Rose of Anzio - Jalousie (Volume 2): A WWII Epic Love Story

by Alexa Kang

  Her apparent conviction must have swayed Carlson. The corner of Carlson's lip turned up ever so slightly and revealed she was pleased. Tessa felt a bit guilty. The chief nurse probably thought her conviction was a testament to her commitment to serving and helping injured soldiers, but she couldn't tell Carlson her true motivation was to be with Anthony.

  "Very well, then. Your request is granted," Carlson said. "You may start and join the classes already in progress and train with the student nurses preparing for overseas assignments. You can go to the registrar's office today and submit all the proper paperwork."

  "Thank you," Tessa said, glad that another hurdle was over.

  "I'll remind you, though," Carlson warned her, "you're already three months behind everyone else. The classes and work will not be easy. This program is not for the faint-hearted."

  "I understand, Lieutenant."

  "All right. You're dismissed." Carlson handed Tessa's personnel file back to her. Tessa took it and left Carlson's office.

  Out in the hallway, Tessa folded her arms and held the file close to her chest. She couldn't believe she had jumped and taken the chance. For a moment when Carlson warned her about being assigned overseas, she became unsure. But when she saw the skepticism in Carlson's eyes, she felt as if she was watching hope slip away. All she could think of was that she had to grasp it before it was lost.

  On reflection, she wished she hadn't hesitated at all. Yes, she might be out of her mind. Maybe the whole idea of joining up with Anthony's unit was an absolute fantasy. In the big scheme of the war and the U.S. Military, she was so insignificant. But she was done letting the war determine her fate. If Anthony was being sent to war, then she would go too. Whether or not she could find a way to join up with him, they would now be in this together. She had made her own choice. That, at least, was a private battle she had won over this war. She felt liberated. The triumph had set her free.

  The clerk at the personnel office barely looked up at Tessa when she entered. The scrawny, balding man had worked at the hospital, pushing files and papers day in and day out for more than twenty-five years. The tedium had sucked all the life out of him. His face registered no emotion or interest in anything under the depressing office light.

  "Hello." Tessa placed her personnel file on the clerk's desk along with the notice of program transfer which Lt. Carlson had given her. The clerk scanned the notice, his lips moving as if reciting the words he was reading. Then, bored by the message, he set it aside and took a drag of the cigarette burning in his ashtray. "Your proof of identity please." He hadn't looked up from his desk once.

  Tessa handed him the falsified birth certificate she had gotten from Nadine. The clerk copied the information from the document onto an application form, then gave it back to her along with a duplicate of the form he had just filled out. "Goodbye."

  Tessa took the papers and walked out. She couldn't believe her luck. That was much easier than she had expected. Her biggest worry had been the clerk questioning her age. Well, she doubted the clerk even remembered who she was.

  If only it would be half as easy to figure out how she could join up with Anthony. The idea was far-fetched. She had no idea what to do or where to start planning her next move. The possible outcomes before her now were endless.

  Would it be possible for her and Anthony to be sent some place in England? There were American troops stationed in the UK. What if they got lucky and she and Anthony could both somehow end up in London?

  Or would everything go to hell and she would be sent to a foreign country in Asia or Africa while he was sent to Europe? Or vice versa? How would she find her way to him then?

  She felt lost like a needle in a haystack, trying to find her way out.

  And then, there were her parents, and Uncle William and Aunt Sophia. They couldn't know about this. They would never let her get involved with the war. She could hide her plans from them for a while, but eventually, she would have to leave them behind. How would she explain this to them?

  All at once, every prospect overwhelmed her.

  Small steps, she told herself. One step at a time. You'll figure something out.

  II

  Part Two - The Home Front

  4

  Riding on the bus on the way to Camp Grant at Rockford, Illinois, Anthony watched the other draftees strike up conversations with one another. They were all boys and young men like himself, except most of them appeared to have come from more humble backgrounds. Caught up in the new experience of being away from home for the first time, many began sharing stories of where they were from and what they did. They reminded him of his first trip to summer camp.

  The bus driver steered off the freeway onto a back road toward the suburbs, hitting a bump along the way that bounced the passengers off their seats. The stack of boxes that took up the two front passenger seats rattled. What was in those boxes, Anthony wondered. Something government issued, obviously.

  Government Issued. Or G.I. as everybody called it. He, too, was now also Government Issued. Everyone on the bus was Government Issued. Freedom was no longer theirs. The government had summoned all of them to give up their freedom in the name of fighting for freedom.

  A funny vision came to him. Once, he had gone to the university's biological science lab to meet a classmate. Before they left, his friend had put away a transparent plastic box of healthy, white laboratory mice. The box had holes on the side to enable air to pass through. Trapped, the mice clustered around and on top of each other, their squeaks not unlike the animated chitchat on this bus. The unfortunate rodents had no idea what was coming to them.

  What was coming to them?

  As his thoughts ran, the humor in his vision ceased. This bus was not a simple means of transportation. It was a trap.

  He tried not to think about it. No use thinking too much about it.

  What was it like for Uncle Lex? How did Uncle Lex feel when he first embarked on his journey to fight in the Great War? Lex must have gone with much greater enthusiasm. In fact, he was sure of it. Over Thanksgiving weekend, he had gotten Alexander to find all of Lex's old letters which Uncle Leon had kept in storage in the attic. He read all the letters Lex had sent home while he was at war. For the most part, Lex wrote about his life in the military and how much he missed everyone. But behind the recount of day-to-day events, his words revealed a latent tone of conviction of someone who believed in the cause for which he fought. Lex was no mere idle young man looking for ways to rebel against his family. He went to war because he felt it was the right thing to do.

  Thinking of Lex's letters, Anthony felt ashamed. If only he could be as great a man as Lex. Everyone had such great expectations of him because he was William Ardley's son. In truth, he never felt the drive to do greater things than what his father had done. Sometimes, he thought he wanted to break free of the life his family had already set before him, but he had never found a direction he felt passionate enough to follow. After reading Lex's letters, it occurred to him he had never committed himself to doing something truly good and worthwhile either. Even after his own country was attacked, it took him a year to finally answer the call of duty. He looked out the bus window. He would never measure up to his father or Uncle Lex.

  When the recruits arrived at the camp, a sergeant marched them to a warehouse. There, Anthony picked up his uniform and his "dog tag." Engraved on the tag were his name, his army identification number, his blood type, and the letter "C" denoting his religious faith. The tag weighed on his hand like a bad omen. He put it away and tried to put it out of his mind.

  They followed the sergeant to their barracks. No one would ever mistake this place for home. The barracks had no furniture except for the metal bunk beds with footlockers in uniform rows down the room. They didn't even have decent lights. Everything in there felt sterile and depressing.

  What bothered him, though, was not the lack of comfort and luxury. Homesick. Already, he felt homesick. His family, Tessa, school, they were
all now out of his reach. Their lives would go on and they would make new memories without him. He felt cut off and cast out. This was his new life, one which would take him farther and farther away from everyone and everything he cared about.

  He could hardly believe how much his life had changed in just a span of hours.

  January 29, 1943

  Dear Mother, Father, and Tessa,

  How are you all? It has been three weeks since I began my army life. I am trying to adapt but it will take some getting used to. I had wanted to write home sooner but this is the first time I have been able to write with a clear mind after processing everything that has happened since I left home.

  It was a very long day I spent at the County Draft Board after reporting for duty. I passed my qualification exams, then waited for hours for my branch assignment. At the time, all the recruits were very anxious. There were a lot of theories being talked about as to how the assignments would be made. Everyone thought that those who voluntarily enlisted would get to choose which army branch to join and even request for a position they wanted, while those who were drafted would be out of luck. You know how Uncle Leon wanted me to tell the authorities I had special skills in logistics so that they might assign me to a safer position? I thought that since I didn't enlist but was drafted, I was in for the worst.

  I never got to find out if that rumor was true or not. When my turn came, I was simply assigned to the army and was sworn in. The official in charge never gave me a chance to bring up the subject of a specific position either. I guess Uncle Leon's scheme didn't work. That was fine by me. Army or not, I don't want to make a career out of logistics anyway. (I'm only joking. I know he wants me to be safe, that's all.)

  Later on, I was taken to Camp Grant. This is where they send all the new recruits from Chicago. We spent two weeks there, learning the basics of drills, marches, and formations. Most of these are fairly easy to follow, and I thought two weeks were excessive for such simple exercises. But even into week two, some recruits were still falling out of formations. One of them continuously messed up. Our squad leader got so frustrated, he made the guy carry a bag of garbage at all times for the remainder of our stay there. The guy had to carry it wherever he went, and whenever he met someone of superior rank, he had to explain that he was carrying a bag of garbage because he was a piece of trash.

  Aside from drills, we had to do a lot of camp maintenance and housekeeping, as there were no civilian employees to keep up the camp's operations. That meant we cleaned a lot. I've gotten very good at sweeping, mopping, and folding clothes and sheets. Several times, they assigned me to kitchen duty (we call it KP duty) and I cleaned pots and pans all day. They even had me cook once. I was never asked to do that again, so I guess they weren't very impressed with what I cooked up. (I thought the meatloaf I made turned out okay, considering it was partly burnt.)

  I've since left Camp Grant and am now in Camp Dover in California. We took a very long train ride to get here. On this endless ride, I got to know many of the new recruits in my group. One of the boys is from a rural farm in Wisconsin. A few others are factory workers. I'm the only college student among us who wasn't working before joining the army. The guys give me a pretty hard time about it sometimes, but it's all in good fun. Really, it doesn't matter where we are from. We are all privates now and all in the same boat. I tried to mingle and get along with all of them.

  At Camp Dover, my day starts at 6 am sharp. We begin the morning with physical training. The guys who are not in good shape have a very tough time with it. In the afternoon, the noncomissioned officers (everyone calls them noncoms) teach us about weaponry. It is strange to be around so many guns and artillery. I've never held a gun before. It is odd to think that I might one day have to use one for real. They teach us battle formations, different models of planes used by the Allies and the enemies, and how to recognize different tank models. All these are new to me and fascinating actually. Besides, these training sessions are the closest things to being in classes again. I kind of like them because of that.

  I won't talk about the food here. The thought of army food is enough to ruin my appetite. I want to ask you to send some Reese's Butter Cups, but on second thought, please don't send any. One of the guys received a package of candy from his girlfriend for an early celebration of Valentine's Day. Our captain made him dig holes in the yard and bury each piece in a hole. The sergeant said since the guy liked candy so much, he should try to grow more. So now, the guy has to water the candy every day until they grow. (It's too bad. With the sugar ration, his girlfriend must have gone through some trouble to find those candies. Oh well, I'm waiting to see if the fruit of their love will blossom.)

  By the way, they told us all our letters are censored. They read everything that goes out and comes in. The censor is to prevent us from sharing and writing anything that might compromise military secrets. Honestly, it's not as if I know any secrets to tell. Here, no one ever tells us anything. Speaking of not knowing anything, can you send me some magazines? None of us here knows what's going on outside of camp. No one in my squad has a radio and, with this camp being in the middle of nowhere, we have no access to any newspapers. We're completely cut off from the rest of the world. You probably know more military secrets than I do.

  I miss you all. Please tell Uncle Leon, Aunt Anna, Katherine, and Alexander I'm thinking of them. I will write again very soon and will write them too when I get a chance.

  — Love, Anthony

  Tessa held Aunt Sophia's hand as Uncle William read Anthony's letter aloud. When he finished, he gave the letter to his wife. Grasping it as if she was afraid she might lose it, Aunt Sophia reread every word. When she finished, she put down the letter, looking drained and defeated. "He's in the army."

  "Don't upset yourself, Sophie." Uncle William put his arm around her, but she was still distraught. They both looked so sad. Tessa wished she could say something to comfort them, but she didn't know what. She never knew what to say to make people feel better. Words always felt so useless. Words could never really help or change anything.

  "We'll have to hope for the best," Uncle William said with resignation.

  "I thought I'd be happy to get his letter." Aunt Sophia's face fell even more. "But…I don't know. I don't like hearing about him handling guns."

  Tessa didn't find it as difficult to imagine Anthony with guns. He was always so strong. What she couldn't imagine was him in the kitchen. "They had him doing other things," she said. "He said he cooked and washed pots and pans." She didn't mean to joke, but Uncle William chuckled. Even Aunt Sophia cracked a smile.

  "Tessa," Uncle William said, "you don't have to sit with us." He glanced at the letter on her lap. Anthony had sent a separate letter addressed only to her. "I know you want to read that."

  Embarrassed, Tessa picked up the letter. She still hadn't gotten used to being Anthony's girlfriend in front of Uncle William and Aunt Sophia. She wished Anthony were here. If he were here, she might not feel so awkward. But she had no time to dwell on that now. Uncle William was right. She couldn't wait to read what Anthony had written to her. "Thank you," she said. "Excuse me." She left the parlor and ran upstairs to her room.

  In her room, Tessa closed the door behind her and tore open the envelope. She scanned the entire letter quickly all at once, then read it more slowly a second time, then a third time, then again, and again, savoring every word.

  January 29, 1943

  Dear Tessa,

  Forgive me if I can't put into words very well everything I want to say to you. I've never written a love letter before. If I hadn't joined the army—no, if I had never met you—I don't think I would ever have written one. When I picked up the pen and wrote your name, I realized that nothing in my entire life—not all the years of school, not the education I got at the best academies in Chicago, nor one of the finest universities in the country—had prepared me to write a simple letter to the girl I love. I worry you will find whatever I write to be inadequ
ate to express how much I really miss you and how often I think of you.

  If it were up to me, I would have every country at peace, and you and I would be with each other without a care in the world. I'm afraid your boyfriend (me) is not a very impressive man. Would your ideal boyfriend be a hero who would stand up for righteous principles and make honorable sacrifices? If so, I'm afraid you will be disappointed. Do you remember my friend Brandon Lowe? Our neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Lowe's son? Brandon's a real hero. He always talked with passion about fighting against the evils in this world. He wanted to make a difference, so he joined the Navy. Me? All I want is to have my life back to the way it was. Go to school, swim, and be with you. I wish we could walk along the beach and watch the sunset. I want us to lie on the grass outside and watch the clouds move in the sky, or sit by the fireplace in the winter and watch the wood burn. Better yet, I wish you would play the piano while I listen all afternoon and all evening.

  I've been thinking about Uncle Lex a lot. He was a hero too. Mother and Father, Uncle Leon, and everyone are now calling me that, but I don't deserve it. I have no aspiration to be a hero. I'm here because it is the right thing to do. There are close to a hundred thousand men at Camp Dover. Most of them too wish they were somewhere else, so it is only right that I'm here. I would never forgive myself if I stood by and not share the burden with everyone.

  But I will take comfort in knowing that what I am doing now may contribute in some small way to make the world safer for you. And dare I think that maybe by being here and being a part of the military, I may even help, however insignificantly, to defend your country? To make England safe again for you and your parents? I hope so.

  I'm sorry I haven't been able to write to you every day as I said I would. I feel terrible about it. The army's schedule is out of my control. There are days when I am exhausted from training. I promise you though, I will write you every chance I get. Please write to me. Every day, I think of the day when I will see you again. I'm so lucky. I have the most wonderful, most beautiful girl in the world at home waiting for me to come back.