On Distant Shores by Sarah Sundin

Author:Sarah Sundin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC027050, Letter writing—Fiction, Friendship—Fiction, World War (1939–1945)—Fiction
ISBN: 9781441242976
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2013-06-26T16:00:00+00:00

Hutch’s only hope sat on the desk of a florist. The letters of recommendation needed to be mailed by November 1. Two days from now.

He stepped inside the tent where Kaz kept his office. “Good evening, sir.”

Kaz typed away. “Do you need something, Sergeant? I’m busy.”

“I understand, sir. I was wondering if you’d had the opportunity to write the letter of recommendation for me. Monday is the deadline.”

“Letter of recommendation?”

That didn’t sound good. Hutch shifted his weight to his right leg. “Yes, sir. For the Pharmacy Corps.”

Kaz realigned the paper. “I’m busy, and anyway, I can’t in good conscience support such a scheme.”

“Scheme, sir?”

“Yes, scheme.” He smoothed his thin graying brown hair and frowned at Hutch. “You almost had me fooled, but Captain Chadwick enlightened me. Stripping away the rights of physicians indeed.”

“Stripping away . . . ? No, sir. That’s not what it’s about.” What rubbish had Chadwick fed to Kaz?

The officer attacked the typewriter keys. “The whole thing implies that hospitals aren’t doing their job. It’s an insult to the Medical Corps. They know what they’re doing.”

“Yes, sir. They know how to practice medicine, but not pharmacy.”

Kaz tilted his head and gave Hutch a thin-lipped smile. “I’ve seen what you do. Bruno and O’Shea do the same tasks with only three months’ training. It’s silly to slap a commission on something so trivial. It devalues the commissions we officers worked so hard for.”

Hot coals smoldered in his stomach. The commission Kaz worked so hard for? What? In his three months of training? Why did Kaz’s college degree—in business—mean more in a hospital than Hutch’s degree?

Kaz waved toward the doorway. “If you don’t have anything important to ask, you’re dismissed.”

Flaming, destructive words burned in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to open his mouth, even for the required “yes, sir.” He marched outside, his hand pressed over his steaming belly.

All the years he’d aimed for this goal, all the work he’d put in, all the disrespect he’d endured—wasted.

Jerks like Chadwick and Kazokov and Ted Richards wrecked everything he worked for, everything he longed for.

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