by Dean Hughes
Millie smiled, but she didn’t say anything.
“Go ahead. You go first,” Sister Thomas said.
“I don’t know any bad words,” Millie told her, and she smiled. “You’ll have to teach them to me.”
“How would I know?”
“Maybe you could ask President Thomas.”
The two grinned at each other. “Certainly he wouldn’t know,” Sister Thomas said.
“Just between you and me,” Millie said, “I’ve thought some bad words lately.”
Sister Thomas laughed. “Me too,” she said. “And sometimes I think about breaking things. Maybe we could try that.”
“I thought about breaking my radio the other day when Lowell Thomas started talking about all the great young men who are willing to give their lives for freedom. It was all just a pitch to sell bonds.” Millie could have told about the song she had listened to that morning, but she rather preferred the resentment she was finally expressing.
“I know. I’m sick of these men who are too old to fight—and spend all their time waving the flag in our faces.” She smiled, slyly. “To heck with them,” she said.
“Darn them all,” Millie said.
“Could I tell you my little secret?” Sister Thomas asked.
“Sure.”
“Sometimes, when Al brings up our great family heritage, I want to scream. I’m having a hard enough time without piling a whole wagonload of perfect great-grandparents on my shoulders. Just between you and me, I’ll bet those Thomases and Snows complained and cried at times, probably even kicked their dogs. They couldn’t have been so stoic and spiritual all the time.”
“Darn the pioneers, too,” Millie said, and she laughed, her dimples showing for the first time in such a long time.
“Well, we’re on the slippery road to eternal damnation now,” Sister Thomas said. “I hate to think what we might be saying by tomorrow.”
“Maybe ‘goll darn it anyway.’”
“No, we wouldn’t go that far.”
Millie finally laughed, and then Sister Thomas gave her a hug. For no good reason, Millie actually did feel a little better, too.
***
Toward the end of Wally’s voyage, his suffering from heat turned to suffering from cold, but after sixty-two days the vessel that the men had come to call the “hell ship” docked at Port Moji on the northern end of the island of Kyushu, Japan. The decimated prisoners hobbled off the ship, many with swollen legs and feet, all of them nothing more than skin and bones. They were filthy and smelly and covered with sores; their hair and beards were tangled, full of sweat and dirt; and they were infested with lice and fleas and bedbugs. As they walked down the gangplank, the Japanese sprayed them with disinfectant.
Wally told himself that the worst must be over, that he had now passed so many hard tests that surely nothing more would be asked of him. Maybe the food would be better. The rumor was that the men would be mining coal, which didn’t sound very appealing to Wally, but surely if the prisoners were working hard, the Japanese would have to feed them well. Wally could handle that—hard work and good food.
Something in him kept saying, “No matter what’s coming, I’ll deal with it. I haven’t come this far only to be defeated.” And the conviction ran far deeper than the words themselves. This was who he was now. He might die here—he knew that—but not because he had given up.
***
Alex’s ten days with Anna were like a gift from heaven, too lovely to be real, and, unfortunately, made more valuable because he and Anna knew every second that all this would end very soon. In Windermere, they sat by the lake and looked at the dark blue water while they talked about anything but the war, or they stayed in on rainy afternoons, discovering and
loving each other.
It was all like a fantasy, a little too good to be trusted, and Alex had to tell himself every minute not to think about the future. But the war was always there, waiting for him, and a clock was running in his head. His honeymoon soon had to end. Still, not once did he regret the decision to get married. These days with Anna had been the loveliest of his life. Whatever else life gave him from this point on, he had experienced this joy here by this beautiful lake, and it was something to be thankful for forever.
***
Bobbi and Afton were at Ishi’s house on a Sunday afternoon. The kids were taking a nap before it was time to return to the church for sacrament meeting. On the radio, soft Hawaiian music was playing, and the three women, in the living room, were leaning back, Bobbi and Afton on the couch and Ishi across from them in a big upholstered chair.
“I always ruin my Sundays,” Afton said. “I love getting away from the hospital so much that the entire time I keep saying to myself, ‘This day is going too fast.’”
“I know what you mean,” Bobbi said. “I’m tired of the hospital too. Once the war is over, I plan to take a hot bath that lasts about a month and then sleep for six months.”
“There’s one big flaw in your plan,” Afton said. She stretched her legs out in front of her and slumped down lower on the couch. She was wearing no shoes, and her feet were bare. She had long since run out of hose, and there were none to be had on the island, either in nylon or rayon. Fortunately, Hawaiians didn’t worry so much about those things, but it still seemed awfully strange to her to go to church with bare legs.
“What’s the flaw?” Bobbi asked.
“The war will never end. It’s going to go on forever. We’re going to be sitting here every Sunday afternoon for the rest of our lives, talking about the great day when the war is over.”
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” Ishi said.
And of course, as Bobbi knew, the thought had painful implications for Ishi. Her husband was fighting in Italy now. His unit had been attached to the 442nd Regiment, which was all Japanese American except for most of the officers. Daniel had entered the battle late in March, although Ishi hadn’t known it for some time. His battalion had fought at the Anzio beachhead, and every day after, American newspapers had reported the unit’s remarkable progress as the men marched steadily northward, winning battles. But recently all Allied forces had bogged down at the “Arno Line,” a column of fortifications that was being treated by the Germans as a last bastion. Italy had already surrendered, but Germany was not about to let the Allies stream into southern Germany. The line was holding, and men were dying, and many of the casualties were with the “four-four-two.” Letters seemed to take forever, and any word Ishi received from Daniel was always very old. What she feared every day, like everyone else with a loved one in battle, was that a telegram would come.
“I’m jealous of you two,” Afton said.
“Jealous? Why?” Ishi asked.
“I know it’s awful for you to worry about your men. But at least you have someone coming home when it’s over. I’d rather take my chances, and worry about that, than to have absolutely nothing to look forward to.”
“You’ll have your choice of men, Afton,” Bobbi said. “When all the Johnnys come marching home, you can grab yourself the best-looking one in the parade.”
“Oh, sure. And ten other girls will grab him at the same time. We’ll rip the poor guy to pieces. You think the war is ugly, just wait until all the girls start fighting over what’s left of the boys.”
Bobbi and Ishi looked at each other and laughed, but not for long. There was a little too much truth to what Afton was saying. The war was certainly going to bring a shortage of men and lots of girls wishing they could find a husband.
“Afton,” Bobbi said, “Actually, I think you’re right. I’m glad I do have Richard to wait for. It’s the worst thing in my life, but it’s also, by far, the best. It keeps me going right now.”
“Well, thanks. I’m glad we can agree that I’m the one everybody should feel sorry for.” She smiled her wide smile and then laughed, in a burst.
“No. Let’s all feel sorry for each other—and wallow in our grief,” Bobbi said.
Ishi nodded and laughed. “We can stand in a circle and all cry on each other’s shoulders.”
But Afton said, “Bobbi, I’m proud of you. You’re handling things. I don’t think I’d do as well if I had to deal with everything you’ve been through lately—losing Gene and waiting for Richard.”
“We’d better form that circle,” Bobbi said. She didn’t want to talk about this.
“No, I’m serious.”
“Afton, the only reason I feel bad about Gene is that I’m selfish. I wanted to keep him.”
“I know. But who wouldn’t? My brothers are still in safe places, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to say that. I couldn’t deal with it if anything happened to them.”
“That’s what I used to say. But what else can I do but deal with it?”
There was no answering that, and everyone fell silent.
“I’ve got an idea,” Bobbi finally said. “I don’t think our circle is big enough. Let’s recruit every girl in the world who is sad right now, and let’s all form one big circle and bawl for each other.”
“If we’re going to do that we might as well get the moms and dads and brothers and sisters,” Afton said.
And Ishi added, “We might as well invite all the soldiers, too.”
“That’s right,” Bobbi said. “And once we all get together, there won’t be anyone left to fight the war.”
“Good idea,” Ishi said. And everyone smiled. But it actually seemed to Bobbi a perfectly good plan.
***
When Sister Thomas walked up to tuck the girls in, she found them both on their knees, next to their beds, saying their prayers. Sister Thomas waited until LaRue finished, and then she and LaRue remained silent until Beverly got up. LaRue would soon be sixteen, and she was beautiful and confident. It was Beverly who worried Sister Thomas. She was going to be thirteen in a few days, but she still seemed so very young. She was pretty, in her own way, but not so that people noticed her much, especially with LaRue around. Beverly also seemed to be struggling more than anyone since Gene’s death. Yet she said the least about it.
Sister Thomas kissed LaRue and gave her a little hug, and she pulled the light summer blanket up around her shoulders. She turned then and sat on Beverly’s bed, and she bent and kissed her, too. “Are you all right, Bev?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What’s bothering you, honey? You don’t say much these days.”
“I miss everyone,” she said. “I wish Bobbi hadn’t gone back to Hawaii.”
“I know. We all wish that. Just remember how important her work is, though.”
“For the war. Right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what we say about everything.”
“Are you getting tired of it?”
Beverly was saying more than usual, and Sister Thomas thought it had to be good for her to get some of her feelings out in the open. But Beverly didn’t answer the question. She said, “Mom, I pray for Wally every night, but I can’t remember him anymore.”
“Oh, honey. I know. It’s hard for all of us.” She bent and hugged her.
“Maybe he won’t come back. Like Gene. And I won’t ever remember him.”
Sister Thomas wanted to promise her that Wally would come home, that Alex would make it, and that they would all meet Anna. She also wanted to promise that the war would end before long and that everything would be all right again. But she couldn’t say any of those things, and she didn’t know what to say.
Beverly was gulping, obviously trying not to cry, but she said, “I prayed every night for Gene and he still got killed.”
“I know. I know,” Mom said. “But don’t stop praying. The war will end. And everything will be all right one day.”
LaRue said, “We’ll see Gene again, in heaven.”
“I don’t want to wait that long.” Beverly let go and began to cry.
Sister Thomas was thinking the same thing, and now she couldn’t hold back her own tears.
A deep voice said, “But we’ll do it, won’t we?” This, of course, was President Thomas, who had come to the door. Sister Thomas sat up and looked at him.
“Oh, Al,” she said, “we’re just crying for a minute. We can’t be strong all the time.”
President Thomas nodded. “I know,” he said, and tears filled his own eyes. He walked to the bed, got down on his knees, leaned over, and kissed Beverly on the cheek. “But, Bev, listen to me,” he said. “We’re all closer together now—no matter how spread out our family is. And that’s a good thing. Do you understand that?”
Beverly didn’t answer for quite some time. She was still crying. But when she caught her breath a little, she said, “It doesn’t feel that way to me.”
“I know. But you’ll see. When we’re together again, it will be better than ever. And Gene will be with us. You’ll feel that too. Can you trust me on that?”
“Do you trust him, Mom?” Beverly asked, and now she was getting control, even trying to smile.
Sister Thomas laughed. “I do, Bev,” she said. “He tests my limits sometimes, but he seems to know what he’s talking about—most of the time.”
LaRue said, “He told me if I waited to date until I was sixteen, I’d be proud of myself. And I’m not.”
“You aren’t sixteen yet,” Dad said, and he laughed.
“You told me I’d like that Spam stuff,” Beverly said, “and I hate it.”
Everyone laughed. “Well, I may not be a great expert on Spam,” he said. “But I know our family, and we’re going to be all right. That’s an absolute promise.”
Beverly nodded. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll believe you.”
Author’s Note
For the past few years I have steeped myself in the history of the World War II years. I didn’t think of the research as a quest to find my roots, but that, in part, is what it turned out to be. I was born during the war, and acquiring a feel for that time has helped me understand my parents and the atmosphere that existed when I was a child. I feel that I’ve caught a glimpse of the time and place I came from. I’m not alone, either. A great deal changed in the forties, and we all inherited an altered world. World War II was a testing time, and there’s something for us to learn by looking at a family (even if it’s a fictional one) that found the faith to pass the test.
Since I published the first volume of the series Rumors of War, people have asked me about my sources of information. The characters and the story, of course, come mostly from my imagination. What is historical in these books is the setting: the war itself, the effects on home front life, the changes in society, the influence on the LDS Church, and so on. When I provide that kind of information, I try to be strictly accurate. I do not “fictionalize” the history itself. For example, during the D day invasion, the particular experiences of Alex Thomas are my creation: his reactions, thoughts, words. All the background, however, is factual. The paratroopers really were scattered over the Cotentin Peninsula, and very few actually landed in their assigned drop zones. Because I didn’t fight in Normandy myself, I am careful not to push my imagination too far. When I describe a battle, for instance, I base it on actual battles that I have studied in history books or in personal memoirs.
For those who would like to learn more about the war and the time, let me suggest some of the books that have been most helpful to me. An expansive general history is probably the best way to begin. William L. Shirer’s classic work, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich (Simon and Schuster, 1960), is very important, but there are more recent histories that benefit from newly available sources and that study all the war fronts. Perhaps the best of these is A World at Arms: A Global History of World War II (Cambridge University Press, 1994), by Gerhard L. Weinberg. A good almanac of the war is also useful for a chronology of events and a broad scope of factual information. I used The World Almanac of World War II (revised), edited by Brigadier Peter Young (Bison Books, 1986). There are also several illustrated histori
es of the war, which add another dimension to one’s feel for the time. The one I found helpful was The World at Arms: The Reader’s Digest Illustrated History of World War II (Reader’s Digest, 1989).
There are many books about D day, but by far the best is Stephen E. Ambrose’s D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II (Simon and Schuster, 1994). In describing Alex’s experiences, I followed the history of Company E, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division. The best source for that history is in another Stephen Ambrose book: Band of Brothers (Simon and Schuster, 1992). On D day a small group of men from E Company did actually defeat an entire platoon of German soldiers and destroy four 105mm guns, much the way it happens in this book. I learned added details about basic training for airborne troops from The Making of a Paratrooper (University Press of Kansas, 1990), a memoir written by Kurt Gabel.
For United States military history, an excellent book is There’s a War to Be Won: The United States Army in World War II (Ballantine Books, 1991), by Geoffrey Perret. To understand battle methods, I used Closing with the Enemy (University Press of Kansas, 1994), by Michael Doubler. To learn about the operation and techniques of the German military, the most thorough book is Matthew Cooper’s The German Army, 1933–1945 (Stein and Day, 1978). I’m also obligated to my friend Richard Jeppesen, a retired marine officer, who read my manuscript and advised me on the accuracy of my military facts.
There are many books that deal with Nazis and the holocaust. The ones I found most useful were The War against the Jews, 1933–1945 (Holt, 1975), by Lucy S. Dawidowicz; Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust (Knopf, 1996), by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen; and Gestapo: Instrument of Tyranny (Da Capo Press, 1994), by Edward Crankshaw.
Saburo Ienega’s The Pacific War, 1931–1945 (Random House, 1978) explains the point of view of the Japanese and their leaders. War without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War (Random House, 1986), by John W. Dower, is a disturbing but balanced look at racist attitudes on both sides of the conflict.
