Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  “You knew he’d do that and didn’t warn me.”

  “I’d do it again too. You should’ve seen your face. Don’t worry about the shirt. You can wear one of my uncle’s while we wash that one. Shall we walk on?”

  “What are your plans for after the war? Will you come here and help Mel?”

  “I’m saving my money from the club. I want to go to trade school and learn to be a veterinarian’s tech. I’ll come here to look for a job. There’ll be a shortage. They’ve lost two techs already—killed in Africa. When I can afford it, I’d like to start a rescue for dogs and cats and maybe rabbits.”

  Ron stopped walking. When he did she did too. Her hair had dried and he smoothed it back away from her face.

  “What?” she asked but he ignored the question. She spoke with such a positive eye to the future. Her voice held a lilt of excitement when she talked of a rescue of her own—her kind nature coming out. Foxholes had a way of sucking the life’s blood from dreams. Her enthusiasm breathed life back into them.

  And she was pin-up pretty. How’d he get so lucky? He bent and kissed her temple and laid his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair smelled like apricots. The scent distracted him. He couldn’t imagine why shampoo would smell like fruit.

  “What?” she repeated again.

  For the first time in four years, with her, he forgot the horror of war. If he could embrace a moment in time, he’d take this one.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Something’s going on in that head of yours. I can tell from the look in your eyes. What’s going through your mind?”

  He wanted to blurt out the truth. How it didn’t matter they’d just met. Some things are right from the start. She was right for him but he’d keep that to himself for now rather than have her think him crazy. “I was just thinking your hair smells like apricots. It’s odd.”

  “What does the shampoo you use at home smell like?”

  “The stuff my mom buys is green. It smells green.”

  Charmaine shook her head and started walking. He followed. “How about you? What will you do after the war?” she asked.

  “I want to go to college. I’d like to teach history.”

  “A fine goal.” She looped her arm through his. “Tonight, let’s go to the waterfront and then the park. We can see the fairy penguin parade and afterward dance to the park band.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  #

  They arrived at a place called Summerland Beach just as the sun was setting. The beach was the site of the penguin’s rookery. Caretakers of the rookery set up raised boardwalks and railings that restricted interfering with the animals. Charmaine led them to a spot where they had a perfect view of the ritual parade.

  The fairy penguin parade lived up to every wonderful adjective Charmaine used to describe it. At dusk, the tiny creatures waddled out of the sea in parade formation, one after the other, and headed for the rookery.

  “Why is that one tiny chap still out there?” Ron asked. “He’s just staring at the open water.”

  “One stays behind and acts as a sentry. The designated steward verifies all the flock is out and on their way to the nest for the night.”

  None of the human admirers moved, keeping watch with the sentry. Minutes passed, then apparently satisfied everyone was where they were supposed to be, the sentry hopped as much as waddled to the rookery.

  “This is delightful,” Ron said. “What fascinating little guys.”

  Charmaine smiled up at him. “I adore them. I’m not sure which I’d choose as my favorite animal between the koalas or the penguins. I want to bundle each in my arms and hug them to bits.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to do to you,” Ron said with a wink. “Great minds and all that.”

  “I’ll let you too. Ready to go dancing?”

  “I am.”

  They walked the short distance to the park. The band Mel of spoke played on a raised gazebo just off the promenade. They were in the middle of a jumping version of Tiger Rag. He should’ve expected the band to be made up of mainly women with the men off to war. The brass section, except for the trombone player being all women was still an unusual sight. He wished Johnnie was there. The trumpet player looked like Betty Grable with a horn. Johnnie would be in hog heaven.

  “What’s your favorite song?” Charmaine asked.

  “Moonlight Serenade.”

  She waited until the band finished and made her request. They struck up the Glenn Miller tune and Charmaine sang the lyrics as they danced. Ron closed his eyes for a few seconds and allowed himself to pretend they were at the Aragon Ballroom. A warm breeze blew off the ocean, Charmaine’s perfume wrapped them in a sensuous floral haze, and in those seconds he pretended there was no more war. There was just Charmaine in his arms.

  “I didn’t know there were words to the song until I heard you sing them,” he said, opening his eyes.

  They spent the next hour dancing then returned to Mel’s. A café they passed on the way home sold homemade red wine. Ron bought a bottle which they shared while listening to the radio back at the farm.

  #

  “What shall we do today?” Ron asked the next morning.

  “Let’s go for a bike ride.”

  “A bike ride. I haven’t ridden in years. Let’s go.”

  They rode the length of the island. Charmaine pointed out different coves and the best places to surf and swim. They stopped to rest at a rock that overlooked a favorite spot for dolphin watching.

  “Lay down,” Charmaine ordered and removed a pear and small knife from a bag she’d tied to her handlebars. She cut a wedge of pear and tucked one end in his mouth and took the other end in hers. She nibbled on her end and he followed suit. Juice drenched their chins and mouths and ran down their jaws. When they reached the point where their lips touched, Ron thought it was the most sensuous experience of his life.

  “I never cared much for pears before. I going to worship them now,” he said when they broke the kiss.

  “I have more.”

  “Goody.”

  They made love on the sun warmed rock. It had danced across Ron’s mind to chivalrously object at first, giving her a graceful way to change her mind. The thought skated from his mind faster than it appeared. Time was too short, too precious, and life too precarious to not embrace these moments with her.

  That evening they went dancing again. The band played Moonlight Serenade without Charmaine requesting it.

  “What time do you leave in the morning?” she asked as they danced.

  “First light I need to be on the bus to Melbourne.” They danced until the band took a break. Charmaine sang the words to the songs but they didn’t talk. Ron hadn’t really listened after Moonlight Serenade. He spent the time working up the courage to ask her to give up everything she knew.

  “There’s a pub down the road. Want to go for a drink?” Charmaine asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet. It’s a lively place. You might find it more fun.”

  “I’d rather we stay here and talk.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  Ron took her by the hand and led her to a bench under a tree. “I hope you don’t find it so after you hear me out.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I know how you love this island. I don’t blame you. It’s a wonderful place. But, would you ever consider leaving here and moving somewhere really far away?”

  “Like?”

  “Chicago. We have dogs and cats there that need rescuing. We have veterinarians that need techs. Then there’s me.”

  She was quiet longer than Ron imagined could result in a yes. “Are you sure you want me to come? Are you sure this isn’t the emotional heat of war motivating you?” she asked at last.

  “I know in my gut I want you with me. I trust it. It’s kept me alive.”

  Charmaine snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Ron please, you’ve been wounded twice. Where was this gut warning then?”

  �
��Wounded isn’t dead. I got a feeling in my gut I was in the enemy’s crosshairs and I hit the dirt in time to live. If you come and hate it or find you hate me, I’ll understand. I just want a chance. After the war, will you come?”

  She pressed her forehead to his chin, looked up, smiled and said, “I will.”

  #

  Charmaine rode the Melbourne bus with him to the port where his ship had anchored. On the dock Ron gave her one of the Purple Heart ribbons from his uniform. “Till we’re together again.”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out a black and white photo of herself and gave it to him. She’d signed the back To My Darling, Ron. “Till we’re together again.” She threw her arms around him and held him tighter than she ever had. “Don’t you dare die on me, Marine.”

  “I definitely won’t now.” He kissed her temple, her cheeks and her lips. He ran his hand down her spine and let it rest in the well at the warm base, making every second count.

  Johnnie jogged up with Pamela in tow. He kissed her and they said their goodbyes. Ron and Charmaine broke apart.

  “Nice seeing you again, Charmaine,” Johnnie said. “It looks like you took good care of my friend. He needed some fun.” Johnnie turned to Ron. “Better get a move on, the sergeant’s at the gangway checking men in now.”

  Ron gave Charmaine one last kiss. He pulled his American cigarettes from his pocket and handed them to her. “For Mel.” A tear rolled down Charmaine’s face and off her chin. “Don’t cry. You’re going to love Chicago. We’ll be together soon.”

  She and Pamela stood on the dock until the ship sailed. Ron and Johnnie stood at the bow until they were out of sight.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Okinawa

  May, 1945

  Rain dripped off his helmet and ran in sheets off his poncho. Every morning for the last three days torrential rain had turned the company’s foxholes into a miry mess.

  “I just talked to the radio operator.” Johnnie bent over as he hurried to where Ron sat so he didn’t draw sniper fire. “The weather’s supposed to clear midday. A company of reinforcements and an artillery unit should be here at the same time.”

  Midday the weather cleared. The sun beat down and the temperature rose into the nineties with humidity to match.

  Ron and Johnnie’s company were positioned at the base of Sugar Loaf Hill. The hill had stopped their forward action across the island and kept them from pushing the enemy lines back.

  When the reinforcements finally arrived, their lieutenant knelt by Ron and said, “Corporal, a private down the line said your sergeant was taken to the field hospital with malaria and directed me to you. What’s the status here?”

  “You can’t tell from this angle but we scouted the area two nights ago. Three hills form a horseshoe and Sugar Loaf is the anchor point.” Ron tipped his head toward the hill. “All three are honeycombed with machine gun nests that are keeping us pinned down. Take out Sugar Loaf and the other two will go. Once we get our artillery set up, we should be able to eliminate the nests.”

  “That’s the problem,” the lieutenant said. “We don’t have artillery support. They’re bogged down in the mud. Any other ideas?”

  Ron eyed the hill. The only way to knock out the nests was with men willing to take on a suicide mission. They’d have to crawl up and take out every nest individually without being seen. At each bunker they’d throw a hand grenade into the nest, wait, then enter to make certain no enemy survived.

  “Corporal? Any ideas? You scouted it,” the lieutenant repeated.

  Ron told him his idea, which was pretty much a suicide mission. “I need your men to lay down suppressing fire while our guys go up.”

  “You got it. Who’s going?”

  Ron looked down the ditch and put his hand on Johnnie’s shoulder. “Ask the Bobs to come over.”

  The lieutenant looked down the line and back at Ron then asked, “The Bobs are?”

  “Big Bob and Little Bob. Before the war Big Bob was a forward with the North Carolina Tar Heels. Little Bob hustled pool in Brooklyn. They’re good men. Johnnie and I will take the left flank, the Bobs, the right.”

  Ron explained the plan to the Bobs and the lieutenant gave the orders to his men on how to cover the teams. Ron and Johnnie crawled on their bellies to the first tier of nests. The plan worked well. Ron crawled under the bunker opening while Johnnie manned the other side. They threw in grenades simultaneously then together entered after the smoke cleared.

  They were on the last row and had just blown a bunker. Ron and Johnnie rushed into the mouth of the nest. One machine gun operator, wounded but alive fired. Everything seemed to happen at once. Ron saw the enemy’s muzzle flashes, heard the burst of rounds from his left...Johnnie firing...suddenly he was airborne, an instant later he’d fallen on his knees. He looked down. Blood poured from his stomach. Then the pain came.

  He didn’t remember the corpsmen carrying him down the hill. He didn’t remember being loaded onto the gurney but he remembered someone saying he was dead and throwing him on the ground so they could load another wounded man. He’d groan and someone would say, “Sorry buddy” and put him on the gurney again. That happened twice before he lost all consciousness and memory of the ride to the hospital ship. The first thing he remembered afterward was waking in a haze as though from a terrible agony.

  “Where am I?”

  A man in a doctor’s coat said, “You’re on a hospital ship to Hawaii, where you’ll have another surgery. From there, if you live Marine, you’ll go to San Diego to recover.”

  “Thirsty, very thirsty.”

  “I’ll have someone bring you water.”

  While he waited for a drink, Ron felt under his gown. Bandages covered him from his sternum to below his belly button. He’d seen gut shot injuries. The wound would leave a vicious scar the width of his hand all the way down. Would Charmaine want him now? Would she want this mess of a man?

  #

  August, 1945

  When Ron wasn’t being poked and prodded, he slept most of the time sailing to Hawaii and then onto San Diego. They’d kept him on morphine for the pain.

  By the time he reached San Diego, they cut back the dosage of morphine. Now he only received a mild dose to help him sleep. He was sitting, looking at Charmaine’s picture when a woman who looked like Jane Russell with wavy raven-hair to her shoulders, a full mouth, and the same busty assets that got Jane a movie contract came over. She pushed a cart with newspapers, magazines, books, and cigarettes.

  “Is that your girl?” she asked, cocking her head to get a better look at the photo.

  “I’m hoping she will be. She lives in Australia but has promised to come to Chicago after the war. So, fingers crossed.”

  The Jane look-a-like gave his hand a squeeze. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Marine. She’ll be there. Now, can I interest you in a book or magazine?”

  She wasn’t wearing a nurse’s uniform. His ward was for the worst injured men. “I didn’t know they let volunteers work this ward.”

  “We can volunteer for it.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Julie Clark.”

  He extended his hand. “Ron Day. What do you normally do, Julie who looks like Jane Russell?”

  The compliment brought a smile. “Jane Russell indeed. What a flatterer. I’m a telephone operator at the Del Coronado Hotel. You can see the hotel out that window.” She pointed to the window she meant.

  Ron sat forward to see the red-roofed hotel on the beach. The main building was round with long wings attached. “Interesting architecture.” He sat back. “I’ll take a pack of Chesterfields and a book of matches.”

  Julie handed him both. “We have a recreation room here. It’s Errol Flynn week.” She giggled softly and gave her shoulders a sexy little shimmy. “Errol Flynn, yowza. I could go for him in a big way.”

  It hurt the flesh around his belly button to laugh but it made him chuckle to see how sweet Julie looked talking about the
great matinee idol Errol Flynn. “What’s playing?” Ron wasn’t in the mood to see a sad movie like Dawn Patrol.

  “Captain Blood.” Have you seen it? He’s a high seas pirate.”

  “Is there a low seas pirate?” She gave him the smart aleck look, which made him chuckle again. “I’ve seen it but I’m up for seeing it again. Come and get me when it’s time.”

  “I shall return.”

  Right after she left, Johnnie came in, pausing long enough to watch Julie leave. “She’s a looker,” he said and brought a chair next to Ron’s bed. “How you doing?”

  “Better. Are they keeping you at Pendleton or shipping you back out?”

  “I’m staying at Pendleton until my discharge comes through because of the recurring malaria.”

  “You hear anything new on the invasion?”

  Johnnie put his finger to his lips and then looked around. He leaned in and motioned for Ron to lean closer. “You can’t believe the amount of brass coming to and fro at the base. I’m hearing scuttlebutt about a bomb like nobody’s ever seen before. Wipes out everything for miles and miles, vaporizes people.”

  “We have it?”

  Johnnie nodded.

  “Huh.”

  It was a blue-sky cloudless afternoon which was typical of San Diego, Ron had come to learn. Julie came after her shift at the hotel. Today she had rhinestone combs in her hair to hold it back, which made her look all the more like Jane Russell to Ron. Instead of an offering from her cart, she asked if he’d like to go outside for a walk.

  “I can’t walk yet. The doctors are afraid my wounds will tear open,” he explained.

  “I know. I’ll push you in a wheelchair. Balboa Park is next door. It’s lovely and the fresh air will be good for you. Besides that, on the other side is a soda fountain that makes the best root beer floats. What do you say?”

  He hadn’t had a root beer float in years. How could he say no? “Are you sure people seeing me in my robe and hospital pajamas won’t be offended?”