Fire and Steel, Volume 6

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Keep it moving, folks,” the conductor shouted over the noise. “Make way for those boarding.” Which looked like it might be all of two or three people. Then he tipped his head back and called out even louder. “All aboard for Salt Lake City. All aboard.”

  Mitch and Edie Westland had come out of the crowd to join them. “Guten tag!” Mitch said, extending his hand. “You must be Alemann.”

  Alemann set down his bags and they shook hands firmly. Edie moved up beside her husband. Jo and Abby hurried over, and Jo quickly introduced everyone. All of them spoke English to one degree or another, but knowing that Mitch, Edie, and Abby were fluent in German, Jo stuck to their native language.

  As she finished and everyone shook hands and Edie embraced Richelle and the four girls, Jo looked around. “And where is Benji?”

  “Yes!” Lisa was up on her toes, scanning the crowd.

  The three Westlands froze, staring first at Jo and then at Lisa. Then Edie came forward and took both of Lisa’s hands. “Oh, Lisa,” she cried. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”

  “My mother? Tell me what?”

  “Benji wrote us both letters from California and sent them off about the end of July. You didn’t get yours?”

  “No. The last letter I received from him was one he wrote from Kansas as he and Mose were heading west again.” Then she gasped. “Oh no! The first of July was when our family and the Zeidners fled to Switzerland.”

  “Yes, I know,” Edie nodded. “That’s what your mother said. I talked to her when she and your father got back home to Munich. She said that you had a letter from Benji waiting for you. You were still on the boat at that point, so she forwarded it to Boston.”

  Richelle gave a low cry of dismay. “Oh, dear. We were only in Boston for two nights. We never heard from Emilee.”

  Lisa was suddenly cold all through her body. “And what did this letter say?”

  Mitch came over now to stand beside Edie. “It was not good news, Lisa. It was pretty upsetting for all of us.” He looked at Jo. “You remember his friend, Mose? You met him last year.”

  “Ja, ja. I remember him well.”

  “Well, shortly after they arrived in California, Mose was shot and killed by some railroad guards.”

  The others all gasped. Jo’s hand flew up to her mouth as her face drained of color. “Benji was lucky that he wasn’t killed too,” Mitch went on. “They roughed him up pretty badly, then threw him in jail. They took everything he had, including his money.”

  “Jail?” Lisa was aghast. “How badly was he hurt?”

  “Nothing critical. But he was crushed by Mose’s death. He blamed himself. Mose left a wife and six children back in Georgia.”

  “But why didn’t he come back home then?” Alemann asked.

  “I think he was in shock,” Edie said. “His letter made all of us weep. He said that he had failed at everything he had tried and that he had gotten Mose killed. But he said that he had found a job where he could finally earn some steady money and maybe turn things around.”

  “So he’s in California?” Lisa cried.

  Edie stepped forward and pulled Lisa into her arms. “Oh, my dear, dear Lisa. He’s not in California.”

  “Where is he, then? Will he be coming home before we have to return to Germany?”

  As Edie shook her head, too stricken to speak, Abby came up and joined them. Tears were in her eyes as she pressed her forehead against Lisa’s. “Benji’s not coming home, Lisa. He’s on his way to China.”

  August 8, 1934, 7:12 a.m.—EDW Ranch

  When Lisa walked into the kitchen, Edie Westland and her daughter-in-law June were near the stove starting preparations for breakfast. They turned as she came through the door. “My goodness, Lisa,” Edie said. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early. It was past midnight when Mitch and I went to bed, and you were still talking with your parents on the phone.”

  Lisa yawned, then smiled. “I guess I’m still too excited to sleep.”

  “And how are your parents doing?” June asked.

  “Fine. Except that Mama and Oma Inga are both homesick.”

  It seemed like an odd thing to say. “Because they miss you girls?” Edie asked.

  Lisa pulled a face. “No. Well, maybe a little. But they’re sad because they’re not here. They’re homesick for Utah. They said to give all of you their best and tell you how much they wish they were here too.”

  “As do we,” Edie said fervently. “Are the other girls still asleep?”

  “Yes. When I got up, no one even stirred. Can I help with breakfast?”

  June shook her head. “If the others are still asleep, we’ll push breakfast back.”

  “I saw that the Zeidners’ bedroom door was open,” Lisa commented. “Are they up?”

  “Yes,” Edie said. “Mitch and MJ took them for a horseback ride. It’s a beautiful morning out there.” Then she motioned toward the table. “Come, sit down, Lisa. Let’s just talk.”

  June removed her apron and hung it on a hook. “My kids will be waking up about now too, so I’d better get up there and see to them.”

  Lisa and Edie waved as she went out the back door. Then Lisa turned to Edie. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be here, Schwester Westland. Even if Benji isn’t—”

  Edie cut her off, looking around the room with a puzzled expression. “Sister Westland? And who might that be?” Then she chuckled. “I would be very pleased if you just called me Edie. And if you call my husband Bruder Westland, he’ll probably put you to work cleaning out the chicken coop. Really. Edie and Mitch are what we prefer.”

  Lisa smiled and then shyly continued. “Uh . . . well, what I started to say is that in the last letter I got from him, Benji said that Abby was going up to Provo to start school at BYU. So it was a surprise to see her when we got off the train.”

  “That was her plan, but for the summer she was only going to work. She will start school in the fall. But as soon as she learned that you and the Zeidners were coming, she came back home.”

  “I’m so glad. I’ve never had a big sister before.”

  “And she told me last night how fun it is for her to have two younger sisters.” Another thought came to Edie. “Did Abby tell you that she is thinking maybe she will go on a mission too?”

  “Yes!” Lisa cried. “We talked about it for a long time last night. And guess what.”

  “You want to go too?”

  Lisa nodded. “I think so, even though it kind of frightens me. I don’t think I’d make a very good missionary.”

  “Nonsense,” Edie cut in. “You would be wonderful.”

  “Well, after talking to Abby, I’m going to really seriously think about it. And pray about it. I still have a few years before I need to decide.”

  “You know, they call sister missionaries to work in their own country, and when they do that, they can go a year earlier.”

  “Really? That would be wonderful.” Lisa’s face colored a little. “Then maybe Benji and I could be in the same mission at the same time.”

  “Or at least out at the same time . . . ” Edie’s voice trailed off, for tears had suddenly filled Lisa’s eyes. Smiling sadly, Edie reached out and laid a hand over Lisa’s. “We shouldn’t be talking about Benji quite yet, right?”

  “Oh, Edie,” Lisa cried, “I’ve been so excited to see him. And now this. I can’t even write to him because he never knows where he’ll be.” She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake.

  Edie scooted her chair over and took her in her arms. She was crying now too. “I know. That’s the hardest of all.”

  Lisa wiped at her eyes. “Do you think he will ever be able to call?”

  Edie shook her head. “I don’t think so. He said a four-minute call from Shanghai was over forty dollars. And he is determined to save as m
uch money as he can so that he can pay for his mission himself.”

  That brought more tears. “What can we do then? A whole year!”

  “You can do what I’m doing,” Edie said.

  Lisa straightened, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand. “What’s that?”

  “I write him a letter every week, the same as I would if he were on his mission. And I’m putting them in a box.”

  Lisa’s head lifted and a tiny smile of hope appeared. “So when he finally does get back, he can read them all. Oh, Edie. That’s a wonderful idea! Thank you.”

  Edie pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head. “And we can pray for him every day, too. Pray that Heavenly Father will bring him home safely to us.”

  August 13, 1934—Somewhere North of

  the Mariana Islands, Pacific Ocean

  It serves me right. I was pretty prideful about my easy adjustment to sea life. Then three days ago, Skipper Jack announced that we would be heading into a major typhoon. The winds out of the northwest had already picked up substantially and the seas were heavy, the heaviest we’ve seen since leaving Long Beach.

  His announcement came while I was in the mess hall eating supper. There were about fifteen of us there, and from the grave expressions and strained silence that followed, I realized that this was not something they took lightly. All hands immediately set to work securing the cargo below decks and battening down the hatches. They also rigged safety lines around the deck. By the time we finished that, just as dawn was breaking, I got a new appreciation for the awesome power of Mother Nature. The ship was starting to corkscrew as it crested the waves coming at us, which were easily as high as the ship. But I was still doing just fine.

  By noon of the next day, we were fully engaged with the storm. The wind was howling at nearly sixty knots, or almost 70 mph. At first it was an awesome sight to see waves almost as tall as the funnel of the ship coming at you like this massive, rolling mountain of greenish-black stone, with the wind whipping tendrils of spray at you, pelting your cheeks like bullets. The bow of the ship begins to rise sharply as the wave passes under the ship’s hull. Only the bow doesn’t clear the wave, and tons of water comes crashing onto the decks. If you’re on deck without being fastened to a line when that happens, you can easily be washed out to sea in an instant, likely never to be seen again. Knowing that gives you pause for thought, I’ll tell you that.

  Anyway, when the prow of the ship finally clears the wave and it passes beneath the ship, the whole front end of the boat drops like it’s going over a cliff. When the hull smacks the water, there is a tremendous thunderclap of sound, and the whole ship shudders violently. The first time that happened, I thought the ship had split in two. Another time I was near the stern of the ship, hanging on to my life line, trying to secure a hatch that was leaking. As the front of the ship dropped, I looked up and I actually saw the spinning propellors come out of the water for a few seconds.

  One particularly huge wave crashed over the bow and tore loose one of the cranes. Suddenly we had this two- or three-hundred-pound ball swinging around wildly, threatening to destroy the whole forward derrick. The captain shouted over the P.A. system for everyone available to immediately help secure the crane. I raced up along with four other men. But Skipper Jack stopped me. Said I didn’t have enough experience and to leave it to the others. But a few minutes later another huge wave came crashing in, and a guy named Link was slammed hard against the railing and nearly washed overboard. The captain had turned his back for a moment, so I darted out and took Link’s place and helped the guys finally grab the ball and secure it again. Then we helped Link get back inside to safety.

  It wasn’t a big thing. It’s not like I climbed up the mast and saved the whole ship. But when we finally got back inside, Skipper Jack was waiting for me. I thought he was going to throw the book at me for disobeying his orders, but he just nodded as I passed. It wasn’t much, but it said a lot. That became a turning point with the crew. It’s not like we instantly became friends, but the hazing and the snide comments about being a Mormon have stopped, and I’m treated like I am one of them now.

  And, to be honest, that has helped me to loosen up a little too. I don’t swear or gamble with them, but I sit around and shoot the bull. Interesting that they don’t talk about their exploits with women when I am around. So the tension between us is mostly gone.

  The one thing that did happen in the “big blow” was I learned that I was more of a landlubber than I thought. By the second day of the typhoon I had gone from being somewhat queasy and a little green around the gills to full blown, out-of-control, violent seasickness. I made the mistake of eating the midday mess, and by midnight I was on my knees leaning over a bucket heaving my guts out. Up came the lunch I had eaten earlier. Up came breakfast. Up came last night’s supper. I think I even threw up some stuff from my early childhood before I was through.

  After eighteen hours of that, I was afraid I was going to die. After twenty-eight hours of it, I was afraid I was NOT going to die! But gradually I came back, even though we were still in some pretty heavy seas. By the third day, I was back standing watch, though I was still weak and pale as a ghost.

  The storm blew itself out late last night, and we are on relatively calm seas again. Skipper Jack estimates we are still about two weeks out of Shanghai. And with getting three square meals a day, I have regained my lost weight and may have even added a few extra pounds.

  As a result of the storm, I have come to realize something. As bad as my seasickness was, my homesickness is worse. I cannot get my family out of my mind. I think of them all the time and have a thousand questions about their lives, and each one leaves me with this terrible ache down inside of me. I also think of Lisa, so far across the sea, wondering if she has received my letter by now. If so, has my decision to go to sea convinced her that there is something fundamentally flawed in my character and that she’s done with me?

  Okay. I’ll stop now and close with this. I am now determined that I will continue sailing with Skipper Jack only if he plans to return to the United States in the next two or three months. It’s tempting to stay longer. I could end up with more than a thousand dollars for my mission. That is a powerful enticement to stay on with him, but I can’t bear this for that long. I’ll find some other way to pay for my mission. I’ll go back to riding the rails if I have to. But if we start port-hopping all across Asia, then I’m done. I’ll see if I can find a ship headed east and head home.

  August 20, 1934, 10:32 p.m.—Eckhardt Home, Munich

  Hans had just turned off the living room lights and started after Emilee down the hallway to their bedroom when the phone rang. He did a slight detour and went into the kitchen. As he picked up the earpiece, Emilee came in as well and moved over to stand next to him. “Hallo!”

  “Is this the home of Hans Otto Eckhardt?” asked a pleasant female voice.

  “Ja, I am Hans Eckhardt.”

  “Hold, please. We have a trans-Atlantic call for you.”

  “All right.” Hans listened as there were two or three distinct clicks, a brief burst of static, another click, and a hum of softer static. “You may go ahead, Herr Eckhardt.”

  “Danke. Hallo!”

  “Hans? Is that you? This is Alemann.” Emilee’s hand shot out and gripped Hans’s arm as she gave a low cry of joy. Alemann was still speaking. “Did I wake you? I am sorry to call so late. We were going to call earlier, but we were waiting for the girls to get home so they could speak with you too. But they are still not back. The many friends they have made here are giving them a farewell party.” Hans and Emilee heard a woman’s voice in the background, and Alemann spoke again. “Richelle would very much like to speak with Emilee. I’ll put her on.”

  As they exchanged the phone, Hans glanced up at the clock. “We cannot speak long,” he whispered. “This must be costing them a fortune.”


  She nodded, then a moment later, Richelle spoke in her ear. “Emilee?”

  “Yes, Richelle. I’m here. How wonderful to hear your voice. How is everything there?”

  “Everything here is fantastic. It has been such a wonderful visit for us. I’m sorry that you cannot speak with Lisa and Jo. I fear they will not be home for another hour or so, even though we reminded them that we leave first thing in the morning.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “Oh, Emilee. It has been an unbelievable visit. The girls all say this is the best summer ever. And it has been so good for Lisa especially, even though it was a bitter disappointment to her that Benji was not here. But she is happy, singing all the time around the house.”

  Hans leaned in closer and spoke into the phone. “Richelle, be sure and tell her that she has three letters from Benji waiting for her.”

  “Wunderbar!” Richelle said. “I will tell her. That will please her very much. I just had to tell you that we visited Zion National Park last week. We actually camped there for two days and took some of the most spectacular hikes in the world. It was incredible. Your painting doesn’t begin to do it justice.” She paused. “Well, I’ll put Alemann back on. We are anxious to be home again and will see you shortly.”

  Emilee handed the phone back to Hans. Then Alemann was back on the line. “I’ll be brief, Hans. We don’t get a daily paper here, but we are able to pick up a Salt Lake City radio station at night and listen to the news. So I have been trying to keep up with events. But it’s pretty sketchy. So I have some questions for you. For example, we heard a brief report on the vote held to ratify the combining of the offices of president and chancellor. But all they said was that Hitler received a substantial majority. Did you take my advice and volunteer to assist with the election?”