Back in her time by Patricia Corbett Bowman Page B

the big reunion but changed your minds and met up in Toronto. Pops picked me up and we all had dinner together at some fancy restaurant downtown. You all stared at me so much I thought you were all bonkers like Pops when you said things, like, ‘Does she know yet?’ I was too young to grasp what you were all talking about. You asked to see my birthmark, too. I thought you were a bunch of dirty ol’ men.”
    â€œWhat do you mean we said, ‘Does she know yet’? You mean he , Junior. You’re getting mixed up.”
    â€œRight — that’s what I meant. I’m just so happy to get all this out that I’m talking too fast.” They’re not ready to hear that I’m a girl, too. I can tell.
    â€œThat’s funny. ‘Dirty ol’ men.’ I can just see you, Red, with white hair. Hey, do we have any hair?” asked Whitey.
    â€œEnough about this,” said Mac, running his tongue over his lips. “Everybody gets old and loses some of their hair. I don’t want to hear about it. What’s this about a birthmark, Junior? I’ve seen you naked and never noticed one. Not that I was looking.”
    He’s seen me naked? Didn’t he notice I’m a girl? What the heck?
    â€œI have one on my chest in my time, but not here,” said Taylor, shrugging her shoulders.
    â€œIt’s good to know we are still friends up there in the future,” said Red.
    Taylor clapped Red on the back. “If I ever return there, I’ll look you guys up and we can talk all about it. Deal?” Taylor put her hand out palm down as if she were a football player waiting for the guys to give a team shout. Their hands covered hers.
    â€œHey,” said Taylor, “I want to take your pictures. We can look at them in the future. I’ve seen them, but I didn’t know who you were.”
    The guys acquiesced, taking turns standing together, arms around each other as Taylor snapped away. Tired after the revelations, Taylor thanked the guys for being understanding, found her tent, and crawled in, exhausted.
    * * *
    Outside of Ceccano, four gunners were digging a pit and struck a mine. One was badly injured and carted off. No one asked if he was going to make it. The noise from Ceccano was deafening. Taylor watched from her slit trench as tanks, mired in mud, exploded. Turrets flew off and became missiles. Planes overhead chased each other, firing, or, trailing bright streams of red, crashed nearby. A transport caravan trying to make cover got stuck in the middle of it. Shattered vehicles and bodies littered the road on Taylor’s side of the Liri River. The stench of death filled her nostrils. This sucks. I never want to smell this again . The few infantry who made it across the river by boat found “the business end of a bayonet” and didn’t return.
    Taylor was ordered to lead a group into the town after the bombing stopped and a Bailey bridge was successfully erected after another had failed. The air was thick with flies, mosquitoes, and dust as she chose eight men from the volunteers.
    Normally, the leader gives orders from behind, but not Taylor. She chose to physically lead the men into the now dark, quiet streets. They hadn’t gone far when the whole area was lit by flares hailing down on them by enemy Stukas.
    Taylor yelled, “Take cover!” She slid into the remains of a shed-like building as the Stukas dive-bombed again and again, strafing the area like hail, with incendiary and anti-personnel bombs.
    A voice yelled, “I’m hit!”
    More screams. Taylor crumpled against what was left of a stone wall. Her breathing was laboured. Putting her hand to her chest, it came away red. A red handprint? Taylor crawled out of her shelter after several minutes, when all was quiet. What was left of the building next to her was ablaze. She called out to her men as she surveyed the area, her voice sounding strange, strangled.
    The