On Wings of the Morning (25 page)

The train lurched and began sliding out of the station. They were enveloped in the darkness of a tunnel for several minutes, and then burst back into sunlight. From his navigation experience and the sun, Otto knew they were headed north.

The train traveled through closely packed stores and apartment buildings for a while, and then ran along the shore. As had been the case the entire journey from England, the soldiers were silent. Their war was over, and what they had to look forward to were long rehabilitations and an uncertain future. Otto preferred not to think about it.

The scenery soon resolved itself to a long gray shoreline and gray waters of bay after bay. Otto tired of looking out after a while, wishing he had a book. The ship he had come back on had a small library of castoffs, but nothing had interested him. As if reading his thoughts, a Red Cross girl came through the carriage bearing a basket loaded with books.

She stopped at each seat, offering the occupants an opportunity to choose something to read. Most of them declined, but when she reached Otto, asking “Would you like a book?” he said, “Yes, please.” He dug into the layers of books in the basket after she had deposited it in the seat, coming up with a copy of
Gone with the Wind.
He had heard about the movie but had not seen it. He didn’t know if he would like it. He would have to find out.

Half an hour later, Otto found himself impatient with the book. If the characters would just stop dallying and
do
something, that would be all right. Instead, they chattered endlessly. He put the book down on the seat beside him and stared out the window. He wished he had a newspaper. He could do the crossword and catch up with Little Orphan Annie. Leapin’ lizards, but it had been a long time since he had read any comics, except for those
The Stars and Stripes
carried.

He had had a few books in his foot locker, but whoever had packed his things up had taken them back to the base library. They weren’t there, anyhow. Not that they were his to begin with.

His head dropped forward, and he nodded off. The train bore on up the coast.

Otto was awakened by the sudden jolt of the train braking to a halt at the station. The silent soldiers gathered their bags and filed out. They were greeted by another sergeant with a clipboard. “Aww raght, troops,” he barked, “Follow me!” They fell in behind him, making their way through crowds which had very few civilians mixed in.

They emerged into the gray twilight in front of the station where more olive drab buses awaited them. Otto climbed on board the first one after handing his bag to a corporal to be put under the bus. The driver came on board and a few seconds later they were making their way through heavy traffic. They crept through the backups for about a half an hour before coming to a stately brick building. On it a new sign read, “U.S. Military Hospital, Boston District.” Letters cut into stone above the entrance read “Boston City Hospital.” The building looked old, and like much else, had been taken over by the military. Well, it would be home for a while. Otto hoped it wouldn’t be too long.

The wounded soldiers filed off the bus and up the steps. An orderly led them down a long hall to a large atrium with metal chairs arranged in rows. Otto took a seat near the window.

A doctor in a white lab coat came in with a corporal in uniform. “Attention!” he called, and the men rose to their feet.

“At ease, men. Be seated,” the doctor said. “I’m Major Lynch, and I want to welcome you to the burn unit of the Massachusetts Military Hospital. We’re relaxed about military matters here, so there’s no saluting and we don’t pay much attention to rank. We do pay attention to getting you to the point you can get out into society. That involves not only physical healing but also psychological healing. You’ve all been badly burned and scarred as a result. We’ll help you cope with the reactions you’re going to get when you are in the outside world. But for now, you’ll be here for a while. We can’t say how long, but it will be a while. Now, Corporal Smith will pass out telegram forms so you can notify your families where you are. The hospital address and ward name has been typed onto the form so they’ll know where to send mail.”

The corporal passed out the forms. Otto took the pencil he was offered and carefully printed,

IN HOSPITAL IN BOSTON WITH BURNS STOP DON’T KNOW WHEN I WILL BE RELEASED STOP WRITE TO ADDRESS BELOW STOP

He handed the form to the corporal who took it along with the others.

The major spoke again. You’ve been traveling so you wouldn’t be aware of what has been going on. This morning, forces of the Allied nations landed along the coast of Normandy in France. They have met with heavy resistance but have gained a foothold. I will bring you further information as it becomes available. I hope you will join me and the staff here in praying for the success of the mission. This is what we’ve been waiting for. ”

Well, what you know, Otto thought. The invasion has started. He wondered how his bomber outfit was involved. He knew they would be doing something. He’d have to find out more. He’d have to get hold of a newspaper and see if there was a radio.

“Corporal Smith will take you to your ward. Good afternoon and good luck.”

The corporal led them down another long hall to a ward much like the one in England.

“Choose any bed you want,” he called. “No fighting over the beds. They’re all alike. Dinner is at 1700 hours. I’ll come back to show you where the dining hall is.”

Otto chose a bed by the door and dropped his B bag on the covers and then settled himself. Large floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on a nondescript courtyard. He sat on his cot. So this was it for the next several months. He wondered what those months would hold. He lay on the bed and waited for the dinner call.

***

The next morning, after a dinner and breakfast that left Otto thinking that all Army meals were much the same, no matter where he was, Corporal Smith came into the ward. “Attention, troops!” he called. “Assembly in the solarium! Follow me!” The soldiers, dressed in their regular uniforms as opposed to hospital robes, rose and filtered out of the ward, down the hall to the same large room Dr. Lynch had greeted them in the day before. About fifty chairs had been arranged in a circle, and on each chair lay a mirror. Dr. Lynch stood expectantly in front of the wall away from the windows.

The men shuffled in. Each one found a seat, took the mirror and sat down. Otto did not look in the mirror. He had not looked in a mirror since the accident and he didn’t intend to start today.

“Good morning, men,” called Major Lynch. “Here is my first order to you: look in the mirror at your seat.”

The soldiers slowly complied. Otto could hear gasps. Some of the men began crying. Evidently he wasn’t the only one who had not seen himself in the mirror. Smith came over to him. “You heard the major, Captain. Use your mirror.”

Reluctantly, Otto lifted the small mirror and looked into it. What he saw made him gasp. He looked like a mummy from a horror film with its bindings off. His hair had been burned away; he had no eyebrows; and his nose and ears were half burned away. Most of his face was covered with a tight shiny layer of scar tissue, light brown in color. The only feature that was anywhere near the same were his green eyes. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. Dear God, how could he ever go out in public? He wanted to go somewhere and hide. No wonder Alice had run away from this horrible sight.

Major Lynch gave the soldiers time to quiet down. “You see what you look like to the outside world. We want you to get used to that. You will receive stares and unkind comments. But you are the same inside. You are, to a man, brave soldiers who have served your country. Let no one take that away from you.” He looked around the room. “Captain Kerchner, would you please stand?”

Otto was puzzled as he stood. The major continued. “Captain Kerchner was a B-17 pilot on a mission in which his bomber took heavy damage from flak and fighters. He kept the ship up so his crew could bail out and attempted to bring it home. It crashed and burned with the results you see when you look at Captain Kerchner. He is the winner of the Distinguished Flying Cross, and in my book, an authentic hero. I salute you, Captain Kerchner.” He snapped off a smart salute.

Otto stood there for a second, embarrassed by the attention. He returned Major Lynch’s salute and sat down.

Lynch continued. “Remember who you are and remember what you have done. We’ll get you fixed up as best we can and then get you home to your loved ones. And now, if you’ll return to the ward, the doctors will make their rounds.”

As the men stood to go out, Lynch came over to Otto. He stuck out his hand. “I just want to shake your hand, Captain. That was a fine piece of flying you did.”

Otto shook his hand. “Thank you, sir. I just wanted to take care of my crew and bring the aircraft back. I guess I batted .500 on that one.”

“You batted 1.000 in my book, Kerchner. I’m proud to know you. We’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

Otto turned and walked back to the ward to see what the day would bring.

***

Mein Lieber Otto,

We were so glad to get the telegram from you and have an address to write to. All we knew was that you had been injured. We didn’t have any details. I am sorry to hear that you were burned. I hope it was not too badly. We look forward to seeing you soon when you are allowed to come home.

Mama is about the same. She does not seem to be any worse, but then she does not get any better. The farm continues to do well. If I had 1000 more cows I could sell every bit of milk they would produce. I am thinking of continuing to expand the herd and hire more people to help. When the war ends, there will be plenty of babies born after the servicemen come home. You know what I mean (blush). So I think we will do pretty well.

Your allotment continues to come every month and I am saving it for you to do as you wish. Perhaps we can use it to buy a cow or two…or a thousand!

Continue to be brave, dear Otto. We are here waiting for your return.

Your loving sister,

Mata

Otto stared out the window of the train at the trackside buildings which seemed to move backward with the train’s motion. He was really going home and that was exciting. Over six weeks of treatment were behind him. It hadn’t been easy—there was painful physical therapy, occupational therapy and what they called just plain therapy to help him and the other burn patients adjust. Or maybe cope was a better word. He understood that he was angry about what had happened to him, even though he didn’t necessarily feel angry, but he was. He was angry about his crash, he was angry about his appearance, and he was angry about Alice leaving him. He settled into his seat and tried not to think about it.

The train surged ahead through the New York countryside. The fields were brown, and he saw few cars on the rural roads. Gas rationing would account for that, he thought.

The car he was in was filled with men in uniform. Some of them glanced at him as they came into the coach and quickly looked away. He was more or less resigned to his appearance now, but he wished someone would look at him without looking away quickly, or staring or flinching. Maybe that was asking too much.

He had written Mata with the train he would be arriving on. He would go through Chicago and then up the lake shore to Milwaukee and over to Madison and up through Eau Claire to Pioneer Lake. He would continue his rehab in the hospital at Madison. He thought he could fly down there and back if he could stand to be in an aircraft. He hadn’t flown since the accident. Ah, well, there was always the train.

A popular song came into his head for some reason. It seemed to pertain to his situation, in that way that pop songs do.

I don't want to walk without you, Baby;

Walk without my arm about you, Baby;

I thought the day you left me behind,

I'd take a stroll and get you right off my mind,

But now I find that

I don't want to walk without the sunshine

Why'd you have to turn off all that sunshine?

There was plenty of sunshine falling on the fields, but he certainly didn’t have anyone to walk with. Oh, well, it was just a song.

He thought how it would be good to be home, to be able to help on the farm and to be away from curious eyes. It was about harvest time, a time of work and beauty.

He closed his eyes and the train rolled on into the twilight.

***

The braking of the train awoke Otto. He had slept fitfully through the night, waking each time the train stopped at a station. The first gray light of dawn was filtering through the windows. Then they plunged into a tunnel. A conductor came walking down the aisle. “Chicago! Chicago! Union Station! Transfer here for points north, west and south! This station is Chicago!”

Otto stood and pulled his B bag off the overheard rack. He was stronger than he had been when he came to the hospital, but he had lost weight during his recovery. He waited while the other soldiers got their bags and joined the line shuffling off the train.

A blast of hot air hit him as he came down the steps. The interior of the coach was hot as well, but it was hotter outside. Wind swept down the platform and tore pieces of paper out of the hands of those who did not have a tight grip on them. A low hum arose from the crowd as they commented on the heat. Maybe they had forgotten what the Midwest was like in late summer.

Otto came to a schedule board and studied the departures. All right, his train didn’t leave for an hour so he could get some coffee and something to eat. He chose a walk-up hamburger stand so he wouldn’t have to endure the curious stares of waitresses and other diners in a sit-down eatery. It was as good as anything for breakfast. The old man who ran the hamburger stand looked at him curiously for a moment but his eyes did not linger on Otto’s face. That was a small saving grace anyhow.