“So did you major in American Literature in college, Sergeant?” Bett asked, her most personal question of the night.
She watched as Rains’s face took on a wary, more focused expression. “No, I didn’t.” Her drill instructor stopped walking, looking around as if just becoming conscious of where she was. “That will be all, Private.”
“Sergeant Rains.” Bett smiled and stepped closer, putting her hand on Rains’s arm again. Rains stood very still. “I feel that I’m indebted to you again, for your time and your most stimulating conversation.”
The sergeant stepped back, away from Bett’s touch. “I have done you a disservice, Private. KP is not supposed to be enjoyed. You are supposed to be learning from your mistakes.”
Rains’s face was so serious that Bett couldn’t help laughing. “But I have learned, Sergeant. I’ll never think of Huckleberry Finn in quite the same way again.”
Rains shook her head, turned abruptly, and walked away without another word.
*
Rains was annoyed with herself. At the parade grounds she began running laps, trying to think through what had happened. You were supposed to tighten up, not spend all evening talking to her, Rains scolded. You are not her classmate, you are her sergeant. She knew the blame lay with herself and not with Private Smythe. Smythe just wanted to pass the time. What Rains could not understand was how she could have let the whole evening go by in conversation and never once have thought about leaving. Perhaps they were developing a level of mutual respect between them; she had readily acknowledged Smythe’s intelligence, but now Smythe seemed to be genuinely interested in her thoughts and opinions as well. Rains wasn’t usually swayed by such attentiveness, though in this case it seemed to be paying off in Smythe’s improved attitude toward Army protocol.
In the years that she had been a sergeant, Rains had learned the importance of dividing herself evenly among her recruits. It was important to be fair, to be objective, and to be impartial. Even though Smythe was the squad leader, if any of the other girls suspected favoritism or that she was getting any special treatment, it could destroy the balance of camaraderie Rains always strove for with her groups. She thought about having Webber take Private Smythe to her duty tomorrow, but what reason would she give? You’ll just take her to her KP and leave, Rains told herself. Don’t come back to check on her. She knows the routine now. She ran two more laps, trying to get the sound of Smythe’s voice out of her mind. She wasn’t particularly successful.
*
Bett was having trouble falling asleep, even though she was tired from KP and the long day. She kept thinking of things Sergeant Rains had said, finding little hints of her personality from their conversation. Clearly she favored the underdog in any situation. Several times Bett had started to bring up Rains’s supposed Indian background thinking that it might lead to more discussion, but after the way Rains had reacted to her question about college, she was glad she hadn’t been any more personal. Bett wondered if it was the Army that had made her sergeant so closed off, or if it was just her character. She speculated whether Rains’s apparent aversion to being touched was part of that character as well.
The door to the barracks opened quietly. Bett’s heart accelerated to an unexpected tempo. She was facing away from the door, so Rains didn’t appear in her vision until after she had passed her bunk. She watched as the sergeant looked briefly over the sleeping forms and made her way back. Bett kept her eyes open, and when Rains made eye contact, Bett smiled. Rains didn’t, but then she never did.
“You should already be asleep, Private,” she said softly.
The sergeant was carrying her shirt; she was only wearing a sleeveless undershirt which clung tightly to her trim form and there was a sheen on her face and arms. When Bett raised herself on her elbow, she could clearly detect the outline of Rains’s small breasts. After swallowing that observation away as quietly as possible, she whispered, “Why are you all sweaty? Don’t tell me you have potato fever or some such.”
There might have been another brief turning at the corner of Rains’s mouth, but her voice was quiet. “I’ve been running. Now lie down before you wake everyone else up.”
“Why are you running in the middle of the night?” Bett asked, lying back obediently.
“Go to sleep, Private Smythe.” Rain walked toward the door.
Bett turned over to follow her, still whispering. “Can we talk about transcendentalism tomorrow night?”
Rains stopped and turned back. “No, Private. Our literary salon will give way to your solo KP duty from now on.”
Bett stopped smiling. “Is that what you decided on your run?”
Sergeant Rains leaned closer to her bed, her whisper a little more severe. “That is the way it’s supposed to be, Private. It was my error to let our mutual interests lure me into excessive conversation with you. It won’t happen again.”
They both looked down as Jo muttered something in her sleep and turned over on the bunk below Bett. When Bett looked back up, Rains was going out the door.
*
Bett didn’t say a word the next night as Sergeant Rains escorted her to the door of the mess hall. Good, Rains thought, this would be easier than arguing with her. There were no potatoes in the little room in the back. “Wait here, Private,” Rains said.
Bett stood at ease.
“Trash only tonight,” Rains said when she returned, leading Bett back into the main hall. She pointed at the various overflowing barrels. “Just police the tables, then dump these in the container outside, and you’re done.” Bett acknowledged the information with a short nod, but didn’t answer. “Private Smythe,” Rains said tersely, tiring of the silent treatment, “you should understand that I meant nothing personal last night. But I have a job to do and so do you. That is the reason we are here.”
Bett’s eyes flashed. “Oh yes, Sergeant. I understand completely. Another round of excessive conversation from you could cost us the war.” She began dragging one of the heavy barrels toward the door.
Once again, Bett’s sharp wit made Rains want to smile. Instead, she stepped over and took the other side of the barrel.
Bett’s head snapped up. “I don’t need your help, Sergeant.”
“I know, I know,” Rains answered, her voice somewhat more sociable than usual. “What you need is a conversation about transcendentalism.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Sergeant. What I need is to finish this stupid KP and for my training on wireless coding to come up so I can get on with my life away from this bloody place.”
They dumped the barrel in silence. “I’ll leave you to it then, Private,” Rains said, her voice flat as she walked away.
Five minutes later, Bett wasn’t sure who she was more upset with, Rains or herself. She hadn’t meant to be so ill-tempered but the sergeant’s presumption and her self-possessed manner had just rubbed her the wrong way at that moment. She wondered if anything ever ruffled Rains’s calm. She wasn’t surprised when the sergeant wasn’t around the mess hall as she walked back toward the barracks after finishing her duty, so she detoured by the track on the parade grounds, in case Rains was out running. She wasn’t. When Bett arrived at the barracks, Sergeant Rains was there, talking with Helen and Tee. As their eyes met, Rains stood and signaled her over.
“Private Smythe, I believe Private Tucker and Private Owens would appreciate some assistance with the assignments from their classes.” Helen and Tee were both nodding. “There may be others who will join you. This will be your duty for the next two weeks, understood?”
Bett looked up at Rains doubtfully. “You mean instead of KP?”
“Yes, Private. I believe your skills could be put to better use here.” Rains had been nodding at Owens and Tucker, and now she looked down at Bett. “Unless you have some objection.”
Bett tried, but Rains’s expression was impossible to read. “None that come to mind, Sergeant.”
“Good. I’ll alert the kitchen.” Rains started o
ut and then stopped. “And your wireless class will be coming up in two weeks, Private Smythe.”
Bett dropped her eyes. “Thank you, Sergeant.” When will I ever learn to mind my mouth?
As Rains walked by, Jo called out from her bunk, “What’s the play, Sarge?” The two of them often spoke in some kind of baseball language that Bett kept trying to understand.
“Turning two, Archer,” Rains responded. Archer laughed as she always did.
*
Their days settled into routine, the framework for Army life. After a few days, Bett no longer panicked when bright lights shone into the barracks windows and the first bugle call sounded at five forty-five a.m. Some days she would actually drowse until the cannon went off at six, when the flag went up and the band began to play. Like the rest of her squad mates, she learned how to be fully dressed in the fifteen minutes they had before reporting for roll call. After breakfast, they had another hour to clean up and organize themselves and their belongings before beginning a variety of exercises, drills, classes, and lectures that lasted the rest of the day. There was another company muster before dinner for a ceremony called Retreat, where the flag was lowered and the WAC band played the national anthem, followed by evening mess at five p.m. Undoubtedly, their new schedule was quite an adjustment for everyone, whether it was dealing with the ten-to-one bathroom ratio for only child Phyllis or the novelty of eating dinner at five p.m.
Sometimes there were additional lectures or meetings after the evening meal, but frequently they had that time to themselves, unless there were assignments from the day’s classes or drills that needed to be practiced, which was often the case. Lights had to be out by nine thirty, but Bett, like many others, procured a good flashlight and would often continue to write letters, study, or read well after that time. At ten forty-five, Sergeant Rains, or occasionally one of the other sergeants, would come through for the last official bed check of the evening. If someone was not in their bunk, it was stressed, the MPs would be called.
Sergeant Rains conducted the morning exercises for the entire base, along with physical drills for each platoon. By the end of their basic training, all recruits had to demonstrate a certain level of fitness, which she would evaluate. The morning and afternoon classes were conducted by other specialists and were designed to help inform the recruits about different jobs that were available to them and to determine the ones for which they were best suited.
Since Bett had already made up her mind to work on the new wireless encoding machine, she was just biding her time. When she had expressed her interest in the recruiting office before signing up, she had been warned that her choice of specialty was the most difficult to get into. According to Maria, who had a distant cousin in the administrative office, the cryptography division hadn’t taken anyone new for the last three rotations. Even so, Bett wasn’t worried. From Kent Prep to Oxford, she had never failed to be chosen for something that she’d worked for. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew this drive for success was something she had gotten from her father.
Partly out of respect for Sergeant Rains and partly to avoid jeopardizing her chance at the wireless group by being labeled an agitator, she did manage to keep her opinions to herself and found that some of the lectures, like those on meteorology and photography, were actually quite enlightening. She felt herself settling in and began to feel sure she would be able to stick it out—to complete her basic training and prove to her family, if not herself, that she could do it. And she still had a score to settle with Herr Hitler.
In many ways, Army life reminded Bett of her boarding school days. Helen and Tee continued to struggle with some of the lessons and Bett was genuinely glad that Sergeant Rains had assigned her to help them. Bett enjoyed the process of education, although she had to work not to show her dismay at how far behind the girls were sometimes. She quickly determined that their deficiencies were not caused by lack of intellect, but because each of them had regularly missed long stretches of school when they were needed at home. Occasionally some of the other girls would sit in, usually Maria or even Jo. Bett kept the sessions informal enough that anyone felt welcome.
Bett thought that most of the members of her new family were really quite charming. There was none of the snobbishness and competition that there had been at Kent or Oxford. Only Irene Dodd remained aloof. She seemed unwilling or unable to find her place in the squad. The rest of them all seemed to take Rains’s comments from that first day to heart, and they quickly learned how to steer clear of someone who was grumpy in the morning (Charlotte), how to keep their voices quieter after the first one went to bed (Jo), and who wrote letters home every day (Barb). Bett often saw Rains talking individually after drills with Tee, who was homesick, or running laps with Helen, to help her control her temper. And Bett acknowledged that Rains appealed to her intellect to help her fall into line. But not exclusively so, she thought, remembering Rains’s calming touch and soothing voice when Bett had been in the throes of her claustrophobia.
Their sergeant’s firm, even presence was a steadying influence on them all. Rains was the type who led by example, Bett concluded, watching her sergeant during morning exercise as their first full week was coming to a close. Sergeant Moore had returned to the base earlier than expected and her new squad had followed them onto the parade grounds that day, most of them cringing at her words and her tone. I believe Rains genuinely wants us to be successful here, Bett mused, and not just because it looks good for her. Her leadership is not based on fear; it works because she respects us as much as we respect her.
*
That mutual respect grew even more the next Friday night as most of the girls were dressing for a trip to the NCO club for a special dinner. It was Maria’s birthday and they were ready for an excuse to celebrate, or at least blow off some steam from the demands of their second week in basic training. Escorts had been arranged and even though Bett was scheduled to have her first squad leader meeting with Sergeant Rains that afternoon, she had promised to meet everyone there as soon as she was free. As the squad members were getting into their dress uniforms, Maria suddenly gave a sharp cry. “My grandmother’s brooch. It’s missing! My mother let me bring it for good luck and now it’s gone.”
Barb and Charlotte reacted first, gathering at Maria’s footlocker. “Where did you have it? When did you see it last?” Their help with the search turned up nothing. In the meantime, Bett checked her locker. One of her rings was also missing, but Maria’s tears made her wait to say anything.
“I’ll go get Sergeant Rains,” Irene Dodd offered, starting toward the door. Both Jo and Bett looked at her in surprise, as she had never volunteered for anything before. Then Jo turned a worried eye back to Bett.
Catching Jo’s meaning, Bett acted instinctively as their squad leader. “No,” she said firmly, and then added, “thank you, Irene, but I think Maria should go. She’s the one who has suffered the loss so it would be less suspicious than if any of us left.”
Irene frowned but couldn’t seem to think of a reply. She slouched back to her bunk. Bett looked at Jo and then shifted her eyes in Dodd’s direction, and Archer nodded, moving to a position where she could watch the older woman without being obvious. Irene looked around and then made a show of looking through her locker like most of the other girls were doing, as if checking to see if anything of hers was missing. When Maria returned with Sergeant Rains, the squad was shocked into silence upon seeing Sergeant Moore accompanying them.
The two sergeants stood stiffly at the doorway. “The Army takes matters like this very seriously,” Rains stated, her expression grim. “Someone who steals from one of her sisters is not welcome in the WAC. We are going to make sure that the thief is no one from this squad before we expand our investigation.” She glanced at Sergeant Moore who barked out, “Get out your bathrobes, ladies. Strip and put them on. You’ll assemble in the latrine under Sergeant Rains’s guard while I search your belongings for the missing item.” The squad membe
rs stood in shock until Moore yelled, “Now!” Then everyone began to move at once as Sergeant Rains walked toward the rear of the barracks, where the bathroom was located. She faced away from the girls as they changed, listening to Moore as she moved among them, insisting, “Move it. I said strip, ladies. That means naked, understand? Come on, honey, we don’t have all night. Hurry up, hurry up—don’t be so modest, you. Nobody cares what you’ve got under that robe. Let’s go.”
Rains turned back to face them as they began walking past her in single file into the lavatory area. Her eyes swept carefully over each one, as if gauging their responses. As Irene Dodd approached, Rains ordered, “Halt.”
Bett, who was behind Dodd, winced, remembering when she had heard that tone before. Dodd’s eyes didn’t seem to settle.
“You need to empty your robe pocket, Private Dodd,” the sergeant demanded, holding out the palm of her hand.
Private Dodd’s hand moved as if to comply but instead she swung a clenched fist in the direction of Rains’s head. Rains’s movement was so quick it was almost imperceptible. In one motion she dodged the punch and maneuvered behind Dodd, her own forearm pushing Irene’s head against the barracks wall hard enough that the woman’s face was distorted. The arm that had been swinging at Rains’s face was caught in the grasp of Rain’s other hand, twisted so tightly behind her back that she screamed out in pain. The whole squad gasped, and Bett caught a glimpse of something very fierce in Rains’s eyes before Sergeant Moore ordered them all back to their bunks, out of the way.
As Moore retrieved a brooch and a ring from Dodd’s pocket, she advised, “You’d best apologize to your sergeant, Dodd, unless you want to go home with a other-than-honorable discharge and a broken arm.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Irene Dodd managed to squeeze out from her pursed lips, followed by a groan of pain as she continued to struggle.
Basic Training of the Heart Page 7
