For the Duration: The War Years

by Tomie dePaola

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  ABOUT GAS RATIONING

  Follow these links to find the lyrics of the songs mentioned in this book.

  Also available in the

  26 FAIRMOUNT AVENUE series:

  26 Fairmount Avenue

  a 2000 Newbery Honor Book

  Here We All Are

  On My Way

  What a Year

  THE WAR YEARS:

  Things Will NEVER Be the Same

  Iʹm Still Scared

  Why?

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS A division of Penguin Young Readers Group. Published by The Penguin Group. Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.). Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England. Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.). Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd). Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India. Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd). Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa. Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-13321-7

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For all the people in Meriden, Connecticut,

  who worked hard “for the duration”

  Chapter One

  This afternoon, Mr. Conklin, the music supervisor, came to King Street School. It was going to be the first rehearsal for our Special Choir, which will sing at the Memorial Day assembly at the end of the month.

  Memorial Day is also called Decoration Day. It is the day when people decorate the graves of the men and women who fought in all the wars, with flowers and small American flags.

  All the kids bring cut flowers from our moms’ and dads’ gardens to school the morning before Memorial Day. At King Street, Mr. Walters, the janitor, always puts pots and containers filled with water in the front hallway of the school. The kids put the bunches of flowers in the pots and later on some workers come in a truck to gather them all up and take them to the cemeteries around town. This year we’ll bring the flowers to school on Friday because Memorial Day is on Saturday.

  Mr. Conklin chose twenty students for the Special Choir, four from each class, starting with the second grade. He chose the ones whose voices he liked the best from the music classes we had had all year.

  I was picked from our class with my best friend, Jeannie Houdlette. A girl named Sylvia was picked from the other second grade (she has a beautiful soprano voice) along with another boy who I didn’t know too well. We all met in the music room upstairs on the second floor of the old part of the school.

  You could tell where the old part was because the wooden floors squeaked more than in the new part.

  Miss Mulligan, the fifth-grade teacher, came into the music room with a pile of music sheets in her arms. One of the older students passed them out. Miss Mulligan played the piano at all our assemblies.

  “Now, girls and boys,” Mr. Conklin said, “we will sing a medley, which is what we call a collection of songs that are sung one after the other. Our medley will be four songs that represent the four branches of the service: the Army, the Navy, the Marines, and the Army Air Corps.

  “And,”Mr.Conklin added, “we will sing in PARTS!”

  Miss Mulligan called out our names and told us which section we would be in. I had a nice high voice, so I was in the soprano section. Two third-grade boys were in the soprano section, too. Jeannie was an alto. She could sing a little lower than me. And she could read music because she was learning to play the piano. I didn’t really know how to read music, but I was told I had a “good ear” because after hearing a melody just once, I could remember it. And I had what Mr. Conklin called “perfect pitch.”

  Miss Mulligan sat down at the piano and played the first song in the medley. It was the U.S. Army anthem. The beginning words were:“Over hill, over dale,

  We have hit the

  dusty trail

  And the Caissons

  go rolling along.”

  (A caisson is a wagon that carries ammunition.) “Very good,” Mr. Conklin said. “Now we’ll try the second song in the medley, which is ʹAnchors Aweigh,‘ the U.S. Navy anthem.”

  We sang:

  “Anchors Aweigh, my boys,

  Anchors Aweigh.

  Farewell to college joys,

  We sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay.”

  “Now, Miss Mulligan will play the alto parts for both songs,” Mr. Conklin told us.

  The altos practiced, then the tenors and basses, who were all the older boys whose voices had changed—or who could at least sing lower.

  We went on to practice “The Marines’ Hymn.”

  “From the Halls of Montezuma

  To the shores of Tripoli,

  We fight our country’s battles

  In the air, on land, and sea.”

  “We will now practice the last song in the medley, learn the parts, and try to put them all together,” Mr. Conklin said. “It is the Army Air Corps anthem.”

  Miss Mulligan began and we sang:

  “Off we go into the wide blue yonder.”

  I started to feel funny. I started to think of my cousin Blackie, whose plane was shot down. I couldn’t help it. I started imagining the enemy planes shooting at Blackie’s bomber.

  All of a sudden the words went: “We live in fame or go down in flame.”

  Blackie went down in flames, I thought, down in flames.

  Tears welled up in my eyes and my throat began to choke and it was hard to breathe. I jumped up. I couldn’t help it. I ran out of the music room, down the hall, to the second floor boys’ room. I fell against the wall and started to sob and sob and sob.

  Suddenly, Mr. Conklin came in.

  “Tommy,” he said, “whatever is the matter?”

  I could hardly talk, I was crying so hard. Mr. Conklin lifted me up and took me out into the hallway. Miss Mulligan took me by the shoulders into the teachers’ room. The doors to the classrooms were open and kids looked out at me.

  When we got inside the teachers’ room, Miss Mulligan asked me very quietly, “Can you tell me what’s wrong, Tommy?”

  “My cousin Blackie was killed when his plane was shot down. The Air Corps song made me think about it and I couldn’t stop,” I sobbed.

  “Here,” Miss Mulligan said, handing me some tissues. “Wipe your nose and try to dry your eyes. I’m going to take you down to the nurse’s office, where you can lie down.”

  We went down the stairs to Miss Luby’s office. I lay down on the little cot that was against the wall. Miss Mulligan gave me a paper cup of water and pulled down the window shade so the room wasn’t bright anymore.

  “You rest and I’ll be back in a minute,” said Miss Mulligan. She went out the door and closed it.

  As much as I tried, I just couldn’t stop my tears from coming. My stomach hurt. I couldn’t catch my breath. I just want
ed to go home.

  The door to the room opened and there were Miss Mulligan, Miss Burke, the principal, Miss Gardner, my teacher, and my brother, Buddy. Miss Gardner had my jacket.

  “Tommy,” Miss Burke said, “Joseph will take you home. We called your mother and she’s waiting for you. Now, put on your jacket and we’ll see you on Monday.”

  Buddy and I left even though school wasn’t over yet.

  Buddy looked mad. “Hurry up!” he yelled. He walked fast and ahead of me.

  I had to run to keep up.

  “Thanks a lot,” Buddy said. “My friends are going to laugh at me because of you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what was wrong.

  When we got home, Mom was waiting at the door. She hugged me.

  “You go right upstairs to the bathroom, Tomie, and wash your face with a cold cloth.”

  While I was in the bathroom, I heard Buddy talking to Mom. “I’m so glad that I go to Lincoln Junior High School next year and won’t ever have to be in the same school as him as long as I live!”

  “Buddy, watch your tone,” Mom scolded.

  “I don’t care. All my friends are going to laugh at me. It’s all over the school: Tomie dePaola ran out of the music room, crying like a BABY!”

  “Just you be careful, young man,” I heard Mom say. “Tomie got very upset about the Air Corps song. He couldn’t help it. You know how much he loved Blackie.”

  “He always does stuff so everyone pays attention to him,” Buddy answered. “It embarrasses me! He’s a big sissy. Everyone thinks so.”

  “That’s enough, Buddy,” Mom said. “I think you’d better go up to your room and cool off.”

  Mom came to the stairs. “Tomie,” she called, “come down.”

  Buddy stormed up the stairs.

  I was just coming out of the bathroom. As Buddy passed me, he punched me—hard—in the arm.

  “I’ll get even with you!” he growled.

  I ran down the stairs. That night I slept on the daybed in my baby sister Maureen’s room. Mom said Buddy needed to “simmer down.”

  Chapter Two

  I love going to Miss Leah’s Dancing School every Saturday. The only thing is that it means I can’t go down to my grandparents’ store in Wallingford to help out Tom and Nana, like Dad and Buddy do. But since we go to Tom and Nana’s house every Sunday, I still get to spend time with Tom. Tom is really my best grown-up friend since Dad is working two jobs—his regular job during the day at the State Office Building in Hart-ford and at night at the New Departure War Plant. Tom is the one I talk to about things that worry me, like the war.

  This spring I am allowed to go downtown to Dancing School all by myself on the bus. The South Meriden bus driver on Saturdays is Mr. Al Comeau. Al and Mrs. Comeau are good friends of Mom and Dad and they live just down the street on Baldwin Street. They have a house that is just about the same size as ours. They also have a couple of kids who have their own bedrooms (not like us—Buddy and I have to share). But they go to Hanover School, not King Street, so we don’t see them much, except in the summer when all the kids from all the streets in the neighborhood play together. In the Comeaus’ house there are two very fancy statues on the mantel of the fireplace. One is a lady wearing a dress and apron holding a big bunch of wheat, and the other is a man in overalls with a big hay rake over his shoulder. They are painted very bright colors, and I bet they cost a lot of money!

  To get downtown, I’d walk down Fairmount Avenue to Highland Avenue. Then I’d go up Highland to where it met Columbus Avenue. That was the bus stop. Some of the houses I walked by had flags with a blue star in their windows. The government gave these flags to the mothers if they had a son or daughter fighting in the war. I see more and more of these flags every day. Some houses have two or three flags. Mom told me that Aunt Kate will get a flag with a gold star on it because Cousin Blackie was killed. The gold star means that the mother’s son or daughter gave his or her life for the country.

  If I was a little late for the bus, and Mr. Al Comeau was driving, he’d wait for me. The bus cost one dime or a token. You could get three tokens for twenty-five cents.

  The bus would go down Columbus Avenue, which was a long hill, to Hanover Street to Cook Avenue. Then it went up Cook Avenue (another hill) and turned down West Main Street.

  The bus passed the YMCA, then the Palace movie theater where I saw all the Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney musicals. Across from the Palace was Lamphier’s Paint and Art Supplies store. I liked going in there to look at all the oil paints, water-colors, pastels, and books on how to draw. There were lots of other stores, too: Katz Brothers Sweet Shoppe, where all the high school kids went after school; Woolworth’s Five- and Ten-Cent Store, which always had the best Halloween stuff; Connecticut Light and Power Company, which looked liked the picture of a Greek temple I saw ander’s Candy and Pop-in a book; Growers Outlet Grocery Store; Christian Fox Music Store, where you could listen to records in little booths before you bought them; Alex corn store, where Mom got me popcorn so I wouldn’t be carsick on long trips; and the Vienna Bakery, which always had decorated cakes in the window. There was a traffic tower that stood in the middle of West Main Street and Colony Street; Molloy’s Stationery, which sold beautiful fountain pens; a couple of shoe stores; and the Alling Rubber Sports store, where Mrs. Anderson’s husband worked. (Mrs. Anderson played the piano at Miss Leah’s.)

  The bus would turn the corner at Schulte’s Smoke Shop, and there was the bus depot. The bus ride took thirty minutes.

  Today I got off the bus and walked as fast as I could to Miss Leah’s to find out what the surprise would be. I crossed the train tracks that went right through the middle of downtown to get to the Hamrah Building. That was one of the biggest brick buildings in all of Meriden. It was very old and a little spooky. Miss Leah’s Dancing School was on the top floor. The stairs were very wide and went up and up and up. It had a lot of dark corners and hallways on every floor.

  But Miss Leah’s Dancing School was bright and shiny, with big mirrors on one wall so we could watch ourselves practicing. There was a room called the “waiting room” where sometimes Miss Leah’s mom, Mrs. Grossman, sat at the desk. Mrs. Clar ence Anderson was the piano player. Her piano was in the big room with the mirrors. There were ballet bars along the walls, too.

  Carol Morrissey, Patty Clark, Billy Burns, and I were the only ones in the advanced class that year, so everything we did was in “partners.” Carol and Patty went to King Street School with me. Carol, who was my partner, was in first grade. Patty was in my second-grade class and her partner, Billy, went to a different school.

  When we got to class, the first thing we did was to warm up with simple tap steps, like “up-back-down,” “slaps,” and “time steps.” Then we would do our “travel steps,” going across the floor one at a time. As we got better, Miss Leah added turns and harder things like that. She taught us to “spot out turns,” which meant that we’d look at a spot on the wall, start to turn our bodies, then whip our heads around to look back at the same spot before our bodies got there. If you did it right, you didn’t get dizzy.

  Then we’d start working on our “routine” —the dance we would do in the recital. Every week, Miss Leah would give us some new steps to add. We would finally do all the steps to the music. I loved it! Mom wrote down all the steps for me in a little notebook so I could practice every night at home.

  This Saturday, when class was over, Billy Burns and I practiced “Uncle Sam Gets Around,” the special number we would sing and recite. Then Miss Leah said, “Tomie, would you please wait a few minutes? I want to talk with you.”

  This must be the surprise that Mom told me about!

  “Tomie,” Miss Leah said, “my idea for the first act of our recital is that it takes place under the sea in a magical kingdom that is ruled by King Neptune, the king of the sea. I need someone to be King Neptune and to announce each number. And I want that someone to be you. I’ve written dow
n all the words that I’d like you to learn and say, and Mrs. Anderson and I have found a cute song for you to sing. It’s called ʹWhat Kind of a Noise Annoys an Oyster.‘

  “Mrs. Anderson will play it for you, and I have the costume sketch to show you. Your mom said it was okay with her. So, would you like to be our King Neptune?”

  Oh, boy, would I! I had seen a picture of King Neptune in a book, and he wore a crown and carried a thing called a trident, and he had an amazing long white beard that looked like ocean waves.

  “Will I have a long beard?” I asked Miss Leah.

  She and Mrs. Anderson laughed. “I don’t think so, Tomie,” Miss Leah said. “You’ll be cuter without one. Would you like to do it?”

  “Yes, Miss Leah,” I answered. “Oh yes, yes.”

  Mom came in to pick me up. I told the great news. “I have a starring part. Hooray!”

  “Isn’t that great!” said Mom. “Your cousin Blackie would be very proud of you.”

  But I’ll have a lot of work to do. The recital was going to be in three weeks on Saturday, May 23. Miss Leah said she would give me some extra rehearsals. Then she showed me the costume sketch. It was a green and silver short robe, called a “tunic,” that had a flowing green cape with a silver border. There was a silver crown, a silver trident, and green shoes. It looked like something from the movies. I can’t wait to tell my best friend, Jeannie.

  Chapter Three