About the book
The War Nurse is a heart-rending story of two
Americans, a civilian nurse and doctor, caught in the Philippines when WWII
interrupts their newfound love. As the bombs fall, Katarina Stahl frees a
German doctor accused of spying. This impulsive act haunts her throughout the
war’s duration and, it even sets off a chain of tragic events for her
German-born parents in New York. Jack Gallagher surrenders to the Japanese at
Bataan, but his pregnant war bride, Katarina, begins a journey into depraved
darkness as Manila descends into chaos and occupation. Every choice she’s
forced to make to avoid interment and starvation causes Jack’s memory to fade.
By the war’s end, she’s earned the nickname given to her by the soldiers on
Bataan...but will Jack still love her?
Excerpt
Red Cross Surgical Outpost
The Philippines
December 7, 1941 International Date Line
The jungle’s heart quit beating.
Katarina Stahl froze on the
hacked-out jungle path, lantern swinging in her right hand, listening for a
sign of danger. Local Filipinos paid attention to the sudden hush of insect
song and feral animal noises. She experienced the same tunnel vision, cold
hands, and pounding pulse as when a patient stopped breathing. Her muscles
tensed awaiting a cry for help that never came.
“Where is Miss Stahl?” Doctor von
Wettin’s muffled shout came from behind her.
Katarina took a deep breath and
quickened her pace, hoping to avoid him. Two years ago, she’d left behind home,
family, and all her regrets to be a Red Cross nurse in Manila. In paradise, her
nightmares slowly became tranquil dreams. Then Jack Gallagher came back into
her life. Unwilling to let the past threaten her future again, she traded in
her newfound peace for the sweeter agonies of lying in his familiar arms. She
hoped he wasn’t a mistake.
“Wait,” Doctor von Wettin yelled, but
she ducked inside her tent.
Keeping the lamp dim, she changed
into a swishy blue dress and slipped into heels. A metallic glint from
underneath her discarded clothing caught her eye. Jack, you dope.
Smiling, she grabbed his gift to wear
for good luck. A sharp piece stung her finger and she dropped it. Oh, swell. She stared at the puncture
mark; no itching or swelling, just a bead of crimson. Licking the blood off,
she turned up the light and then leaned over to examine the primitive necklace
using a discarded sax reed.
“Miss Stahl,” von Wettin said in a
loud voice from outside the tent, “how dare you plot to kidnap my wife? I will
issue charges.”
Minka kept the letter? “Sir, a moment, please?”
Drat that man!
Two weeks in the jungle doing medical charity work, and he picked the last
night to stir conflict? She took a deep breath and concentrated on the odd
necklace.
The leather cord held a rock wrapped
in red silk, a shark’s tooth, and three metal medallions in shapes of a circle,
a triangle, and a square. Etchings and inscriptions covered the medals. Jack
wouldn’t have given her a native amulet that Filipino’s called anting-anting. Anting-anting was similar to the more familiar voodoo gris-gris from her New Orleans childhood.
Both required blood to sanctify their magic. Katarina knew such charms were
meant for the superstitious, but couldn’t help flinching as chills goosed her
neck.
Did someone mean to frighten her?
Well, hexed or not, she was going on stage to play jazz in public. Feeling
punchy, she put on the anting,
grabbed the sax, and confronted von Wettin. “You’re confused, doctor.”
He held up a lantern while his gaze
swept up her body. Flushed, he waved a fistful of letters in the air. “Nein. I have proof.”
“Can this wait? I’m due on stage.”
He smacked the letters against his
thigh. “No, cousin, it cannot.”
His careless words chilled her. “We
agreed to keep our connection quiet.”
“It no longer amuses me. Did Minka
ask you to smuggle her to Honolulu?”
Von Wettin would never be called
charming, but imposing would be accurate. Tall and barrel-chested, he wore
civilian clothes like a military uniform. His sharp blue eyes behind round
glasses lent him a piercing gaze and a commanding presence. Katarina knew his eyes
were colorblind to red hues, and to her, the flaw lessened his impact.
Applause from the amateur show
interrupted their silence.
Her skin prickled under his glare.
“Minka panicked. She expected you to be recalled to Germany. War and raising
babies don’t mix. Good thing she had a false alarm.”
“You blame my wife?” Anger stuttered
his words, and the letters brushed her cheek.
She stepped back and shoved his arm
away. “I tried to help my cousin.”
Minka von Wettin had let slip at a
bridge tournament that his stammer preceded violence. Katarina observed
clenched fists, gritted teeth, and stormy eyes. He wouldn’t have to strike her
to cause harm—no, he could ruin her happiness with whispered words.
“Your hand is icy.” He looked amused.
“You fear me?”
The larger envelope with official
stamps caught her attention. She squinted at the address. Katarina grabbed the
letter out of his hand and stared at the expensive stationery. The words
blurred as more chills swept up her spine.
The German Consul in Manila had addressed
it to her father in New York. Katarina’s vision blurred as she considered the
consequences of such a letter arriving at her parent’s modest home. Her younger
brothers’ sweet faces flitted through her mind, and her nervous tension
erupted. She kicked von Wettin in the kneecap.
He dropped the lantern and letters
before doubling over. Curses followed in German. “Why?” he shouted, glancing
up.
She rammed the sax bow into his
forehead, snapping his black glasses. He staggered backward against another tent
as blood seeped down his buttoned white shirt. Oh, no. Reacting without thought of consequences was a family
curse. Katarina gathered the other letters he dropped. “Never interfere with my
family! Thanks to you, my friendship with Minka is over.”
She fled to the alfresco stage
lights.
Jack Gallagher quit pacing when he
saw her and grinned. He wore black pants and a white cotton shirt open to the
chest. His dark hair had been slicked back, but a wayward lock fell like a
spike between shiny green eyes. Her insides warmed up. God, she loved this man.
“Those my love letters . . . what’s
wrong, baby?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ll play
sax, you sing.”
“Girls can’t play jazz. Not even in
N’awlins.”
“I can bust the notes same as you.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Trouble
follows when people break rules.”
“Who makes the rules? I want to do
what I love with the man I love.”
The onstage act concluded to
applause.
He stepped closer and pressed his
lips against her neck. Her breath caught and the spot felt red hot. He examined
the anting necklace. “Scared of
something?”
She kissed his lopsided chin dimple.
“Not with you around.”
“You’re on,” Jack said, and jumped
onto the stage. Two men joined him, and Jack informed them of the change. They
nodded. Excited, she tucked the letters under a chair leg.
Jack turned to face the crowd and
held up his arms. “Ladies and gents, give us a moment to warm up. Tonight we’re
playing some good ole boogie-woogie from N’awlins.”
The crowd hollered and clapped.
Heart stampeding, Katarina took the
stage. She tried to moisten the reed, but her spit had dried. Her first notes
came out flat—nerves. Ignoring catcalls, she looked past the crowd to feel the
vibe. Then she was in the tube, notes flowing out like rippled satin.
Jack’s head bobbed as he counted,
“One anda two anda three.”
Katarina took lead and blasted out
the first song.
Some people cheered, others stared
with mouths agape.
Confident now, she began to pour it
on, hitting the sweet notes. The drummer and trumpet player followed her lead
without missing a beat.
Jack shouted, “Yeah, baby.”
Her squabble with von Wettin faded
with every note. She was sick of him. Staff missed meals to avoid his chronic
boasts of being descended from royalty. Minka was a fantastic bridge partner,
but her friendship wasn’t worth enduring one more day of him. She rued the day
Minka uncovered their common relatives in Dresden, Germany.
They concluded the number to wild
applause. Jack shouted, “Wasn’t my girl grand?”
Nurses cheered her. Laughing,
Katarina blew a kiss to them.
Jack winked and finger snapped the
next count. He sang, “You lied to me,” and shot an ardent glance at
her—“kitten.” She saw her friend and fellow Red Cross nurse, Corazon Castillo,
burst out laughing.
Katarina poured her heart into the
music and wondered if women would ever play instruments in bands. After Jack
concluded the song, she and the trumpet player bowed.
When she looked up, instead of a
dazzling, starry sky, she saw an orange fireball flanked on both sides by
smaller flame trails dropping from the heavens. It headed straight for the
stage. As people cheered for more, she couldn’t react. The impending disaster
petrified her.
About the author
R.V. Doon is
a registered nurse with a wide variety of experience and certification in
emergency medicine, critical care, and clinical research. She’s been a bedside
nurse, nurse manager, and teacher. Her nursing experience has given her unique
insight into the human condition. While working she wrote novels and short
stories until one mystery was a finalist in a national contest. Now R.V. writes
across genres from medical and dark fantasy thrillers, to cozy mysteries and
historical family sagas.
She lives in
historic Mobile, Alabama on the beautiful Gulf Coast with her husband. R.V.
loves seafood, deep sea fishing, and she’s recently taken up sailing. She’s
also a caffeine and chocolate addict. If she’s not home writing, she can be
found reading in a comfortable book nook.
Welcome to the hot seat. So, if you're ready, let's get started:
1.
Can you tell us what prompted you to first start writing? What was the first
thing you wrote?
As a child, I
went through a period after surgery when I couldn’t talk. I learned then if I
didn’t write down exactly what I wanted or needed, I would have to do without
it when the adults left the room. At twelve, I wrote an ode to my horse,
Trampus. He liked it as I recall.
2.
Can you summarize your latest work in just a few words?
A civilian nurse
in war-torn Manila makes a tragic decision that haunts her, the man she loves,
and her German-born parents in New York. Basically, it’s a story about mistakes
and how they come back to haunt, especially during desperate times.
3.
What was the inspiration for this book?
Two things
stretched years apart. I went to get a surgical consent form signed by an
elderly patient, and he asked me how painful it would be afterward. I described
the normal recovery and his grandson said, “Pops can take it. He’s a Bataan
survivor. The pride and love I witnessed in their close relationship made me
study that period in history. He survived the surgery, but I never saw them again.
Second, we had
back to back hurricanes on the Gulf Coast and tons of downed trees, especially
in pecan orchards. That’s when I learned that German military POWs planted
acres of pecan trees in Alabama. The men carved their names on the trees. I
started reading a book on the POWs, and the author mentioned the civilian camp
locations for Japanese, German, and Italian aliens. So these unrelated ideas
rolled around in my head, and The War Nurse popped out.
4.
Did you do any research for the book?
Tons. The
inter-loan library program was fabulous. My public library found rare books in
universities that were long out of print. I devoured first hand survivor
accounts, studied the civilian internment camps in America and of course the
one in Manila. I read three different accounts written by Americans held in the
Santo Tomas Internment Camp in Manila. I read newspaper stories. Finally, there
are several great non-fiction books documenting the army nurses and doctors
experiences on Bataan. The women went into the internment camps and the men
became POWs.
5.
How do you decide on the names for your characters?
Strangely, this
is a hard question. I don’t name them until their faces jell, and this is
helped along by clipping pictures from magazines. They never look exactly like
the pictures, but once I know how the characters look and move the name comes
naturally. Katarina came first, but sadly most people pronounce her name as
Katrina. I change the secondary character names at will, but the main characters
I never change once I start. So far I’ve never used a name generator, but one
day I might give it a whirl.
6.
Which writers have influenced your own writing?
I know I’m
supposed to quote a list of well know and probably dead ones. Every writer I’ve ever read has influenced
me. They hooked me on story and made me an unabashed bookworm.
In all honesty, I
should mention the librarian in my small town. She influenced me more than the
authors I read. She used to ask me what I liked and disliked about the books,
and she would suggest new authors based on my answers. Once when I complained
about a book’s ending, she told me to remember what I didn’t like; so I
wouldn’t do the same when I became a writer.
7.
What are you working on next? Do you have a WIP?
My sister read
The War Nurse and challenged me to write a romance. According to her, she
thought I’d missed my calling. I’ve finished it and now I’m hunting beta
readers. I’m halfway through the second book in my dark fantasy thriller
series, and I’ve plotted my next cozy mystery. So, I’m busy.
8.
What has been the best part of the writing process…and the worst?
The best part for
me was stepping off the career track to follow a life-long dream. I admire the
people who jump in early before they get in established careers with mortgage
payments looming overhead. I wish I had.
The worst part
was realizing that after writing medical jargon and bullet notes for years, I’d
forgotten more than one grammar rule. Thank goodness for editors.
9.
Tell us about your childhood.
I’m proof
positive of the power of wishing. I wished for a horse so much that my parents
to this day still can’t explain what happened. Naturally, I told them I knew
how to do everything because I’d read it in books. Take a shy girl and give her
a horse...a whole new person emerges. I wouldn’t change those years for
anything in this world. My childhood was reading, riding, and swimming.
10.
What book(s) are you reading at the moment?
The Daughters of
Mars by Thomas Keneally
An Astronauts
Guide to Life on Earth by Chris Hadfield
Heart-Shaped Box
by Joe Hill
Come Back To Me
by Melissa Foster
Links
