There was so little time to think. I was immediately pulled back into the canteen, and work that was an hour behind. As I washed, scrubbed, and hauled I thought about that last hour in Miss Farleigh’s room.
I had been swept away on the wave of James’s bitterness. His attacks had wounded me deeply, and my first inclination had been to fight back. But now that I was away from him, I could see that he was so lost in his own struggle, he had no room to really think of anyone else. He had cut off Trixie in the same way as he was now cutting me off.
Well, I was not going to be pulled into his unhappiness. Could he really be held in Papa’s orbit by the promise of money? He obviously had no idea that Papa had reached out through a powerful friend to have him plucked out of his unit just before it sailed for Europe. He had spent the last year protecting his wounded pride, and creating a living excuse for what he thought must be his inadequacies. But had he fought for what he wanted? Or had he just succumbed blaming fate or luck? I had certainly had to fight to get where I was, and Trixie had fought in her own way without really understanding the real stakes. But she had fought. It seemed as if James had just given up and then made excuses for his life.
And if I told him how it had come about? That overweening pride of his would turn to fury against Papa. There would be a breach between father and son, and I would be the cause. But if I said nothing? He would return to headquarters awash in bitterness, cheating himself with well-turned phrases, left with the indelible fact that he had been transferred out of a unit ready for combat. And if he found about it later? What then?
Somewhere in there was the boy who stood up to them all at his 15th birthday, the man who had gone to Platsburg and joined the army. Could I give him one more chance to find the courage to make his own way?
But there was still time. If James knew the truth, maybe it would change things and the dreamer at that dining table years ago would be back. Perhaps it could make him less the cardboard figure he had become. Maybe he could forget the bitterness and be at one with himself again. I owed him something from all those years together --- the rowing lessons, the wild pony, the night in the cloakroom, afternoon tea beside the fire in the nursery.
I would tell him. That firmly established in my mind I moved to the front of the dining room and began to set the head table. It would only take a minute to say “Papa and his friend had you transferred.” I had to be careful. We would not have much time alone. I would try for after dinner, as he was leaving the dining room. I would draw him aside to say good-bye, and with a few words I would change everything.
In the maze of my thoughts and the constant work, the afternoon passed. These days with the lengthening twilight, it seemed as if the evening meal dragged on until all hours. The early shift would stay at their tables after they were through eating, waiting for their friends in the later flying shifts. There would be talking and laughing, relaxation after the training done.
Matthew was always one of the last ones in the dining room. He stayed on the flying lines until all operations were over for the day. The first out in the morning, and the last in at night. He was driving them hard, but no harder than he was driving himself.
At our five-thirty supper, talk still centered around the visiting colonel. Rosie unable to resist getting in a dig at me said, “I wouldn’t know he was your brother. He is so handsome and does not look a bit like you.”
Helen asked with a worried frown, “Did he tell you anything about Major Brandt – I mean “
“Heavens no. If you knew James, you’d know he wouldn’t discuss things like that with me.”
“But do you think they are going to punish Major Brandt?” Margaret persisted. The girls liked him as he always had a kind word when they served him.
“What for?” I asked. “This place has improved a thousand percent since he came.”
“And you don’t even know what it was like before you came,” added Rosie. “There hasn’t been a single funeral for a whole week, and there used to be one a day.”
At six o’clock, before the early shift, the door swung open, and the official party arrived for dinner. There they were, all four of them, three with a nod for the Red Cross contingent, but James with his eyes straight ahead.
At the table James talked animatedly with Major Hardy, completely ignored Matthew, and refused to meet my gaze. The meal ground on. In the kitchen Gabrielle kept the food hot for the late shift. Some of the cadets and junior officers began drifting out, but around the monitor’s tables there was still a group talking and laughing. Between the bright red curtains at the windows, I could see that the sun was finally setting behind Hanger One, tossing pink and gold streamers into a blue sky. The late flying shift was drifting in, slowly, wearily, looking forward to a good dinner and some rest.
“Where’s Len,” I asked. “Out taking Major Brandt’s place?”
Gil shook his head. “Major Brandt let Bob Michaelson try his hand at it today. Spreading authority around a bit. No, Len’s instructing. Putting the sun to bed. Still in the air when I left. It would serve him right if you gave me his milk.”
I laughed and shook my head. “When he goes to the front…not until.” I hurried to get more bowls of soup.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a cadet enter the room. He came alone, his face drawn, his steps hurried until he saw Gil. Slowly he walked to Len’s empty chair, next to Gil and said with no preamble, “He’s dead.”
The noise stopped. The one voice in the room seemed to fill it from end to end.
“Who’s dead? What are you talking---“
“Him,” the cadet laid a hand on the back of the empty chair. It shook and the chair vibrated against the floor.
“You’re crazy,” Gil shouted. “He was in the air when I left. He was coming in.”
The silence had spread to the whole room. The door opened once more, and an orderly from headquarters walked up to the head table and spoke a few words to Matthew. He got up and walked out of the room through the silence. Outside a motorcycle roared.
“It was that dumb guy Phillips,” the cadet said. “He put the ship into a vrille --- too long. Even Lieutenant Stokes couldn’t get it out.” After a pause he said, “They’re still together.”
No one moved. No one spoke. Gils face looked carved. His hand lay on the table where it had fallen. He seemed unable to move.
The cadet looked at him uncertainly, and then wandered to the student table, finally sitting down. No one wanted to look at anyone else. I stood over by the serving counter still holding bowls of soup, unable to put them down or to serve them. It seemed too much that the Chief of Monitors, that Len had fallen. Only a few moments before he had been up flying in the sunset, and then just as quickly had been on the ground, lost in a tangle of broken machinery. I could feel the morale of the flyers balancing on a thin edge.
Gil stirred. His hand moved and gripped the back of the empty chair next to him. Then in a loud voice that carried the length of the room he said, “I can have his milk. Val, bring me his milk.”
The room slowly came to life. Chairs scrapped. Life had changed but was still life. It flowed back into the room. At the head table James stood and started down the room. I put the milk down in front of Gil and walked towards the door. I had one more thing I could do for the living. For James.
I stepped towards the door in time to hear James say to Major Hardy. “After all the favorable statistics Brandt has been showing me, this accident shows me what is really going on here. The Chief of Monitors. There can be no excuse for that. It is most unfortunate.” James almost seemed to be tasting the words. “I have a report to write, and this will have to be an important part of that report.”
Major Hardy’s mouth became a thin hard line as he reached for the door. “Simmons let’s get along and let Colonel Ward say good-bye to his sister.”
I looked at James face where the look of triumph seemed etched as in a statue and said as coolly as I could, “Thankyou Major Hardy. There is really nothing more for us to say that has not been said.” I held out my hand. “Have a good trip home, James” Nothing more. I owed him nothing more ---- not now, not ever.
“Good-bye Val.” His eyes did not meet mine, and our hands fell apart too easily.
The dining room emptied more quickly than usual that night. Everyone seemed to want to get off alone with his thoughts. I was scrubbing the last of the tables when the door opened, and Matthew looked inside.
“I though Hardy might still be here. Did he leave?”
“Yes, quite a while ago.” Matthew turned to go. “Wait a minute. I would like to talk with about ----about something Just a few minutes.”
Matthew’s face gave away nothing. “All right, I’ll meet you in the garden about nine. You’ll be done by them?”
I nodded, and he left walking out briskly. The garden was the quadrangle formed by the canteen and the barracks. Miss Fairleigh had given it that hopeful name because of the poppies and a few straggly bushes that grew there. The name had stuck, mostly because the flyers felt it so ridiculous.
Matthew was waiting for me there, a dim blur in the twilight. I plunged right in.
“I want to talk about James.”
“Your brother? He is not exactly anyone’s favorite topic at the moment.”
“Yes, I know. He’s not exactly my favorite topic either. I just want to say I am so sorry about his visit and -----and everything.”
‘You shouldn’t be. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it did in a way. He was very angry with me, and our meeting this afternoon did not go well. It’s just that he is so unhappy with his job and with himself.”
“You could have fooled me. He seemed plenty pleased with both.”
“I know it looks that way. But there is something that he doesn’t know that I do. Papa told me before I left for France. Papa talked to one of his influential friends in Washington and had James pulled from his unit just before it sailed for France. I thought if he knew it was not his fault, it would change things, and he would go his own way and be himself again. Only I let him leave without telling him.”
“Why?”
“Because --- because of what he did to you out of pure spite.”
Matthew’s eyebrows raised. “To me?” He looked at me intently. “What do you mean to me?”
“It was after we heard about Len, and after you had gone. James told Major Hardy that the crash showed more about this base than your statistics. And he was putting it all in his report. James made it seem --- made you seem---.”
He shook his head. “Your brother can’t change facts. That remark James was made just to make himself feel important. Val, let him go. He has to find his own way. You were raised in the same house, and you found yours. I cannot imagine your father being able to stop you from getting to France one way or another. You are too damn stubborn. Look, I wouldn’t even have come to dinner tonight, except I didn’t want to leave you prey to his ungodly rudeness.”
Taps sounded in the clear night. We stood for a moment as the feeling of warmth and companionship flowed between us, and then we walked slowly out of the garden and around the canteen. I was surprised to see Bazz standing in the middle of the path, a sheaf of papers in one hand, his other clenched.
“Brandt, I knew I’d find you here lurking the bushes with...” his eyes slowly looked me over, “Miss Ward.”
“Lieutenant----“
“Yes, sir. And won’t your --- ah --- flirtation go better sir, when I’m at the front, sir.” He waved the papers in the air.
“You know I have nothing to do with orders lieutenant. I would give my right arm to have yours. Don’t want to go, is that it?” There was an edge to Matthew’s voice, and he stepped forward towards Bazz.
“I’ll go. I’m sick of playing soldier here. I just don’t like to be gotten rid of so that majors can sit around in the dark with Red Cross girls. Everyone knows what Red Cross ----“
Bazz’s words were chocked off as Matthew’s fist slammed into his face. Bazz staggered back, and then with a guttural sound flung himself at Matthew, arms flying, his orders fluttering to the ground.
I stood horrified as Matthew seemed to back up under the relentless rain of Bazz’s blows. Then, just as I realized Matthew was blocking most of them, he suddenly grabbed one of Bazz’s arms, turned him around, and bent it behind him. His other arm wrapped around Bazz’s neck. The night was quiet except for their harsh panting.
“Carter, I am sick to death of you.” Bazz tried to turn, but Matthew tightened his grip around his neck and jerked his arm upward. “Now I am going to tell you what to do lieutenant, and you, by damn, are going to do it. There will be no more talk about Miss Ward, and there will be no talk about this evening. Unless, of course, you want it known that the mighty Lieutenant Carter can’t fight his way out of a paper bag. With any luck flying at the front may make a man of you. Now go.”
He released Bazz who turned to give us a brief angry look, picked up his orders, and was gone.
Matthew pickup up his hat, dusted if off, and then straightened his uniform. He said only, “On a perfect day I would have been able to do the same thing to your equally arrogant brother.” Then in silence he walked me back to my barracks.