“Do you have another idea for the spring document?” Carl asked. Dena looked closely. Sometimes it’s hard to know when Carl’s kidding. I believe it’s called dry humor. Stuart will probably keep everyone in suspense for a couple of months.
“Hello everyone,” Floyd said as he and Martin stood behind Emily, who evidently came in at the same time. Emily was delighted. “What have we missed?”
“Oh, just the public humiliation of Stuart,” Carl said drawling out the detailed scenario before adding, “Now Stuart is getting even by not telling us about his next project.”
Dena was surprised that Carl assumed Stuart was so
heartless. Stuart’s polite smile was his way to keep everyone wondering.
“Say, did you hear that Jack enlisted in the Marines over the holidays?” Floyd asked, pulling out a chair so he could sit next to Emily.
“No! You’re kidding aren’t you? Clay’s clipped reply came out loudly. He leaned back in his chair taking a deep breath. Dena wanted to know too. She leaned forward resting her chin on her folded hands, waiting.
“No. I heard it down at one of the garages last week,” Floyd said. “I asked the same question of Powers. Remember him … the one who is working along with several others on some new updated airfoils?” Clay and Carl nodded.
“I thought he and Marta were getting married this spring,” Mary said. Dena’s eyes widened again I didn’t know that Jack and Marta had planned to marry so early.
“The rumor is Marta married someone else over the holidays. In her words,” Carl mimicked, “It will further my acting career. I can always marry for love another time.” Dena and Emily were speechless.
“Wow.” Emily whispered, echoing what everyone was thinking.
That’s all wrong. Marta’s rash decision probably has ruined three lives. Why, I hope everybody here, including me, is smarter than that. Dena sat twisting at her coat lining, something she hadn’t done since she was in grade school.
“What time is your first class tomorrow, Clay?” Martin asked, changing the subject. Dena admired his ability to know what to say and when to say it like Carl and Stuart.
“Eight I’m in the same building as you,” Clay said, turning to Dena. “My lab is from eight to noon.”
“Am I seeing a pattern here?” Carl chuckled, slapping Clay on the back. “Maybe lunch together on Mondays?”
Grinning, Clay turned a little red thinking that Dena could share lunch with him on Mondays. Of course, the whole group would be there. But she smiled sweetly at Clay, letting him know it was okay.
“It may be the day of the week we all can get together,” Clay said, defending his motives.
“Carl, are you going back to Virginia with Dad? I believe he leaves at the end of the month.” Stuart moved the discussion in another direction. Dena studied Carl’s face. She had wondered about that too.
“No, I’m not going until I finish my thesis and get my diploma,” Carl answered, glancing at Clay. “Professor Miles has been after me to get this done so I’ll be a candidate for promotion in the future—you know, all that technical stuff. Besides I’m working as a teacher’s assistant in the aerodynamics lab. It helps pay the rent. And you know what, I just might want to visit with Powers and see how they are coming along.”
Clay agreed. Carl hasn’t graduated? Dena thought this over. She assumed he had. I wonder why he hasn’t graduated. Who is Powers? What’s an airfoil? I must look it up in my aeronautics book. I believe there’s a chapter on airfoils.
“Guess we should head home. Are you coming, Dena?” Stuart asked. Mary and Emily stood. She nodded. Clay jumped up, and helped her with her coat. She smiled. Stuart grinned, showing his approval.
“Talk to you later,” Clay murmured softly. Dena nodded, picking up her purse. Leaving, she heard Clay ask about the status on the airfoils. He had already dismissed her.
***
“Hello you three.” Uncle Walter was sorting through the mail as they walked in. His voice faltered; a frown creased his face.
“What is it, Dad?” Stuart glanced over his dad’s shoulder, scanning the envelope. “Is it a letter from Bill? Gosh, we haven’t heard from him since November.”
Uncle Walter nodded. He went through the door to the kitchen looking for Doreen. They followed wanting to hear what
Bill had to say.
“We have a letter from Bill, dear,” Uncle Walter said carefully. “Shall I read it?”
Aunt Doreen nodded. She was sitting at the small table in the kitchen where Uncle Walter eased into the chair across from her.
***
January, 1940
Dear Uncle Walter and everyone,
Your Christmas present reached me in fine form. Thanks for the same. I shared the treats with all in the barracks. Thanks from them too. This thing of living in tent-like huts they have us in now in this kind of weather (monsoon) is the “bunk.” But there’s nothing I can do about it. I hear we are moving back on the base in Shanghai next week for a while. Well, I sure hope so. In just eleven more years, which isn’t so long, I could have a nice little place to stay on my pension. As it is, you know I’ve completely given up all hope of ever getting married. I guess it just simply isn’t in the cards.
And by the way, Uncle Walter, I think I’m somewhat biased when it comes to women. Aunt Doreen's the best. I guess that’s my problem. I would never be concerned about a person who didn’t worry about me, and as you know, there are a million fish in the sea that have never been caught.
Oh yes, about my Japs. Well, Uncle Walter, I don’t know just what you’ll think of me if I tell you this, but I certainly did fall in with some of them in Tsingtao and Shanghai, especially with one certain little beauty in Tsingtao by the name of Kiyoko Nagai. And then after losing track of her, I met another one in a Sukiyaki cafe, who I took to in place of Kiyoko. Her name is Hisako Mori. She isn’t as nice as Kiyoko, however. I had a kimono made for Aunt Mary and Mother. Aunt Mary is very happy with a genuine Japanese kimono. I had two little Japs make one for me and another, which I gave or sent rather to Mother by request of a little old Jap lady that’s nice to everybody she likes. She helped me to find some fine rice parchment drawings that I’ll bring home to you when I’m shipped back to the good ole US of A.
Are you going back to Virginia or stay at Stanford? What kind of work are you doing, or is that also top secret? I rather think that Aunt Doreen wishes you would stay put. I hope this letter finds you both in better spirits because of you being home for the holidays. Remember what I said about letting a little thing like work stand in the way.
As ever, your “almost returned” Asiatic nephew,
Bill
***
“He does sound good, don’t you think?” Aunt Doreen’s voice quivered. “I hate it that he’s staying in a tent when it’s raining so. But I’m glad he’s out of all that bombing. We’ll send him another care package with some dry things such as socks and underwear. Walter, what is it?”
Uncle Walter frowned. Dena wondered if he knew something he wasn’t saying. Dena watched him as he turned over another letter, inspecting it closely.
“Here’s a letter from Phyllis and Tom.” Uncle Walter tore open the end and pulled out one sheet.
“My goodness,” Aunt Doreen remarked, “we haven’t heard from them in a while. How long has it been, Walter?”
“Mmm, I’m not sure. Did we hear from them last Christmas?” Uncle Walter looked up at Aunt Doreen, waiting for an answer. He opened the folded sheet and scanned the page before reading it out loud.
***
January, 1940
Dear Walter and Doreen,
Happy New Year! Thanks a lot for the nice stockings and chocolates. Tom enjoyed his gift too. I wonder how you knew what we needed. My last pair of stockings had a hole. I hope you both had a nice Christmas.
We had several family members from both sides here to share a twenty-two-
pound turkey. I th
ought I would never see the last of it, but it’s gone now. I enjoyed my visit in California last year. It was a hard trip, but I’m feeling better now. Everyone on my side of the family looked better. I haven’t heard from Bill lately, but it's about time for him to come home. I’ll be glad when he’s done over in that awful place. He sent me a lovely kimono for Christmas. Tom received Jap cigarettes. He won’t touch them. Says they’re Jap cigarettes. Well I must close for now. I’ll write more at a later time.
Tom and Phyllis
***
“You know I think I’ll stop and see them on my way to Virginia,” Uncle Walter announced, while replacing the letter into the envelope. “They live up around Kansas City, don’t they?” He looked at his wife. She nodded.
Dena didn’t think she knew this aunt and uncle. She wondered if they had come to Grandpa’s funeral. As she watched Stuart and Emily leave, she followed. About half way up the stairwell, Dena stopped and watched as Uncle Walter sat down beside Aunt Doreen and cradled her in his arms. Dena didn’t mean to spy on them. It was just that she couldn’t pull herself from the tender moment.
“Dena.” Emily knocked lightly then opened the door. Emily looked as if she could cry. Dena put her arm around her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
“I heard today that Julia—you know the nurse who came to Thanksgiving dinner with Mary? Well, she has been sent to Hawaii. And, Monique, the other girl who worked as a secretary for some lawyer? She enlisted and also was sent to Hawaii.”
“Wow.” Then, hoping to break the somber mood, Dena spat out, “I wonder if they have a special spot for married actresses.”
“Actresses?” Emily questioned warily. She turned and looked Dena directly in the eyes. She wanted to make sure Dena
had really said that.
“As in … M-a-r-t-a,” Dena answered mischievously, desperately trying to keep a straight face.
“What a funny thing to say,” Emily snickered, “but it’s so true.” Then she also laughed. Dena joined her. Stuart walked in without knocking and said, “What’s so hilarious?”
“It’s a circumstantial thing, Stuart, not good the second time around,” Dena said between chuckles.
“Try me.”
“Well …” Dena and Emily tried to explain the image of Marta in Hawaiian jungle boots dodging bullets. Their words came out jumbled and incoherent. Stuart gave up trying to understand the joke and left. Yet he had a pretty good idea what they were saying. And he agreed that it was funny.
***
Saturday, February 3, 1940, Dena waited until her Uncle Walter hugged her. Then she ran back to the car. At least now she was out of the wind. Dena watched as Emily and Stuart said their good-byes and hastened to the car.
“I don’t think it could get any colder than it is this morning.” Dena said. She then turned to her cousin and asked, “Stuart, where’s Kansas City located?”
“It’s on the Missouri River. There’s a Kansas City, Missouri and a Kansas City, Kansas for the town has grown up on both sides of the river,” Stuart explained. She still didn’t understand where it was. That’s why I’m studying drafting: numbers, scales, and lines.
Aunt Doreen remained on the platform with Uncle Walter. He sheltered her from the wind with his overcoat. In the six months Dena had been here, she saw the breach in their marriage had healed just like Mother predicted.
“See you soon, Walter,” Aunt Doreen whispered in his ear. Uncle Walter rushed to the coach car as the whistle blew. But
Aunt Doreen stood planted—wind whipping her coat tail. Stuart
pulled up his collar and yanked his hat down before hurrying to his mother’s side. They both waved at Uncle Walter looking out the window. Stuart guided his mother to the car. Emily blew her nose while her mother trembled nervously. Dena bit her lips so not to cry. A tear ran down her cheek. I wish Uncle Walter could stay, but I know how important his work is for our country.
By what Uncle Walter had told them, Dena knew he needed to go. That he had waited as long as he could. She knew how intriguing aeronautics was. Every class offered fathoms of information, puzzles, and mysteries. She enjoyed drafting. In fact, she was really good at it. But aeronautics challenged her. Dena could hardly tear herself from the classroom and couldn’t wait to do her homework. I wish I had told Uncle Walter that I understand his passion for his work.
Stuart eased the car into the traffic. He’s a good driver. Dena had driven very little. She just had no need for it. She stared out the window watching her breath fog the glass. When she was a kid she always liked writing her name in the fogged area. As the tires hummed down the highway, Dena’s thoughts returned to her favorite subjects—Clay and her college classes, in that order. I haven’t seen Clay or Carl, for a couple of weeks. Carl’s most likely working on his thesis and probably spending a lot of time in the engineering section of the library. And he’s teaching a lab. But Clay has just disappeared. She had looked for him the last two Mondays at the cafeteria, but he hadn’t shown. Maybe next week, she hoped.
***
Stopping at the cafeteria door, Dena brightened seeing Clay sitting at the table with several other engineers. He barely noticed her, mumbling a greeting when she slipped in beside him. He looked tired.
“Jules and Abe enlisted in the navy last week so they could fly,” Carl flatly stated.
“Are you sure they joined the Navy?” Clay asked. Carl nodded. Stunned, Dena stared. She leaned forward. She couldn't
believe Jules and Abe would even consider such a thing. They would be in war, and flirting with death. They had always talked against war. I wonder what changed their minds.
“Are you sure they joined the Navy?” Clay questioned a second time.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Carl answered, nodding. “I heard it directly from Abe. He came in to pick up his engineering gear.”
“Are they stupid? Landing airplanes on a carrier ship is dangerous. No. It’s worse. It’s suicidal. Most planes crash and burn. No way to stop them on such a small runway,” Clay growled. Dena shuddered at the vivid picture. She knew Clay wanted to fly. But first he wanted to finish his education. He and
Carl talked hours on the what, how and why of building airplanes. He had once told her Carl wanted to build airplanes, but he wanted to both build and fly.
“Who crashed and burned?” queried Stuart. He had overheard the end of Clay’s outburst. Mary and Emily had followed him. Emily causally glanced around the group, scowling.
“Has anyone seen Floyd or Martin?” Emily looked directly at Carl. He shook his head. Emily sat down by Dena, leaving the next two seats for Mary and Stuart.
“Flying is relatively safe,” Clay continued in a quieter tone. “Look at Howard Hughes. He has proved that. He set a record in 1938 when he made a nonstop trip around the world in three days flying the Lockheed 14.”
“Three days, nineteen hours, and seventeen minutes.” Floyd said as he plopped down in a chair across from Emily. “He broke all records and others will have a hard time breaking his. Are we talking about Jules and Abe?”
Dena watched Martin move around the table to an empty chair next to Clay. Silence followed. All of a sudden, Psalm 139:23 popped into her mind. Search me, O God, and know my heart, try me and know my thoughts. Dena squirmed uneasily. Oh my. This has never happened before— what’s the meaning? What am I supposed to do? Maybe she was supposed to be more open to what others were saying. After all, several of her friends and acquaintances were soldiers or related to soldiers. I’ll think more about it later.
“You know, if they really wanted to fly, they could go to Britain. The Royal Air Force is training men to fight the Germans right now,” Clay cut in. “At least they wouldn’t be landing on carrier ships.”
“They still can die,” Floyd said, scowling.
Dena breathed deeply and let it out slowly How can I keep as open mind when I don’t understand the fascination of war and as hard as I try I
can’t see the thrill guys see in war?. I hope that I never have to experience war directly.
“Come on, Floyd.” Clay’s chin jutted forward firmly. His whole demeanor stiffened. “What’s wrong with RAF other than it’s across the ocean?”
“Dena.” Emily faced her and spoke in a low voice. Dena leaned over. “Do you remember Winnie Whaymeier? She came to the dance with Abe?”
Dena nodded slowly.
“Well she and two other girls joined the WACs and are being deployed next week.” Emily sat still. Her face paled.
“What’s WACs?” Dena asked just above a whisper.
“Women’s Army Corps. Dena, this whole situation frightens me.”
Dena nodded a second time. She couldn’t think. Somewhere across the room someone was playing “Blueberry Hill.” She listened for a moment. The tune was relaxing.
“Have you followed the news on the giant cyclotron being built at the University of California? It’s the one for producing mesotrons from atomic nuclei,” Floyd changed the subject. “I know it’s not in our field, but it’s something I feel we should monitor. Why, if the wrong people get the blueprints, the United States could be in big trouble.”
What? Dena jolted back to the conversation and looked around the table at the different expressions. What have I missed?
“Aw, I don’t think we need to worry about it, Floyd,” Carl
said, lowering the strain around the table, his face exhibiting a false smile. “The good old U.S. of A. has everything under control.”
“Like the Yankees?” Martin added. Stuart looked intently at Martin as did Dena and just about everyone else at the table. Then collectively laughter prevailed, overriding building stress.
“Something that’s newsworthy is the developing of Penicillin as a practical antibiotic,” Martin continued. Dena hadn’t heard anything about that either. “If, and I said if we should go to war, having a good antibiotic would be an asset.”