Phantoms in the Snow

by Kathleen Benner Duble

  “My family …,” Daniel said abruptly. He stopped, pursed his lips. “My family lives in the Bronx, but I went to school at Dartmouth.” He smiled ruefully. “Or at least I used to.”

  Noah let out a low whistle. “Dartmouth? Gee, you must be smart.”

  “What made you think I wasn’t smart?” Daniel asked.

  Noah felt himself redden.

  Daniel sighed. “I miss school, especially the classes. I had hoped to teach classical studies some day.”

  “You probably still can,” Noah said. “It’s not like you can’t go back later.”

  Daniel laughed. “If there is a later. If I’m not dead at the end of this war.”

  Noah didn’t know how to respond to Daniel’s statement. What he said was true. “Did you learn how to deal with animals at school? Dartmouth’s in the country, isn’t it?”

  Daniel watched the mule chewing for a moment. “A little. But mostly, I learned about it at my uncle’s farm in Poland when I was little and we went to visit — long before the invasion.”

  Noah thought about how awful it must be for Daniel to envision his aunt suffering and dying, his uncle being beaten by soldiers, and his little cousins being shipped off to a concentration camp with barbed wire and guns.

  “Coming here,” Daniel continued, “helps me remember them. It helps me remember what I’m doing here.”

  Quiet settled over the barn.

  “It helps me remember, too,” Noah agreed.

  Daniel looked at the floor of the barn.

  “It sure is tough, though,” Noah said, his voice gruff with the emotion he was trying to hold back, “this waiting, this hoping. Since my parents died, I have a hard time believing anything will be right again.”

  “But,” Daniel said, his voice cracking, too, “holding on to hope is the only thing that’s left.”

  Noah glanced over and saw that Daniel’s eyes were wet. He looked quickly away. He would not let Daniel Stultz know that he had seen his tears.

  “So now, Garrett,” Daniel said, as he stood up straight and wiped his hands on his pants, “as your commanding officer, I order you to go and get some sleep. Is that understood?”

  Noah nodded. “Yes, sir!”

  Daniel turned to leave. “And, Garrett,” he added in a soft voice over his shoulder, “no matter what, continue to hold on to that hope. ’Cause there’s nothing either of us can do right now, anyway, but that.”

  Noah woke to shouting in the camp. “Someone’s coming. Someone’s coming down off the mountain.”

  Noah was up and off like a shot. Boys were gathered at the far end of the camp, peering into the swirling snow.

  Noah stared hard into the blanket of white. But he couldn’t tell if the man coming slowly down the mountainside was his uncle or not.

  Skeeter came and stood by him. “Somebody go get me a pair of binoculars!”

  Noah couldn’t just stand there and wait to see who the person coming down out of the mountains was. He ran to the barracks and got his skis. He strapped them on, and ignoring Skeeter, who yelled at him to stop, headed off toward the slope, skiing out hard and fast. Higher and higher he rose, keeping his eyes on the figure coming down. Snow pelted him. The wind blew him from side to side.

  But at last, he could see. It was his uncle!

  Noah skied up to him, stopping just short of James Shelley. He could feel tears streaming down his face, freezing on his cheeks. He stopped himself short of trying to embrace his uncle.

  “Jesus,” Shelley mumbled, his words sounding like the words of a drunken man, “stop that confounded crying, Noah Garrett, and get this monkey off my back, will you?”

  Noah looked more closely, and then he saw. Slung on his uncle’s shoulder was a man. Stiffly, James Shelley pulled the man around and handed to Noah the pilot who’d been left for dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When they arrived back at camp, Noah’s uncle collapsed.

  Both he and the pilot were taken to the hospital barracks to be treated. Noah trotted along behind them, determined not to leave his uncle’s side.

  “He has pneumonia,” the doctor pronounced after examining James Shelley.

  Noah’s uncle tossed and turned, moaning loudly.

  “His fever’s very high,” the doctor added, shaking his head.

  Noah sat by his uncle’s bed, washing away the beads of sweat that were on his forehead. “He’s not going to die, is he?”

  “I don’t know, son,” the doctor replied. “It’s a bad case, and your uncle is weak from his time on the mountain. They’re sending us a new drug soon called penicillin that someone developed to deal with pneumonia. I’ll give it to your uncle when it arrives and maybe it will help. But I’ve never used it before so I don’t know how he’ll respond.”

  Noah felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He hadn’t prayed since his parents died. Now he prayed again. He prayed long and hard.

  It couldn’t happen, he kept thinking. It just couldn’t happen to him again.

  The fever raged on for three weeks. James Shelley thrashed around, throwing his limbs wildly from side to side. He muttered in his sleep, and in his delirium spat out incoherent words and strange phrases. Noah tried not to notice when the doctor left each day after checking on him. He had given James Shelley the penicillin when it finally arrived, but still his eyebrows were knit with worry.

  Wiley, Bill, Cam, and Roger came to see him. Cam brought cookies his mother had sent, and Wiley told funny stories about things he’d heard people had muttered when they were delirious with fever. The stories made the others laugh, and Noah tried to join in but just couldn’t. They each offered to sit with Shelley while Noah got some sleep. Noah thanked them but did not take them up on their offer. He stayed right beside his uncle. If he was tired, he slept in the chair by the bed. Skeeter often slept in a chair beside him when his duties for the day were over.

  Even Daniel came by, bringing hot food for Noah and sitting with him while he tried to eat. When Noah finished and Daniel stood to leave, he put his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I told you he would make it.”

  “But will he survive?” Noah asked in anguish as he looked at his uncle, so still and almost deathlike.

  “Remember what I said in the barn, Noah,” Daniel reminded him as he left.

  Noah looked back at his uncle. The man drank excessively sometimes. He was wild and boorish and hung out with questionable folks. But Noah knew he still cared about him, in spite of all that. And so he would do as Daniel said. He’d hold on to that hope.

  A week later, Noah roused suddenly, his head having fallen onto his chest as he slept. The bed in front of him was empty!

  Noah jumped from the chair, his heart thumping wildly. He looked around. The sick ward was empty, too.

  Had his uncle died in his sleep? Had they taken his dead uncle’s body from the building without even waking Noah?

  Then he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and the door to the bathroom swung open. James Shelley stood unsteadily in the doorway, his face white and drawn.

  “Did the pilot make it?” he demanded.

  Noah almost choked with relief at seeing that his uncle’s fever had broken. “Yes, sir.”

  A slight smile touched Shelley’s lips, replaced by a frown just as quickly. “Why aren’t you out training, boy? You go soft on me while I was recovering in here?”

  Noah grinned. “My assigned duty is to watch over you.”

  “I don’t need no darn babysitter,” James Shelley argued, but his voice was weak.

  “General’s orders,” Noah told him. “You’re stuck with me.”

  “Then what are you standing there for?” his uncle demanded. “Help me to the darn bed.”

  Noah blinked back tears of gratitude, and silently prayed his thanks at the return of the surly man he had come to know and like.

  Each day, James Shelley got better. Each day, he got grouchier. By the end of two weeks, he was back to his old self.

 
; “I want a drink!” he roared at the doctor. “I just came down from the most horrendous ski of my life, and I need something to calm my nerves.”

  “I’m going to tell you the same thing I’ve told you every day this week, James Shelley,” the doctor said, unperturbed. “You’ve just pulled through pneumonia. You’re on medication, medication that doesn’t mix with alcohol. Now, unless you’re really determined to do yourself in, you’re just going to have to wait a week or two to have that drink.”

  “A week?” James Shelley roared. “I have to wait a week or two?”

  Later they set a tray of food down in front of him. He peered at it.

  “What is this crap?” he asked. “Baby food again? I keep telling them I want a real meal, not this wimpy toast and tea. I want steak and eggs.”

  Noah stifled a laugh.

  “Come here, boy,” James Shelley called. “Run over to the mess hall. Get them to rustle me up some real grub. I can’t eat this. I need more than toast and jam to keep this big body going.”

  Noah nodded and left the hospital. Outside, the camp was foot-deep in mud. The snow was melting. Spring had fully arrived while Noah sat pent up with his sick uncle.

  Skeeter came up beside Noah. “He can be a real pain when he’s confined, can’t he?”

  Noah smiled. “Yeah, he’s been running me all around since he started feeling better.”

  Skeeter laughed. “Don’t worry. I heard the doctor say another two days or so and he’ll be back training again. He’ll just have to stay on the medication for a bit longer.” Skeeter motioned with his head. “Why don’t you take a few hours off? I’ll go sit with him awhile.”

  “Thanks. Do you mind getting him some food first, though?”

  Skeeter laughed. “Sure thing.” He began to head toward the mess hall.

  “Hey, Skeeter?”

  Skeeter turned.

  “Do you ever get confused between what a person says and how they act?” Noah asked.

  “You mean your uncle?”

  Noah nodded.

  “There’s never only one side to anyone, Noah,” Skeeter said. “There’s a good side and a dark side in all of us. I suppose with your uncle it’s just easier to see both sides. Most people hide one side or the other.”

  Skeeter sighed. “Nah, nothing in this world’s ever black and white. But, Lord, wouldn’t it be nice if it was?”

  “Yeah,” Noah said. “Maybe then I’d understand how my uncle can be so tough on me sometimes and so nice to me at others.”

  Skeeter smiled. “He’s a good man, Noah. And maybe that’s all you need to understand.”

  A week later, Noah was back training with the boys. After a day of rock training, balancing his way across wet logs and huge boulders, Noah went to look for Shelley. He was hungry and excited to tell his uncle about the day. He’d beat everyone across and hadn’t fallen once, though Wiley had, more times than Noah could count.

  “Have you seen Shelley?” he asked one of the boys passing him.

  “Yeah. He was headed toward the general’s office.”

  Noah took off in that direction. As he neared the general’s office, he heard raised voices.

  “I can’t do it!” the general was yelling. “I really can’t.”

  “You’ve got to!” James Shelley insisted. “We’ve got to find a way!”

  Noah peered curiously into the general’s office. His uncle was sitting in a chair with his back to the door. The general was pacing back and forth.

  “You shouldn’t have lied to me, Shelley,” the general said. “You just shouldn’t have.”

  Noah’s uncle shrugged. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I know I never should have had Dana get me a fake birth certificate for the kid, but what else did you expect me to do with him? Send him to an orphanage?”

  “He could have been killed out there on maneuvers,” the general snapped. “That’s no place for a fifteen-year-old.”

  “He’ll be sixteen in two months. Besides, he ain’t bad, is he?” James Shelley said, grinning.

  The general sighed. “Yeah, he’s pretty good. Actually, he’s really good on the ropes, and his skiing is improving, too.”

  Then the general started pacing again. “But that’s beside the point. We’re moving to Texas now. Our time may be coming, Shelley. The Germans have finally been pushed back into Europe, and the military wants us trained in the maneuvers every army unit gets, so they’re sending us to Camp Swift. Things will be different there, more serious, more rules and regulations. I can’t have a kid with us, not until he’s sixteen. He just can’t go. I can’t do it.”

  Noah suddenly felt a lump in his throat. His head pounded.

  Noah’s uncle was silent a moment. “You’ve got to find a way, General. I want that kid with me.”

  “And if we go overseas?” the general asked. “What then?”

  “I’ll go back to his hometown while we’re in Texas, or I’ll talk to one of the military wives,” his uncle replied. “I’ll find someone to watch him while I’m there. He just won’t be in any orphanage, see, ’cause it won’t be permanent or anything.”

  The general shook his head. “I’m sorry, Shelley, but you can’t. He can’t live in the barracks down there.”

  “Then get me into married housing,” his uncle said. “They got kids there, don’t they?”

  “Married housing?” the general hooted. “How do you expect to survive that, Shelley? You’ll hate it.”

  “Just do it,” Noah’s uncle said, standing. “He’s the only family I got left, General, and maybe in the past that didn’t mean much to me. But I’m getting older, and it seems it does now. So, you gotta do it for me.”

  The general stopped pacing and looked at Noah’s uncle. “You’ve really gone soft for the kid, Shelley.”

  “I have not,” Noah’s uncle insisted. “He’s just family, like I said, that’s all.”

  The general grinned. Then he waved a hand. “Okay, okay. All this incredible sentimentality from you makes me feel like throwing up. I’ll get you into married housing. I just hope that kid appreciates what you’re doing for him.”

  Noah scrambled away from the door and around to the back of the barracks. He didn’t want his uncle to know he’d been spying on him.

  He leaned against the side of the building, feeling the warmth of the wood, and thought about what he’d heard. His uncle had said Noah mattered. He was willing to give up his way of life for him. And that woman, Dana — if it wasn’t for her, Noah would have been sent to an orphanage long ago. All these thoughts crowded his mind.

  He waited a minute or two and then came back around the side of the barracks. He was going to find his uncle. He’d tell him the truth. He’d tell him that he’d heard everything, and he’d thank him. His uncle deserved that. It was time he saw that Noah was truly grateful for what he’d done.

  He could see James Shelley already ahead of him, striding down the road of the camp. Noah ran to catch up. But just as he reached him, a man on crutches stepped out from the door of the hospital. It was the pilot. Noah stopped in his tracks.

  The pilot hobbled slowly up to James Shelley.

  “Well,” Noah’s uncle said, “looks like you’re doing okay and ready for action.”

  The pilot grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks to you all I lost was a few toes and not my life.”

  The pilot ran a hand through his hair. “Look. I want to thank you —”

  James Shelley interrupted. “Stop, stop, stop. None of that now. I just did what I’ve been trained to do, that’s all. Go back to bed, soldier. You’re looking a little wobbly still.”

  The pilot hesitated and then nodded. He stood straight and smartly saluted James Shelley. Then he turned and went back inside the hospital, closing the door behind him.

  Noah stood and watched his uncle move away, farther down the road of the camp. Noah didn’t go after him. He didn’t know how to express to his uncle what he felt for him in a way his uncle would accept. How did he
tell this reticent man that he had come to respect him and, in a strange way, care about him?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Camp Swift was forty miles from Austin, Texas. And, Noah soon discovered, a million miles from Camp Hale. While their lives at Camp Hale had been hard from a training standpoint, the rules had been lax. But at Camp Swift, law and order were strictly maintained.

  They were truly preparing for war now. On June 6, the Allies had hit the beaches in Normandy, driving the Germans deep into France. The tension and excitement over that victory were apparent everywhere at Camp Swift.

  Noah and his uncle were housed with the married officers, and Noah was banned from training. Noah’s uncle grumbled every day. “Doggone, stupid idiots. It’s one hundred and two in the shade, and they got me in ties and shoes that have to be shined.”

  Then he’d turn on Noah. “You know how lucky you are, boy? We gotta stand all day long in the heat. We gotta march up and down and down and up. We gotta shoot rifles and dig foxholes in this confounded weather.”

  Noah smiled. He remembered his first attempt at foxhole digging.

  His uncle leaned down off the bed and grabbed something running across the floor. “And they got these lizards here. And snakes, too. And Skeeter has poison oak so bad, he can’t open his left eye. How’d you ever stand it in a place like this?”

  “I don’t know, Uncle Shelley,” Noah said. “This wasn’t exactly what I remembered.”

  “So, your memory’s faulty, eh?” his uncle said, stamping toward the door. “Well, see you tonight.” He threw the door open. “If I survive the heat, that is.”

  And he was gone.

  His uncle was right. Texas wasn’t at all what Noah remembered. He had finally gotten what he’d wanted. He’d come home. He was only twenty miles from where he had been born and raised, but it could have been the other side of the world. Noah didn’t feel right at all.

  He moved idly around the house. Two weeks ago, Noah’s birthday had come and gone. With sugar in short supply, there had been no cake. And with everyone training so hard, there had been no party. He had turned sixteen.