Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  The response was amazingly unified. “Hotcakes!” almost all the men yelled.

  “All right. That’s what you’ll get. And while we’re getting that going, anyone for a hot shower?”

  It was just too wonderful to imagine. Things had been a lot better for a month or so, but Wally could hardly contain his joy at the thought of a shower, a truly hot shower with plenty of soap, and afterward, a good old-fashioned American breakfast. The nightmare really was over.

  “Men, we’re flying out of here every day, and we can get all of you to Okinawa in the next day or two. I wish I had uniforms for you here, but you’ll have to wear those awful things you’ve got until then. I need a list of your names and service numbers so the military will know you’re on your way. From what I understand, they’re setting up a repatriation camp in the Philippines, so you might be flown there for a few days, but no one is going to hold you up any longer than they have to. You’re going home.”

  Wally put his arm around Chuck’s shoulder, held onto him. Wally was crying, so he didn’t want to say anything. He could feel Chuck shaking, and he knew that he was crying, too. Art was nearby. He stepped over to them, and the three all wrapped their arms around each other. “We made it,” Chuck said.

  “We’re not just alive, we’re in pretty good shape,” Art said. “I didn’t know whether that would ever happen.”

  “It’s like resurrection morning,” Wally said. He had meant the words almost as a joke, but they struck him as true, almost exactly right.

  The men took their hot showers, and the pleasure of it was just as grand as Wally had hoped. Then everyone was assigned to a tent. Soldiers had been rousted out of bed to set these tents up. No one was about to ask the POWs to do it themselves. Inside the tents were cots and blankets, mattresses. And pillows! Wally didn’t have a real bed yet—and there were no sheets—but he had thought a thousand times in the past three years how much he would love to have a pillow to put his head on. And clean, white, crisp sheets. That would come soon, too.

  Breakfast was more than hotcakes. It was also ham and eggs and juice, jam and syrup, coffee for the men who wanted it. And all the food the men could eat. Wally ate until he couldn’t stuff in anything more. The hotcakes tasted better than anything he ever remembered eating.

  And then he went to his bunk, and he lay on the soft mattress. He didn’t want to sleep immediately. He wanted to lie on this bed, with his head on a pillow, and just feel the pleasure of it. But he was exhausted, and in only a few minutes, sound asleep.

  Chapter 31

  When Bobbi’s ship docked at Pearl Harbor, she felt as though she had come home, but the war was not over for her. For the present, she would continue to sail back and forth across the Pacific, her ship transporting wounded soldiers and sailors from the many islands to Hawaii, or on to the mainland. For many of the men she was treating, the war would never end; they would deal with their wounds and emotional scars for the rest of their lives. But Bobbi’s great relief was to know that the battles were over, that at least no new wounds were being inflicted.

  On this trip the Charity had been transferring serious medical cases from Guam to the navy hospital at Pearl Harbor—her old hospital—where more difficult burn and trauma cases could be handled. When she entered the hospital, she walked with a blinded young man, holding his arm. She was acquainted with most of the nurses, of course, and everyone greeted her. Afton, they said, was in post-op, so as soon as everything was settled, Bobbi hurried to that part of the hospital. When she arrived, she stood at the door and watched Afton, who was talking to a patient. Bobbi heard her familiar cheerfulness, but she was also struck by how much Afton had changed in the past three years. She had been such a young girl back when she had come here, naive about almost everything, and she would never be particularly sophisticated, but Bobbi watched how confidently she patted her patient’s shoulder and then strode to the nurse’s station.

  She was writing on a chart as Bobbi stepped up to her. When Afton glanced up, her eyes didn’t accept, didn’t believe for a moment, and then she squealed, “Bobbi!” and threw her arms around Bobbi’s neck. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, and already she had begun to cry.

  Bobbi had little sisters at home, but they were growing up without her really knowing them. It was Afton that Bobbi felt closest to. The girl had been a pain in the neck sometimes—like any sister—but the two had survived some of the hardest days of their lives together.

  “How long will you be here, Bobbi?”

  “I don’t know. No one knows what’s going to happen now.”

  “Do you think they’ll ever let us out?”

  “Well, sure. But there’s a lot left to do.”

  “I know. We keep getting more men in—just like the war never ended.” Afton pushed some loose hair behind her ear. She looked tired, but she was prettier than ever. She seemed a little less animated than she had once been—softened a little. “Are you going to get married as soon as you get home?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Bobbi said. “I’ll have to talk to you about that.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I just don’t know, Afton. I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.”

  “What about Wally? Have you heard anything from him?”

  “No. Not yet. But I haven’t heard from my parents for a while either. My mail hasn’t caught up with me for a couple of weeks.”

  “I heard we’re finding POWs all over Japan, in camps and everything, and that it’s going to take a long time to get them all out.”

  “I know. That’s what everyone is saying. But you’d think they’d know more by now.” Bobbi didn’t want to say any more, but she was worried. She knew that mail could be on the way, and should catch up with her here in Hawaii, but she never went a day now without wondering how she would handle the news about Wally, if it was bad.

  Bobbi glanced at the patient in the closest bed. He smiled and nodded. Bobbi could see that both his legs had been amputated, just below his knees. It crossed her mind that she had always expected to get used to such things, to become hardened to such realities. But something in the boy’s face—the hint of embarrassment she had seen—touched her. She hoped his life was going to be okay.

  “What about Alex?” Afton asked.

  “He got through all right, but he’s involved in the occupation. He felt bad that he couldn’t be with Anna when she had her baby—but everything went fine. She had a little boy.”

  “Good.”

  “The best thing is, they named him Gene.”

  “Oh, Bobbi.” Afton took Bobbi in her arms again. “That’s so wonderful. It’s exactly right.”

  Bobbi felt the same, of course. But she never mentioned the baby, his name, without tears coming to her eyes. She wanted so much to see him, hold him, and she had no idea when she would finally have the chance to do that.

  Afton stepped back, patted Bobbi’s arm. “Listen,” she said, “I have a million things to do. You know how it is around here. But I’m working six to six today, and I should get off on time. Can you spend the evening with me?”

  “I think so. Once we get the ship cleared we’ve got some cleaning and resupplying to take care of, but I’m pretty sure I can get shore leave tonight. I’d like to see Ishi. Is Daniel still all right?”

  “Yes. Ishi found out after the fighting stopped in Europe that he had been wounded again—for the third time. He didn’t tell her until he was recovering. But now he’s admitted that he might walk with a limp the rest of his life.”

  “But he’s alive,” Bobbi said. “I guess the three of us got what we wanted. Our men have all been wounded, but they made it. When are you going to get married? I thought you might have done that by now.”

  “We are getting married, but it’s all such a mess. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

  Bobbi went back to her ship, but shortly after six that afternoon she was able to get permission to go ashore. She put on a civilian
dress—a little beige shift she had bought in the Philippines—and walked through the navy base, past the white buildings. Returning here, she was reminded of all the things she had loved: the trade winds, the delicate smell of plumeria, the almost constant rustle of palm fronds, and the memories associated with everything she looked at. She decided, before she went on to meet Afton, to walk to the back of the hospital and sit down on the bench where Richard had proposed to her—the same bench where she had talked with Gene the last time. But when she sat down, she was unprepared for all the emotions that came over her. Many times, after Gene had been killed, she had come here to remember him, and his loss had always brought to mind the vulnerability of all the others she hoped would make it through the war: Alex and Wally, Richard, Daniel. She wished so much now that those worries could end. The killing was over, but Wally was like a fictional character, so long invisible that he hardly seemed real. Maybe he was dead. She had to admit that. And maybe that was the next great pain she would have to deal with, after all these years of waiting.

  Maybe it had been a mistake to come to this little spot. Bobbi was certain that she needed to get up and walk away from the bench before long, but she didn’t do it yet. Two or three times, sitting here, she had felt the touch of God, and that was absolute in her own mind. It was something to build her life upon. Most of the faith she possessed, she had learned here at this navy base, or in her ward in Honolulu. She would always be thankful for that. So she said a prayer. She thanked the Lord for the things she had learned, and she prayed that she might not ever lose what she had gained during the war. She prayed for Wally. She prayed for Richard. She prayed for her family. And then she offered a kind of benediction on the war. “Let all of us learn from this,” she said.

  She got up, but she took her time, walked around the base a little more before she finally was ready to break with the revery she was feeling. But when she finally sat down with Afton, in the room where the two had lived together so long, another set of concentrated, potent memories came back.

  Afton seemed to feel that too. “This is how it ought to be, Bobbi,” she said. “I wish you had never left.”

  “What about Marla? Hasn’t she been all right?”

  “Not really. These have been some rough months for me, and she’s not understanding about it the way you were. I know she doesn’t approve of me marrying Sam. She makes fun of Hawaiians all the time, like they’re all stupid.”

  “What are your parents saying now?”

  “Well . . . that’s the problem. I think they’ve said what they have to say, and now they’re hoping I’ll back down.”

  Afton was lying on her side, on her bed. She had showered, and she had on a faded blue terrycloth robe. She had always loved to lounge around that way, with her hair wrapped in a towel, rather than to get dressed quickly, the way Bobbi always did. Bobbi sat down on the wooden chair, by the little desk where she had sat to write so many letters.

  “Haven’t your parents softened at all?” she asked.

  “Not really. Mom tries to be understanding, but she keeps saying, ‘Come home for a while before you decide,’ and I know what she’s thinking: If I get back to Arizona, I’ll remember how people feel about Mexicans and Indians and Negroes, and I’ll see that marrying a Hawaiian is a big mistake.”

  “They need to meet Sam.”

  “That’s what I’ve said to them over and over. But I think it scares them to think of having grandchildren who aren’t white.”

  “Afton, for people who grew up when they did, and—”

  “You don’t have to tell me. You know how I felt the first time I had dinner with Ishi. I’m not blaming my parents for how they feel. I just wish they understood my feelings.”

  “So when are you going to get married?”

  “I still don’t know. But I think I do want to go home once before we do.”

  “Maybe you will change your mind.”

  “No. I’m not going to do that. And that’s part of what I want my parents to see. But also, I’ve been here all these years, and you know how homesick I was at first. Now, I just want to have what I dreamed about for so long—that moment of walking back into my house, feeling completely at home again.”

  “And then give it up forever?”

  “Yes.” Afton sat up. She looked at Bobbi resolutely. “I can do it. I like Hawaii. I can live here all my life. But I don’t know whether my parents will ever come to visit us. And if I go home with Sam, I know how people will look at me, and how awkward my parents will feel. So I want one trip home, as soon as the navy will let me go, and then, if my parents won’t support us, we’ll get married anyway.”

  “And Sam is okay with that?”

  “Sort of. But if the navy won’t let me out pretty soon, then I don’t know. I keep hearing that if women have definite plans to be married that’s supposed to be taken into consideration, but I guess half the girls in the nurse’s corps are claiming they’re engaged. They probably are, too.”

  Bobbi laughed. “How would you like to make the decision about who gets out? All these loved-starved women can’t be easy to deal with.”

  “Oh, Bobbi, I swear, Sam and I are both going to bust something if we don’t get married pretty soon.”

  Afton could still embarrass Bobbi, who laughed, but she knew she was blushing. “Get dressed,” she said. “Let’s go see Ishi.”

  Bobbi and Afton took the bus into Honolulu—which brought back more memories. Afton had called ahead, so Ishi was waiting when they arrived. She was dressed in a pretty brown dress and high heels, as though she felt the occasion was too important for everyday clothes. She hugged Bobbi, and then Lily approached—smiling but hesitant. She had grown taller and skinnier in the past six months. “You’re so beautiful,” Bobbi told her, and she took Lily in her arms.

  “Our daddy’s coming home,” she told Bobbi.

  “Yes, I know. Do you know when?”

  Lily looked at her mother. “We’re not sure,” Ishi said. “He’s in the States, but he’s still in a hospital. He has enough points to get out immediately, but they want to do another surgery on his knee.”

  Bobbi had spotted David. He was standing across the room by the kitchen doorway. His hair looked recently combed, still wet. When Bobbi looked at him, he looked away. “Hey, none of that. I’m your Aunt Bobbi, and you have to hug me.”

  He walked forward and stood before Bobbi, let her take him in her arms, but he said nothing. “Since when did you get shy?” Bobbi asked.

  “He’s not,” Ishi said. “Just give him a minute to remember you a little. He’ll talk your leg off.”

  But now he retreated, back to the kitchen door, and everyone else sat down, Bobbi and Ishi together on the couch, with Lily between them, and Afton on the big chair facing them. “Ishi, how bad is Daniel’s leg?” Bobbi asked.

  “I wish I knew. He makes it sound like it’s hardly anything. But a shell fragment must have torn up his knee really bad. They’ve operated on it three times.”

  “The important thing is, he’s coming home. Think how many times we prayed for that.”

  “I know. And I’m not worried about a limp. But I can tell that he is. He only mentioned it once, but I know it hurts his pride to think that he won’t be quite the same.”

  “Ishi, that’s what Richard is going through, and I guess I’m not as understanding as I ought to be, but I saw so many men who were hurt worse.”

  Ishi looked down, and Bobbi remembered the quiet, diffident way she would speak when she disagreed. “Bobbi, we’ve never had our bodies damaged. We don’t know how we would feel to have something like that done to us.”

  “I know. I try to tell myself that. And Richard is worrying about making a living. But I think what he’s most ashamed of right now is that he’s lost his bearings a little and doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. To him, I don’t think that’s a manly thing to admit to.”

  “Bobbi,” Afton said, “what about you two getting marri
ed? Is he having second thoughts about that?”

  “I guess so. I don’t know for sure. He’s got it in his head that my family is rich, and I might not want to marry a guy who doesn’t have his future all planned out. He told me I could back out if I want.”

  “But you would never think of that, would you?” Afton asked.

  “No. Not for that reason. But I might back out if he won’t even fight for me. I’m just not sure he’s that committed to me.”

  “Oh, Bobbi,” Ishi said, “I just think these guys are coming home confused and nervous about everything. It’s a big adjustment. I keep hearing about so many men who come home without a scratch but all changed inside. They’ll be all right, I think, but we just can’t push them too fast.”

  “All these years, all we talked about was the war ending. We didn’t take into account all the ways the war would come home with the warriors.”

  Bobbi looked at Afton, who nodded, and then at Ishi, who whispered, “Yes. But we still have plenty to be thankful for.”

  “I know. I won’t complain anymore,” Bobbi said, and she thought of all the times the three of them had tried to imagine this day. What they had now was more complicated than they had wanted but so much better than what they had feared.

  Bobbi asked Afton and Ishi about the ward and about all the families she knew. What Bobbi was beginning to notice was that Afton was not as animated as usual, and in fact, she seemed to become more subdued as the conversation continued. Finally, Bobbi asked her why.

  But Afton wouldn’t look at her. “Bobbi, there’s something I need to tell you. I thought it might be better if I waited until we were here with Ishi.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bobbi heard the reluctance in Afton’s voice, and she was suddenly frightened. Had her parents contacted Afton somehow? Was this news about Wally?

  “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  She paused again, and Bobbi was suddenly irritated. “Just tell me. What is it?”

  “Bobbi, David Stinson was here, in our hospital. He was shot in the abdomen, in Okinawa. He had surgery in Guam, and then they flew him here and operated again.”