TDTLBU Chapter Forty

While her brother fought for his life in the deserts of North Africa and her sister fought for others' lives in a hospital tent in Morocco, Katie was dancing for her life at an Army embarkment camp in New York. The dance was being held in a screened-in mess hall, with rickety tables pushed out of the way against the walls and an overabundance of mosquitoes having a heyday whilst preying on the dancers. Sticky warm air filtered in through the screens and a stifling heat pervaded the room. It was simply too much… countless couples crowded into the packed hall, jostling against each other as they swung to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. 

Katie clung desperately to the arm of a tall private, moving in all sorts of not-so-graceful ways as she attempted to keep her dancing slippers from being crushed beneath his heavy army boots. He was an abominably clumsy dancer, in spite of an athletic physique. He lumbered around the dancing floor as though he were tromping through knee-deep grass on the prairie. Poor boy, he was nervous too. Katie could read him as easily as a book… his face was redder than a fourth of July firecracker and thin trails of perspiration were slowly making their way down his cheeks. His big hand, closed around her own, trembled slightly. He had avoided her eyes all through the dance, keeping his gaze focused on the floor. It was a wonder, she thought, what with his attention to the floor that he still stomped on her feet. 

She hid a sigh of relief behind a yawn as the last notes of the song floated away. The couples broke up for a moment, roaming over the dance floor as the room filled with chattered conversations that became an indistinguishable roar. The soldier boy stepped away from Katie, dropping her hand almost regretfully as he raised his eyes at last to her face.

"Mind if I… ask for… another dance, Miss?"

She was surprised he had asked. After his obvious terror at dancing with her,she assumed he'd be sitting on the sidelines for the rest of the evening. Katie groaned inwardly as her instructions ran through her head for the hundredth time.

Never refuse a request for a dance.

She smiled up at him, stalling for time, wondering if there could possibly be any way to get out of this artfully.

"It's rather stuffy in here, don't you think?" She faltered. "Would you rather walk… out on the path around the hall?"

He grinned eagerly and nodded.

"Sure would, Miss."

"Katie," she grinned back, accepting his arm as he offered it to her. They slipped out into the humid night, where at least a dozen other couples were already strolling. Katie glanced toward a towering oak tree, beneath which she could barely make out the dark forms of a soldier and his girl embracing. It was Norma and her Will, she knew. Norma had told her she would be slipping out that night. They weren't allowed to have relationships with the soldiers, but in the case of Norma and Will, as with many others, love had found a way to slip through the cracks. Will would be leaving for overseas in a couple of days and Norma was both heartbroken and fiercely proud. She hadn't said much in the past few days since learning about Will's deportation date, but her tear-stained eyes, the rosy flush on her cheeks,and the ring on her finger spoke for her.

"Sure is a purty night," the young soldier's voice jerked Katie's thoughts back to the present. The faint drawl with which he spoke betrayed his southern background.

"Mmm" she murmured in agreement, raising her face to catch the tiny whisper of a breeze. 

"You got someone overseas?" He added, by awkward way of making conversation, as he nodded toward the red, white, and blue ribbon pinned over her heart. They all said the same things. Katie had her answers memorized. They came automatically by now.

"My brother is in North Africa," she answered vaguely.

"In the army?"

"Yes. First sergeant, with the 225th." She paused. There was no denying his curious glance toward the black sash tied around her right arm. He was too polite to mention it himself, so she did it for him.

"My fiance was killed in Guadalcanal." She stated it plainly, pride and sorrow lingering together in her voice. She didn't try to keep it to herself, this terrible tragedy in her young life. Rather she told it boldly, holding her head high in the memory that he had loved her. And that he had given his life for such a noble cause.

"I… I'm sorry," the soldier stammered, lapsing into silence for a moment. Then he added in a low voice, as if an afterthought,

"My brother died in Tunisia." 

The audible heartbreak in his quiet words was very clear to Katie. She instinctively felt his suffering and linked it to her own. Wordlessly she reached out to him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. His eyes met hers briefly, reading the sympathy and understanding there, and he smiled.

"Maybe we'd better go in," Katie broke the silence at last, letting her hand drop as the song in the hall stopped and the dancers dispersed once again. "They'll be wanting me to sing about now."

"And that is something I don't wanna miss," he grinned at her. "Name's Charlie, by the way. Glad t'meet ya… and thanks for… dancing with me."

"Anytime, soldier," Katie squeezed his hand and hurried off, pushing her way through the crowd to make it to the front of the room. Her timing was perfect, as usual. They were only just announcing her song. She slipped behind the microphone, painfully conscious of the countless pairs of eyes trained on her. She fidgeted a moment with the sash of her pale green dress, glancing towards the band behind her. Her palms were sweaty and she hated that. With a deep breath and a mental steeling of herself for the ordeal, she plastered a brilliant and unnatural smile on her face and nodded grandly towards the band.

"We'll meet again, don't know where, Don't know when…" as she sang on, couples swaying slowly to her voice, she allowed her thoughts to wander again. Back to the last letter Ronnie had sent her, full of news of Josh's latest escapades, often involving the Scottish soldier, Mac, or the freckled one, whatever his name was. Ronnie hardly ever said a word about himself. And lately his letters had been oddly vague and cheerful. Almost too cheerful. She wondered where under the starry sky that night could he be? And was he alright?

✯✯✯

Ronnie dropped to the ground as the man in front of him went down. Keeping a finger on the trigger of his rifle as he held it awkwardly in one arm, he crawled forward until he reached the wounded man in front of him. Bullets were whistling past his ears and somewhere up ahead of him, filtering through the sounds of combat, Mac's voice was booming out the words to "Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition!" The wounded soldier already had the glassy stare of death on his face as blood oozed from a wound in his shoulder, but he was still breathing. 

“Medic!” Ronnie screamed as he pressed his hand over the man’s wound. “You’re gonna be okay sir, we’ll get you out of here. Medic!”

The soldier shook his head, weakly. He attempted a smile as he gasped for breath, reaching up to grip Ronnie’s hand.

“Be… be strong, soldier,” he choked. “We will… we will win this war.”

Ronnie grit his teeth as he felt the man’s grip on his hand weaken. He pulled away, closing the man’s eyes and going through his pockets. He took a crumpled envelope from the soldier’s jacket and glanced at it, briefly.

“In case of my death, send to Lily Stone, 685 Keppler Road, New Hope, Pennsylvania, USA.”

“New Hope, eh?” he grinned bitterly as he stuffed the envelope into his own pocket and moved forward towards his unit. But the man’s words echoed in his mind and somehow… somehow they did give him new hope.

“Be strong, soldier. We will win this war.”

✯✯✯

It was dark. Pitch black and even the stars were blotted out. The smoke of battle had hidden God's sky and it made the battlefield more desolate than ever before.

It was a time to think. And Josh, where he huddled alone in a foxhole somewhere in the wilderness of Italy, was doing plenty of thinking. It was silent now and all around him, he knew his comrades were hiding. But he felt more alone than he ever had in his life. Completely and utterly alone. And because of that... he let himself cry.

The First Division had at long last been withdrawn from North Africa once Tunisia had been secured. They were in Italy now, pushing towards Sicily, and there was no end in sight. The past few weeks had marked the worst conflict they had seen yet. Just the day before, Josh had met up with an old friend on the field... A friend he hadn't seen in years. A boy he had known a lifetime ago, when he lived at the Children's Home in Cincinnati. They had barely enough time to recognize each other and suddenly... the other boy was dead. The noise on the battlefield had been overwhelming and so Josh screamed aloud in desperation... And no one had even heard.

He tried to bring back memories of home... The pictures that had always comforted him before in the darkest times. Mom pulling steaming apple pie out of the oven. Dad driving the rickety old tractor out to the field. Emma on the tire swing with her ever-present book and Katie with her hands full of wildflowers. He and Ronnie and Jerry walking down the dirt road toward the pond, shouldering fishing rods and dragging along an over-loaded picnic basket. But the memories no longer were enough. He needed to be home again with them... To feel the summer breezes blowing through the trees of the apple orchard and to see the sun shining on the hayfields. He longed to see them again... Any of them. Mom and Dad... And especially Emma. 

Man, he wanted to see her again. He thought about her every moment he was awake, and when he was asleep, he dreamed of her. He even wondered sometimes what it would be like to kiss her. He grinned wryly at the thought. He had kissed a girl once... at a USO dance... just to see what it was like. She had slapped him so hard his ears were ringing for an hour afterwards. Well, it hadn't been a good kiss anyway. Although if he tried that on Emma, she was likely to slap him even harder. 

He had written to her over and over in the past few months, telling her... Everything. Some of the letters he sent and many he simply fed to the fire. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to know the darkness that was creeping over his soul. He had tried to pray and somehow... He never could. So he gave up trying. But he could feel her prayers... And the thought of her praying for him only made the tears fall harder. 

If you only knew how bad it is out here...

But such thoughts were crazy. He knew that she understood. She was experiencing it all first hand as wounded and broken men were carried off the battlefield and into the hospital tents. And the words of comfort and encouragement she sent him bore only further proof. 

"If I could pray," he whispered aloud. "I'd thank God for you. And then I'd beg Him to let me see you... At least one more time."

Distant explosions rocked the horizon before settling again into silence. Josh didn't even react. He was steeled to the constant sound of combat and it no longer startled him. He leaned against the rough-hewn dirt wall of his foxhole, bracing his feet against the opposite wall, and stared at his boots in the darkness. He hated this. Hated being alone. Hated sitting by himself in a hole in the ground. Hated being used to the noise and sights of battle. Hated himself for being here and... hated himself for running from God.