their heavy duffels and sprinted to what looked like a cattle
car and jumped inside. Carly strained to hear her number called. She’d memorized her dog tags and fingered them now as if
reading them in Braille. The DI called her number next. Hoisting the weighty duffel onto her shoulder, she charged the few
feet and jumped up inside the vehicle. She sat down beside a petite blond recruit who reminded Carly of Dolly Parton. “Dolly”
gave her a quick nervous grin in the low light.
One by one, the other recruits crowded inside. Soon everyone was sitting thigh to thigh, and still more squeezed in. Carly
began feeling claustrophobic and breathing became a struggle. She hugged her duffel to her and tried to ignore the press of
hot bodies all around her. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe in and out, slowly and evenly.
Of all things, she despised feeling out of control, of being overwhelmed by something. It brought back the panic left over
from her childhood, from those two days when she’d been taken from home and mother. Carly fought the tide of breathless fear.
What have I gotten myself into?
Kitty’s voice played in her mind, telling her how homesick she’d been in 1915 when she left Maryland to go to Columbia University.
Aunt Kitty had told Carly this to prepare her for her first time away from home, but Carly doubted that Columbia University
was anything like boot camp. Still, Carly made her mind picture Kitty, Chloe, and Bette, the images of those strong women
helping her to resist giving way into the claustrophobia.
Finally, they were packed three-deep and Carly turned her head sideways and stuck her nose up against one of the holes in
the side of the cattle car. The vehicle lurched to a start and Carly was bumped about by the movement of the vehicle and crushed
by the swaying of the bodies inside. She clung to the metal behind her and tried to think of other things, other places. Anything
but the bodies pressing against her, smothering her.
At last, the vehicle lurched to a stop, throwing them against each other and back and forth. Angry German shepherds barked
and lunged against the sides of the cattle car. The DIs began shouting unintelligible threats and orders. The tailgate was
thrown open and the first few of the fifty in Carly’s platoon literally fell from the vehicle. Black-shirted military police
restrained the dogs that surged toward the recruits who were scrambling up off the ground. Following orders, the new soldiers
left their duffels behind and started grouping into the tight formation they’d all been taught.
When it was finally her turn, Carly leaped from the back. As she hit the ground, a ferocious German shepherd with teeth bared
leaped at her face, barking as if it were going to tear out her throat. Its hot breath and spit made her jerk her head back
and she bumped into the recruit who’d leaped out after her. It was “Dolly” who caught her by her shoulders and steadied her
so she didn’t stumble. The DI screeched at them. Carly rushed forward and took her place in the tight formation.
On and off for two days, Carly felt her heart pounding like a war drum. She felt weak, as if she were a thin rubber band that
had been stretched too far too often about to snap. Again and again, tears lurked just behind her eyes as she stared straight
da>, blocking out the noise and the queasy feeling in her stomach.
As of that night, it was no longer a question: had she made a mistake by enlisting? It was now a certainty. She had made a
very bad decision.
I’m stuck. For four years, no less. I got what I wanted. And now I don’t want it
.
Suddenly the yelling ended and Carly snapped back to the scene. The dogs were sniffing the duffels. When one paused by any
of the duffels, the MP dumped everything out and let the dog sniff it again. Carly couldn’t believe that they actually thought
someone was trying to bring drugs onto the base.
car and jumped inside. Carly strained to hear her number called. She’d memorized her dog tags and fingered them now as if
reading them in Braille. The DI called her number next. Hoisting the weighty duffel onto her shoulder, she charged the few
feet and jumped up inside the vehicle. She sat down beside a petite blond recruit who reminded Carly of Dolly Parton. “Dolly”
gave her a quick nervous grin in the low light.
One by one, the other recruits crowded inside. Soon everyone was sitting thigh to thigh, and still more squeezed in. Carly
began feeling claustrophobic and breathing became a struggle. She hugged her duffel to her and tried to ignore the press of
hot bodies all around her. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe in and out, slowly and evenly.
Of all things, she despised feeling out of control, of being overwhelmed by something. It brought back the panic left over
from her childhood, from those two days when she’d been taken from home and mother. Carly fought the tide of breathless fear.
What have I gotten myself into?
Kitty’s voice played in her mind, telling her how homesick she’d been in 1915 when she left Maryland to go to Columbia University.
Aunt Kitty had told Carly this to prepare her for her first time away from home, but Carly doubted that Columbia University
was anything like boot camp. Still, Carly made her mind picture Kitty, Chloe, and Bette, the images of those strong women
helping her to resist giving way into the claustrophobia.
Finally, they were packed three-deep and Carly turned her head sideways and stuck her nose up against one of the holes in
the side of the cattle car. The vehicle lurched to a start and Carly was bumped about by the movement of the vehicle and crushed
by the swaying of the bodies inside. She clung to the metal behind her and tried to think of other things, other places. Anything
but the bodies pressing against her, smothering her.
At last, the vehicle lurched to a stop, throwing them against each other and back and forth. Angry German shepherds barked
and lunged against the sides of the cattle car. The DIs began shouting unintelligible threats and orders. The tailgate was
thrown open and the first few of the fifty in Carly’s platoon literally fell from the vehicle. Black-shirted military police
restrained the dogs that surged toward the recruits who were scrambling up off the ground. Following orders, the new soldiers
left their duffels behind and started grouping into the tight formation they’d all been taught.
When it was finally her turn, Carly leaped from the back. As she hit the ground, a ferocious German shepherd with teeth bared
leaped at her face, barking as if it were going to tear out her throat. Its hot breath and spit made her jerk her head back
and she bumped into the recruit who’d leaped out after her. It was “Dolly” who caught her by her shoulders and steadied her
so she didn’t stumble. The DI screeched at them. Carly rushed forward and took her place in the tight formation.
On and off for two days, Carly felt her heart pounding like a war drum. She felt weak, as if she were a thin rubber band that
had been stretched too far too often about to snap. Again and again, tears lurked just behind her eyes as she stared straight
da>, blocking out the noise and the queasy feeling in her stomach.
As of that night, it was no longer a question: had she made a mistake by enlisting? It was now a certainty. She had made a
very bad decision.
I’m stuck. For four years, no less. I got what I wanted. And now I don’t want it
.
Suddenly the yelling ended and Carly snapped back to the scene. The dogs were sniffing the duffels. When one paused by any
of the duffels, the MP dumped everything out and let the dog sniff it again. Carly couldn’t believe that they actually thought
someone was trying to bring drugs onto the base.
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