“I’ve led bombing missions into Germany with the Royal Air Force. You could say I have a good idea of what landed me here, even if I can’t recall the particular circumstances.”
“That’s why your certificate said you were in Cologne . . .” Charlotte lowered her voice to a whisper so Will’s neighbor, a young airman in training, wouldn’t overhear. “Do you think you were shot down?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Yes, I think my plane was hit. That doesn’t fully explain the extent of my injuries, though. I’m convinced my parachute tore during the fall. That’s the only way my body could shatter like it did.”
Her eyes stung as she imagined him plummeting toward the ground. “You’re very lucky. You might not have survived at all.”
Will shrugged. “There’s no pain in death.”
A single tear fell from her eye. She wiped it away hastily. “You can’t think that way.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m just not afraid of death anymore. I’ve also come to realize life’s too short not to pursue what you want.”
Charlotte studied her fingernails. Her eye contact with Will suddenly discomfited her. She forced a smile and steered the conversation along a lighter route. “You’re a fighter pilot? Did you fly before the war?”
Will nodded. “It was a hobby until I joined the Eagle Squadron. The U.S. hadn’t joined the war so I volunteered to fight with the British. I was stationed in various parts of southern England for a couple years.”
“How’d you like England?”
“I liked it just fine. We were stationed in the countryside at these massive manors that were built hundreds of years ago with spires and gardens. They used to house the aristocracy. Now they’re housing soldiers. The encampments and planes have torn up their lawns.” His eyebrows furrowed. “The British people see the need to come together and sacrifice for the cause. And how can they not, after so many civilians were killed in the Luftwaffe bombings? The Americans weren’t like that when I left.”
“You haven’t been home since 1940. We’re all doing our part now.”
Will smiled. “I can see that. After all, here you are. Do you like volunteering at the hospital?”
“I do. I honestly wasn’t sure I would when I signed up. I went to my first day of training and thought, what in the world have I gotten myself into? But now I look forward to coming here every day.”
“You should become a nurse, then.”
She shrugged noncommittally. Nursing wouldn’t be a possibility when Nick came home. “We’ll see about that.”
From across the ward, Nurse Parker caught her attention with the wave of her hand. Charlotte glanced at her watch. She’d spent more time with Will this afternoon than she’d planned. She set the newspaper on the bedside table and gave him a parting smile. “It looks like I’m needed elsewhere. It was nice talking to you today. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She left the bedside.
Will’s voice sounded behind her. “Charlotte?”
She turned.
“I’m sure Nick will be all right.”
“You’re kind. But you don’t know that.”
Will looked down at his blankets. “I do know he’ll put up one heck of a fight.”
“How do you know?”
When his eyes met hers again, they brimmed with sincerity. “Because with you in his life, he has too much to lose.”
Thirteen
Ten excruciating days passed before Charlotte and Natalie heard from Nick and John. Charlotte regarded the unopened envelope with a mixture of relief and terror. After a month of silence, she could finally read another one of Nick’s letters. And yet the envelope meant his ship had landed and enough time had transpired to mail the letters home. What if something had happened to Nick since then?
She glanced at Natalie across their bedroom. “Have you opened yours yet?”
Natalie shook her head. “I’m almost afraid to.”
Charlotte stared at the envelope, building her resolve. Finally, she tore it open. The envelope was fuller than the others she’d received. When she pulled out the contents, there were dozens of sheets of paper. She read from the beginning.
October 15, 1942
En route in the Atlantic
Sweetheart,
I hope to continue writing to you every day, and if not, then every other day. Early yesterday morning, we rode to the shipyard, marched onto the dock, and boarded ############. We’ve only been sailing for a day now, and already the men have nicknamed it ##########. I hope it’s an apt nickname because we’ll need all the luck we can get. One of the crew told me that it weighs nearly ####### and can travel up to ######. Considering the size of this thing, that’s really fast. But we’re in a convoy with many other types of ships and can only travel as fast as the slowest vessel.
The sleeping quarters are tight with hundreds of men fitting into one room. We’re in hammocks stacked four or five high. I was uncomfortable last night between the tight space and the swaying of the ship on the ocean, but I reminded myself this might be the most comfortable location I sleep in for a while. I doubt we’ll have comfortable accommodations where we’re going. Heck, I might not be sleeping at all.
The food actually wasn’t terrible. By that I mean it wasn’t worse than what we ate at camp. Of course I still miss your mother’s apple pie. Nothing can beat that. I guess I’ll have to contend with their poorer version that congeals and looks more like a piece of gelatin pie after a few minutes. We had pork chops last night, and there were a lot to go around, considering over half the men are seasick. From time to time, when the sea is especially choppy, I feel like I might be sick, but it passes quickly. I’m a lot better off than my comrades.
Now that we’re en route, there’s a little bit more time to relax. They’re keeping us in shape, though, with continued push-ups and other exercises. But training has definitely ceased.
There was a break in the page before the letter continued.
October 17, 1942
Last night, I made it up onto the deck once it was dark outside. With the exception of the moon and the stars, it was pitch black. It was eerie knowing there were ######## ships surrounding ours, but you couldn’t see them because we’re under blackout orders. We can’t give away our position to the enemy. I presume they navigate with radars, because otherwise, I don’t know how one ship wouldn’t steer off course and crash into another.
I slept easier last night. I’m finally developing my sea legs. And if you can get yourself into the right state of mind, the rocking of the ship does help lull you to sleep. You know, it’s weird being out on the ocean, in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t seen land in two days, and despite the other ships, it feels isolated. The ocean is dark blue out here, darker than you’d imagine. Today was calmer than yesterday. Yesterday, the midnight blue was dotted in white with all the choppy, breaking waves. Now it’s possible for me to look over the ledge and not feel faint at the sight.
Without visibility of land, you can see the curve of the earth on the horizon. How they ever thought the world was flat, when the European explorers sailed around Africa to reach Asia, is beyond me. Maybe they stayed near the shore to navigate, which distracted them.
October 18, 1942
Fresh paper is becoming hard to come by in these parts. The service clubs provided us with packs of it before we shipped out (thus the letterhead), but those who write less are bartering it for other things—photographs, watches, and other doodads. I’m trying to write in as small handwriting as possible, front and back, so I can write you for longer.
I miss your constant incoming stream of letters. I’ve begun rereading through the ones you sent me in January. They were the first real letters you’d ever written me. Your handwriting has become etched in my memory—the way your g doesn’t connect and looks more like an S, your uppercase E that looks more like a backward 3. We took it for granted, last year, that we
could see each other or talk on the phone. But as much as I miss your voice, I enjoy reading your professions of love for me every day. I can relive the moments easier than trying to recall a conversation of ours.
Do you remember our day trip to Chesapeake Beach last summer? We rented a canoe and paddled out into the bay. It was a bright blue day, and you were wearing that red bathing suit that drove me mad. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this—that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you. I sometimes imagine you’re on this ship with me, and I think your hair would blow the same way in the wind as it did that day. But it’s for the best you’re not with me. A ship full of soldiers is no place for a lady.
Onboard, I’ve met a lot of guys from all over the country—cowboys from Texas, Swedes from Minnesota, and Jews from Brooklyn. And they all have different sayings, most of them inappropriate to write to you. However, I can say that, “come hell or high water,” I will forever love you.
Nick had written at least a few paragraphs almost every day. Charlotte stayed in her position on the bed, captivated by the contents. Hours passed by as she read nearly a month’s worth of letters.
Finally, she reached the last page.
November 6, 1942
Sweetheart, I think we’re reaching the end of our journey. The officers are running about the ship more hurriedly than usual and communicating with one another in hushed tones. Their ease has been replaced with hardened smiles when someone cracks a joke. Everyone can feel the tension in the air as we wait for news.
And I was right. I just returned from the mess hall where we were briefed on the timing of our arrival. Word is ###########. I’m not as afraid as I imagined I’d be. In fact, I’m looking forward to getting off this ship and onto solid land, even if it is #########.
I’m not sure if I’ll have a chance to write to you tomorrow, so I’ll begin signing off. I know you worry about my safety, and I appreciate that. Don’t worry yourself sick, though. At the next chance, I’ll write you again and assure you of my well-being. You have prepared me to fight in this war, more so than the endless months of training. With your love and encouragement, I know I can fight the good fight. You are what I live for. You give me the hope to get through and survive, and I will love you forever.
Love,
Nick
Fourteen
“We need to get out!” Natalie prodded Charlotte toward the wardrobe. “We still don’t know what happened to John and Nick. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of sitting around and pulling my hair out with worry. It’s unhealthy.”
Charlotte grimaced. “If I join you, I’ll have to dance with other men. In case you don’t remember, I’m engaged to Nick. I don’t want to dance with anyone else.”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “You’re going to dance with them, not kiss them. Come on! Think of it as your patriotic duty. These soldiers need to have a good time to maintain a high morale. It’s no different than volunteering at the hospital.”
Charlotte sighed. “Fine. I’ll tag along, but I won’t guarantee I’ll dance.”
Natalie grinned. “You’ll be whistling a different tune when we arrive.” She grabbed a swanky red dress from the wardrobe and pushed it into Charlotte’s hands. “Believe me, I’m doing you a favor.”
An hour later, Charlotte boarded the crowded evening bus behind Natalie, Evelyn, and Sandra. The USO center was only a mile away, but it was too cold to walk in their heels and dresses. Charlotte sat next to Evelyn while Sandra and Natalie took empty seats across the aisle.
The bus jolted forward as it continued up Michigan Avenue. “Charlotte, I’m glad you’re finally joining us,” Sandra said, raising her voice above the sound of a crying baby. “You can help me form an opinion of Evelyn’s new beau.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “George is not my new beau. Stop spreading rumors.”
Natalie giggled. “But he still flirts with you all the time, right?”
Sandra answered for Evelyn. “Oh, yes. He fetches her drinks and tries to secure every dance with her. He even pulls her into the back hallway to do God knows what.”
Evelyn leaned into the aisle and swatted Sandra with her pocketbook. She glanced at the men sitting behind them. “He does not! I’m trying to keep our relationship platonic.”
“You hold a torch for him,” said Sandra.
“Maybe I do.” Evelyn crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?” Charlotte asked. “You’re single. He likes you and you like him.”
Evelyn slouched in her seat. “He’s being deployed soon, and I don’t want to become attached. I know what you and Natalie go through. I don’t want that to be me.”
Sandra arched her eyebrow. “Honey, you’re already attached.”
Evelyn stared out the window and didn’t reply.
The USO center was located in an old church. The pews of the church had been removed, and instead of a choir stall and pulpit, there was a band. Red, white, and blue banners and streamers hung from the walls and ceiling, and a sea of soldiers and young women danced to lively music. The four women removed their coats and stood near the entrance. They were far outnumbered by soldiers. It was no wonder the soldiers flocked to them right away.
“What do ya say, toots?” A sailor flashed Charlotte a charming smile. “How ’bout we go out there and cut the rug?”
Charlotte took a step back. “I don’t know . . .”
Natalie pushed her forward, right into the sailor’s arms. When Charlotte turned and glared at her, Natalie took Charlotte’s pocketbook and coat. She gave Charlotte a wave good-bye. “Have a swell time!”
The sailor took Charlotte’s hand and escorted her onto the dance floor. By this point, the song had changed to a much livelier number. Although many months had passed since she had danced the Lindy Hop, she picked it up again swiftly. They didn’t do flips or anything fancy, but the sailor twirled her around and swung her back and forth with ease. By the end of the song, she was grinning from ear to ear.
The next tune was a slower number, “Blue Skies” by Tommy Dorsey. The sailor kept his hand entwined with hers. He suddenly scowled as he stared over her shoulder.
“Can I have this dance?” said a familiar voice from behind her.
The sailor jutted his thumb toward the exit. “Scram. She’s dancin’ with me.”
Charlotte glanced back and immediately recognized the mop of red hair. She turned to the sailor, softening her reply with a smile. “He’s a friend. It was lovely dancing with you. Maybe I’ll have the pleasure again by the end of the night.”
“It was lovely dancing with ya, too.” The sailor released her and glared at Frankie.
Frankie took Charlotte’s hand. His other hand went to her waist. “I saw you dancing and I told my friends, ‘I know that girl.’ ” He grinned. “I’m glad I snagged you while I could. Girls like you are a hot commodity ’round here.”
“I’m glad you found me,” Charlotte said. “Do you come to these dances often?”
“From time to time. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I would’ve noticed.”
“This is my first time at the USO. My girlfriends dragged me along with them. I have to admit I’m having a wonderful time so far. I’m glad I came.”
“Me, too,” Frankie said. “Are you still volunteering at the hospital?”
She grinned. “Almost every day.”
“And do you miss me? I was your best patient, wasn’t I?” Frankie winked.
“Of course! I’d want you to come back, but I don’t want you to break your leg again or worse. It’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make for your well-being.”
“You’re a doll. So how’s that fiancé of yours?”
She stepped on Frankie’s shoe. She looked down at her feet, which only made her steps worse. She halted their dance. “I’m sorry. I’m a little rusty.”
“It’s fine. Are you all right?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how Nick is. I received a packet of le
tters on Thursday. He wrote them to me en route to North Africa. I haven’t heard from him since they landed.”
Frankie’s smile fell. “I’m sorry I asked. Jeez, I keep doing that, don’t I? I made you cry the first time we met, and now I’m doing it again.” He wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’m a lousy friend.”
“No, you’re not. I’m just an emotional wreck.” Charlotte forced a smile and resumed her dance steps. “What about you? Will any girls be jealous I’m dancing with their guy?”
He laughed. “No. I’m still unattached.”
“Are you looking?”
“I’m always looking to meet beautiful women.”
They continued dancing together in silence. Frankie was a nice fellow and handsome enough. She could easily set him up with one of her friends. Whether she admitted it or not, Evelyn had George. But Sandra was available to the best of her knowledge.
When the song ended, Charlotte pulled back from him. “Come with me. I want to introduce you to one of my friends.”
Frankie followed her toward a table in the corner of the room. Sandra fanned herself with her hand, her feet propped up on an empty chair. Evelyn and another man sat beside her, chatting intimately with each other.
Sandra sighed and looked up at Charlotte. “My dogs are already barking. I shouldn’t have worn these shoes tonight. They pinch my toes.” She noticed Frankie and quickly sat up, placing her feet on the floor. Her cheeks reddened.
“Sandra, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Frankie.” Charlotte gestured to her companion. “Frankie, this is Sandra.”
Battle Hymns Page 8