Her Blue-Eyed Corporal (Soldiers 0f Swing Book 2)

by Linda Ellen

  The compact military vehicle bounced over terrain laden with clumps of grass, potholes where old fences had been removed, and who knew what else. Come on! He urged the vehicle, intent on catching up to the invaders before they reached the outer edges of the buildings – or possibly one of the ammo bunkers. He didn’t know who they were at this point, but he knew they hadn’t taken the chance of getting caught trespassing in such a well-guarded army facility just for kicks.

  When they got within twenty yards, he yelled, “Halt! Turn around with your hands up!”

  Instead of stopping, however, the three veered to the right behind a large bulldozer. Steve steered the jeep to within twenty feet of the object and swerved to a stop with the headlights on their position. “Gimme my carbine,” he entreated sharply to Sheldon as he grabbed the light from him and trained it on the large piece of machinery. He quickly aimed the spotlight all around but couldn’t find them anywhere, so he knew they were behind it. Taking his rifle in hand and aiming the light back on the dozer again, he demanded in full military-voice, “Come out with your hands up, NOW, or we’ll be forced to open fire.”

  Steve cast a quick glance at his partner, who was shakily training his carbine on the large piece of equipment, his eyes darting from side to side as he searched for any kind of movement.

  Ten seconds went by. When Steve detected no signs of obedience to his order, he motioned for Sheldon to follow his example as he eased out of the driver’s seat. Fully expecting compliance, he was momentarily shocked when he heard what sounded like German words being spoken from the backside of the dozer. Then three men dressed all in black – from the knit caps on their heads to the dark camouflage on their faces and the black boots on their feet – came forward around the side of the machinery. The first two had their hands up in the air, as Steve had commanded, but before he could react he saw that the third was hovering behind.

  As Steve opened his mouth to shout another order, two shots rang out; one bullet shattering the windshield directly in the driver’s line of sight, and the other toward the passenger side.

  “Hit the dirt!” Steve instantly yelled to Sheldon, while simultaneously hearing his partner cry out in pain. Steve dove flat down on the grass and aimed his rifle at the three, squeezing off a shot in the direction of the shooter. The man grunted and fell to his knees, his gun spinning out of his hand.

  Immediately, the first two began hollering, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! We give up!”

  Raging with anger but controlling his temper over the fact that this scum had invaded his turf and shot his partner, Steve sprang to his feet and bellowed, “Over here, face down on the ground, feet spread, arms out, NOW!” and watched as the first two hurriedly complied. The third one dragged himself over and managed to obey. Once they were down, Steve circled the jeep, keeping his rifle trained on the three on the ground, and crouched next to Sheldon.

  “You okay, buddy? Where you hit?”

  “M…my arm. He got my arm,” Sheldon groaned, although trying valiantly to withstand the pain and remember his military training, which dictated he stay cool under fire.

  Steve steadfastly aimed his rifle skyward and squeezed off three sets of three shots and then trained it again on his prisoners. He knew that the guards, who were in closest proximity, would have heard the first shots and would be headed their way, but the international Morse code SOS distress signal would kick them into high gear.

  “Hang on, partner, help’s coming. They’ll be here in two shakes of a cow’s tail,” he encouraged his young associate, using the silly phrase his adopted father used to say. Then he moved closer to the men on the ground, his rifle at the ready, to keep an eye on them until backup arrived. It was then that he noticed they were all wearing dark backpacks. That knowledge made a shiver run down his spine. What had these three planned?

  Within two minutes, three jeeps came roaring toward them – one from the right, one from the left, and one from the direction of headquarters.

  The cavalry had arrived. He could stand down. For the first time since he’d seen the hole under the fence, Steve felt his muscles begin to relax.

  The next evening, the Harriman family got up from the table after dinner, which had been an unusually lighthearted affair, as Mrs. Harriman had been in one of her very rare good moods.

  The two women began to collect the dishes and clean up the table as Mary June’s father and brother retired to the living room. The patriarch settled in his easy chair and reached for his reading glasses along with the evening edition of the Courier Journal as the younger man switched on the family’s old Art Deco Silvertone console tube radio that was standing in its customary place on the floor next to the fireplace, and turned the dial.

  “I feel like some Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy tonight,” he mumbled to himself as much as to his father.

  “Sounds good,” Mr. Harriman muttered as he opened the newspaper. The top headline instantly grabbed his attention. Skimming the article, he murmured, “Well, would you look at this. The war has reached our neck of the woods.”

  RJ moved over to his father’s chair and quickly read the headline. Pursing his lips, he whistled softly, and then called into the kitchen, “Hey MJ, come read what your boy’s done.”

  Robert Sr. looked up at his son over the top of his glasses. “Her boy?”

  RJ just grinned mischievously.

  Mary June entered the room within seconds, drying her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “What’d you say RJ?”

  He gestured to the newspaper in their father’s lap. “Take a gander at that.”

  She leaned over and her eyes widened as she read out loud, “MUNITIONS PLANT SABOTAGE ATTEMPT ABORTED. Oh my goodness let me see that!”

  Snatching the paper from her father’s hands, she quickly unfolded it and began to read.

  “CHARLESTOWN, Wednesday. Three men, two local boys and one German speaking man, were caught inside the Indiana Ordnance Works’ facility early Wednesday morning. Two of the fifteen hundred-man Army division stationed there for the protection of the plant were on night-duty patrol when they came upon evidence of a breach of the eight-foot tall electrified fence on the southern edge of the facility. After spotting three figures running toward the ordnance works buildings, Corporal Steve Wheeler, 25, and Private Ray Sheldon, 18, gave chase and shots were exchanged. The German, as well as one of the soldiers were reportedly injured, but at press time it was not clear which soldier, nor the extent of his injuries. He was taken to the hospital within the complex.”

  Her voice breaking on the last sentence, Mary June sucked in a breath and whispered, “Oh no!” as she dropped down into an adjacent chair.

  “The perpetrators had come armed with several explosive devices, with the clear intent of causing a significant amount of damage to the plant. One is suspected of being a German spy with possible connections to the Abwehr, Hitler’s military intelligence organization, while the other two apparently were local men. One had previously worked in the powder production plant, IOW #1, while the other is his cousin, stated commanding officer Lieutenant Colonel Kelley H. Lewis, who added that the motives of the two Americans weren’t as yet clear and he declined to release their names. The three have been taken into custody and are being questioned by the F.B.I. Commander Lewis went on to state that a potential catastrophe was narrowly averted thanks to the quick actions and bravery of his men. Commendations would be sure to follow.”

  Slowly lowering the paper to her lap, she stared straight ahead, experiencing a mixture of pride and fear. “Steve…Steve could be hurt…” Glancing around, she mumbled, “I…I need to call Viv…have her call Gene…he could find out,” she hesitated, lifting a hand to her forehead. “Oh, I hope it’s not him… Please God, don’t let Steve be hurt…”

  Without preamble, the telephone rang in the kitchen and her mother, who hadn’t come into the living room with the others, answered it. Seconds later, she called out, “Mary June, you’re wanted on the p
hone!”

  “Maybe that’s Viv…” Mary June uttered as she hopped up and hurried into the other room. Taking the handset from the older woman, she put it to her ear quickly. “Hello?”

  A warm, familiar, masculine voice on the other end said, “Mary June? Hey…what’s doin’?”

  Delicious tingles zipped down her body and she grasped the mouthpiece tighter. “Steve? Is that you?”

  “On the hoof, babe.”

  “You weren’t injured, then?”

  Relief settled on her like a smooth, cool blanket when he laughed. “You know about that?”

  “Yes! We were just reading about it in the newspaper! Good gracious! Three men broke into the facility and tried to sabotage it? And you and Private Sheldon caught them in the act? Oh Steve, you’re a hero!” She gushed, but then added quickly, “Oh, but that means the private was hurt…is he all right?”

  Steve laughed again and she knew everything would be okay. “Yep, just winged him. He’ll be dancin’ a jig in a few weeks.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He paused and she took in a breath and held it. “Um…so… You wanna go somewhere this Friday night? Just you and me?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Mary June leaned against the wall as a large smile warmed her face and they began to discuss where they might go. Several minutes later, they said their goodbyes and rang off.

  She hung up the receiver and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold in the glee.

  Her wish had come true – her hero had just asked her out on a real date.

  CHAPTER 10

  Friday night finally arrived. It had been the longest two days Mary June could remember. Now to scurry inside, bathe and change, and be ready for her date to pick her up at six. He’d told her to be ready, so that they could have time to eat before they segued into the second event of the evening.

  All day long, her mind had shifted through all of her different outfits and dresses. She wanted to wear just the right thing, both for the sake of appearance and for comfort, because where they were going would be cool once the sun went down. She didn’t want to get chilled.

  I think my dark blue wool suit, paired with my white blouse with the ruffles down the front would work…I get compliments every time I wear it, and it’s warm…

  Deep in thought as she walked up to the house from the bus stop, her ponderings were interrupted by the sound of someone crying…or more precisely – wailing. “Mama?” she murmured, hurrying up the steps and in the front door.

  It was, indeed, her mother. She was sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, tears flowing down her cheeks. Mary June’s father and brother stood with their hands in their pockets, just looking at her. Good gracious – what’s happened? Did someone die?

  Rushing through the doorway, flinging her sweater and pocketbook on the table next to the entry, she hurried over to the couch.

  “Mama? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  It was then she noticed a crumpled letter in her mother’s hand. An official looking crumpled letter. Instantly two and two made four in Mary June’s mind and her gaze swung to her brother. The look on his face said more than words needed to. What they had all dreaded since the president reinstituted the draft had happened.

  RJ had gotten his induction notice.

  “Oh no, RJ…” she whispered, at a loss for words.

  He smiled a trifle sadly and moved his shoulders in a small shrug. “Knew it was gonna happen sometime. Billy Paul got his last week, and Jerry the week before that. We always did do everything in threes,” he joked softly, speaking of his two friends whom he had known since grade school. They had been the Three Musketeers, always together. “It’s not so bad. We’re all being sent out to Knox for basic.”

  Mrs. Harriman began to keen again. “My boy!” she screeched. “They can’t have my boy!”

  “Now, Harriet,” Mary June’s father spoke gingerly, lowering himself down on the couch beside his wife. “We’re just going to have to, as the British say, Keep a stiff upper lip. We’re not the first family to send a son off to fight and we won’t be the last.”

  “I don’t want to do that. I’m not British! I don’t have to! This lousy war! That lousy President Roosevelt! Those awful Japs and Germans! I wish they’d all go to h—”

  “Harriet,” Mr. Harriman interrupted her tirade as he grasped her arms and gave her a gentle shake. “Now, this isn’t helping anything. RJ’s got to go, and you acting like this isn’t making it any easier for him. You stop this,” he added with care, and she collapsed in his arms.

  He rocked her for a moment and then motioned with his head for their son and daughter to leave the room. As when they were children, they obeyed.

  Promptly at six, the doorbell rang. Mary June was finishing up in her room. As she spritzed on some of her favorite perfume, Joy, she could hear voices from the living room as her father let Steve inside. Pressing a nervous hand to her stomach, she stopped to listen, but couldn’t make out their words.

  Well, it’s now or never. Checking her Victory Rolls one more time to make sure they would stay intact in a stiff breeze, she switched off her lamp and headed down the hall.

  When she stepped into the living room, three pairs of male eyes looked her way, with three different expressions. The older pair gazed at her with pride and love while the younger pair looked on with fond affection. But the sky-blue pair twinkled with…mischief? Oh no, I hope he’s not in one of his teasing moods tonight, she groaned inwardly.

  Steve was wearing his customary khaki slacks, creased to perfection, his khaki shirt with an olive green tie tucked in at just the right angle, and his darker green uniform jacket. He had removed his Garrison and his fingers were fiddling with it as he stood in front of the closed door. She thought she’d never seen him more polished, with every hair in place, and those blue eyes sparkling…she couldn’t seem to focus on anything but him. Then, he moved forward with a smile. “You look nice, Mary June. Ready to go? We’d better get a move on.”

  “Yes, I’m ready,” she nodded, and then gave her father a quick hug and kiss. When she pulled back, she smiled sadly up at him. “I hope Mom’s okay.” Mrs. Harriman had taken to her bed with one of her sick headaches and Mary June had fixed a quick supper of leftovers for the men.

  Her father sent her one of his customary winks. “Don’t you worry about your mom. You just go and have a good time.”

  “All right, Daddy,” she said quietly, and then turned to her brother and found herself swept into his arms for a hug. She wanted to whisper something to him, knowing there wasn’t much time before he would have to report for duty, but nothing came to mind. They had slipped out to the backyard and talked for a few minutes after she had arrived home and she knew where he stood. He was resigned to it and was willing to go and serve his country, joining the fight “Over there.” Now, she just squeezed him and kissed his cheek before pulling back.

  Fighting emotion, she swept her knuckles under the corners of her eyes and turned to her date.

  “Let’s go.”

  He inclined his head in a nod, fixed his cap back on his head, and opened the door, stepping aside for her to precede him. He followed her out, but before he closed the door behind him, he met eyes with her father. “I’ll get her back safe and sound, sir.”

  RJ answered for them both. “We’re not worried. A girl couldn’t be in safer hands than the local hero.”

  Steve answered with a salute and a smile.

  Once the door was shut, he held out his elbow for her to grasp and gave her a jaunty wink as they set off toward the street and his car.

  If the rest of the evening went like this, she mused, this was going to be a wonderful date.

  Steve had heard about an end-of-season cruise for uniformed soldiers and their dates on the steamboat, Idlewild, and had figured that would be a great just-him-and-her date. He had never been on the old packet steamer before
; matter of fact, he had only seen it from afar, but he had heard others sing its praises.

  Mary June had told him that although she had ridden on the old girl many times before, she was excited about the prospect of experiencing the fun of a bygone era through fresh eyes. “Not to mention, being alone with the local hero,” she had teased, adding, “Well, as alone as anyone can be in close quarters with hundreds of others.”

  They had driven downtown and enjoyed a quick, fried-fish dinner at Cunningham’s on Fifth. All through the meal, Steve had held back from asking about the conversation he’d witnessed at her house. He figured they would get to that later in the evening, as the restaurant was boisterous with patrons laughing, dishes clanking, and the jukebox in the corner blaring out the Andrews Sisters’ new hit, Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree. The controlled chaos was fun, but didn’t allow for sensitive conversation.

  He parked his Ford a block down from the Idlewild’s mooring point, grabbed his date’s hand, and together they ran, exuberantly, down to join the gathering crowd at the water’s edge. There were already about a hundred people in line, but since the old boat could hold nearly seven hundred, they were in fine shape.

  “So far, so good,” he murmured as they stood shoulder to shoulder. He noticed she kept tight hold of his hand and he couldn’t help also noticing that she fit perfectly at his side. Sliding his gaze over her again, he let his eyes caress the pretty picture she made standing there beside him. Her blue wool skirt and matching jacket with its wide lapels and big buttons – which she’d left unfastened, probably to display the pretty white ruffled blouse – fit her figure most becomingly. He glanced down; her feet weren’t exactly tiny, but they weren’t big either – he almost laughed, as that made him think of the crazy song, Your Feet’s Too Big, that he and Gene could hear playing as they waited in line a few weeks back at the USO dance. She was wearing black shoes, or “pumps” as the girls called them, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she had on a pair of those new nylon stockings. He wondered how she’d scored those with the squeeze of rationing cinching tighter all the time. Raising his eyes back up to the top, he smiled fondly as he inspected her familiar Victory Rolls, although he shoved back the sudden mental image of them unrolling in steamy passion.