“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please have a seat.” Sandra elbowed Evelyn. “This is Evelyn and her friend George. Charlotte, I don’t think you’ve met George either.”
They exchanged pleasantries. George was a tall, muscular man who was in the Navy. He wasn’t very outgoing, but it was obvious by the way he looked at Evelyn that he adored her. After a few minutes, they got up to leave.
Evelyn spoke into Charlotte’s ear. “Now that you’re here, can you watch our coats and pocketbooks? We’ll be dancing!”
Before Charlotte could reply, Evelyn had already rushed to the dance floor with her flame.
Charlotte turned to Sandra. “Where’s Natalie?”
Sandra shrugged, her attention focused on Frankie. “She disappeared soon after you did.” She examined Frankie’s uniform. “So, you’re in the Army?”
“Yes, ma’am. Third Infantry Regiment. I’m stationed here in D.C.”
“What about the war? Are you going to be shipped off soon?”
“No, ma’am. Our roles aren’t combative. We’re still an infantry unit, so we’re trained should the country absolutely require our service, but we perform other functions.”
“Please stop calling me ma’am.” Sandra giggled and took a sip from her cup of punch. “What are those other functions?”
Frankie relaxed into his chair. “We perform ceremonial roles, including dignified transfers and military funerals at Arlington.”
The thought of Arlington National Cemetery sent a chill up Charlotte’s spine.
“Oh, I see.” Sandra rested an elbow on the table and leaned closer to him. “Where are you from? You have a bit of a country accent I haven’t heard in these parts.”
“I’m going to get some punch.” Charlotte scooted back her chair.
Frankie and Sandra reminded her of the September night she and Nick met. They had an instant connection, and it looked like Sandra and Frankie shared something similar. Charlotte didn’t want to be a third wheel at the table. To be honest, she didn’t feel like being at the USO center at all anymore.
On her way to the refreshments table she received a few offers to dance. She politely declined them as she searched the crowd for Natalie. She was likely out on the dance floor having a ball. Natalie could jitterbug for hours and never tire. To Charlotte’s surprise, Natalie was at the refreshments table instead.
Charlotte poured herself a cup of the red punch and stood beside her friend. “Having a good time?”
Natalie sighed. “I was. Then I thought about dancing with John. Usually when I come here, I can dance with the other guys and have a swell time. But there was this Marine who looked too much like him. He was just as tall with the same hair and eyes. And he had the same nose.” She sipped at her punch. “You?”
“I was, too, but then I was reminded of my first date with Nick.”
She and Natalie stood together in silence for a while, watching the dancers and listening to the music.
“We could go back to the college. I’m sure Evelyn and Sandra don’t want to leave anytime soon,” Natalie said.
“Bus service has ended. We could walk. It’s freezing outside, but it’s not that far. Do you think you could make it?”
Natalie snorted. “I’ve survived the winters of Michigan. I can handle it if you can.”
The decision was made to return to the college, and they walked back to the table where Frankie and Sandra sat to fetch their belongings.
“Natalie and I are going to leave,” Charlotte said, pulling their coats from the pile. She found Natalie’s pocketbook and passed it on to her as well.
Sandra sat up, her eyes wide with alarm. “Are you not having a good time?”
Natalie placed a hand to her forehead. “I have a headache. Charlotte agreed to walk back with me.”
Frankie stood. “I can drive you. It’s not my car, but I have the keys. My buddy brought his own liquor, you see. He won’t be in a state to walk by the end of tonight, let alone drive.”
Sandra rose to her feet, too. “I’ll go with you. We’ll drop you off and return.”
“That would be an inconvenience. You should stay,” Charlotte said.
“I won’t take no for an answer. It’s late, and in case you didn’t notice, the streetlights are out tonight. It’s not safe.” Frankie regarded her pointedly.
Sandra nodded. “He’s right.”
Charlotte glanced to Natalie. She shrugged.
“All right. Only because you insist.”
They left the USO center, and Frankie led them to a Cadillac parked in the rear. Natalie and Charlotte took the back seat while Sandra sat up front, giving directions. Within five minutes, Frankie pulled the car up to the curb. Natalie hopped out first and Charlotte followed.
Frankie cranked down the window. “I hope you feel better. And Charlotte, thanks.”
Charlotte smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for driving us back. Now go and have fun.” She shooed him away. “But not too much fun. We still have a curfew, Sandra.”
She groaned. “I know, I know.”
Frankie rolled up the window and drove off.
Natalie sighed. “I remember what that was like.”
“What’s that?” Charlotte opened the front door to the dormitory.
Natalie entered before her. “The first time I met John.” She shook her head. “Jeez, what’s wrong with us? We can’t even go to a fun dance without sulking and leaving early. We’re turning into curmudgeons. This is a huge problem.”
But as they headed upstairs, Charlotte concluded that nothing was wrong with them. The only thing she and Natalie were guilty of was being truly and madly in love. And for that, she’d never feel any regret.
Fifteen
“Do you think they’ll celebrate Thanksgiving?” Natalie said as she and Charlotte packed some clothes into valises. Trinity College closed for three days over Thanksgiving, and both of them were spending the holiday with Charlotte’s family.
“Maybe. I’d like to think it’ll be acknowledged, at the very least.”
Natalie pulled a heavier sweater over her blouse and smoothed down her hair. She clicked the latch on her luggage and sat on her bed. “I’m assuming no news is good news.”
Charlotte kneeled on the carpet and searched through the shoes she stored underneath her bed. “Probably. Their parents would be notified if something had happened. I visited Mrs. Adler on Sunday and she hasn’t heard anything yet, either.” She stood and stuffed leather pumps into her bag.
“I guess that’s true. I’m not as close with the Cartwrights, though. What if something happened to John and they didn’t tell me?” Natalie groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m going crazy. Please ignore me.”
Charlotte paused her packing. “Honey, they’ll be fine. We have to have faith in that.”
“You’re right,” Natalie said. “Well, I’m ready when you are.”
On their way out of the dormitory building, Mrs. Lloyd smiled and waved them to the front desk. “Girls! I have something for you. Rumor has it your beaux are fighting in Africa.” She sorted through the pile of mail and produced four envelopes, two for Charlotte and two for Natalie. “These came this morning. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Natalie flew around the desk and hugged the house matron. “Thank you so much.”
Charlotte grinned. “Yes, thank you. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”
They left the dormitory, envelopes in hand, and strode to the cream-colored Cadillac LaSalle waiting at the curb. They placed their luggage into the trunk and entered the car.
“Thank you for picking us up, Mrs. Donahue,” Natalie said from the backseat.
“You’re welcome.” Charlotte’s mother shifted into drive and pulled onto the road. “You girls look rather pleased this afternoon. Good news from the boys?”
Charlotte nodded. “We finally have letters!”
She unsealed the first envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper inside. Nick’s note was short, but sh
e found solace simply by looking at his handwriting again. It was confirmation that he was all right.
November 10, 1942
Charlotte,
I want to get this note out to you as soon as I can. Unless something happened, I assume you’ve received my letters from the ship by now, and I want to assure you of my safety. We arrived about three days ago. I wish I could give you some details, but I don’t think I’ll be able to with the censors. I don’t have much time. I promise I’ll begin working on your true letter soon.
Love,
Nick
Charlotte clutched the letter to her chest and then opened the next envelope. The second letter was written two days later than the first.
November 12, 1942
My dearest Charlotte,
I hope by now you’ve received my first note, and I hope it put you at ease. I’m sure you’ve hated not hearing from me for the past month, but I tell you, I really miss hearing from you. Please write to me as soon as you get this letter. On the envelope, you’ll find a return address where you can send my mail. The routing station will relay it to wherever we are at the moment. Right now, that’s Africa. I think they’ll let me put the continent into my letters. It’s not as if the Nazis don’t already know we’re here. Specific locations are to be avoided though, should this letter find its way into the wrong hands.
The weather is definitely something to get used to. During the day it gets really hot, but at night, the temperature drops considerably. We’ve set up camp for the night on ###########. There are a dozen or so tents. These are reserved for the officers and the makeshift hospital that houses my wounded comrades. The rest of us are out in the open. It’s cold, but we’ve built fires, and it’s a beautiful night outside. The stars and the moon are so much brighter here in the desert than in Washington, D.C.
A jeep just arrived with supplies. We have more ammunition and some food. We’re on the move too often to set up a field kitchen. The K-ration supper comes in a tan, rectangular box with the words U.S. ARMY FIELD RATION K on the top in bolded black letters. There’s a can of meat (I think it might be pork, I’m not positive), biscuits, an emergency D-ration chocolate bar (should we become stranded and have to survive off a chocolate bar for a week), toilet tissues, cigarettes, and chewing gum. There are other rations for breakfast and dinner with small variations. We haven’t had the other rations yet, but someone told me A-rations are fresh food, B-rations are food items that need to be prepared in a kitchen, and the D-ration is the chocolate bar. Right now, I’d probably kill for some fresh food. But I’m surviving, so I shouldn’t complain.
So, tell me, how are you doing? Your parents? Are you still visiting my mother regularly? How are your friends? I want to hear about everything I’ve missed this past month. Even hearing about the minutest details would mean the world to me. You bring me home through your letters.
I love you. You’re all I think about, day and night. I’m fighting for you.
Love,
Nick
***
For the first time since she’d become a nurses’ aide, Charlotte didn’t volunteer at the Army Medical Center for a full week. Instead, she celebrated Thanksgiving and the beginning of the Christmas season with her family and Natalie. When she finally returned to the hospital, the ward was decorated for the holidays. Carols played from a phonograph in the corner of the room, next to a brightly decorated Christmas tree. An eight-branched menorah also rested on a table, awaiting the Hanukkah celebrations that would begin that night. The staff had succeeded in making the ward look festive.
Charlotte’s relief at Nick’s safety brought about an ease she carried throughout the afternoon. She handed out doses of medicine, wheeled a patient to the physiotherapy ward and back, and scrubbed bed pans without complaint. When she visited Will before she left, he noticed immediately.
“You’re genuinely smiling,” he said upon her arrival.
“You can tell when I’m fake smiling?”
“Of course I can. It’s in your eyes. You can’t fake that.” He sat up further in bed. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
Charlotte adjusted the pillow behind his back. “It was nice. I went home and stayed with my parents. My friend, Natalie, joined me. Her family lives in Michigan, so it’s not practical for her to travel home for such a short holiday.” She grinned. “I also finally received word from Nick.”
“Ah . . . That must be the cause of your happiness.”
She nodded. “I know that doesn’t mean he’s out of harm’s way, but I feel a lot more optimistic.”
Will smiled. “I’m glad for you.”
She shifted her weight. “Do you want me to write to anyone on your behalf? Your family? Friends?”
His smile fell. “There’s no need.”
“Will, you’ve been here for almost a month and your only visitors have been those officers who presented you the Purple Heart. To the best of my knowledge, you’ve received no letters. Surely someone cares you’re here. I bet they’d visit if they knew you were no longer in England.”
His jaw clenched. “I said no.”
Charlotte frowned. “It’s important in your recovery to keep a positive state of mind. You need some sort of support system.”
Will’s face softened. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . anybody who ever gave a damn about me is dead. And there’s no use wasting your time writing those who don’t give a damn.”
“That can’t be true.”
He nodded tersely. “It is.”
She wanted to ask about his family, but Will was unlikely to provide any answers, and his mood would only become fouler.
Instead, she kept her questions to herself and smiled. “I know that’s not true.”
Will rolled his eyes. “And how do you know that?”
“Because I give a damn about you, and I’m alive and well.”
Sixteen
Over the next week, Charlotte received three more letters from Nick, and she wrote back to him just as often. She added the letters to her collection. Sometimes, when she had the opportunity, she took them out and reread them from the beginning. They were her and Nick’s love story, a chronicle she’d share with their children one day.
Through his letters, she learned about the other soldiers in Nick’s regiment. She knew who had girlfriends or wives back home, and who were single; who were the troublemakers, and who kept to themselves. He also went into detail about how well they ate, how little they slept, and how much they walked. He mentioned little of the war itself. She understood that knowledge of his regiment’s movements, casualties, and the effects of the war on their psyche could be exploited by the enemy and, therefore, were strictly censored from all communication. But even if Nick had been allowed, he probably wouldn’t have told her in order to spare her the details.
Instead, Charlotte followed the North African campaign in the newspapers and on the radio, always wondering in which battles Nick participated. Since the initial invasion, the Allies had captured Benghazi in Libya and moved forward into Tunisia. The newspapers reported heavy combat in Tunisia, but she was confident in Nick’s safety. As long as he continued to write her, she was at ease.
Natalie didn’t like hearing about the war, even though John was fighting in it, so Charlotte read the newspapers and discussed the events with Will during her volunteer shifts. She preferred not to play favorites with the patients on her ward, but she and Will had a special bond, one she hadn’t found with the other men. Most of the soldiers were never there long enough for her to establish rapport with them. They were wounded in training or they broke a bone, and the hospital discharged them within weeks. Will had been at the AMC for almost two months already.
On the eighth of December, Charlotte made her rounds in Convalescent Ward Fifteen and finally found the opportunity to spend time with Will.
“How are you feeling today?”
Will scowled. “I can’t wait to get these casts off. They itch like hell.”
�
��You only have two more weeks on your arms. Then you’ll be able to eat, hold a book, and maybe scratch your nose.” She flashed a teasing smile. “They’ll be off in no time.”
Will chuckled. “You’re torturing me.” He glanced at the wall clock on the other side of the ward. “It’s only two-thirty. You’re usually not here until four during the week.”
“You’re observant.” She pulled out the stool and took a seat. “Classes are over for the semester. I had my first final exam this morning.”
“And how’d you do?”
She shrugged. “I’m sure I did well.”
“I’m sure you did,” he replied. “What are you studying?”
“Sociology. And what about you? Did you go to college?”
“I went for two years. I didn’t finish my degree.”
“Because you joined the war?”
Will shook his head. “It was a couple years before I joined the Eagle Squadron.” He furrowed his brow. “My father cut me off financially, and I couldn’t afford it after that. It was either my plane or my degree, and I chose my plane.”
“What were you studying?” Charlotte asked, circumventing the mention of his father. Will usually became angry when the subject of his family arose, and she was enjoying their chat too much to risk it.
“I studied Economics at Yale. I was supposed to continue the family business.”
“That sounds impressive. What’s the family business?”
“Railroads.”
She switched the subject now that Will began responding with one-word answers. “So, how long have you been flying?”
Will’s lips lifted into a smile. Aviation was obviously his passion and a safe topic of conversation. “Since I was sixteen. In thirty-three, my father took my sister and me to the World’s Fair in Chicago. We were fifteen at the time. There was a flying exhibition put on by some ace from the Great War. He flew his airplane into the sky and did barrel rolls and dives. When he flew low over the audience, the gust of air blew off my cap, and it was exhilarating. That was when I knew I wanted to fly.”
Battle Hymns Page 9
