Spam Tomorrow

When I asked the local chemist for lint and disinfectant, he felt it was only fair to allow the first-aid post to claim me. . . . Half a dozen V.A.D.s made a rush at me and treated my small abrasion as though my whole head had been blown off.

From an impromptu wedding in the early days of World War II, to a bout with German measles in a hospital reminiscent of a medieval torture chamber, to becoming the first casualty for over-eager V.A.D.s, Verily Anderson's war gets off to a bumpy start. A...