by Leslie Gould
As often as he could, Joe would slip up to the deck and enjoy the fresh air, looking east and wondering if Lt. Shaw had already reached England.
The ship landed in Liverpool in the middle of October. The servicemen were sent to a training camp in England, while Joe boarded another ship to cross the Channel. Once he landed in France, he was directed to join up with the British Twenty-First Army, which was operating in northern Belgium and southwestern Netherlands with the Canadian and Polish armies. They’d been fighting the Nazis since the first of October in the Battle of Scheldt, but that was now winding down.
For the next month, Joe stocked the ambulances with supplies and transferred the wounded from battalion aid stations to field hospitals and then on to transports out of the area. Besides caring for those wounded during the battle, Joe also transported soldiers injured in truck accidents and those who had fallen ill. He’d gone from Lancaster County to Chicago to Europe, a world he’d never imagined. He kept his head down and worked hard, exactly the way his Dat had taught him. Jah, everything had changed. But doing his work heartily as to the Lord hadn’t.
He was constantly on the lookout for Lt. Shaw and the others and asked about them frequently, but no one had any information on their unit.
In the middle of December, after the Germans attacked the Allies in a surprise advance on the western front, Joe and his ambulance crew were sent to the Ardennes Forest, where German bombs rained down on the British and American armies.
Joe had never imagined such destruction, and the only thing that kept him going was getting the wounded, four at a time, from the battalion aid stations to the field hospitals, which were mobile units with four hundred beds. As he drove over the slick roads of the forest, he faced horror after horror. But as he was tested more and more each day, he felt relieved that he had the courage to keep going. He wasn’t the failure that both Faith and Karcher predicted he would be. He was saving the lives of men who would hopefully get back to their families and their pre-war lives.
Joe believed he was doing the work God had for him, yet he appreciated the nonresistant views of the Amish more than ever. If only the entire world believed the same. The war wasn’t taking Joe away from his beliefs—if anything, it was cementing them in his mind and heart.
The loss of life weighed heavily on him, as did the soldiers’ debilitating wounds. Every single day men and marriages and families were altered forever—and that was for the soldiers who survived. Other men, marriages, and families were completely destroyed.
Not once did a soldier harass Joe for not fighting though. All seemed grateful for the ambulance drivers and the work they were doing.
He asked in each field hospital he went to about Captain Russell’s unit. Finally, at the beginning of January, Joe came across a doctor who knew Captain Russell. “He’s Major Russell now,” he said. “We came over on the same ship. They’re with the Eightieth Division. Last I knew their field hospital was near the village of Bavigne.”
When Joe got back to his headquarters, he looked at a map. Bavigne was in Luxembourg, south of where he was located in Belgium. There was no reason for him to go down there.
But when Joe’s supervisors asked for an ambulance driver to drive into Luxembourg and procure supplies from the Americans, near Mecher, Joe volunteered immediately. He knew the field hospitals leapfrogged over each other as the front line moved east. Hopefully Major Russell’s hadn’t yet.
With a map and the help of his partner, a Quaker named Wallace Allen who was from Ohio, Joe navigated the ambulance from Belgium into Luxembourg. They passed bombed-out farmhouses and barns, abandoned jeeps and tanks, and dead Germans along the way. They shivered through the freezing January day, both from the wind that blew through the ambulance and from the carnage all around them.
When they reached Bavigne, Joe slowed to a crawl. It was filled with American soldiers. Although houses and buildings had been bombed, the church steeple was intact, along with the few shops along the main street. As they left the village, a field hospital appeared around a curve, situated along a river.
Joe pulled the ambulance to the side of the road in front of the first tent. He turned to Wallace and said he’d be right back. “I need to ask about someone here.” Wallace said he’d look for a cup of coffee in the mess tent and meet him back at the ambulance.
Joe jogged toward the first tent and asked about Major Russell and his unit.
An orderly answered, “Yep. They’re here. Check the tent at the end, closest to the river.”
Joe hurried through the field hospital, weaving between people and tents until he reached the last tent. He ducked through the flap and squinted his eyes. One of the nurses turned toward him.
“Joe?” It was Lt. Madison, her voice soft. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked as if she hadn’t slept in a month. Then she said a little louder, “Look who’s here.”
Major Russell turned toward him. And then Lt. Shaw. Even in the dim light, he could tell she was pale and thin. Major Russell came forward and shook his hand. Joe complimented him on his promotion, and Major Russell simply nodded at the acknowledgment.
Lt. Shaw approached, a smile on her face, tears glistening in her eyes. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
He nodded, stepping as close as he could without touching her, but he longed to take her in his arms. “How about you?”
“Better, now that I know you’re okay.”
“How long can you stay?” Major Russell asked.
“I can’t.” Joe explained he was on his way to Mecher.
“Can you spend the night on your way back?” the major asked. “You’re going to have to sleep somewhere—besides in the back of an ambulance.”
Joe shook his head, although he wished with all his might he could. “We need to head right back.”
For a moment, in the middle of the gathering of his friends, he could almost forget there was a war all around them.
“Go ahead and walk out with Joe,” Major Russell said to Lt. Shaw. “We’ll cover for you.”
Joe didn’t want to leave Major Russell and Lt. Madison, but his desire to be alone with Lt. Shaw was greater. He told the others good-bye.
Once they were outside the tent, Lt. Shaw leaned toward him and Joe took her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “I’ve been so worried about you,” he said.
“I’ve been fine.” She shivered. “A little cold.”
Joe lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “And wet and hungry?”
She smiled. “You too?”
“Not anymore.” He pulled her close again. He couldn’t bear the thought of ever loving anyone but her. After a short time, he said, “I need to get going. I have to pick up supplies in Mecher.”
“I wish you could come back tonight.”
“Me too.”
“Do you have any R&R coming?”
Joe shook his head. One of the other ambulance drivers had been allowed a few days of rest and relaxation, but Joe didn’t see any in his future.
“Lt. Madison and I do,” Lt. Shaw said. “Major Russell ordered it. Lt. Madison has been unsettled. Shaky and out of sorts from all the bombings.”
“When will your R&R be?” he asked.
“In about a week and a half—the last week of January, unless something changes.”
“Where?”
“Longwy. It’s a French village in Lorraine. Could you come see me?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, thinking Longwy was where the ambulance driver he knew had gone for R&R. “But I can’t guarantee anything, especially if the battle doesn’t end before then.”
“I’ll pray.” She hugged him tighter.
“I will too.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I’ve missed you, worse than I even thought possible.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back, locking his eyes on hers. He felt the same way.
“Is this real to you?” she asked.
His v
oice thickened as he stuttered, “This?”
“What’s between us. What feels like—”
“Love?” The word flew out of his mouth.
She nodded.
“Jah,” he whispered.
She fell back into his arms for a moment, but then pulled away. “You need to get going. God willing, we’ll see each other soon.”
He hugged her again, his heart racing. Then she tipped her face upward, and his lips met hers. Love. This was what it felt like.
While the war was only making his nonresistant beliefs grow stronger, Joe’s feelings for Lt. Shaw were threatening all he’d anticipated for his future. He knew he couldn’t rely entirely on his emotions. He’d heard soldiers talk about war-time romances. He had to be pragmatic. On the other hand, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling the way he did for Lt. Shaw for any another woman. He’d never imagined feeling this way was even possible.
Joe didn’t put in for any leave until the battle ended on January 25 and the Germans fled east. He was given permission to go two days later. He prayed Lt. Shaw would still be there.
Of course, he couldn’t take an ambulance, so he had to hitch rides as best he could, starting on the back of a troop truck and then in a jeep with a couple of officers who were also headed to Longwy, to the R&R facility.
When they pulled up outside an old hotel in the center of the village, Joe grabbed his bag, thanked the officers, and climbed out of the jeep. He noticed a curtain flicker on the second floor, and he ran toward the entrance. By the time he reached the lobby, Lt. Shaw was coming down the steps of the open staircase. She wore a black skirt and a blue sweater that matched her eyes. A moment later, she was in his arms as the two officers came through the door and tipped their hats.
One of them laughed and said, “No wonder you were so eager to get here.”
Joe and Lt. Shaw stayed up half the night talking in the corner of the lobby near the fireplace. He put log after log on the fire, but the drafty room remained cold. Finally, he scooted closer and put his arm around her.
As she melted against him, Lt. Shaw lowered her voice. “War is horrible—worse than I even dreamed. I thought I was prepared after taking care of the boys back in Chicago, but I wasn’t at all. I wonder how the soldiers can bear all of it, actually being on the battlefield.” Her eyes welled with tears. “You too. Scooping the wounded up and into an ambulance. It’s all too close and real and horrid.”
“It isn’t too bad for me,” Joe said. “I just have to get them to a field hospital—you have to put them back together.”
Lt. Shaw snuggled even closer. “What’s to become of us, Joe?”
He tightened his grip on her shoulder. At the moment, he believed he’d do anything to be with her. Marry her. Move to Chicago. Never join the Amish. Lancaster County felt as if it were a universe away.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning away from him.
He pulled her back. “Well, for one, I’m younger than you. I don’t want to lead you to believe that I’m more than I am. I’ve been told that I’ll never amount to anything.”
She met his gaze. “I know you, Joe Bachmann. You’re a good man. The best I know. Put those foolish predictions out of your mind. And two years? What will that matter . . . ?” She stopped.
He coaxed her to go on, but she waved her hand and shook her head, tears flooding her eyes again. He tried to smile.
“What will it matter . . . when we’re old?” she whispered.
He held her even tighter. Not sure how to phrase the next item, he hesitated bringing it up. He’d never been good at discussing hard topics, but it was essential that they did. Being with her here and now, he knew his feelings for her were true. But how could he be sure she really cared for him? Enough to commit to him—for life?
“I’ve heard soldiers speak of war-time romances,” he said carefully. “Where two people pledge their lives before really even knowing each other. I want to make sure that’s not us.”
“I understand,” Lt. Shaw answered. “I’ve thought about that too, especially as I’ve missed you so much these last several months.” The light from the fire flickered across her face. “But don’t you think people get to know each more deeply in times like these? We saw each other every day in Chicago, caring for others in difficult situations and dealing with adversity. Some people could be married for years before they witnessed each other in such trying times.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “I’d feel this way about you regardless of our circumstances. But what we’ve gone through has allowed me to get to know you faster—and more thoroughly—than I ever would have otherwise.”
He nodded. He felt the same. Finally he could ask her the question he’d longed to voice since seeing her coming down the stairs of the hotel. “Will you marry me?”
She sank her face against his chest. “When?”
Without pausing, he said, “As soon as we can.”
She pulled back again. “But what about you being Amish?”
“I’m not,” he said. “I haven’t joined the church yet.”
“But you will.”
“Not necessarily.”
“You would leave for me?”
He nodded. “Jah, I would.”
“And not regret it?”
Leaving would mean abandoning his Dat and sisters. And giving up the land. He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I can say that I’d never regret marrying you.”
“What about your faith?”
“My relationship with God won’t change. And wherever we settle, we’ll become part of a church, hopefully in a Mennonite community, that will help us grow in our faith.”
She took his hand in hers and ran her finger along each of his. “Are you serious about getting married as soon as possible?”
He nodded.
“There’s a chaplain here. He was joking at dinner that he’s officiated more weddings in the army than he did back home.”
“But you need permission from your commander,” Joe said.
Her eyes sparkled in the shadowy light. “How did you know?”
His face grew warm, even in the cold lobby. “I asked around.”
She laughed, the first time she’d done so all evening. “So did I.” She pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her skirt. “It started as a joke.” She unfolded the paper. “But Major Russell gave this to me, just in case.”
Joe took the piece of paper. Sure enough, Major Russell had given his permission and signed the document. If they married tomorrow, they’d have one night together before they both had to return to their assignments.
“What about you?” Lt. Shaw asked. “Do you need permission?”
“Not that I’ve been able to find out.” He clasped her hand and asked her again. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes.” She beamed. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Meet me in the dining hall for breakfast. We can talk with the chaplain then.”
After only two hours of sleep, Joe made his way to the dining hall, which was a long, narrow room with dark paneling and heavy drapes. Soon after, Lt. Shaw arrived. She pointed to a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. “That’s Chaplain Higdon,” she said.
Over homemade bread and plain dark coffee, they talked with the chaplain, who was a Baptist preacher from North Carolina. He asked them if either had been married before. Both shook their heads.
“I’ll take you on your word,” Chaplain Higdon said as he stared at Joe. “You look like you just started shaving, so I believe you.” Then the man slapped him on the back, and Joe could tell the chaplain was joking—most likely anyway.
Chaplain Higdon said that because they were under US jurisdiction, there was no need to get a French marriage license. Then he pointed out that had Joe been an orderly in the army, he couldn’t have married the two, as Joe would be Lt. Shaw’s subordinate. But, the chaplain continued, there were no regulations against a member of the AFS marrying a US Army officer.
Relief filled Joe
to have what he’d been told confirmed.
Next, the chaplain asked Joe about his religion. He seemed surprised that Joe was Amish, and then even more so that Lt. Shaw was Mennonite. “Well, I grew up Mennonite,” she clarified. “Obviously I’m not anymore or I wouldn’t have joined the army.”
“What about once the war is done? What will the two of you be then?”
“Mennonite,” Joe said.
He was surprised when Lt. Shaw didn’t agree with him. Instead, she simply said, “We’ll figure it out. That’s the least of our worries now.”
Joe wondered what exactly she meant but didn’t press her.
Chaplain Higdon said he was happy to marry them. He opened up a leather attaché case, pulled out a document, and held it up. “Voilà,” he said. “A marriage certificate.” He wrote their full names and then called two people from the next table to sign as witnesses.
“I can marry you right now, if you’d like,” he said.
Lt. Shaw looked at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders. “I’m fine with whatever you want.”
“Wait just a few minutes then,” she said. “I need to go get Lt. Madison.”
A waiter must have overheard their conversation because just as Lt. Shaw walked out the door the manager of the hotel appeared and called her back to the table. In perfect English, he said, “If we are going to have a wedding, we must at least attempt to have some semblance of decorum. Wait until noon. We’ll have the ceremony in the lobby, and I’ll speak with the chef about a wedding dinner.”
Lt. Shaw smiled in relief. “Merci.”
At noon, they gathered in the lobby of the hotel. Lt. Madison stood up with Lt. Shaw, and one of the doctors Joe hitched a ride with the day before stood up with him. Joe wore his uniform and Lt. Shaw wore hers, a skirt and tailored jacket. Someone had made a bouquet of paper flowers that Lt. Shaw carried, along with her Bible.