December 30, 1941

The evacuation of the hospital was almost completed. There was confusion, tension, anxiety, sadness, and mad rushing about as last-minute instructions were shouted throughout the hospital grounds. Army trucks filled with men and equipment moved rapidly out of the grounds. Most of the men in the trucks looked like young high school boys. I wondered what their fate would be. And ours! We civilian men, women, and children—left behind.

A voice whispered into my ear. “It’s your last chance to date me!”

It was Major Greene again with his libertine grin and nonsense. As we shook hands, he slipped a small object into my hand. With eyes misty with tears, I waved to him as the truck moved out, and that was the last time I saw him.

I looked at the small vial in my hand. It was filled with one and a half grains of sodium luminal. This time the tears blinded my eyes because of his regard for my safety. I prayed for him and for myself—that I would never have to use the drug.

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