The bomber jacket, p.37
The Bomber Jacket, page 37
“Coming for tea. I see you have yours,” Henry replied, in a flat tone.
“Yes.” Colin hesitated a moment, then added, “Care to join me?”
Something flashed in Henry’s eyes. Anger? Bitterness? But he shrugged. “I have a few moments.”
Colin nodded to a nearby table.
“I’ll get my tea and join you,” Henry walked to the service area.
Colin tried to fathom how he might begin what Gretchen had asked: Mend your friendship with Henry. Do it for Henry’s sake. But what words could start that process? There were only three that mattered. The three he said once Henry returned with his tea and scone.
“Henry, I’m sorry.”
Henry froze, his teacup halfway to his lips, then set the cup down on the saucer without a sip. Colin continued with words he had mentally rehearsed. “I don’t ever expect we can mend our friendship, given all that’s happened. And all I said.”
Henry sat expressionless. Motionless. Looking at Colin, who didn’t look away.
Colin took a breath and said, haltingly, “But I need you to know that I’m sorry. For everything. For this awful mess.”
Henry continued to stare at him warily, his hands motionless next to his untasted tea.
Finally, Colin said in a terse voice, “Well, don’t just sit there, you daft Yank. At least beat the shait out of me!”
Henry’s silent eyes conveyed an emotion Colin knew all too well: a man’s grief at an unspeakable loss.
Henry carefully brought his cup to his mouth and took a large gulp. Then he stood, his cup making a clunk on the saucer. “It wouldn’t help,” he finally said in a tone of such resigned despair Colin almost cringed. He had never seen Henry like this. Like something was eating him from the inside.
Colin quickly rose to his feet as Henry turned. “Don’t go. Please.” He tried to keep the pleading from his voice. “I know you don’t want to have this conversation. But here it is. Gretchen sent me a letter…”
Turning back, Henry interrupted with a sarcasm foreign to his voice. “Oh, you too?”
Colin ignored this. “…and told me, basically, that she wouldn’t be seeing me or having anything to do with me, but she asked… she pleaded, Henry… that I try to mend our friendship. She said to do it for her sake.” No way would he say “for your sake.”
“She asked you that?”
They stood on either side of the table, talking in low tones. But they were attracting attention. “Let’s go outside, Henry, where we can talk privately.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Colin, in private or in public. Gretchen wrote to me, too. To let me know that she refuses to stand in the way of our friendship, that since choosing one of us as a lover and the other as a friend would always come between us, she won’t do either. So she will just erase us both from her life.”
Henry’s voice had grown deeper and angrier, but beneath, Colin heard the suffering. Oh Gretchen, how could you do this to Henry?
Colin saw increasing perked-up interest from airmen nearby. They were both well-known in this small world. Colin, a decorated pilot, returned to active service in spite of horrendous injuries. Henry, a liaison between two allies, well-liked by enlisted and officers alike. And known to be the constant companion of the Yank nurse who worked at the aerodrome.
“Henry, let’s go outside.”
“Colin, I am outside. I couldn’t be more outside if I tried. I’m neither fish nor fowl. I’m not a Yank, and I’m not a Brit. I’m not an officer, and I’m not enlisted. I don’t fit in anywhere. And I’m neither a friend nor a lover.” With that remark, he turned and headed toward the exit.
It would be best to let him go. The breach was too wide, the wounds too deep, the passage of time too long. If he followed Henry, Henry was likely to knock his lights out. But that would feel good. It would be a way to put a final blow to their friendship. Literally.
He caught up to Henry just outside the door. Light, icy rain had begun falling, and the wind had picked up. It was as bitter and miserable a day as one could want in southern England. It certainly fit his mood.
“Henry. Wait!”
Henry turned around, angry desperation across his face.
“What do you want, Colin? Really, I’ve heard about the stubbornness of the Scots, but this is ridiculous. Why can’t you just let it go?”
“So why don’t you just stop being so self-righteous and hit me one? It would make us both feel better.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Henry, I don’t know anything anymore. The reason I’m here, back in the RAF, is because of a different letter Gretchen wrote to me, making me realize what a useless, self-pitying blob I was, sulking in the Highlands while her brother and mine both gave their life for a cause I’m not sure I even believe in anymore. I didn’t have the guts to do what I constantly longed to do—walk into that bay and just let the ocean take me. Like it had taken my brother. And Gretchen’s.”
Henry had gone very still.
“She told me off in no uncertain terms, both in that letter and this most recent one. She told me there’s no going back. There’s nothing left between us. Henry, you’re the one who followed the woman you loved into a foreign country and took up a war when it was not yet your own fight. You’re the one who deserves her.”
“Apparently not,” Henry said, looking across the distance to the B17s returning to the neighboring American base from their daily raid on Germany.
Colin tried once again to get through to his old friend. “I just want you to believe that I did nothing to make Gretchen fall in love with me. I don’t know why she did. I did everything to discourage her. I was cold to her, cruel even at times, and said heartless things.”
“I guess that’s it,” Henry said with a shaky sigh. “I did nothing to discourage her. I made it clear how I felt and waited for her to feel the same. But it didn’t happen in the States, and it didn’t happen in Scotland or here in England.”
The rain was growing heavier.
“Henry, it’s after four. The bar’s open. Let’s go get a drink.”
“We could be thrown in the brig for neglecting our duty.”
“I don’t give a bloody feckin’ shait.”
“You know, Colin, when you’re upset, your accent gets worse.”
Colin looked at Henry, taken aback, and then burst out laughing. “Aye, ye damn Yankee, and you still can’t tell the difference between a lowland and highland brogue.”
“I’m not much of a drinker, you know,” Henry replied.
“And I am. So let’s compromise and just get slightly smashed.”
“Aye. Let’s,” Henry shrugged, with an exaggerated Scottish accent.
Over the next several weeks, Colin and Henry met occasionally, sometimes over a hurriedly-grabbed lunch or a bit of afternoon tea, but mostly at the pub for a warm ale and the company of the Brits and Yanks.
The atmosphere had grown more charged on both bases. Thousands of Yanks were pouring into the country. Soldiers. Marines. An invasion was pending. No one was supposed to know, yet everyone did. How could you not help but know, Henry thought, even if you didn’t already because of your job? Everyone had a friend, who had a friend, who said there were all these secret maneuvers in the west of Scotland…
All very hush-hush. All very expected.
With the coming of late winter and better weather, the bombing campaign heated up. The USAAF and the RAF were throwing everything they had at the Germans. Softening them up. And as a consequence, the casualty rate mounted exponentially, and the sense of live today or not at all pervaded every free moment.
Henry and Colin gradually grew more comfortable with each other, talking about everything under the sun except for the one topic—the one person—who was most on their minds.
Henry missed Gretchen in the way one would miss a limb. No longer capable of certain mental postures. Though he had gone through other times of separation, either physically or emotionally, he had always been able to eventually bridge the gap, even if it was not the intimate connection he craved. He had settled for whatever he could get. He hadn’t figured out how to settle for nothing.
Henry knew there was only one way to get Gretchen back in his life. He would have found a way to make Colin and Gretchen see they were miserable without each other, and that he was miserable because they were. He’d come to the anguished conclusion that he’d rather have Gretchen as a part of his life, loving someone else, than completely gone from it.
And it couldn’t be done subtly or softly, only by laying out the harsh facts. It was wartime. Anything could happen to any of them. Especially Colin, getting ready to head out for a refresher course in navigation so he could go back into the skies on a Lancaster bomber. He would be away for nearly six weeks and then assigned who knows where.
“I can’t be a pilot, Henry,” Colin explained. “They won’t let me. But I finally convinced them, with some help from our well-connected friend Fiona, that I could handle the job of navigator. And as a trained pilot, I could be a backup if…”
Henry was well aware of the “ifs.” He had been heartsick at Colin’s news, even knowing that for Colin this was necessary. And even more necessary was seeing Colin and Gretchen together before Colin left, having some joy in what few spare moments could be had.
After a night of watching Colin get plastered, Henry laid it out for him. “Colin, here’s the thing. You love Gretchen.”
“Henry,” Colin protested, his eyes hazed from drink, “we’re not going to talk about this, ye ken? It’s over.”
“No, it isn’t. It hasn’t even begun, and it has to. Because Gretchen loves you. And we both know how I feel about her. I’ve always wanted only the best for her. I always thought that that was me…”
“Aye, ‘tis. But, please, I can’t…”
“Shut up. And listen. I know that the only thing that will make Gretchen happy is you. And I’m tired of us all moping about. Though I don’t see her, I hear about her. She’s miserable.”
“Henry, for the love of God, can we please…”
“I said shut up, Colin. You know there’s a push-on. It’s clear the target is France or Belgium. It’s only a matter of when. And you’re going back to flying ops.”
“Not flying.” There was bitterness in Colin’s voice.
“You’ll be in the air in a bomber visiting Germany. That’s flying enough. And putting yourself back on the block. You could get the chop…”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“I’m just telling the truth. Because I don’t want any of us to leave this world regretting that we passed up a chance for happiness. If Gretchen isn’t happy, I never will be.” He paused for effect. “But I want to be the best man at the wedding.”
Colin involuntarily spit a large mouthful of ale all over the unfortunate Yank who happened to be walking by.
The Yank pulled Colin to his feet. “What the hell, you bloody British piece of shit!”
Colin was coughing so hard he could hardly breathe.
“Ah, leave him alone, Michaels,” Henry yelled at the flyer over the din of the pub. “He’s about to get married.”
“Get married?!” the Yank replied. “God damn it to hell. To whom?”
“That Yankee nurse who works at the RAF hospital,” Henry shouted, sending Colin into another coughing fit.
“Well, bloody hell, let’s celebrate.” Climbing on top of the table, Michaels bellowed, “Hey everybody, listen up. This here damn piece of British riff-raff is getting married to one of our Yank gals. The one who works at the RAF hospital.”
Then he looked down at Henry and the intended groom and asked, “When?”
“Pretty soon,” Henry pushed Colin back on his chair before he collapsed.
A huge hurrah swelled up from the crowd, and Brits and Yanks alike pounded Colin on the back in congratulations. Someone handed a dram of whiskey to him and Henry. Colin stood up shakily, stunned disbelief on his face, looking his friend in the eye.
Henry smiled wryly, then pronounced at the top of his lungs, “Here’s to the groom, my best friend, and damn fine Scottish pilot, Domnhall Cailean MacAmhlaigh!”
With a clink of his glass against Colin’s, Henry added quietly to his friend, “Your fate is sealed,” and in one swallow poured the burning liquor down his throat.
When Louise, Abagail, and Edith, three nurses Gretchen worked closely with, began making odd comments to her during the morning shift, Gretchen thought they had all gone daft.
“Well, you sly one, you. Congratulations!” Louise jibbed.
“Yeah, and we thought all this time that it was that Yank,” Edith chimed in.
“No, instead you have to go and steal one of ours,” Abagail added.
Gretchen frowned at them and went about her work. The next time she encountered the group, they started up again.
“Go on, then, tell us,” Louise said. “Secret’s out. The guy Edith is walking out with said they were all celebrating it down at the pub.”
Edith explained. “The whole lot of them apparently got rip-roaring drunk, including, I’m sorry to say, your intended and that Yankee friend of yours.”
Gretchen was growing angry. “What in the name of Sam Hill are you talking about?”
The other nurses frowned at each other. “Who’s Sam Hill?” Edith asked.
“Go on, Gretchen,” Abagail forged on. “You can’t keep anything a secret here that hasn’t been signed off on the Official Secrets Act. Did they make you sign it? You being a Yank?”
Gretchen tried again. “Really, girls, I haven’t a clue. What, where, and who was celebrating and what’s that got to do with me?”
“Are you kidding?” Louise looked stunned. “You’re engaged, and you don’t even know it?”
Gretchen clutched the clipboard to her chest so hard it hurt.
“Engaged?” She could barely get the word out.
“Omigod, it’s a secret even to her? Isn’t that romantic?” Edith squealed.
“Romantic?” Louise snorted. “I say it’s bloody cheek of that Scottish flyboy.”
“Edith’s beau said it was your Yankee mechanic turned officer who made the big announcement,” Abagail explained. “Then he bought a round of drinks for the whole pub.”
“Henry announced it? That I was getting married?”
“Well,” Abagail said, “Edith told us he announced that Captain Mc…”
“MacAuley. Colin.”
“Yeah, that one. That he was getting married to the Yank nurse who worked at the RAF hospital. Everyone knows that’s you, Gretchen. You’re the only Yank nurse here.”
One of them got her a chair when she looked like she would collapse.
“I’m not even speaking to either of them,” she said, dazed.
“Well, no wonder, if they make the announcement before you’re even asked.” Louise mused.
“I still think it’s romantic,” Abagail piped up, sighing. “Who wouldn’t want the whole world to be drinking to your impending marriage?”
“’Twasn’t the whole world, you ninny, it was a bunch of drunken Brit and Yank flyboys.”
“What’s going on here?” The ward Matron’s voice brought them all to stiff attention, except for Gretchen, who simply stared ahead, trying to fathom this news. Henry and Colin celebrating Colin’s engagement… to her! Apparently, they had mended their friendship. Maybe just a little too well!
“I’m sorry, Matron,” Abagail babbled. “We were just congratulating Nurse Dunst on her recent engagement.”
“It appears Nurse Dunst needs consoling, not congratulating,” the older woman countered stiffly. “Back to work, and keep your personal business to yourself while on duty.”
The other three nurses scurried off to their rounds as Gretchen slowly rose to her feet.
“That order goes to you as well, Nurse Dunst,” she said, but gentler.
Gretchen realized she must’ve looked ill, for the Matron said, “Perhaps you need to take an early lunch?”
“No, no, Matron,” Gretchen said, working to bring her scattered thoughts to the job she was supposed to be doing. “I’m sorry.”
As Gretchen walked off, she muttered under her breath, “I’ll deal with them later.”
Later came much sooner than she was prepared for. That afternoon, at the end of her shift, she walked out the staff entry door, and there stood Colin, looking fit and trim, though a bit bleary-eyed. It was the sight of his cane that made her heart ache, though.
She hardly knew what to say or where to begin, so decided to say or do nothing.
“Ah, hello Gretchen.” His voice was tentative. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a spot of tea.”
Gretchen shrugged. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Is that to make up for all the whiskey you were drinking last night?” She smiled inwardly to see him cringe.
“Well, aye, tea would be a better choice right now. My haid does smart a wee bit.”
“Fine.” She turned towards a nearby tea shop, bound to be overcrowded at this time of day, but one that would require the least amount of walking. She noticed his heavy reliance on his cane, something she did not remember from New Year’s Eve.
He apparently saw her glance at his cane and said sheepishly, “I sort of… tripped on my way home and, ah… banged up my bad leg a bit. I’m usually pretty good without… with walking and only need it at the end of the day if it’s been a long one.”
“I hear yesterday was. A long one, that is.” She was beginning to enjoy this.
On entering the café, the hostess saw the decorated pilot with the cane and seated them quickly, ahead of others already waiting. Gretchen said nothing while they got settled and ordered tea and scones.
“Would you like something more substantial?” asked the waitress. “Cheese toast?”
Gretchen shook her head. “A scone is fine. With some jam,” she added. The waitress nodded and left.
Colin sat stiffly in his chair. If he thought she was going to talk first, he had something coming, she mused.
With a sigh, he folded his hands on the table and leaned forward slightly.
