With Love, Wherever You Are

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  “I love you too!” Waving wildly, she jogged alongside the train. Other spectators moved out of her way—it was that or get run over. “Listen! When you get back, you’ll have a telegram waiting. Tear it up, Frankie! I didn’t mean—”

  “A telegram?” Frank grinned. “Something about how I shouldn’t come for a visit?”

  Helen stopped short, then ran faster to catch up. “You got my telegram?”

  “Sure. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

  Helen laughed, that tinkling laugh he thought he could call up wherever the war took him. She shouted something, but the words were drowned by the clank of the tracks as the train chugged through the yards and picked up steam.

  Frank grasped the side bar and leaned out, waving until he couldn’t see her anymore.

  Inside, the passenger car was already smoke-filled, not a good thing for his asthma. He knew he shouldn’t complain since he didn’t have a ticket or a legitimate pass. Miller, the staff sergeant for the newly formed 11th General Dispensary, turned out to be an okay joe, in spite of his sadistic nature during obstacle training. When he learned this would be Frank’s last chance to win over Helen, he’d cut false papers, declaring an “emergency assignment” for one Frank Daley. The papers wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but so far there hadn’t been any scrutiny at all.

  Miller hadn’t been the only one to come through. Andy volunteered to answer for Frank in roll call, an offense that would have gotten them both in trouble if discovered. Lartz was covering for him at the hospital.

  But man, had it been worth the effort! Helen Eberhart was going to become Helen Daley. He was the luckiest man on the planet.

  Twenty-four hours later, when Frank sneaked back into Camp Ellis, he expected to be greeted by attack dogs or a firing squad. Instead, someone was singing “Sweet Adeline.”

  “Andy!” Frank caught up with him.

  “Glad you’re back, sport! I’m tired of being you . . . and me. How did it go with the lovely Helen of Troy?”

  “She’s going to marry me.”

  Anderson sobered fast. “Congratulations, old boy! This calls for a drink!”

  “Not now, Andy.” He hustled Anderson to their barracks as taps sounded over the speaker. They didn’t always play taps, and Frank wasn’t sure why, although Lartz claimed there weren’t enough buglers to go around. They ducked into their barracks as the last note faded.

  Lartz was reading in bed with a flashlight. “Frank! How did it go?”

  “We’re getting married, Lartz!” Anderson shouted before Frank could.

  Quickly, Frank said, “Helen and I!”

  “Yeah?” Robbie, a medic assigned to the 11th General until they found a battalion for him to return to, gave a thumbs-up. “Congratulations! I married my sweetheart right before I got shipped out. Keeps me going, I tell you.”

  “Yeah, right,” somebody said.

  “Hey, I’ve seen pictures of Helen,” Sergeant Miller said. Frank could make out the sergeant’s unshaven face by the red glow of his cigarette. “Lieutenant Daley deserves hearty congratulations.”

  “So when’s the big day?” Lartz asked. “Where are you having the wedding?”

  Frank shrugged. He hadn’t even thought of that.

  Little by little, the whole barracks woke to the news. Frank was glad he didn’t have to hold it in any longer. He wanted to shout from the rooftops. He climbed to his bunk and stood as much as possible without banging his head. “I’m getting married to the most wonderful gal in the world!”

  Laughter rippled across the room in tiny waves. “Better marry her fast,” Robbie said. “We’re shipping out soon.”

  The room grew quiet for a second, but Lartz ended it by shouting, “Three cheers for Helen and Frank!”

  The cheers were so loud that Frank suspected the entire camp heard them. An MP was probably on the way. He soaked it all in, wishing Helen could hear them too. These guys made up his outfit now, the 11th General Dispensary. He felt something for them—not just camaraderie, like he’d had with college chums or fellow slaves in residency. He felt protective, like he wanted to keep every one of them safe, no matter what he had to do. For the first time in his life, Frank felt like a soldier.

  How ironic that on the very night he realized he was going to be a husband, he also realized he was going to be a soldier—not just a doctor, but a soldier, too. He only hoped he had what it would take to be all of the above.

  10 July 1944

  Battle Creek, MI

  My dearest Frankie,

  I am the happiest girl on earth because you want me. And because I want you, too. I can hardly believe that I’ve found the man of my dreams, and that we’re going to be married. I know exactly the style of wedding dress I want and the bridesmaids I’ll pick, along with my sisters, of course. Will Cissna Park seem so very far for your parents to come for a wedding? We were both so much in shock (you nearly in leg irons!) that we didn’t talk about that big question: when.

  To tell you the truth—something I vow always to do with you, even if it means admitting a thing like that I can’t swim—last night I woke up in a cold sweat. My first thought was, “Gott im Himmel, what did I do?” But then I closed my eyes and pictured my handsome husband, and I smiled myself to sleep. I shall burst if I don’t tell someone my news. I must tell Peggy why I’m the happiest she’s ever seen me.

  Later:

  Frankie darling, BIG NEWS: We are shipping out, going overseas soon. That’s the rumor. You remember Victoria, who flirted shamelessly with you? Tall and thin, long coal-black hair? Peggy claims she’d make a better Mata Hari than a nurse. Victoria says she heard there’s a big push in Europe to end this war, and they need nurses NOW. She thinks we might skip Camp Ellis and head straight to Europe. How I wish I hadn’t requested Europe, and all because I didn’t want to be hot.

  What are we going to do? Peggy says not to pay attention to anything Victoria says because that gal is too stuck on herself to know what’s going on with the rest of the world. On the other hand, Victoria is skilled in the art of flirting with high-up officers.

  Peggy and I have talked and talked, and I think if you and I don’t marry very soon, it will be too late. I will be gone. Cissna Park will take too long. I’m out of July days, but I could fight Captain Walker for two August days and marry you in Chicago!

  Love,

  Helen, soon to be H. E. D., Helen Eberhart Daley. Helen Daley. Mrs. Frank Daley. All very good!

  Camp Ellis

  My dearest Helen,

  I wrote you on the train, but I was standing up and hadn’t slept in two days, so even I couldn’t make out my handwriting. I shall make a fine doctor one day, with this penmanship.

  I wish you could have heard the heartfelt congratulations of the 11th General. Even Andy celebrated our happy news, though he had been out celebrating already.

  Let’s set a date—soon! Nobody knows when our unit will ship out. I’d marry you tonight if we could pull it off. I don’t want you to give up your dream wedding, though. As for me, all I need is you.

  Sun is coming up. Must run. Literally—18-mile hike starting now!

  Love always,

  Your Frankie

  P.S. I’ll call my parents to give them the good news.

  From: Sina Mae Daley

  Hamilton, Missouri

  Dear Frank,

  I have had ample time to reflect upon our phone conversation, and I remain more convinced than ever that you are heading into a folly filled with lingering regret. As William Congreve put it, “Marry in haste, repent in leisure.” Please know, however, that Daddy’s and my disapproval is in no way the explanation for our refusal to attend your wedding ceremony (such as it is). He cannot be spared from the Army’s training base, and I have my own commitments with the Red Cross.

  Yesterday I had occasion to work side-by-side with your former liaison, Jean Gurley, at the Red Cross blood donation in town. She asked that I send you her kind regards, though I doubt she
would have extended such courtesy had she known your present intentions.

  As I can see that your mind is closed on the matter of matrimony, there remains little for me to say in this epistle.

  Yours truly,

  Mother

  From: Mrs. Louis Eberhart

  Cissna Park, Illinois

  Dear Helen,

  Are you out of your mind?

  Marriage? To a stranger your mother has never seen? And this from my sensible child? From Vin or Eugene, I might expect, or at least understand, such a thing, but not from my down-to-earth Helen.

  Gott im Himmel, preserve us!

  Your mother

  EN ROUTE TO CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  Helen gazed out the window as branches smacked the windshield, while wisps of clouds swallowed the pale moon, then let it go again. “Thanks for driving me to the station at this ungodly hour, Dr. Reynolds.”

  “You know you’re making a big mistake, don’t you, Helen?”

  “So you’ve said many times.” Helen knew Dr. Reynolds flattered and flirted with half the nurses at Percy Jones, but he’d tried extra hard with her, probably because she’d refused his advances. If there had been anyone else to drive her, she never would have let him do it. His motives were blatantly ulterior, but what choice did she have? Bill had planned to drive her but got called away by Captain Walker at the last minute.

  “War marriages never last.” Dr. Reynolds turned his boyish grin on her. “Seriously, Helen, sneaking off in the night to marry someone you barely know?”

  “You sound like my mother.” Helen didn’t want to think about the last letter from Ma. This wasn’t the way either of them had envisioned her wedding day.

  “A wise woman, your mother.”

  “She usually is. But she doesn’t know Frank.” Helen had already received letters from three of her brothers warning her to change her mind before it was too late. Only Eugene offered congratulations. And even his letter was so short and distant that it made her sadder than all of her other brothers’ letters put together.

  “It’s not too late to admit you made a mistake, you know,” Dr. Reynolds said. “I can turn this car around and—”

  “Don’t you dare!” But the thought was there. What if they did turn around? The rumors had died down about getting shipped overseas without training at Camp Ellis. She and Frank didn’t have to rush like this, did they? Part of her couldn’t believe she was going through with marrying a man she’d known only a few weeks, only to be sent to opposite ends of the earth until the war ended.

  One lone light illuminated the train depot. Helen hadn’t expected so many people gathered on the platform. Dr. Reynolds got her duffel bag from the backseat. “You’re breaking a lot of hearts, Nurse Eberhart, mine foremost.”

  “Something tells me you’ll get over it before the sun rises, Doctor.” She walked with him to the train. Next to them, a soldier and his gal were lost in a tearful embrace. Helen shook Reynolds’s hand. “Thanks again for the lift.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be sitting in the car in case you change your mind.”

  “You’re incorrigible!”

  “And don’t you forget it.” He pointed to his sedan. “Right here until the train pulls out. Plenty of time to come to your senses.”

  Helen joined the last few passengers crowding onto the train. She found a seat at the back, by a window. She just hoped she wouldn’t get anything on her uniform before walking down the aisle in it. No wedding dress. Balancing her duffel on her knees, she unzipped the side pocket and pulled out a sack tied with twine, a wedding gift from “her boys.” Danny, Hudy, and Jimmy had made her promise not to open it until she got to Chicago. But she’d never been good about waiting to open gifts. Besides, she was on her way to Chicago.

  Inside the bag were four small packages, each wrapped in twisted white toilet paper that one of the boys must have stolen from the officers’ club, though she couldn’t imagine how. A homemade card said CONGRATULATIONS on the front. Inside, it read: This is from all three of us and my mom, who helped us get what we needed. Ma says you can’t have a wedding without something old, new, borrowed, and blue. Wish we could be there. Love to our favorite nurse (and our favorite doctor, who better be mighty good to you), Jimmy, Hudy, and Danny.

  She unwound the tissue from the first gift. It was a mirror with a note stuck to the back, written in the same hand as the card—the only hand among the three that could still write, Danny’s: This OLD mirror went to the Pacific with me and back without getting a crack. Guess that means I get 7 years without a lick of bad luck, huh? I give them to you. Hudy.

  Helen put down the mirror and opened the next gift, a beautiful braided-leather necklace. The note said, I made this before I knew you, Nurse, back when I had fingers and could braid leather goods for merchants back home. It’s brand NEW and never been worn. Jimmy.

  She had to swallow the lump congealing in her throat. A note was stuck to the next gift, a delicately laced handkerchief: This one is BORROWED on account of my ma says she’ll skin me alive if she don’t get it back. We all felt bad that you don’t have a fine wedding dress, but here’s something my ma carried when she got hitched. Ma says she’d be real proud if you carried it down the aisle. Danny and Ma.

  One gift left, and one note: BLUE almost did us in! Everything in this hospital is white. You have Danny’s Aunt Millie to thank for this gift. Wait till you see what she sent her legless nephew for his birthday.

  Helen opened the package and found a pair of blue non-Army-issued wool socks that Danny couldn’t have worn even if he still had feet. She laughed until her laughter changed into crying. Her own brothers may not have wished her well, but her boys did. She fought the tears, but it was a losing battle. What would happen to the boys once she went overseas? What would happen to all of her amputees? She felt guilty for her happiness when she thought about what lay ahead for those soldiers.

  Oh, Gott im Himmel, how can I leave these boys? Helen prayed.

  Through the train’s smudged window, she spotted Dr. Reynolds’s car, with the good doctor behind the wheel, waiting as promised.

  Helen felt her heart skip—not the dime novel–romance heart skip, but the atrial fibrillation she’d inherited from her mother. In fourteen hours, she’d be Mrs. Frank Daley. Nothing to worry about . . . unless her mother was right and she really was out of her mind.

  EN ROUTE TO CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  Lartz floored the jeep they’d “borrowed” to get to the station. “Do you have the ring?”

  “Now you ask me?” Frank patted his pockets until he felt the tiny box. “I wish it were bigger. Do you think she’ll like it, Lartz?”

  “Now you ask me?”

  Humor—just what Frank needed. He relaxed a little, as much as a guy could on the most important day of his life.

  “Hard to believe next time I see you, you’ll be an old married man,” Lartz mused.

  An old married man. For a second, Frank shuddered. If he’d thought of marriage at all, he’d pictured it way down the line, after he’d sown a few more wild oats.

  “So what’s in the bags?” Lartz nodded toward the backseat, where Frank had a duffel bag, a backpack, and a shopping bag. “Nobody in the Army has that much gear.”

  “Presents.”

  “From your family?”

  Frank shook his head. He’d written Jack but hadn’t heard back from him. His brother was probably deep into Germany, unreachable. Dotty’s letter, though, exploded with congratulations and joy and how great it was being married. If she could be so happy married to a guy she hadn’t seen in two years, surely he and Helen could make a go of it. “The gifts are from me. Except for the Little Red Riding Hood cookie jar you guys gave us. I wanted Helen to see it.” He’d never enjoyed shopping until he shopped for Helen. Good thing Helen’s brother Walt insisted on paying for their honeymoon, along with making the wedding arrangements.

  “Sure wish I could have gotten a leave to go to your wedding.�
�

  “Me too. Then I’d know somebody there besides Helen. Her brother’s my best man, and I haven’t even met the guy. At least the service will be short and sweet. We could only get the chapel, and there are about fifty weddings scheduled today.”

  “Be glad it’s not a Jewish wedding.”

  “I’ll bite. Why should I be glad it’s not a Jewish wedding?”

  “Because there’s no such thing as a short Jewish wedding.”

  Frank lucked out and found a seat on the train, although his bags weren’t so lucky. He ended up holding them, stacked on his lap like wedding cake tiers.

  Wedding cake! Was the groom supposed to provide the cake? How many other details had he missed?

  By the time the train pulled into Chicago’s Central Station, Frank was starving. It was a good thing he didn’t have the wedding cake because he would have shown up with nothing but crumbs. He counted his money and decided he had enough for half a sandwich, which he downed in two seconds. Then he settled onto one of the benches facing the northbound tracks. If all went according to plan, Helen would be there in two hours, and they’d be married in three.

  The Chicago heat was making him sweat through his uniform, the only wedding suit he had. Every so often, he left his bags to check the boards.

  Finally, the board posted track 8 for the train from Battle Creek, on time. In one hour he and Helen would be promising to be husband and wife for the rest of their lives. He thought about her first reaction to his harebrained proposal. “Are you out of your mind?”

  Maybe. A fellow had to be out of his mind to think someone like Helen Eberhart would want to spend the rest of her life with him. He wondered if she ever thought she was out of her mind for accepting his proposal. Would she regret it someday?

  Today?

  The last thing Andy had said to him was “I hope that gal of yours doesn’t wise up. Nothing worse than a guy who gets jilted at the altar, unless it’s a guy who gets jilted in the train station and never makes it to the altar.”