After landing at Orly field in Paris I was sent to billet with other flight nurses who were staying in the two big rooms of an old school house. It was an exceedingly cold 1944 winter in Europe and I found that the nurses, when not on duty, were staying in bed trying to keep warm. The only heat was from an open fireplace; all the chairs and desks had since been burned.
The pilot who had flown me to Paris had asked me to go into the city so he could show me the sights. One of the nurses loaned me a pair of long underwear. The added clothing helped but I shivered as I viewed the Champs Elysee, the Eiffel Tower and the beautiful fountains - non-functional as the water had been turned off earlier during the war. Paris streets were quiet, only a few army trucks, now and then a carriage pulled by a horse. A sidewalk artist sketched me and labeled his work "someone's darling." I had my first adventure with the unisex street latrines and begged my escort to stand outside the door on guard.
On the second day in Paris I caught a ride on a military transport back to my island base. As the Azores neared I began to get a bit worried about having overstayed my leave - a ten day leave which had stretched into almost three weeks. I immediately reported to my head nurse who angrily told me to report immediately to the commanding general. I first went back to my room, showered, changed clothes and then reported as ordered.
The office sergeant said the general was out but that I could see his assistant, a colonel. I was shown into a large room and saw a nice-looking gray-haired man with eagle insignias on his shoulders. "Just tell me in your own words why you overextended your leave, Lt.," he said in a kindly voice. I began my story in a quavery voice but, as I saw his eyebrows lift, a slight smile cross his face, my voice grew stronger as I gained more confidence.
When I had completed my story I just sat there and looked at him. "Well, I wish I could do with you what should be done, but I can't". I began to have butterflies in my stomach as I, with quavering small voice asked: "What is that, sir?" I had visions of being sent home in disgrace after a court martial, maybe a dishonorable discharge. "Well," he intoned, "anyone with your ingenuity and perseverance should be made a major. But I can't give you that promotion, so you'll have to settle for dinner with me tonight in my quarters. Is that all right with you?” “Oh, yes sir, thank you, sir; I'll be ready at 1900 hours.” “Good, I'll send a car for you then.” The meal was very good and the colonel attentive but I'll add that
I had to display quite a lot of ingenuity to avoid the colonel's more persistent advances. I did so, without facing a court martial for insubordination, but at times I was almost willing to take the court martial.
After spending nine months at Lagens Air Corps base in the Azores, we six original nurses were transferred - four to Bermuda and two to Newfoundland. Kay and I were separated but, now and then, we would meet in New York or Miami. Bermuda was beautiful. Houses were mostly cement in pale colors - blue, yellow, pink and even lavender. The weather was perfect in February. The duty was easy, flying wounded to Miami or New York about once a week, and lots of activities on the island: sailing, tennis, swimming, dining in fancy restaurants and clubs in town, plus a really nice officers club on the base with dances at least twice a week. Yes, it was rough war in Bermuda. I met a Lt. who worked in radio transmission by the name of Charles Pendergast and we soon made a twosome. He was a great dancer, good looking and a really nice guy. A Tom Collins was my favorite drink and the black civilian bartender, with the typical English accent of the locals, made the best.
On special occasions we would go to town, have steak and fresh strawberries at a fancy restaurant. I don't think I have ever eaten any strawberries as good as those. Charlie and I played some tennis and swam but mostly every night we danced. When I first got to Bermuda I got a terrible sunburn. I decided that if I was going to be out at all I’d have to develop a tan. So I began to spend five minutes daily in the sun, gradually building up the exposure so that at the end of the month I had a great tan. In fact, I was so tanned that I no longer had to have "painted stockings." We used to coat our legs with a pancake makeup because the stockings available were either heavy cotton or non-existent. Of course, if you didn't take a shower before going to bed your bed sheets took on a rosy color.
As Charlie and I got more serious about each other he wanted to know my intentions, how did I feel about Sarky. I still wrote to Sarky every day, but memories were slipping. I told Charlie that I wouldn't honestly know until I saw Sarky again.
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