“She was an optimist. ‘You can do anything,’ she would tell us kids. ‘You can be anything you want to be.’ She was perfectly happy to be a wife and a mother. However, when she planned her obituary about 20 years ago, she noted that she was Past President of the American Legion Auxiliary Post #76, a real estate broker, and a housewife.
“The mother of eight, grandmother of 16 and great grandmother of 23.
“And she loved us all.”
The church was silent but for an elderly lady seated with her friend. “Is this the same Virginia you and I knew?”
The funeral proceeded to the Landry family cemetery with prayers and lowering the casket into the ground beside VF’s grave.
Vicki walked over to Iris. “So that was enlightening.”
“The eulogy?” Iris asked.
“Uh huh. Sweetened. Lots of sugar.”
“Oh, come on, Vicki. You can’t tell people the bad stuff at a funeral. When I said that she was a tough lady and didn’t spare the rod, did you see Joe’s face? He was so afraid I’d say more.”
“Where did you find all that BS to talk about?”
“It was true. It’s just that it was 10% of her mean, cruel life. The positive 10%. The 10% that her Palette Club saw. Anyway, Mary told me she had a last confession with Father O’Keefe. So, who am I to judge?” Iris asked.
“Purgatory. That’s where she is.”
“Oh, really? Purgatory? For how long, God?”
“Only God knows.”
Iris laughed at the remark. She had forgiven her mother. Clearly Vicki had not.
There was more work to be done.
Chapter Twelve:
Hold Back the Dawn
2007
Mary knew exactly what was needed—a top to bottom cleaning of the fortress as everyone called it. The great house on the ranch outside of Austin, which now belonged to her, along with 100 acres. She called the estate movers, the organizers, and the Viet Nam Veteran’s Services and began putting furniture, clothes, personal artifacts, and artwork in various piles in four separate rooms: GIVE AWAY TO CHARITY, SELL, HOLD FOR FAMILY, and THROW AWAY. After four days with three professional organizers working with her, she made her way to the basement.
The Army Air Corps trunk caught her eye. She didn’t remember ever seeing it. It seemed to glow. The name Lt. Vincent Frank Krejci was engraved on a silver plaque on the lid. She unbuckled the straps and pushed it open. Among photographs and jewelry-like mementos were letters tied with satin ribbons and lovingly categorized from 1938 to 1969. From her dad to her mom, from Grandfather Williams to Mom, from Mom’s sisters to Mom, and from special friends to Mom. Underneath all was VF’s leather bomber jacket.
She chose a silver embossed “Lowry Field” letter and read:
Lowry Field
Saturday
Denver, Colorado
Oct 19, 1941 2:30 pm
My Darling Baby Doll:
Enclosed you have $5. Sorry I couldn’t get it sooner. As I once told you, you don’t need fear or feel awkward about asking me for money—but be sure you 1. Use it wisely and 2. You don’t pull such stunts as the last one—paying on that note for your expensive watch. We just can’t stick our necks out too far.
Going on duty at the hospital will place you in a position to meet all sorts of people—some no doubt young men in the hospital who will hound you for dates after they recover. Well, I don’t worry about that. By now, if you don’t know your job and “career” you never will.
Here is something I want you to get straight. Listen closely.
It seems to me that you have been talking to people or someone who knows a little about Lowry Field. Get this—Lowry Field is U.S. Army Air Forces Restricted Area. No one in civilian life knows a thing about Lowry. Army men know little. Those who go thru Lowry don’t talk. They can’t! Lowry (now this may be censored before you get it!) Lowry Field is the only Air Corps School of its kind in America. Perhaps the world. Since June 1941 when the Air Corps became a distinct unit apart from the regular army, it became the U.S. Army Air Forces in 3 parts—men are taken out of flying and placed into special training like here for very highly specialized training. Right now I am not flying. I am undergoing very rigid specialized training for the purpose of supervising our fighting air forces when I become an officer. Right down my line!
Flying is only 1 of 3 parts of the U.S. Army Air Forces. I am telling you dope that civilians do not ordinarily know.
As for my specific work—please don’t ask me—I can’t talk—we study and work like blazes all week. Then study over the weekend. If we leave post like Sunday we don’t talk. Some cadets get tight and do and they go out. This is very vital and restricted stuff we are in. Our country is on the verge of war and we can’t take chances. Can you understand? If you were my wife and here I might be able to say more. When I see you I can say more about our future. Keep quiet about Lowry and don’t ask people about it because they don’t know. If they pretend to they are liars.
The UT Thanksgiving game—I would like to send you money and say “ask Faye and Grace to take you.” Virginia, please don’t expect me to go that far—I must think of Christmas and of getting home. Why, we will see the best games to come. I haven’t seen one this year and don’t expect to.
As to home—Let’s just forget it. I will try to straighten out things when I get down. I will have to dig into things myself. Really all is OK on the surface.
I must send this now so you get it Sunday.
Keep up your good marks and Benedictions, etc. My 97% daily average last week came thru prayer.
You are my wife-to-be. Never forget that and that your true love is
Vincent
I’ll send pictures later and will try to send you some stationery.
She was mesmerized! Look at that beautiful handwriting! The curve of the letters just oozes longing and desire. The words were so lawyerly and yet so lustful. She spent all afternoon reading story after story of VF’s desires, dreams, work in munitions, bombs, chemical warfare, his friends and enemies, the struggle with the “Yanks vs. the boys from the South,” in his barracks, his dutiful fulfillment of his Catholic faith, his descriptions of the sunrise and sunset in the Rocky Mountains, his health, his exploit with a flying buddy who fell asleep at the controls, and most of all his ambition to marry Virginia and raise a family and someday have a beautiful ranch.
He described his flying:
The east is only momentary; we turn west. That is where that unforgettable beauty of nature’s wonderland sleeps under a carpet of fresh snow. Way up, up towards Echo Lake nestled in the pit of a pre-historic crater. All around the snow is multicolored. From the tip of Mt. Evans (14,245 ft.) where it is a deep orange red to the shores of Lake Echo where it is a pale rose it is awe inspiring. Nature’s catastrophe descends and suddenly, into a blinding snow storm we plow. The flakes are huge fluffy balls, full of tiny crystal balls. Gosh it is cold. That was only momentary, a sweep to the right and we are back heading for that glowing East. I don’t remember who said it, it does not matter, one of the cadets, but the words were “Hold Back that Dawn” and I know that every soul within hearing felt way down deep every sentimental inch of it.
Some letters were touching, ending in “Baby, I miss you tremendously” and telling Virginia how much he treasured the times they spent together. Others expressed his concerns about receiving a paycheck or getting proper clothing from the Air Corps. Often he encouraged her to stick to nursing school, pray, and “be a proper Lady” (with the capital L).
Baby Doll, I am proud of you. You know I was in a tight situation when we paid for your registration, but now you have done well. An A at UT is something—you are an ex-UT, or rather UT ex. When we go to the Big Roundups, we can both sign among Ex Students—See!
Pictures and Ring covered in previous letter. But again I see they go
over Big. Willcox got a snap of his Waco girl in bathing suit today. Mine won out in comparison. Both the framed one and one at Barton Springs.
Guard House is where the officer of the day stays on duty 24 hrs per day. There cadets sign in and out mail comes there and is put into alphabetic boxes two times a day. Laundry has been coming there and going out. No, it is not a jail. We all go there to get mail, etc.
The $45. Well, it will be tough and will keep me from two things:
going to LA as all the fellows do pay day open post. I don’t need it;
seeing you between shifts in Sept. This I want and need. But we will manage to get the money some way. You just make up your mind that you are going in to do good and don’t let on that we are going to marry Christmas or shortly thereafter. I am for married life as never before. Just your head on my shoulder and kiss your back and hair.
You have made up your mind in proper directions—keep on the point like I have to keep the nose of #7 on a point every day. I get mad, uncertain, and flat at times, then I almost cuss a streak, grit my teeth and take over the controls. Every day—1,000, 2,0000, 3,000—above these mountains; dive, spin, etc.
You are the center of my life and my all. I could not admire and love anyone more than you. Yes, darling you are the answer to a life long prayer, dream and ambition for an ideal mate. Our test of love will be the finest thing in the world because we have God for us. We will live head and shoulders above the average. We are keeping it up and we will continue for life and a day. There is a place for all my salary and if any left over it goes into my Dream Ranch.
“You surely did make a changed woman out of me.” That statement deserves expansion and specific explanation. Taken in general: Virginia, remember this, you too deserve credit for the part you took, the effort you put out and the sound judgment you exercised in deciding between the finer, the better, the real and brave—the Lady—head and shoulders above the mire of common people—and the determination to face life, i.e., becoming a Catholic—that you did. Without your cooperation though lacking at times, I could never have done it! I could have never finished law school!
When you go on duty, remember this—you are going through and doing things young ladies before you have done for ages. Yes, young ladies with a whole lot less to them than there is to you. Yes, and pray to Blessed Virgin Mary. Remember, you can do not only as well but better than the next person—be better than the average, your roommate, your class. That is something we will have to demonstrate to our children.
He worried about his best friend, Fred, who had grown up with him, gone to college with him, and who was then stationed in the Pacific:
I have no idea where Fred is. Either Atlantic or Pacific. Perhaps on one of the newly captured Islands in the Atlantic that the public press has not been permitted to publish. Pearl Harbor where he was initially stationed really was shelled by the Japs. Those Japs will pay for every fragment let down a hundred fold.
VF was such a patriot! He expressed his duty to his country so beautifully, and he loved his uniform, called the pinks.
I put on the pinks and blouse and the Eagle (garrison hat) for the first time in my life. It was a complete uniform as Lieutenant in the US Air Forces—all except the Bars. I drove two fellow cadets downtown, one for his date, stopping by the cathedral I expect us to be married in. I went up front inside to spend a while with my maker. Giving thanks for His innumerable blessings, I asked Him that that uniform never see dishonor, disloyalty, or shame, that it be worn for the greatness of our nation and the greater glory of God. Asking Him for guidance I prayed that he unite us and for our future happiness and good fortune.
One letter made Mary blush. In it, VF reminded Virginia of the time they had a spat when he “pinched [her] boobie.” Imagining her mother and father in such a playful, sexual encounter was both touching and hilarious.
Remember about a year ago Friday we went walking to the State Cemetery—you brought meat (Friday—a no no) and Bur Oak acorns (for nuts)? That lady wanted us to leave—we made her so mad! We had a word because I pinched your boobie on the porch at 1710. Then I came back after studies (10:30) and we were such nice lovers in the Texas moonlight.
You know Darling, Saturday nite and everynite I realize how much I miss you. The feel of your fingertips on my face, holding you in my arms, kissing you. It seems so near I can taste it, yet so far away.
I think a thousand times of you each day. I recall every detail of last Fall. It seems to register minutely from day to day. Your waiting for me in the Model A by the Capitol or leaving a note—morning, noon, evening nights together. We never did tire of each other. A spat here and there because I wanted (1) to see you become a real Lady and (2) to make absolutely sure that we belonged. I tried your patience often, I know, but for the better.
He seemed very intent on converting Virginia to an officer’s wife. The mention of becoming a Lady over and over again, Mary wondered, why did he think she wasn’t already a lady? She was from an upper class family and yes, they had fallen on hard times when her father left her mother and moved to Ohio with his secretary. But she had poise and polish. At least it seemed so in the photos Virginia kept.
Some of the letters told of going to movies during that tumultuous time, and his evaluation of those big screen blockbusters.
Last nite I saw my third show “Remember that Day” with Claudette Colbert and John Wayne. Truly a great work. Half the audience broke down and cried when the two had to part, then never came back. I could not see the second run. But I want to see it again.
“Waterloo Bridge” and “Remember the Day” are two great pictures—so real this very day.
I don’t care for movies anymore unless really a good show is playing. Too, I want to write you. Before reporting, I saw “Meet Mr. John Doe”--pretty good, much like “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town.”
She saw a rust-colored envelope marked “TELEGRAM” with the following message:
HOLIDAY GREETING BY WESTERN UNION: TELEGRAM 1941
DEC 15 DENVER COLO
MISS VIRGINIA WILLIAMS
CARE SETON SCHOOL OF NURSING AUSTIN
FROM SNOW BOUND DENVER TO TELL YOU CHRISTMAS IS INCOMPLETE APART. DARLING, A MERRY CHRISTMAS. PROMISE WE WILL MARRY SOON. VINCENT
Mary’s attention turned to the little jewelry mementos. She held the silver wings that had adorned her father’s uniform sixty-three years ago. Then she picked up an oval miniature photo of VF in uniform attached to a straight pin—a sweetheart pin. She wondered if her mother wore this while VF was away chasing Nazis. She opened a velvet box and there was a silver charm with a Longhorn icon at the top, two wrestlers in a circle, and the words #1 Texas Intramural. On the back was engraved V.F. Krejci ’37. She clutched it tenderly, then immediately added it to her key ring.
And then, the bomber jacket. It had been saved all these years and was the softest leather imaginable. Mary couldn’t help but caress it. Where had it been? What adventures had it known? It had flown miles above the earth, and seen failure abroad. It had the characteristic Juicy Fruit aroma she remembered from her father. She searched its pockets—sure enough, an ossified pack of Juicy Fruit gum was in one of the pockets. She then found a clean, white (although faded) handkerchief in another, and a silver dollar in another. That must have been his lucky piece. She smiled, feeling her eyes well up with tears, and thinking about her father’s loyalty—whether it was to a brand of chewing gum (his most successful stock had been in Wrigley), his country, his friends, his religion, or his family.
Those letters told a story of frantic lovers, of wartime angst, of two people planning for their future. They gave Mary a window into her parents’ values and hidden secrets.
Most interesting, though, is that they seemed destined to be found. Why would her mother have saved them? Was she holding them hostage for an impending divorce suit because they would prove his love for her and s
he imagined that she would be able to exact revenge in assets? Did she read them when she felt lonely and unlovable after VF’s death? Did she think that someone would find them long after her demise and see how these lovers cared so deeply for each other?
Finally, Mary carefully examined the bottom of the trunk, and ran her fingers across the felt cover. There was a subtle bump. She found a corner, tugged, and the material loosened. Underneath was an unusual letter postmarked Seattle, on gold embossed University of Washington letterhead. She gingerly opened it and read:
April 15, 1941
In Memoriam to “Gina,”
I received your card the other day.
Am sorry that I have not written sooner to offer congratulations on your engagement. I remember your telling me about your fiancé last Spring when we were back in Ohio. I believe you said he was quite a serious chap with a feeling of great social responsibility. More power to him.
I have bid fond farewell to the “Gina” I used to know. I could hardly believe that such a charming, pleasure loving, carefree character who lived for today and didn’t give a damned for the morrow, was gone. But then I thought—who am I to say that the age of miracles has passed?
I just had one disturbing thought. I wonder if she is sure that this character change is a permanent thing. The world will suffer a loss because the man who marries “Gina” will have his hands so full and his personal responsibilities will be so great that he will not have time for any social responsibilities. Oh, well, the world’s too far gone to be saved anyhow.
I guess I haven’t written since we moved into an apartment. Three of us fellows have a honey of an apartment with the latest modernistic furnishings. Please note the change of address.
You said something about going back to Ohio. Did you mean to visit or to go to Ohio State? Is your dad still in Columbus?
Don’t be as negligent about writing as I was. Please don’t take offense at anything I have written. I was only kidding. Hope to hear from you soon.
Rich White Trash Page 18
