by Dean Hughes
Bobbi took the letter to church with her that Sunday. She shared her news with Ishi and with Sister Nuanunu. After sacrament meeting, everyone wanted to talk to her. “So I hear you and Brother Hammond are going to get married,” Brother Nuanunu told her, and he grabbed her in his big arms and hugged her.
“Where did you hear that? The letter said nothing about it.”
“My wife said he wants to talk to you when he gets here. We know what that means.” He laughed in his big, mellow voice.
Others were coming. Everyone wanted to hear about Richard, what his injuries were. They had all felt Bobbi’s gloom during those weeks when he had been missing, and the telegram had brought enormous joy to everyone. Now they were hoping that he was well. Every family in the ward had been affected in some way by the war, and there were so many sad stories. When something turned out right, it was something to celebrate. Even the haoles in the ward had learned from the locals to extract all the joy they could from good news.
But Bobbi felt strange about all this enthusiasm. What if Richard made it to Hawaii and the members talked to him the same way? Would he think Bobbi had made false claims? She told Ishi about her worries, but Ishi only said, “Richard knows you better than that. You always worry too much, Bobbi.”
“You worry as much as I do,” Bobbi told her.
“I know. But I still have good reasons.”
Bobbi knew what she meant. Ishi hadn’t had any letters from Daniel for a couple of weeks, which wasn’t unusual but was always a concern. Bobbi had read about the “four-four-two” in the newspapers, the bloody battles they kept getting involved in. She knew there really was plenty to be worried about–and she pitied Ishi. At least Richard was out of danger, however badly he might be injured.
Afton was going to dinner that afternoon with the Nuanunus, as she usually did these days. In recent months, military policy had changed, and nurses were allowed to marry, but there was no way for Afton to leave the navy until the war was over. A marriage date was still up in the air, mainly because Afton was hoping to receive the blessing of her family. She had mentioned Sam, very carefully, to her parents, but hadn’t hinted yet that she was serious about him.
Bobbi was also committed to the navy for the duration, but there was now a new complication. She had volunteered to serve on a hospital ship, and her paperwork was in process. Lieutenant Karras claimed it was too late to cancel the transfer. Bobbi could be the one at sea before long, with Richard home, waiting.
Bobbi and Ishi, with Lily and David, were on the bus, on the way to Ishi’s house. “There’s one thing I am still worried about,” Bobbi told Ishi. “I don’t know how bad Richard’s hands are, and I don’t know what he’s feeling about that. His letter was so reserved and careful. It sounded like he wanted to hide his feelings.”
“What if his hands are really bad?” Ishi asked. “Would that make a difference to you?”
“I’d feel bad for him, Ishi. Of course. But I thought he was dead, and now I have him back. How could I complain about some scars?”
“But what if it’s more than scars? What if he’s crippled for life?”
“We can deal with that–together.”
“I think that’s true, Bobbi, but I’ve seen men come home badly wounded, and their wives haven’t stayed with them. Maybe sometimes the man is changed so much–and bitter–that you can understand why it happens.”
“But look how many girls don’t even stay true to their husbands while they’re gone to war,” Bobbi said. “I’m not going to abandon Richard just because he’s injured; that’s not the problem.”
“What do you mean? What problem?”
Bobbi glanced at the children. David was standing up in his seat, leaning against the window and looking outside, but Lily was listening intently to Bobbi and her mother. Bobbi chose her words carefully. “I just don’t know what it will be like when we see each other. We only knew each other such a short time. And now his letter seems so distant. What I want is just to love him and help him heal, but I’m not sure that’s what he wants from me. Maybe he regrets the things he told me before.”
“I don’t think so, Bobbi. I think you’ll both know how you feel when you see each other.”
“I hope so.”
The week that followed seemed long and slow, and every day Bobbi hoped for another letter from Richard. She wrote him each day, and she tried to make him feel that nothing had changed for her. But she heard nothing more, and she had no idea what that meant.
On Thursday morning Bobbi was doing some paperwork at the nurse’s station, outside the burn ward. “We’re getting some more patients in today,” one of the nurses said. “I don’t know where we’re going to put them.”
Bobbi wondered the same thing, but she didn’t give the problem any further thought. She made her rounds and was busy for the next couple of hours. She was carrying a basin of water and using her backside to push back the swinging door to the ward when she saw a little collection of men coming down the hallway, some being pushed in wheelchairs, others walking. She noticed a tall man among them, walking upright and holding his hands, which were wrapped in bandages, folded across his chest. And then she realized. “Richard!” she whispered.
He saw her at the same time, and he stepped outside the group–but he didn’t hurry to her. Bobbi set down the basin and took a couple of quick steps, and then she slowed. She didn’t want to make a scene, and she sensed that Richard didn’t want that either. She saw a look on his face that seemed closer to alarm than joy, and she didn’t know what to make of it. She stopped in front of him and waited to see what he would do.
Her breath held as he looked at her. She knew his reserve, knew how private he was. At the same time, she also knew what she was feeling. What she remembered, felt again, was his goodness. And then he reached for her with those big, bandaged hands. She stepped to him, and he took her in his arms.
Bobbi began to cry. She felt as though she were being swallowed whole. It was too wonderful to believe that he was finally there, that he was actually holding her. She felt him crying too, felt his breath on her hair. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again,” he whispered.
Bobbi had so many things she wanted to tell him, but she was crying too hard. It took her at least a minute to realize that the people in the hall had all stopped and were watching. Some of her friends had begun to gather round. She finally pulled away enough to look at him again. She saw how gaunt he looked, and she sensed that he had been through a much worse ordeal than he had admitted in his letter.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He didn’t seem to know what to say. He pulled his arms back to his chest, as though the bandages had grown heavy–or his hands were hurting. “We need to talk,” he said.
“I know. I’ll make sure we get some time before the day is over.” She still hadn’t kissed him, and she wanted to, but she could see how self-conscious he was. He had come off the hospital ship in pajamas, a robe, and slippers, and now he was in the center of a little crowd.
Bobbi turned to her friends and said, “I’ll introduce you all later. Right now, these poor guys need to get located somewhere.”
“Oh, sure. You just want to get him alone,” her friend Iris said. But everyone stepped out of the way and let him go. Bobbi did hear one of the nurses say, “He is so good-looking.”
Richard had to be processed, and he ended up in one of the crowded rooms in the burn ward. After that, a doctor removed his bandages and had a look at his hands. Bobbi knew that, but she wasn’t there–knew that Richard didn’t want her to be. But it was a horribly long day, and it was only at the end of her shift that she finally went to Richard and said, “You have permission to go for a little walk, but you’ll need a nurse to go along. I could do that–unless you’ve seen another nurse you like better.”
He smiled a little but didn’t joke with her. He only got off his bed. He looked toward his robe, hanging on a hook on the wall, and Bobbi quickl
y got it for him and helped him get it on. Then, as the two walked from the room, they listened to the inevitable teasing. “I never get treatment like that around here,” one of the men called out. “What’s the lieutenant got that I ain’t got?” Obviously the word had gotten around.
Bobbi took Richard outside to the bench where she and Gene had once sat. When Richard sat down next to her, Bobbi hoped he would put his arms around her again, maybe kiss her, but by now she could see that he was holding back. And so she asked again, “Richard, are you all right?”
“Sure . . . but. . .” He took a deep breath.
“What? Just tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking a lot of things, Bobbi. I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start anywhere.”
He nodded, but then he sat for quite some time before he said, “The doctor told me he wasn’t sure he could save my left hand. He’s going to keep me here for a while and maybe do some surgery. But he might send me on to Brigham City–of all places. I guess they have a hospital there that specializes in amputations. If they have to take it off, he said that’s the best place to have it done.”
“What about your other hand?”
“It’s a little better. It . . .” Richard hesitated. “See, when I went into the water–when my ship went down–I made it to a lifeboat, and we reached an island in the Philippines. But the islands were still held by the Japanese, at least for the most part, and we had to stay in the jungle for a long time. My hands were burned bad, and there wasn’t one thing we could do about it. I guess some of the tendons have locked up, and the scar tissue is really bad. Once they cut away at me for a while, they’ll have a better idea how much movement I’ll have. But I probably moved my right hand more than my left, and so that one stayed in a little better shape.”
“How did you finally get out of the Philippines?”
“One of our guys walked a long way, worked his way through the jungle, and made contact with our troops. A boat came after us after that, and then we got put on a hospital ship. But I was on that island for almost three weeks, and then on the ship for most of another week. The navy didn’t get word to my family until I reached Guam.”
“You were in a lot of pain all the time, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I was. We didn’t have much to eat, either. And we didn’t know how long we might be there–or whether the Japs would find us. I wouldn’t want to go through any of that again.”
“But you made it, Richard. That’s all I prayed for, for a long time. And then I gave up. But the Lord brought you back to me.”
Again she saw the look she had noticed that morning, that hint of alarm. “Bobbi, I don’t know what to say about the future right now. I need to find out what’s going to happen to me.”
“The worst thing that could happen is that you would lose a hand. That’s better than losing your life.”
“I guess. I’m just having a little trouble looking at it that way. I’m starting to realize all the things I won’t be able to do. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Of course I do. But Richard, I see men in here every day who are burned so much worse than you are. I see men with their faces burned, their eyes gone, their feet burned off, their lungs ruined. It’s hard to lose a hand, but think how much worse it could have been.”
Richard nodded. “I know. I’m not ungrateful. But I don’t know what my life is going to be like now. I don’t know what I’m going to do. And, well . . . I’m not sure how you’ll feel about everything.”
“Oh, Richard, how could that matter to me now? I love you.”
Tears spilled onto his cheeks. “Bobbi, that helps me a lot. I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Richard, men are so stupid, I sometimes wonder how they manage to get their own pants on in the morning.”
He smiled at that, and then he finally took her in his arms, and this time he kissed her. But he didn’t say a word about a future together, and that concerned Bobbi. She could feel that he was still holding back.
***
Early one morning, on a cold January day, Wally got called to the parade ground. He and the other prisoners lined up in the usual roll-call formation. But something was different. It was earlier than usual, and the man who stepped to the front of the formation was the ranking American officer, a colonel named Guthrie. Wally was tired, but he always hoped that a change from the usual routine was an indication of good news, so he waited anxiously as the men fell in.
Colonel Guthrie called the POWs to attention, and then he told them, “At ease.” Wally couldn’t see him very well, out there in the dark, but he heard how upbeat his voice was when he said, “Men, all the officers in this camp are being transferred to another prison. We don’t know why, and we don’t know where we’re going. But the promise has been that our conditions will improve. I know that doesn’t seem fair, and I’m not telling you it is, but I do want you to think about what this might mean.” He hesitated and then said, slowly and thoughtfully, “If the Japanese are starting to concern themselves with the conditions of their prisoners, maybe they’re also starting to think this war could end before long.”
A little ripple of approval went through the formation, men agreeing, saying, “That’s right.”
“We see the bombers go over sometimes, but civilians also tell us that this country is taking a terrible beating. Some say there is little left of Tokyo. Here’s what I say. We told you on Christmas day that ’45 was going to be our year. Now I’m telling you that it’s coming true. Keep up your spirits. Carry on the way you have–with hope. This is the year we’ve been waiting for!”
Suddenly the men were cheering and jumping up and down, slapping each other on the back. They knew the guards would not like that. Some men might well take a beating for it. But it didn’t matter. It felt great to let go.
Chuck grabbed hold of Wally. “Let’s get dates and go dancing at Saltair this summer. How about it?”
What a thought. Wally wondered whether he still knew how to dance. “We need to put on a little weight if we want any girls to go out with us,” he told Chuck, and they both laughed.
“I’ll tell you what. That’s a project I’d be happy to work on. You give me enough food, and I’ll bet I could fill out real fast.”
That was an even better thought: all the good food he could eat. And maybe it really was coming before long. Wally wanted to think so. All that day, as he worked in the mine, he imagined his arrival home. He tried to picture his family, how they had changed, how they would react to his return. And he also thought of Lorraine. She probably had a couple of kids by now; he knew that. But he still liked picturing her, imagining what it would be like to dance with her, or at least with someone that beautiful, that good.
But those thoughts brought back worries about himself. He could gain back the weight, get his strength back in time, and maybe have fairly normal health. What he didn’t know was how a really lovely girl would feel about him. He had grown in some ways, and improved; he knew that. But he wondered how distorted he was, wondered how much resentment he would carry with him. And how would it show itself? Maybe a nice young woman would sense the rage that was stored in his heart and avoid him. Maybe that’s exactly what she should do.
***
Peter had been walking most of the day, every day, since he had escaped the hospital in East Prussia. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he walked with refugees, and they said they were heading toward Berlin. Eventually he would take another route, head farther south, and see whether he could cross into Switzerland more easily these days. Or maybe France. Maybe he could surrender to Americans, or British, and then try to find out where his family was. But for now, he had to keep walking, as much as anything, to stay warm.
He sometimes saw German military police along the route. They were watching for soldiers on the run, and he wondered why none of these police ever stopped him. The sling around his neck, with Hans’s blood on it, hardl
y seemed enough disguise, but Peter was well aware of what he looked like. He had lost so much weight that there was hardly anything left of him. His uniform was filthy, and if his eyes looked as dead as he felt inside, he must have seemed little more than a specter.
And yet Peter was more alive than he had been for a long time. There was an ember of hope in him. He thought he might live now, might actually survive this war. He believed that he had sinned, that he had done terrible wrongs, and he wondered whether he could ever forgive himself, let alone find forgiveness from his Father in Heaven. But in Memel, God seemed to have plucked him from an impossible trap, from certain death. Maybe it was wrong to think so, but it seemed as though God still loved him in spite of everything.
Something else was happening too. From time to time, he would discover himself filled with a feeling he hardly knew how to describe: comfort or solace, even strength. He didn’t know whether it was from God, or what it was, but it sustained him, and it made him feel that his family would accept him, even though he had fought for the enemy.
He slept in haystacks when he could, and once in a barn, but most nights he camped with refugees, who built little fires and sometimes had makeshift tents they were carrying along. He could usually move faster than these people, so he rarely joined the same group twice–but that was best. He wanted no one to know him, to learn any of his secrets. He would stay on the run the rest of the war if he had to, and hope that the chaos would give him cover. If someone chose to shoot him, he would accept death, which was not nearly as frightening as he had once considered it to be. But he would never kill again.
***
Heinrich Stoltz was still working in the bakery in Karlsruhe. Not far away, in the Ardennes Forest, the Germans were being torn up and driven back across the border into Germany. It couldn’t be long now before the Allied forces broke through the Siegfried Line, crossed the Rhine, and pushed toward Berlin. He had made up his mind that he was going to help them do it, too. He had made contact with members of a resistance group, and he had promised his help.
