American Triumph: 1939-1945: 4 STORIES IN 1

by Susan Martins Miller, Norma Jean Lutz, Bonnie Hinman

  CHAPTER 15

  Summertime

  Every time Mandy walked through their living room and saw the beautiful encyclopedia set with its embossed burgundy covers, she wanted to burst with pride. She told everyone in the family that they were welcome to use the books at any time. “Just make sure you put them back where they belong, and don’t handle them with dirty hands.”

  The evening after the contest, Mama let them all stay up until Dad arrived home. They were all in the kitchen when he arrived, and together they had a celebration in Mandy’s honor. Dad looked tired, but she could tell he was very happy.

  “Mandy, I don’t know what happened to cause you to care about your studies again,” he said, “but whatever it was, I’m so grateful.”

  After that, the school year was a breeze. Other kids began to talk to her. Even Dennis smiled and said hello when they passed in the hallways and saw one another out on the playground. While Elizabeth wasn’t at all polite, she stopped attacking Mandy.

  Now if someone called her Mandy Einstein, it didn’t sound like an insult. It sounded like a compliment, and people smiled when they said it.

  Each evening, Mama listened closely to Edward R. Murrow’s news reports. As a European correspondent, Murrow gave the news right on the spot. The news in May was not good. All of Holland had been overrun by the Nazis in four short days. Belgium was taken almost as quickly.

  “Like little dominoes,” Mama said. She kept her chair close to the big console radio in the living room and listened as she knitted blankets and clothing for those in need who were in the midst of war.

  School came to an end, and the wonderful, happy, carefree days of summer arrived. John built a wagon for the twins. He tied it to his bicycle, and with Mandy on her skates, the four of them traveled throughout the neighborhood. John spent hours in the backyard practicing the new jujitsu moves that Baiko and Dayu had taught him. In turn, he tried to teach them to Ben.

  Mama let them go to the drugstore for candy and double-dip ice cream cones, which dripped sticky drops on them all the way home. And Saturday movie matinees became part of every week.

  That first Saturday in June, they went to see a Gene Autry Western. The twins liked Gene Autry. Mandy’s favorite Western star was Roy Rogers. John liked Tom Mix because Tom just “chased the bad guys and didn’t stop to sing songs.”

  But first there was the Movietone newsreel, and that’s where they learned about the evacuation from Dunkirk, France. The film showed British soldiers who had been trying to keep Germany from invading France running away from Hitler’s army. The British government sent anything that could float across the English Channel to bring their soldiers home. Mandy watched ordinary citizens risk their lives to get destroyers, tugs, cross-channel packets, paddle-wheel ferries, fishing boats, yachts, and dinghies across the water. Many made the trip again and again.

  “When the evacuation was over,” said the booming voice, “more than three hundred thousand men had been carried to safety. While it was a triumph of undaunting human spirit, it is at the same time a military disaster.”

  Mandy knew from what she’d heard Mama and Dad saying that France now stood totally alone in Europe. Could they hold Hitler at bay? The world would find out soon enough.

  A couple weeks later, Mandy came into the living room to see her mother weeping. “Mama,” she said, hurrying over to her chair. “What is it? It’s not Mark, is it?”

  Mama dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief and shook her head. “France stood so strong through the Great War. She sacrificed so many of her sons. And now she’s fallen. It’s a sad day in history, Mandy. A very sad day for a glorious people.”

  Mandy didn’t know what to make of it all. Even Italy, whom most Americans felt would side with the Allies, had declared war on both Britain and France earlier in the month. Was there a country in the world that wasn’t at war?

  And then there was the election coming that fall. Dad and Mama and Peter and Lora discussed it at length whenever the four of them were together—usually on Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons. No one knew for sure what President Roosevelt’s plans were. Would he run for office for a third term? No president in history had ever served for three full terms. It was unheard of.

  “I’m sure he must be weary,” Mama said, her knitting needles clicking in rhythm. A fan by the window was moving the warm, humid air around the living room.

  “Yes,” Dad agreed. “But changing horses in the middle of the stream could be disastrous. We desperately need his leadership now.”

  Mandy and Susan were lying on the living room floor as Mandy helped Susan cut out her new Shirley Temple paper dolls from the paper doll book. Susan had already accidentally cut off the pant leg of one of the cute ski outfits, so she’d asked Mandy to help. At Dad’s words, Susan looked up.

  “Where’s the horse, Dad?” she asked.

  “It’s just a figure of speech, Susan,” Mandy explained. “There’s not really any horse.”

  “Good leadership is always necessary for a country like ours,” Dad went on, “but at a time like this, it’s vital. We need Roosevelt just like Britain needs Churchill.”

  At the next Saturday matinee, Mandy saw film clips of Hitler standing outside the railway carriage where he’d forced France’s officials to surrender. More than a million French, the narrator said, had been taken as prisoners. Mandy couldn’t picture a million people—especially not as prisoners. It was just too awful to comprehend.

  “We helped the French in the last war,” John said that evening at supper, “why don’t we help them now?”

  Mandy wondered the same thing. Couldn’t someone do something to help?

  Mama shook her head. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

  “You see, John,” Peter spoke up, “war is a terrible thing. It costs a great deal of money, and more than that, it costs lives. Many Americans feel that the war in Europe is none of our business. They think we should stay out of it.”

  “But will Hitler allow us to keep minding our own business?” John asked.

  “That, my dear brother,” Peter said, slapping John on the shoulder, “is a very, very good question. One I hope Congress will soon address.”

  Dad and Mama both seemed to breathe a little easier when they learned that Roosevelt had agreed to run again. At the Democratic convention in July, he was nominated on the very first ballot. And because her parents were pleased, Mandy was pleased as well.

  Several times during the summer, when Mandy was able to slip away to Kinnear Park to be alone and read, she’d see Helga. But she made no attempt to be friendly to the girl. She didn’t even wave. Helga sometimes glanced in her direction. Mandy would look at her and then look back at her book and keep on reading. If Helga didn’t want to be friends, there was nothing Mandy could do about it.

  One afternoon as Mandy was strapping on her skates, a voice from behind her said, “You dropped this.”

  Helga was holding out the special bookmark that Miss LaFayette had given Mandy. It was a gift for having won the quiz contest.

  “Thank you, Helga. I wouldn’t have wanted to lose that. It’s special to me.”

  Helga nodded. “I thought so. Miss LaFayette likes you a lot.”

  Mandy didn’t know what to say to that. She put the bookmark in her library book and strapped on her other skate. Just then it occurred to her that Helga would never be able to skate. It was a sad thought. No one probably had any idea how much this girl suffered because she was lame.

  Mandy determined to try once again to be nice. But when she looked up, Helga was gone. Shaking her head, she wondered if it had been this hard for King David to get to know Mephibosheth.

  CHAPTER 16

  Helga’s Visit

  When Mandy opened her eyes, it was still dark. What had awakened her? she wondered. She punched at her pillow, turned over, and tried to go back to sleep. There it was again. Whimpering. Mandy sat up in bed and looked over at Susan. Her little sister was ki
cking and whimpering in her sleep.

  Mandy slipped out of bed and stepped over to her sister’s bed. “Susan,” she said softly. Then she lay her hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Susan, honey, what’s the matter? Are you having a dream?”

  Susan roused a little. “A bad dream,” she said.

  “Here’s your Shirley Temple doll.” Mandy picked up the doll from the floor and put it in Susan’s waiting arms.

  Susan mumbled her thanks and went back to sleep.

  The bad dreams came several times over the next few nights. Finally Mandy felt she should tell Mama about it.

  “It’s those movies you children have been seeing,” was Mama’s explanation. “I probably shouldn’t let the little ones go with you.”

  Mandy had to admit the newsreels had been pretty scary lately. But when Mama said something about the twins not going to the movies every Saturday, they pitched such a fit, she decided to relent.

  Mandy talked with Susan, trying to find out if something was bothering her, but Susan just shrugged her little shoulders and said everything was all right. Mandy wished she knew how to help her little sister stop having nightmares.

  One afternoon when John was in the backyard practicing jujitsu with Ben, Mandy asked Susan if she’d like to walk to the park, just the two of them. Susan’s eyes lit up.

  “I sure would,” she said

  After getting Mama’s permission, they were on their way. Susan held tightly to Mandy’s hand as they walked up one hill and down another until they reached Kinnear Park. Mandy took her sister to the playground, where they played on the slippery slide and swings until they were hot and sweaty.

  They bought cones of sweetened shaved ice from the sidewalk vendor and took them to the lily pond. There they ate the refreshing treat and watched the shiny goldfish. The paper cones got all soggy before they were half finished with them. Susan’s had a little leak in the bottom, trailing red drips down the front of her playsuit. After Susan drank the very last drops, Mandy took the cups to the trashcan. When she came back to where Susan was sitting, Helga was looking at them.

  “You don’t have a book,” she said to Mandy.

  It was like a statement and a question all mixed together. “No, I don’t. I came to play with Susan.” Motioning to Susan, she said, “This is my little sister, Susan.”

  Helga nodded. “I saw you walk her home from school every day at lunch.”

  “Oh yeah. I guess you did.” Turning to Susan, she said, “Susan, this is one of my classmates. Her name is Helga Gottman.”

  Susan looked up and said, “Hi, Helga. Sit down with us. Want to?”

  And Helga did.

  Making conversation with Helga was not an easy job, but at least Mandy learned more than she’d ever known before.

  “My grandpa was here before any of these fancy people,” Helga said, waving her hand in the air as though to take in all of Queen Anne Hill. “He says we were first. We were first.”

  Mandy wasn’t sure what to say, but Susan piped up and said, “We just came last year. So we’re sort of new.”

  “I’m not new here,” Helga said. “I’ve lived here ever since I was born.”

  “Do you live with your grandfather?” Mandy asked.

  Helga nodded. “I live with Grandpa.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Dead,” she said. And that was that. She got up to leave.

  “Come by to see us at our house sometime,” Susan said.

  “Yes, Helga,” Mandy added. “Come for a visit.” She called out the address, but Helga walked away without looking back.

  An orphan. Helga was as alone as Little Orphan Annie in the funny papers. Only she didn’t have any Daddy Warbucks. Or even a nice dog named Sandy.

  “Thank you for taking me to the park,” Susan said to Mandy as they walked back home. “I like being with you.”

  “You’re welcome, Susan.”

  Later, Mandy thought about what Susan had said. It sounded like something she would have said to Peter or Lora. She loved to be with them and have them pay attention to her. But both of them were so busy. Lora was hardly ever at home anymore. And Peter was either working or studying. It never occurred to Mandy that Susan might feel left out as well. Had her little sister needed her when she had her nose stuck in a book all the time? Or when she tried to get off by herself?

  Perhaps being with Susan wasn’t like being the baby of the family after all. Perhaps it was time for Mandy to take her place in the family as Susan’s older sister.

  The next time Susan had a nightmare, she mumbled words instead of just kicking the covers. Mandy hurried over to see if she could make any sense of the mumbling. She sat on the edge of Susan’s bed and leaned her head down close. The words sounded like, “I don’t know. I don’t know how. It’s too hard.” Then she started whimpering.

  “What’s too hard, Susan? Tell Mandy. What’s too hard?”

  In the dim glow of the night-light, she saw Susan’s eyes flutter open. Then she sat up and threw her arms around Mandy’s neck, clinging to her so tightly, Mandy thought she was going to be choked. “I don’t wanna go,” she wailed pitifully.

  “Wait, wait a minute.” With Susan still clinging to her neck, Mandy lifted her little sister so she could reach the lamp on the bedside table. “Wake up, Susan. Tell me what you were dreaming about.”

  Susan let go of Mandy’s neck and rubbed her eyes with her fists. She looked up at Mandy. “I had a dream.”

  “I know. A bad dream. Now tell me what it was about.”

  Snuggling close to Mandy, she said, “Don’t make me have to go to first grade, Mandy. I’m scared.”

  Mandy buried her face in Susan’s soft curls. “Now, how can a big girl like you be scared of school?” she asked. “That’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of.” She leaned back and looked at Susan’s worry-filled little face. “You’ve already been in school for a whole year. Why are you afraid now?”

  Mandy remembered a year ago when Susan was dancing all over the room in her excitement to go to kindergarten. Mandy was the one who had been afraid and dreaded going.

  “That was kindergarten.” Susan reached over and pulled Shirley Temple onto her lap. “All we do in kindergarten is play. First grade is real hard. I don’t even know how to read.”

  Mandy shook her head. So that was what was causing the bad dreams. “Who told you first grade was so hard?”

  “Mary.”

  “And who is Mary?”

  “A girl in my kindergarten class.”

  Mandy put her arm around Susan and pulled her close. “If Mary was in kindergarten with you, how does she know about first grade?”

  Susan shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “She doesn’t know. But I do, because I’ve been in first grade. And I can tell you that you will do fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure I’m sure. Would I lie to my favorite little sister?”

  Susan laughed. “I’m your only little sister.”

  “Tell you what. Tomorrow you and I will get a storybook, and I’ll show you some words and tell you what the letters are. Would you like that?”

  “You hear that, Shirley Temple?” Susan said to the doll in her lap. “Mandy’s gonna help me learn to read.”

  “Now you lie down and go back to sleep.” Mandy leaned down and kissed her sister’s face. “Everything’s going to be all right. G’night, honey.”

  “’Night, Mandy.”

  “Our Gal Sunday,” the radio announcer said, “the story of an orphan girl named Sunday from the little mining town of Silver Creek, Colorado …”

  Mama turned the radio up a little. Mandy knew this was one of her favorite shows. Mandy was putting the iron and ironing board away. The twins had had their lunch, and Mama had put them down for a nap. Mandy was glad the ironing was finished. It was too hot to iron. Peter was asleep on the couch. He’d had a wisdom tooth extracted that morning, so his boss told him to stay home. Mama had trie
d her best to keep everyone quiet so he could rest.

  “The story that asks the question,” the announcer of Our Gal Sunday went on, “can this girl from a mining town in the West find happiness as the wife of a wealthy and titled Englishman, Lord Henry Brinthrope?”

  Mandy knew there was never going to be an answer to that question. If the question were answered, the show would be over.

  Just then, a knock sounded at the front door. Mandy hurried to answer it before the noise woke Peter. To her surprise, Helga stood at the door. “I came to visit,” the girl said in her raspy voice. “Like you said.”

  CHAPTER 17

  New Friends

  Mandy stood at the door dumbfounded. What was she supposed to say? Or do? Helga evidently had no idea it was not polite to drop in for a visit without phoning first.

  “Hello, Helga. Won’t you come in? It’s good to see you.”

  She led Helga into the kitchen. “Mother,” she said, “this is Helga Gottman. From school.”

  “Welcome, Helga. I remember seeing you at school.” Mandy could tell by the look on Mama’s face that she was thinking back. “At the Christmas program, I believe it was.”

  Mandy winced. Why did her mother have to mention the Christmas program, of all things? But to her surprise, Helga smiled. Mandy hadn’t seen the girl smile very often.

  “The program,” she said, “when I fell down.”

  “Oh, yes.” Mother laughed. “That’s right. I believe both of you took a tumble that night.” She folded a damp dish towel and hung it over the rods above the sink. “The twins are napping in my bedroom, Mandy. Why don’t you take Helga to your room?”

  Mandy wasn’t sure what she was going to do once they got to her room. Never had she felt so awkward. She led the way upstairs and down the hallway toward her room. “My older sisters’ room is here,” she said, waving a hand in that direction. “And Susan and I are right in here.”

  “Pretty,” Helga said as she stepped inside. “Your room is pretty.” She looked around. “Do you have your own radio?”