“And in answer to your question,” Warren continued cheerfully, having noted with satisfaction the women’s expressions, “you’re to stay here indefinitely.”

“Just because the new reporters are as green as an English paddock, we don’t all need to be treated the same way. Marty and I certainly aren’t inexperienced, nor are we prone to hysterics,” Jess said flatly. Just last week she’d been so proud that her photographs were being syndicated all over the world and now here she was being told she’d be kept away from the invasion just because she was a woman. From beautiful success to ridiculous failure, with the snap of a finger. “How do you expect us to report on an invasion in mainland Europe if we’re stuck here in London?”

“We don’t. The men will do that. You can go with the Red Cross doughnut girls to the camps in the south of England and spread smiles and anything else you care to.” Warren ground out his cigarette.

“You can’t make us stay.” Martha was firm.

“Did I forget to mention that we have official rules now?” Warren leaned back, relaxed, legs wide apart, arms stretched along the back of the booth, unlike Jess and Martha, who were hunched over their drinks.

“The rules state, in writing at last, everything that’s already in practice.” Warren began to recite: “The inherent difficulties, such as housing facilities, which arise due to the presence of women in the forward areas naturally make their ready acceptance as Correspondents a problem. It is believed that sufficient male Correspondents are available to make it unnecessary to utilize women in the forward areas to cover spot news and technical subjects. It is recognized, however, that certain stories, such as those concerning nurses, can best be handled from a woman’s point of view. I hope you’re grateful to me for conceding that you do a better job of writing about nurses. But none of your nurse stories can be filed until the men have filed their war stories. You have to wait at the back of the line for censoring, transmitting; everything. Cheers.” He finished his drink and stood up, having done the damage, leaving them to wallow in it.

“Shit,” Martha said. “I heard that only the men will be going across with the invasion fleet, whatever and wherever that is. But I didn’t know…”

“That the heretofore unrecorded rules are now printed in black and white for all the PROs to beat us over the head with,” Jess finished. “What a joke. It’ll never be safe. Not until somebody wins. Does that mean they’ll never let us over there?”

Neither woman spoke. They drank instead, and smoked.

Then Jess said, “It’s lucky that I got a set of orders before Warren returned from leave. If I go now, I might just get myself on a transport that doesn’t know anything about women being quarantined.”

“Warren will not only kill you when he finds out, he’ll do it with his bare hands,” Martha said, staring at her.