Our Seas of Fear and Love

by Richard Shain Cohen

  “I suppose you’re right. But white for this occasion.”

  Deirdre interrupted. “Mom, I’m not getting married, only being graduated from high school. Besides, I bet most of the girls will wear white. I’ve got to stand out once we’re out of those gowns.”

  “Don’t be so taken with your looks,” although both Deirdre’s brains and looks made her mother proud. Her daughter looked more like her than her father, though Deirdre had his dark eyes and hair, including that somewhat pointed and dimpled chin. Christine’s hair was a brownish blonde and she had blue eyes, was not quite as tall as her daughter. Christine was a handsome woman and older men still followed her with their eyes.

  A saleslady asked if she could help. “I want a lavender dressy dress for graduation, ruffles at the hem, but not so long it covers my calves and ankles.” And so she found what she wanted, twirled in the dressing room mirror, then remembered the new brassiere, asking for one of the Maiden Form she had seen in Life Magazine ads. Trying that on, she was satisfied and comfortable, put on the dress again, laughed, and said aloud, “Kevin will love this.” I know what he’ll be thinking. I wonder. No. Forget it. All that soldier stuff.

  “Mom, look. You like it?”

  “Absolutely, dear.” What Christine worried about was that they had spent more than Edward would like. But how often does a daughter like ours have an occasion like this?

  That night, Deirdre was too excited to work on her speech, but the next she did.

  Graduation day was bright and cheerful. After the diplomas, the principal announced Deirdre.

  Concluding the usual introductory words, she looked at the friends and parents, sought out hers and Kevin, tears forming that she blinked back, stood straight:

  “We are graduating in a time of war, a destructive, terrifying war engulfing the world. The boys in our class will all be drafted. We cheer and support them and want them to come back to us as men ready to take their places in work, business, or college. We will miss them and assure them we will never forget them. In fact, some of the women – note I’m not calling us girls – will enter the women’s services, some work in factories or on the farms to support the war effort. Some may even marry. But what we must remember is that we owe our parents and our teachers our utmost. We who have received our diplomas today are here to support one another and our government. We stand here today, not for ourselves but for all those who have gone before us and who will follow, for all those who are part of us for all our days. We cannot forget we have come into this life to better it, to do what will better our society and ourselves, to work not for glory but for peace for all mankind and be men and women who future generations will thank for our efforts.”

  The audience rose and cheered. Deirdre smiled, nodded her head, thanked everyone again, and had to blink back her tears that now almost blinded her, everything and everyone appearing as shadows.

  _______________

  Chapter VII

  Reality

  The Cunninghams and the Harrelsons went to dinner with their children, toasted the children, the Harrelsons hiding their sorrow. Dr. Harrelson insisted he pay the bill. They excused Kevin and Deirdre after dessert, aware the two would want to be alone. Deirdre, as she expected, was remarkable in her new dress.

  When they left their parents, he told her. “Deirdre, you look stunning. I love the dress and the girl in it.” Deirdre felt a slight chill on her back and in her chest, smiled, I was right about the dress. I know what I’m doing. “Thank you, sweet. I knew you’d notice it.” ‘Me,’ she might have added, pleased with herself.

  He quickly interrupted. “I received my notice the other day. I’m to report in a week.”

  “Oh, so soon. I thought your parents seemed, well, sort of sad. I could see it in your mother’s face. Your brother’s O.K., isn’t he? Oh, he has to be. Otherwise you would have told me.” The sorrow in her voice was unfeigned. Whatever love was, she was fairly certain it was there for Kevin, although it did not overwhelm her. Her emotions now, however, the unease that she felt, were real, as rapid thoughts of war and reality flickered through her mind. Her hands were suddenly cold. She shivered.

  She would not allow this conversation to continue. They were out for a good time. Only now, he was going to leave. She would be somewhat lonely for a while. She had made up her mind too. She was definitely joining the WAAC, even if she had to fake her age. She wouldn’t even tell Kevin. “Let’s just ride and be happy.” She couldn’t help herself, however. “Are you glad you’re going?”

  “I am. I’ve been wanting to join my brother. Being in the army is exciting but somewhat scary. Being away from the family, you, makes me feel lonely.”

  “Well, I already feel that way.” She started to tell him her plan but held back until later. This was not only their graduation night, but it was also that joy of being with one another, riding, talking, listening to some good swing on the radio, soft love music sung by someone like Frances Langford or Frank Sinatra. They were eighteen, a man and a girl; no, a soon-to-be woman. He would be her soldier. What if I meet someone else? I didn’t promise to be completely loyal. Why would I? Whatever happens. No one is certain about anything in these times. But we promised we’d be together in college. Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t. He may not feel the same way about me when he gets out. But he loves me. What do I feel? I don’t feel like I’m on a cloud. It doesn’t consume me. Well, why should anything consume anybody? You’re wrong, Deirdre. You’ll be consumed by something, perhaps the WAAC, college, future work. Marriage.

  “Let’s go park, Kevin.”

  “Sure.”

  She sat next to him so they could feel one another as he drove. He took her to a spot where there would be fewer cars and parked under a tree. “This seems more private.” She agreed. It was a warm night. The windows were down. Without hesitation he turned, held her head and began kissing her. She kissed him back, moved her lips to his ear and his neck, licked him on these spots as he hunched a bit and let out a sound of satisfaction. He felt himself growing hard and tried to lean her back. She moved away a bit and toward the corner of her seat, pulling him with her. “Just be careful. I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”

  “I will.” He placed a hand on one of her breasts. “They’re beautiful the way they point through your dress.” He wished he could see them. “I’ll miss all this,” he continued, “miss you.”

  “We’ll miss each other.” She reached down and held him by his testicles, then opened his pants and moved to his penis. “It’s so hard.” She began to rub. “Take it out.” He did. “Do you have a handkerchief.”

  “Yes. But I want to put it in you so we’ll never forget,” as he lightly and reluctantly took away her hand.

  “We can’t do that.” She stopped. Why not? He’s going away. “Do you have any protection?”

  “I got some at the drug store. The guy looked at me peculiarly, probably thought I was too young to be asking for rubbers, but he let me buy them. Want to see one?”

  She was becoming excited, felt her body tremble, her vagina becoming wet. “Show it to me.” She became more excited, handling it. “Put it on. I have to see that.” He did as she asked. He felt his body tighten as she rubbed again with her hand.

  “It’s my dress, Kevin,” she used as an excuse. “And what if even with that rubber I got pregnant?”

  “Come on. You won’t get pregnant. Not with this.”

  “My dress,” she added again. “No, we can just play with one another.” Her hand went up and down on him, squeezed, lightly moved about the tip until he groaned to a finish.

  They kissed. She pressed him closely to her, whispered, “Now you can do it to me.” She spread her legs as much as the dress allowed, pulled off her panties, took his hand, moved it below her skirt and up to her clitoris. Feel it? Now just do as I tell you,” her voice still low and excited; she felt a quiver as her wetness increased. She placed her hand on his and moved it so it satisfied her, then guided him just
below to her opening. As she reached her climax, she arched her back, loudly moaned, relaxed, and took away his hand.

  “I liked all that, dearest Deirdre. Will you do it to me again and then I’ll do you?”

  “Yes.”

  Later they sat, spoke softly, telling each other they would always be together.

  ~

  One week later she went to the bus with him that would take him to Portland and eventually to Fort Devens. The first nights were extremely lonely, but he made friends fairly easily. They talked about females, about their sergeant, what they thought it would be like to fight, how anxious they were to see action. But girls were on their minds most often. Two of the recruits bragged about the women they had had. Kevin didn’t believe them. There was a lot of bragging, in fact, what some would do or accomplish, how they would confront the sergeant. Yet, no one dared. And they obeyed, as when he came in and yelled either, “Lights out,” or in the morning, “O.K. men,” thinking he joked but soon realized he wasn’t when he shouted, “Out of bed. Let go your cocks and grab your socks.”

  Kevin did not like that. Despite his experience with Deirdre, it was offensive to him. There was much that was offensive, the continuous flow of “Fuck you, fuck this or that. Did you fuck your girl before you left? You’re a fucking fool if you didn’t. And if she didn’t let you, you’ll find some whore wherever they send us.”

  After a week at Devens, they were herded to trains. It was raining quite hard at the railroad station. They stood there for at least an hour, sheltering themselves in their ponchos, some fortunate enough to get under an overhanging roof. When they had climbed aboard, thinking they would all have seats, there was another reality to confront. They guarded their duffel bags. Many sat on the floors, even slept on them, their heads on the duffel bags while a sergeant or corporal pushed through the crowded men, awakening or irritating them. Others did not seem to mind and laughed a lot at dirty jokes, keeping tired recruits from sleep, soldiers rather, for they had been such for a week. The train headed west, though no one knew it until one of the boys saw a sign reading a town in western Massachusetts. Kevin knew they weren’t far from the Mohawk Trail that he and his family had driven. It was still raining and late in the night when they boarded another train that took them south. In the morning, Kevin wished he had pen and paper so he could write to his parents, his brother, and Deirdre. He hoped she had changed her mind and gone on to Radcliffe, that the army was no place for her. By the time she received that advice, she had already told her parents what she had done and intended to do.

  ~

  Within the Cunningham family, at the end of Deirdre’s second year at Radcliffe, there was furor. Deirdre had told her parents that now being twenty, she had enlisted. In July,1943, the WAAC, by act of Congress, became the WAC, plain Women’s Army Corps with some rights similar to male soldiers.

  “Who do you think you are, Deirdre?” Her father yelled.

  “I’m old enough to make a decision.”

  “What do you know about the world? Haven’t you heard about those women that are in there,” he hesitated, “for the men, that they bed with the men?” He reddened. He had never talked about sex with his daughter. “You not only come from a good, decent family; but you have won all those honors. You’re good and must stay that way for marriage; and you’re probably the head of your class at college with all those A’s and you throw that and the WACs in our faces. I WON’T HAVE IT.” He was behaving like many men had when the WAAC was formed; some men still thought of the WACs the same way, though accepted by the general staff. They forbade their wives, fiancées, sweethearts from joining, for they would be labeled loose or prostitutes. They had even heard stories of WACs having to carry condoms with them to prevent pregnancy. A woman’s place was at home, taking care of the children, shopping, cleaning, preparing meals.

  “Dad,” she pushed back. “Listen to me.” Yet it was a rare time she had shrunk from Edward, he was so angry, yelling at her, approaching her with his fists clenched, then reaching for his belt and about to snatch it off.

  Christine was crying and hurt, but noticing Edward’s movement, finally recovered to stop his hand. Still crying, hurt, she hoarsely and loudly managed, “Edward. Don’t you dare.”

  “She’s always been like this. I never wanted to say it again, but she’s a sneak, always has been, and I won’t tolerate it anymore.”

  “EDWARD,” Christine screamed. “STOP. I won’t let you talk about her that way.” She knew, however, that their daughter was not always honest with them. She’ll get over that as she matures. And she does have a right at twenty to start making up her own mind without us. She’ll mature. Maybe this will be good for her, the discipline and knowing she’s directly helping her country, all of us.

  The tears still flowing down her cheeks, she looked at her daughter, struck by that tall girl with a woman’s body, thinking of the agony it might someday endure, that she had in bearing her.

  Deirdre, watching her mother, started to cry herself. “Mother, daddy, I’m not a sneak or someone who does things in secret. It’s just that,” as the crying made her throat catch, “I wanted to surprise you, let you know. Well, they did tell me at Radcliffe, I would probably still have the scholarship waiting, depending on events at school. And I didn’t want to upset you.” She thought quickly. “I wanted you to be proud of me doing something good and something you would be pleased with. It seemed to me that if I told you what I wanted and you agreed, that I’d be taking something away from Kevin.”

  This last angered Edward again. He did not believe her. He looked at Christine and started to ask, “ Kevin, what has he to do with it? You don’t believe all this malarkey, do you?” but stopped himself.

  He looked at Deirdre, knowing he loved her, at Christine, knowing, too, these were the two loves of his life. He was proud of his daughter, enjoyed watching people when he walked with her, the way heads turned. Yet, that was not enough. He wanted her to be as outstandingly honest as her mother. Yet her father’s anger scared her in a way she had never before experienced. She pictured herself, her bottom black and blue, the pain unbearably searing her body, perhaps her arm colored from his grip. She knew he would never touch her face. She knew he would never hit her, in fact. His wrath now, though, was entirely different. She backed away, thinking him a brute, called out to Christine. Christine stepped between them. “What’s wrong with your mind, EDWARD. You’re acting insanely. STOP. NOW. I mean it. You hit her, and we’ll both leave this house. I MEAN IT.”

  Edward turned away from them, shaking, trying hard to settle himself, then suddenly crying. He turned to them. “Deirdre,” shaking from tears and the calming anger, “I never thought you would be so underhanded. We’ve loved you so, done all we could for you, and you have honored us and your school.” With his back to them, crying harder at her deception, he left the room. Christine followed. Deirdre, alone, started to cry, wondering about this change in her life and the protection she had always known. It took this to make me realize what kind of person I am. I’ll change somehow. But I’m old enough to do what I want. Why am I to blame? I am scared. I’m going to be with many women older than I. I’ll learn so much from them. My mom and dad should not be mad at me but proud as they were when I was valedictorian and how my grades were the best in the school and how good they are now. I’ll be serving my country. Boys go at eighteen. I suppose it won’t be much fun sometimes. Think of the places I’ll go, though, what I’ll be able to do, at least, I hope.

  ~

  Fort Devens and Basic Training – About the middle of June, Deirdre was inducted into the WAC. She took the tests and scored quite high, marking her for further attention by her superiors. She liked the uniform, except for the underwear that she managed to manipulate so it would show her upper body. Getting accustomed to the shoes was difficult. Despite these minor irritations, she was proud. She was good in basic training, exercised without complaint, except like most new trainees, complained about the l
ack of privacy in the shower. It was, though, the tear gas room that unsettled her somewhat. She thought of D-Day, wondering whether Kevin had been in that. He had been in Africa with the tank corps. But D-Day. The dead. She imagined him lying on the beach or in a burned-out tank. This part of the training also further aroused her desire to ship overseas to England. She had heard about the work that some of the women were doing in the OSS and wanted to be with them.

  One day she and three others heard their names called while in formation. “Report to the commanding officer.” Entering Captain Lewis’s office, she smartly saluted, stood at attention. “Cunningham, we decided according to your test scores, we want you in cryptographer school and map reading also. What do you say to that?”

  “I’d love it, Captain.” She could not help herself. “Will I get to go overseas?”

  “I like your enthusiasm, but there’s space in this country as well, so I can’t say,” The captain smiled. “You do well, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  She watched the smile on Deirdre’s face, admiring the looks of the young woman and her enthusiasm. Perhaps she may have thought she’d make a good agent, or perhaps, despite only two years in college, they should recommend her for officer training. “That’s it, private. You show us what you can do. Do it well, and congratulations.”

  Deirdre wanted to run back to the barracks and tell her friends, the few with whom she had become close, but decided to say nothing for now. Instead, she went through the basic training exercises in her seersucker uniform, marched and never complained, did the foot exercises that were to help them get used to the shoes and the marching. When the men found out about the shoes and the marching, they laughed and had one more reason to make fun of the women who should be at home in the kitchen, waiting for their sweethearts, or having babies if married, unless they worked in factories and the shipyards, or flew as WAFs.