Battle Hymns by Cara Langston Page A

bedroom.
     
    June 8, 1942
    Chevy Chase, Maryland
    Dear Nick,
    This morning my application to become a volunteer
nurses’ aide was accepted. I have to train and take courses for
almost seven weeks before I can start working, but what else would
I do this summer? I want to do my part in this war, even though my
meager efforts don’t compare to yours.
    I’m glad you’re going out and having some fun every
so often, even if it means you’re dancing with other girls. I trust
you and I know you love me.
    My heart longs for the next time I can see you
again, hold you in my arms, and kiss you. I’ve daydreamed of that
moment every single day since you left. It’s almost worse you’re
not far away from me. It’d only be a hop, skip, and a jump down to
Virginia Beach, but I know you’re not allowed to leave and I’m not
allowed to visit. I guess this has been good practice for when
we’re continents apart from each other.
    I love you so much. I couldn’t have dreamed up a
better fiancé. Keep up the good work and make all of us proud. I
look forward to hearing from you soon.
    Love,
    Charlotte
     
    She scribbled the address in Little Creek, Virginia
onto the envelope, folded the letter neatly, and sealed it inside.
She attached a stamp in the upper right-hand corner and kissed it.
After so many months, the process had become routine.

 
     
    Eight
     
     
    P aper certificates and
wooden pins covered with the embroidered Red Cross emblem were
distributed around the room at the chapter house. “Congratulations,
ladies,” said the head of the Nurses’ Aide Committee. “You should
be proud to call yourselves members of the Volunteer Nurses’ Aide
Corps. Give yourselves a round of applause.”
    The new class of nurses’ aides, ranging in age from
eighteen to fifty, clapped for each other.
    “Hospital assignments have been posted on the
bulletin board in the hall. We did our best to accommodate your
location. If there are any problems, please see me. Thank you.”
    The two dozen women rose from their seats and, in an
excited chatter, beelined it to the hallway to find their
assignments.
    Rachel Stern, a skinny girl with dark hair, pale
skin, and wide-set eyes, linked her arm with Charlotte’s. “Maybe
we’ll be assigned to the same hospital.”
    Charlotte smiled. “Maybe so.”
    Both young women completed their courses with the
same instructors and in the same group at the training hospital.
They developed a camaraderie over the past seven weeks, especially
since they were both unprepared for the duties they faced on day
one. Looking back, Charlotte could laugh at her naivety. She hadn’t
expected some of the duties to be so labor-intensive. They scrubbed
floors, cleaned bathrooms, and changed bed sheets. Sanitization
helped prevent the spread of disease and was vital to the hospital
environment. Thankfully, these responsibilities rotated among the
nurses’ aides, and Charlotte only had to clean for one day every
few weeks.
    Most of her time was spent interacting with patients.
She cast fractures with wool and plaster, and later removed those
casts with a handsaw. She took vital signs. She knew which areas of
the body were best for palpating heart rate and how to calculate
beats per minute. She cleaned shallow wounds and applied bandages.
She even changed bedpans and bathed patients in bed, knowing how
best to maintain privacy and dignity.
    In addition to practical training, the Nurses’ Aide
Committee also stressed the importance of bedside manner and
professional ethics. With the patient, nurses’ aides were always
kind and courteous. They remembered the name of each patient and
greeted him before any procedure so the patient was at ease. They
kept conversations light and pleasant. And if the patient asked
about his medical condition, they said they were unable to form an
opinion and he should talk with his nurse or physician.
    The aides never questioned the authority of the
doctor. The manual emphasized how