Willow Grove Abbey (50 page)

“
Mummy, once you’d rendered him unable to do any harm” it would have been illegal to kill him.”

“Why? We’re at war with the b
astards?”

“I know
Mummy, but the rules of self-defense still apply.”

“Well he won’t
be invading any other ladies’ bedchambers, I can tell you that. I don’t think he’ll ever be able to do anything in a bedchamber, or anywhere else, ever again.”

***

On 7 December 1941 The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. It was a ghastly blow. Catching the American naval men unaware on a Sunday morning, over 3000 lives were lost, and nearly the entire American fleet as well. Following that horror, the Germans declared War on America. Of Course, America retaliated with a declaration of war against Germany and Japan. Before the beastly war was ended, the entire world would be engulfed in its madness. The declaration of war against Germany by America meant that finally the Yanks would be joining us in our fight and that England would no longer stand alone. The first of the Yanks arrived in England in January of 1942. Spence had been missing nearly eight months at that time. I had such strong hope that America’s involvement would turn the tide, and that if Spence was alive, he would return home. I was virtually convinced that he was being protected by some wonderful French family, who were a part of the Resistance. I couldn’t bear to think that he might be a prisoner of war in a German internment camp, and of course, I didn’t allow myself to believe that he was dead.

The Blitz intensified in both England and Ger
many, with the first 1000 bomber air raid on Cologne. Finally, the second half of 1942 saw a reversal of German fortunes. British forces, under Montgomery, gained the initiative in North Africa at El Alamein and Russian forces counter-attacked at Stalingrad. The news of mass murders of Jewish people by the Nazis reached the Allies, and the U.S. pledged to avenge these crimes. In February of 1943, The Germans surrendered at Stalingrad, the first major defeat of Hitler’s army. A combination of long-range aircraft, and the ‘codebreakers’ at Bletchley were inflicting enormous losses on the U-Boats. Toward the end of May, 1943 Admiral Donitz withdrew the German fleet from the contended areas. And the Battle of the Atlantic was effectively over. Allied bombers began to attack German cities in enormous daylight raids. The opening of a second front in Europe was being prepared for the following year, 1944.

During all of that ti
me. I lived my life in a daze, and only thought of Spence. It was impossible to think ahead to what my life might be like if I lost him. I couldn’t bear that thought. I knew, of course, that I would do what Spence would have wanted…get on with my life, and try to make Isabell’s life as good as it could be. But, even the thought of such an existence made me terribly anxious and fearful, and so I tried to block all such notions from my mind. One evening, in late 1943, when Spence had already been missing well over two years, I made my regular visit to the USO canteen in Bristol. I arrived there at about seven o’clock, and greeted the other girls who were either just arriving for duty, or just leaving. We had all become good friends, after such a long time doing our bit for the soldiers. I put a fresh pot of coffee on, and hung up my coat. Not far from where I stood, I noticed an RAF officer, with the same emblem on his shirt as Spence wore, which signified that they shared the same squadron. My heart speeded up as I approached the young man.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are in the sa
me squadron as my husband, “I said, and introduced myself as Mrs. Stanton.”

“
You must be his wife, Sophia,” he answered. I was completely taken aback. “I’m Captain Ian French, and I know Spence well. He’s been my wing man on several missions. Of course, I haven’t seen him since May of 1941, when we were both shot down.”

“You were both shot down
? Where? Over France? Oh my God! Was Spence still alive when you last saw him?”

“I believe he survived, yes. Unless, of course, a Jerry ca
me upon him later. Then, I suspect he would have been taken to a POW camp. His skills would make him too valuable for them to do away with him.”

“Oh, please, please tell
me everything that you know. Everything that happened to you and Spence. I’ve had no information since I learned he went missing in May of 1941. I’ve been almost mad with worry.”

He sat down in a chair, and
motioned for me to sit opposite of him. Then he began to speak. “There was a shortage of pilots. Had been for quite some time. Really, ever since Dunkirk. Spence and I both had been flying extra missions. Everyone was so confounded tired. We were getting by on almost no sleep. Yet, Spence is an excellent pilot, and I will never believe that fatigue had anything to do with his crash. We were both sent up on the same mission, to intercept German planes over France, which were headed for the coast. We spoke back and forth on the radio during the entire mission, and he seemed in fine fettle. There were many more German planes than British, so we were terribly outnumbered. Both of us knew that we would be lucky to get back home. I was hit first. The whole side of my spitfire was nothing but holes, and I had to ditch. My leg had taken a bullet too. I’d had communication with Spence just before that, and told him I was pitching it in. Shortly after I radioed my communication, he radioed back that he too had been hit. I asked him if he was all right, and he indicated that he was, and that he was preparing to parachute out. The next thing I remember is coming down into the English Channel, with my parachute open. Spence was not near me, but I had seen his parachute. I’m sure he wasn’t injured when he jumped. As fine a soldier as Spence, it’s highly unlikely that he would injure himself in a jump. He was over land when he wa hit, so I am sure he wouldn’t have landed in the water like I did.

I put on
my Mae West, and floated for about forty five minutes, and then I was picked up by a British ship and returned to England. Since he wasn’t injured, he may have tried to scout about the area, to see if there was a farm house, or a barn, or someplace where he could get out of the night air. Even though it was May, it was very cold, and damp. That’s the last I saw of him, Ma’am.”

“
My God, My God! You’ve been the first person to give me any hope. Do you believe that he could still be alive?”

“I’d al
most bet my life on it, Ma’am. Spence is one brave soldier. Plus, a smart one. If the Huns got him, and they learned he was a doctor, there’s no way that they would want to lose him. He would be too valuable to them. So, my guess is that one of two things has happened. He is either being hidden by a French family, or he has been taken prisoner, and they’re using his skills as a physician. Since it’s been such a long time, I would put my money on the latter.”

“So, you believe that he is a Prisoner of War?”

“Yes. That would be my best guess. Of course, I could be wrong. Don’t put all of your trust in what I say. But, I know Spence pretty bloody . . . pardon me, ma’am’ . . . pretty darned well, and I know he’s a survivor.”

M
y head was awhirl with this new news. Hope! I had finally been given a reason to hope. A concrete reason. I agreed with Captain French. If Spence had been captured, it seemed unlikely that they would not use his training and skills to their advantage. I poured Captain French a glass of soda, and then told him that I must excuse myself and go home to report this marvelous news to my daughter.

“That
must be Isabella,” he replied. “Spence talked about her constantly. He sure loves that little girl.”

I had tears in
my eyes. “Yes, I know he does. And she loves him so dearly. She will be thrilled to hear that he may still be with us. Thank you so much Captain French. Here, let me write down our address and telephone number. Please ring us up for anything at all. We would be glad to have you as a guest, if you get furlough, or simply come to dinner if you can. I’m so terribly grateful for the information you’ve provided.”

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you,
ma’am. I just might take you up on that, if I get a chance. At any rate, I’m glad I could be of help, and I do hope to see you again.”

With that, I quickly donned
my coat, and got on my bicycle for the ride back to
Willow Grove Abbey.
I had stopped driving my car quite a long bit ago, as petrol was so dear. It was only there in case of dire emergency. As I peddled along, my heart was soaring. “Spence is alive! Spence is Alive!” That is all I could keep saying to myself, and sometimes I even shouted it aloud. It never once crossed my mind that he wasn’t. I had a certain feeling deep inside that he was fine. That he would be coming home to us. How amazing that I had come upon Captain Ian French. Spence would definitely describe it as another ‘serendipitous’ moment. But, how long would this ungodly war keep on, and how long would it be before I could hold him in my arms again?

When I returned to
Willow Grove Abbey
, everyone was surprised to see that I had returned from the canteen so quickly, and wondered if I didn’t feel well. That was so far from the truth. I ran into the drawing room, shouting out what I’d learned about Spence and the shooting down of his plane. For once, my parents listened, and didn’t act like I was a fool for believing the best possible outcome. Isabella came running from the nursery upstairs, when she heard my voice, and we all sat in a circle while I went over word for word what Captain French had related to me. Papa agreed that the best and most likely scenario was that Spence was in a Prisoner of War camp, where the Nazi’s were utilizing his medical skills. This new information gave us all more hope, and lightened the atmosphere in the house enormously.

Interestingly, al
most overnight, Isabella’s lisp cleared up. She just suddenly began to speak using the proper pronunciation for words with an “S” in them. The doctor thought that the lessening of the anxiety she had been carrying about her father had helped her to get beyond an infantile stage of development. Of course I was happy to have her speaking in a more adult manner, although I have to admit that I missed that sweet lisp.

And so, Life continued on, but with
more hope, and a different sort of waiting. On June 6, 1944
Operation Overlord
got underway. It was what we had all been waiting for. Some 6,500 vessels landed over 130,000 Allied forces on five Normandy beaches codenamed Omaha, Utah, Gold, Juneau and Sword. Some 12,000 aircraft insured air superiority for the Allies, bombing German defenses and providing cover. Pessimistic predictions had been made of massive Allied causalities, but they were not borne out. On Utah Beach, 23,000 troops were landed, with only 127 causalities’. Most of the 4,649 American causalities that day occurred at Omaha Beach, where it was significantly more difficult to achieve the landing, and the Allies met with fierce German resistance. Overall it was a tremendous victory, catching the Germans by complete surprise. It still took however, a considerable amount of time for the Allied soldiers to make their way toward Paris, due to the thick overgrowth of hedgerows on French lanes. It was slow going. Finally Cherbourg was liberated by the end of June, and Paris followed two months later. I couldn’t help but think of Edwina when Paris was liberated. It had been five years since she had escaped the dreadful German occupation, and Kippy had just been a newborn. It was strange to realize that so much time had elapsed and that Kippy would now be five years old. I wondered if Edwina would pack up her belongings and make way for a return to Paris and her designing dreams. I had no wish to see that happen. It would be much too close for comfort.

I was si
mply living out my dreary existence, expecting nothing of life, hoping for no more than solitude, and a lack of disarray. I was in a sort of limbo, a married woman, but not living the life of such, financially independent and fully adult, at twenty-five years of age, but still sequestered under my parent’s roof. A mother, who oft times felt like a child.
My parents were still limping along in their own limbo. By then, it was clearly a love-hate relationship, at least on Mummy’s part. I could never ascertain with certainty what my father’s true feelings were. Sometimes I thought that he, too, merely existed. Of Edwina, I knew little. I’d heard from former school mates that she had, indeed, immigrated to America, and I was vastly relieved at the news. I already had a hard time remembering her voice or the way she looked. I made a conscious effort to erase her from my mind. I still despised having to spend any time alone with my mother, as our only conversations at such moments were recitations of every detail concerning the affair. And the never-ending scrutiny of the telephone bills.

M
ummy
had
managed to convince herself that there had never been a
full-blown
affair. In her fantasy, Edwina was the evil villain, and Papa the duped fool
.
Papa,
supposedly,
had tried to escape her clutches, and to remain faithful to his marriage vows, so the story went. Edwina’s cunning had been too much for his weak, male ego. I listened and agreed. Papa pampered and spoiled my mother beyond imagination. He left small notes for her, even if he left the house for a quick errand, never forgetting to tell her how beautiful he thought she was, and how much he loved her. Her collection of jewels increased exponentially.
At last, I believed that the relationship between Edwina and Papa was finished. There just seemed no way that they could have continued to see one another as the years progressed. Papa spent almost all of his time at home now, and he always asked Mummy to accompany him if he had to travel to London. He certainly never traveled to America.