How did I get here? All alone. Where is my company and my friends? Are they dead or wounded? 

I'm trying to clear my head from the constant bombing. I am a medic. 

I ran to the nearest hole made by the bombs. I covered my head and thought back to what happened.

I remembered I was treating a wounded soldier. Then the shell hit nearby and knocked me over. 

The captain grabbed me and said, "Get out of here, run to the forest. I will take care of his wounds. Do it now, soldier."

Here I am, alone, confused. The snow falls harder, burying my tracks. Day turns to night, and I dare not light a fire for warmth. The enemy could be right behind me, in front of me. It could be anywhere. I am freezing and starving. I must be strong, or I will die.

I see a small drop of blood fall onto my vest. I reached up and grabbed my head. My glove is full of blood.  

.....................................

I must have passed out.  I was dreaming back when I was just a little girl, throwing snowballs at my friends and family. I loved hitting my dad with a snowball. He would chase me down and splat a snowball on me. I remember how much I waited for those snow days. It was the best of times. 

......................................

Now, where am I? Covered with snow. Bleeding and lost. 

I dare not fall asleep. I may not wake from it. I will keep one eye open all night.

It keeps snowing, and now the snow covers my tarp and me. Thank goodness the shelling has stopped. Now, the silence is too loud. 

There is a glimmer of light in the distance. Is it daylight? Enemy spotlights?

Think, I keep telling myself. You are a nurse, a medic. You are a soldier. Maybe I am in shock from my wound. Clear your mind. Think damm it. 

I see the sun. It is daybreak. 

Now, I can uncover myself from all this god-forsaken snow—the snow I used to treasure.

I get out of my hole and see a fresh white blanket of snow covering the ground and the trees. Which way did I come from? I stopped and listened. Complete silence, not even a whisper of wind.

I must find my captain before nightfall. I ate the morsels of food I had with me. I needed some energy, and I had no sleep. I kept thinking that I always wanted to visit Brussels, Belgium, not Bastone. My grandfather was from Brussels.

When I looked up, the sky grew grayer. It must be another round of snow. I was shaking. Was it from the cold, or was I that frightened? 

The shelling begins again. I dived back into my hole. 

How much of this could I endure, I thought. Every time I crawled out of my hole and the bombs had stopped. Within minutes, they began again. 

...........................

It was almost night again, and there were no bombs. I will run off it to what I hoped was the direction I came from. The freezing air filled my lungs. I could hardly breathe as I ran. Suddenly, I fell into a hole and landed atop a soldier. He was severely wounded and unconscious. I lifted his arm to find out if he was one of ours and he was.

I got my medic kit and bandaged him as best I could. He had lost a lot of blood.

I gave him a sip of water and wiped off his face, and he opened one eye and said, "Where have you been all my life beautiful?"

I smiled at him and said, "Right now, I am here to help you.”

I tended to him, and when I thought I could leave him alone for a minute, I went and covered us with a tarp and branches from trees.

Night came, and I had forgotten how afraid I was. I knew he needed me, and I was his only hope of survival.

...................

The next morning, I heard something I had not heard in days. Silence. No bombs. It was a miracle the sky was clearing, and then I saw and listened to our planes flying above. I looked over my shoulder, and our troops were walking towards me.

I yelled out, "I need help. I have a wounded man here. Bring a stretcher."

They took Charlie to the aid station, and I went with him.  

I will never forget what they called the men who fought at Bastonge. “The Battered Bastards of Bastonge. They forgot about the women and what we called ourselves “The Battered Bitches of Bastonge.”

I think about this every year around Christmas time. I remember how I met Charlie and how we had loved each other for fifty years. I miss him now, just a few months after he passed, but I will never forget the first words out of his mouth. "Where have you been all my life beautiful?"

This is a small tribute to the brave women and men who serve in our military.