Page 25 of All We Thought We Knew
Everyone except Mark turned to me.
Compassion filled Mama’s face, while Dad appeared wary of what might come out of my mouth next. The Arnolds and Mrs. McCallum each wore empathetic expressions before they whispered their goodbyes and quietly exited the house. Nash said something to Mark I couldn’t make out, then headed down the hall to Mark’s room without looking my way.
When my brother finally turned to face me, guilt filled his eyes.
“Sis,” he said. His broad shoulders sagged as he slowly moved until he stood in front of me. I searched his face, frantic to see reassurance that I’d misunderstood what I’d just heard. “I need to tell you something. Nash and I are joining the Marines tomorrow.”
I stared at him, my breath heavy with confusion. “What are you talking about? You and I are going to Vanderbilt in the fall.You’ll play football. It’s already been decided.” Anger rose in me. “Did Nash talk you into this?”
“No one talked me into it, Mattie. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I discussed the whole thing with Dad, and—”
“I knew it,” I shouted. My angry gaze landed on Dad. “You convinced him to do this. How could you encourage my brother to risk his life?”
“Mattie, stop.” Mark grasped my shoulders, silencing me. “The decision to join the Marines is mine and mine alone. It doesn’t have anything to do with anyone else. Coach Cooper and Pastor Arnold both think—”
“Everyone knows about this?” We’d been one another’s confidant for as long as we’d been alive. We never did anything without first talking it over with the other. “How could you decide this without telling me? Without asking me what I thought?”
“Because I knew what you’d say. I know how you feel about the war. But—”
“But what?” My voice reverberated off the walls.
“Mattie, please understand,” Mama said. She crossed the room and tried to take my hand, but I jerked away. “Your brother has to do what his heart tells him.”
I gaped at her. “Youwanthim to go to Vietnam? What kind of mother are you? How could you want your son to go to the opposite side of the world where he could die in a war we shouldn’t be involved in? I expected as much from Dad, but not from you.”
“Martha Ann.” Dad’s stern voice filled the room, drawing everyone’s attention. For someone who rarely had much to say, he could be quite commanding when he wanted. “You will not speak to your mother with such disrespect. This is your brother’s decision, and we will support him.” He paused. “All of us.”
Hot tears filled my eyes. It was clear everyone was against me. Mama. Dad. Nash. Even my twin brother.
I’d never felt so alone.
EIGHT:AVA
TULLAHOMA, TENNESSEE
JANUARY 1942
Camp Forrest was enormous.
I slowly drove through Gate No. 1, a heavily guarded entrance, with more nervous excitement than I’d felt in ages. Last week I received a telephone call from the woman in charge of the secretarial pool at the military installation and was offered a job working for the doctor in charge of the station hospital, Dr. Colonel Hew Foster. She’d told me to report to the hospital administration building promptly at “o-seven hundred” Monday morning. I thanked her, hung up the phone, and did a little jig. I had a job. A good job. In that moment, the future didn’t look quite as frightening as it had a month ago.
Gertrude’s unsmiling face filled my memory as I drove past the plain white building where I’d filled out the job application. She remained resentful that I’d accepted the position.
“You should be here, on your husband’s farm, helping your husband’s mother. Not gallivanting around a military base with hundreds of men.” She had sniffled. “My son’s been dead less than two months, but he’s already forgotten by his widow.”
Nothing I said changed her mind. Even this morning, with her glare following me out the kitchen door, I’d stood my ground. “We need the money, Gertrude,” I reminded her for the umpteenth time. “Richard would be proud of me.”
The slamming of the door was her response.
Now, with sunshine streaming through the windshield of my old Ford, I drove along streets alive with activity despite the early hour.
I’d received a packet of paperwork in the mail the day after I accepted the job that contained forms to sign, mostly regarding confidentiality, safety, and such. A handbook for Camp Forrest secretaries gave me an idea of what was expected—what I should wear, how to address officers, and the like. Although I’d worked in business offices in Nashville, I had a feeling working at Camp Forrest would be like entering another world.
The packet also included a map of the 85,000-acre installation and instructions on where I was allowed to go as well as areas off-limits to civilians. I’d studied the rendering of the gigantic cantonment for hours, sipping a cup of tea and making notations, praying I never accidentally ventured where I didn’t belong. What had once been Camp Peay, a small summer training facility for the Tennessee National Guard situated on a little over a thousand acres, was now one of the largest military camps in the country, thanks to the onset of Hitler’s war.
I’d learned that construction began in late 1940. Barely more than a year later, a full-fledged military base had sprung up out of the rich Tennessee farmland. The main thoroughfares were paved, but there were plenty of dirt roads and plank-board sidewalks, filled with men in uniform on foot or in military vehicles. Ipassed a tall water tower, painted with a checkerboard pattern, and remembered reading the base had its own water plant and sewage treatment facility.
I glanced at the map on the seat beside me. It had hundreds of buildings drawn in technical style, but to see them for myself took my breath. I’d always been good with numbers in school, and the staggering statistics ran through my mind: five hundred two-story barracks to house the soldiers, along with thirty officer quarters. One-hundred-plus mess halls, dozens of day halls, a library, post exchanges, chapels, theaters, warehouses, guardhouses, and even a 9,000-square-foot laundry facility where civilian women were employed. Thousands of Army-green Jeeps, trucks, and even tanks were housed in areas of the base where I was not allowed, all waiting to be shipped overseas. I’d read about acres and acres of training fields, complete with a mock German village, and a huge induction center where scores of young men like my Richard passed through every day, preparing to go to Europe.
