The Undaunted

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

It was quiet and most of the rooms were dark. Some of the men in the tents were still moving about, but she could see that a light still shone brightly in Jack's room, and in hers right above. She shook her head. Surely the men weren't still stealing more souvenirs? Marching angrily towards the front door, Jenny resolved that she might as well empty her bags on the lawn and tell them to take what they wanted. She was too tired to fight anymore.

The sight which greeted her when she opened the door to her room froze her in her tracks. There was Casey and Owens and several others in the room. So, they had come to take everything that was left. But then she realized that Casey had a broom and dustpan in his hand. Owens was tucking clean sheets onto her bed, while another GI was putting a food tray down on the table she used as a desk and yet another man stood with a dirty rag in his hand, obviously having just finished scrubbing her window. On the bed were all her uniforms, washed and pressed and folded with military precision. Jenny squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again wide.

The half a dozen men in her room saw her and stood stiffly at attention, saluting her. "Lieutenant Snow," they said in unison.

"I don't understand," she murmured in a tired voice. "What are you doing in here?"

"Tidying your room, ma'am," Owens answered.

"I can see that," Jenny said, slowly advancing into the room. "But why?"

The men looked sheepishly at one another and then Casey, face tinged red, replied. "We're all done now, Lieutenant Snow. I hope it's satisfactory." He bit his lip, looking down.

Jenny stared at them, nodding slowly as she continued walking around the room and then began examining everything they had done, from the freshly swept floors, to the meticulously washed panes of her window, to the crisply made bed with clean sheets she was quite sure she could have bounced a coin upon. Every cobweb, every speck of dust had been scrupulously removed. And the whole room smelled of lemon and beeswax. There were even fresh flowers from God knew where in an old vase next to the supper tray. She crossed her arms as she walked around the room, the men standing stiff and at attention, awaiting her verdict. She kept nodding and then stopped in front of Owens.

She saw his Adam's apple bob as he nervously swallowed, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Instead she took a page from Jack's book and raised one stern eyebrow as she stared the young, shy soldier down.

"It's exemplary," she said. "But again, why did you do this?"

None of the men answered her. Instead, they filed out, heads down, gazes fixed to the floor as if embarrassed or ashamed to meet her eyes.

Jenny's bag dropped to the ground and she placed her camera on the bed, wincing when she saw the dirty mark her hand left on the clean sheets. And that smear, for some reason, undid her. The tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed while she listened to Renee's terrible story filled her eyes now and she stood still for a long moment, swallowing hard, the ache in her throat almost insupportable. Her face crumpled and her shoulders began to shake in silent sobs.

She knew why the men had been in her room. And she knew there was at least one man in the chateau who saw past the smile and the face and the body to the things that really were inside her, who didn't think she was nothing but a silly deb, a useless model, a pretty face with a body to match. When the tightness in her throat eased, she walked down the stairs and knocked at Jack's door.

"Come in," she heard him call, faintly, as if he wasn't quite in the room.

She pushed open the door but couldn't see him. A gentle swish of white drapes caught her attention. The door to the balcony stood open and a moment later Jack appeared there beside the billowing white curtains, leaning against the doorframe. She looked beyond him and saw that a sofa had been dragged out there, taking up almost all the room.