While the Allies crossed under machine-gun fire eleven days earlier, Hutch rode in a jeep, turned in the front seat to face Lucia. Her litter was strapped across the backseat, while two more litters were strapped on the hood, a makeshift ambulance. The 93rd would be the first Allied hospital on the north bank of the Volturno. Under an overcast sky, the jeep rattled over the Bailey Bridge, an engineering marvel that could span a river in hours. A furrow raced up Lucia’s forehead, and she clutched her bambola even tighter. Bergie’s girlfriend, Lillian, had finally convinced the child to let her bathe the doll, and the nurses had fashioned a miniature hospital gown and bathrobe and braided its hair to match Lucia’s clean shiny locks. The nurses fussed over Lucia, but she only ever asked for her Signor Oo-chay. She couldn’t say the letter H and she tacked a vowel at the end of most words, so “Hutch” became “Oo-chay.”
