North Africa
Fall, 1942
Alongside his crew, Calvin's hands worked their magic to repair one of the U.S.S. Langford's massive guns as its nose pointed out to sea, waiting for its chance to spit fire again. It had just jammed and his captain continued barking orders over the radio for the crew to get it back to work. The Langford rarely saw much action, so this moment clapped panic onto its inhabitants with attention and fury. He was just about finished his side of things. The sweat that had been beading on his forehead was now slipping down his face steadily.
"Seaman, you got her fixed yet?" shouted his commanding officer through the crackling radio.
"Just about, sir," Calvin spoke for the rest of his crew manning the gun.
"Got it!" a guy named Cornwall shouted. The gun was back in commission.
"She's ready to fire, Captain Lloyd."
A few weeks ago, Calvin had been home patrolling the Mid-Atlantic and New England coast protecting convoys and the shoreline from impending German U-boats. Only a shot or two had been fired from his ship the entire six weeks he'd been aboard. Then they got orders to head to Norfolk, Virginia. From there, he and his shipmates were to transport several hundred men aboard their destroyer to the shores of Casablanca for an invasion. The United States and England wanted the spot and the Germans were in it. It had taken two weeks to get there, and three days for Calvin to become immersed in the reality of war. He wanted to be back home. He wanted to stay on board. He wanted to kiss his girl. He wanted to fight. He had a question to ask her. He had orders to carry out, a mission to complete, an objective to maintain. Win. Conquer. Destroy. Lord, had he become an animal? Or was he experiencing something that was merely a part of human nature? Unfortunately, sleep-rare days and nights left no time to contemplate such things. And at the moment, he had just been commanded to fire at will on the Italian light cruiser attacking them.
BOOM.
That came from him.
BOOM.
He missed his target.
BOOM.
Again.
BOOM.
Got 'em.
It was doubtful they would get him back. Small and quick, destroyers like the U.S.S. Langford were very hard to catch, but on the same token, they were also very easy to break.
Reroute.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
The men fired from the ship's guns, but it was a torpedo blasted from the Langford that finally sank their enemy. Calvin watched the flames engulf the Italian ship in the distance. That could have easily been their boat, their crew.
The chilly morning poured into a rather warm afternoon and soon dusk approached. The blasts surrounding the Langford had dissolved into different, more familiar sounds. The ship churning and thumping. The water sloshed against the bow. Safe again with no other enemies in sight, they were back on patrol. Most of the men were relieved from their duties, but Calvin lingered for a while on deck, staring out at the fading coastline as the ship moved further from shore.
"That means you, too, Wynne," said a thick-necked petty officer.
Calvin blinked and stood sharply at attention, his hand pressed to his forehead in salute. "Yes, sir."
When the petty officer had gone, Calvin closed his eyes and stretched out his weary fingers. His stomach expelled a nasty sort of growl, and he realized for the first time that day that he hadn't eaten. All of a sudden ravenous, he headed for the ship's galley.
Five minutes of climbing and walking, and he was in the middle of a slim room with tables bunched together and a little hole in the wall where the ship's cook prepared all their meals. He immediately picked up a tray and topped it with a sandwich and coffee. Though he hadn't eaten all day, it would be enough. He was tired, and he wanted to see if he could catch a nap before having to get back to his station.
Slipping into an open seat at the corner of the muggy room, he felt himself relax a bit for the first time in hours. He tasted his sandwich. Ordinary. Possibly bland, but satisfying all the same.
A couple of minutes later, Calvin spotted his friend Lionel heading over, balancing his own tray of food. By the time he sat down, half of Calvin's sandwich was in his stomach. Maybe one wouldn't be enough, but the other guys had to eat, too, so it was best to put it out of his mind. "Hey, Lionel. How's it going?"
Lionel grinned and took a long swig of coffee. "Everything's Jake, Cal. Just fine and dandy." He bit merrily into his sandwich.
Lionel was normally a cheerful guy, but the past few days had found him in a quietly anxious lull. What was with the big change in attitude? Something was up. "Out with it," said Calvin.
"Okay, you dragged it out of me," he said without a breath of hesitation.
Calvin raised his eyebrows.
"Well," said Lionel, leaning over conspiratorially, "I just heard from a reliable source that we're going to be heading home in just a few short hours."
Tension Calvin did not know he'd been holding in his shoulders lifted, and his eyes grew wide. "Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure. I wouldn't go getting your hopes up like that if I wasn't sure," said Lionel, turning his concentration fully to his sandwich as Calvin abruptly stood and picked up his tray. "Hey, where are you goin'?"
"I got a letter to write," said Calvin with a newfound grin of his own.
The Langford bounced and bumped on the angry waters. Only the sea legs of a destroyer sailor could have navigated his way down to his bunk as fast as Calvin did. He missed her so much. He had to get this letter out as soon as possible. He had a lot of things planned for them. Crouching over into his bunk, he pulled pencil and paper from his stash above his bed and began to write. There were only a few other guys in the room, some already asleep, others reading or playing cards.
"Hey, Cal," one guy named Eddie said, looking up from his girlie magazine. "You're sure in a hurry to get that pencil to paper. Not that I blame you. I'd write to her every day, too, if she was my girl," he said, coming to sit beside him. Eddie squinted at the picture that was taped to the wall beside Calvin's bed. Calvin continued to write as he felt Eddie leaning over his shoulder. "Um, Cal?"
"Yes?"
"I thought your girl's name was Teddi."
"It is."
"Then why does that say Dear Laura?"
Calvin folded his letter in half. "That would be my business and not yours."
"Hell, Cal," said Eddie, leaning back and removing Teddi's picture from the wall, "if you don't want her, I'll take her."
Throwing the letter aside, Calvin reached for Eddie's arm, but the young boatswain was too quick. "Put that down!"
"It's a shame you're steppin' out on her." He gave the picture an appreciative once over.
"In case you haven't noticed, none of us are stepping out anywhere. Now, give me back my picture," he said, snatching it away and sticking it back on the wall. He brushed his thumb along the edges of the slightly worn photograph, smiling a little before picking up his letter again. Eddie was still watching. The corner of Calvin's mouth curved up even more and without warning he began to laugh.
"You really are off your nut," said Eddie, frowning. "What is so gosh darn funny?"
Calvin shook his head, dabbing moisture from the corner of his eyes. "I was just thinking of how much this place reminds me of where I grew up."
"This ship reminds you of home? Where'd you grow up, a pirate ship?"
"No, an orphanage."
That shut Eddie up. It shut up most people. Calvin didn't know how he felt about that, but right now he didn't care. He just wanted Lionel to be right. And an hour later, he found out that he was. They were headed home.
Calvin's letter left on the mail plane the next day. It would get there before him. Maybe he'd even get a reply before they arrived back in New York. An overhaul was planned for the ship, meaning it would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Two whole weeks shore side, two whole weeks without sweat and must and cold showers, two whole weeks at home.
It scared the hell out of him.