The Wings of Morning (14 page)

“I have some soft cheese.”

He shook his head. Lyyndaya scrabbled through her basket, looking for something that might appeal to him. She came upon fruit wrapped in a towel.

“I have cherries, old cherries, but they are still—”

“Yes, please. I would like that.”

She gave him the cherries and he began to pop them into his mouth and slowly spit out the pits.

“Very nice,” he said with his first smile. “Thank you, it’s so good to taste something.”

“And there are apples. The Jonathan, the McIntosh, and that new Cortland you like so much.”

“Ah. You’re wonderful. A Cortland would be—” He closed his eyes and his head fell sideways. Lyyndaya thought he was going to pass out. Then he sat up and blinked. “I’m sorry, I probably needed a few more hours sleep.”

“What time were you up?”

“Two or three.”

“Why?”

“They needed the latrines cleaned out—all of them—so they got Hosea and Jacob and me out of bed—”

“Why couldn’t the others help?”

Jude laughed quietly, turning the idea over in his mind. “Because—they had David and Samuel and Jonathan digging new ones at midnight—”

Lyyndaya felt the familiar tingling of blood rising to her face. “They can’t treat you like this. You’re not cowards. It’s our faith, our beliefs, we do not take a human life, do not go to war—”

She turned on the officer, who was watching Pastor Miller offer his son honey from a small wooden box.

“You can’t treat them like this,” she almost shouted. “They are Americans. You should be proud of them.”

The officer looked at her in amazement. “Proud of them? For
what
?”

Lyyndaya clenched her fists. “The rest of you go like sheep to the slaughter. These are the ones with the courage to have minds of their own. To think for themselves. Not to blindly follow the pack. Isn’t that American, yes? To make your own path, follow your own vision, to do what is different? Why do you punish them for being what you say you fight to preserve?”

The lieutenant was caught without words. “I—we—do not punish anyone here. They are merely detained. We ask them to help us keep the camp clean—”

“If they were the cowards you take them to be,” Lyyndaya continued, walking toward him, “then why haven’t they caved in to your demands? Why haven’t they told you,
Yes, enough, give us a rifle, send us on the boat to Europe, we will do your dirty work in France for you?
If they are so craven as you imagine, why haven’t they given in to you long ago?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do!” She stood directly in front of him. “You’ve been trying to break them and you find they are not so easily broken, yes? Doesn’t that indicate manhood to you? Is it not the very expression of bravery?”

The tall weighty man with the club laughed and began to clap his hands. “My lady, you have a golden tongue.”

The lieutenant shot the soldier an angry glance. “That will do, Sergeant.”

“You must admit, sir, that she gives a good account of herself and the Amish.”

The lieutenant fumbled in one of his pants pockets for a watch. He showed it to Lyyndaya. “I said an hour. No more. You have thirty-five minutes left.” He placed the watch back in a different pocket. “Don’t waste it arguing with me. Your men are not mistreated.”

Lyyndaya stalked back to Jude’s side where Emma was now fussing over him with Hosea at her other side. Her brother tried to smile his slow lopsided grin at her, but he couldn’t turn up the corners of his mouth. She put a hand briefly on his cheek.

“Don’t smile to please me, Hosea,” she said quietly. “I can see how it hurts. How is it with you?”

“I pray for our return to Paradise.”

“As we all do.”

“Do you happen to have a bit of—soft cheese?”

She smiled. “I do.” She reached over into her basket that sat near them on the long table. “Here. Have it all.”

“What about Jude?”

“No, he’s not interested. His stomach is upset.”

Hosea sat chewing carefully, trying to move his mouth as little as possible. “Yes, it is always that way with him since we’ve come here.”

“Don’t they ever bring a doctor in to see any of you?”

“Twice. He always says we need more fresh air and exercise.”

“Do they give you that?”

Hosea laughed and winced, putting a hand to one of the cuts near his lips. “Don’t do that, Lyyndy. I can’t afford to hear a joke. It hurts too much.”

She looked at him with wide green eyes. “What did I say that was funny?”

“Fresh air. Exercise. We’re always outside cleaning up latrines or digging ditches or burning garbage. Or mucking out the stables. It’s rare to see four walls around us except for meals and a few hours of sleep.”

Upon hearing this, Lyyndaya glared at the lieutenant again. The officer deliberately turned his back on her. The sergeant with the club winked. She kept staring at the officer, knowing he continued to feel her eyes on him, like hot pins.

“So am I to believe the lieutenant,” she asked Hosea, “when he says you are not treated poorly?”

“Oh,” Hosea gasped, pushing another piece of yellow cheese cautiously into his mouth, “he doesn’t know a thing that goes on with us. He’s just here for show. Remember that corporal who was with the group that picked us up in Paradise? He’s the one who cracks the whip.”

“Where is he?”

“You won’t see him. He’ll drop out of the sky the moment you’re gone.”

“Lyyndy.” Emma turned to her. “Don’t you think Jude’s looking better already? I can’t get enough of Mother’s yogurt into him.”

Lyyndaya looked over Emma’s tall shoulder at Jude. He was spooning the fresh white yogurt into his mouth like someone who hadn’t eaten in days.

“I did not know you favored the yogurt so much, Master Whetstone,” Lyyndaya said.

“I can’t describe how it cools my stomach,” he offered.

“I’m glad to see it. Emma is right. At least now you have some color in your cheeks. You could do with a good night’s rest as well and a long draught of well water.”

“That will not happen anytime soon.”

Lyyndaya turned to glare again at the lieutenant’s back.

In what seemed like only a few more minutes, the officer announced, “Your time is up. Say your goodbyes and we’ll transport you to the depot for your return trip. First, you must pack up any remaining food. Anything left will draw rats to the barracks.”

“Oh, I almost forgot this!” Lyyndaya dug down to the bottom of her basket and pulled out the wooden aeroplane. “Your father wanted you to have it. He misses you very much and is praying for you.”

Jude smiled as much as she’d seen him smile at any time during the visit. “‘Kitty Hawk.’ Look at that.” He admired the model as he held it in his hand. “I’ve had this for over ten years.” He looked up at Lyyndaya. “I see the Jennys here, you know. There’s an aerodrome nearby. It’s quite beautiful how they go by in formation. Makes me feel good. Even when I’m up to my ears in mud and shovels.”

Lyyndaya had not felt like crying once since they had arrived, but now she sensed she was about to come apart completely. “They must look like birds to you.”

“Better, Lyyndy, better. I can’t fly like a bird. But I can fly like them.” He shrugged. “Maybe again, one day, you and I—” But he did not finish his sentence.

“Time to move on, folks. Sergeant, get these men back to their work.”

“A moment, Lieutenant.” Pastor Miller approached the officer, his black hat in his hands. “We are grateful for the opportunity to visit our sons. There are some concerns and some questions, but these we will take up with others in higher places than you occupy. I would like to pray before we leave.”

“Pray?” The officer stared at him.

“Are you yourself not part of any religious group?”

“Uh—” The lieutenant glanced at the sergeant. “My parents—I was raised Methodist—”

“Then you will welcome our request to pray for our boys here. And not just our boys, but all who are at this camp, all who are already across the ocean in Europe.”

The officer inclined his head. “Of course. If you will go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Pastor Miller refrained from praying in German. Instead, after a moment’s silence, he spoke slowly in English. “Protect, our Father who art in heaven, the women, the children, the men. Safeguard, our Lord, the horses and cattle, the farms, the crops. Bless in such a way as removes the sting of the curse man brings upon your earth. May the warring countries come gladly to the table of peace. Heal the land. Heal the human heart. We ask in Jesus Christ our Savior.”

When he closed with an “amen,” the lieutenant nodded at the sergeant, who began to move the six young men toward the door. But he did it gently, Lyyndaya noticed, pushing no one, barking no commands, taking his time, letting Mrs. Harshberger kiss her son a final time, allowing Mr. Hostetler to finish placing fresh bandages on his son’s wounded hands and hug him goodbye. He saw the plane in Jude’s hand, but only looked at it and said nothing, nor did he force Jude to move any more quickly than he could through the doorway. Jude glanced back at Lyyndaya and Emma and offered them a small wave. Then the door shut behind the sergeant.

The officer accompanied them to the second gate and then jumped out of the car that carried the men and waved both vehicles on. He would not meet Lyyndaya’s eyes.

At the station, Pastor Miller patted her on the shoulder and said, “You have fire and I do not say it is wrong. Plenty of people in the Holy Bible had this fire. But you must keep a tight rein on it,
ja
? Just as we keep a spirited horse from bolting with a firm grip. By no means do we wish to break the horse’s spirit. Yet if we do not have control it will run wild and injure itself and others.”

Emma cried off and on as they traveled back to Paradise. Eventually, tall as she was, she curled herself up like a small pretzel and fell asleep at Lyyndaya’s side. Lyyndaya put one arm around her as she began to breathe deeply.
Poor sweet thing
, thought Lyyndaya.
God bless you, God bless us both. There is no rivalry for Jude here. We are sisters in the Lord
.

She leaned her head against Emma’s. The rocking of the train had a lulling effect. An image of the tall sergeant’s stern face filled her mind. She began to pray for him just before she dropped off.

S
omething had awakened Jude. He lay in the dark and listened to Jonathan Harshberger snoring. That was Jonathan’s way—he could ignore pain and humiliation and drop to sleep in an oven or on a cake of ice and awake again in a kind of innocence that forgot and forgave the abuses of the day before. There were no other sounds. It was still too early for the corporal to come raging into the barracks and tell them to grab their shovels and run to the latrines. Or to get down on the floor and do fifty push-ups. Or march back and forth in the cold dawn without their shirts. The one barred window brought only blackness into the room.

Then a hand went over his mouth and a rough voice whispered in his ear. “Say nothing. Do not wake the others. Throw on your clothes and follow me.”

It was the tall sergeant.
What devilry does he have in store for me?
worried Jude as he got out of his bunk and pulled on his pants and shirt. He followed the large figure out of the barracks and across to the mess hall, the stars sharp over their heads. Inside the mess a lantern had been placed on one of the tables. The sergeant sat there and gestured with his hand for Jude to do the same.

“The corporal will be waking you all in an hour,” the sergeant said, his face yellow in the light of the lantern’s flame. “It will go hard with you. Sometimes, as you know, I have ordered him to let up.”

Jude nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“But I am being transferred to another base. The others who outrank the corporal will not be so…lenient. They’ll look the other way like most of them have been doing since you were brought here in September.” He leaned forward across the table. “We were taught to despise you before you even arrived, you and all the others who will not fight—Mennonites, Quakers, whichever group. But those of you with a German background we were told to deal with using an especially heavy hand. Most of the army not only think of you as traitors, but likely spies. I thought that way too.”