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listening as another cramp tore through her.
    â€œThere he goes, trotting off to the bushes again.” Mac laughed at his own humour and was joined by Whitey.
    â€œPoor bastard. Gyppy tummy ain’t fun, eh?” said Red.
    â€œUsually only new recruits get that. Strange Junior has it now,” said Mac.
    â€œHeard those Highlanders have better grub than us. Must be his tummy’s not used to our hash,” said Red.
    The march through a deep, brownish muck, formerly a riverbed, only reminded Taylor of her condition. She soon fell farther behind. Whitey slowed down to keep an eye on her.
    They crossed a small creek by foot, using moss to clean some of the mud off their recently issued rubber boots. Taylor stared at the water. She had never seen red water before. As red as blood. Splashing through, she raced to the far side of the creek looking for a bush. Ah. Relief.
    â€œWe’ve got them on the run,” Sarge said when they rested later near a still-hot, burned-out German tank. “Communications sent fake messages that we were going to make an assault by sea, so the Jerries only left a small contingent here and sent their big guns to the coast.”
    â€œNow what, Sarge?” Red said over the newspaper as he glanced at the cartoons.
    â€œWe follow orders, that’s what. The lofty generals, like Crerar in Sicily, will decide our fate.”
    â€œI hear that Yank, General Eisenhower, is a good man,” said Mac.
    â€œIt was nice of the Americans to finally join us in forty-three,” said Whitey.
    â€œThe Allies are all working together.” Sarge tipped his canteen. “General Eisenhower is a fine leader.”
    Red pored over the paper again and started chuckling.
    Taylor collapsed on the ground, missing the rock she was aiming to sit on.
    Sarge glanced at Taylor. “Could be dysentery. That’s pretty serious.” Speaking to the group around him, Sarge said, “Next transport that rides by, try to hitch a ride for Junior to the nearest field hospital.”
    Taylor protested. “But, I can’t leave you, Pops. I mean, Sarge.”
    â€œHear that, men? Junior doesn’t want to part with us. Honourable, Junior, but you just need a shot of sulphaguanidine or two and you’ll catch up with us.”
    â€œI heard rice water and tea with sugar helps, too.” Mac said.
    â€œBut, Sarge …” I can’t leave you, Pops! I have to stick with you until I figure out how to tell you who I am .
    â€œNo buts, soldier. That’s final.” Sarge stood and the others followed suit. Whitey helped Taylor up, and the men continued their march.
    A beep from behind startled Taylor. Whitey grabbed Taylor’s arm, pulling her out of the way. Mac waved both arms at the slow-moving open jeep and ran along beside it, yelling, “We got a sick man, here. Needs some meds. Can you drop him at the next field hospital?”
    The two men, one a corporal, the other a lieutenant, agreed reluctantly after a quick debate, and Taylor was hoisted up into the back seat. Her friends were soon left behind and became small dots as the jeep passed the infantry line. Gawd, will I ever see Pops and the other guys again? Friggin’ diarrhea. Why’d I have to get this now?

Chapter Nine

    The building where the jeep dropped Taylor off had large chunks of plaster missing from the siding and a weathered, red-tiled roof that looked like it leaked. It did. If it hadn’t been for the homemade Red Cross sign over the doorway, Taylor would have thought the driver was just dumping her to get rid of her and her gaseous problem. When she opened the door, she smelled air thick with disinfectant. It was the right place.
    Women in white uniforms and starchy hats with black bands, looking more like postulants than nurses, were everywhere, moving furniture around, making beds, carrying trays of medicines, and directing soldiers where to put a stretcher with wounded.