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Somewhere
Life During War (Part I)
A Day in the Life of the Steiners
The date is November 11, 1939, just over two months after the beginning of World War II.
Elsa Steiner wakes to a dark and silent room. She listens to her brother and sister’s soft breathing for a moment before she pushed herself out of bed, carefully tiptoeing across the cold wooden floor to the bedroom door. It squeaks open and she slips through the slight crack while pulling it gently shut. In the kitchen-dining-living room, she grabs a nicely-folded white uniform off the table, pulls a stale piece of bread out of the bread basket in the cabinet, and shuffles out the front door, remembering to skip over the door frame that crunched and squeaked under any slight pressure of weight.
The sky was still dark as night, but with a fate tinge of lighter purple against the deep navy blue horizon. The air was thick with cool moisture as she breathed in the familiar scent of her family’s farm before walking out the front gate and onto the dirt path. Every few steps she would take a small nibble out of her stale bread slice, aware that this measly breakfast would have to last her until lunch at the hospital.
She was on her way to the city of Munich, a long, winding walk from her little farmhouse, where her volunteer hospital nurse shift would begin at 5:30 am. sharp. Ever since the war began, Germany had been in a high need of “volunteers:” anyone who was physically able to help in any way possible. Actually, many citizens, including Elsa, were forced to volunteer, but Elsa really didn’t mind. Her brother and sister were old enough to take care of some of the farm chores by themselves and she was happy to do anything that would keep her mind occupied most of the day.
As she turned left down another gravel road planked by meager crops on either side, Elsa’s mind began to wander. She thought of her younger siblings back at home, who would be waking soon to start tending to their chickens and one cow, Adelaide. The day her father left for his work in the war was the last day they went to school. Elsa had been fortunate enough to finish some public schooling during the first world war, but not them. Verena, for fourteen, was quite headstrong and independent for her age. She had always taken pride in her schoolwork; but Garrin was the typical twelve year-old boy: always skipping school to play soccer with some neighborhood friends.
Elsa quickly shook her head, her dark blonde hair waving slightly in the wind behind her. Thinking about how much her sister and brother were missing out in a normal life made her violet eyes water. This war was stealing their childhood from them. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to live fatherless, too. It wasn’t fair that he had to fight another war. But, again, this made her uncomfortable and she thought of something slightly happier. He had survived the first war, why couldn’t he survive this one? This comforted her enough to push the fleeting thoughts to the side and finish off the rest of her breakfast.
The dawn morning was beginning to give way: a pink color had blended with the light purple in the sky and the dark navy blue was fading. With more light to guide her, Elsa habitually searches the ground, looking for not only the rare spare change that may have fallen from a passerby’s pockets, but for anything that could be seen as a gift. Since September and the start of her hospital work, she had tried to bring home small trinkets for her younger siblings to brighten their gloomier days. But she proved unsuccessful as she rounded a corner (now out of the farmlands) and up a hill, where the city of Munich awaited her.
A couple of street signs later, she arrived at the one-story hospital, where nurses, doctors, and soldiers were already busy hustling about. Quickly, she made her way to the farthest door toward the back of the room and slipped inside, reemerging a few minutes later with her long hair up in a perfect bun and in a clean, white nurse’s uniform. Her dirty, ragged blue dress was folded carefully in the nurse’s station and stored in a shelving unit. As she signed in (promptly at 5:30 am.), Elsa was given a clipboard with a number of soldiers’ names and information. With a quick “thank you,” she was swept up in the flood of patients, doctors, and nurses until she stopped at the infirmary.
The infirmary was not so much a kind of sickbay as it was a lounge. A few billiard tables and couches were scattered evenly around the room, leaving room for only a few beds for the men who wanted to rest their feet. Elsa’s main job was to check up on the recovering soldiers and report their progress in their records. Every so often, a nurse would ask for her help with a critical condition patient, but otherwise she stayed in the infirmary (thankfully), making small talk with the men. She liked that the most about her job: the conversation. She would listen to their stories (mostly about war, but other times about their families and other things, too) with great interest. The men enjoyed her presence immensely, not only for the fact that she was a natural beauty, but because she listened to them and wanted to get to know them, and that was refreshing. But, every now and then, one of the soldiers would gather the courage to ask the “beautiful violet-eyed” nurse out on a date, if they were feeling better. Politely, she would refuse their offer, but always thanked them for asking. She just wasn't interested in such things at the moment.
For the next thirteen hours this was Elsa’s job. This was the life she had to live since the beginning of World War II.
The date is November 11, 1939, just over two months after the beginning of World War II.
Elsa Steiner wakes to a dark and silent room. She listens to her brother and sister’s soft breathing for a moment before she pushed herself out of bed, carefully tiptoeing across the cold wooden floor to the bedroom door. It squeaks open and she slips through the slight crack while pulling it gently shut. In the kitchen-dining-living room, she grabs a nicely-folded white uniform off the table, pulls a stale piece of bread out of the bread basket in the cabinet, and shuffles out the front door, remembering to skip over the door frame that crunched and squeaked under any slight pressure of weight.
The sky was still dark as night, but with a fate tinge of lighter purple against the deep navy blue horizon. The air was thick with cool moisture as she breathed in the familiar scent of her family’s farm before walking out the front gate and onto the dirt path. Every few steps she would take a small nibble out of her stale bread slice, aware that this measly breakfast would have to last her until lunch at the hospital.
She was on her way to the city of Munich, a long, winding walk from her little farmhouse, where her volunteer hospital nurse shift would begin at 5:30 am. sharp. Ever since the war began, Germany had been in a high need of “volunteers:” anyone who was physically able to help in any way possible. Actually, many citizens, including Elsa, were forced to volunteer, but Elsa really didn’t mind. Her brother and sister were old enough to take care of some of the farm chores by themselves and she was happy to do anything that would keep her mind occupied most of the day.
As she turned left down another gravel road planked by meager crops on either side, Elsa’s mind began to wander. She thought of her younger siblings back at home, who would be waking soon to start tending to their chickens and one cow, Adelaide. The day her father left for his work in the war was the last day they went to school. Elsa had been fortunate enough to finish some public schooling during the first world war, but not them. Verena, for fourteen, was quite headstrong and independent for her age. She had always taken pride in her schoolwork; but Garrin was the typical twelve year-old boy: always skipping school to play soccer with some neighborhood friends.
Elsa quickly shook her head, her dark blonde hair waving slightly in the wind behind her. Thinking about how much her sister and brother were missing out in a normal life made her violet eyes water. This war was stealing their childhood from them. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to live fatherless, too. It wasn’t fair that he had to fight another war. But, again, this made her uncomfortable and she thought of something slightly happier. He had survived the first war, why couldn’t he survive this one? This comforted her enough to push the fleeting thoughts to the side and finish off the rest of her breakfast.
The dawn morning was beginning to give way: a pink color had blended with the light purple in the sky and the dark navy blue was fading. With more light to guide her, Elsa habitually searches the ground, looking for not only the rare spare change that may have fallen from a passerby’s pockets, but for anything that could be seen as a gift. Since September and the start of her hospital work, she had tried to bring home small trinkets for her younger siblings to brighten their gloomier days. But she proved unsuccessful as she rounded a corner (now out of the farmlands) and up a hill, where the city of Munich awaited her.
A couple of street signs later, she arrived at the one-story hospital, where nurses, doctors, and soldiers were already busy hustling about. Quickly, she made her way to the farthest door toward the back of the room and slipped inside, reemerging a few minutes later with her long hair up in a perfect bun and in a clean, white nurse’s uniform. Her dirty, ragged blue dress was folded carefully in the nurse’s station and stored in a shelving unit. As she signed in (promptly at 5:30 am.), Elsa was given a clipboard with a number of soldiers’ names and information. With a quick “thank you,” she was swept up in the flood of patients, doctors, and nurses until she stopped at the infirmary.
The infirmary was not so much a kind of sickbay as it was a lounge. A few billiard tables and couches were scattered evenly around the room, leaving room for only a few beds for the men who wanted to rest their feet. Elsa’s main job was to check up on the recovering soldiers and report their progress in their records. Every so often, a nurse would ask for her help with a critical condition patient, but otherwise she stayed in the infirmary (thankfully), making small talk with the men. She liked that the most about her job: the conversation. She would listen to their stories (mostly about war, but other times about their families and other things, too) with great interest. The men enjoyed her presence immensely, not only for the fact that she was a natural beauty, but because she listened to them and wanted to get to know them, and that was refreshing. But, every now and then, one of the soldiers would gather the courage to ask the “beautiful violet-eyed” nurse out on a date, if they were feeling better. Politely, she would refuse their offer, but always thanked them for asking. She just wasn't interested in such things at the moment.
For the next thirteen hours this was Elsa’s job. This was the life she had to live since the beginning of World War II.