The Beantown Girls

by Jane Healey

  “I know you did. How is he?” I asked.

  “He needs his dressings changed again. And he’s pretty weak and pale.”

  “We’ll find that checkpoint soon,” I said, not convinced at all.

  Hoffman was already adding the petrol to the tank. I looked up at majestic fir trees all around us, their branches weighted down by the snow.

  “This is not how this is going to end,” I whispered under my breath.

  “What did you say?” Hoffman asked, frowning at me.

  “Talking to myself,” I said. “I was just thinking that my friends and I did not come this far to end up captured by Germans or freezing to death on a road in the middle of enemy territory. I will be damned if that happens. We are getting out of here if I have to push this damn truck across the Allied lines myself.”

  “I don’t think it will come to that,” Hoffman said, giving me a small smile, sensing that I was a woman on the verge of losing it. “And I promise you I’m not asking because you’re a woman or a bad driver, but if you need a break, let me know. You’re actually a great driver.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry . . . it’s just, it’s been a long week.”

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said with a laugh. He held up the can. “She’s filled up as much as she can be; hopefully that’ll do it.”

  We climbed back in, where Viv was taking a smoke break, her hand shaking from cold or nerves or both as she inhaled a Chesterfield. She offered one to Hoffman, which he gladly accepted.

  “Say a prayer that this thing starts and we’re not stuck on this road,” I said as I fired up the Cheyenne.

  The Cheyenne spun its wheels a few times, but after I banged on the steering wheel and swore at it, we started to move forward. We drove another twenty minutes, my hands gripping the wheel as I leaned over it and kept an eye out for oncoming vehicles.

  “Do you see that, Fi?” Viv said, pointing ahead. “Cat-eye lights through the snow, coming this way.”

  “I see them,” I said, as the lights got closer.

  “What if it’s Germans?” Hoffman asked. The truck came closer still. I stopped the Cheyenne but kept the headlights on.

  “It’s impossible to tell in this weather . . . if it’s Germans,” I said. “I don’t know, but there’s no hiding from them now.”

  I jumped out of the cab and stood in between our tiny headlights, waving my arms and jumping up and down. The truck was a hundred feet away now, driving very slowly; it had spotted us too. It stopped. Snow had seeped into my fleece-lined boots, and it felt like icicles were forming on my toes. My hands were sore and freezing, yet I was still sweating from the stress of it all. I was desperate, ready to beg for mercy if it was the Germans, anything to get us all back to relative safety and get the colonel medical attention.

  “Hello!” I yelled, cupping my hands together.

  “Hello,” the driver leaned out and called back. There were two men in the cab of the truck; the passenger opened his side and jumped out.

  “Americans!” I said, laughing through tears. “Oh, thank God. So, we’re over the line?”

  “You are,” said the passenger, walking over to me. “We’re from the closest command post. Everyone’s heard the story of your crew trapped in Vielsalm. Lots of soldiers have been keeping an eye out for you.”

  “I take it these are the girls everyone has been looking for?” the driver yelled to us, laughing.

  “Yes,” the soldier said, turning to him with a smile, then looking back at me. “That’s Cal, and I’m Nate. How are you all holding up?”

  I told him about the colonel’s injuries, and his face got serious.

  “We’ll escort you to the command post and get him fixed up there,” he said. I started walking away when he called out, “Oh, Fiona, Captain Moretti from the Eighty-Second wanted me to let you know he’s been searching for you too.”

  “Wait,” I said, as I tried to process his words. “Is he at the command post?”

  “He was,” Cal said. “But those guys were heading to the front any minute, so they might already be gone.”

  I got back into the Cheyenne’s cab, not able to stop grinning ear to ear as the driver deftly turned the truck around so we could follow behind.

  “Peter’s been searching too,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Searching for you, through these crazy woods beyond the enemy lines?” Viv said. “Even though I’m sure that’s not supposed to be his priority right now?”

  “Searching for us, yes,” I said.

  Viv paused for a second, looking at me.

  “Fiona, honey, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything. She was right, and I felt the now-familiar pangs of guilt settle over my euphoria. But I still desperately wanted to see Peter before he left for the front.

  So I started up the Cheyenne and followed the truck down the road, hoping I’d have that opportunity.

  We arrived at the command post a half an hour later and were greeted with cheers and applause by dozens of soldiers who had heard our story of being trapped at Vielsalm. Several of them helped lift the colonel out of the back and get him safely to the medical tent.

  “Dottie!” Joe Brandon came running over, and Dottie screamed as he lifted her into his arms and twirled her around, giving her a kiss that had all the soldiers whistling.

  Viv and Hoffman followed some soldiers to the mess hall. I trailed behind them at a distance. Just as I was about to enter the hall, I saw a group of soldiers walking from the other direction. One of them had a boxer’s build that I would have known anywhere.

  “Fiona Denning, didn’t I tell you to get the hell out if things got too hot?” Peter yelled.

  I ran to him and jumped into his arms. He scooped me up and kissed my salty tears, and the officers that had been walking with him laughed and cheered us before walking on without him. I buried my face in his chest, feeling safe for the first time in forever.

  “How are you even here?” I looked at him when he set me down.

  “I could ask the same of you.”

  “Thank you for searching,” I said.

  “Of course,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe how many soldiers have been looking for you three. You Red Cross girls have more fans than you even realize.”

  He held my hand, and it felt like a jolt of electricity was surging through my fingers. “But what were you thinking going to Vielsalm when the rest of your group was going in the opposite direction?”

  I told him about the mail trucks at Bastogne, and the promise I’d made to the major at Vielsalm and how it was supposed to be a quick trip.

  He sighed.

  “What?” I said.

  “I can’t decide if you’re very brave or very stupid,” he said. I started to protest being called stupid but then looked over to see him quietly laughing, teasing me.

  “I think naïve might be the best word,” I said. “We had no idea how quickly things would turn.”

  “Nobody did,” he said, a shadow crossing his face. “They caught us with our guard down this time.”

  We walked back over to the mess hall, but he stopped there, taking my elbow and pulling me behind the dining area, where we weren’t in view of every soldier entering.

  “I’m heading out, Fiona,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Now,” he said.

  I closed my eyes. Of course he was.

  “I’m not even supposed to be here,” he said. “I called in a favor to stay back for a day. To look for you. I’ve got a few guys still with me, but now we’ve got to go.”

  “Where?” I whispered.

  “To the front,” he said. I knew that would be his answer. “We’ll be gone for a while. Until it’s over. And look, as soon as you get something to eat, you’ve got to get out of here too. Your group is in a château in Verdun, farther south; it’s much safer. I know you’re exhausted, but we’re getting strafed here all
the time. Can you drive tonight?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I can.” I was desperate for a shower or a few hours’ sleep. But it would be nicer to feel safe. The terror of being on the front had become a constant low buzz in my mind, echoing the sound of the planes roaring overhead.

  “Good,” he said. “Promise me you’ll go as soon as you can?”

  “I promise.”

  Peter looked around to see if anyone was watching and then grabbed both my hands.

  “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  I bit my lip and looked up at him.

  “I love you,” he said. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. When we met, I had just gotten back from Normandy. I was in a really dark place. You pulled me back out.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he lifted his hand.

  “Please just let me finish. I know you have to find Danny, and who knows what will happen from there, but as hard as it is for me, I understand. If I never see you again—”

  “Peter, wait—”

  “No, because it’s a real possibility; we both know it is,” he said. “If I never see you again, just know that I love you, Fiona. I probably always will. And I wish you a long, happy life.”

  “Peter . . .”

  I looked into his eyes wanting to say what I felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words out loud. So instead I stood on my toes, put my arms around his neck, and pulled him into a passionate kiss, not even caring who saw us.

  “I was in a dark place too; you helped me remember what it was like to feel happy,” I said when we stopped kissing for a moment. “But Danny . . . he’s always in the back of my mind. I’m committed to finding him. And I’m sorry . . .”

  “It’s okay,” he said, putting his hand under my chin and tilting my head up. “I understand. Like I said, he loved you first. Go find him and rescue him. And thank you. For rescuing me.”

  He put his arms around me and pulled me in, and we held on to each other in the freezing cold.

  “Please be safe,” I said, our foreheads still touching. “And for Christ’s sake, try to get through this war alive.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said. “And thank you for the kiss. It’s probably the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.”

  One last hug, a brief, final kiss good-bye, and he started walking away, backward, still looking at me. I stood there watching him, wiping my cheeks.

  “Remember, no tears,” he said, cupping his hands so I could hear him over the bitter wind that whipped around us. He blew me one last kiss, waved good-bye, and jogged off to round up his soldiers and head to the front.

  I stood there for a minute so I could compose myself before heading into the mess hall. When I walked in, Dottie was playing the guitar, and she and Joe were leading a large group of GIs in a very raucous version of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Viv was sitting nearby, watching and laughing, but when she saw the look on my face, she came over, putting her arm around my shoulders.

  “You okay, Fi?” she asked.

  “I have to be,” I said, letting out a breath. “Come on, let’s eat and run. It’s not safe for us here. We need to get back to the rest of the girls.”

  Dottie had said a tearful good-bye to Joe, once again. And we all thanked Hoffman and hugged him good-bye. The colonel was being tended to in the hospital, so we didn’t even get to see him before we left. When he was ready to travel, the three of them would be heading to somewhere near Bastogne to regroup with what was left of the Twenty-Eighth.

  An hour after dinner, we were gassed up and ready to go, but we sat waiting for a long time as there were important convoys coming through, and the army told us to hold off until they passed. Like everything in war, the trek to Verdun took longer than we expected, as the roads were packed with troops coming and going to the front, ambulances carrying the wounded, and vans of Nazi prisoners.

  When we pulled into the large château in Verdun, it was after 10:00 p.m. The sky was clear and star-filled, and the moon was almost full. All the Clubmobiles from Group F were parked outside, and it gave me an overwhelming feeling of coming to someplace like home.

  “Do you think anyone’s still awake?” Dottie asked. As we slowly opened the front door, we were met with subdued cheering and barking.

  “Barbara, you crazy little dog, I have missed you so much!” Dottie said, scooping up the ratty pup and hugging her tightly.

  “It’s a goddamn Christmas miracle!” Blanche said, teary-eyed as she and Frankie came running over and threw their arms around us, nearly knocking us to the floor with their hugs. To the right of the entryway was a large candlelit room with a roaring fireplace. Every girl from Group F was there, and a Christmas party was well underway. We were greeted with more hugs, surrounded by our friends, and I was overwhelmed with the relief and happiness of being safely back with them. There was a somber air to the group that I chalked up to everyone’s holiday homesickness.

  “Here.” Doris of the Dixie Queen came over and handed us glasses of a bright-yellow sparkling liquid. “No eggnog available, so we made this punch. It’s not particularly delicious, but it does the job.”

  “Quick trip to Vielsalm, huh?” Liz came over to us, her face grave, but then she broke into a smile. “I know why you did it. But I’m just so glad you three are back here safe, you have no idea.”

  “Me too,” I said. “And I’m sorry, I never would have gone had I known . . .”

  “Not even the general knew,” she said.

  “Frankie, I’m so glad you’re back. How are you feeling?” I asked.

  Frankie looked pale and thinner, with no sign of her usual high energy.

  “Well, I won’t be wearing a bathing suit anytime soon, but I’m . . . I’m doing okay. Happy to be out of that station hospital,” she said. Her eyes filled with tears as she took a deep breath and crossed her arms, and then she started to cry.

  “Oh, Frankie,” I went over to her and gave her a hug.

  “When does Martha get back from the London hospital?” Viv asked.

  Blanche and Frankie looked at each other with sad expressions. That’s when I noticed Blanche’s eyes were puffy, with dark circles under them. The entire room had gone quiet at the mention of Martha’s name. The despair on Liz’s face told me everything before anyone said a word.

  “Viv, Martha . . . she’s gone,” Blanche said, her face crumpling as she looked at us. “Her hands weren’t healing, and she needed more skin grafts. She was still at the station hospital, and they were getting ready to ship her back home to an American hospital for surgery. The station hospital was bombed. She was in the hall, talking to some soldiers. She was the only one who didn’t make it.”

  “Oh no. No, no, no!” Dottie put her hands up to her mouth, sank to the floor, and started sobbing as Barbara jumped onto her lap and tried to comfort her. Liz sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder.

  Viv cursed loudly and kicked one of the chairs as she put her hands over her face, her chest heaving as she cried.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, feeling sick, as I wiped away the tears running down my face and hugged Frankie again. “Martha? Our Martha gone? Are you sure?”

  “I had to identify her,” Liz said in a whisper, looking up at me and nodding, her complexion white.

  “We had a small ceremony. I’m so sorry we couldn’t wait for you,” Blanche said, shuddering as she took a breath. “It’s been an awful blow. I’ll forget for a little while, and then I’ll hear a song or see the packs of Life Savers—she loved her Life Savers so much—and then I’ll burst into tears all over again.”

  “And I wake up and think she’s going to walk through the door from the hospital any minute,” Frankie said, biting her lip. Now I knew why her eyes were so bloodshot. “And then I remember, and I just feel horribly guilty. I had just gotten out. If I had been there—”

  “But thank God you weren’t, Frankie,” I said. “Then we might have lost you too.”


  “Her poor family,” Dottie said, wiping her tears with a napkin.

  “We have their address. Everyone’s been writing them letters. Not sure if it helps much,” Frankie said.

  “I think it will,” Liz said. “And it will help all of us.”

  We all sat with this news for a while, sipping our punch and grieving for our sweet friend. It was devastating, and a shock to lose one of our own. To see our happy group of six forever reduced to five.

  Frankie got up and said, “I almost forgot. We have a surprise that will cheer all of us up a little. Our Christmas mail from home just showed up yesterday, including copies of LIFE magazine. Wait ’til—”

  “Shush,” Blanche said. “Don’t ruin the surprise. Hey, who has one of those LIFE magazines handy?”

  At the mention of the magazine, everyone started crowding around us, and I looked at Viv and Dottie frowning. ChiChi had tossed one to Blanche, and she had it behind her back.

  “Close your eyes,” Blanche said.

  “What is this about?” Viv said, frowning.

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, just close them, Viv,” Frankie said.

  We all closed our eyes, and then seconds later Blanche said, “Now open them.”

  I opened my eyes, and all the girls were watching our reactions. Blanche was holding a LIFE magazine in front of our faces. And our faces were looking back from the cover. An up-close picture of the three of us taken on the day of the ceremony with Harvey Gibson in London. The cover read, THE RED CROSS CLUBMOBILE GIRLS: BRINGING A BIT OF HOME TO THE TROOPS AT THE FRONT.

  “Holy cow, is that real?” Dottie said.

  “No way. You made this,” Viv said, grabbing it from Blanche. “It’s a practical joke.”

  “That’s a really big picture of our faces,” I said, wincing.

  “It’s real all right,” Blanche said, and a few other girls in the crowd held up their own copies, smiling. “You gals are now the famous faces of the Red Cross Clubmobilers.”

  “Harvey Gibson and Judith are absolutely thrilled at the publicity,” Liz said. “It’s been quite a hit in the States. Speaking of mail, I have to ask, were you able to preserve all of that Christmas mail?”