Page 38 of All We Thought We Knew
When he faced me, he said, “Take care of yourself, Mattie.”
“You too.”
Then it was time to say goodbye to Mark.
As he folded me into a fierce embrace, I couldn’t stop the tears. “I love you, Mark,” I whispered. “Please come home.”
“I love you, too, Sis. Write to me, okay?” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
I could barely watch as he hugged our parents, then kissed Paula goodbye as tears streamed down her cheeks.
He boarded the bus with one last wave.
The driver closed the door, put the big vehicle into gear, and carried away the most important person in my world.
I knew life would never be the same again.
TWELVE:GUNTHER
CAMP FORREST, TENNESSEE
FEBRUARY 1942
Gunther knew he should be grateful to have a job as an orderly in the military hospital at Camp Forrest, but there was no pride in the position. He was essentially a prisoner of war, with little choice but to comply with his captors. From the moment he was arrested, he’d tried to gain back the freedom stolen from him, but to no avail. Since arriving in Tennessee, he and the others were told they were not being held on criminal charges, but reality said otherwise.
The evidence declared they were dangerous inmates.
High barbed-wire fences surrounded the small huts where they lived, six men crammed into a space barely fit for three or four. Armed soldiers stood guard at the gate and in watchtowers twenty-four hours a day. Gunther and his fellow internees had neither the freedom to move about the camp nor access to legal help to fightfor their release. Even now, a soldier carrying a rifle walked behind Gunther, watching while he pushed the wheelchair of an injured young man to the building where the X-ray machine was housed.
The chair bumped over a rough place on the wooden walkway, causing the young man to curse.
“Watch where you’re goin’,” he said, his southern accent thick. The man glared at Gunther over his shoulder. “My leg’s already broken. I don’t need some lousy German makin’ it worse.”
Gunther clenched his jaw. “My apologies.”
He continued to push the chair forward until they reached the building. The ramp to the door was steep, requiring Gunther to pull the chair up backwards. Once again, the wheels hit an uneven plank.
“I don’t know why the Army lets you people work on base,” the patient bellowed. Foul words followed. “Every one of you should be shipped back to Germany.”
Gunther’s grip on the handles tightened. He wished he could dump the chair over the side of the ramp with the rude soldier in it. He glanced at the armed guard. Clearly, he’d heard the cursing and callous remarks, yet even though he outranked the patient, he obviously had no plans to intervene.
When they reached the landing, Gunther shoved the chair through the door, ignoring the complaints of the young man. He parked him in the crowded waiting area and turned his back, fighting to suppress his anger.
How he longed to tell the arrogant soldier exactly what he thought of him and his fellow Americans. How the “land of the free” wasn’t free to everyone. But Gunther knew if he spoke his mind, he would likely lose his job. And although being an orderly was a menial and thankless position, it provided an escape from the barbed-wire prison.
After a minute or two, his hot anger cooled.
The insults were nothing new. Some of the guards on EllisIsland had the same opinion of Gunther as this man did. It didn’t matter to them that he’d done nothing wrong. It didn’t matter that he’d been a student, studying medicine, with the hope of becoming a doctor. A doctor who could tend to this man’s broken leg.
None of that was important to Americans like him. The only thing they knew about Gunther was that he was German. And that made him the enemy.
The main door opened, and an attractive woman entered.
Gunther recognized her as the young woman who’d bumped into him the other day. He couldn’t recall her name, but he would never forget her smile. Sadly, it had disappeared the moment she realized he was one of the German detainees. She hadn’t said anything, but he’d seen it in her hazel eyes.
Gunther watched her now as she walked to the receptionist’s desk. The two women were chatting when a nurse arrived and called for the patient with the broken leg. The woman turned, and her gaze met Gunther’s.
Her brow lifted, but after a moment, she offered a small nod, indicating she remembered him. Gunther returned the gesture.
