There was a crack in Viv’s cool facade. Her eyes glistened; the pink glow in her cheeks also gave her away.
“Are you sure you can handle me, Harry Westwood?” Viv said, cocking her head, her hands now on her hips. “An American woman who’s not going to bow down to you or your family even if you end up heir to the throne? I’m not exactly some delicate English rose.”
“With that I would agree.” Harry looked at her, then up at the sky and back to her with a smile that could launch a film career. “And I love you for all of that and more, Viviana; do you understand that? I love you. Also, I assure you there’s no chance I’ll end up king. So you should have no worries about that.” He paused for a few moments, and she just gazed at him, her face softening, the hint of a smile on her lips.
Harry threw up his hands. “For God’s sake, I’m British. We don’t generally announce our feelings in front of the world like this, so please say something. Anything.”
She stepped toward him and held out her hand.
“Come on,” she said, a real smile now. “Help me serve some doughnuts and candy, and we’ll talk.”
He smiled back and let out a huge breath as he took her hand, and the two of them headed into the Cheyenne.
The colonel looked at me with such a mischievous smile that I had to laugh.
“Hell, that was like watching one of those romantic movies my wife loves,” he said, and we both started laughing. “You’ll have to let me know how it ends for them.”
“I will,” I said. “And I have to ask you something. A favor.”
“Tell me,” he said. I told him the story of Danny, from the very beginning to the latest news about Stalag Luft IV.
“When the German POW camps are finally liberated, which I hope will be soon, I’d like to be there,” I said. “I’m sure that the Red Cross will be sent to help. Can you pull some strings, make sure Clubmobile Group F is one of the first groups sent in?”
The colonel studied me with a combination of pride and compassion, like a favorite uncle.
“That’s a reasonable request,” he said. “I’ll get you there if I can, my dear.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. I gave him one more hug.
“Just know that if you do find your fiancé, he won’t be the same person he was when he left for war.”
I thought back to Danny and me, sitting on that checkered blanket on the grass at the Bunker Hill Monument days before he left. It was a lifetime ago.
“I do understand that. And that’s okay. Neither am I.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
April 21, 1945
Dear Deidre, Darcy, Niamh, and Mum and Dad,
Hello from somewhere in Germany (yes, you read that right—that’s all the censors will let me say!). I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written; I’ve barely had time to breathe these past weeks. And it’s very hard to read and write by flashlight or candlelight, so I’ve tried to start this letter many times and given up.
In my last letter, we had just retreated to France after our adventures over Christmas. By the end of January, we were happy to be back on the front lines with the soldiers again, first “somewhere” in Belgium and now here in Germany, as this war is moving very fast these days, and I hope that’s a good thing.
The counteroffensive has been nonstop, and it’s exciting and rewarding to be a part of it. Relaxation is rare as we are constantly on the move, serving various units. We’ve been so busy, we’re now having a few GIs make the doughnuts for us—which is just fine with me, Dottie, and Viv, as we’re all sick of that part of the job. Our days are so long and we’re so tired in the evening, we rarely even make it to dinner. Still, I wouldn’t trade being here for anything, though I miss you all terribly!
All the American flags here have been flying half-staff at the news of Roosevelt’s death. There is something so tragic about the fact that he didn’t live to see the final chapter of this war, that he didn’t see the results of the Allies’ enormous sacrifices and hard work.
Our captain, Liz Anderson, has joined our friends Blanche and Frankie on their Clubmobile the Uncle Sam. The other member of their trio, our dear friend Martha, was killed when the hospital she was staying at was bombed. It’s still so difficult for me to write those words. Losing Martha has devastated all of us. She was the sweetest person and a wonderful friend.
I stopped writing and stared at the peeling, pink floral wallpaper in my room. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I realized I would have to rewrite the last part of the letter. It had been almost four months since Martha’s death, and we were all still feeling the loss. But sharing the news would only alarm my family.
Since Martha’s passing, long days and hard work had been our solace. It was a distraction and a comfort to serve the troops, and it reminded us all of why we were there, despite the ever-present dangers.
By mid-March, we had been ordered to move into Germany near Cologne. The Nazis had put up roadblocks of double rows of logs every hundred yards or so, so getting there was like driving through an unending obstacle course. Witnessing the destruction of the German countryside had been depressing: many towns had been demolished to splinters and rubble, and a grim, deathly pallor permeated everything. The smell of dead bodies was so overwhelming, at times we had to cover our faces with our scarves.
As in France, there were refugees trudging along the roads, pushing wheelbarrows of household goods or carrying shawl bundles or shiny suitcases. Unlike in France, the condition of the German refugees varied greatly. The difference was in the extremity of the condition of the German people we saw; it was varied and shocking. Some were barefoot and emaciated, like walking corpses, while others were deeply tanned and wore German military boots.
Clubmobile Group F was now billeted in a large shell-damaged home on the outskirts of Cologne. With eight bedrooms, it was large enough for all of us, and the local GIs had rigged up stoves in the bedrooms so we weren’t cold at night. We were so close to the front, some nights it was impossible to sleep with the constant blasts of artillery fire and the roar of fighter planes overhead.
I wanted to tell my sisters about all of our adventures, about being trapped in Vielsalm and Christmas Eve, about Dottie and Joe Brandon and Princess Viv finding a British aristocrat. I even wanted to tell them about Peter, who was somewhere on the front with the rest of the Eighty-Second, if he was still alive. If. I tried not to think about that. In any case, those stories would have to wait.
Someone knocked on the bedroom door, and I called for them to come in.
It was Liz, holding a pile of paperwork per usual.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“It is,” she said. “But we just received new orders, and I wanted to tell you first.”
“Oh?” I said, feeling nervous now. I started to crack my knuckles.
“I’m not sure what your friend Colonel Brooks said, but Group F has been assigned to a Luftwaffe base over an hour away.”
“What has this got to do with Colonel Brooks?”
“Several hundred Allied POWs have just been liberated over the past forty-eight hours—they’ve been taken to that base. It’s the first word of POWs being liberated anywhere in the ETO.”
“So we’re going there when?” I asked.
“As soon as you’re ready,” she said.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt slightly ill.
“He honored your request, Fiona,” Liz said. “We probably wouldn’t have even heard about this if it wasn’t for Colonel Brooks.”
“He did,” I said. “And I can’t quite believe we’re going there today.”
“But are you really ready? For where we’re going?” Liz said, examining my face. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m ready,” I said, my stomach still churning. “But I’m trying to keep my expectations low. It’s not like Danny’s going to walk off the first truck that arrives.”
The first Clubmobile convoy to the Luftwaffe base consisted of just the Cheyenne and the Uncle Sam. It was led by none other than our friendly liaison, Captain Guy Sherry. I’m not sure how exactly the captain ended up getting assigned to our group again, and I was surprised Liz approved it, but Blanche was thrilled. Though the two of them were discreet, somehow it just made their romance all the more obvious.
We pulled up in front of the base’s airdrome, which was now the US Command’s quarters, and went to introduce ourselves to the officer in charge.