“I guess I will have to.”
Chapter 49
Springtime had arrived and the braceros had returned to the town. Frankie was especially heartened when he saw Hector among them because he wanted to discuss a foreman job with him. But he decided to wait for a couple of weeks until he settled into his work again before approaching him.
One day after work was over, Frankie pulled Hector aside and asked to speak to him a moment. “I can only spare a couple of minutes or else I will miss the bus,” Hector said.
“Don’t worry about the bus. I can drive you back to your barracks.”
Hector looked at Frankie, trying to read his body language. He had no idea why the boss wanted to speak to him and he was worried about it. He could not lose the job his family in Mexico was depending on to support them. Even so, he tried to mask his worry with a façade of confidence.
“Hector,” Frankie began, “I have noticed since last season how good you are at your job and with the men as well, always showing them the best and fastest way to pick the strawberries. They have a lot of respect for you.”
“I am grateful for your kind words. But I’ve had a lot of experience in Mexico with strawberries, which some of the men have not had. They need a few lessons so they can be better and make more money. After all, you pay us by the crate not the hour.”
Not wanting to get into a labor discussion, Frankie said, “I’ll get right to the point.” He noticed Hector pull back his shoulders as if bracing himself for bad news. “Relax. I have good news. I’d like to make you a foreman over the braceros.”
Hector let out the breath he had been holding. But he still did not understand the meaning of Frankie’s words. “Foreman? What would you want me to do?”
“I would like you to spend less time picking and more time managing the men.”
“But then I will have less crates and payday will not be good.”
“You’d be moving up in management, and a manager receives a salary instead of pay per crate picked.”
“Salary? I don’t understand how that works. Explain please.”
“On payday you would receive a set amount, which will be much more than if you picked strawberries.”
“What would this amount be?”
“I will pay twice the money you make for picking alone. You can still work alongside the farmhands, but I want you to help them be more efficient. It will make them happy, too, since they will be able to fill more crates per day.”
“I see. This sounds good. Is there anything else to it?”
“We should meet once or twice a week to discuss problems and improvements. That’s it.”
Frankie extended his arm to shake hands. Hector clasped Frankie’s hand in a tight grip, “Deal.”
Chapter 50
On October 23, 1943 the navy officially invaded Watsonville. Martin was invited to attend the dedication ceremony of the auxiliary airship base and brought all three sons along. The navy had a couple of blimps tethered for visitors to tour as well as several war planes on display—Hellcats, Avengers, Corsairs, Dauntless—all of which made take offs and landings on the new ramp to impress their audience, a few of them catching war fever.
“What do you think about the navy operation?” Martin asked his sons.
Marty was the first to respond. “Sign me up.” The glamor of flight, the men in uniform and the excitement of war had all appealed to his young, vital male spirit.
“Me, too,” said Tom Paul.
“Now wait a minute. I didn’t bring you here for a recruitment campaign. Marty, you’re committed to fishing to help Giovanni provide for his family. Going off to war is not something you should be thinking about.”
“It’s time I do my duty. Being here today is just a reminder that the time has come.”
Martin knew he would catch hell from Lena when he got home. She didn’t want any of her sons going off to war after what she had experienced with his World War I adventure. But he knew men must be men at times like these and, when duty called, their only recourse was to answer. He had felt it once himself, and he had been more than thirty years old, a time when a man is losing his vitality, and he was a family man besides. His sons were young and single so there would be nothing holding them back, not even a mother’s pleas and tears.
The next week, both Marty and Tom Paul asked to speak with Martin when he got home from work. “Well,” Marty said, “I’ve volunteered for the navy. The ocean has always held a fascination for me. I want to become a submariner. Those submarines we toured were otherworldly. I’ve spent time on top of the ocean, now I want to learn what’s below it.”
Martin knew this would be coming. Now he turned his gaze toward Tom Paul. “And what about you?”
“I volunteered, too. But I want to learn how to fly one of those planes we saw last week and become a fighter pilot.”
“And what about Frankie? Did he sign up as well?”
“No. You know, Pa, he’s a man of the land. He’s happiest being outside communing with nature.”
“He has certainly lived up to his namesake. But he’s nearly thirty so I assume war does not hold the same fascination for him that it does for the two of you. Being young, you have romantic notions. And, of course, war does have some romance to it. But believe me, what you will experience will mostly be a living hell. Even so, we all must do what we can to preserve our freedom.”
It wasn’t long before both Marty and Tom Paul left to begin their training at Mare Island, the same place Martin did his. Lena bid them a tearful good bye at the train station saying, “Come back to me, you hear.” Then she turned to Martin. “You are responsible for this. They are following your example.”
Martin thought it better not to reply when Lena was so emotional. They left in silence and after dropping her off at home, he headed for the restaurant, a refuge if there ever was one.
The sight of sailors on the street brought the war close to home. Women had been rolling bandages to support the Red Cross. Now they wanted to do more for the young military men living amongst them. While some of their own sons were serving far away, they could at least do something for these American sons who were at their doorstep.
The mayor’s wife had put an idea in his head but not before he had one of his own. Simpson called Martin into his office to brainstorm the problem and solutions. “You know our town has always had a problem with vice—prostitution, gambling, narcotics. Now that the war is on, not only are troops coming over from Ford Ord, but we have over a thousand sailors here supporting these illegal activities day and night. I’ve heard our nickname is Sin City.
“I know all about it. These activities are going on not too far from my restaurant. Of course, men have always liked to play Black Jack or Fan-Tan, which the Chinese run down there by Walker Street. And prostitution’s been with us since Biblical times, but I hear it’s found a fertile soil here just as the apple trees and strawberries have. I don’t know much about drugs, but they certainly should be curbed if not eliminated. So, do you have any suggestions for dealing with these problems? I don’t think we can restrict the sailors to base.”
“My wife floated an idea by me. She thought we should start a USO, United Service Organization, in town to keep the men occupied. What do you think about that idea?”
“The women do seem to want to do more for the war effort than roll bandages. In fact, Lena’s heart goes out to these boys since she has sons in the military as well.”
“A USO might improve morale for our women as well as the servicemen. My wife has been moping around, too, since our son left.”
“I can talk to Lena about the USO and get back to you on it.”
“I have a feeling it will happen one way or the other. Janice is pushing for it and she will take the lead. With all her contacts around town through the Women’s Club, church and other organizations, there should be no shortage of women to recruit.”
“Don’t forget we need young women, too, to attract the young me
n. My daughter could help with that.”
“Then let’s get the ball rolling. We’ve got to nip the town’s reputation in the bud.”
That night after the restaurant closed, Martin decided to take a drive along Union Street. Sure enough, it was teeming with activity. Servicemen, both army and navy, hustled in and out of establishments making the most of their free time. Mexicans, most likely braceros, lined up waiting their turn at a brothel that appeared to cater to them, a Mexican flag waving at the front the porch amid the strains of a guitar. Martin wondered if by curtailing the so-called “play pens,” the town would be setting itself up for an even bigger problem. It reminded him of the riot in the 30s over Filipino men dating the town’s white women. Young, red-blooded men were not going to remain monks while living away from their women. And sailors had always been notorious for patronizing brothels whenever they were in port. It was no different here. While the USO may provide a source of recreation, it may have other unintended results, such as wartime romances that leave more than a broken heart behind. There was never a perfect answer.
As he continued down the street, he saw a man he thought he recognized come out of one of the red light houses. No, it couldn’t be. But how could he not recognize that tall frame with broad shoulders and slim hips that took long easy strides as he moved. It had to be Frankie. From time to time, Martin thought he’d become a priest. Now that thought was banished. I’ll have to talk with Lena about finding him a wife. With less eligible men in town, his best chance is now.
When Martin arrived home, he found Lena in the parlor knitting. “What’s this? A new hobby?”
“Don’t you know women are knitting for men in uniform, making socks and scarves? It’s one way to help the war effort in a very personal way. The thought that my wool creations will help a soldier keep warm uplifts me and keeps my mind from thinking about all the hardships our sons are suffering. And maybe, just maybe, some nice stranger is doing them a kindness, too.”
One son did not have to suffer a hardship tonight, quite the contrary. But Martin was not going to mention it to Lena. “Since you want to help soldiers personally, what would you think about starting a USO in town to provide them some recreation?”
“I’m sure they’re bored to death in our little town with nothing much to occupy their time. But you should talk with Clara because she would know better than me if this is something that would appeal to the young men.”
“Well, the mayor’s wife suggested it, so I think we will be moving ahead one way or other.”
“You’ll have a chance to speak to Clara at Thanksgiving dinner. She and her brood will be here.” After a difficult start, once Clara had given birth to Petie, several more followed in rapid succession—two girls and another boy. With two sons at war and another unmarried, Martin was glad to know the next generation had been secured.
Chapter 51
The family was gathered around the table for the Thanksgiving feast. They had just finished stuffing themselves with turkey and all the fixins when Martin asked Lena again about the USO. “Let’s first start with a Christmas party and see how that goes over, but we’ll have to begin planning soon.”
“Clara, do you think you could help with the party and get some young women involved?” asked Martin.
“A party certainly beats rolling bandages and knitting scarves. I think my friends will agree and join in.”
“The one thing I worry about with a Christmas party is the cookies and pastries. You know I love to bake. Since May when the sugar rationing began, I have barely used my rolling pin. And you’ll notice when I bring out the coffee that the desserts are skimpy this year.”
Lena got up from her chair to clear the table and Clara assisted her. Then they brought in the coffee service and one pumpkin pie. “We’ll have to have just a thin piece since I didn’t have the sugar to make another one nor the apple pie, which I prefer.” All eyes went to the lonely-looking pie on the table as if wondering how it was going to satisfy all the sweet tooths gathered in the room.
After Lena took her place again, she said, “I’ve been saving a letter from Marty until we were all together.” Then she pulled an envelope out of her pocket and carefully unfolded the letter inside. “Now I’ll read.”
“Dear Ma, Pa, family and friends,
I wanted to let you know I survived my training but did not make it to submarine school. Apparently, they already had all the men they needed, so I was assigned to a battleship. If they can, the navy assigns you to your state’s battleship but since the USS California was still being repaired after its shelling and sinking in Pearl Harbor, they assigned me to one named for a neighboring state…the USS Nevada. So, by the time you read this I should be in Norfolk, Virginia meeting up with my ship. Apparently, the ship will be doing convoy duty so I’ll be following in your footsteps, Pa. And, Ma, you won’t have to worry about me seeing any action and ending up battle-scarred. Anyway, military life has been good so far and I’ve been able to see a bit of the country and soon a bit of the world beyond it. They haven’t said anything about leave, so I don’t know when I will be able to see you again. But I’ll be thinking about you and miss you especially at the holidays. Maybe you could invite one of the local sailors to take my place at the table this year. If I’m lucky, I’ll be a guest, too.
With love and best wishes for a Merry Christmas, Marty”
By the time Lena finished reading, tears had begun to roll down her cheeks. “We definitely have to do something for the boys we have here to make their holidays happy. And let’s hope others do the same for Marty and Tom Paul.”
No sooner had she said his name, then the door swung open and Tom Paul appeared. “I’m back. Did you save the drumstick for me?”
Lena jumped up from her chair and ran to her son, knocking off his sailor’s cap she was so excited. Then she helped him out of his navy pea coat and sat him down at the table. “We have plenty of leftovers. I will make up a plate for you.”
“What are you doing home?” Martin asked. “Are you on leave?”
“Actually, I’ve been assigned to the Navy Auxiliary Air Station. I’m going to learn dive-bombing.”
“So, I assume you already earned your wings.”
“That I have. Flying is an experience like no other, and I took to it like a duck to water or rather a bird to air.”
“How long do you think you’ll be here?”
“A month or more. It just depends.”
“Depends on what?” said Lena, as she placed a plate full of turkey and fixins in front of him.
“It depends on the war strategy and what battles are coming up in the Pacific. That’s where the pilots head to from here. Maybe I’ll get lucky and get stationed in Honolulu.”
“Now wouldn’t that be nice…you and the hula girls,” said Lena. Tom Paul blushed. He had been thinking the same thing.
“I’m glad you’ll be here for the holidays. We’re going to put on a party for the servicemen, and you’ll be a good source for what sort of party they’d like to have.”
“Food, drink, girls. That’s all you need to have to satisfy us servicemen.”
Clara gave her mother a disgusted look. Martin caught it and said, “Now, we have to keep it above board, especially with the mayor’s wife involved.” Tom Paul frowned and went back to eating his dinner.
Chapter 52
Martin was in his restaurant on December 4, preparing for Saturday night dinner, when Michael threw the door wide open being the first in with the news. “Radio Free Yugoslavia is announcing that Tito has formed a provisional government.”
“Oh, my God. Our prayers have been answered.”
“Tito and those Partisans are something else, real fierce fighters. They freed Bosnia fighting a German army more than twice their size and better equipped.”
“We have Churchill to thank for that. He decided to put his money on Tito and it’s paid off.”
“He recognized that the Partisans kept the Germans
from advancing to North Africa, which helped the British there.”
The door opened again and Filip, Henrik, and Josip entered followed by Karlo and a group of men, some known to Martin, others not. “We’re all here to celebrate,” said Filip.
“Well, sit down. I’ll bring out the sljivovica.” As he turned back toward the kitchen, Liu and Chao were carrying trays filled with glasses and a couple of bottles of the plum liquor. When Martin saw everyone had a glass in hand, he raised his. “Death to all Fascists! Liberty to the people!” Then in unison, they all slugged the liquor, thinking of their homeland.
“That toast was the best one you could have made,” said Michael. “After those Nazis bombed Belgrade and the country surrendered, that slogan appeared in the square giving voice to the resistance. And no sooner had the people made the decision to fight than their leader Tito appeared.”
“And now he needs to liberate the rest of the country. My ancestral home, Dubrovnik, is not yet free.”
“Tito is on the move so it will happen in time,” said Karlo. “I’m going to contact the Slavonic Society in San Francisco to find out if there are ways we can help. They should know something.”
That evening the restaurant remained packed with Croatians wanting to gather to share in their homeland’s victory. While Martin shared in the joy, he couldn’t keep thoughts of his sons out of his mind. He knew Marty was going to serve on a convoy ship but that also had its hazards. Besides the mission could change depending on the winds of war. And then there was Tom Paul, who would probably see action. The end of the war still was not in sight. He hoped that his sons could survive.
The USO Christmas Party was set for the Sunday before Christmas when servicemen had a few free hours available. Janice Simpson, the mayor’s wife, had put all of her energy into making it a success. For a portly woman in her mid-fifties, Janice still radiated energy, her bleached blond hair and heavy makeup providing the façade of youth. She had recruited all of her friends in town, not a small number, to help decorate and cater the event. Because of the concern that the church hall at St. Patrick’s would not be able to accommodate all the sailors at once, they had issued invitations in two-hour blocks beginning at 2:00 p.m. until midnight.
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