Delaney’s fury only increased when she arrived at Pendleton Field and asked to see Klayne.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Sergeant Campbell is not available for visitors today,” a guard said.
She glared at the young man. “I’m not a visitor, I’m his wife. It’s imperative I speak with him today.”
The young man gave her a smug look and shook his head. “Now, ma’am, I know for a fact Sergeant Campbell isn’t married. And he ain’t one to dally with the women, either. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you aren’t gonna win. Unless you have some official business here, you’d best leave.”
Infuriated to the point she could hardly see straight, Delaney drove down the road and waited an hour before trying again to see Klayne. A different young man acting as guard at the gate told her the same thing. It was then she noticed several women trying to get in and all of them turned away. The fact she wasn’t alone in her plight didn’t help her feel any better about the situation.
With each passing minute, she grew more and more desperate to see Klayne. She had no idea how to find him, even if she could sneak past the men guarding the gate.
Angry, hurt, and defeated, she drove into town. She parked her car with no idea of what she should do when she glanced up and noticed she’d driven to Tony Campanelli’s photography studio.
Inspired with an idea, she rushed inside the studio, nearly knocking the bell above the door off its hook in her haste.
Tony walked into the reception area from the back, wiping his hands on a rag while the faint odor of chemicals filled the air.
“Well, Dee! What brings you back so soon? How’s that new husband of yours?” Tony greeted her with a broad smile.
“Oh, Mr. Campanelli, I just found out Klayne has to leave today. I can’t get anyone at the base to let me see him to say goodbye. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was wondering if you had time and wouldn’t mind, could you print one of the photos you took for us last night and see that it’s delivered? I’m hoping they’ll at least give it to him before he leaves. I want him to have something… something to…” Tears clogged her throat and left her unable to speak.
Tony scowled. “It’s a shame they won’t let you in, but I’ll do what I can. I was just working on some prints when you came in. While I finish, why don’t you write that young man of yours a note? I can tuck it in with the prints. If there’s anything else you want to include, just let me know. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to finish.”
“Thank you so, so much, Mr. Campanelli. I appreciate it more than you know,” she said, banking her emotion and accepting the tablet of paper Tony slid across the counter to her.
He disappeared into the back and she heard the click of his darkroom door. She sat down in one of the chairs in the waiting area and tried to gather her scattered thoughts.
Her first inclination was to lambast Klayne for running off like a tail-tucked coward and not telling her goodbye in person. Her second was to whine and complain that life wasn’t fair. Finally corralling her tumultuous emotions, she wrote him a letter that expressed her thoughts and, she hoped, the love she felt for him. She didn’t hold back her disappointment, but she didn’t beleaguer the point, either.
When she finished, she pulled a daintily embroidered handkerchief from her handbag, a gift from Carol, and tucked it inside the letter. She stuffed it into an envelope she found on the counter with Tony’s business name imprinted in the corner.
With a glance at the clock, she realized Tony would be finished any minute. She’d hoped to run down the street and find something to send to Klayne. Her heartfelt letter would have to do.
Tony appeared and set a large envelope on the counter. “Write his name and the name of his squadron, if you know it, on there. I’ll do my best to see he gets it before he leaves. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”
“I’m sure your best will achieve more than mine, sir,” Delaney said, writing Klayne’s name on the envelope and trying to remember if he’d mentioned a squadron. Vaguely recalling him talking about the bombardment group, she wrote that on the envelope and hoped it was correct. How had she married someone she knew so little about? Try as she might to regret it, to regret tying her life to Klayne’s, she couldn’t do it. Not when she felt consumed with love, and now concern, for him.
“Thank you, again, Mr. Campanelli. If there is ever anything I can do to repay your kindness, I hope you’ll let me know.”
Tony gave her a sly glance. “If you bake me one of those cakes with the coconut frosting, like you brought to church for the gathering we had after Thanksgiving, we’ll call it even.”
Delaney grinned. “Consider it done!” She picked up her gloves and handbag, moving toward the door. “I really do appreciate your help, Mr. Campanelli. With Dad out of town, I don’t know what else to do.”
“You’re welcome, Dee. Try not to worry too much. I’m sure the boys are just headed for training somewhere.”
She nodded and left, making her way back to the car. Feeling empty and lost, Delaney couldn’t decide her next move. She had no desire to linger in town, yet she didn’t want to go home. Normally, she would have gone to the bakery and visited with Amy, but she wasn’t in the mood for her friend’s cheerful presence.
The temperatures made it far too cold to sit in the car and pout, so Delaney started it and began the drive home. She was halfway there when she wondered if the soldiers would be leaving by train. If so, she might be able to catch Klayne at the depot. She turned the car around and sped to the station.
There were so many vehicles around, she had to park five blocks away then made her way over snow and ice covered streets to get there just in time to see Klayne step into a train car.
Although she rushed forward, he didn’t see her. She jumped up and down, waving at him like a woman who’d lost her mind, but he took a seat on the far side of the train.
Intent on seeing him, on telling him goodbye, she started to board, but the porter barred her way. “No, ma’am, you aren’t getting on this here train car. Now step on back. We are leaving.”
“But my husband is on the train. I need to tell him goodbye!” Delaney lunged forward, but the man again pushed her back.
“I said no and I mean no. If you haven’t told him goodbye yet, then maybe you’ll do a better job of saying your farewells next time.” The man hurried up the steps as the train began to creak and rock forward.
Delaney jumped up again, trying to see in the window, only to notice several men watching her. She frantically pointed in Klayne’s direction, but the soldiers just laughed and waved.
Heartbroken, she buried her face in her hands and joined several other women in shedding tears as the soldiers rolled out of town.
Chapter Eleven
Klayne slogged his way to his tent at the Columbia Army Air Base, wishing, for many reasons, he’d never received orders to leave Oregon.
It might have been frozen and snowy there, but the relative comfort of the barracks seemed like luxury accommodations compared to the tents they camped in on a field of sloppy mud. The winter rains soaked into everything, leaving him perpetually cold and miserable.
On top of that, he missed Delaney with every breath his body drew in and released. He waited until after they arrived in South Carolina and settled into their meager accommodations before he opened the envelope from Tony Campanelli. He had no idea how the man had gotten it to him at the last minute, but he was grateful the photographer made the effort.
Suddenly nervous, Klayne wiped his hands on his trousers then slowly pulled three photographs from the envelope. The top image showed him and Delaney in a formal pose. He stood behind her with his hand lightly resting on the curve of her waist. They both faced the camera, looking happy and excited. The second photograph was of the two of them gazing at each other as they held hands. Anyone could see the smiles they exchanged held love and hope.
As much as he liked both of the photographs, it was the third
image that made him sink onto his cot, heart hammering in his chest. Tony had captured Delaney laughing, dimple popping out in her cheek, while her eyes danced with humor and life. This photograph depicted the exact image of how he saw her when he closed his eyes.
For several long moments, he just stared at the photo, afraid to touch the image lest he accidentally mar it.
With a sigh that rolled up from his soul, he set aside the three photographs and stuck his hand back in the envelope. He drew out a small print of Delaney’s laughing face, one that would fit inside a tiny space. Mr. Campanelli must have known how much Klayne would want and need that little photo. He carefully tucked it inside his leather wallet before removing a piece of paper and a small letter-sized envelope from the large manila envelope.
The note was from Mr. Campanelli. The missive thanked him for defending the country and encouraged him to keep safe.
Klayne opened the small envelope and Delaney’s scent wafted around him. He picked up a delicate square of linen, embroidered with blue and yellow flowers in one corner, along with the initial D. Holding the handkerchief to his nose, he breathed deeply of the fragrance and closed his eyes, daydreaming of being back at the ranch in Delaney’s arms. Assailed again with worries that he’d ruined her life by marrying her, he fervently hoped he was wrong.
He swallowed hard and drew his thoughts back to the present. Losing himself in his longings would only make the present more difficult to bear.
The letter didn’t take long to read, but Klayne held it in his hands, studying Delaney’s no-nonsense script, her frank words, and absorbing the fact she’d written him a letter even after she knew he was leaving. He read it again, pretending her voice spoke the words.
Dear Klayne,
Imagine my surprise when I awoke this morning to find you gone. What a dirty trick to pull on a girl, especially on one who is so completely and utterly in love with you.
How could you just leave me like that, without so much as a goodbye? I plan to have a very stern discussion with you about this matter when you come back. I expect a promise that you’ll never, ever, in the next sixty or seventy years, do anything like it again. Got that, soldier?
I tried for hours to get in to see you, but apparently, you have quite a reputation of shunning women who claim to know you. The guards at the gate absolutely refused to listen to me when I tried to explain we wed yesterday. They laughed and sent me on my way, multiple times.
I’m not sure what guided me to Mr. Campanelli’s studio. One minute I was driving around town, mad as a wet mule in a spring downpour, and the next I looked up and realized I was right outside his door.
He was kind enough to make these prints for you and promised to do his best to see you receive them. If you’re reading this letter, then he succeeded!
I’m not an overly emotional girl, Klayne, but I have to tell you I cried more tears today than I have since my mother passed away. Why didn’t you tell me the truth? At least then, I would have had the opportunity to tell you goodbye, to share one last kiss. (You have no idea how much I enjoy your kisses. None at all.)
Once I got over my tears and recovered from wanting to beat you senseless,
Klayne grinned and continued reading.
I just wanted to give you a hug and tell you I’ll miss you.
As angry, annoyed, and downright irritated as I am at you, as much as I don’t want you to leave, there are two things you should know.
The first is that I’m crazy for you and will love you no matter what. That’s right, Sergeant Klayne Campbell, I love you, with all that I am. When you’re free to go wherever you like, make sure you come straight to me, to the one place you’ll always have a home — right here in my heart.
The second thing is that I’m proud of you. You’re a fine, wonderful, gentle, caring man. And I know you’re a good soldier. Only a man of your superb character would be willing to risk his life for his country on a mission he knows nothing about.
In the days ahead, don’t ever forget who you are or that many people are praying for your safe return from wherever it is you must go.
Be safe, Klayne, and come back to me. Please.
I love you, forever and always.
Your angry but completely devoted wife,
Laney
Emotion thickened his throat and stung the backs of his eyes as he read the letter again, then studied the photographs. Delaney had made him laugh while taking him to task for not being forthright with her. If he had the chance to do it again, to see her again, he’d never be anything but one hundred percent honest with her, no matter the situation.
The fact that she said she loved him and wanted him to return buoyed his low spirits.
When the rain turned to ice on the tents and nearly froze the occupants inside, Delaney’s promise to love him always and forever kept him warm. When the men griped about the conditions and speculated that they’d soon be dropping bombs on Germans, her reminder that he had a home to return to kept him going.
One day, word moved through the ranks that more volunteers were needed for a hazardous mission that would most likely claim many lives. “Some of you fellows are going to get killed,” the captain said in warning. “How many of you will go?”
Klayne had already volunteered, back in Pendleton, but he stepped forward again, renewing his commitment to do whatever it took to help his country win the war. Sooner or later, he’d be drawn into combat, so he figured he might as well have a say in it.
From the moment the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, he, and many men just like him, experienced a helpless, anxious-to-do-something feeling. Furious at the enemy and wanting to defend America, the anger and desire to take action gave him the drive he needed to push forward, even though he had no idea where the men of his squad were headed or when.
If Klayne died in battle, he hoped it would be doing something that would make Delaney proud. The idea of engaging in a secret dangerous mission seemed like it would fit the bill.
The beginning of March found Klayne and the twenty volunteer aircrews transferred to Eglin Field in Florida near Pensacola.
Ready to leave behind the miserable weather of South Carolina and eager to learn more about the mission, the men arrived to discover they had more than fifty hours of training before them and no further details of the mission. The only information they had was a reiteration that it was dangerous and some of them would die.
The officer in charge of forming a cohesive unit out of the volunteers from four different squadrons was popular amongst the soldiers, known for his aviation skills throughout the military.
Honored to work with him, Klayne and the others absorbed the seemingly endless training. The crews of each B-25 learned short-field takeoffs, daytime and nighttime bombing, and engaged in practice runs against imaginary attacking pursuits.
Each flight crew had five men including the pilot, co-pilot, navigator, bombardier, and gunner. Klayne’s main responsibilities as a bombardier included sighting in the target and dropping bombs. He also had to coordinate with the pilot and the rest of the crew. In fact, when he took bombardier training, he had to memorize a long list of duties that rested on his shoulders. The responsibilities covered everything from taking over the navigator’s duties should he be incapacitated to knowing how to load and fuse his own bombs.
With perfect vision, Klayne had excelled in his job, rarely missing a target. He’d flown on planes with the famous Norden bombsight. The seventy-five pound piece of equipment consisted of more than two thousand parts that helped accurately sight in targets. However, at the high-speed, low altitude practice flights Klayne and the others were training to execute, the expensive piece of equipment was useless.
He watched with interest as new bombsights made from scrap aluminum were installed on the modified B-25 planes. The sights supposedly cost less than thirty cents to make and worked far better in the low altitudes than its expensive counterpoint. The switch also alleviated the fear of the enemy capturing
a Norden bombsight, even if Klayne still had no clue which enemy they would be bombing.
As he and his crew went on training flights over the coastal waters around the Florida panhandle where they were stationed, they speculated where the mission might take them. Some mentioned Japan while others were certain they’d attack Germany. A few even thought they might end up in South America.
Rather than join in the haphazard guessing, Klayne focused on honing his skills. During the training flights, he dropped concrete and sand-loaded practice bombs over remote areas.
Since Klayne was cross-trained as a nose gunner, he made note of the modifications to the B-25’s armament. Top and bottom gun turrets had twin .50-caliber machine guns while a single .30-caliber machine gun was located in the nose of the plane. Half the time, the guns malfunctioned or the blast from the muzzle fired near the fuselage popped out rivets and ripped the plane’s thin skin. Steel blast plates were installed and the belly guns removed to free up space for an additional gas tank. Workers replaced defective guns and repaired faulty parts. The crews practiced shooting at ground range, or strafing sea slicks on the gulf.
The tail of the plane was largely unprotected until one of the men devised the idea of cutting holes in the bomber’s tail and inserting two black wooden poles that, to Klayne, closely resembled painted broomsticks. From a distance, they gave the appearance of twin .50-caliber machine guns.
Concerned by the discussions he overheard about maximizing fuel efficiency and removing unnecessary weight so each plane could carry additional fuel, Klayne assumed wherever they were flying would likely be a one-way mission with no place to land.
Their practice flights of taking off in short-distances, coupled with the training over water only served to solidify Klayne’s suspicions they’d be out in the ocean on an aircraft carrier at some point during the mission.
Home of Her Heart (Hearts of the War Book 2) Page 13