Battle Hymns (14 page)

“I’m not hungry.”

Natalie’s expression fell. “Right. I understand.” She
sat on the edge of Charlotte’s bed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there on
Friday.”

Charlotte scowled. “And I’m sorry Nick’s funeral
doesn’t work with your schedule.”

“I tried to switch my ticket, I swear.”

Charlotte said nothing.

“Anyway, call if you need me or if you want to talk.
I don’t care what time it is, I’ll be available.” She reached out
for a hug, and Charlotte embraced her half-heartedly. “You’ll pull
through this. I know you will.”

Charlotte faked a smile. “Thanks.”

Natalie stood from the bed and adjusted her long wool
skirt. “Well, I guess I’ll head to Union Station early and get some
lunch at the cafeteria.” She closed her valise and held it at her
side. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Charlotte muttered.

Eighteen

F
riday, the eighteenth of
December was the date Nicholas James Adler was laid to rest. The
sky was overcast, and a frigid wind whistled through the bare trees
at Arlington National Cemetery. An American flag flew at half-mast
on a building in the distance, memorializing the military funerals
that would be performed throughout the day.

Charlotte stood beside her mother, inspecting the
dozen of soldiers who would orchestrate the funeral proceedings. As
soon as she’d arrived, Charlotte spotted Frankie, her friend from
the Army Medical Center and Sandra’s new beau. He’d grimaced when
he noticed her, but that was all. He was on duty and stood at
attention, so he couldn’t speak to her. Not that he could’ve said
anything to make her feel better.

The funeral was private, aside from the soldiers.
Mrs. Adler wore a black hat with a veil. She leaned on Mr. Adler
for support as she sniffled into a handkerchief. The only other
attendees were the Adlers’ priest and Charlotte’s mother.

The hearse arrived and an attendant opened the back
door. The casket had an American flag draped over the top. Eight of
the soldiers marched to the hearse, removed the casket, carried it
to the black horse-drawn carriage, and placed it on the back. A few
of the officers saluted, and the priest led the procession of the
caisson, soldiers, and loved ones to the gravesite.

“Are you cold? I can give you my scarf,” her mother
whispered into her ear as they walked behind the carriage.
Charlotte shook her head. She liked that the wind numbed her body.
It might make the ceremony less painful.

She kept her eyes trained on the casket. Nick was
inside, or at least, what used to be Nick. His soul was in a better
place. She took some comfort in that.

It wasn’t a long trek to the ceremony location. The
horses pulling the caisson stopped, and the pallbearers lifted the
casket and escorted it to the gravesite. Nick’s parents, Charlotte,
and her mother sat in the handful of chairs situated graveside. The
soldiers placed the casket on the liner and lifted the flag,
holding it taut. A senior officer assured it was centered, and the
flag was replaced on Nick’s casket, the blue section with white
stars covering his left shoulder. The casket team marched back into
formation. The priest stepped forward and the service began.

The priest bowed his head and crossed his hands while
holding a copy of the Holy Bible. “Our brother, Nicholas, has gone
to rest in the peace of Christ. With faith and hope in eternal
life, let us assist him with our prayers.”

Charlotte closed her eyes. Tears escaped the
corners.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She and Nick were
supposed to be happily together for the rest of their lives. Of
course the time would eventually come for funerals, but decades
from now, not before they even started their life together.

“We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.” The
priest concluded the prayer.

The senior officer stood beside the casket and turned
toward the seven soldiers who stood in a line about fifteen feet
away. “Attention,” the officer instructed them. “Ready, aim, fire.”
One shot rang out as they fired volleys into the air.

“Aim, fire.”

Another shot was fired.

“Aim, fire.”

The third and last shot echoed in the distance.

The soldiers returned to their stance, and a bugler
held up his instrument. He played the eloquent and haunting melody
of “Taps,” chilling Charlotte to the bone even more than the bitter
wind that blew back her hair and ruffled her clothes.

The casket team returned to the casket and folded the
flag into a neat triangle. The leader passed it to the senior
officer, both of them saluting during the relay. The soldiers
returned to formation and marched away from the graveside. The
senior officer then relayed the flag to the priest, who presented
it to Mr. Adler.

The service’s end was announced. Mr. and Mrs. Adler
stood, and Charlotte offered them meek condolences.

Mrs. Adler kissed her forehead. “Please visit,” she
whispered shakily. “You’re still like family . . .
my only child now.”

“I promise I’ll visit soon.”

Good-byes were exchanged between Nick’s parents and
Charlotte’s mother. Mr. and Mrs. Adler made their way toward the
cemetery exit, clutching each other for support.

“Let’s go, Charlotte.” Her mother took Charlotte’s
arm and ushered her away from the gravesite.

“One minute.” Charlotte pulled back her arm and made
her way toward the casket. It looked bare now, without the flag and
decorated soldiers surrounding it. She placed her hand at the top,
feeling the polished wood beneath her fingertips. It was only his
body inside. It wasn’t him. Nevertheless, she whispered her
good-byes.

“I love you . . . I still do. I always
will.” She kneeled onto the cold liner. “I suppose you’ve lived up
to your promise to come back to me—here you are—but I wish it were
under different circumstances.” She wiped away fresh tears. “Please
know I’m so proud of you. You fought bravely, I’m sure, and you
made a sacrifice for a greater cause . . . Thank
you . . . I love you.”

Charlotte stood. Her mother waited for her at a
distance. She looked at the grave once more and read the
inscription on the white, marble headstone.

Nicholas J

Adler

Virginia

PVT

US Army

Dec 6 1942

Nineteen

B
ing Crosby’s “White
Christmas” played over the radio as Charlotte sat on the sofa and
flipped through the latest
Harper’s Bazaar
. Meanwhile, her
mother added decorations to their Christmas tree, stringing tinsel
and hanging glass ornaments. The festivities were an obvious
attempt to lift Charlotte’s spirits. But the tree ornaments and
even the first snowfall of the season didn’t improve her mood.

Her mother tried to engage her in conversation. “Have
you heard from Natalie?”

“No.” Charlotte had made no attempt to contact
Natalie since she’d left for Michigan.

“You two were so close over the last couple of years.
You were attached at the hip.”

She flipped to an article on how to look stylish
while still supporting the war effort. “Yes,
well . . . things change.”

Her mother sighed and glanced out the front window.
“Will you at least get the mail? I’m expecting a note from your
uncle.”

Charlotte placed the magazine on the side table, and
retrieved the bundle of letters from the mailbox outside their
front door. She flipped through the envelopes. There were several
letters for her parents and one large envelope for her. She didn’t
recognize the handwriting. The ink was smeared, and the corners
were worn. It looked like it’d made a long journey.

She held it to her chest and set the other letters on
the hall table.

“I’ll be upstairs,” she said to her mother. She ran
up the stairs and fled to her bedroom for privacy. After she shut
the door, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a bundle of
folded papers. At the bottom of the first page was a signature—John
Cartwright.

December 7, 1942

Dear Charlotte,

I assume by now you’ve heard the news. I wish my
letter could’ve gotten to you before an impersonal telegram, but
I’m afraid airmail takes much longer to get back to the States. I
cannot imagine the grief you must be feeling. I feel as though I
should explain the events of Nick’s death, but I can’t tell you in
a letter. I want you to understand something: Nick died honorably.
Through his death, he saved one of his friends, and I both admire
and despise him for it.

As you may have noticed, there are two more letters
enclosed in the envelope. One is the letter Nick was in the middle
of writing to you before we were called out to patrol. It’s not
finished, but I know he’d want me to send it on to you. The second
is the letter he wrote to you in the case of his death. We’ve all
written these letters to our loved ones, but we sincerely hope
these letters will eventually be burned, never to be read by anyone
other than the author. I pray to God every day that Natalie will
never read the letter I’ve written to her.

Take care of yourself, Charlotte, and Natalie, too.
I hope I’ll have the pleasure of seeing your smiling face
again.

John Cartwright

Charlotte flipped to the next page. This one was in
Nick’s handwriting.

December 6, 1942

My dearest Charlotte,

I was eating dinner earlier this evening, the usual
mush of mystery meat, potatoes, and something we’re supposed to
call “bread,” when I suddenly realized the one important thing I’ve
been missing for months. Of course, I already miss you, my parents,
the fresh sheets on my mattress, the smell of clean laundry, and
the feeling of hot, clean water in which to bathe. But I also miss
oranges. Yes, as in the fruit. I miss the feeling of digging my
nails into the orange peel. I miss the smell that comes from them
when they’re peeled, and I miss the fresh sweet taste on my tongue.
John’s looking over at me now and wondering why I have drool
hanging down my chin like an infant. When I get back, I’m ordering
an entire truck full of oranges straight from sunny Florida. They
won’t even have time to go bad at the rate I’ll be eating them.
I’ll let you help, too.

And as we’re stuffing ourselves full of oranges,
we’re going to set a wedding date—one in the near future,
hopefully. I think our engagement has been long enough already,
don’t you think? Charlotte, you have no idea how much I want to
touch you again, to feel

A sob escaped her throat. As painful as it might’ve
been, she wanted to know how much Nick wanted to touch her again,
to feel whatever it was he looked forward to. The letter made her
stomach churn. It ended as abruptly as Nick’s life, full of hope
and confidence in their future, all of it dashed by the war and his
enlistment.

With great reluctance, she unfolded the last
letter.

To the love of my life,

Charlotte, I hope you never read this, and if you
do, it’s because I didn’t have time to dispose of it before coming
home to you, and you found it somewhere. If that’s the case, burn
it immediately and chastise me for being so forgetful. However, I
know there’s a likelihood this may not be the case. I might die in
this war. If this happens, I want you to have this letter. I know
it won’t completely ease your sorrow, but perhaps it can help a
little bit.

If I am to die tomorrow, next week, next month, or
next year, my life will have been short. But with you, Charlotte,
my life has been fulfilling. I’ll be able to die a happy man after
spending those two years with you. You have loved me so much more
than I ever deserved, and I am forever grateful God allowed me to
the time I did have with you. Should I not return to you, remember
the good times we shared—the laughs, the smiles. We had fun
together, and it’d be a shame if my death were to overshadow
them.

I don’t regret joining the war. It was an inevitable
conflict, and I never would’ve been at peace with myself had I not
contributed. I once told you I was joining the war to protect you
and the life we’d share. This is still true, even if it’s not our
life together, but your life with whomever else is in your future.
And Charlotte, there will be someone else out there for you. Don’t
ever lose hope in that. You’ll be happy again.

The Second Book of Timothy says, “I have fought a
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith.” My
faith in God has not wavered, and I’m assured my actions are
justified. I am not afraid of death or what comes after. Despite
this trying time, keep your chin up and a smile on your face. I
will always love you, in this world and beyond.

Nick

Tears fell onto the pages, running the ink. Charlotte
shifted on her bed and sat against the headboard to read through it
again. Something small clinked against the hardwood floor.

She peered over the edge of the mattress, and when
she didn’t find anything unusual, she looked underneath the bed.
Nick’s gold ring had rolled into the corner. She retrieved the
ring. She held it carefully between her forefinger and thumb and
brought it nearer to the lamp to scrutinize it.

The ring had gone through a great deal—Army training
and the war abroad—and yet it was as flawless as the day she
purchased it. She slipped his ring onto the finger that also
sported her engagement ring and stared at them together. The
symbols of their commitment to each other now solely resided with
her.

Charlotte sat at her vanity table and placed Nick’s
ring in her jewelry box. Then she stared at herself in the mirror
she’d been avoiding for the past week. She hadn’t bothered with
cosmetics since the funeral, and her eyes were red and swollen from
reading Nick’s letters. A depressed appetite had made her
cheekbones sharp and angular, aging her past her twenty-one years.
Her face was more like a stranger’s than her own.