by Alexa Kang
Castile clasped his hands and listened. He looked less like an army general now and more like a concerned father, the same way that Uncle William looked when he thought of Anthony. "What do you think is wrong with him?" he asked Dr. Donovan.
"Guilt," Donovan said. "He's haunted by guilt. A lot of men under his command died. He cared for them. He feels responsible. His friends were killed in action. It was painful for him to watch his friends die. He says he has back pain, but he doesn't have any back injury. I think his emotional pain is manifesting itself this way so he can share the pain with everyone he lost."
The general considered what he said.
"Ron needs help." Tessa urged again. "We want to help him. Please let us help him."
"Will you be able to cure him?" he looked up to them and asked.
"We can't promise anything. The army doesn't keep very good records of documented cases of battle neurosis. If I may be honest, General, our military and government haven't paid enough attention to this problem, so our information is limited. But we can change that. If we have funding and support, we can start a pilot program here and test different ways to treat this illness." He laid out several documents on the desk. The general picked up one and studied the first few pages.
"If we could have your support, sir, we could be doing a great service for our veterans returning home with this condition," Donovan pressed on.
The general put down the document and straightened in his seat. His moment of introspection had passed. "If you really think you can help him, I'll let Ron remain here under your care."
Relieved, Tessa looked at Donovan. The doctor was clearly pleased. Immediately though, he was disappointed again as Castile said, "But the pilot program won't do. Even if I want to support you, it'd be an uphill battle. It's bad enough our soldiers are coming home shot, maimed, if not dead. The last thing we need is the public thinking they will come home crazy too. If we set up a treatment program, it would mean the military is officially acknowledging that the war is causing mental damage. It would not be good for the army's image or our recruitment efforts."
Tessa could not believe what she was hearing. How could they leave people untreated for the sake of publicity?
As if he read her thoughts, Castile glanced at her, then looked away again and said to Donovan. "I know what I said may sound cold to you, but we are at war. There is a lot at stake. We have to look at the big picture. We could ruin our troop's morale if they think they might lose their minds fighting in the war. Some men will try to use this excuse to get out of fighting. The situation could get out of hand. We cannot have these problems while we're still at war. People's lives are at stake."
"So we sacrifice the ones who are suffering?" Tessa asked.
"It's a sacrifice for the greater good," Castile said. "Anyway, we have to consider our resources. Right now, winning the war and allocating our financial resources to support our troops overseas are our first priorities. We can't spare any financial resources."
Tessa wanted to ask him to reconsider, but Donovan shook his head at her.
"I'm sorry." Castile stood up from his seat. "Take care of my son. I hope he'll be recovered the next time I return."
When he had left, the tension in the room eased and Donovan dropped into his seat. Tessa felt like she could breathe easy again.
"You can treat Ron now," Ted Barnaby said, coming out of hiding from behind the film projector.
"Yes. Thank you, Mr. Barnaby," Tessa said. Ted was right. At least now they could help Ron, even though they didn't get everything they had hoped for.
A few days later, in Dr. Donovan's office, it was Leon Caldwell who was cringing in the seat where General Castile had sat.
"That was the most disturbing thing I've ever seen," Leon said when Ted Barnaby turned off the projector and switched on the lights after the film was over.
"We cannot expect quick results," Dr. Donovan told him. "Our program will require long-term, dedicated commitment to discover what works and what doesn't. Mental illnesses take much longer to heal than physical wounds."
"Yes," Leon said. "Tessa already explained that to me."
"This is our proposed plan and budget." Donovan pushed a set of papers across the desk to show Leon. "We'll start small. We'll try out some of the treatments done by Arthur Hurst. We'll observe and adjust where we need. If we can gather enough empirical results, we can share them with other hospitals even if the Army won't officially acknowledge this is a problem."
Leon nodded in agreement.
"Would you help us?" Tessa asked him.
"We can definitely use your financial support, Mr. Caldwell," said Donovan.
"You haven't told William and Sophia about this?" Leon asked Tessa.
"I don't want them to know. They're worried enough as it is. I don't want them to think something like this might happen to Anthony."
"Yes, you're right." Leon accepted her explanation without a doubt. She glanced away from him. It was true that she thought if Uncle William and Aunt Sophia saw the film of Ron, it would add to their worries about Anthony. What she hadn't told Leon was that she didn't want Uncle William and Aunt Sophia to come to the hospital at all in case they talked to the doctors about her. She still hadn't told them she had switched programs, and she would prefer they didn't find out. She figured that Uncle Leon, not being her direct guardian, would be much less likely to raise the subject.
Besides, Uncle Leon needed a diversion. He had been feeling helpless against every wrath the war had brought that he couldn't control. His isolationist efforts had all but disintegrated. Pearl Harbor broke down everything he stood for. And then, his beloved nephew had gone off to war. Getting him involved with Dr. Donovan's plan would give him something to feel good about.
"I will look at your proposal, Doctor." Leon took the set of documents Donovan gave him. "Assuming your suggestions are sound, I'm ready to pledge my support."
Delighted, Donovan said, "Thank you, Mr. Caldwell."
"I'll see what I can do to round up a group of financial donors to back this program. As I always say, we have to protect and look out for our own."
"Yes. Yes, of course," Donovan concurred. "We most certainly must do that."
Pleased with the outcome, Tessa watched while Dr. Donovan explained the details of the proposal to Leon. Small victories. She smiled to herself. The war may be bigger than her, but she could resist and find ways to win small victories. The idea gave her hope. She might find a way to Anthony after all.
15
On a Sunday afternoon when the sun was shining bright above the sky, Tessa sat alone by the piano, reading the last letter Anthony had sent her. Outside, the trees had turned green and the sounds of birds once again carried through the parlor windows, reminding everyone spring had arrived.
…It saddens me to hear you sound so upset in your letter. I know how much you resent this war. I don't like being away from you either, and certainly I wish the world were at peace. But the war brought you to me, so it is one good thing that came out of it. I am so happy that we have met…
Anthony. He was always so optimistic. He always saw the good and bright side of everything. She, on the other hand, would always spot darkness. She could so easily succumb to darkness and let rage overtake her.
…As long as you are in my life, I can face anything. The only thing that matters to me now is that you are in my life…
She raised the letter and caressed it with her lips. By herself, she could never see all the positive sides of things the way he did. Only he could ease their heartaches with his words. In these hard times when they couldn't control their own lives, his optimism carried them through.
How she loved him for it.
A ray of sunlight glinted through the tree branches into the room, shining on the papers with the list of songs he had sent her. She picked up the list from the top of the piano.
…I have an idea how we can be together. I know you like to play the piano on Sundays when Mo
ther and Father go on their afternoon walks. Here where I am, Sunday is our rest day. I am sending you six lists of songs. The lists are dated by the Sundays for the remaining weeks I'll be training at the OCS. On Sundays, would you play for me the songs listed for each particular Sunday? If you start at three o'clock and play the songs in the order I have written, I will start thinking of these songs at four o'clock in Georgia in the same order as if I'm listening to you play. This way, we can do something together even though we're apart. We will do this every Sunday for as long as we can.
Today's list contained a mix of classical and contemporary music. When the grandfather clock struck three, she hit the first note. One by one, she played the songs on the list. Was he somewhere now thinking of these songs as he promised? Could he somehow hear the music as she played?
When she got to the last song, her heart tingled and she smiled to herself. "Moonlight and Roses Bring Memories of You" by Ben Black and Neil Moret. Next to the song title, he had scribbled, "Night after the Biograph." That was the night when she swam naked in the lake in front of him after they went to see a movie together. Thank goodness no one was around when she first saw this after opening his letter. Her face burned up even though she was alone. She still could not believe he did this!
Her heart raced along with the melodies. Can you hear, Anthony? Can you hear this?
On a Sunday afternoon when the sun was shining bright above the sky, Anthony sat alone in the woods on the edge of the forest near his barracks. He leaned back against the tree trunk and looked up into the sky. The leaves in the surrounding area had turned lush green and the sounds of birds could be heard from all directions. Spring had arrived.
He liked this forest. In the military, no one had any privacy. This forest gave him a place to escape to for a few moments of solitude.
Not that he was complaining. Fort Benning was a huge improvement over Camp Dover and the California desert. The officer trainees must still adhere to a strict military code of conduct, but he no longer had to suffer unreasonable rules, penalties, and punishments designed to break down recruits. There was no more loser captain picking on him and making his life hell. The instructors here had no time to waste on petty nonsense like subjecting trainees to extra fatigue duties or physical exercises for the sake of their own amusement. They had only three months to turn the current class of trainees into qualified officers. They must fill the burgeoning number of officer positions as the U.S military geared up for war. To that end, the classes at OCS were much more focused and organized. Candidates who could not keep up were quickly weeded out, not kept around for disparagements at the higher-ranking officers' whims.
The facilities here were better too, unlike the temporary camps set up to train new recruits. Designed to be a permanent training ground, the living quarters where the officer trainees slept were actual buildings furnished with real beds. They even had shelves on which to store their belongings. Such simple items of comfort made all the difference when they returned from a full day of physical training.
This afternoon, while everyone had gone to the USO center nearby to catch a movie, read a book, or play a game of cards, Anthony went off into the woods alone. He had been looking forward to this all week. Here, he would be alone with Tessa.
He took her last letter out of his pocket and smelled the sweet fragrance of her rose perfume. She must be in the parlor now, sitting by the piano waiting to start. He felt so happy knowing where she was and what she was doing at this exact moment. Although separated by place, they were together in time.
He glanced at his watch. Four o'clock. The minute hand shifted to the number twelve and he started to think of the music of each song he had asked her to play today. He had made a copy of the list for himself too so he wouldn't forget. Across space and distance, they should still be hearing the same melodies with the passing time.
When he reached the last song in his mind, he thought of her naked silhouette under the moonlight by the lake. He had long stopped caring whether or not it was proper to have these kinds of thoughts about her. Who knew when he would see her again? His thoughts were all he had to go on.
He closed his eyes and imagined what it must feel like to hold her under the moonlight. What was she thinking now? Could she feel how much he wanted her?
V
Part Five - Tessa's Quest
16
April 28, 1943
Dear Tessa,
Happy birthday!!! I hope this card gets to you in time. I cannot tell you how unhappy I am to miss your birthday. I can only make up for it with this little gift I'm sending you. I didn't tell you before, but during my last visit to L.A. when I was still back at Camp Dover, I went looking for your birthday present. I found this bookmark with emeralds. Emerald is your birthstone, so I hope you like it. I couldn't get anything too big because I don't have much space anywhere to store my things, and I couldn't get anything too expensive because here with the army, I don't have a lot of money with me. I promise you though, when we are together again, I will get you many many more and better presents. Each year will be a new surprise. I promise you, there will be many good things in store for you in the future.
We will be so happy together when this war is over. God willing, next year?
May all your birthday wishes come true.
— Love, Anthony
Tessa glided her fingers across the gold-plated bookmark, careful not to smudge its shiny surface. How long did Anthony look before he found this?
Imagining him picking it out at a shop, she held it up to her lips and kissed it. This was how she could feel him, by touching something he had touched.
Before Anthony, she had always imagined how incredible it would feel to be in love. She had learned now that love could hurt, and hurt so much. Not being able to see him and be with him hurt.
She picked up the birthday card he had sent her and held it close to her heart.
Last year, he gave her a birthday present too. Or, more correctly speaking, a gift to try to make up with her after they had that ridiculous argument about her being at a bar. She took the pink rose pendant out of her dresser drawer. In front of the mirror, she took off the cross she was wearing and put on the necklace with the rose pendant. Looking at her own reflection, she touched the pendant with her fingers. The necklace was quite long. A shorter one would look better and the pendant would not be hidden beneath her clothes, but she actually preferred this length. Now she could have him closer to her heart.
She picked up the cross. Its necklace dangled from her hand. Her mother had given this to her and she had worn it since she was a child. It was a token to keep her safe. After coming to America, she continued to wear it because it was a memento from home. But she still had the Bulova watch her parents had given her when she departed England. More than anything now, she wanted to keep Anthony safe.
She took the cross to her desk and started writing.
May 10, 1943
Dear Anthony,
Thank you with all my heart for the lovely birthday present. The bookmark is exquisite. It is the most delightful birthday present. I will use it and every time I see it, I will think of you. The only gift that could top this would be if you had come home.
On my birthday, Ruby, Jack and Henry came by the hospital and took me out to lunch. Sarah Brinkman, my colleague at the hospital, baked me a birthday cake. Aunt Sophia and Uncle William took me out for a wonderful dinner and gave me a beautiful silk scarf made in India. I also received a telegram from my Mother and Father. That made my day! I miss them terribly. It is horrible to not be able to see my parents for so many years. I hope this will not happen to you. I wish this war will be over soon, and you will be back home with Uncle William and Aunt Sophia.
My parents sent me a photo album of pictures that Father took while he was on tour visiting military troops. There were even photos of Father with the American Army. The American units stationed in London formed an Army Theater Troupe and collaborated with Father's c
ompany to perform shows for their fellow soldiers. I am glad to know that American soldiers overseas are able to engage in leisure activities. That means you will be able to find things to do that are not military-related if you are sent overseas.
All in all, I had a wonderful birthday. But still, the day was not perfect because you weren't here. When I blew out the candles on the birthday cake Sarah baked for me, I made a wish that you and I will be able to spend my next birthday together.
Now, to thank you for your beautiful gift, I want to give you something from me. I'm sending you the cross that I have been wearing since I was little. Mother gave it to me for my protection. I give it to you now. May it protect you wherever you go.
— Love, Tessa
She folded the cross into the letter and, after spraying it with her rose perfume, put both the letter and the cross inside the envelope. Now, he could have her close to his heart too.
Before leaving for the post office, she touched the photo of Anthony in a picture frame that now sat on her desk. The photo had been among the ones displayed in the den. Their time together before he left had been so short, she didn't even have her own photo of him.
How she wished she could hold his hand and hear his voice.
A hospital kitchen staff member greeted Tessa and Ron when they returned from their daily afternoon walk. He still complained now and then of back pain, but his condition had improved, as he could now walk in an upright position again without twisting his body and dragging his leg. He had resumed his occupational therapy too. Tonight, they had assigned him to assist with distributing dinners to patients.
