by Dean Hughes
“Is he still here? Is he all right?”
“He’s alive. But they’ve flown him to San Francisco for more surgery. His insides are really in a mess, Bobbi. He might not make it. If he does, he’s going to be in for a rough time, probably all his life.”
Bobbi took a deep breath, tried to find her equilibrium. She bent forward, put her face in her hands, but she was too stunned to cry.
Afton came to the couch and sat next to Bobbi, put her arms around her. “I want to tell you what he told me. I know this isn’t easy, but I promised him I would tell you, and I think you’ll want to know.”
But Bobbi didn’t. She knew what Afton was going to say.
Afton took her time before she said, “He told me he wished he could have believed in the Church, so he could have married you. He wasn’t all tragic and sad about it. He kept laughing and making jokes about this being his deathbed repentance. He knows he’s in trouble. We kept pumping blood into him the whole time he was here. But he did mean what he told me. He said, ‘The one thing I feel bad about is that I made another little pitch for her. And I shouldn’t have done that. I know she’ll be a lot happier with Richard.’ Then he told me, ‘If I don’t make it through this next operation, tell her that the best single thing that happened to me in my life was knowing her.’ I might not have said some of it the way he said it, but that last part was exactly what he told me. I’ve said it over and over so I wouldn’t forget.”
Bobbi felt a wave of frustration go through her. For a moment she was angry at Afton for telling her this. But mostly she was angry at David, who couldn’t resist this indulgence. Life was always a kind of performance for him, and he had probably liked doing a death scene—even laughing, sounding brave and noble—and all the while expecting to live.
But that was unfair—true and yet not true—and Bobbi knew it. David had loved her, and he had given her up, long ago, for unselfish reasons. She tried to think what he must be going through. She wondered how he felt about God now, whether he was afraid of going on to nothingness. Maybe he would live, and maybe this was the experience that would finally humble him, bring him to believe.
Bobbi let her anger shift, let it focus on the war. David loved ideas and music and literature. With so many brutes in this world, why couldn’t such a harmless man have been allowed to come home whole?
“Bobbi, how do you feel about David now?” Afton asked. “I liked him so much.”
“Don’t do that to me,” Bobbi said, but she was already doing it to herself. She wanted to go to him now, to help him live. And she didn’t know what it meant that she felt that way.
Ishi finally moved Lily, gently, and then slid closer to Bobbi. “Remember when we sat here together on Christmas day and talked about inviting the whole world over for a good cry?”
Bobbi nodded. It was a funny memory—one of those things they had done to deal with their worries.
“Well, it’s time. The killing is over, so maybe the crying is worth it now.”
“I’ve lost too much,” Bobbi said. “I still might lose Wally—and maybe David, too. I feel like I can’t take a good, healthy breath until I know for sure they’re both all right.”
There was nothing to say to that, and neither Afton nor Ishi was naive enough to try. But they did cry for the world again, for David and Gene, for Daniel and Richard, and for all the rest. No one said anything, but each had known young men who had died, and each had memories to deal with.
What Bobbi knew, however, was that the crying wouldn’t help. This loss of David, if it came to that, was just one more scar she would have to carry around with her. But she also knew what she had learned many times in the past few years: she was not alone, and there were many who had dealt with more. She would not wallow in self-pity. She had read about the starvation in Europe, the death of so many Jews, the devastation in Japan and the islands of the Pacific. Her suffering was nothing compared to all that.
“Let’s laugh,” she finally said. “I don’t want to cry anymore. Did I ever tell you about the time David kissed me the first time—in his office at the U?”
“Bobbi! No, you never told me that. I can’t believe you didn’t.”
Bobbi laughed. “It’s worse than you think. I was engaged at the time, to Phil. I even went to David’s apartment once and then showed up late to a family party. I kissed him that night, too. And then I lied to my family about where I’d been.”
“Bobbi! That’s the worst thing I ever heard about you. And you didn’t even tell me? You aren’t as holy as I always thought you were.”
Bobbi laughed. But the emotion was finally too much for her. She leaned forward, put her face into her hands, and sobbed.
Chapter 32
Wally didn’t wake up in time for breakfast, but then, he had eaten all those hotcakes in the middle of the night. When he did get up, he went back to the showers, and this time he stood for a long time, soaping himself and scrubbing, then just standing in the hot water, letting it run down his back. There were all sorts of things to think about: the trip home, seeing everyone again. But mostly for now, he just wanted to bask in all the pleasantness of life. Certain things, like the warm water and the good food, he hoped he would never take for granted again, never experience without feeling thankful.
When he returned to the mess hall, he was offered either breakfast or lunch, but both looked so good he took everything. He ate eggs and bacon and more hotcakes, and he also made himself a sandwich of baked ham and cheese on white bread. He tasted mustard for the first time in all these years, and the intensity of the flavor was almost shocking. He knew he had to be careful about stuffing himself too full. He didn’t want to make himself sick, but he just couldn’t resist eating while he had the chance. It was hard to believe that more food would be available later.
Chuck and Art had gone with Wally to the mess hall, and they had met Don and Eddy there. As soon as they had eaten, all of them walked over to the camp administrative office and asked about getting out that day. A sergeant asked them, “How soon can you be ready to go?”
“We are ready to go,” Wally told him. They had brought their packs with them, and that was everything they owned. All five were still wearing their Japanese army uniforms, and they couldn’t wait to get rid of those.
“Get in the back of that truck out front,” the sergeant told them. “We’re taking a group out to the airfield in just a few minutes.”
Wally looked at his friends, and they all laughed. This was it. They were getting out of this place at last. Wally wondered whether it wasn’t too good to be true, but the only hitch was a short delay at the airfield. The men boarded a beat-up C-46, and the big bird lumbered down the airstrip and lifted into the air. There was lots of rattling and whining, but the thing held together. Wally was glad to be traveling this way—as fast as possible. “Remember the last time we crossed this water?” Wally yelled to his friends over the noise of the engines.
“Oh, man, what a difference!” Art said.
Wally was thinking, of course, of the hell ship—all those weeks down in the hold, with the heat and the stench and the starvation rations. His seat now was a fold-out chair that hung from the wall of the airplane. It was anything but comfortable, but Wally shut his eyes and said a prayer of thanks. He was leaving Japan. There was no way he could imagine anything worse ever happening to him than what he had been through here.
Once the plane was well underway, and the noise quieted some, one of the crew, a lieutenant in a khaki jumpsuit, came back and asked the men how they were doing. All the men were happy, and they were laughing and talking and enjoying themselves. Wally asked the officer, “What happened to the POWs who were left in the Philippines—the ones who didn’t get shipped to Japan—do you know?”
The lieutenant walked closer and spoke loudly to be heard over the rumble. “As far as I know, they were all freed. I don’t think the Japanese dared to do anything to them. I know that big camp—whatever it’s called—”
“Yeah. It was liberated before the island was entirely secured. I was never up there, but I saw pictures of a lot of guys coming out of there looking like scarecrows.”
“Like us?”
“No. You guys look pretty good by comparison.”
“That’s because we’ve been eating for over a month.” Wally knew he had gained at least twenty pounds. But he doubted he weighed one hundred thirty yet. “Did our troops have a hard time taking the Philippines back?”
“Yeah, they did. The Japs held on as long as they could. They didn’t declare Manila an open city the way we did, back at the beginning of the war. They stayed in the city and fought, and so the whole place got blown apart. It’s pretty much flattened now.”
Wally couldn’t imagine that. Manila had been so beautiful. He had hoped to see it again on the way home and remember the good times he had experienced there.
“What’s life been like back in the States?” Art asked. “Has the war changed things much?”
“Well, the folks back home thought they had it pretty hard, and I guess they did in some ways. You couldn’t get much gas to drive a car, and buying a tire was like trying to hold up a bank. Lots of other things were rationed, too: sugar, coffee, butter, meat.”
“Oh, those poor babies,” Eddy said.
All the men around the lieutenant laughed, and he seemed confused for a moment. “Hey, you gotta understand,” Wally said. “We’ve hardly eaten a pound of meat—all of us together—during this whole war.”
“Look, I know. But when you get back, you need to be careful about what you say. People—even the kids—had to give up a lot. Everybody worked together to get this victory. People held drives to collect metal, paper, rubber, string. They even saved their cooking fat, poured it off into cans, and carried it to the butcher. They got a few ration points per pound, but mostly they just did it because the government asked it of them. And it was always, ‘We’re doing this for the boys overseas.’ Most people couldn’t take a vacation or even drive a car on a pleasure ride. I know that doesn’t sound as bad as you fellows had it, but there was a lot of effort put in, and you guys need to respect that.”
Wally thought that was right, but he also thought of the people of Japan and the suffering there. He was relieved to know that the folks back home hadn’t had to experience anything like that.
“What I want to know,” Chuck said, “is whether there are still some girls back there waiting for Johnny to come marching home.”
“No problem. But I’ll tell you, girls ain’t the same as they used to be. Most of ’em have been out working, building airplanes, pumping gas—everything. You guys don’t even know about Rosie the Riveter, do you?”
“Who?”
“It’s just a name they used on posters and—but you don’t know about all the posters, either.”
“What do you mean? What posters?”
“There were signs up everywhere. ‘Buy bonds’ or—”
“Bonds?”
“Yeah. The government sold bonds to pay for the war. You could pay eighteen bucks for a bond that would come due in so many years and would be worth twenty-five by then. That kind of thing.”
“But who was this riveter girl?”
“Rosie. She was a symbol. A lot of women had to go to work, so they used this picture of a woman in her overalls, working for the victory. It was something to be proud of, women getting out and doing their share for the war effort.”
All of it was more than Wally could imagine. Somehow, even though he had known a war was going on, he had pictured life back home pretty much the same as it had always been.
The men had hundreds of other questions, and the time passed quickly. Wally had flown a couple of times before—just quick flights for the fun of it, back when he was in the Philippines—but he had never actually traveled this way. He couldn’t believe how quickly the plane was landing in Okinawa—a place he had never heard of, but which he now knew had been the site of a major battle.
When the men piled out of the C-46, they were told to walk across the field to a Red Cross wagon. “They’ve got doughnuts and coffee, maybe some sandwiches for you,” the pilot told the men.
Wally hadn’t thought to be hungry again already, but a doughnut was something he had almost forgotten about. He found himself hurrying, as though the food would disappear before he got there. But halfway across the field, he realized what he was seeing. There were four women, Red Cross workers, standing near the refreshment wagon. His first thought was that they were amazingly tall, and then he realized they were Americans. These were the first American women he had seen for almost three and a half years.
Chuck was walking next to him, and the two slowed automatically. “Look at those girls,” Chuck whispered. “They’re beautiful.”
Wally was suddenly all too aware of how he looked. He could only imagine how horrified these women would be to see men in Japanese uniforms, their hair so crudely cut, and so emaciated. He was embarrassed, but as he neared, he saw they were smiling. “Welcome home, boys,” one of them said, a gorgeous young woman with red hair and freckles. “Life is going to get better now. Eat all you want.”
Wally turned his head. She was looking right at him, it seemed, and he was afraid he had been staring—gaping—back at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say, any normal way to respond. What did people say at times like this? How had he ever talked to girls before? He honestly couldn’t imagine ever doing it again. But he kept taking quick glances at the four women, especially the red-haired one, who had perfect teeth, white and straight—a smile so beguiling it hurt to look at it. He thought of Lorraine Gardner, who didn’t really look like this girl, but whose smile had always had the same effect on him.
Wally took a proffered doughnut and a Coca-Cola. He could hardly believe the taste, like explosions in his mouth. And then he saw Hershey bars. He tried to wait, not seem too eager, but others were already starting on their second doughnut, and so he got himself a candy bar. He stuffed the rest of the doughnut into his mouth and tore the wrapper on the Hershey bar. His impulse was to eat fast so he could get another one before they were all gone. But he knew that was stupid, and he had to stop thinking that way. There were lots of candy bars, and there would be from now on. He couldn’t start eating too much candy and soda pop; he knew it wasn’t good for him. All the same, he was eating the chocolate quickly, and then he edged in close and got two more. He was embarrassed, but he knew just one was not going to satisfy the desire he had for sweets.
Chuck was still eating doughnuts, and he had taken a second Coke. He and Wally stood together and kept eating, neither one saying a word. Wally could see that Chuck was doing the same thing he was: watching every move the women made. They were so friendly and lovely; they joked with the men, touched them on the arm, encouraged them to take more. And they never stopped smiling or laughing in voices that were wonderfully musical. Wally wanted to say something to one of them, make a joke or ask about the weather—just anything to speak directly to them. But he couldn’t do it, and when one of the girls circulated among the men with a tray of doughnuts, he took another one, but he could only manage to say “Thank you” and nothing more.
When the men finally broke themselves away from the refreshments, they were led to a supply depot. There, a supply sergeant was much less melodic than the women had been. “Strip them ugly Jap uniforms off right now,” he told them. “What you guys got for brains, running around in them things?”
Wally and Chuck laughed. No one could upset them now. This guy had no idea how nice the uniforms had seemed after the way they had dressed for the past few years. They walked through a line, all of the men stark naked and skinny, and were happy to get a complete army uniform and a barracks bag. Once they were dressed—and looking magnificently better than they had for a long time—they were led to a row of tents and assigned bunks. Wally and Chuck were together and got placed in the same tent, but their other f
riends were assigned to the next tent in the line. It was strange to be separated. The five men had come to depend on each other constantly. Wally wondered whether he would be able to separate himself from them when the time finally came.
But now the men were being told to go to the mess hall—to eat once again. Wally thought he couldn’t eat much so soon, but the food smelled wonderful, and he piled his tray high. Behind him, at another table, he heard some men who were stationed at the base complaining about the quality of the food. “Can you believe that?” he asked Chuck.
Art, who was sitting across the table from Chuck and Wally, said, “How long are we going to feel this way—like everything we get is just too great to believe? I don’t want to complain about anything, ever again.”
That, of course, was what Wally kept wondering. He hadn’t slept on a bed yet, with sheets, and he hadn’t seen his family, but he was almost sure he would always appreciate such simple pleasures for the rest of his life.
After the men ate, they walked outside, stuffed and happy and wondering what to do. “Let’s walk over to the Red Cross hut,” Eddy said. “I heard you can get toothbrushes and stuff like that.”
“Is it a toothbrush you want, or do you want to look at those girls again?” Chuck asked him.
“I want a toothbrush for now.” He grinned. “But someday, I want to be brushing my teeth in the morning and have a girl like that redhead to share the mirror with me. Do you think, if I proposed to her, she’d go home with me?”
“It’s worth a try,” Chuck said, and he laughed. “But you’d better hurry before everyone else beats you to her.”
“No,” Wally said. “We’re all too afraid to talk to her.”
“I’d like to ask her where she’s from, or something like that,” Chuck said. “But I gotta keep my lips tight—so she won’t see how bad my teeth are.”
Wally laughed. He would have sworn they were all fifteen years old again.