“Ready?”
“Yeah. I want you to see—”
Helen came out in—well, he wasn’t sure what it was—a slip? Or the skimpiest nightgown he’d ever seen.
“Do you like it?” She bit her bottom lip.
She looked more beautiful than he’d imagined. And he had imagined. “I like it.”
“Peggy and the gals went in on it. I think it cost an awful lot.”
“Worth every penny.”
She darted to the bed as if the ground were cold, which it wasn’t. Then she pulled back the covers and shimmied under them. They sat for a minute, Frank at her feet, neither of them speaking. They were medical professionals and could explain to a roomful of people the mechanics and biology of what they were about to do together. But suddenly Frank wondered if he knew anything at all about wedding nights. And Helen looked every bit as nervous as he felt.
Her gaze darted around the room. “Say, what’s this?”
“Schnapps,” Frank answered, without looking.
Helen picked up the stuffed dog. “Well, how do you do, Schnapps? You’re as cute as you can be.”
Frank realized his mistake. “No, I meant—” He stopped. Schnapps. Somehow it felt like the perfect name for the little dog. “Do you like it?”
“I love our first dog!” She pretended to whisper in the dog’s pointy ear. “You and I will be great friends. You can keep me company when Daddy is away.”
Daddy? Frank hadn’t given that concept much thought. In theory, he kind of liked the idea of a son. Or a daughter. But for now, he’d probably have to work too hard at being the daddy of a stuffed dog. “Schnapps, ol’ boy,” he said, taking the dog from Helen and setting him on the floor, “we grown-ups have some grown-up business to take care of.” He shut off the lamp, grateful that enough light shone through the window to let him see every inch of his new wife.
Frank was pretty sure he hadn’t slept all night. His neck and shoulder ached. He hadn’t wanted to move Helen’s beautiful head off his shoulder, so he’d been trapped for the last couple of hours in an uncomfortable position. He didn’t mind at all. He’d choose this over any other spot on earth. He’d thought he was the happiest man in the world when Helen said, “I do.”
Now he knew it.
BATTLE CREEK, MICHIGAN
Two letters. Helen grabbed them from Bill and hurried back to her bunk. She ripped open the letter from Frank. He’d finally gotten a three-day leave so he could come back to Battle Creek this weekend. They’d been married over a month, but she hadn’t seen her husband since their honeymoon. Twice, she and Frank had made plans to rendezvous, only to have leaves canceled at the last minute. She held her breath as she unfolded the thin sheets of paper—only two pages—and read the first sentence: My darling, they did it again.
Helen burst into tears.
Peggy was there in an instant. “Helen? What’s happened? It’s not Frank, is it?”
Helen nodded.
“Aw, honey.” Peggy sat next to her and put an arm around her.
“He’s . . . not . . . coming,” Helen said between sniffles.
Peggy looked relieved. “I thought . . . well, I thought it was worse news. I’ve never seen you cry before.”
“I will never understand the Army! They do everything to keep married couples apart, but cut their paychecks because they’re married.”
“I thought you two were trying to keep your marriage on the down-low as long as possible so you’d each get your own paycheck,” Peggy said.
“We did try, but you can’t fool the US Army. Peggy, I miss Frank like crazy. It’s not fair.”
Peggy tapped the crumpled letter in Helen’s lap. “His letters help, don’t they?”
She nodded. Writing Frank three times a day helped ease the pain of separation, especially since he wrote just as often.
Peggy got up. “Then I’ll leave you to it. Wish I could smuggle you out in my duffel bag. When you write that husband of yours, tell him Peggy says he needs to go AWOL.”
Helen couldn’t quite muster a smile, but she stopped crying. She hated to cry, especially in front of someone. “Thanks, Peggy. I’m just being a baby.”
When she was alone again, Helen smoothed out the crumpled letter and read, skipping that awful first sentence. The rest of page one, as always, was filled with love and longing. She wondered what that felt like for a man. None of her brothers, with the exception of Eugene, ever talked about the girls they fell for. Was Frank’s longing for her as deep as hers for him? When he signed a letter With love, was his love as strong as hers?
The second page turned out to be for Schnapps, even though Frank knew full well that she’d shipped the stuffed dog to Cissna Park for safekeeping. She smiled, remembering the night Frank gave her their “first dog.”
Dear Schnapps,
There’s something I need to get off my chest. Lately, I’ve had a lot of time to think about your wonderful mother/my wonderful wife. Our honeymoon was perfect. Yet there is one thing that’s perturbed me. It was something your mother said in a recent letter, something about “kowtowing” to me and doing everything I wanted her to. Does she feel that I don’t try to do everything I think she wants me to? Does she really think I would take advantage of her because she is so obliging and considerate? I only hope to be more obliging and considerate of her.
Be good and take care of your mother, for I love her more than anything.
With love,
Daddy Frank
Helen felt tears threatening to return. She’d wanted to go dancing on their honeymoon, but Frank wanted to go on a walk. She’d given in. But later, in one of her letters, she’d written about that decision, saying she didn’t mind kowtowing to him. That’s what my mother always did, she’d added. Helen had written it without much thought. She hadn’t really meant it, had she? But maybe she had, at least enough to hurt Frank and make him bring it up after all this time.
She replaced the letter in its envelope and set it aside. Then she opened her other letter. It was from Dotty—this woman she’d never met, who was now her sister-in-law.
Dotty Daley Engel
12 Aug 1944
Dear Helen and Frank,
I had a card from Boots (my husband) last week! It must be from him because they wouldn’t know to call him Boots. I’m enclosing it with this note, but please hang on to it for me. (Remembering Frank’s penchant for losing things, like my yearbook and his house key, I’m sending this to Helen.)
1. I am interned at Philippine Military Prison Camp No. 1.
2. My health is excellent.
3. Message:
Will not lose much time in words being limited. Am looking forward to the day when I hear from you as no word has been received. Hope everybody is well and time short when we will be together again. Best to all, love, Bootsy, Emanuel Engel, Jr.
Tears came again, a quieter cry, filled with shame and guilt. Dotty and her husband had been apart for two years, rather than one month. Yet her letters weren’t pouts and poor-poor-me rants. What would Helen do if Frank ended up captured and imprisoned? Or worse?
There it was again. Nausea swept over her at the speed of light, wiping out every other thought. She barely had time to bolt from her bunk and make it to the latrine.
“Not again, Helen!” Victoria scurried out of the way. “That’s disgusting.”
Lydia, one of the new nurses, came to stand in the doorway. Tall and slender, she would have looked more at home behind the perfume counter at Marshall Field’s than behind a scalpel with the 199th. The other gals had already passed a thumbs-down on her, but Helen liked her. What they saw as arrogance, Helen believed to be a combination of sophistication and shyness. “Honestly,” Lydia said, “if the Nazis don’t get us, the mess hall will.”
Helen thought she might have caught one of the diseases floating around Percy Jones Hospital.
A week later, she knew she was wrong.
Battle Creek, MI
15 September 1
944
My dear, dear Frankie,
I have some news to tell you, and I hope you can be happy about it. Or at least not too upset. You and I haven’t even had the time we need to be husband and wife. How I wish we had more time together!
I’m delaying, aren’t I? Is your wife a coward?
What I’m trying to say is that Schnapps is going to have a little brother or sister. There. I said it. Are you sitting down? I suppose I should have asked that first.
Darling, I have so much to say, but I want to hear from you first. Please tell me it’s all right? Tell me you’re happy. I am. But I can’t truly be happy unless you are.
With love,
Helen
Dear Frankie,
You’re lucky you don’t have to watch your wife vomit. Not a pretty sight. Everybody here thinks I have the flu, so they’re keeping their distance. I wasn’t even allowed to take my shift this morning.
Hey, you. I thought I’d have a phone call by now. I know you have to sneak out for that. Hopefully, by the time you get this we will have talked, and we’ll both see what a dumb Dora I’ve been to worry about what you’re thinking of our big news. It’s understandable if you’re not excited yet, what with all we have ahead of us, but I know you will be. We are so blessed. This baby will have the happiest life! Schnapps agrees. In fact, Schnapps and I have been tossing around names. What do you think of Maureen? (Only if Schnapps is having a sister, of course.)
We’re waiting for that phone call. But a letter will be all right, too.
Still your loving wife,
Helen
Dearest Frankie,
Still no word from you. I don’t really know what to do. Nobody suspects that Schnapps is expecting a sibling, and I want to keep it that way until I can talk to you. When should we tell our families? Maybe I could stay here at Percy, although I’m not certain the Army will keep me on once they know about the addition to our family.
20 September 1944
You will never guess where I am as I write this letter. Do you remember where we met? I’d run away from the amputee patients and ended up in the men’s restroom, where I met my husband, the dashing Frank Daley. Well, here I am again, standing over the sink and wondering what on earth I’ve gotten myself into. I couldn’t quite make it to the latrine for ladies, so I dashed in here to rack my body with dry heaves, as if my insides were being scraped. When I splashed water on my face and caught my reflection in the mirror, I had to agree with Lydia. I look like death curdled. She also said that it’s a good thing my handsome husband isn’t around to see me. On that note, I disagree.
22 September 1944
Frankie, if you’re in shock, or denial, you can still call or write me, can’t you? We never talked about children, and it’s understandable that husbands and wives—fathers and mothers—feel differently about babies. Sweetheart, everybody is getting mail except me. This total silence from the father of my child is driving me insane. Maybe you need time. Well, I don’t have time, Frankie. Any day now, my unit will be called up.
Still with love,
Your Helen
Dear Frank,
This is the longest I’ve gone without hearing from you. I’ve tried to call you twice, but nobody would put me through. In my rational moments, which are few and far between, I believe that you are not at fault. I imagine you as frustrated as I am because you want to tell me you’re pleased about Baby.
I won’t even tell you what I picture in my irrational moments.
24 September 1944
Dear Frank,
As I feel this pregnancy has altered our relationship as well as our plans, I realize I must make some decisions for me and for my baby. You don’t need to worry about us. Dad always said, “God helps those who help themselves.” And that’s what I’ll do. When it’s time, I’ll talk to the colonel about getting reassigned to stateside duty, perhaps staying on at Percy Jones for as long as possible. I have no doubt that I could get my former job back at Evanston Hospital, but I’ll need help with the baby for a while. I’ll write my mother in a few weeks and arrange to have the birth in Cissna Park. I could even work for Dr. Roberts there for a time.
You and I need to talk. And you need to write.
Be safe,
Helen
CAMP ELLIS, ILLINOIS
Frank had never been angrier at the Army. No mail in. No mail out. No word from Helen in weeks.
“Attention!” Sergeant Miller burst into the barracks, barking like the career sergeant he was. The 11th General Dispensary fell into straight rows in front of bunks.
“This must be big,” Lartz whispered.
Frank had to agree when Colonel Croane marched in, followed by General Blaine. The guy didn’t pop over for routine inspections. Blaine saluted. “Soldiers, our time has come. We need you and your skills overseas, now more than ever. Tomorrow at this time you’ll be on your way to an undisclosed staging area on the East Coast, where your unit will await transport to the European theater.”
“Europe?” Anderson echoed.
Murmurings passed up and down the line like electrical currents. Every man in the unit had put in for the Pacific.
“You heard correctly,” General Blaine said, his tone stern, with no hint of apology. “This is the Army, soldiers, not a travel agency. You go where you’re needed. We are launching final attacks in Europe, and the enemy is pushing back hard, sending us more casualties than anticipated. That’s where you come in.”
Anderson groaned, and he wasn’t the only one.
Not Frank. He punched Anderson’s shoulder. “Europe, Andy!”
Anderson rubbed his arm. “I heard.”
“Way to go, Daley,” Lartz said.
Europe! He and Helen would be on the same continent! He could find her, be with her.
The colonel took over and rattled instructions. “Pack wools, gents. We bug out in twenty-four hours.”
Frank had to get word to Helen. Somebody asked a question, but Frank missed it.
“No,” Colonel Croane answered. “That’s all I can tell you about locations, and it’s a good deal more than you can tell anyone outside the 11th General. None of this leaves the barracks, understood?”
General Blaine stepped forward, and Frank could see hints of why a man like this, who looked more like somebody’s unmarried and annoying uncle than a four-star general, had risen in the ranks. He eyed the men one by one, as if mowing them down with machine-gun fire. Nobody moved. “I understand your disappointment,” he began. “But we are not playing at war, gentlemen. This is the real thing. One leak, one slip of the tongue, and you could put your entire unit in peril.”
Once they were gone, the whole unit descended on Sergeant Miller as if he were the enemy.
“Hang on, will you?” Sarge shouted. “We have our orders. Nobody uses the telephone. They’re releasing mail this afternoon, so I’ll get that for you. Those letters will be the last until we’re on the other side.”
“Are you serious?” Frank demanded. “The Army can trust us to patch up its fighting men, but it can’t trust us to get mail?”
Sarge shrugged.
Frank wouldn’t give up that easily. “If I write my wife, could somebody here mail the letters after we leave?”
“It would take a whole battalion to mail your letters,” Anderson said.
“And an ant could mail yours, Andy.”
Sarge ran his fingers over his head, as if forgetting that he no longer had hair. “Write your letters. I’ll make sure someone mails them soon as they’re censored. Which reminds me: film on censorship tonight at seventeen hundred hours.”
Frank raced to his bunk to write Helen. He hoped he remembered the code. First letter, every other sentence after the cue.
Lt. F. R. Daley, MD
25 September 1944
Dearest Helen,
How I’ve missed hearing from you! I hope you’ve been receiving my letters. Big news, my darling! I wish I could tell you where we’re going, bu
t the censors would cut this letter into pieces. So I’ll have to drown my sorrows in a big bowl of banana pudding.
Everywhere I go, I think of you. I had hoped we’d meet at Camp Ellis before I left for the staging theater. Until Sarge returns with mail, I feel lost. I have no idea when you’ll leave Percy. Really, the only thing that keeps me going is your love.
I now enjoy saving from my measly paycheck each month, for our family.
Oh, my base pay is $166.67, with a 10% increase for overseas: $16.67. And they take out $21.00 food ration.
Please know I buy war bonds for $37.50 and insurance for $6.80 each month too. I hope to put into our savings account $90.00. Each month, that leaves $28.04 to be paid to me directly overseas.
Helen, we shall meet soon!
Love,
Frankie
That evening when Sergeant Miller delivered mail to the barracks, he was mobbed. Frank only had two letters, both from Helen, dated a week apart. “Sarge, are you sure this is all you’ve got for me?”
“Not Helen’s usual dozens?” Anderson said. “Guess the bloom is off the rose, as they say.”
Frank ignored him. “There have to be more. Could you look again, Sarge? I’m begging you.”
Sarge sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”
Frank went back to his bunk and carefully opened the first letter. Everything else disappeared as he read Helen’s words. By the end of the letter, he was so worried about her nausea that he was considering going AWOL to take care of her. The date on her second letter was a week after the first. The Army’s mail delivery was a mystery, and Helen probably had written letters that would show up later. But what if she was really sick, so sick she couldn’t even write?
He tore into Helen’s second letter and skimmed it. Then he reread the sentence that would change his life forever: What I’m trying to say is that Schnapps is going to have a little brother or sister.
He read it again. I’m going to be a dad. A daddy. He surprised himself, the way he felt. He knew he should be worried about bringing a child into the world. But this would be Helen’s child, Helen’s and his. He let out a whoop that could be heard all the way to Missouri.
With Love, Wherever You Are Page 15