AFTER STARTING ANEW
Chapter Forty
March 17th, 1942
Patrick’s birthday. Our youngest turned
sixteen today. My poor child, who has resisted every stage of his growing up,
is almost an adult. I worry when I watch how he studies with great interest
each battle, each type of plane. He went and bought an aircraft identification
book with his birthday money. This war has become his passion. Though there is
hardly any chance of enemy planes flying this far into the country, I suppose I
have to admire his patriotic spirit. I only hope that it is over before he
turns eighteen. We had a little party for him, though it seemed strange with so
few family members there. Frank and Marjorie and little Robert came. The other
children called or sent cards. Jack and I also asked Emil and Laura Larson from
church and our other friends, the Prentices, from Loveland. The Larson boy is a
year older than Patrick and feeds Patrick’s imagination with talk of enlisting
in ten months. Jack and I had some time alone awhile ago. He is downstairs now
walking the dog and locking up. We both looked at each other and wondered just
how the course of our lives has changed. Starting from scratch, we now have
more than we want and live in a house three times the size of our first home.
Sometimes it just doesn’t seem possible how the tiny turns in life have such
enormous effects. A poker game, a kitten. Oh well, it is what it is and I know
that Mother and Arthur would want us to be happy.
April 24th, 1942
My God, I can’t believe this is happening.
Selective service registration for men from 45 years of age to 65! My Jack
could have to go again. If that happens I don’t really know if I will have the
strength to go on. How much can a person take? And then I read the papers and
think, a great deal. A few days ago and with the odds against them, Doolittle
led a squadron of bombers on a raid over Tokyo. They didn’t do much damage, but
I think the enemy knows we are not asleep. How the families of those men must
feel! We now have a service star in our front window. Frank is officially in
the Army. He left for his basic training in Texas three days ago. Marjorie came
for coffee after she took him to the station. She told me that she knew that I
would say the right things, having gone through this with Jack. We talked for
awhile and decided that to save money and help the housing shortage, she and
the baby will move in here and she can have a little extra income from renting
out their house. We certainly have plenty of room. And I welcome the presence
of my grandson, Robert. At least we will have a bit of liveliness around here.
May 4th, 1942
Our 30th wedding anniversary. How far we have
come in all those years. We had been through one tragedy, had yet another to
face with WWI and now here we are again. This time fighting for the freedom of the
world. I managed to get a nice roast from Mr. Keller, the butcher. I roasted it
slowly all afternoon so the smell permeated the house. Everything was ready
when Jack came home. It’s taken me almost 30 years, but finally I can put a
decent meal on the table. When I look back on some of my cooking disasters, it
is a wonder my children grew as well as they did. We had our dinner on the
terrace. I set the table and got everything ready myself. The younger
generation of the Lopez family sort of came with the house and neither Jack nor
I have the nerve to cast them out of their jobs. The money is there and this
seems to be their place as much as ours. Besides, sometimes when Maria comes
around, she is one of the few people I can talk to about Mother. Anyway, now
with the war work and extra things that must be done, it is very helpful to
have extra hands, plus someone to talk to as these long days of uncertainty
stretch ahead. It turned out to be a very romantic night. Even after thirty
years the powers of Mr. Jack Dawson hold me captive…
June 3rd, 1942
Frank is home on leave before taking up his
duties. We decided to give he and Marjorie some time alone and so Jack and I
headed up to Estes Park for the weekend. It’s still a bit chilly up here, but
the wildflowers are blazing with color and in the peace of the mountains, it is
quite possible to forget there is a war raging all over the world. Jack and I
took a long walk this morning and he told me that he had been for his physical
for this Selective Service business. Mercifully, he was rejected. The effects
of the gas attack while not noticeable in day to day life, would make
themselves known in the vigor of combat. So at least I don’t have to worry
about him now. I was so relieved that I cried in his arms for a long time.
There was only the sound of the rushing creek and the rustling of the new aspen
leaves. And the thundering relief of my heartbeat.
June 15th, 1942
Frank is not going into combat. With one more
physical before leaving, the doctors heard an unusual sound in his lungs and
after an x-ray decided that he would be a poor candidate after all his early
problems with asthma. I could almost fall to the ground in thanks. He is going
to be stationed back in Texas on an airfield as an instructor for something he
was not allowed to tell us. I don’t care what he does, as long as he stays
safe. Now I feel totally relieved. Jack and Frank are out of it. Edy and Nils
are safe in Washington, Cora and Matthew have their jobs in Warm Springs where
they are developing programs for recovering soldiers. Molly is doing lots of
overtime due to the nursing shortage. She writes that each day the Army and
Navy recruiters are knocking on the door of the hospital. What she is doing she
calls home front nursing. After all someone has to stay and look after the
civilian population. She calls it awfully important work. I am thrilled that
she feels so committed to that. Thrilled and also relieved.
August 20th, 1942
The bombing continues over Europe. I can’t
imagine how anything can be left. In the Pacific advances are made every day by
the enemy as they slowly try to gain ground towards the US. Every once in while
there are snippets of news about enemy subs off the coasts. I suppose they are
true, but still almost unimaginable. Now the towns and cities in the West and
East are blacking out at night. There are volunteer air raids wardens.
Personally, I think some of them are power hungry and love an excuse to harass
the average citizen. Another way to vent their frustration, I suppose. Jack
came home today to announce that he had been appointed to the local ration
board. So far things are not in full swing, but he told me in confidentiality
that by the year’s end we could expect shortages in meat, gasoline, and rubber.
He is also worried that there will be problems with Black Market goods. He does
not want to be in the position of having to turn anyone in and yet, I can’t see
him turning a blind eye either. Now I almost wish that he weren’t involved at
all.
September 22nd, 1942
Had a nice long letter from Edy today. She
and Nils and the babies are doing well. Mary is a very good baby and Ginny, her
older sister, tried to "help" Edy with her. Edy has quit teaching and
now is busy organizing relief funds for the war torn countries. This way, she
can work from home, having her meetings in the afternoons when the girls are
asleep. Nils continues to do research, but even she does not know what he is
doing these days. The government has clamped down on everything. I enjoy my
days with baby Robert. Marjorie is still working, teaching at Jack’s school. We
have a nice plan now. I watch the baby during the day and in the afternoons, I
head out to the train station and work for three hours at the canteen. It is
such rewarding work. The young men and women are so appreciative. What a burden
has been placed on their generation.
October 30th, 1942
Had a letter from Molly today. My heart sank
as I read it.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Well, I’ve made a big decision. I am
leaving here on Friday to join the Army Nurse Corps. Those recruiters really
know how to make a sale and finally got under my skin. Gosh, can you imagine
them letting nurses go right behind the armies in combat zones? This is for me…
I sat with the letter in my lap, staring out
the window. Jack brought me a cup of coffee and we sat there in silence. I knew
he always expected that one of his sons would go to war, but not his daughter.
He reached out and held my hand. Then it was time to go to work. He smiled
slightly and said, "Don’t worry, Rosie. She’s the daughter of people who
survive. Remember what I told you on Titanic? She’ll make it." What can I
do? I can’t tell her no. She is twenty-nine years old. These are her own
choices. Oh, if only she had found someone and settled down like her sister.
Now I wonder if I’ll ever sleep until this is over. The irony of it all. My
son, nice and safe in Texas and a daughter exposed to the greatest dangers of
the war. Thank goodness for the company of Robert. The little toddler kept me
busy all morning building with his blocks and making Halloween pictures.
November 21st, 1942
Some good news. There have been several big
defeats by the enemy in the Pacific. And in North Africa, the axis armies are
withdrawing, leaving the way open for the British troops. What was it that Churchill
said several days ago? I think it went something like this… "It’s not the
end, not even the beginning of the end. But perhaps the end of the
beginning." His words are so stirring. No wonder the British don’t give
up. Well, time to think about Thanksgiving. Not that it will require much
preparation. This year we decided that instead of using our food to feed
ourselves, we’ll all go down to the canteen and help the men and women in
uniform feel at home here in Denver. Anyway, it would only have been Jack,
myself, Patrick and Marjorie and of course, little Robert. Not much point for
four people and a baby. We’ll have some sandwiches later when we get home.
December 26th, 1942
Where has the year gone? Two of my children
in the Armed Forces. Jack involved in the ration board. I have my canteen work,
Edy busy with war relief and Cora and Matthew with their special program in
Georgia. Most of us working for the war in some way. Now there are truly
shortages that we feel. Coffee, gasoline, red meat. And besides that, no new
appliances or cars for the duration. Nylons are harder to get. And clothes have
their own tailored style. From what I read however, we are lucky compared to
other countries. We had a quiet Christmas. Last week, Jack with Robert helping,
put up the tree. It looked a bit odd, since all the ornaments were hung at the
bottom. However, we pronounced it lovely and took pictures to send to everyone.
Frank could not get home. His work, whatever it is, is considered priority.
Molly sent a quick telegram saying that she will let us know soon where she
will be going after her training. This is really funny. The doorbell rang
yesterday morning. I opened it to find a young man who looked rather familiar.
He said that I probably wouldn’t recognize him. Turns out it was Jay Edmund’s
son, from Chippewa Falls. Jack was thrilled to see the son of his old friend.
We’d been up there to visit once or twice since 1912. Jay’s folks passed away
in the 20’s and Jason told us that Jay himself was not well. We invited him to
spend the day with us while he was between trains. For Jack, it was like having
a tiny slice of his childhood back. He had someone that he could talk about
home with. When Jason left, we loaded him with all of our cookies and several
pound cakes. As he walked down the steps, I said a silent prayer that he would
be one of the lucky ones to come home. Jack came up behind me and kissed me
under the mistletoe. Something so simple and mundane. Yet for a few seconds
there was only he and I alone in a world of peace and love. How long will it be
before that world is at peace? We walked upstairs and looked in Patrick’s room.
He had fallen asleep at his desk, an unfinished model of a plane in front of
him. He looked so innocent, so like a little boy. I thought of the boys I’ve
met at the canteen. Boys, only a year older than Patrick. Boys who have only
had a taste of life. They are the ones being sacrificed. Yet without their
spunk and bravery, their strength and energy we haven’t a hope of winning. I
think Jack knew what I was thinking. Tonight he made no move to make love to
me. The mood was too heavy, too deep. We just lie there quietly listening to
the sounds of the wind and occasional train in the distance. Alone in our
thoughts, yet united in our fears.