A Pledge of Silence (6 page)

Withdrawing, he threw the condom out the car window and cleaned them both up with his handkerchief. They stayed in Davis Park for a while, disheveled, panting, entwined in each other’s arms, and in awe at the enormity of this new experience.

Chapter  6

Saying goodbye to Abe had been grim. In the week since he left, she constantly thought about their last night together. What had possessed her? Too much to drink? Her curiosity? His appealing maleness? His persistence? Yes, to all of those things, and to her undying love for him.

Truth be told, she was glad to get the initiation out of the way. Was that normal? With Evelyn at Annapolis, she had no one to talk to about it. She watched the mailbox for letters from her friends. Abe wrote:

June 25, 1939

My Sweet Margie,

You enter my thoughts every hour, my love. I’m concerned about our last night together and hate not knowing what you’re thinking. As for me, I’ll always cherish the moment and hope you feel the same way.

Love you always,

Abe

Lonely and desiring to be with him, she replied:

June 30, 1939

My Darling Abe,

I have no regrets. I treasure your love and want you in my life forever. I have to admit, though, I’m obsessing about you, a fighter pilot, learning maneuvers no one should have to know. I beg you to reconsider your priorities and place your safety above the ultimate thrill. As your fiancée and lover, is that too much for me to ask?

All my love,

Margie

She met with Myra at the Red Cross, who said a skirt and blouse were appropriate working clothes for most days. She would need a suit for occasional meetings with Red Cross officials, and her white uniform for Friday clinics.

She and Mama went shopping for medium-heeled shoes, a neutral-color purse, and material for her new wardrobe in black, navy-blue, marigold, and white. She had her hair cut and bought a new lipstick. A letter arrived from Evelyn.

July 10, 1939

To Margie from Annapolis,

I’m settled in here, and it’s time I jotted you a note. This place is fantastic, though it’s frightfully hot in July. I have a room all to myself in the nurses’ residence, and the privacy is wonderful.

The medical ward is my second home, and the older nurses are teaching me the navy’s way of doing things, which is picky, picky, same as at Grand Arbor. Being low-man on the totem pole, every morning I stock the supply carts, and then clean the floors and furniture in my ward. I make beds according to regulation, even the casters are turned in the same direction, and the window curtains must hang just so. When the chief nurse arrives, we make rounds, and I must know the name and status of each patient to update her.

The corpsmen assigned to the wards do most of the medical work under the nurses’ supervision. After my six-month probation, I’ll be teaching them procedures.

I miss you. How’s Abe doing? Have you set a wedding date?

True friends,

Evelyn

Casters facing in the same direction? Gosh almighty! Margie thought the standards at Grand Arbor went over the top. She didn’t miss it, not a single minute of it. Still, life here in Little River was lonesome. She replied to Evelyn:

July 25, 1939

Hey Kid,

Lucky you at Annapolis. I envy you being there. My life is on hold right now. Abe is in California. He signed up to train as a fighter pilot. It’s six additional months, and I’m not nuts about it. We had to set our wedding date back to June 15. You’re my best friend. Will you be my maid of honor? Please say yes and make me happy.

I’m busy, busy here. There’s a lot for me to learn at the Red Cross, and I like what I am doing. Myra has me teaching first aid to the Health Aid Corps and supervising the Junior Red Cross. Starting today, I’m coordinating production of medical supply kits that are distributed overseas. I had no idea there was such a need.

Write to me!

Margie

She met with her Junior Red Cross, a lively group of girls she fell in love with immediately. They had just held a bake sale and were planning a car wash to raise funds for Friendship Boxes they filled with school supplies and personal items for students overseas. They needed someone strong to carry heavy buckets of water, and Margie volunteered Frank, who protested only a little bit.

A letter arrived from Evelyn.

August 15, 1939

To Margie from Annapolis,

I’d love to be your maid of honor. I’ll put in for a leave for June and cross my fingers that it will be approved. I’m glad to hear your job suits you. What’s the surprise? Patient care never was your bag, but you are a good organizer and a patient teacher.

Right now, I’m looking out my window and enjoying the view. I see the midshipmen marching to dinner, hundreds of them, and three times a day I’m entertained by it. After grueling days of regiment and competition, they are out for a good time, and women are at a premium. So sad! A date is a “drag,” an unfortunate term, but leave it to men! I’ve been dragged to movies, dances, and parties—someone is always celebrating something. The ultimate treat is a sailing date with its ocean breezes, salt sprays, and lonesome guys. It’s a girls’ paradise.

I must stop now. There is group gathering for coed softball. I play outfield, way in the outfield. I’m becoming a bit of a jock. Would you think it?!

Wish you were here,

Evelyn

In December, Abe graduated as an officially commissioned pilot and 2
^nd
Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Air Corps, and he came home on leave. It was joyous having him home, and together they attended Christmas parties and family celebrations. They made love whenever they could sneak away, and sent joint Christmas cards signed
With love and good cheer, Margie and Abe
.

She showed him the color palette of their wedding, and the just-completed flower girl’s dress, but not her half-made wedding gown. At Mitchell’s Department Store, they selected a china pattern with light blue flowers, and flatware embellished with a small floret. After flipping through a stack of
Brides
magazines for ideas for flowers and table arrangements, Margie decided to save money by keeping such things simple. Abe needed one more usher; he contacted his friend Chuck to see if he would be available.

They met with Reverend Markel at the Little River Methodist Church to discuss their vows. After a prayer and a blessing, they felt their wedding plans complete.

At five o’clock one morning two weeks after Christmas, Abe left for Muroc. That evening, after a long day of feeling bereft, Margie wrote:

January 8, 1940

My Darling Abe,

You’ve only been gone a few hours and already our time together seems like a dream. My only consolation is that this will be our last parting. Please take care of yourself at that gunnery range. I have such a bad feeling about that place.

My love to you,

Margie

The war continued to escalate as Germany invaded Denmark and Norway. At the Red Cross, Margie worked overtime to keep up with demands. A letter arrived from Evelyn.

April, 21, 1940

To Margie from Annapolis,

Long time no hear from you. Just a note to let you know I’ve been transferred to Manila in the Philippines. Troops are being sent to the Far East, and where the troops go, we nurses aren’t far behind. It’s a plum assignment and I’m tickled pink, but there’s bad news too. I’m leaving May 1
^st
, and I won’t be able to be your maid of honor. I’m truly sorry, Margie. I hate to do this to you, but it is out of my hands.

Your sad friend,

Evelyn

She fretted what to do. Evelyn’s maid of honor dress was sewn except for the fitting. Who of her friends would fit into it? No one seemed right. Swallowing her hurt, she answered:

May 1, 1940

Dear Evelyn,

Golly Ned! What I would give to go to Manila! I am so envious of your exciting new experiences. It’s a wicked state of mind. You must write and tell me every detail of your life on a paradise island. I can only dream about it.

But, boo-hoo for me, you won’t be my maid of honor. I’m sorry too, and I’ll miss you.

At the Red Cross, there’s talk we may become a blood collection center. The needs are massive in Europe. Our workload will triple then.

Your jealous friend,

Margie

Two weeks later Abe’s letter arrived, and his first words caused her to hold her breath.

May 17, 1940

My Dearest Margie,

The blots on the paper are my tears. It hurts me to write you this news. I’ve just received orders that all leaves have been cancelled with no exceptions. Something is going on, but nobody will tell us what. My darling, I won’t be home for our June wedding. How will I ever make this up to you? I’ve never been so sad. Do I even dare ask you to wait a while longer?

How very much I love you,

Abe

She lay curled on her bed, her pillow wet with tears. Dreams of her life with Abe seemed to be slipping away. His letter crumpled in her hand as she read it again,
I’ve never been so sad.

“Me neither, my love,” she whispered. Her throat tightened as a fresh round of tears threatened.

Her mother came in carrying a tray. “Honey, you’ve got to eat. I made you some chocolate pudding, your favorite. Sit up and eat it for me, won’t you please?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You’ve got to try. You’ll feel better with a little something in your stomach. Please sit up.”

She raised up into a slump and sighed deeply.

“I know you’re disappointed, but it’s just a postponement. As soon as Abe comes home, you two will get married. You’ll have a long life together.”

“He’s a fighter pilot, Mama; what are his chances of coming home? I’m afraid for him.”

“You’re being negative. We’re not at war. He’ll be safe. Come now. Eat the pudding. You’ll feel better.”

Margie did as she was told while thinking about cancelling the church, food, flowers, and contacting the guests. She would store away her wedding dress, veil, and the tiara she had bought to wear in her hair. That evening, still sad but calmer, she answered Abe’s letter.

May 21, 1940

My Dearest Darling,

Your letter brought bad news, but I beg of you not to feel so sad. Fate might get in the way of our plans, but never our love for each other. The army can’t keep us apart forever, and when you return home, I’ll be here for you. In the meantime, I’ll think of you every time I look at the sky.

Love and many kisses.

Your Margie

Abe got posted to Newfoundland to fly reconnaissance over the North Atlantic. For Margie, summer dragged on, long, hot and lonesome. Now, with winter winds rattling the windows, she huddled around the radio with her family to listen to President Roosevelt’s Fireside Chat. Dad solemnly smoked his pipe, Mama put her knitting down, and Frank sat forward to concentrate on every word the President said.

My Fellow Americans:

It is with trepidation that I report our free society is in great danger. Nazi masters of Germany intend to dominate not only Europe but also the whole world. If Great Britain falls, the Axis powers will bring tremendous resources against us. The outcome will be disastrous—our cities will be destroyed, treachery will twist our culture, and bribery will mangle our economy. The right to worship will be threatened, and our children will goose-step in search of new gods.

It is with profound consciousness of my responsibilities to my countrymen and to my country’s cause, I have tonight issued a proclamation that a national emergency exists and requires the strengthening of our defense to the extreme limit of our national power and authority. The nation will expect all individuals and all groups to play their full parts, without stint, and without selfishness, and without doubt that our democracy will triumphantly survive.