smiled at her.

“I’m more worried that I won’t know what to do for the men in an emergency. This is my first combat mission.”