Diary Of A War Bride

‘Did all the children living with the Harrises arrive at the same time as you?’

‘No. George, Elizabeth and Jennifer arrived several months after I did. They are siblings. Then Phillip, Little George, Patricia and Doreen arrived the following spring. They aren’t related, but were all on the same train. That summer, a billeting officer brought Edward and Audrey to the house late one night. They aren’t siblings either, but had been on the same train and the officer explained no other host family was able to take them.’ Her tone was soft and she’d smiled while saying each child’s name.

‘How old are they?’ he asked, mainly just to keep her talking.

Still twirling the flower, she said, ‘George is twelve and Edward is eleven. Little George is eight and Phillip seven. Elizabeth is fourteen, Audrey thirteen, Jennifer nine, and Doreen and Patricia are both six.’

‘That’s a houseful.’

Her face lit up as and her eyes literally shone. ‘It is, but they mind well, are very helpful and get along with one another for the most part.’

‘Even the siblings?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Just curious,’ he answered. ‘My brother and I fought when we were young. He’s two years older than me.’

‘Do you have any sisters?’

‘One.’ He bit his tongue. Even after all these years he couldn’t get used to saying he didn’t have a sister. He’d had one for thirteen years and would never forget it. Judy had been two years younger than him and her death had left a hole in his family. Especially in his mother’s heart. She’d said it wasn’t right for a parent to bury a child and he didn’t want her to go through that ever again. Not wanting to explain more, he asked, ‘What about you?’

She frowned slightly while glancing his way. ‘I’m an only child, but I have a cousin.’

Not sure why her frown turned into a scowl while she pinched her lips tight and started walking faster, he asked, ‘Do their families know where they are? The children, that is?’

She blinked and kept her eyes closed for some time before saying, ‘If they still have families, yes, they know where they are.’

A shiver rippled the hairs on his arms. ‘Their homes have been bombed?’

Marching forward, she said, ‘Most of London has been hit by bombs. Most of England.’

Dale didn’t have a response for that. Couldn’t have said the bombing was over either. If Hitler had his way, it wouldn’t be over until there was nothing left of London. Of England. Of most of the world.

They had rounded the building again. While woods had been the backdrop of the garden on the other two sides, this side showed the Nissen huts, tents and other structures of the base. For a moment he’d almost forgotten they’d been walking around the huge headquarter building. A few months ago, it had been an all girls’ school. The transformation had taken place, but it still seemed odd to imagine that not so long ago, rather than hundreds of soldiers, the grounds had been covered with giggling girls.

News of the war had filled the papers and airways back home, but until he’d arrived, seen the destruction firsthand, he’d been detached from the actual tragedy that was taking place in certain spots of the world. Those over here, like Kathryn, hadn’t been. They’d been living it. Still were.

They walked in silence along that side of the building, all the way to the corner and then around the front towards where her bicycle stood.

A B-25 was coming in for a landing, the one he’d worked on earlier and sent the pilot out to put it to the test. New equipment and instructions arrived regularly and it was his job to try out new ideas on various planes, report to others what worked and what didn’t. Most of it had to do with conserving fuel. The planes needed to fly a considerable distance and back, and every drop of fuel counted.

The ground beneath them rumbled. He was used to that and the noise, but to others, the roar of those engines was considered deafening.

Although she’d tucked her chin to her chest and was cringing at the noise, Kathryn watched as the bomber touched down and then rolled up the runway.

‘That’s the same plane that—’

‘Yes, it is,’ he admitted.

She lifted her chin. ‘Do you fly those?’

‘Mainly, I work on them,’ he answered. ‘But that also means I’ll fly them when I have to. The pilot flying that one is Rooster Robins. He was at the school with me today.’ He left out the part that Rooster had been flying it the other day, too, and that the pilot knew nothing about the mishap.

‘Passing out chewing gum.’ The pinch of her lips was back, saying she didn’t approve.

‘We hoped it would make the kids listen. Our Commander received word of Air Raid Wardens in London catching children, mainly young boys, collecting shrapnel, shell caps and fins, and all sorts of other pieces of bombs. One report said a pair of brothers had a complete incendiary bomb hidden in their outhouse. Groups of us went out to all of the schools within a thirty-mile radius today to warn the children to stay away from any shrapnel. That every piece is dangerous. We sent warning letters home with all of the students, instructing every adult to use caution, too.’

‘And you sent this home,’ she said, once again handing him the envelope.

He’d had Marilyn type up the letter, thinking if it looked official, Kathryn, or at least Norman, would accept the money. A good sort, and always willing to help, Marilyn was also trying to locate Ralph for him.

‘I can’t take it, Miss Winslow,’ he said. ‘I’ve already told you that. Buy the children some more chewing gum with it, or other candy, they were excited with the pieces we passed out.’

* * *

Kathryn squeezed the envelope harder. He had to take it. She didn’t want his money. Didn’t want anything to do with him. She was flustered, too. Both by her behaviour—walking the garden path with him should not have happened—and by his actions. Asking all those questions about her and the children. She shouldn’t have answered those questions. And he shouldn’t have told her about loving rain. No one loves rain. Furthermore, it was easier not to like him when she knew nothing about him, other than he was just a man. One of many.

Pulling her thoughts back to where they belonged, she said, ‘There are no other sweets to be purchased, Mr Johnson. The only people with such luxuries are you American soldiers.’

‘Then buy something else they need. There has to be something—’

He stopped in order to turn around at someone shouting, ‘Sarge!’

‘Excuse me,’ he said, turning to her before turning about again and jogging over to meet the man running towards them. The same one who’d been driving the Jeep the other day.

Warning bells went off inside her as she noted other men quickly gathering around Dale. He pointed in several directions, as if giving orders before he and the man she recognised started walking towards her.

‘Corporal Sanders will give you a ride—’

‘What’s happened?’ Kathryn interrupted.

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ he said. ‘Corporal, get her bike.’

Her heart was in her throat. ‘Is it the Germans?’

‘No, Miss Winslow, it’s not the Germans, it has nothing to do with them, but I need to go.’ He gestured towards the other man already wheeling her bike across the pavement. ‘Corporal Sanders will give you a ride home.’ He then touched the brim of his hat. ‘Good day.’

She didn’t have time to say more, he was already running towards another car park that held several Jeeps and lorries. Others were running, too, jumping in the vehicles.

Before she had time to contemplate what she should do, a Jeep pulled up next to her. She shook her head. ‘I don’t need a ride.’

‘Sarge said to give you a ride home and I can’t disobey a direct order. Name’s Rusty Sanders. Corporal Rusty Sanders. Go ahead and climb in, I already have your bike in the back.’

The young man had found a way to make her bicycle fit behind the seats. Sort of. The front tyre hung halfway out of the Jeep, but it appeared secure enough not to fall out.

She tucked the envelope she was still clutching into her pocket while nodding towards a line of vehicles already exiting the base. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Rooster, that’s one of the pilots,’ Corporal Sanders said, ‘saw a barn on fire when he was coming in for landing.’

‘A barn? Near here?’ She climbed into the Jeep. ‘Whose?’

‘Don’t know. It’s not too far away. Sarge is taking a unit out to help put it out.’ Pointing towards the vehicles, Sanders said, ‘Those are water-tank trucks. They are always ready to go put out a fire.’

‘Why?’

‘In case a plane crashes or a bomb goes off.’

Pressing a hand against her racing heart, she asked, ‘Was the barn bombed?’

‘No, there haven’t been any bombs dropped around here. Won’t be either.’

She grasped the edge of the Jeep when he shifted into gear and speeded up, and held on with all her might until the jerking motions smoothed out and allowed her to relax a bit.

‘Where is it? The barn the pilot saw on fire?’

‘Sounds like it must be over by the pub.’

Her heart leaped to her throat. Widow Whitcomb’s barn was near Oscar and Ed’s pub. Two billeted children were currently staying with her. Brothers who were close to Little George and Phillip’s ages. ‘Take me there.’

‘Ma’am, miss, I couldn’t—’

‘Yes, you can.’ Recalling how he’d said Dale had ordered him to take her home, she said, ‘It’s an order. Follow the others.’

‘I can’t do that. Sarge will—’

‘Then stop right here so I can get my bicycle out.’

He glanced her way and then, after scratching the side of his head, said, ‘I’m going to be in trouble either way.’

‘No, you won’t be, I’ll see to that.’ She had no idea how she’d go about doing that, but she had to see if the billeted children living with Mrs Whitcomb needed help. The widow hadn’t been happy about being required to take in children and had already sent away several others for misbehaviour.

* * *

Upon arriving at the pub, Kathryn wasn’t worried about Corporal Sanders being in trouble, it was the two boys she saw being put in another Jeep. She climbed over the edge of Jeep and ran towards them. ‘Are they hurt?’

‘Sarge says the burns aren’t bad, but the old woman refused for them to be seen by a doctor, so I’m taking them to be checked out by a medic at the base,’ a soldier said.

The barn, still on fire, was in the field behind the pub. Mrs Whitcomb was standing near one of the lorries, clearly yelling at the man who stood on top of it spraying water on the ground. Dale stood next to her, shaking his head, also clearly telling the man spraying the ground to listen to him, not her. Until Corporal Sanders stepped up beside them, then Dale spun around and though he was a distance away, Kathryn felt the moment his eyes landed on her.

She turned back and stepped closer to the Jeep in order to examine the boys. They were both dark with soot and their hands had red welts.

‘We tried to put out the fire,’ the younger boy said solemnly.

‘I can tell,’ she answered while reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief. After wrapping it around one of the largest blisters on the older boy’s hand, she said, ‘That was very brave of you.’

‘Mrs Whitcomb didn’t think so,’ the younger one said. ‘She said we can’t come back.’

‘We don’t want to go back,’ the older boy said.

Kathryn offered them each a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry about any of that,’ she said, making a mental note to call the billeting officer.

‘Excuse me,’ the soldier now behind the wheel of the Jeep said, ‘but Sarge told me to hurry.’

A quick glance over her shoulder said the ‘Sarge’ was walking towards her. Along with Corporal Sanders. ‘Then go.’ Slipping her hand into her pocket again, this time she withdrew the envelope she’d felt while pulling out the handkerchief. ‘Please deliver this to the base as well.’

The soldier took the envelope and drove away, and Kathryn drew a deep breath before turning about. Without waiting for Dale to comment on Corporal Sanders bringing her here, she said, ‘Why aren’t you putting out the fire? You’re just spraying the ground.’

‘It was already too far gone by the time we arrived,’ Dale replied. ‘We’ll keep the fire from spreading and then clean up the debris. Corporal Sanders will now give you a ride home.’

She hadn’t followed his last order and wouldn’t this time either. ‘I do not need a ride. When I’m ready to return home, I shall ride my bike.’ Head up, she spun around and walked towards the pub to call the billeting officer.

Chapter Three

21st of May, 1942

Dear Diary,

I heard the boys’ burns are healing fine and that they are doing well now living with the Butlers. No one knows how Mrs Whitcomb’s barn caught fire, but everyone is talking about how the fire would have spread if not for the soldiers. Especially Sergeant Johnson. I am thankful the soldiers were able to keep the fire from spreading and that the young brothers are no longer with Mrs Whitcomb, but I’m not singing praise. I find I have a great desire to remind the locals that we took care of each other before the Americans built the base and will do so again after they leave, but have managed to keep it to myself. No matter how difficult it may be, I must remain diplomatic.

However, I do find satisfaction in the fact I won when it came Sergeant Johnson and his money. I dare say I’m a bit surprised he gave in so easily and have concluded he must be angered that he didn’t get his way this time because I have not seen him since the day of the fire. Which of course is fine. I have no desire to see him again.

On her knees, pulling tiny weeds just poking out of the ground, Kathryn couldn’t stop herself from glancing up when the sky rumbled. Not one, but five planes were coming towards them. How could something so large glide through the sky? It seemed impossible. So impossible, she couldn’t stop thinking about them. Some things did that. Stuck in her brain, making her try to figure out what it was about them that she disliked. She made no mention of them, though. Under no circumstance did she want to appear interested in anything associated with the base. Not even to satisfy her own curiosity.

It was a Saturday, so the girls were helping in the garden and the boys were seeing to the animals. They’d all stopped to stare up at the planes growing closer. Just as Kathryn was about to instruct them to return to their chores, the first plane flew directly over the farm. At first, she’d thought she was seeing things, until a moment later, when she realised something was dropping from the sky. She couldn’t recognise what the tiny specks were, but they were falling directly at them.

Fear overtook her so quickly, she momentarily froze. Then, hooking Doreen around the waist with one hand, she grabbed Patricia’s hand with the other. ‘Run! Run for the bomb shelter!’

Fumbling with the gate as the planes continued to fly overhead, she screeched as something hit her head. It didn’t hurt, but fearing the next one, she gathered Doreen and Patricia close and crouched over the top of both of them, trying to protect them. Save them.

When nothing else hit her, she grabbed both girls and hurried though the gate. The other girls were on the path, as was Charlotte.

‘Hurry,’ Kathryn shouted as terror still raced over her. ‘Run!’

‘Why?’ Charlotte asked.

With her heart pounding, Kathryn attempted to usher them all towards the house. It would be shorter going through it than around it to the shelter. ‘The planes!’ Not exactly sure how to describe the dangers, she said, ‘The—the shrapnel, the—the things falling from the sky. Bombs.’

‘There aren’t any bombs,’ Charlotte said. ‘Those were American planes.’

Frustrated and scared, Kathryn couldn’t stop from shouting, ‘There are things falling from them! Shrapnel!’

‘That’s not shrapnel!’

‘It’s sweets!’

She wasn’t sure who said what, but spun to where the boys were running around the house.

‘They dropped sweets for us! Lots of it!’

Kathryn’s heart was still pounding, but an icy shiver had her lowering both Doreen and Patricia on to the porch. Her arms ached from holding the girls, but it was the fear that had encompassed her that had her trembling. The children were running about, picking up things.

‘Stop! Don’t touch anything!’

‘Kathryn, dear—’

‘Didn’t you read the letter they brought home?’ she interrupted Charlotte. ‘Anything falling from the sky is dangerous.’

‘Of course I read that letter. But as I said, those were American planes. Not German ones.’ Charlotte took something from one of the children and held it out. ‘It’s just sweets. Truly it is.’

Kathryn’s fear turned into anger as she plucked the single piece of gum, wrapped in shiny foil. ‘Chewing gum?’ Her mind seemed to turn a complete somersault. ‘Gum!’

‘Other sweets, too,’ Little George said, holding out a grubby palm full of colourfully wrapped sweets.

‘We can keep it, can’t we?’ Phillip asked.

‘Of course you can,’ Charlotte replied.

With squeals of delight, the children, including Doreen and Patricia, ran throughout the garden, searching for sweets.

‘Be careful of the plants!’ Charlotte yelled before quietly saying, ‘Now, wasn’t that nice? Dropping sweets for the children?’

‘Nice?’ The fury ripping across Kathryn was as hot as it was cold. ‘No, it wasn’t nice. It was the most deceitful, nasty trick anyone has ever played.’

‘Trick?’ Charlotte asked. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Not what.’ Kathryn was so mad she wanted to scream. ‘Who.’ Spinning about, she marched into the house. ‘Sergeant Dale Johnson. He’ll pay for this one.’

She walked straight through the house to the scullery, where she washed her hands and removed her apron. After tying a scarf around her hair, she headed out the back door and rode away on the bicycle before anyone had the chance to try to stop her.

This had gone too far. Scaring the daylights out of people was not funny and would not be tolerated.

The harder she pedalled, the madder she became. She should have known Dale wouldn’t have given up that easy. Men didn’t stop until they got what they wanted. Andrew hadn’t. When her father had said she was too young to marry, especially a soldier who was going off to war with no certainty of what the future might bring, Andrew hadn’t given up. No, he’d gone ahead and got married. Not to her, but to the youngest daughter of Sir Russell Childs, a Commander in the Royal Navy. Andrew got exactly what he didn’t want. He was now serving in the Navy, on a ship somewhere. She didn’t know. Or care.

When she’d first arrived at Charlotte and Norman’s, she’d written to Andrew, several times, and had been hurt when there had been no response. Broken-hearted for months, until Mum had told her about his marriage. She’d grown angry then. As she was now. Dale would get exactly what he deserved, too.

Kathryn forced herself to concentrate on the road. It hadn’t rained for a few days, so there was no mud to contend with, but the previous water fall had left the road rutted, forcing her to continuously ride from edge to edge, utilising the smoothest sections and, at times, the grass along the road when cars approached from either direction.

Each time she heard one, her insides clenched and she kept her gaze forward, not willing to look in case it was Norman coming to stop her or Corporal Sanders driving someone around. Particularly Sergeant Johnson. That was exactly who she was going to see, but wanted it to be on her terms. She would not be surprised by him again.

Upon turning on to the road leading to the base, the much smoother surface allowed her to travel faster and she wheeled up to the main building. Last time, she’d gone through the front doors and a nice older woman sitting there had sent someone to find Dale. Assuming it would be that way again, she stationed her bicycle beside the bench and hurried up the steps. The older woman wasn’t behind the desk today. A pretty younger one, with short blond hair, was sitting there, wearing the same green uniform as the older woman had been.

‘May I help you?’ she asked.

‘I would like to see Sergeant Dale Johnson, please,’ Kathryn responded.

The younger woman’s smile increased as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, he’s not available. Could someone else help you?’

Kathryn’s stomach hardened with a sickening sensation. Almost four weeks had passed since she’d given that money to the soldier. She’d thought that had been the end of it. That Dale had accepted he’d failed and she’d won, but maybe he’d been transferred. The sickening sensation inside her grew. ‘May I wait until he is available?’

The woman’s face softened. ‘I’m not sure when he’ll be back. You can leave a message and I’ll see he receives it upon his return. It should be some time this evening.’

Relief filled her that he was still stationed here. ‘Thank you, there’s no message.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be available tomorrow if you want to come back.’

Kathryn nodded even as a great sense of disappointment seemed to drain her. She sincerely had wanted to see him today, while her anger had driven her. By tomorrow, it might not be as strong. ‘I’ll consider that. Thank you again.’

She had been so focused on seeing Dale that she hadn’t noticed the other soldiers on the way in. The way out was different. She could feel their eyes and hear their whispers as she climbed on her bike and rode away. Whether she’d left a message or not, he’d know about her visit.

* * *

Dale hadn’t considered what he’d say upon arrival until he slowed the Jeep down to take the road that led to Kathryn’s house. The entire base knew she’d been there to see him and knew who she was. Brigadier Winslow’s daughter. The head of British Intelligence. There was no denying he’d wondered if her father couldn’t assist in his search for Ralph, but Major Hilts had ordered him to find out why she’d been at the base and to make sure she got whatever it was she needed. Hilts hadn’t said it better not be anything personal, but Dale got the message just the same.

He also knew why she’d been there. The candy dropping had to have surprised her and, knowing her as he already did, most likely irritated the pants right off her. He couldn’t say why that made him smile, except for the fact he hadn’t had this much fun teasing someone in a long time. He’d teased Judy plenty. Being close in age, they’d picked on each other almost as much as he and Ralph. His throat swelled slightly. Certain memories did that to him. Made him miss Judy all over again and reminded him of the reason he was here.

As his thoughts returned to the present, he let out a sigh.

He couldn’t afford to have Kathryn mad. Not for his sake. If it was just him, he’d ʼfess up to the Major about the plane scaring her off her bike, but couldn’t because of Ralph. They hadn’t heard from him in two years, so he’d enlisted and been willing to do whatever he had to in order to find his brother.

Pulling into the garden, he glanced around. The place looked vacant. Back home, on a sunny afternoon like this, no one could have kept him or any of his siblings inside. Even during the drought years.

While parking the Jeep, Dale kept one eye on the front door, expecting it to open. There was the possibility that no one was home. Norman had mentioned a car before. It was nowhere in sight, but it hadn’t been on his last visit either. The bicycle, however, was leaning against the barn.

The door opened and Norman appeared while Dale was climbing over the side of the Jeep.

‘Hello, Sergeant Johnson.’ Norman waved as he came down the steps. ‘Good to see you. The children were beside themselves with the goodies you dropped from the sky yesterday.’

Dale met Norman near the fence that surrounded the garden and, glad the other man had brought up the subject, he replied, ‘I didn’t drop the candy, but did ask the pilots to.’