“You’ll all start classes tomorrow, it’s really an orientation to tell you how the RAF does everything. Protocols and all that. It’s a total waste of time. You’ll do just fine without it. They just want to impress you with how efficient we are.” Pru went to take a shower herself then, and soon came back to see them in a clean flight suit, as they were leaving for the mess hall. Pru was postponing dinner to check on her patient. “I’m off to see one of my boys,” she explained. “He gave us a bit of a fright today. You’ll each be flying with one of us for the first few flights, and then you’ll be on your own. I hope I get a chance to fly with you,” Pru said, and walked down the stairs with them, and then walked swiftly to the hospital. The soldier they’d saved that afternoon was still alive, but in critical condition. There was a good chance that her corpsman had saved his leg. She sat next to the boy who had nearly died and talked to him quietly until he drifted off to sleep. He’d been happy to see her again, and she told him how well he was doing and how brave he was.

She hitched a ride to the pub on the way back to tell Ed what a good job he’d done. He was a strapping, handsome blond Irishman who’d been a pharmacist’s assistant before the war, and had trained as a medic in the army. He dreamed of becoming a doctor, but probably never would. He had too many relatives who needed his help in Ireland. His father had died when he was a boy and he had worked all the odd jobs he could to help his mother support his seven younger brothers and sisters.