The soldiers are marching again, with the heavy sound of drums quick to follow.
Everyone in the town who knows what is coming stays silent and tries to hide, praying that they won't stop here, in Woodson.
And it's every week now that they pick a new...
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They take us to a camp near a dying forest, about forty miles away from home.
Packed inside trucks like sardines, the journey is so hot and stuffy that it makes my head hurt. Groaning as I step out of the dingy military vehicle, my fingers are attached to rubbing my temples to soothe my rising headache.
"All right, ladies! Over here!"
A plump woman in a tan cloth dress and short brown hair yells at us women getting out of the truck.
The ten women who came here with me all walk over solemnly to her, and I go along with them only to stand at the back of the group.
"Okay," the woman states once she sees that we are all here. "Y'all are here as volunteer nurses for Nation, correct?"
There's no response from us, mostly because it's pretty obvious why we're all here, and that we are in no way happy about it.
Seeing our unenthusiastic reply, she sighs. "Look, I'm sorry you're here. But let's make the best of it, yeah?"
I see that she's trying with us, most likely because she understands. She seems like a kind woman given her eager, positive attitude. Giving her a slight nod amongst the other blank faces, she smiles back at me gratefully and tells us to follow her.
While walking, she says, "My name's Beatrice, by the way. I'm the head coordinator for all the doctors here at the base."
The women around me murmur just as Beatrice finishes her sentence, as we enter a tent full of commotion that smells like sanitizer and sweat.
I scan the room in amazement, not saying anything because I have no one in this group I know well enough to talk to.
White bedspreads and wounded soldiers are everywhere I look, and crammed into each crevice is either a person or cart of medical supplies surrounded by a hundred swarming women from different towns tending to things.
"Alright, wait here." Beatrice orders, stopping us in the middle of the tent.
Awkwardly standing there, me and the others wait for instructions while looking like lost puppies on a playground.
Together, we, the new recruits, gaze around the hospital, not sure of what our place will be here.
Will I be treating wounds, using stitching needles, or cleaning beds?
The thought doesn't bother me as much as it should, in fact, it's rather exciting.
What else am I made of, besides hands of strength and endurance on a farm back in Woodson?
