Phantoms in the Snow (12 page)

S
keeter was waiting for them when they returned. “We’re leaving, Shelley. Orders are to move to Virginia beginning of November.”

“Virginia?” James Shelley said.

Skeeter nodded. “I’ve heard we won’t be there long before we’ll be shipping out. Now that the Allies are in France and the Germans are fighting hard in Italy and Germany itself, they need every last man here to finally end this thing.”

Noah’s uncle turned to look at Noah. “Guess I knew this moment would come sometime, boy. Looks like we’ll be parting ways soon.”

Noah’s heart sank.

“When we first got here, I arranged for you to stay with one of these military families on base,” his uncle continued. “Guess we’d best be about introducing you to them tomorrow.”

“But where are you being sent?” Noah said. “Won’t they tell you?”

Skeeter shook his head. “We won’t know until we’re on board ship. They want to maintain secrecy as long as possible.”

“But what if they send you to Germany?” Noah asked, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

“Then we go to Germany, boy,” Noah’s uncle said. “We do as we’re ordered. You know that.”

Skeeter laughed. “Don’t worry about your uncle. His hide’s too tough to shoot through. And the Germans will give him back if they ever get him. They wouldn’t want him.”

Noah’s uncle guffawed. “See, Noah boy, nothing to worry about.”

Noah just nodded, but in that moment, he thought back to what his uncle had said to him just a few hours ago. His past was behind him, but the future of his uncle and others like him was now in the balance. Noah could no longer hide. He may not believe in fighting, but he did believe in family. It was time to face the mountain.

Noah walked in late the next morning to find his uncle and Skeeter waiting for him.

“Where have you been?” his uncle roared. “I thought I told you we had to go this morning to see those folks who agreed to take you. I got to get you settled before I ship outta here. I don’t need to be worrying about you right now.”

“Calm down, Shelley,” Noah said quietly.

“Calm down?” James Shelley roared. “Calm down? Who are you to tell me to calm down?”

“One of your boys,” Noah said. “I’m one of the boys who will be sailing with you to wherever.”

“What in Sam Hill are you talking about, Noah?” his uncle said, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

“I guess you forgot I’m sixteen, old enough to sign up,” Noah said. “I’m going with you, Shelley. I enlisted with the Phantoms.”

After the initial shock wore off, Noah’s uncle went crazy. “You need permission to sign up when you’re only sixteen! You haven’t got permission.”

Noah laughed. “Yes, I do. You already signed permission when we were at Camp Hale.”

“But I was lying,” his uncle fumed.

“But only the general and the boys in the division know that. Want me to tell the authorities
here
?” Noah asked. “Then maybe you’d be court-martialed and unable to go. We could both stay home.”

Noah’s uncle’s eyes bulged with anger.

Skeeter yanked Noah outside before his uncle really started shouting.

“I don’t see what he’s so worked up about,” Noah muttered, as Skeeter hurried him out of sight. “He did some crazy things when he was my age.”

Skeeter sighed. “He’s just scared, Noah. He doesn’t want you near the fighting.”

“I just want to be with him,” Noah protested.

“I know that’s what you want, Noah,” Skeeter said. “But your uncle loves you. He doesn’t want you hurt. He
knows
you only signed up to be with him. And the bottom line is this: You’ve only just turned sixteen, and you’ve been raised a pacifist. And while I’ll be the first to admit that you could hold your own with the best of us, you’re still a kid, a kid who doesn’t really understand the world yet and who doesn’t believe in war. You deserve to grow up a little more before you do something like this.”

“But I
am
grown up, Skeeter,” Noah argued. “I feel funny with the officers’ kids here. I belong with you guys and with my uncle.”

Skeeter smiled slightly. “Yeah, I bet you feel funny, Noah. You’ve grown up fast. But in a war, there’s more growing up to do. And nobody wants you growing up that fast.”

Noah didn’t say anything, but for a moment, he felt a twinge of doubt. Had he made a mistake by signing up?

Twelve weeks later, Noah stood looking at the SS
Argentina
as it lay in the harbor the day they were to set sail from Virginia to join the war effort. A chilly December wind blew off the water. Enlisting had seemed like the absolute right thing to do that distant morning in Texas. But now that the time had come for them to actually head for combat, Noah’s stomach felt odd and his mouth strangely dry.

The dress uniform he wore was scratchy and overstarched, and the patches they’d just received with a mountain and two
crossed rifles too stiff. They were no longer the 85th, 86th, and 87th. They had a brand-new name to go with their deployment — the Tenth Mountain Division. Noah had stood for a long time in front of the mirror when he had first put the uniform on this morning. The boy who had stared back at him looked calm and ready, a true soldier. Noah wished he felt as confident as he looked.

He gazed out at the ocean, wondering what he would find over there, wondering where they were going, wondering if he would even be alive at the end of this war to return to Texas or the mountains or anywhere else in the United States.

Two sailors walked up the gangplank, laughing and carrying canvas bags slung over their shoulders.

“Yeah,” one said, “we’re taking a bunch of skiers on board. Imagine that!”

“Skiers?” the other asked. “What division are they with?”

The first one shrugged. “Some group named the Tenth Mountain Division. But I hear people call them the Phantoms.”

“Phantom skiers, huh?” The other sailor laughed.

“Yeah.” The first sailor chuckled. “Sounds crazy to me, too, but I hear they’ve got some good poker players, so maybe the trip won’t be a total bust.”

The two sailors laughed again and headed onto the boat.

Noah watched them go, feeling even more uneasy. Not only was he sailing away toward war and battles, but he was sailing with a group of soldiers who were the laughingstock of the military. They were skiers. What
could
they do?

A hand landed on Noah’s shoulder. His uncle stood beside him. He hadn’t spoken much to Noah even after he calmed down about Noah’s enlisting. The rest of the unit and Skeeter and the general were with him. They all stood looking at the SS
Argentina.

“Well,” James Shelley finally said, “let’s load up and go to war.”

The boat was cramped, and Wiley and Cam were seasick from the beginning. Everyone was jittery, talking too much or not talking at all. Everyone wanted to know where they were headed and what their mission would be, but secrecy was still being maintained.

Noah didn’t say much, either. Although he felt fine, the closeness of the ship and the strangeness of actually leaving the United States for the first time in his life made the trip seem almost unreal to him. And while he liked watching the water crash into the boat as they made their way, he wished it were a pleasure voyage he was on and not one so fraught with danger.

After two days at sea, the intercom suddenly sprang to life, and the general’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Well, boys, it’s safe to tell you now. How many of you would like to know where this boat is headed?”

There was a sudden hush. Even Wiley and Cam sat up, color rushing to their white faces.

“Italy,” the general called out. “We’re going to Italy, boys! And we’re going after the Germans who have holed up in the Alps!”

Everyone went wild. There was clapping and cheering and
hooting and hollering. Wiley leaped from his bunk and swung Cam around, sending Cam to the head once more and making everyone laugh. Only Noah and his uncle stayed silent. And Noah wondered just what going after the Germans atop those Alps would mean to them both.

T
he loudspeaker on the boat was playing Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” when they entered the harbor at Naples, just two days before the holiday. The irony was not lost on Noah.

Wiley, Bill, Cam, Roger, and he had rushed to the deck when they first called out “land.” It had taken twelve days to cross the Atlantic, and each of them was ready to step back on solid ground. Noah was also anxious to get a glimpse of Italy. He had heard it was a beautiful country, with large stretches of olive trees, taverns where music poured out, and museums filled with great works of art. As they approached, Noah could see Mount Vesuvius looming in the distance. He knew that the volcano was still active and that it had once blown and buried the city of Pompeii. Now it just looked peaceful and lovely, rising majestically over Naples.

As they came into the harbor, Wiley let out a loud whistle.
The water was littered with sunken ships and the remains of destroyed bridges. Their boat had to navigate its way slowly through the port to avoid colliding with all the debris. Oil floated on the clear blue Mediterranean waters.

“Those Germans!” Roger spat out angrily.

“The Germans didn’t do this,” James Shelley said, coming up beside them. “We did.”

“Whatever for?” Bill asked.

“To get the Nazis
out
,” Noah’s uncle responded.

Noah stared around at the destruction. Was the fighting worth all this?

Noah and the boys followed his uncle and Skeeter off the ship when they reached the dock. Noah looked about him with wide-eyed wonder. The streets of Naples were the narrowest he had ever seen. They wound their way up from the harbor, light barely filtering its way between the four-story stone buildings. All around him, old men sat on benches talking to one another while old women leaned their elbows on their windowsills, shutters opened wide, and admonished them in Italian. Two-wheel horse-drawn carts vied with a few cars on the cobblestoned streets. A stone fountain in the middle of one of the squares sent up sprays of water. Girls walked by carrying large bundles of firewood and buckets of water, eyeing the soldiers. Several of the boys whistled at the girls, but Skeeter quickly silenced them with a look.

When they reached the center of the city, they were told to set their things down and wait. Noah stayed with Wiley, Olaf, and Bill while Skeeter, Daniel, and his uncle went on ahead with the
general into a building, which Skeeter said housed the American and British headquarters in Naples.

Noah threw his pack down and sat next to it, leaning against Wiley.

“Let’s see,” Bill said, opening a book on Italian. “
Grazie.
That’s Italian for thank you.”

“Grazie,”
Noah repeated.

“Buongiorno,”
said Bill. “That means good day.”

“Buongiorno,”
Noah repeated. He liked learning Italian.

“Gee,” Wiley said. “These Italians have a word for everything, don’t they?”

“What’d you expect, you idiot?” Bill asked.

Everyone laughed.

Two little girls ran up to the boys and stood staring at them. The girls were barefoot, even in the bitter cold of the December morning. They had a raw, hungry look to them.

Bill handed the girls an open can of beans from his rucksack. Within seconds, the two girls had devoured the food.

“Jeesh,” Cam whistled. “They sure are some hungry ones.”

“They are all hungry,” Olaf said to Noah and the other boys. “They are starving. The Germans have taken every bit of food from their mouths in order to feed their troops. It vas the same for us Norvegians just before I escaped.

“Look at the streets,” he continued. “Before the var, these streets vould be filled vith vendors in open markets selling all kinds of food. Now everyone just hopes to stay alive.”

Noah wondered how carts piled with food could even fit into these cobblestone streets.

“
Heil
Hitler!” Wiley made a mock salute.

The two girls still stood beside them, watching them with big brown eyes. They couldn’t have been more than seven years of age.

“Buongiorno,”
Noah said to them.

“Hi, GI,” one of the girls spoke up.

Everyone laughed again. Noah reached into his sack and pulled out a candy bar. He handed it to them and watched them split it in two and each eat their portion.

Quickly, the other boys began getting to their feet. Noah’s uncle, Skeeter, Daniel, and the general had returned.

“Okay, men,” James Shelley said. “Pick up your things. We’ve got our orders. We’re heading north. The trucks leave in an hour.”

“What’s our assignment?” Bill asked.

“We’ll be taking the trucks to Bagnoli and from there, a train to the Alps,” James Shelley explained. “The army wants us to push the Germans off the top of those mountains and back through the Po Valley. That valley is important.”

“Why?” Bill asked.

“It’s one of the few places that is still fertile enough to provide food for the German army,” the general said. “If we can get those Germans pushed out of there, their food supply will be cut off.”

Suddenly, there was the sound of screaming and wailing from up one of the alleyways. Two men with a stretcher between them were running down the uneven cobblestones, weaving back and forth. On the stretcher lay a man, moaning and groaning.

They ran past Noah, and he could see that the man’s legs were horribly twisted and that there was blood coming from his nose.
Behind the men came a woman dressed all in black, crying and wailing and holding her hands to her head.

“What the …,” Wiley began.

“Another partisan,” Daniel explained. “Italian freedom fighters. They risk their lives getting information about the Germans for our men. When German Field Marshal Kesselring catches them, he tortures them for days. Then he leaves them out in the snow among the mines so more partisans are blown up trying to rescue their comrade.”

Noah watched the man being carried down the street toward the hospital, his stomach churning.

“Welcome to war, Noah boy,” his uncle said.