A Pledge of Silence (7 page)

That night Frank knocked on Margie’s bedroom door. “You asleep?”

She put her letter aside. “No. Come on in.”

Frank glanced at the letter. “How’s Abe?”

“Cold. He’s complaining a lot.”

“Has he spotted any Germans?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. It’s all pretty hush-hush.”

“Margie, I, um … ”

Something in his voice made her take notice. Lanky and green-eyed, he resembled Uncle Leo, Mama’s brother, uncannily, Mama always said, and cocky too, like Leo. And probably a heartbreaker, Margie thought. The girls had been vying for his attention for a while. He was a freshman in college already.

“I’m thinking about joining the navy. I talked to a recruiter a couple of days ago.”

Margie’s brow furrowed. “Have you told Mama and Daddy? They’ll have to give their consent.”

“Not yet. I thought if you were there with me … ”

“What about college?”

“It’s their dream, not mine. I don’t want to sit in a classroom. I want to get involved. I want to see more of the world. Some of my friends already are. Eugene joined the army and is training in California, and Clyde’s on a ship sailing around the Cape.”

“Why the navy? You’ve never even been on a boat.”

“Men are needed. You’ve seen the recruiting posters.”

She had.
FIGHTING MEN NEEDED. Keep the world safe for democracy.

She said, “It’ll break Mama’s heart.”

“I know. Will you help me?”

Margie teetered between understanding his desire to escape a humdrum existence and feeling protective of the brother who wasn’t yet out of his teens. “It could be dangerous. Is there anything I can say to stop you?”

“No. I can take care of myself. I’ve made up my mind.”

She saw his determined look and heard fervor in his voice.
When did this kid grow up?
She said, “All right then.”

But it wasn’t meant to be. The navy doctor detected a heart murmur. Frank’s desire to see more of the world collapsed on itself when he received a letter of rejection.

Dad often read the newspaper aloud to anyone within listening distance. “It says here Roosevelt has approved purchases of hundreds of military aircraft and warships.” He put the paper down. “I heard the Ford plant is going on three shifts. They have a multi-million dollar contract from the government to build tanks.”

Margie said, “Myra’s daughter, Junie, got a job there. She’s an inspector on the line.”

Mama said, “In the factory? Since when do they hire women?”

“Since the men are being drafted; someone has to do the work. They’re hiring anyone who can pass the Civil Service exam. The pay’s good too. Junie’s making twice as much as she did working as a waitress.”

Mama’s hand went to her chest. “This awful war—our young women working in factories. Our young men being drafted. It’s too awful to even think about it.”

Mama’s worst nightmare became a reality in January 1941, with Margie’s call to active duty. As a 2nd Lieutenant in the Army Nursing Reserve, she received orders to report to Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington, D.C.

Mama said, “I feel so responsible.” She was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Margie pack her suitcase. Her voice sounded sad. “I had no idea that working for the Red Cross would lead to this.”

Margie saw the concerned look on her mother’s face. “You’re not responsible. Working at the Red Cross has nothing to do with it. I enrolled in the Nursing Reserve when I was still in school. Most of the class did, along with thousands of other nurses. I knew there was a chance the Reserves would be mobilized. I’m going to Washington. I’m excited about it. I’ll meet some new people and get to see more of the world.”

“The world’s a dangerous place right now.”

“I’ll be working at Walter Reed. I won’t be in any danger.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself, and you’re a capable girl.” She folded the nightgowns lying on the bed and put them into the suitcase. “The army could send you anywhere.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done, just like you taught me.” She reached for her mother’s hand. “Remember when I was naughty and you made me explain how I would improve my behavior? I hated doing that, you know.”

They laughed together.

“You were a bit of a pistol, my dear.”

“You taught me to be truthful and think critically about myself. You’re a wonderful mother, and I love you. I don’t want you to worry. When I come back, Abe and I will have bunches of grandbabies for you to spoil.”

“Know that I love you more than my own life.”

Margie didn’t blame her mother for being worried. She was apprehensive herself of all the unknowns ahead. Her enthusiasm far outweighed her trepidation, however, and she pushed any misgivings aside. At the train depot, with hugs and kisses and a last wave goodbye, she jauntily stepped onto the train and into a new life.

Chapter 7

Washington D.C. – Manila, January – June 1941

Margie crossed the threshold into a bigger world the minute she stepped through the doors of Walter Reed Hospital in Washington D.C. The immense 2,500-bed facility dwarfed her hometown hospital and stood five times larger than Grand Arbor. She learned she was to train as a nurse anesthetist.

In the nurses’ residence, she met her roommate, Helen Doyle, a round-faced obstetrical nurse who wore her hair in thick braids coiled around her head. With an American father and an English mother, Helen grew up traveling between the two countries, never sure which one to call home.

“It’s a leap, isn’t it, from obstetrics to anesthesiology?” Margie asked.

“A bit, but I heard anesthetists are in short supply, and obstetrics would be somewhat unnecessary in a field hospital, don’t you think?”

A field hospital? That possibility had never crossed Margie’s mind. “I’m not the field hospital type. I like a clean bed.”

“Not me. I want to be where the action is. I’m looking to get into the middle of it and help our boys.” Helen turned up the radio to hear what was happening in England. “It’s terrible, the bombing. London’s a shambles. I’m afraid for my mum and dad. They live right in the city.”

Margie spent long hours learning when and how to administer local, inhalation and intravenous anesthesia. She studied blood and blood derivatives, a topic she knew something about from setting up blood donor stations for the Red Cross. She became skilled at administering oxygen therapy and adept at recognizing, treating, and preventing shock.

A letter arrived from Abe. Flying reconnaissance missions over the North Atlantic for almost a year, he always complained about the sub-zero weather. He often said he felt lonely and bored by the routine. She pushed aside her textbooks and tore open the envelope.

Langley Field, Virginia

May 4, 1941

Dear Margie,

Haven’t written in a while. The mind-numbing boredom of the North Atlantic doesn’t lend itself to chatty letters. But I’m at Langley Field in Virginia for now. Good to be out of the bitter cold. The army brought me back as an operations officer for the 22
^nd
Pursuit Squadron. They’re developing equipment to detect submarines, a.k.a. the German U-boats, those devils that harass our supply convoys. My guys will be testing the equipment for them. I hope it takes a good long time. I’m not in any hurry to return to the deep-freeze.

I’ve written for a specific reason, Margie. I hope it doesn’t hurt you too badly. I want to break off our engagement—just for now. I’ve met a woman here, and I want to enjoy her company without feeling guilty. So many miles have separated you and me for so long a time. You have to be as lonesome as I am.

Betty is a pilot. I think you’d like her. She’s pretty, like you, only she has blond hair. We talk a lot and goof around—like you and I have always done, and I miss that so much. Please don’t be mad or sad. I don’t want to lose touch with you. We have so many good memories, and I hope we can still have a future together. I’ll keep writing. Please write back, okay? When we get home, we can pick up again. Know that you will always be the love of my life.

Truly yours,

Abe

Margie sat for a long while, holding the letter in her shaking hand. So many miles separated them? How far was Virginia from Washington—walking distance? Betty was a pilot? Margie would like her? Most certainly not!

She cried tears of hurt and anger. An empty spot opened inside her in the place Abe had always occupied. She ripped the engagement ring off her finger and tossed it in the drawer where she kept his letters. Impulsively, she threw the whole stack of them into the trashcan. Creep! The love of his life? While he’s chasing around? How could he? Changing her mind, she retrieved the letters and sat weeping until Helen came into the room.

“Are you okay, Margie?”

“No,” she sniffed. “I just got a Dear Jane letter. Seems Abe’s found a blond tart.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“How could he, Helen? We’ve been together since we were 16. I’ve never even been kissed by another man.” She blew her nose and blotted her tears. “We had all these plans, and he just tosses them away like,” she swirled her arm in the air, “like they mean nothing to him.” She hiccupped a sob. “Like I mean nothing to him. I never dreamed he’d do that.”

“I’m sorry, Margie. Maybe you can still get back together.”

“Don’t count on it,” she said, and the flood of tears started again with no indication they would stop anytime soon.

Margie felt dejected and weepy for a time, especially when certain love songs played on the radio. But when her training ended a few weeks later, Helen persuaded her to celebrate with their classmates, barhopping D.C.’s hot spots, crowded and lively with men in uniform.

The next morning, the chief nurse called the bleary-eyed graduates together. She wished them well and told them their orders were being processed and they must be ready to leave D.C. at a moment’s notice.

“Do you know where we’re being sent?” Margie asked.

“No. For security, that’s kept confidential. Finish any business you have here. I suggest you keep your bags packed.”

Their orders arrived soon after, and Margie and Helen hastily left Walter Reed for the D.C. train station. It teemed with khaki-clad men carrying oversized duffels and walking briskly in all directions. The girls grabbed coffee and a muffin from a vendor and hurried to Gate 6, where a sleek Transcontinental Limited waited. Walking through the dining car, a lounge and endless numbers of Pullmans, Helen said, “Holy Toledo! We must be in for a long ride.”

A two-day ride to San Francisco to be exact. Upon arriving, they checked into the Armand Hotel. Over the next few days they underwent the tedious business of processing, tramping from army office to depot to clinic, filling out forms, enduring physicals, blood typing and inoculations against yellow fever. They stood in endless lines, waiting to be issued clothing, field gear, and metal identification tags stamped with their name, rank and other relevant information. After a free day to shop and see the highlights of ’Frisco, they boarded the USS
Coolidge
with 2,000 exuberant soldiers and sailors. By that evening, they were sailing the Pacific Ocean.

Accustomed to the wide open fields of home, Margie found the warrens of tiny rooms in the ship’s hold claustrophobic. When she sought fresh air on deck, the blazing sun fried her light skin to blisters. Crossing the International Date Line, suddenly Tuesday became Wednesday.
What day is it?
she asked herself.
Where am I?

Her friend Ryan said, “We’re going to the Philippines.”

“How do you know? I don’t see anything but endless water and sky.”

“A gut feeling. I’ve got 20 bucks on it.”

Margie rolled her eyes. These men placed bets on anything and everything to break the long days of monotony. However, Ryan won this bet, and Margie cheered when she learned of her assignment to Sternberg General Hospital in Manila, not far from the Cavite Naval Base, where Evelyn worked.

“Lucky you,” Helen said, pouting out her lower lip, unhappy with her deployment to Camp John Hay, a mountainous army post and posh resort 170 miles north of Manila.

Standing on deck with Ryan, Margie curiously watched the sights as the
Coolidge
approached Luzon, the largest island in the Philippine archipelago.

“Manila Bay is the finest harbor in the Far East,” Ryan said. He pointed to a small island standing sentinel at its mouth. “That’s Corregidor. It’s so heavily fortified, it’s called the Gibraltar of the East. The country that controls Corregidor controls the harbor. See that ship docked over there?” He waved toward the shore. “It’s a mineplanter; this harbor’s full of mines.”

Volcanic peaks rose up on both sides of the bay. They were covered with the lush, tropical trees of the Philippine rainforest, including tall mahoganies, palms, strangler figs, and mangroves whose aerial roots made the trees appear to be growing on stilts. Wide sandy beaches connected the forests to the water’s edge. As the
Coolidge
crept farther into the harbor, Ryan pointed to a landmass on the left. “You’re looking at the Bataan Peninsula. I’ve heard the jungle there’s impenetrable.” Over on the right, the compact and crowded Cavite Naval Base occupied the finger-like projection of Sangley Point.

Continuing to play tour guide, Ryan identified other ships cramming the immense harbor. “That’s a destroyer. It’s fast and maneuverable. It’s used mostly as an escort ship. Over there’s a battleship. It carries the big guns.” He pointed out flat-decked aircraft carriers, hospital ships, and submarines. “Looks impressive, doesn’t it? Truth is, this fleet’s from the last war.” He shook his head.