‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘It was a girl I’d known in grade school back in Virginia. We weren’t close friends but I did know her and I was pretty sure it was the same person even though she’d changed a lot since then. She was waiting for me outside of Y-12 today and said she’d been trying to find me for weeks.’
‘How did she know you were on the reservation?’ Tom asked. ‘And how did she know where you worked? And did she really want to find you for old-time’s sake or did someone put her up to it?’
‘In the last few minutes, I’ve asked myself all the same questions, Tom. At the time, her answers seemed very credible, but now, I’m not so sure.’
‘If she’s somebody’s puppet, who’s pulling the strings? Hansrote? Crenshaw? The FBI? Or a member of some other shadowy agency no one wants us to know about?’
‘I wish I knew.’
Gregg asked, ‘Do you know how to get in touch with her and would you be willing to do so?’
‘Yes and yes. If she did not seek me out for the reasons she stated, the only way we could find out who we’re up against is to reengage with her.’ I knew I had to do that but even if she were innocent of any conspiratorial motive, I didn’t really want to visit someone who knew and reminded me of the past, but I didn’t feel I had any choice.
I opened my eyes just before dawn on the morning of Tuesday, June 6, and stayed in bed thinking about what I needed to do in the lab that day and making plans to go over to the dormitories after work to find Jessie. I also needed to make sure that Gregg was making regular visits to Frannie to keep her spirits up and make sure she hadn’t bolted off somewhere. Little G.G. rubbed his head on my chin and then danced around the bed meowing.
I went into the living room, turned on the radio and headed to the kitchen to feed the kitten and start the percolator. It was only a few steps but I didn’t make it that far. The news on the radio spun me around.
‘CBS News, Bob Koss speaking. And again we bring you the available reports, all of them from German sources on what Berlin radio calls “the invasion”. Correspondents at our War Department in Washington, D.C. were told: “We have no information on the German report.” There has been no announcement of any sort from allied headquarters in London. News reached this country about the German report at 12:37 Eastern War Time. The Associated Press recorded this broadcast and warned us it could be one that the Allied Forces told us to expect from the Germans. The Berlin report began: “This is a special bulletin. Early this morning, the long awaited invasion by British and American troops began when paratroops landed in the area of the Somme estuary. The harbor at Le Havre is being seriously bombarded at the present moment. Naval forces of the German Navy are off the coasts battling with enemy landing vessels.” The German-controlled Calais Radio came on the air today with this announcement in the English language: “This is D-Day. We will now bring music for the Allied invasion forces.” We must remember that the Germans are quite capable of faking these entire reports. The reason for doing so is to try to smoke out Allied plans and to start a premature uprising by the resistance movement along the channel coast. The French, the Belgians and the Dutch have all been warned about this possibility repeatedly.’
G.G.’s plaintive wails finally broke through my focus on the news report and I hurried into the kitchen to fill up his bowl and start the coffee before rushing back into the living room. I continued to listen to the evidence pointing to the story being German propaganda and to hints of actual Allied action. I wanted to believe it was true but the not knowing with any certainty kept me tuned to the station for far longer than usual. I dressed in a hurry and drove to work.
Along the way, I noticed small gatherings of people engrossed in conversation, including several right along the boardwalk outside of Y-12. I joined one on my way inside. The group was clearly divided in opinion. All I really wanted was confirmation that the invasion had actually begun. I drifted from one group to another but no one had heard anything decisive from our government. That absence made me sense that it was real. If it was false reporting by the Germans wouldn’t the Allies have debunked it immediately?
I walked into my lab where the chattering was at a fever pitch. Charlie came out of his office and said, ‘Enough! We will learn whether it is actually happening or not when the president informs us. Regardless of whether an invasion is underway at this time or not, the war is still not over. It is far from over. And we have work to do to help bring it to an end. Go to your station and attend to the tasks at hand. If I hear anything definitive, one way or the other, I will share it with you when I am authorized to do so. Now, get to work.’
Everyone stood still for a moment staring at Charlie. Then the rhythm of our labors reasserted itself and everyone got lost in performing their duties. At lunch time the exodus was an epic one with voices raising before they got out of the building. Everyone wanted to discuss, theorize about and agonize over the possible invasion. I was already weary of the debate. I grabbed a sandwich and a milk from the cafeteria and went back to the lab to eat my meal away from the uproar.
Despite the distractions, everyone promptly returned from lunch and jumped into their assigned tasks with solemn fervor. It wasn’t much later that we were interrupted by Charlie. ‘President Roosevelt is about to make an address to the nation. If any of you want to hear it, come into my office.’
Charlie’s office was very tiny and soon we were all jammed at the doorway, crushing one another in our hurry to get in and hear every word FDR had to say. ‘Libby,’ Charlie said over the tumult, ‘I have one spare chair in here, please come in and have a seat.’
Tom snarled, ‘Oh Jeez! Always special treatment for the lady.’
‘Tom, keep in mind, not only is Libby a professional just like you, but she is second in command in this laboratory. That alone grants her a seat. But let me tell you, just because I accept women as my professional peers does not preclude me from being a gentleman. Even if she were the lowest ranking member of our group, I would have offered the seat to her. Grow up, Tom.’
Tom mumbled under his breath but didn’t make any comment anyone else could hear. I settled into the wooden chair just in time for the beginning of FDR’s address. ‘My fellow Americans: last night, when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome, I knew at that moment that troops of the United States and our allies were crossing the Channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far. And so, in this poignant hour, I ask you to join with me in prayer: Almighty God, Our sons, pride of our Nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity. Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.’
The president went on to pray for their blessings for the soldiers against the perseverance of the enemy. ‘They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and goodwill among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home. Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them, Thy heroic servants, into Thy kingdom.’
He then asked for help and strength for the families at home. ‘With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogances. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister Nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.’
I hardly breathed through his prayer and my heart was heavy with the knowledge that many families would soon hear the hard and cruel news that their sons, fathers, brothers and husbands would not be coming home. When the President said, ‘Amen,’ his final word echoed in whispers all around the room. I looked at all the scientists gathered in that small space and everyone appeared to be deep in though
t, some heads remained bowed. Even Tom seemed moved. But now, it was time to get back to work.
NINETEEN
I had Gregg drop me off in front of Jessie’s dormitory before he took the car into Knoxville to make sure Frannie had heard the news. Again, Joe rode with him – this time simply to talk to his family about the day’s events.
When I reached my old classmate’s floor, the noise was deafening. Nearly every door along the hall was wide open, with music blaring into the corridor from multiple radios and phonographs creating a jarring cacophony of mixed melodies. I stepped into Jessie’s doorway and she spotted me right away.
‘Libby!’ she shouted. Holding up a tin cup, she bellowed, ‘God bless you, Libby Clark, and God bless America!’ She put the cup to her lips and downed the contents in one swallow. ‘A drink for my friend! A drink for my friend!’
Another young woman staggered over, handed me a cup and slopped a clear liquid into it. It smelled like home-brewed splo and I wasn’t about to take a sip.
‘To Libby Clark and the merry band of scientists at Y-12!’ she said raising the cup in the air.
I put mine to my lips and just allowed the liquid to brush them – even that was harsh and apt to lead to nausea. I smiled, though, and added another toast. ‘To the girls slaving away all over this reservation.’ Again, I pretended to take a sip and sloshed a little out of my cup as I brought it down. No one noticed. Not a single one of them was capable of swallowing without considerable spillage. Sober as I was, I still seemed to fit right into the celebratory antics, probably because they were all too sauced to tell the difference.
Jessie came to my side and leaned against me. Her breath was so liquor-laden, I wondered if I’d get intoxicated by inhaling the fumes. ‘Well, old school chum, tell me. What brings you here tonight?’
She certainly was beyond any kind of conversation this evening so I made an abrupt change of plans. ‘I wanted to invite you to come to my house tomorrow evening for dinner. I don’t know what I’ll fix but I’m sure to find something at the market.’
‘Super dooper,’ she said.
I knew she wouldn’t remember in the morning so I asked for paper and a pen and wrote out a reminder for her and stuck it into the frame around her mirror in the bathroom. Hopefully someone wouldn’t grab it and use it to wipe their mouth or anything else.
At home, I fixed a cup of tea and listened a report of the invasion on the radio news. ‘Our aircraft met with little enemy fighter opposition or anti-aircraft fire. The naval casualties, the communique concluded, have been very light, especially when the magnitude of the operation is taken into account. The reports of the land fighting, necessarily vague at this early stage of the invasion, indicate that American, British and Canadian troops who landed on the French Normandy coast this morning to open the western front, have forced their way a mile and a half inland to the ancient and important rail city of Caen and allied operations are developing along a sixty-mile front stretching north from the Cabourg peninsula. There have been no reports, as of yet, that the Germans have recovered sufficiently to engage in a counter-attack.’
It was heartwarming to hear our troops were moving forward successfully with their battle plans; but it saddened me later in the report to hear of the wounded being shipped over to England. Where there are wounded, there are also the dead. I turned off the radio and sat back down to read A Tree Grows In Brooklyn before heading off to bed.
The next morning, I started the coffee and fed the kitty before turning on the radio. I listened intently to the latest report from the European front. ‘Here is the latest on the allied invasion. British sources report that the British Sixth Airborne Division has captured and is holding bridges north of Caen in the Cabourg peninsula. The division was landed at the opening of the invasion and was reinforced last night. American fighter pilots returning to their base in Britain report that allied invasion forces have established a bridgehead from five to six miles deep in France. And this is borne out by German communications.’
Further in the broadcast, I felt real fear when they announced that Field Marshal Rommel himself was leading the German forces sent to respond to the invasion. Rommel’s tactical military skills demonstrated with the Afrika Corps earned him the grudging respect of our allied generals. I shivered at what his arrival might mean to the men on the ground.
The typical attitude at the lab, however, was total faith in General Omar Bradley who was leading our troops in Normandy. I had great respect for his ability, too, but it seemed that so many of my male peers were underestimating the determination and ferocity of the Germans. I was far less sanguine. For now, I didn’t know who was included in the high-risk venture of the invasion. Could there be any of the young men I knew as boys when I was growing up in the country outside of Bedford, Virginia? Might a dance partner from my high school or college days now be lying prostrate on the beach, dead, dying or wounded? Until I had these answers, I could take nothing for granted.
TWENTY
After work, I found a couple of nice sirloin pork chops at the market and rushed home to get dinner started. I had some very lucky additions in my pantry to add to the meal. Back in January, Dr Bishop, disgraced when his wife had killed his mistress, had sent over the contents of his pantry including the family’s home-canned goods before he left Oak Ridge. From that bounty, I could serve green beans and apple sauce for side dishes. The latter, with its precious sugar, was very difficult to find.
I opened the door at the first knock and welcomed a smiling Jessie inside. She seemed in awe over the little flattop but she was even more impressed with the dinner I set on the table.
‘Apple sauce? What a treat,’ she said as she slid the first spoonful in her mouth. ‘Oh, and this tastes homemade. It’s every bit as good as my mother’s – maybe better.’
‘I thought you’d like it,’ I said, pleased with her delight. All the while we ate, I searched for an opening to pose a question about the real reason she wanted to contact me. I found it when we cleared the table.
Walking into the kitchen, she said, ‘A bit ago, I sure wouldn’t have imagined us breaking bread together. I’m ashamed to say you hadn’t crossed my mind in years. But this has been fun, so glad we met up again.’
Trying to sound off-hand, I asked, ‘Whatever made you think of me again? Was I the topic of conversation?’
‘Yes, when your name was mentioned, it all rushed back.’
The words sounded innocent but her averted gaze and the bright red flush on her cheeks told another story. ‘So, Jessie, did someone push you to seek me out?’
Keeping her head down, she changed the subject. ‘Do you want to wash or dry? Probably, I ought to wash on accounta I wouldn’t know where to put away the dry dishes.’ She turned on the kitchen faucet and added detergent before loading the dishes into the sink.
I put both my hands on her upper arms and turned her to face me. ‘Who, Jessie, who told you to befriend me?’
She jerked away and said, ‘What a peculiar thing to say.’ She grabbed the dishcloth and applied it to the surface of a plate with intense concentration.
I felt the ripples of anxiety draw tight around my chest. I plucked the cloth out of her hand. ‘We have to talk, Jessie. Let’s sit back down at the table.’
We walked toward the table and she said, ‘I really need to get back to my room. I promised my roommate—’
‘No. Sit, Jessie. Now.’
She wilted into the wooden chair and I sat in the other one. Still her eyes were focused downward.
‘Who sent you after me? Dr Hansrote?’
Her head popped up. ‘Dr Hansrote?’
I nodded.
‘Hansrote? Why in mercy’s name would I have anything to do with that fancy drugstore cowboy? He’s nothing but trouble. Besides, he’s already got a mistress.’ She spit out that last word like she would a gnat that had zoomed into her mouth.
‘Really?’ I said. ‘He’s a married man.’
‘Don
’t I know it. But that wriggly serpent has been after all the girls for a coon’s age. He even cheesed up to me once, but I put him in his place real quick like. But that silly Mabel Cruthers fell hook, line and sinker. Now she’s quit her job and is a “woman of leisure”, she said. He was setting her up in her own apartment in town, she said. He even promised her a telephone – and no party line either.’
The crackle of excitement made me want to grab her and plant a kiss on her cheek. However, I knew it wouldn’t do to appear overly enthused. ‘Do tell, Jessie. Did he do that or was he just toying with her?’
‘He did it all right. She sent me a letter from her new address in Knoxville. She asked me to come visit her sometime. Mama would skin me alive if I called on a woman like that.’
‘Does he come to see her often?’ I asked.
‘She said once a week – sometimes more, but usually that’s all. She said when he arrives, she has to leave the apartment while he places a top-secret phone call. Then, when she comes back, she … well, you know what mistresses do. She said I ought to try it. She said it sure beats working all day then having a husband pestering you every night when all you wanna do is go to sleep.’
I was nearly trembling at this revelation and struggled to keep the emotion out of my voice. ‘Did you save her letter?’
Jessie crinkled her face. ‘I probably shouldn’t have but I did. Every day after work, I think about writing back to her but then Mama comes to mind and I don’t. I guess I oughta throw it out when I get back to my room tonight before I give in to temptation.’
‘Do you remember the address?’
‘Not off-hand, but I could bring it to you next time we get together.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you a ride back to the dormitory and I could go in and get it from you this evening.’
‘Sounds all-fire important, Libby.’
I shrugged and said, ‘I just hate to see scientists behaving so badly. I’d like to report him.’
Treason in the Secret City Page 10
