horrible sneak one more second. “I need a bath.”
“Yes, of course, Doctor. Please accept my apologies for the disruption of the hospital. You won’t have to deal with Rose Culver again.”
Rose.
The one person he trusted to always, always do her job, lend a hand, offer him comfort, even if it only in the form of a cup of tea, was gone. Her quick wit and intelligence made daily life bearable. Her calm smile, quiet words and devotion to duty made tending the wounded seem almost easy.
He paused in the act of closing the door. “Will she be tried?”
“Yes, after lengthy questioning, and executed for her treachery.”
“I want...” How to phrase it so this piece of filth would happily go along with it? “An opportunity to tell her exactly what I think of her. Do you think that could be arranged?”
A slimy smile slid across Carl’s face. “I’m sure that could be accommodated.”
* * *
Rose woke at dawn to the sound of a rooster crowing. She made use of the bedpan, then remade her bed and sat on it, waiting.
It didn’t take long.
Three men entered the room without warning. No knock or introduction. She stood as they came in and nodded as if she were receiving them at the hospital.
“Rose Culver, you are to come with us for questioning.”
She raised her chin. “Certainly.”
She followed them out of the room and down several hallways to a large office where she was seated in front of a wide desk. The man facing her was neither old nor young. His face was plain except for a large, long waxed moustache. His steel-coloured hair was clipped short to his head.
“You have been accused of harbouring and aiding British and Belgian soldiers.”
She didn’t respond. What was there to say?
“How many men have you helped?”
She remained quiet.
“Who else is involved in this plot to kill German soldiers?”
Finally, an accusation she had a response for. “Plot? I’m a nurse. No more, no less. I treat the wounded and help those I can. That is all.”
He said nothing.
“Sir,” she went on. “I have nothing. No money or goods not already committed to the hospital. We don’t have enough bandages, ether or even food to feed ourselves and our patients. No one has enough.”
“And yet there’s been a steady trickle of men out of Belgium. Soldiers, mostly British, are finding their way out.”
“What is that to me? I’m sure soldiers are taught to read maps and live off the land. Nurses don’t concern themselves with such things.”
“You are an intelligent woman.”
“Are you suggesting I outsmarted the entire German army?”
“No, but you are intelligent enough to aid a few men on their way to the border.”
“Again, you’re attributing to me resources, knowledge and time I don’t have.”
The soldier smiled, showing his teeth. “I think you’re much more resourceful than you imply. I also think you don’t work alone. Things would go much easier for you if you tell me who is working with you.”
“All I have ever done is my duty.”
The officer sat back in his chair. His eyes narrowed. “Tell me about your duty.”
“I’m a nurse. I treat the wounded.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Often, it’s the simple things. Providing food and water, clean clothing and an opportunity to bathe. I help them write letters to their families. Sometimes I do nothing more than hold a hand and offer comfort as a man dies.”
“You do all this for German soldiers?”
“Of course. I work for the Red Cross, sir. It matters not to me what country a man fights for.”
“I find it difficult to believe you would treat German soldiers the same as British soldiers.”
“When a man arrives at my hospital, the first thing we do is remove his uniform. Country of origin becomes moot. Severity of wound is what we see. With every patient we receive we ask ourselves, what does this man need to be healthy and whole?”
The officer stared down the length of his nose at her. Then he gestured
“Yes, of course, Doctor. Please accept my apologies for the disruption of the hospital. You won’t have to deal with Rose Culver again.”
Rose.
The one person he trusted to always, always do her job, lend a hand, offer him comfort, even if it only in the form of a cup of tea, was gone. Her quick wit and intelligence made daily life bearable. Her calm smile, quiet words and devotion to duty made tending the wounded seem almost easy.
He paused in the act of closing the door. “Will she be tried?”
“Yes, after lengthy questioning, and executed for her treachery.”
“I want...” How to phrase it so this piece of filth would happily go along with it? “An opportunity to tell her exactly what I think of her. Do you think that could be arranged?”
A slimy smile slid across Carl’s face. “I’m sure that could be accommodated.”
* * *
Rose woke at dawn to the sound of a rooster crowing. She made use of the bedpan, then remade her bed and sat on it, waiting.
It didn’t take long.
Three men entered the room without warning. No knock or introduction. She stood as they came in and nodded as if she were receiving them at the hospital.
“Rose Culver, you are to come with us for questioning.”
She raised her chin. “Certainly.”
She followed them out of the room and down several hallways to a large office where she was seated in front of a wide desk. The man facing her was neither old nor young. His face was plain except for a large, long waxed moustache. His steel-coloured hair was clipped short to his head.
“You have been accused of harbouring and aiding British and Belgian soldiers.”
She didn’t respond. What was there to say?
“How many men have you helped?”
She remained quiet.
“Who else is involved in this plot to kill German soldiers?”
Finally, an accusation she had a response for. “Plot? I’m a nurse. No more, no less. I treat the wounded and help those I can. That is all.”
He said nothing.
“Sir,” she went on. “I have nothing. No money or goods not already committed to the hospital. We don’t have enough bandages, ether or even food to feed ourselves and our patients. No one has enough.”
“And yet there’s been a steady trickle of men out of Belgium. Soldiers, mostly British, are finding their way out.”
“What is that to me? I’m sure soldiers are taught to read maps and live off the land. Nurses don’t concern themselves with such things.”
“You are an intelligent woman.”
“Are you suggesting I outsmarted the entire German army?”
“No, but you are intelligent enough to aid a few men on their way to the border.”
“Again, you’re attributing to me resources, knowledge and time I don’t have.”
The soldier smiled, showing his teeth. “I think you’re much more resourceful than you imply. I also think you don’t work alone. Things would go much easier for you if you tell me who is working with you.”
“All I have ever done is my duty.”
The officer sat back in his chair. His eyes narrowed. “Tell me about your duty.”
“I’m a nurse. I treat the wounded.”
“What do you mean exactly?”
“Often, it’s the simple things. Providing food and water, clean clothing and an opportunity to bathe. I help them write letters to their families. Sometimes I do nothing more than hold a hand and offer comfort as a man dies.”
“You do all this for German soldiers?”
“Of course. I work for the Red Cross, sir. It matters not to me what country a man fights for.”
“I find it difficult to believe you would treat German soldiers the same as British soldiers.”
“When a man arrives at my hospital, the first thing we do is remove his uniform. Country of origin becomes moot. Severity of wound is what we see. With every patient we receive we ask ourselves, what does this man need to be healthy and whole?”
The officer stared down the length of his nose at her. Then he gestured
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