A Fighting Chance at Love

Holding a set of dog tags in her hands like a rosary, Mabel let the tears flow freely from her eyes. She couldn't believe he was really gone. Placing her hand over her stomach, she gently rubbed her belly, soothing the baby that was within her womb. She sighed heavily and stretched out on her blue plush sofa. She was fortunate that she lived in a tiny but well-furnished apartment far away from any combat area. Though it was the middle of the day, she felt listless and was still suffering from her bout of morning nausea. Mabel could hear the vague echoes of cannon fire in the distance, and it pounded out a rhythm, lulling her into a relaxed state. As she shut her eyes and drifted off, she recalled her own days spent on the battlefield and saw the silhouette of the man she loved against a crimson skyline.

Feeling a need to help out with the war efforts, Mabel decided to volunteer as a nurse in the Union army, despite her father's wishes.

She was smart enough to pick any career she wanted, but she took easily to the medical field and had a natural inclination for understanding the body's needs. She also was a scientist and liked to study things. She tended not to make snap decisions, but she had also proved her prowess in saving lives in the local hospital before leaving for the battle lines. Mabel arrived at the Union's fort near Boston on a rainy Monday morning.

She was greeted by the head nurse in the unit and saw a row of tents that had been set up as a makeshift infirmary. Seeing there was already much work to do, she pulled her long brown hair up and secured it in a tight bun. She adjusted her uniform and wiggled her toes in her shoes, cracking them a few times. She knew she was in for a long day on her feet healing the wounded. The head nurse smiled at her weakly before leaving to check on some of her more severe patients. She looked tired, and the bags under her eyes made her forty-plus years look even longer. Before she left she extended her hand once more to Mabel, saying, "Thank you so much for your time. These men... most are in bad shape, and most have families awaiting their return. Let's be sure we get them back to their wives, sons, and daughters alive."

Mabel took a deep breath and straightened her hat emblazoned with a red cross across the top, making sure it was secure over her bun, and picked up her nursing bag. She carried it with her to the first tent in the row. There she saw four cots. On the first cot a man in a badly damaged uniform laid with his eyes shut, his leg protruding straight out at an odd angle. She walked over to the cot and looked at the man stretched out there with his eyes shut. She didn't see any other visible signs of battlefield wounds, so she walked up to him and placed her hand on his forehead. He wasn't feverish. The man's eyes fluttered open upon contact and he smiled weakly. He refocused his pupils and said, "I must have died in my sleep because surely there's an angel standing over me right now." Mabel flushed at his comment and only responded, "I'm Mabel. I'm the new volunteer nurse. Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"You mean, why am I lying in this bed like a coward and why am I not on the front lines with my brothers? It's my knee. It's no good anymore. I think it's gone."

Mabel smiled at him playfully and said, "Well, it's definitely not gone completely. You're still attached, which is good. I'm going to look at your knee."

The man on the stretcher winced when she touched his kneecap, which was significantly swollen. Mabel's best estimation was that he had dislocated the joint and there was damage that could not be healed without surgery to realign the kneecap. The best thing she could do would be to keep him as comfortable as possible and have him continue to stay off of the leg to avoid further damage. She pulled a needle out of her bag and filled it with pain medication. She administered it directly to the knee, and the man smiled, feeling a little relief almost instantly. "You're definitely going to need surgery. I know you're willing to go back out into the battlefield, but you're in no way ready. That leg won't bear weight. We just need to keep you comfortable for now until you can see a proper surgeon."

"Thank you, Miss. Now maybe I can rest a bit easier."

"Yes, that's the plan. I'll be back again on my rounds this evening."

Mabel turned to the next cot and saw an unconscious man who was periodically bleeding from a head wound. She didn't want to disturb him but determined that once he awoke, he would be okay, with only a mild concussion. She examined the other men then left the tent. She repeated that process several times and made it halfway through her charges when the dinner bell sounded. It was time for lunch for the officers. The rudimentary mess hall was set up on the back side of the sick tents, and the men all quickly made their way there, hoping to get some sort of nutrition before it ran out. Mabel made a mental note to ask the cook about the type of diet the men normally partook of. She realized it was wartime and supplies had to be rationed carefully, but she saw no sense in starving the men. If they didn't maintain proper nutrition, then the enemy was already halfway to victory.

Mabel picked up her tray and an officer behind her stepped forward, accidentally brushing against her. "Oh, my apologies, Miss. I didn't see you there. You're so tiny."

"It's quite alright, officer..."

"Cooper. Sgt. First Class."

"If I understand these things correctly, aren't you already supposed to have received your meal?"

"I don't pull rank. I eat with my squad. I figure that if they see I'm on the same level as them and just an ordinary fella, then they'll respect me more. It's working so far. Hey, you're the new nurse, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. My name's Mabel. I'm just here on a volunteer effort. I want to help support the cause."

"Well, you're definitely as pretty as Jacob made you out to be."

Mabel blushed and simply responded, "Thank you."

The line moved forward and Mabel received her meal.

It was a thick, stew-like substance, full of meat, potatoes, carrots, and thick gravy. While it was loaded with what she knew was a high fat and sugar content, she understood why the troops liked it. It was filling and thick on the stomach. She knew though that other things, like fresh vegetables and fruits, were necessary for a healthy system. She walked to a table far in the back of the mess hall where no one was sitting and proceeded to eat her meal. She thought about the good-looking Sargent who had commented on her looks and smiled.

She wondered who Jacob was. She hadn't made her way through all the tents yet, and most of the men she had seen so far were not in any shape to be talking.

She finished lunch and drank some water, then started on her rounds once more.

Mabel continued on throughout the tents and when she reached the last one, she noticed her feet had started hurting her. She also was gravely concerned about the men's lack of quality care. Many had simple injuries, surface bullet wounds that had gotten infected and were so badly so many were in danger of losing limbs. They were very preventable injuries with proper attention to the wound's care. She reached the last tent tired and frustrated, wishing she had joined the war effort sooner. It was there, only one cot was occupied. She was happy to find only the one patient there waiting. He was a man whose uniform was decorated with several different medals. He sat with his legs over the edge of the cot seemingly bored. He was studying a map that was of the general area and he held a pencil in his hand, he seemed to be plotting a course of some type.

Mabel entered the tent and cleared his throat to get his attention. “Ahem. Sorry if I interrupted you.”

“I don't see anything you interrupted. It's just me in here, talking to myself and the voices in my head about winning this forsaken war.”

“Oh.”

Mabel stepped over to him lightly. “I'm the new nurse. I'm here with the volunteer efforts.”

“Ah, well good. Just what we needed, more civilizations to protect along with our own.”

Mabel was shocked at his brashness and slightly taken aback, yet she undeterred by his attitude she proceeded to take her stethoscope out and listen to his heart and lungs. When she was finished taking the measurements she recorded them in her chart. “So tell me miss.. can you even fire a gun or are your delicate sensibilities upset by them?”

Mabel smiled and looked into his deep brown eyes. He was quite handsome and she was certain he was married, but saw no evidence of such. His brashness made her stomach turn with butterflies. “Actually. I could have shot you from the mess hall, had I the desire to. I'm quite adept with firearms and I am also quite versed with the particular distance limitations of certain types of rifle. So in short, I can take care of myself. Mabel by the way. There's no mister either, in case you're wondering, so you were correct. It's just Miss.”

Jacob's mouth gaped open at her boldness and then he smiled a broad grin. “Well it's good to meet you then, Mabel. I'm Jacob Taylor, I used to be in command of this unit before they deemed me sick. I caught a bullet that grazed the side of my head. I guess they're taking precautions, but I should be out there leading the way now that I've had proper time to strategize.”

“I'll be the judge of that. Let me see your head.”

She tilted his head to one side and looked at the bullet wound. It tore a clean opening across his scalp. He was fortunate as a few inches to the right and he definitely wouldn't have been alive to debate his own wellness. She took out a small penlight and shined it against the wound. She was pleased that there wasn't a huge deal of tearing. She then turned his head around and shined the light in his eyes, he followed the light easily and didn't seem to be terribly disoriented or confused. She was pleased with this prognosis. “Well... they certainly made the right call, putting you in sickbay. But with that said, I think you've made a remarkable recovery. I'm giving you two more days just to monitor that wound. So you better clean your rifles, now hotshot. You'll be back out there soon enough.”

Later on that night Mabel stretched out on her cot and elevated her swollen feet. She thought about the handsome young commander and the bravery and brashness flashing behind his brown eyes. She knew that he was deep and there must have been something driving him to win this war. She thought about how hard and muscled his body felt underneath his uniform and she recalled how charming his smile was. Mabel hadn't realized it, but she took in every detail of this complete stranger. With excited thoughts of seeing him the next day, her eyes drifted shut and despite the cannon fire and screams of combat in the distance, she slept peacefully with his image in her head.