Her Blue-Eyed Corporal (Soldiers 0f Swing Book 2)

by Linda Ellen

  “Want me to tell you about the tools of my trade?” the man offered.

  “Yeah, sure,” Gene responded as the others turned and drew near.

  The man began by showing them a strange looking map mounted on a round base marked off in degrees, with a string mechanism attached. “This is called an alidade, which is an instrument used to determine the azimuth to the smoke I may spot. Or in other words, the angular distance from the north or south point of the horizon to the point of the smoke. The fire’s location can be pinned down when triangulated with the other towers.”

  He picked up a funny looking device that had a grip handle and a long narrow part attached that appeared to hold two thermometers mounted side by side. “This is what you call a Sling Psychrometer, which is a wet-bulb and a dry-bulb thermometer, and has a wick on the end of the wet one. I sling this around,” he explained, demonstrating as he wet the wick by dipping it in a glass of water, then gripped the handle, and vigorously whirled the long part around. As it was whirling, he continued, “As the instrument is spun around, water evaporates from the wick on the wey-bulb thermometer and cools it to the lowest value. The drier the air, the more the thermometer cools. The difference in the two readings is used to determine atmospheric humidity and helps me calculate the danger of fire.”

  The four young people nodded in fascination as they watched him operate the instrument and make the calculations.

  “If I spot smoke, I try and determine if it’s something common, like a person grilling out, or if it’s dangerous. If I think it’s something that needs to be checked out, I triangulate the coordinates and then use this phone to report a possible fire. Now, this here phone is on a party line, and when I call out on it, all the phones on the line ring. There’s some people on the line who are habitual eavesdroppers, but in this case, it can be an advantage, because nobody wants a forest fire and they’ll squawk until something is done about it,” he chuckled.

  Mary June looked up at Steve as they all laughed. He met her eyes and winked, which sent an electric-like spark down her own phone line. A bit flustered, she quickly looked back at the old man as he continued.

  “Now, since the war started, the Civil Air Patrol has been used to help out. But since the planes can spot the fires, but they got no communication with the ground, what they do is drop written messages at the police station, after he has buzzed their office to get attention. And let me tell ya, an air-e-o-plane buzzin’ by a couple a’ yards above their roof surely gets their attention,” he added, slapping his knee with a guffaw, causing the young people to burst out laughing right along with him.

  Gene asked the man a few pertinent questions like what happened up there during storms or high winds, which the old gentleman answered with knowledgeable clarity. He reminisced about a few fires he had been able to nip in the bud before they caused any real damage.

  After a while, Mary June realized there were no “facilities” in the small tower. “Mr. Petro…where do you, um…” she began, and he chuckled, understanding her meaning.

  “Oh, I’m luckier than some tower men, Missy. I got me a two-seater, under a tree over yonder,” he pointed in the general direction.

  The girls looked at one another in shock as the guys laughed. Then Steve stepped closer to the cabinet table and reached out toward the large pair of military grade binoculars as he asked the old man, “You mind?”

  The older man replied with an acquiescing nod, “Help yourself, Son.”

  Steve took the item into his grip and walked to an open window to put it up to his eyes, turning the adjustments for each eye as he moved his head. “Wow,” he whispered after a minute of viewing. “It’s like being in an eagle’s nest up here. The world and its problems seem a million miles away…”

  “Oh, can I look?” Mary June asked as she came to his side, and he immediately turned and handed the optical instrument to her without making her wait her turn. When she took it into her hands, she gasped at its weight.

  “I didn’t realize it would be so heavy,” she mused, lifting it up to her eyes, but having to brace her elbows against her waist to hold it still.

  Steve immediately slipped around behind her. “Here, I’ll help you,” he said softly, and suddenly, his big hands over hers on the sides of the shiny black object made it feel as if it weighed nothing, he was holding it so securely. “Now, just turn where you want to.”

  Her heart rate sped up as her back came into contact with his warm, solid chest. A touch of the cologne he had splashed on that morning teased its way into her nose. As she breathed it in, along with a whiff of his warm, pleasant breath, she realized that the feeling of being in Heaven that she had felt when they danced their first dance together had come rushing back.

  It’s not the song, or the scent of him…it’s HIM. She swallowed, fighting nervousness as she tried valiantly to concentrate on what she was seeing through the high-powered lenses. Goosebumps emerged on every inch of her skin, although the breeze wafting through the open windows was comfortably warm.

  “Look way over there toward the right…see that tallest tree?” he spoke ever so gently near her ear. “There’s a eagle’s nest at the very top…see it?”

  She moved her head in a slight nod. “Mmm, hmm. Oh my…the eagle is sitting there…oh! He looked right at me…” she giggled softly.

  Through the haze of wonder, she obeyed the suggestions he made, turning this way and that and marveling at the results. Oh heavens, I could stay up here, in this tiny hut, in this man’s arms, forever, and never want another thing. She almost purred like a contented cat and had to fight the urge to allow her head to drop back onto his shoulder and burrow back against his body…

  “Oh, let me look!” Viv innocently requested, having no inkling that her best friend was enjoying a few moments of celestial euphoria.

  Instantly, Mary June’s delight came to a screeching halt. With a small sigh, she lowered the instrument and allowed Viv to take hold. Did she hear a matching sigh of disappointment from the warm uniformed male hovering directly behind her?

  “Oh, you’re right, they are heavy,” the other girl acceded. “Gene, can you help me?”

  “Sure, babe,” he agreed.

  Steve stepped away and Mary June suddenly felt cold, as if the temperature dropped twenty degrees. The excursion that had been so enjoyable now seemed to lose a good bit of its pleasure.

  The old black Ford rolled to a stop in front of Mary June’s house after dark. She climbed out of the back seat and leaned down to speak to the occupants.

  “Thanks again for inviting me along. I had a really good time,” she said sincerely, meeting first Viv’s eyes and then leaning a bit to the side so she could see Gene.

  “No problem. Glad you came. It was fun,” Gene replied with a friendly smile.

  Viv grasped her hand and grinned. “See you at work tomorrow, MaJu.”

  Mary June laughed at the silly nickname. “All right, ViPo,” she shot back teasingly, and both girls giggled.

  Then, the car pulled away from the curb and was gone in the night, its taillights glowing until Gene turned the corner.

  Mary June let out a soft puff of air, wrapped her hands around her arms, and strolled up the sidewalk to the front door, pondering the events of the day. She glanced at the house, noting only a lamp on in the living room. It wasn’t late enough for her parents to be in bed, but it was late enough. She hoped her mother wasn’t on the warpath.

  As she neared the porch, she noticed the red glow of a cigarette before she saw the outline of RJ, her older brother, Robert, Jr., lounging against one of the columns as he sat outside having a smoke.

  She sank down beside him on the top step. “Hey,” she greeted.

  “Hey yourself.”

  “You out here ’cause Mom’s on the warpath?”

  He stretched his legs out to get more comfortable. “Something like that.”

  She nodded, although she figured he probably couldn’t see her. It was something h
e and their father did to avoid trouble. Mrs. Harriman hated cigarette smoke.

  “The Goss’s tell Mom and Dad where I went?”

  He took a long drag off his cigarette, and then flicked it out into the cool grass of the yard.

  “Yep.”

  Mary June relaxed a bit at that and placed her pocketbook next to her on the porch. “Good.”

  “So…who is he?”

  Her brow furrowed. “He?”

  “Yeah. Miz Goss said Viv’s guy wanted you to go along to make four with his…brother?”

  She turned a bit toward him. “Yeah…his name is Steve Wheeler. Remember? I told you about how Viv’s boyfriend didn’t know he was one of identical triplets, and they all just met less than a month ago?” He acknowledged with a customary grunt. “Well, Steve’s one of them, and he’s stationed at the ammo plant in Charlestown.”

  He was silent for a few moments, and then, “He a good egg?”

  She hesitated as visions of Steve throughout the day floated through her mind’s eye…Steve clambering into the back of the car, looking sheepish and asking forgiveness…Steve lounging next to her on the quilt…Steve climbing the stair treads in front of her and coaxing her on…the feel of him behind her as he helped her with the binoculars…plus him carefully descending the top most risers when they started back down, throwing occasional looks over his shoulder at her. Then, the smoldering look in his eyes when they dropped him off at the gate to the plant, just before he had gifted her with a sweet kiss on the cheek and thanked her for being his date and being a good sport about climbing the tower…

  “Yeah, he’s a real good egg,” she murmured softly. She hadn’t realized her voice just then had held a dreamy quality.

  “You fallin’ for this guy or something?” RJ suddenly queried, turning a bit and resting an arm on one updrawn knee.

  “No! Why do you ask that?” she shot back in defense, although why she needed to defend against that, she wasn’t sure. It was probably the tone of his voice, as though he were accusing her of something.

  “I got ears,” he responded.

  She didn’t know what to say, so she sat silently. Ears? What did he hear? Then, he was speaking again.

  “I just don’t want my sister falling for just any ol’ Joe. You’re worth more than that, MJ,” he began softly, using the matching nickname he had given her when she was five and he was seven. “You’re good, and kind, and generous, and pretty. You’re a decent girl, and I don’t want some GI thinking he can have his pleasure for free just cause he’s got a uniform and a few stripes on his arm. You’re…my little sister. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he finished quietly.

  Those were the most words RJ had ever said to her at one time, and certainly he had never expressed his affection for her in such a way. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes to know her brother loved her that much. It made all of the razzing and teasing over the years melt away into a big puddle. Her brother really loved her!

  “Oh, RJ,” she squeaked, reaching toward him for a hug. He didn’t hesitate, but opened his arms and pulled her to him in a firm, brotherly embrace, tucking her head under his chin as he awkwardly rubbed her back. He held her against him for several moments, and then in typical brotherly fashion, he pulled back and mumbled, “Okay, okay, you’re gettin’ my shirt all wet.”

  “Oh you,” she let out a soggy giggle, wiping at her eyes with the back of one hand.

  He stretched again, and then climbed to his feet. “Guess we better get in there before it’s time for light’s out.” He helped her to her feet.

  Then, before they turned toward the door, he held on to her hand and uttered, “MJ…you ever need me…any time…any where…you call me and I’ll come running. You hear?”

  Tears came again. Tears of affection for her big brother, and Mary June sniffed them back, croaking out a whisper. “I hear. Thanks RJ. I love you.”

  “Yeah…same here,” he grunted with a tiny, bashful smile before ushering her to the door.

  As she walked inside and on to the hall toward her room, she couldn’t help but marvel – what a day this had been.

  CHAPTER 8

  Charlestown Ammunition Plant

  Monday morning

  Steve focused on his reflection in the mirror, shifting his mouth to one side and then the other as he shaved last night’s whiskers off his cheeks. For some reason, that made him think of the girl who lately had never been far from his mind…Mary June…her and Vivian talking about how they like men to have smooth, kissable faces. Ahh, Mary June. I like that name, it kind of rolls off my tongue…makes me pucker like I’m going for a kiss. It fits her, too. Mary…innocent, sweet, and soft, and June…bright, fresh, and hot, like the first day of summer.

  He angled his chin forward as he carefully shaved that area, picturing the stubborn tilt of her chin as she fussed and fumed, and even squealed, when he was just having some fun shaking the stair treads on the way up the tower. Boy, she sure got fired up. Whoo doggies, I thought she was gonna turn around and smack me, he silently chuckled. Yep, sweet and spicy, just like her name. One minute, she’s looking at me all doe-eyed, with that cute little smile…she’s got real pretty teeth…and the next minute she’s putting her hands on her hips and snapping back at me, he mused, remembering when he had told her that her dress looked like it had been made from a tablecloth, and she had fired right back that his Garrison cap looked like a deflated football. He softly shook his head. I only said that so she’d know I’d been lookin’. I liked her in that dress. It fit her like a glove. Mmm mm. Yeah, boy, I like the way she fires right back at me – she don’t skip a beat.

  Stretching his upper lip over his top teeth, he carefully scraped the razor under his nose and then across, silently cursing the fact that his hair was so dark that he had to shave everyday – heck, sometimes twice a day for special occasions. He’d had friends who were fair-haired and could get by with shaving every other day, but him? Neeeeewwwwww. He whispered an off-color word with a soft snort, and the thought entered his mind that at least he was helping keep the Burma-Shave Company in business.

  Finishing up, he took one last look at all of the angles of his face, wiped the shaving cream residue off with a towel, and thought about the day before when he had borrowed a buddy’s bottle of English Leather while getting ready for the picnic. Mary June had sweetly told him in the car on the way back to the plant that she liked his cologne. He had wondered if she might be hinting for a kiss, but at the last minute, he’d chickened out and only had the nerve for a peck on the cheek. But next time…look out, girl. I’m gonna lay one on you that’ll make those Victory Rolls unroll in a steamy swoon. He shook his head, admonishing, Easy boy. Easy.

  Padding back to his bunk amidst his fellow unit members who shared the large open barracks, he sat down on the mattress to slip into his shirt, socks, and shoes to prepare for the day. Ignoring the noisy camaraderie swirling around him, he focused on the ride back to the plant the evening before. Was it his imagination, or had she been sitting a little closer to him in the dark back seat of Gene’s car? I should’ve asked her out for next Friday night, but I got so caught up in something Geno was saying, I plain forgot, he fumed silently. But I’ll just give ol’ Gene a call and get her number. Or…I know where she lives. I might try asking the operator…get her number…give her a call…

  As he stood up and propped one foot onto the locker at the end of his bed to tie his shoelaces, he grinned in spite of himself. Dang, but I think I might have found my girl! But…I gotta find out if she’s feeling about me the way I’m starting to feel about her. She keeps me all jumbled up inside. One minute she’s all sweet and nice…and the next minute snappy. Maybe she don’t like my teasing… Don’t she know that’s just how I am? That it’s how I show I like somebody? His brow furrowed as a memory flashed in his mind of a little girl in braids, who many years before, had run to the teacher crying because he had taken hold of her pigtails and given them a yank. He hadn’t been tr
ying to hurt her, but maybe he hadn’t known his own strength. He’d just been trying to show her he liked her. She sure had gotten upset – and Holy Mackerel, the teacher had chewed him out good. He didn’t understand it – they should have known he was only teasing. Hmm…maybe Mary June needs a little head’s up, then.

  With a minimum of moves, he made quick work of tidying up his bunk with clean sheets and a blanket, pulling and tucking the covers so tightly, a quarter could bounce off the surface. Then, standing with a nod of satisfaction, he picked up his Garrison – correction, deflated football, he snickered – stuck it on his head, and reached for his jacket as a smile lit his face. It’s sure gonna be fun gettin’ to know that girl, he mused as he headed on out with the other guys to start the day.

  A few minutes later, with his mind still on the eventful weekend he had enjoyed, Steve walked along whistling as a jeep rattled to a stop with two soldiers he knew inside – Corporal Max Jones and his night duty partner Private Chuck Merlot.

  “Hey, what goes on?” Steve greeted with a friendly grin.

  “Just goin’ off duty,” Jones replied.

  “Yeah, another long, boring night,” Merlot added with a yawn.

  Steve leaned casually against the side of the vehicle and snickered. “Copy that. Perimeter reconnaissance. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it, I guess,” he teased with a wink.

  The three laughed together and relaxed, shooting the breeze for a few moments until the door of the administration building about twenty yards away opened. They turned their heads as one and watched.