The Darling Dahlias and the Eleven O'Clock Lady

Lucy was studying her, frowning. “You work in the quartermaster’s office with Corporal Andrews, don’t you? Managing the supply orders from local people?”


Ophelia was guiltily aware of her undercover assignment. “That’s right. I’m the liaison person, between the camp and the local suppliers. Corporal Andrews arranges the contracts, and he and Sergeant Webb supervise the deliveries, manage the payments, and make sure that the camp gets what it pays for.” She hesitated. What was behind Lucy’s question? “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, I was just wondering,” Lucy said casually—too casually, Ophelia thought. “I’ve met Corporal Andrews a time or two. He’s nice.”

“He is,” Ophelia said. She suddenly remembered that Corporal Andrews rode an Army motorcycle on his various rounds of the local suppliers. Was he the guy Lucy was involved with? Assuming she was involved with anybody, that is, which might not be the case at all. And of course, the corporal wasn’t the only one who rode a motorcycle. The camp had a motor pool, and there were a couple of motorcycles in it, and she frequently heard them buzzing past her office. Hurriedly, she changed the subject. “Are you headed home? I’ll be going back to Darling in a few minutes. I’d be glad to drop you.”

Lucy smiled. “Thanks, but I’ve got Ralph’s car. He let me take it while he’s gone, for once, although I’m sure he doesn’t expect to get it back in one piece. He keeps saying that women don’t know how to drive.” Lucy’s eyes were bright, and to Ophelia, she seemed unusually vivacious. “Anyway, Bessie is over at the garden, keeping an eye on the boys who are picking the first batch of early sweet corn. I told her I’d give her a lift back to town.”

Bessie Bloodworth, another Dahlia and an experienced vegetable gardener, came out to the camp three days a week to supervise the planning and maintenance of the large garden. Captain Campbell had assigned a half-dozen strong young men to do the heavy work—plowing and harrowing with the camp mules and doing the planting, hoeing, irrigating, and picking. Bessie decided what they were going to plant and how much and when, and when it was ready for harvest. Bessie had told Ophelia that she thought the garden was going to be the best she’d ever seen. “We’ve already got ripe watermelons,” she’d said, “and it looks like we’ll soon have all the sweet corn the boys can eat.”

But Ophelia, Lucy, and Bessie weren’t the only Darling people working at the camp—and not the only Dahlias, either. The enrollees were expected to do most of the labor, but experienced local people, both men and women, were hired to help manage some of the operations. Since jobs were so scarce in Cypress County, there was plenty of competition for every position, even for jobs in the camp laundry and kitchen. The camp was about five miles outside of town, and most of the workers didn’t have their own transportation, so Captain Campbell had arranged for the camp jitney to pick up the employees each morning in front of the Darling courthouse and bring them back to town at the end of the day, at no charge.

The Dahlias who happened to be around at lunchtime often ate together at one of the tables in the mess hall. They agreed that Darling was much better off now that the camp had brought more money into the community, and that the building projects and roads and tree plantings and erosion controls were going to make a big difference in Cypress County.