Shrapnel (5 page)

Another smile. I try a ‘knowing' Ronald Coleman smile of my own and back out of the store, almost knocking over a whole stand of fountain pens in the window stand by the door.

I find the library just as she said. The lady is waiting for me there. I show her the note from Michelle. She looks at it briefly, smiles, then turns back into the room. The library couldn't have more than a thousand books plus some periodicals, also what I guess one could call the ‘archives'. It's to this part she goes, pulls out three cardboard folders and comes back to the small narrow, shelf-like counter separating us. The counter is hinged so one can lift it to go in and out of the ‘library'. She unties the small string on the portfolio wrap around ties, and opens it. I know this is it, all right. I've struck gold. Somebody in the past has done beautiful topographical maps of the town and surrounding area. It even has contour lines and is all to scale. I stare appreciatively at the drawing. It is done with more loving care and skill than I could ever manage, but is exactly what I need. I smile up at the librarian.

‘Would it be all right with you if I make copies of this? My officer at the mill wants maps of the town for defence purposes.'

She looks at me and smiles. Then her face purses.

‘Yes, but you must not take these maps out of the library. It is not permitted. You would need to work on them here.'

That's fine with me. I have no desire to try making adequate copies either in the mill with that bunch of animals or out in the field.

‘Would it really be possible, Madame? If so, I'd very much appreciate it.'

She lifts the hinged counter so I can come through. She clears off a library-type table of some books.

‘Would this be a large enough place for you to work?'

I assure her it's more than I can possibly expect. She moves the folders onto one corner of the table and I spread my portfolio with my equipment.

I work the rest of the afternoon without interruption. Virtually no one comes into the library. It might be public but the public doesn't seem to know about it, use it. In America I'd figure it for a ‘bookie' joint or a tax dodge of some kind.

The other maps are just as good as the first. One set shows all the various activities in the
different buildings and the dates of construction. The other set shows the name of each person or organisation in every building as well as an indication of the type of surface on each of the roads or paths.

I decide to combine all three maps into one. With my overlays it's no big deal at all. With tracing paper, I make my first copy, then use this to make an ink ‘original'. With this kind of work I'll really have something to show when I finish. I can spread this job out for weeks, that is, if we stay around that long. Maybe I'll even do such a beautiful set of maps I'll be assigned out of I&R into S2 proper, or even up to G2. That thought alone is enough to keep me working.

It's after five thirty on the big wooden wall clock when the librarian says she must close. She says it in such a way I feel she thinks she's interfering with the war effort by throwing me out. She hasn't come near me all day. Maybe she's afraid she'll see something secret she shouldn't see.

‘Would it be all right if I left my drawings here in the library?'

‘Certainly, do you think they would be quite safe?'

‘It would be most convenient for me. Could you
tell me what time you will be open tomorrow?'

She repeats a well-rehearsed, oft given, answer.

‘We are open from nine to twelve and two to six every day, except Sunday. On Saturday we stay open all day from nine to six. Sundays we are closed. But, if you prefer, you may come here to work any time you want. I shall give Michelle Henderson the keys and she can let you in.'

This is getting better than I could have dreamed. Ronald Coleman would be proud of me. I take along some of the tracings I've done so I can show them to Taylor if he asks what I've been doing. I decide to keep the sketch from outside town for myself.

So it goes. Every day I go to work on that nice little library table. I really feel out of the army. I'm getting some terrific information and drawings. I couldn't
be
more inconspicuous. I don't think three people in town even know I'm doing any drawings. But Michelle still doesn't come around. I stop by the store once to buy some India ink but only her mother is there. She's nice to me, but I figure it's best not to ask about Michelle. She gives me my ink without checking to see if it's dry but when I get to the library it's perfectly okay. I was hoping for an excuse to go back.

In the mill, everybody's wondering where I've
been, what I've been doing. They've made new mattresses from straw and burlap. Those guys are going stir crazy. There are about ten thousand rumours swirling around about what's going to happen. There are full days of close order drill, rifle practice and bayonet practice going on in the courtyard. Boy did I luck out.

Then Sunday comes. But, naturally, the stationery store is closed. I'm just turning around when the window over the store front opens and there's Michelle leaning over the sill. She holds out the key.

‘I'll be right down. Mama is off to church.'

She comes down a flight of steps similar to those leading up to the library. She looks even more beautiful, not dressed in the sort of apron she wears in the shop. I try not to stare. She looks away from me, and we start up the street. It's amazing how quiet a little town in the Midlands can be on Sunday during a war.

She leads me up the stairs to the library and lets me go in first. I'm afraid for a moment she won't come in but she does, and locks the door behind her.

‘Let me see what you have been doing all this time. Mama says you came to buy more ink when I was not there, so you must be doing something,
or else you spilled it.'

I open and show her my combination maps. They are something of which I'm proud. She leans over them and I come up beside her. She has a smell of strong soap and no perfume. She seems so fragile, so beautiful to me; but then I guess anything female would have seemed so to me right then.

She must feel me leaning over her because she suddenly straightens up. She looks at me.

‘Roger would really appreciate this. He is our school master and was asked to make all these maps two years ago before he went away. He hated making them, insisted he was a literary scholar and not some kind of artist. It is his mother who runs our library you see and these are all his books. It was his idea; he wanted the town and his former students to have access to a library easily, without having to go all the way to Congleton or Hanley. He loved reading and was such a fine person.'

So I've been told where I stand. It's a challenge even for Ronald Coleman. Nothing like this happened in the movie, but then, before I can move she looks me in the eye. I smile back at her. It's some kind of mind reading act. She must know I only came over to the store as an excuse to see
her. My ‘Ronald Coleman' act didn't fool her.

After about an hour's work, during which I try to tell her about the drawing I've done of the town from up on the hill, she's ready to leave. As she is about to go she turns back.

‘Up there where you made your drawing, there is the best view around, and it is a lovely day, perhaps we could take a little picnic together.'

I nod, stupidly, very un-Ronald Coleman-like and we smile. She says she'll pack us a little to eat in a picnic basket and agrees to meet at the sheep gate by eleven o'clock. Her mother will be coming home by twelve thirty.

Well, I don't get much work done the rest of that morning. I'm watching the clock on the wall and sometimes it seems to be stuck. But finally, eleven arrives. The minute hands have been jumping in tiny clicks until they are at five minutes to eleven and I'm free. I lock up the library and head toward the sheep gate, trying not to hurry or run. Ronald Coleman would stride down the street very confident in himself. I am not.

She's already there. She's wearing the same clothes as this morning except for a blue green shawl over her shoulders. She smiles when she sees me and looks in all directions.

‘I was afraid you would not come. I was so
frightened, I almost did not come myself.'

‘How could I not come? I watched the clock all morning.' We're both somewhat embarrassed. On top of the hill, Violet spreads out a blanket for our table cloth. She makes sandwiches from brown bread and a soft cheese. It's so great not to be eating GI food.

I pull out the first drawing I made, and she's most appreciative, pointing out different houses and saying who lives in them. We're more or less leaning against each other as we huddle over the drawing. Maybe war is worth it. I'd never have gotten to meet Violet.

After we've eaten and put things back in the basket, Violet looks at me, my heart almost stops. Our eyes can't escape. She puts out her hand. I cover it with mine. She starts, stops, then starts again. There are tears in her eyes.

‘William, there is something I must tell you.'

She takes a deep breath.

‘The man who made those drawings, Roger, is the man I am going to marry. We are not officially engaged because in my mother's eyes I am too young, but we have promised ourselves to marry when he comes back.'

She stops, looks down, away from my eyes, then looks up again.

‘I am sorry, William. I thought you ought to know. I enjoy your company very much and feel strongly toward you. I will miss you terribly when you are gone, but I do love Roger, you can see from his maps he is such a wonderful person.'

I'm sure Ronald Coleman would know exactly what to do, but I definitely don't. I sit there quietly. I can't look into her eyes or I'll cry. She reaches into the bottom of her picnic basket and pulls out a small sealed envelope.

“William, here is the address of a very good girlfriend of mine. She will give me any letters you send. I promise to write back. Is that all right?”

There's no way I can say ‘no it isn't'. I promise. I tell her I'll write her from wherever I am.

She stands and I stand with her. We walk back to the sheep gate. We don't talk. At the gate, we stop and stare for a long moment into each other's eyes. Each of us is on the edge of tears. I'm embarrassed. What kind of Ronald Coleman am I? I don't ever remember him crying in any film. She hands me the envelope and runs away up the hill. I stand watching her.

We're shipped out to the coast two days later. I never see Violet again. I don't finish the maps; I turn them in to Major Love. I'm sure they don't mean anything any more to anybody.

I don't write to her and she doesn't write to me. I have no real address to give her and I've lost her envelope with the address of her girlfriend. Much later I receive a short note through Regimental Headquarters from Violet with no return address. Roger has been killed in the air war over Britain. She doesn't want to live. She's happy she knew me for our brief time. Still I can't write. I tear everything apart looking for that envelope with the letter but it's gone. I've lost the address. In a war it is difficult to hold onto personal things.

We left Biddulph just as quickly and silently as we arrived. We hadn't been there a month when the order to move out came through. It was two days of getting everything in order and we left in the night on trains again. We all knew, in general, what we were going to do but none of us knew when or where, not even field officers knew as well as all the non-coms and enlisted men being kept in the dark. And when we arrived, we were literally in the dark. There didn't seem to be any moon and the clouds made it even darker. We get out of the trains, and, of course, are told to pitch tents. Pitching tents in the dark on an open field is a good trick. I'm tenting with Gettinger, who has taken Corbeil's place. He makes a good tent mate, doesn't snore or roll around too much. Also,
he's one of those rare people who seem to fall asleep as soon as they stretch out. I'm definitely not that way, but I try not to twist and turn. A pup tent is a very small place for two grown men. Luckily neither Gettinger nor I is very big.

Three days after we arrive, we start beach landing maneouvres with the Landing Ship Infantry, called LSI and the Landing Ship Tanks, called LST. It's the beginning of summer but in England it's still cold and the water is icy. We slog through that cold water, looking out at the white cliffs above the beaches, trying to keep our rifles dry and hoping that France doesn't have any cliffs like those. Getting our clothes dry each day is another problem. Half the time it's raining. We only have two pair of OD trousers and shirts plus our field jackets. As far as I can see, we are all going to have pneumonia before the Germans even have a chance to shoot at us. It's strange to be camping so close to the enemy and having it be so quiet. At night we can hear the planes flying over and there are huge balloons all along the coast. It doesn't look as if anybody is really trying to keep a secret about what's going on, except from us.

Now begins an experience that I not only didn't tell my children, but I've told no one but my wife. In this particular set of events, I not only behave
like the young fool I was, but I'm set up with a situation which is so incredible, I didn't believe it then or even understand it now.

It all starts with a command car rolling through our little tent city just after chow. I'm finishing up some fruit cocktail dumped over the last bit of my mashed potatoes and hash. There's too long a line at the clean up pail to wait around again. It all comes together in my stomach anyway. I'll clean up my mess kit after everybody's finished.

It seems the Lieutenant in the command car driven by a Staff Sergeant is looking for
me
. I don't know what to expect, maybe they've changed their minds about sending a cripple with varicose veins in his balls and a lump on his heel into combat. I couldn't have been more wrong.

It's the first time I've been in a command car. They're certainly a lot roomier than a jeep. I have the entire back seat to myself. I wave to Gettinger and some other guys as I roll along, weaving our way through the tents. They don't wave back, only stare.

We go about three miles, always away from the beach. It's looking good. Then we come to a big house. There are armed guards all around this place, even up the pebble driveway to the front. We stop. The Lieutenant motions me to
follow him. Now I'm worried. What could they have possibly cooked up for me. I hope it isn't a court martial for something I've overlooked. No, it wouldn't be something small like that. This is big.

I've just gotten out of the command car when I realise I've forgotten my rifle; I was eating when they came. At least I have on my helmet. We're supposed to wear those heavy pots on our heads no matter what we're doing; even in the tent, we're supposed to keep them near our heads when we sleep.

I follow the Lieutenant into the house. It's a regular house with furniture and rugs, actually a very fancy place to be in the middle of a war. The Lieutenant still hasn't said a word to me. It isn't a good idea to start up a conversation with a Lieutenant, so I don't, that's his job.

Finally we go into a big room. I can see it was once a library. There are books all along the walls. Huge windows going down to the floor are blacked out. It's still light outside but the lights are turned on in here. The Lieutenant shows me where to sit in a chair along the wall and then leaves. There are three officers around a huge desk in the middle of the room. They're all looking down at something. At first, I can't see
it, but then one of them motions me forward. I stand at attention and salute. He gives me a careless salute back.

‘At ease, Soldier.'

I go into my personal version of ‘at ease.' I peek down at the desk. What they're looking at are my drawings of the maps I did in Biddulph. What now? Are we going to invade England? I'm beginning to be scared because I don't understand.

‘Soldier, you're the one who did the maps for the town of Biddulph here?'

It's definitely a question. I nod, then pull myself together.

‘Yes, Sir. They were ordered by Major Love.'

I'm wondering if they've found out how I copied them from the maps in the library. Could that be some kind of military offence?

‘These are very good maps. I see from your records you've also been exceptionally good using the 506 radio and can take Morse code. Is that correct?'

What are we getting at. Maybe I'll be transferred to G2 doing some kind of secret work.

‘Yes Sir. In high school, in a class before school, I learned it. We did it in the typing room and typed out messages from records. I wasn't particularly good at it, but neither was anyone else.'

‘It says here you typed at sixty-two words per minute and took code even faster than that.'

I don't really remember. I took the class for fun because our bus always arrived early and the principal of our school would set up anything to help the ‘war effort'. They don't need to know that.

‘That's right, Sir. I don't know how fast I could do it now because I haven't had much practice.'

‘That's all right.'

He pauses, starts talking to the officer beside him. It's then I notice he's a bird colonel, the same as our Regimental Commander, but I've never seen him before. He turns back to me.

‘Soldier, you're also in Regimental Intelligence and Reconnaissance and you have had jump training at Fort Benning. Is that right?'

He has to know this. It's in my service record and I can see it on the desk right beside the map. I decide to keep my mouth shut. The rule we've been told is when we've been captured we give only our name, rank and serial number. I've been captured here all right. Maybe these are Nazi spies who have gotten hold of US equipment and uniforms. I decide that's ridiculous. They wouldn't call me in. But then, I've already seen some ridiculous things in the army.

‘We have a mission for you, Soldier, a special
kind of patrol. Your record as a patrol leader is also good.'

I wait, my heart literally in my mouth. How can we have a patrol when we aren't even in combat yet?

‘This mission must remain top secret, Soldier. You're not to mention it to anyone. Don't talk about it to any of the members in your regiment. Do you understand me?'

I don't, really, but I nod my head.

‘It is a very important mission. We can't force you to do it, but you are the best candidate.'

Now, he has my attention full out. I try not to keep my mouth from opening.

‘There will be three different invasions going up those beaches over there. One is the American, then the British and the other, Canadian. We'll all be going in at the same time in very close formation, wave after wave. Do you understand?'

I do, but I don't want to. This is not something they should be telling a mere PFC. Crazy as the army is, this is too much.

‘We want to drop you by parachute behind the main German defences. There is something of no-man's land there. The rest of the German defensive forces have been driven back by our long range artillery.'

He pauses. I wait for him to go on. This all sounds like a very poor movie. Where's Van Johnson, John Wayne? All 4F, I guess. They know how to do these things. I just stand there waiting.

‘Are you willing to serve your country, young man?'

What would happen if I say no? But I say yes, a small, almost inaudible, ‘yes'.

‘Congratulations. If you succeed I shall see to it that you are awarded at least a silver star. Do you understand?'

He's staring me in the eyes again. That almost inaudible ‘yes' must have tipped him off. I didn't even say Sir.

He looks over his shoulder. He nods one of the other officers forward.

‘Major McGeehan here will explain the patrol to you. If you don't think you can do it, you can always back out. Nobody will hold it against you. Got that, Soldier?'

I got it all right, basically no way out. I stand there as Major McGeehan rolls out some other maps over mine. He motions me forward. I come and look down at the maps. They're not as good as mine, but then, after all, I cheated.

‘You see we're here. The British are there and the Canadians are there. When we have some
reasonable weather and the supreme commander gives the word, we take off for these beaches here.'

He points with his fingers to the coast of France. I don't really know one part of France from the other, no one's mentioned it.

I only nod. He doesn't look up. He starts making arcs with his fingers on the maps.

‘These are the general areas of penetration for each group but you don't want to know too much detail. You might be captured and we want the enemy to know as little as possible.'

I'm wondering how those Germans can capture me. Are they about to invade England? Nobody's said anything about that. We aren't even dug in, just splashing around in the water, sleeping in wet clothes and being miserable. Only then I realise they're going to capture me in France! I'm ready to quit.

‘You will be driven from here to a small airfield not far away. From there in the dead of night, actually early morning, you will be flown over the Channel.'

He points out the so called no-man's land, then pulls out another map. It's a photographic blow up.

‘This was taken by our aerial reconnaissance team. You can see there's a large tree which was blown down here in our artillery barrage.'

He points to a blurred smudge on the map. I peer. What's this got to do with anything?

‘A small plane will drop you with a black parachute near this tree in the dark.'

He smiles at me as if he's a magician who has just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

‘You will be carrying a combat pack filled with K rations, enough for several days. On your chest will be strapped a radio well padded for the impact of landing. Of course you will also have the parachute which will be hanging low. On your webbing belt will be a small pistol.'

So, with this pistol I'm supposed to fight off the entire German army? How can I get out of this? I don't really want to be a hero; in fact I'm not sure we should even win this war. I'm willing to learn German.

‘You must be very careful with your landing. You must land on your back holding your arms around the radio. The radio is the most important thing.'

I look at him to see if he's kidding. He isn't.

‘Then after you've landed, and you're okay, you gather in the chute and dash to the shelter in the roots of this tree. This will need to be done quickly because there's a chance someone might have seen you coming down.'

He's serious. I can't believe it. He's got the wrong guy. They must have made a terrible mistake.

‘You're to spread out the chute in the hole left by the roots. Cover yourself with the parachute as night camouflage and get the radio operating. Try to make contact with us or our allies. Warrant Officer Mullen will tell you which frequencies to search.'

He stops, looks at me again.

‘Any questions?'

‘How do I get out of there, and when?'

‘There will be French Freedom Fighters, “Les Maquis”, with whom we are in contact who will be watching for you. They know where you're being dropped and they'll help you if the invasion is delayed for any reason.'

‘What am I supposed to be doing there? I still don't understand.'

‘You have several missions. At first, you will be trying to get in contact with the British and the Canadians, as well as the Americans to assure them that they won't veer and begin shooting at each other in the dark. There is always that possibility in a situation such as this. Next, as soon as possible, you will deliver the radio to the French. They know what to do with it. They'll take care of you and help you get out. Don't worry, Warrant Officer
Mullen will explain all this in more detail to you.'

He stops, looks at his watch, his job is finished, I'm totally confused. He leans across the desk and shakes my hand.

‘Good luck, Soldier. The driver is outside and will take you back to your outfit so you can gather up your things. You won't need your helmet, rifle, bayonet or any M1 ammunition. Warrant Office Mullens will provide you with all you will need. Remember, you're not to say a word about anything you've heard here, or about your mission. We're counting on you.'

On some kind of cue, the driver comes in to pick me up. The Lieutenant isn't in the command car. I sit up front with the Sergeant and go over in my mind all that's happened in the past hour or two. I almost begin to think I'm going crazy, or this is some kind of joke and tomorrow everybody will have a big laugh out of it.

We arrive at our tent city and he drives off. We haven't spoken a word. I come back to my tent and it's almost dark. Gettinger wants to know what it's all about.

‘Stan, if I told you, you wouldn't believe it. I can hardly believe it myself. Don't ask too many questions. My head is spinning so I have a headache.' He rolls over, and, as usual, is directly asleep. I pack
my few things in my duffel bag and deliver them to the kitchen truck. I'll leave my shelter half, pole and pegs with Stan. I feel like a husband sneaking out of a marriage, but with no lover to greet me.