“Me,” Blanche said, raising her hand, throwing her gear in the back and jumping into the front seat of Liz’s jeep before anyone else had moved. Viv and I joined her.
As soon as we pulled far enough away that we were out of earshot, Blanche burst out, “For Christ’s sake, why didn’t anyone tell me this last night? This is mortifying. Did all of you know?” She hung her head in her hands.
“I told them when I got there,” Liz said, trying not to smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you got there?” Blanche said.
“After that much champagne, would it have done any good?” Viv asked her. “Honestly?”
Blanche gave Viv a look, then she eyed me. Her face had gone from green to flaming red, and she buried her face in her hands again. She started to shake like she was sobbing, and Liz and Viv looked at me, eyes wide, not sure what to do. But then Blanche raised her head, and we could see that she was laughing so hard she was crying. And then we all started roaring too, relieved that she had taken it so well.
“I mean, I’m still embarrassed, but you have to admit, it’s pretty hilarious,” Blanche said. “What are the odds? I haven’t flirted like that with anyone since London, and then to find out ‘Captain Guy whatever’ is coming with us? Are you joking? You can’t even make it up.”
“I’m so glad you aren’t crying,” I said, still laughing.
“Phew, thank God I was a good Catholic girl,” Blanche said. “One more glass of champagne and I might not have been. That would have been a reason to cry.”
“That’s why we dragged you out of there,” I said.
“Are you going to talk to him about it?” Viv asked.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” she said. “We’re going to be stuck with him; I’ll have to.”
“I’m sure if you make light of it, it’ll be fine. I already talked to Captain Sherry about keeping things proper,” Liz said. She paused before adding, “Please tell me it was nothing more than just a night of flirting.”
“Ha! No, honestly, that’s all it was,” Blanche said, a little too forcefully. “Don’t get me wrong; he’s handsome as hell. A total ringer for Clark Gable. But I never thought I’d see him again.”
“Uh-huh,” Viv said, elbowing me in the back seat, clearly unconvinced.
“Oh, be quiet, Viv,” Blanche said, annoyed but laughing again.
When we arrived at our Clubmobiles outside the city center, Blanche darted into the Uncle Sam without even looking Captain Guy’s way. Martha, Frankie, and Dottie, who was carrying Barbara in her helmet again, climbed out of his jeep, trying not to giggle too much.
“All right, Captain, you’ve got the itinerary. As I said, Fiona will be your right-hand woman as head of this crew,” Liz said. “I’m going to be trying to check in with different groups throughout the journey. But if I don’t get to you, I’ll see you in Paris in early December.”
“Sounds good,” Captain Guy said. “Fiona, I’m sure you’ll help me make peace with the group.” He gave me a pleading look with his eyes.
Blanche wasn’t wrong about him being a Clark Gable look-alike. He had probably already broken more than a few hearts in the war.
“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Liz, why Paris in December?” I couldn’t believe we would actually get to see Paris.
“We’ll be reuniting there with all of the Clubmobiles that came over together,” Liz said. “There’ll be a new plan from there.”
All of us said our good-byes, and the Cheyenne and Uncle Sam followed Captain Guy’s supply truck to set off on the road.
Planes flew over, tanks roared past us, and soldiers whistled and waved as we once again navigated the crowded, debris-strewn roads. We saw more utter devastation, rotting animals and blown-out villages with mountains of rubble that made you catch your breath and wonder how they would ever rebuild.
But there were hopeful signs too, signs of life returning, and of France’s resilience. Gnarled old men wearing sabots walked down the sides of the road, seemingly complaining to one another and shouting flirtatious things to us in French when we passed by.
We drove by a cottage, and although its roof had been nearly shelled off, it had freshly painted pale-yellow shutters and pink geraniums in its window boxes. A tiny boy in a checkered smock tumbled out the front door and yelled bonjour to us.
At one point, I had to maneuver around a group of young nuns in full habits, laughing as they rode bicycles in a way that managed to look both dignified and silly.
We finally arrived at our first campsite in the middle of the countryside on the outskirts of a tiny village. There we encountered a group of combat engineers that had never even seen a Clubmobile before. They had just arrived there the day before, and you would have thought we were the Andrews Sisters the way the men cheered as we drove up. They rolled out the red carpet, setting up our two pyramid-style tents under some apple trees a little apart from the main camp so we’d have some privacy. They even dug us our latrine.
“All right, ladies, this will be our base for the next few weeks,” Captain Guy said after our living quarters were nearly set up. “Every day you’ll be split up and will drive out to serve some of the remotely stationed ack-ack, infantry, tank, and artillery units in the area.”
“Captain, these soldiers have been so kind in helping us get settled, I thought we’d start making doughnuts and coffee right away if that’s all right with you,” I said. All the girls seemed in agreement, except for Viv, who looked at me like she would have preferred a nap.
“Of course,” he said. “Before you do, though . . . uh, Blanche, could I have a word, alone?”
Blanche turned a deep pink and nodded, and the two of them walked away to talk under the apple trees.
We all gave each other looks and tried not to giggle too much as we headed over to the Clubmobiles. A GI named Monty volunteered to help set up the generators.
“Hey, I’m from Portsmouth, New Hampshire,” he said. He noticed the Beantown Girls painted on the Cheyenne and nodded to it. “You’re from Boston?”
“We are,” I said. “You a Red Sox fan?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Too many Yankee fans around here. I really can’t believe you girls came all the way out here for us.”
“How long you been here, soldier?”
“D plus 116,” he said. “Who’s this?” Monty pointed to Barbara, who was sleeping in the helmet on the counter next to the Life Savers and Lucky Strikes.
“Oh, that’s Barbara. We’re taking care of her for her owner in the Eighty-Second Airborne,” Dottie said. “Want to hold her?”
“Barbara the dog.” Monty laughed as he picked her up. “Great name.”
After we had the doughnut machines going and the coffee brewed, we let Monty pick out the first record for the record player. The actual Andrews Sisters started playing over our speakers but softly, per the commanding officer’s request. A couple of nearby GIs were shaving in front of tiny mirrors, using their helmets as sinks, but they immediately dropped their razors and came running over, smiling at the sound of music. Others followed from all over the camp, leaving whatever they were doing behind to listen to the sounds of home. We had long lines in front of both Clubmobiles until the end of the day, and though we were exhausted, the gratitude from the men made it all worthwhile.
Monty sat with us under the apple trees in the afternoon sun, telling us all about his plans to marry his high school sweetheart when he got home.
“Thelma’s waiting for me to come back,” he said, sipping coffee. “Such a great gal; you’d love her. We want to move to Boston or a bigger city; New Hampshire’s kind of a snore.”
We heard some noises in the field about a couple hundred yards beyond the apple orchard, and Monty stood up. He dropped his coffee cup on the ground, and his whole demeanor changed.
I caught sight of some children playing in the field.
“Nothing to worry about,” I said. “Just a couple kids.”
“No. They shouldn’t be over there. It hasn’t been cleared. It hasn’t been swept yet.” Monty dropped his doughnut on the ground. “Why don’t they know that? There might be mines; they could get killed.” He ran to the field.
“Hey, hey!” Monty yelled, waving frantically at the children as he approached them. “Danger! Run away! Danger!”