CHAPTER THREE

I was awakened early the next day by the sound of the gun in the yard next door. The room shook each time the gun was fired and sent a burst of wind through my window. Hearing the sound of vehicles driving about down below, I quickly got dressed and ran downstairs.

There were already ten ambulances parked near our home. There were another three, but two were up in the mountains, and one was being repaired. I walked over to the one being repaired and spoke to the worker there.

"Has the enemy ever shot at that gun next door to us?" I asked.

"No. The enemy can't see it behind these hills here," he answered.

I then looked carefully at the ten ambulances one by one. The trucks looked pretty clean, and the wheels were all fine. I could not find anything wrong with them. I seemed to think that nothing in this war could go well without my supervision and assistance. But, of course, the war had continued without me while I was away; and the many wounded had been successfully picked up and delivered to hospitals during my absence.

Later on, I went up into the mountains and visited the stations up there. Everything seemed to be in better order than I had remembered. I was told by the major that our Army was going to begin fighting soon and that our ambulances would need to be placed as close to the river as possible. For a moment, I almost felt like I was going to be fighting along with the other soldiers. Of course, it would be the same as always. Me simply waiting for the dead and injured to start appearing and then driving them to the hospitals.

After I got back to the house, I found Rinaldi studying an English grammar book in his bed.

He asked me to go with him to meet Miss Barkley. "Please, you can make her like me!"

We each had two glasses of whisky before we left. Even though the sun was setting, it was still hot outside. Rinaldi then led me to the British hospital. We found Miss Barkley in the yard with another young nurse.

"Hello," Miss Barkley greeted me, "You don't look Italian."

"I'm not," I replied.

Rinaldi began to talk with the other woman. Her name was Helen Ferguson.

"It's so strange that you are in the Italian Army," Miss Barkley continued.

She was a very beautiful and attractive woman: tall, slim, blond hair, with a pair of grey eyes. I noticed that she had a stick in her hands, so I asked her about it.

"It was a young boy's before. He died last year. We were going to get married, but then he died in battle. We'd been together for almost eight years. After his death, his family sent this stick to me."

"I am sorry, Miss Barkley. I didn't mean to mention this."

"It's alright."

We sat down together on a nearby bench, "I like your hair. It's pretty!" I said.

"Thanks. I almost cut it after I heard he was killed."

"Why? It looks so nice!"

"I felt that I owed him something. I waited so long to agree to marry him. I don't know why. Then he joined the Army. I didn't like the idea, but it was already too late. I thought it would be good for him, but ... I think he hated it. Then he died and that part of my life was over."

She then looked over at Rinaldi and asked, "Is he a doctor?"

"Yes, a great one!"

"That's wonderful. It's so hard to find a good one."

"How long have you been a nurse?" I asked.

"From fifteen years old. I came here because of my boyfriend. I thought that if I was a nurse, I could see him in the hospital when he got hurt or ill. I know it was stupid! In the end, he didn't get any cut or gun wound. There was nothing left of him. He was completely destroyed by a bomb. Oh! When will this war end?"

"Someday, it will," I said, "One side will begin to break down."

"Which side? Ours or theirs?"

"I don't know."

"I doubt that it will be the Germans," she said.

We then joined Rinaldi and Miss Ferguson. They were having a difficult time communicating, so I translated for them. He asked Miss Ferguson if she liked England.

"I'm Scottish. We all hate the English," she answered.

"Even Miss Barkley? You hate her too?" he asked.

"No, of course not! I meant England. We hate England."

Soon we told the ladies goodbye and walked back to our home.

"I think Miss Barkley likes you more," Rinaldi said to me along the way, "But Miss Ferguson was very kind."

"I think so too!" I answered, even though I didn't look at her carefully at all. "So what do you think?" I asked, "Is she your kind of woman?"

"I don't think so!"

(end of section)