Sentimental Journey (66 page)

That’s what bullets sounded like. Like popcorn. Firecrackers. Cap guns. They never sounded real. They never sounded like they could kill you.

He looked back.

A car with a mounted machine gun was chasing after him.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Eyes ahead, he turned it on, ratcheted up. Boots pounding the road.

Inches away, he reached for Red’s hand.

“Come on! Come on!” Red shouted.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Red’s hand closed over his wrist.

J.R. grabbed the door frame with his free hand. Then he was lying on the cold belly of the plane, his breath gone.

For just a moment, he closed his eyes. He could hear the German gunner still firing at them.
How the hell did they miss me?

Red crawled over him and headed for the rear gun.

J.R. took a breath. He rolled over and moved toward Red, who was seated at the gun mount, taking aim.

J.R. looked over Red’s shoulder.

The German armored car was a mere few feet away. The gunner was that same German lieutenant.

J.R. reached up and shoved the gun handle down. Red fired, and the bullets went into the air.

“What the hell?” Red turned.

The plane lifted off the ground.

“Just leave it,” J.R. said.

Red looked at him strangely.

J.R. shrugged. “Don’t ask. It would take more breath than I have to explain.”

Red climbed down from the gunner seat and clapped him on the shoulder. “You made it, sir!”

“Only because you were late.”

“Inskip had some trouble.”

“Let’s go.” J.R. moved toward the cockpit and climbed up. He settled into the copilot’s seat as they flew over the desert, heading for the coast. “You were late,” he said to Skip.

“Walker had a gun to my head.”

J.R. studied Skip to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t.

Red was sitting with his back against the rear wall, his long legs out in front of him. He shrugged when J.R. looked at him. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

J.R. laughed loud and hard. “You dumb fuck. That’ll get you court-martialed.”

“What the hell. I figured you’re the only thing keeping the two of us from killing each other.”

J.R. looked down as they crossed the coast and flew out over the Mediterranean. He turned to Skip. “Where are we headed?”

“From the fuel gauges, I’d say we can get to Gibraltar.” Skip nodded at the radio near Red. “But one of you had better start playing with that radio. Let them know who’s in this plane.”

Red put on the headset and began working the radio. A few minutes later he turned and said, “I can’t get anything. It’s dead.”

“Keep trying,” J.R. said.

“I’m going to take her up out of range,” Skip said, and the plane began a slow climb.

The first shell hit the wingtip.

“Get the chutes!”

The plane shuddered.

The second shell took out the engine and part of the fuselage.

“Jump! Go!”

The plane stalled. Smoke and flames filled it, then it began to fall.

Two chutes opened as it spun down toward the sea.

The third shell hit, the plane exploded.

“UNTIL TODAY”

Charley jerked open the hospital doors and pulled Kitty inside with her. The place was bedlam. There had been incendiary bombing the night before. People were lined up three deep at the information station near the front entrance. “It’s packed like sardines in here. Come this way. I’m taking you down the hall and out of the crowd. What did they say when they telephoned again?”

“A plane was shot down. They said I was listed as J.R.’s next of kin and to come down here right away. They didn’t tell me anything else. Even if he’s alive . . . nothing. I think I’m going to vomit.”

Charley slowed down, then stopped and looked at Kitty. Her face was gray-green. “Here. Sit. Put your head down on your knees for a second.”

“No, I need J.R.”

“Just for a moment. You look like you’re going to faint. Take deep breaths. Now think. Did they give you a name? Who called?”

“All that registered in my head after I heard the words ‘next of kin’ was the name of the hospital. I’m not even certain if it was the hospital or the Army who was calling. It was a man.”

“Okay, well, that isn’t going to help us. Feeling better?”

“Yes.” She sat up slowly. “We have to find him, Charley . . . please. I’m really scared.”

With Kitty in tow, Charley moved down two more hallways and into an open area. She went to the desk. A man in a doctor’s smock with a stethoscope was standing there, thumbing through a patient’s chart. Charley put her arm around Kitty’s shoulders. “This is Mrs. Cassidy. Her husband is Lt. Col. J.R. Cassidy, U.S. Army.”

“He’s actually assigned to the Office of Strategic Services, here in conjunction with the SAS,” Kitty said, driving a hand through her tangled black hair. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that.”

“I don’t think that matters, Kitty,” Charley said, turning to the man. “He’s here somewhere, we think. Someone called her but didn’t leave a name. Please. Can you help? They told her to come right away.”

He looked from her to Kitty, then said, “Wait here for a moment, please.” He walked over and talked to a nurse, who looked back at them.

Charley had a sinking feeling in her gut.

“What’s happening, Charley?”

She tried to make her voice sound normal for Kitty’s sake. “He’s talking to someone. Wait. He just waved us toward another door. Come.” She grabbed Kitty’s hand.

He pushed open a set of doors. “His doctor is down this corridor. You’ll have to speak with him. It’s the third door past the stairs. On the left.”

“Oh, Charley. This sounds bad.” She hesitated for a moment, then quietly added, “They don’t tell you anything when they’re dead.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Kitty. J.R. is okay. I don’t think they tell you anything when they’re alive, either. There have been too many mistakes made over who is missing and who’s dead. You know that.”

“I know. I’m just so scared.”

“Here we are.” Charley stopped in front of a door that was half frosted glass. She could see the shadow of someone inside and knocked. “Damn . . . We didn’t ask the doctor’s name.”

The door opened and he looked from Charley to Kitty, then said, “Mrs. Cassidy?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Lansdowne. Come in.” He picked up on Kitty’s situation immediately. “Please, Mrs. Cassidy. Over here, sit down.” He took her hand and kindly helped her to a chair in front of his desk.

“Charley?” Kitty asked.

“I’m here.”

“Come sit with me. Doctor, this is my friend, Miss Morrison.”

“Hello.” He shook her hand and waited until Charley was in the chair next to Kitty.

“Please, Doctor. Tell me he is okay,” Kitty said.

“He is alive and very lucky.”

Kitty crumpled into the chair. She began to cry and take breaths at the same time. Charley leaned over and put her arm around her.

“He’s one lucky man. He has over twenty bullet wounds in him and not one in a vital organ. He’s lost a lot of blood and is in shock, but he’ll make it.”

“Can I see him?”

“Certainly.” He stood up. “He’s resting and might still be sedated. You can stay as long as you like.”

Charley stood as he helped Kitty up. “We’ll make arrangements for you to stay with him if that’s what you want.”

“Yes,” Kitty said forcefully. “I’m not leaving until I can talk to him. I have to hear his voice. I have to touch him.”

“I understand,” Lansdowne said.

Charley and Kitty walked with him down a hall that was much quieter. There was no doubt this was the intensive-care ward.

“Do you know what happened?” Charley asked the doctor.

“He was shot down over the Mediterranean. They said it was a mistake. A terrible mistake. He was in a Luftwaffe plane. They were shot down by our own guns. Some naval gunner kept shooting at him. The fellow was only sixteen. Too young.” He shook his head. “We see it all the time. This war sends children out on the battlefields. The lad saw the enemy plane, shot it down, then saw the parachutes and kept firing like the gun was a toy.” The doctor stopped outside of a room. Ward C, Room 7. “He’s in here.” He opened the door.

Charley helped Kitty inside. The doctor followed them in and closed the door.

“How bad is it?” Kitty asked in a hoarse whisper.

Charley thought he looked like hell, but she wasn’t going to tell her that. “He’s bandaged up pretty much, arms, one hand, shoulder, chest, and head. He’s sleeping. Come here, three steps. There’s a chair by the bed.”

“I can do it.” Kitty reached out and ran her hand along the bed. “I don’t want to touch him where he’s wounded and hurt him.”

Charley placed Kitty’s hand on a spot of J.R.’s bare shoulder.

Kitty touched him lightly, then moved her hand up his neck to his cheek. She laughed nervously. “He needs a shave.” Then she covered her mouth with one hand and started crying. She sat in the chair, then took a sobering breath and ran her hands softly over his bandaged arm. Then her fingers closed over his hand. Still crying, she leaned her head against the edge of the bed for the longest time. Then she stopped, raised her head, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Kitty. My God. It’s okay.”

“I’m going to stay. I don’t care how long it takes for him to wake up. I’ll be okay.”

“Sure. I understand.”

“Thank you, Charley.” She sounded as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words.

Charley patted her shoulder. “I know.” She followed the doctor out of the room.

He closed the door. She knew Skip and J.R. worked together often and lately Red and two other men were on the same team. “How can I find out if there was anyone else on that plane?”

“I’d start with the War Office.”

“Thank you.” Charley turned. There had been a maze of hallways from the front doors to this ward. “Where’s the nearest exit? Do I have to go all the way back through to the front entrance?”

“No. Go through those doors and you’ll see an exit at the end of the hallway.”

“Thank you.” She turned and left through a set of swinging doors.

“REMEMBER ME”

He stepped out of the cab. The air smelled of smoke from the bombings the night before. Fires were still burning that morning in the warehouses on the wharves. He paid the cabbie and walked inside the hospital, spoke to a nurse and got the directions to Cassidy’s room, before he moved down corridors that smelled like antiseptic, sulfur, and heroism.