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

by Linda Ellen

  He reminisced about gathering for coffee and breakfast, on cold mornings in Reedy Haymaker’s restaurant, just to buzz about rumors and chew the fat. Most of them were going through hard times, as was he. Although a few were fairly prosperous, most of the farmland around the area wasn’t good for growing crops anymore, it had been played out; they couldn’t grow enough to keep body and soul together. Besides that, they felt as if they were stuck back in the days of old, before electricity and running water.

  “Except for a few lucky ones, practically no one in the area could afford to hook up to county services, so their homes were pretty much as they were when built in the 1880’s – still had to go out back to a pump for water, or to the outhouse, had a fireplace or pot bellied stove for heat, and no ’lectric lights or phone. Every day, they griped and complained, wishing Roosevelt would do something to change things and braggin’ about what they would do to make things better, if’n they were the president,” he said with a snort.

  “And then one day the land brokers and the surveyors came,” the old man mumbled as he took a bite out of his sandwich. “They bought up the land, and once they’d begun construction, everything changed. Job seekers from Indiana, Kentucky, and throughout nearly the whole Midwest started comin’ to town by the thousands to work on the project, bringin’ their wives and families with ’em. It raised the population to over 13,000 in a matter of weeks! Can you imagine?”

  Steve knew his expression must be showing his astonishment – he had never given a thought to what it must have been like before and during construction.

  “Why, everyone in town rented out rooms, charged rent to park trailers and pitch tents in their yards – I even rented out my garage to a family, my shed to a fella, and my root seller to another. People slept anywhere they could, anything with a roof – converted chicken coops, barber chairs, their automobiles, and even in the firehouse on rolled hoses!” he paused and scratched his head as he chuckled. “I never seen nothin’ like it in all my born days. Do you know – in only nine months, them workers laid over 20 million bricks, poured 170 million cubic yards of concrete, erected 12,500 tons of steel, built 608 buildings, paved 40 miles of roads, put up 30 miles of eight-foot tall chain-link with barbed-wire electrified fencing, and laid 60 miles of railroad track? And mind ya, even with all of that to get done, powder production began on April 21, 1941 – 23 days ahead of schedule.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, he chortled, “It’s downright amazin’ what men can do, if they work together and puts their minds and backs to it, eh?”

  Steve couldn’t deny that – the numbers were staggering.

  He cast an eye at his lunch companion. “How in the world do you remember all those facts and figures?”

  The oldster let out a soft cackle, his faded blue eyes still sharp as a tack. “Always did have a head for figures; numbers just stick in my head, put themselves in columns, and make sense. My friends always came to me for help to calculate profit versus expenses when we was all still farmers,” he gave a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder.

  Steve gave a wide-eyed nod and then sipped his coffee, feeling a bit shell-shocked as he tried to get a handle on what the old man was saying. All of this time, he’d been stationed at a modern-day miracle of engineering and construction and had never realized it.

  “But that ain’t all,” Mr. Hayes relentlessly continued. “While they was buildin’ the two power houses and the plant, other crews were constructin’ the administration area where you army fellas would be headquartered. That includes your main buildin’, the telephone exchange, hospital, repair shop, cafeteria, barracks, and the office building, and the officer and staff residential district of them nineteen, real nice, two-story wood frame homes located up there overlookin’ the Ohio on River Ridge. And if that weren’t enough,” he paused and leaned forward to poke a gnarled finger at Steve’s hand, “they also dug and built seven separate Ranney Collector Wells that are capable of producin’ seventy million gallons of water per day, to accommodate the needs of this here gy-normous venture.” Shaking his head again, he stated in awe, “If I hadn’t seen it all myself, I plumb wouldn’t believe it. But every word is true.”

  Steve’s eyes glimmered at his tablemate, as the old man had hardly taken a breath during his entire speech, but he wholeheartedly agreed. The statistics were mind-boggling. And beyond even that – Steve knew that once production of the powder got going, they produced 24 million pounds of smokeless powder per month – or a whopping 900,000 pounds a day. Civilian employees worked around the clock in shifts, and the lines never stopped.

  But all of this, Steve reminded himself, added up to over 27,500 workers that would have to be checked out, and no soldier in the division would be given weekend leave until that task was finished.

  Old man Hayes continued talking in between bites of his lunch. He said he had been a resident of Charlestown his whole life, and the mood of the area residents had remained fairly positive – in spite of the fact that strangers had come and overrun their quiet little town. The locals had, after all, acquired better utilities, a surplus of food, gas, clean water, and even new schools because of the influx.

  Steve’s experience corroborated that, as he’d spoken to many of the workers, and knew that for the most part, they were patriotic, cared about the quality of the product they were making, and worked together to help America win the war.

  Steve questioned the elderly man about his own observations regarding the general emotional climate, and he conceded that, notwithstanding the feelings of a few of the displaced former residents of the area, like Sheldon’s family or the family of the local ne’er-do-well-turned-saboteur, most people had looked on it as a boon. He pointed out that the majority of homes on the purchased acreage had been in disrepair, and many had even been abandoned or condemned. Those owners received an even higher price for their property than it had been appraised for, and the families were able to purchase land or homes elsewhere and start over. In most cases, their lives were better for it. The man added that quite a few locals had ended up working at the facility, which put food on their tables and money in the bank, whereas before, they had been out of work and their families were in need.

  Holding up a dish of chocolate pudding, he gave it a sniff, wiggled his bushy eyebrows, and plunged his spoon in for a big bite, which he swallowed with an appreciative smack of his lips. “Son, America was attacked and she’s gotta defend herself. That takes firepower, which means munitions plants. Now, the government had a big job to do here in a very short time, but they tried their best to conduct the acquisitions as fairly as possible. And I think they done a right good job of it.”

  Finally, he concluded with, “Maybe not for everyone, but for most, the ammunition plant turned out to be a blessing.” Then he aimed a squinted eye at the younger man and declared, “When it comes right down to it, Sonny, attitude is everythin’. Always remember that and you’ll come out on top. Your attitude about a thing can make ya – or break ya.”

  As they finished their lunch, Steve thanked the old gentleman and told him, sincerely, that he hoped they would run into one another again. He’d given Steve quite a bit to think about…as if he needed more, that is.

  The days went on, and with the extra manpower being utilized for the task, it got done – everyone understood the necessity and all in all, was patient with the process.

  Steve had to hand it to Commander Lewis and the men in charge of the lines – despite frequent interruptions, production went on as before, without any delays. After all – the war was still raging in the Pacific and in Europe, and everyone was acutely aware that our boys needed a steady supply of ammunition.

  The second week crawled by, and finally the paperwork was finished and Commander Lewis began granting passes again.

  Raring to go and straining at the leash to see a certain blue-eyed brunette with big, pretty Victory Rolls in her hair, Steve was one of the first in line.

  He couldn’t wait to fire
up the Ford and head across that bridge!

  CHAPTER 14

  A black Ford sedan pulled up and parked next to an identical model in the parking lot of Little Flock Community Church on Sunday morning. Well, mostly identical, like their owners, there were minor differences, such as one’s paint job was smoother, and there was less rust, and wear and tear.

  The nicer Ford was unoccupied, so Steve knew that his brother was inside with his fiancée and with Steve’s…Steve’s what? His girlfriend? With a grouse, Steve grumbled to himself that if it weren’t for his duties, the three scumbags that tried to sabotage the plant, and Commander Lewis’ reaction, he would probably know by now if she was or not.

  As it was, he only knew that he was attracted to her and she likewise to him. Now, he was going to make it his business to find out where that would take them.

  Today, in particular, he intended to – as they used to say in the old days – pay court to Miss Harriman, and he hoped that by sunset that evening, he would know where he stood with the lovely young woman.

  He checked his watch and fidgeted in the driver’s seat, wishing he’d gotten an earlier start, as it was quite the drive from the plant, all the way to the bridge, and then the added miles to the church in Okolona. He had misjudged the distance and how long it would take.

  Finally, he slid his Garrison forward a bit and slouched in the seat to take a small siesta while he waited for church to let out.

  Twenty minutes later, he could hear the congregation singing, as several of the windows in the building had been opened to let in fresh air on the unusually warm autumn morning. Soon, the doors opened and people began to file out, stopping to speak and shake hands with the pastor on their way.

  Steve scanned the crowd as he opened his door and climbed out, his face breaking into a wide grin when he saw his brother, looking sharp in his dress uniform, with Viv on his arm, her parents following behind with pleased smiles, and…ahh finally – Mary June. Even across the distance, he could see her face light up when she spotted him. A jolt of electricity shot straight through him at just the touch of her gaze.

  He met them halfway, shook his brother’s hand, and gave Viv a kiss on the cheek. Then he turned at last to Mary June, but she seemed a bit shy after two long weeks of having no contact with him. He allowed his focus to drift down from her head to her feet, admiring the navy blue pencil skirt, pretty red and white checkered blouse, and white sweater she was wearing. Thinking of the dress he had teased her about before, he steered himself away from the temptation of pointing out that she was wearing another tablecloth.

  “Hey,” he greeted softly, peering down at her with a wide smile, his eyes roaming over her face and up to those Victory Rolls she never tired of wearing.

  She smiled up at him timidly. “Hey stranger.”

  The six of them moved out of the way of other parishioners as Mary June added, “Gene said they made you work yesterday…”

  He grimaced, thinking about being granted leave on Friday, only to have it immediately rescinded. “Yeah, a couple of privates got food poisoning or something and ended up in the infirmary, so Commander Lewis looked around and chose me and another corporal to pull some extra duty. I’m still steamed about it, but hey,” he tried to shrug it off, “when the brass says jump—”

  “We say how high,” Gene finished, and the brothers gave one another what the girls were beginning to call their twin grin. When either one would argue that technically they weren’t twins, Viv would always say, “When Gary’s not with you, you are.”

  “Yeah, how much jumpin’ have you done lately, First Sarge?” Steve teased his sibling with his usual rank needling, although Gene knew it was done with underlying pride and affection.

  “More than you think, brother. More than you think,” he replied, punctuating his words with a finger to Steve’s chest. “There’s always somebody higher up the food chain looking for somebody’s butt to chew—or pass a buck to.”

  Steve grinned and threw his arm around Gene. “You got that right.”

  The girls had said goodbye to Viv’s parents and Mr. & Mrs. Goss, who had brought Mary June to services like usual, and the foursome were now standing in front of the two Fords.

  Mary June exchanged looks with Vivian and asked in general, “So…which car are we going to E-town in?”

  “Well, see, that’s the thing…” Gene began, meeting eyes with Steve before he went on. “I completely forgot that I told Pop I would pick up some stuff Uncle Jerry—the one who lives here in town—wanted to store at the farm, but the thing is, it filled up the whole backseat,” he gestured toward his car. Steve looked and sure enough, the backseat of Gene’s car was full of boxes and bags. “So, we’ll need to take both cars.”

  “What is all that junk?” Steve asked with a laugh as he reached in and pulled out a dented cooking pot.

  “Heck if I know – Uncle Jerry’s always finding bargains at swap meets. He’ll buy a bit here and a piece there and then a couple of months later, Aunt Ida starts to fuss that if he’s not going to use the stuff, he’d better get rid of it ’cause it’s cluttering up the apartment. So—out it goes to the farm. Pop designated a corner of one of the barns for ‘Jerry’s Junk’.”

  The two couples laughed together.

  “Well then,” Mary June began, glancing at Steve and then back at Gene. “I guess we’ll follow you…since, I’ve never been there and…” she hesitated, turning to Steve, “have you?”

  “Nope, but I’ve been wanting to get to know the poor slobs who got stuck with Geno here when they were giving out the three of us,” he joked, laughing when Gene playfully whacked him on the arm.

  All four of them chuckled as Gene escorted Viv to the passenger door of his Ford and Steve did likewise for Mary June.

  Soon, the four young people were on their way, expecting nothing more than to spend a pleasant day out at the Banks’ family farm…

  “Can’t find nothin’ on this thing since we left the city limits,” Steve grumbled as he turned the dial of the radio on the car’s dashboard.

  Mary June paused in the act of tying a red bandana on the back of her hair to keep it secure since the Ford’s windows were down. “Here, let me try,” she offered once she secured the knot and he sat back to give her room. She fiddled with it for a while, turning the knob and stopping each time she heard something, but the only station that came in strong was WHAS, and it was airing an episode of the Jack Benny Show, which didn’t appeal to either of them. When she couldn’t get any other stations to come in, she just gave up.

  “Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to entertain ourselves,” she announced, her face turning a bit red when Steve flashed her a risqué look and wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s not what I meant, Stephen Wheeler.”

  He snickered. “Aw heck, babe. I thought you meant we’d pull over to the side of the road and do a little passionate necking.”

  She sent him a mock glare and pointed toward the road through the windshield, and Gene’s car up ahead. “You just keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel, Corporal.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Masher.”

  “Buzz killer.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his silliness, gazing over at him as he drove. He sat comfortably slouched in his uniform shirt, tie, and khakis, as he’d taken off his jacket and tossed it into the backseat with his Garrison. She found she liked the way he drove, masculine-like, with his right hand draped over the wheel and his left elbow propped on the driver’s door, his hand loosely gripping the upper casing of the open window.

  Oh, she had missed him! It had been the longest two weeks she could remember, having to wait for the commander at the plant to allow the guys to get weekend passes again. The fourteen days had started off badly with the incident with the drunken sailor at the dance. Days later, the family had sent her brother off with an emotional farewell, taking him to the bus station for his ride out to Knox for the duration of his basic trainin
g. Her mother had another meltdown in front of strangers in the terminal, and it had been all her and her father could do to get Mrs. Harriman to the car and home again. Then, her father had immediately taken off for the pool hall, leaving Mary June to deal with the aftermath. To say it had been traumatic would be the understatement of the year.

  Steve had expressed sympathy for her feelings and she’d wanted so much to just connect with him after that and hear him tell her once more that everything would be all right. But there had been no direct contact; merely Gene letting Viv know the situation his brother was enduring. Their whirlwind date had been delightful, each dance heavenly, and all those kisses, sweet looks, and caresses—then nothing as everything slammed to a halt. It felt strange, the way tripping when you’re striding down the sidewalk made you feel disoriented for the next few steps that it took to get back into rhythm. So, seeing him again in the parking lot at church almost felt like their romance had been set back to square one.

  She gazed now at his profile, mooning over how incredibly handsome he was, and noticed that he’d recently gotten a haircut, and there weren’t much of his normal waves left to ruffle in the breeze. Just then, he glanced over at her and winked when he caught her staring.

  Slightly embarrassed, she fished around for something to say.

  Finally, she blurted, “What’s your middle name?” as a sudden urge had arisen to be able to use his first and middle name to fuss at him the next time they teased.

  He had turned his attention forward again, but now met her eyes with a grimace. “Something I don’t like.”

  She immediately turned in the seat to face him. “You don’t like your middle name? Well, what is it?” She waited while he seemed to ponder whether to tell her or not. “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. Please?”

  Finally after a full minute, he drew in a breath and released it in a huff, mumbling something unintelligible.