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  Georgie’s face tingled. A disciplinary infraction would destroy his chances of getting into the Pharmacy Corps, wouldn’t it? “Oh, please, Lieutenant. You know what the Pharm—”

  Hutch cut her a short, hard gaze, silencing her. “This isn’t your battle, Lieutenant Taylor.”

  Yes, it was. If she’d let him push her away, Kazokov wouldn’t have seen them kiss. Time for some Southern charm. “Lieutenant, this is his first infraction, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Hutch groaned. “Lieutenant Taylor, don’t—”

  “Please, let me speak.” Georgie focused her charm on Kazokov, but guilt twanged on her heartstrings. In essence, she’d ordered Hutch to be silent. Any arguments he raised could be considered insubordination.

  She’d apologize later. Right now, she had to undo the damage she’d wrought. “Since it’s his first infraction—and his last, I’m certain—mercy is in order, don’t you think?”

  His small dark eyes glanced away. “The Army isn’t designed for mercy.”

  “Oh, but you are, sir. I see it in your eyes. You look like a kind and merciful gentleman. I know your wife would be pleased to see you turn your head—just this once—for the sake of young love.”

  His mouth shifted to one side. “I’m not married.”

  “You’re not?” Georgie widened her eyes. “What is wrong with the women in your hometown? If you came to Virginia, I could find you a wife in the blink of an eye.”

  He softened slightly. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind, if not completely true. For your sake only, I’ll let this slide. One time.”

  “Oh, thank you! I appreciate it so much.”

  “Yes, thank you, sir.” Hutch’s voice sounded strained.

  “Very well.” Kazokov strode to the tent entrance, held open the flap, and motioned to Georgie. He certainly wouldn’t allow a good-bye kiss.

  She fetched her raincoat and slipped it on. “Good-bye, Hutch.”

  “Good-bye, Lieutenant.” He turned away without meeting her eye, one hand pressed over his stomach.

  Georgie’s heart drifted low in her chest, but she managed a polite nod to Kazokov as she exited.

  “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said in a low voice. “Heed my advice and be more careful whom you associate with.”

  She ignored the boiling sensation in her head, tilted her chin, and smiled. “How kind of you to be concerned about my welfare.”

  Georgie pulled up her hood and headed into the rain. Such disrespect. Honestly. How could anyone treat her sweet Hutch that way?

  35

  Piana di Caiazzo

  December 5, 1943

  “Are you trying to kill my patients?” Capt. Al Chadwick slammed the medication bottle onto the counter. “What kind of operation are you running here?”

  Lieutenant Kazokov stood beside Chadwick, his face purplish red. “This better not have been a pharmacy error.”

  Although his pulse skyrocketed, Hutch kept his voice calm and addressed the physician. “Would you please tell me the problem, sir?”

  “The problem? You almost killed my patient.”

  Hutch inspected the amber glass bottle. The handwritten label said it contained elixir of codeine, 0.8 percent. Ralph’s handwriting. Dated December 4—Hutch’s day off. “Tell me about the patient.”

  “He’s in pain, you idiot. Why do you think he needs codeine?”

  A long, slow breath helped, but barely. “And he can’t swallow a pill and you—”

  “I wanted an elixir.” Chadwick leaned closer, right in Hutch’s face, except Hutch had a few blessed inches on the doctor. “And my patient almost died. Should have known better than to trust a druggist.”

  Kazokov tugged the hem of his field jacket. “You’d better have an explanation for this.”

  First Hutch had to figure out what happened, which required methodical thinking, not gut reactions. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed the med. Smelled fine. “What happened to the patient?”

  “He went into respiratory shock. Thank goodness I was working and saved his life.”

  “Yes, thank goodness.” Hutch dipped his pinky into the solution and tasted it. Too bitter.

  Ralph stood backed against the medication shelves, whiter than a bleached sheet hung to dry in the sun. “I didn’t want to fill it, Hutch.”

  He nodded. “May I see your calculations?”

  “Of course. I wrote everything down like you taught us.” He opened the box of prescriptions and flipped through. “It wasn’t in the manual, and I hate doing calculations, you know I do. I asked Captain Chadwick to wait until your shift, but he said no. Then I asked to go fetch you, even though it was your day off, and he said he needed it stat.”

  “If Captain Chadwick needed it stat,” Kaz said, “then he needed it immediately.”

  Hutch stiffened. Yes, that was what stat meant. But what was so urgent that he couldn’t wait an extra fifteen minutes? For a prescription that took Ralph fifteen to thirty minutes to fill? For an oral pain medication that took half an hour to work anyway? If the patient needed immediate pain relief, a shot of morphine would have been far more effective. Heat simmered in his chest.

  He joined Ralph at the back counter and looked over his work. “Okay, 0.8 percent means . . . ?”

  “Ah, I hate percents. I worked from the dose instead.”

  “That’s fine. He wanted half a grain per teaspoon.”

  “Yeah, and half a grain is 32 milligrams. And he wanted two ounces, which is 60 milliliters. And 32 times 60 is—”

  “Five times too much.” A sigh leached out with all his hopes that Pharmacy hadn’t made an error.

  “Five times . . .” Ralph’s green eyes flicked back and forth between Hutch’s eyes.

  He tapped the script. “It’s 32 milligrams per teaspoon, per five milliliters. You made it 32 milligrams per milliliter. Five times too potent.”

  Ralph cussed and ran his hand over his mouth.

  “Did you numbskulls figure it out?”

  Hutch tensed at Chadwick’s tone. As a professional, he had to admit the error. He returned to the front counter, a nasty taste in his mouth. “Yes, sir. We made a calculation error. The solution was five times stronger than it should have been. I am so sorry, sir.”

  “Sorry? You almost kill a man, and you’re sorry?”

  “I can’t believe this.” Kaz grabbed the bottle and stared at it, as if he knew one whit about what was inside.

  Chadwick raised his square chin. “You druggists want commissions for shoddy work like this? Disgusting. You ought to be shot.”

  “On the contrary, sir.” Hutch kept his voice even and steady. “This is the direct result of Medical Corps policy.”

  “Excuse me? You’re trying to blame us for your mistake?”

  Hutch slid the prescription over the counter toward Chadwick. “You said any intelligent boy who could read a label could practice pharmacy in the Army. Well, this is what happens when intelligent boys are handed a prescription they didn’t learn to fill in training. This is what happens when intelligent boys aren’t allowed to ask for help from a licensed pharmacist. This is what happens when intelligent boys are ordered by an officer and must obey despite their better judgment.”

  Chadwick’s gray eyes narrowed to steely daggers. “Are you questioning my orders, boy?”

  Best avoid that. Hutch smoothed out the prescription. “Your medication order is fine. If I—or any pharmacist—had worked that shift, this would have been properly compounded, even if a tech had filled it. I always check their calculations.”

  “You can’t shirk responsibility.” Chadwick rapped his fist on the counter. “You’re in charge. It’s your fault.”

  A smile threatened, but Hutch reined it in. He shifted his gaze to Kaz. “But I’m not in charge, sir. As Lieutenant Kazokov reminds me almost every day, he’s in charge, and I’m not.”

  Kaz’s chin jutted out. “Are you blaming me? That’s preposterous.”

 
; “I’m blaming the system, sir. Ralph was given a direct order to fill a prescription he wasn’t qualified to fill. This is the Army, and he isn’t allowed to refuse a direct order. If this pharmacy were set up properly, with a pharmacist in charge, with checks and balances—”

  “A windbag like your father. You almost killed a patient, and now you’re blaming a physician—and an officer—for your mistake. Currier will hear about this.” Chadwick stormed out of the tent.

  Yes, he would. But Colonel Currier was a reasonable and fair man, and Hutch welcomed the chance to explain the situation to him.

  Kazokov stomped around the counter and right up to Hutch. “I can’t believe what I heard. ‘Lieutenant Kazokov is in charge, and I’m not.’ ‘If this pharmacy were set up properly.’ Appalling. Blatant disrespect for your commanding officer.”

  “Sir, I didn’t—”

  “After all I’ve done for you. Writing a letter of recommendation, choosing to look the other way when I caught you necking with that nurse.”

  Hutch’s stomach clenched. He hardly called giving him a solid week of KP looking the other way.

  “That’s another week of KP for you. And for you too, O’Shea.” He shook a finger at Ralph. “You started this. And look at this place. A mess.”

  A mess? The mortar and pestle sat on the counter for the ointment Hutch had been preparing. The scales too. “Sir, we were in the middle—”

  “You were in the middle of making a mess as usual.” He picked up the scales and jammed them in their wooden box.

  Hutch cringed at the rough treatment of the delicate equipment.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? Scales go under S.” Kaz shoved the box onto the bottom shelf.

  Glass shattered. Fluid sprayed into the air, foamed, crackled.

  Kaz screamed, dropped to the ground, and grabbed his arm. Holes formed in the sleeve.

  What chemical was it? “Don’t touch it! You’ll burn your hand too. Ralph, get a doctor!”

  Ralph took off running.

  Hutch ignored Kaz’s screams, grabbed a rag and leaned down, avoiding the wet, sizzling patches on the ground. With the rag, he pulled the scales off the shelf so he could read the labels of the broken bottles. Sodium hydroxide. Sulfuric acid.

  A base and an acid. Either substance alone caused damage, but in combination, the reaction produced heat and worsened the chemical burns.

  He grabbed the liter bottle of water and knelt beside Kaz. “Hold still. Don’t touch it.” He poured water over Kaz’s arm and hand. Through holes in the olive drab fabric, the skin looked red and blistered.

  “If you’d cleaned up your mess,” he said through gritted teeth, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Hutch continued pouring water, but he pointed with his free hand to the shelf. “Remember? On the day you alphabetized the pharmacy, I told you sodium hydroxide and sulfuric acid didn’t belong side by side. I told you it was an accident waiting to happen. Today it happened.”

  Kaz sucked in his breath.

  Hutch turned his gaze to the man in pain. “But I’m very sorry it happened to you, sir. I know this must hurt like crazy.”

  He scrunched his eyes shut and nodded.

  Ralph rushed in with Captain Sobel and a couple of medics. Thank goodness it wasn’t Chadwick.

  The doctor asked questions, cut off the sleeve, and washed away more of the chemicals. Then the medics helped Kaz to his feet and assisted him out of the tent to the wards.

  Hutch turned his attention to what was now an actual mess. He wiped off the scale box, slightly pitted, but the scales themselves were all right.

  Had he been disrespectful to Kaz? Nonsense. What did Kaz know about disrespect? Hutch had lived with it for over three years. “Disrespect? The Army’s disrespect caused this disaster.”

  “Disaster?” Ralph picked up shards of glass with rag-wrapped hands. “Don’t you mean dis-kaz-ter?”

  Hutch let out a chuckle in spite of himself. “No matter what, I don’t want you to feel bad about any of this. You did your job fine. Maybe—maybe this will help Kaz see the truth.”

  “You ought to feel vindicated.”

  “Yep.” He’d write a long letter to his dad tonight, which would be valuable, since it proved every point they’d made for years.

  So why did frustration still churn inside?

  36

  Naples, Italy

  December 13, 1943

  Never before in her life had Georgie felt alone in a crowd.

  She stood on Naples’s waterfront overlooking the busy bay under a clear sky. Vesuvius loomed black to the east, not far enough away. At least in the daytime she couldn’t see the ominous red glow from the crater.

  All around her, people chatted and laughed. Mellie hung on the arm of her boyfriend, Tom MacGilliver—the first time they’d seen each other since September. Louise Cox had found lots to talk about with Lt. Rudy Scaglione from Tom’s Engineer Aviation Battalion. Kay flirted with—yet managed to keep her distance from—pilot Grant Klein, recovered from the crash that killed Clint and Rose. And Vera and Alice giggled at Captain Frank Maxwell’s joke.

  Vera’s mood had improved as soon as they boarded the plane taking them away from Kentucky. Taking Captain Maxwell away from his wife.

  What a horrible thing to think! Just because gorgeous Vera never dated, just because she simpered in the physician’s presence, just because Georgie didn’t like her—none of that justified her catty thought.

  The cool sea breeze lifted Georgie’s curls. She smoothed them and forced her mind to contemplate Christmas. The holiday was coming in less than two weeks, her first without Rose’s off-key carol singing. Somehow she had to overcome her grief and make the holiday special for the nurses and patients. And for Hutch too. Their first Christmas. She wanted to find him the perfect gift.

  “All right, folks. Let’s keep moving.” Captain Maxwell showed the way down the waterfront road.

  “Stay close, ladies.” Grant put his arm around Kay’s waist. “We men have our sidearms to keep you safe.”

  Kay laughed and wiggled free. “Until the pickpockets steal your pistols.”

  As they headed down the road, Georgie tucked herself between Tom-Mellie and Rudy-Louise. If only Hutch could be there.

  Mellie looked over her shoulder and beckoned Georgie. “I don’t want to abandon you.”

  She came alongside her friend. “Nonsense. You two deserve some time together.”

  Tom straightened his service cap over his sandy hair. “We have an entire evening of dining and dancing ahead, just the two of us. Now’s a good time to get to know Mellie’s friends.” He had an appealing smile and a friendly personality. For the son of a convicted murderer, he didn’t seem like such a bad fellow.

  “How are things at Foggia?” she asked.

  “Busy. Seems like new fighters and bombers come in every day. They need runways and facilities, which keeps us engineers busy. It’s worth it when I see those big birds head for Nazi targets in northern Italy and Austria.”

  “If only they could help us break the Winter Line. I’ve lost count how many times we’ve attacked San Pietro.” Mellie tucked thick black hair behind her ear.

  “It won’t be long. We’ll break through.”

  She leaned against her boyfriend. “One of the many things I love about you—your optimism.”

  He gazed at her in pure adoration, and Georgie felt completely out of place. Was this how Rose had felt with her and Ward all those years? Even worse, since poor Rose once had a crush on Ward.

  Georgie’s eyes prickled, and her throat swelled. To distract herself, she stopped and focused on the massive structure across the street.

  The Castel Nuovo looked less like a new castle and more like a medieval fort, with high walls to repel invaders and round crenellated towers at each corner to provide good vantage points for defenders—like Italy’s many steep hills favored German defensive fighting.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” T
om said.

  “Yes, it is.” Georgie mustered a smile and turned—but Tom and Mellie faced the waterfront, where throngs of men unloaded Liberty cargo ships.

  Mellie held back her hair. “Is it true this port gets more traffic than New York City?”

  “Sure is.” Tom pointed to the nearest dock. “The Germans did everything in their power to prevent it, confiscated every boat in Naples, then sank them to clog the harbor.”

  “That’s where engineers come in, isn’t it?” Mellie snuggled close.

  He grinned and led the way down the road. “Sure is. They had a big job. The Nazis blew up the sewers and aqueducts and electrical plants, yanked up railroad track, ignited the coal stocks, planted time bombs throughout the city. They know starving people riot. So we had to provide food and water and basic safety. We still have a long way to go.”

  Georgie passed street urchins clustered around a couple of GIs who passed out sticks of gum. The poor things looked like they hadn’t had a solid meal in weeks.

  Mellie motioned for Georgie to catch up with them. “Have you heard from your family yet? They were so kind to us.”

  Georgie clutched her shoulder bag across her stomach as she stepped around a trio of skinny teenage boys. “I received a big ol’ stack of letters last night. They must have written two, three times a week since I left. All of them.”

  “And . . . ?”

  She sighed. “They think Ward and I just had a misunderstanding. They say Ward didn’t mean to break up with me, only to change my mind. He’s beside himself, and Pearline has her sights set on him. They say I’d better act fast and win him back. Why can’t they see I don’t want him back?”

  “Have you told them about . . . ?” Mellie glanced around, lips tucked in. Only she and Kay knew about Hutch.

  “Not yet.”

  Tom gave her a soft smile. “Mellie told me. Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  They followed the group into a dark stairwell guarded by a white-helmeted MP, and voices echoed off the stone walls as they climbed. Hardly the place to discuss Hutch.

  The group emerged into the sunshine and headed into the wide open Piazza del Plebiscito, according to the chatter from Captain Maxwell and Vera and Alice farther ahead.