Chapter Eighteen Ava

EIGHTEEN : AVA

CAMP FORREST, TENNESSEE

MARCH 1942

The month of March blew in like a lion, but that didn't stop spring from arriving. Wildflowers and budding trees lined the two-lane road that led to Camp Forrest, and herds of Black Angus cattle happily grazed on bright green grass despite strong winds swirling around them. Tennessee truly was beautiful year-round, but after all the sorrow we'd suffered this past winter, the rebirth that came with the warmer weather was more than welcome.

Brilliant morning sunshine peeked over the horizon as I drove through the main gate and made my way to the hospital. I'd begun arriving earlier lately. At first it helped me stay caught up on my ever-growing responsibilities, but in the last week or two, I realized I was using work as an excuse to escape the farm.

There were two reasons for that.

Ivy Lee and Gertrude.

In the short time since Ivy Lee moved into the farmhouse, the two women had become fast friends. Which was confounding, considering Gertrude hadn't spoken a friendly word to me since I arrived last summer. While I generally got along with most people, Gertrude's obvious dislike of me was something I didn't understand and couldn't overcome, no matter what I did to alleviate the situation. Now, watching her laugh and gossip with Ivy Lee every evening, I felt completely left out in my own home.

I parked the Ford in my usual place and carefully made my way across one of the plank sidewalks strewn throughout the camp. Rain had turned the grounds into a muddy mess, and I'd nearly lost a shoe to the abyss yesterday. We could only hope the skies would stay sunny the rest of the week and dry things out.

I glanced toward a building at the far end of the complex.

I hadn't seen Gunther since he began working in the dispensary. I'd hoped to find an excuse to visit him and see how he was faring, but none of the never-ending personnel files took me to the building where the clinic was located. He seemed like a pleasant young man, with a bright future as a doctor if given a chance.

I let myself into the office only to find Colonel Foster engrossed in work.

"Good morning, sir. You're here early."

He looked up. "Good morning, Mrs. Delaney. I might say the same about you."

"Can I get you some coffee?"

He motioned to the mug on his desk. "This is my third cup. I better quit before I start running laps around the camp."

I smiled, then looked at the mound of paperwork on his desk. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

His expression turned serious. "The first group of wounded soldiers from Europe arrive later this week. They're currently being treated in English hospitals but as you can imagine, there are more wounded than England can handle. We need to be certain the hospital is well stocked and well staffed before they get here."

For the rest of the morning, we went over supply lists, requisitions for more beds, the number of ambulances required, and dozens of other details that needed attention. I heard Bren, Stella, and Ethel in the outer office as they came through the door, chatting, but they went right to work, their typewriters singing a familiar song.

By noon, my back ached from sitting in the hard chair.

"I have a lunch appointment at headquarters." Colonel Foster looked at his wristwatch. "Let's meet back here at fourteen-hundred hours."

He greeted the secretaries as he passed through the office and headed outside.

Bren turned to me after he closed the door. "Boy, whatever you're working on must be important."

I filled her and the others in on the imminent arrival of wounded soldiers from Europe. They would receive work related to the influx of patients soon, so knowing ahead of time would help prepare them.

"I think I'll take a break and get some lunch at the mess hall," I said.

We usually ate our sack lunches at our desks, but I'd been in a hurry to leave the house this morning before Ivy Lee and Gertrude came downstairs and started their chatter. I still hadn't figured out what Ivy Lee's job was, but her hours were different from mine, which worked out fine. It kept me from feeling obligated to share a ride with her.

As I walked outside to a breezy but warm day, guilt niggled me.

I didn't want to be unfriendly to Ivy Lee. It wasn't her fault Gertrude preferred her company over mine. I knew I wasn't jealous. I'd come to understand long ago that Richard's mother simply didn't like me and probably never would. It hurt at first, because I hadn't had a mother figure in my life for a while. Mom lived with her new family in Chicago and seemed to forget me altogether. Aunt Vy once told me I reminded Mom of my dad, which wasn't a good thing. Richard had hoped his mother and I would become friends. He'd be disappointed to see us now.

The hospital mess hall was crowded when I entered, with medical personnel, soldiers, and even patients well enough to get out of bed. The aroma of fried chicken and yeast rolls made my mouth water, and I eagerly joined the line.

With my tray in hand, I searched for an empty seat in the packed room. There, in the very back corner, was a small table with only one occupant. As I approached, however, I realized it was a man, and he wore the grass-green uniform of a DOJ detainee.

I was about to turn around when he glanced my way.

"Mrs. Delaney." Gunther stood. "It is good to see you again."

"And you. I must admit I've wondered how you've been. Do you like working at the dispensary?"

He waved to the empty chair opposite him. "You're welcome to join me, and I will tell you about it."

I accepted the offer. "Is your guard not with you?"

A slight smile creased his eyes. "Happily, I am allowed to move about without him. He takes me to the dispensary in the mornings and returns to drive me back to the internment camp at the end of the day. Colonel Foster's orders, as I understand it."

This news pleased me. "I imagine you've been kept busy."

"I have, for which I am grateful. It keeps my mind occupied."

His English was heavily accented but quite good. I wondered how he came to learn it.

"I have been enjoying the warmer weather," he said.

"Yes," I agreed, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "I'm glad winter is behind us."

He nodded. "When I was a child, I took pleasure in the snow. We would go sledding and build snowmen. But now, I do not care for it so much."

"Do you miss Germany?" I hoped the question wasn't inappropriate, but I couldn't help but be curious about the foreign man.

He seemed to ponder his answer. "I suppose there are things I miss about my homeland, like the food and the music, but I was glad to come to America. My Mutter , she wanted me to become a doctor, like her father."

"I'm sure she's proud of you."

He looked down at his plate. "I fear her dream for me will never come true."

I heard defeat in his voice. "Don't give up." His face lifted, and blue eyes met mine. "I don't know what will happen, with the war or with you and the others, but I'm learning we must stay positive and hope for the best."

"That may be easier for you than for me. Everything has been taken from me. Even my freedom. I cannot see a future for me in America, nor do I wish to return to Germany. Not while Hitler and the Nazis are in power."

I debated whether I should tell him my story, but somehow it felt right. "I know the feeling of losing everything. My husband, Richard, died at Pearl Harbor. We hadn't been married for very long. I was supposed to go to Hawaii to be with him, but there was a delay in obtaining our housing."

Genuine sorrow filled his face. "I am very sorry, Mrs. Delaney. You have surely suffered a greater loss than I have."

I offered a sad smile. "We've both suffered. War is so awful. I don't know why some leaders are bent on power at any cost."

"Let us hope the Allies win soon, so it will all come to an end."

I picked up my glass of water and held it up. "Cheers to that."

A smile formed on his lips, and he did likewise. "Cheers."

We ate our meal, with easy conversation between us. A glance at the clock above the main doors, however, reminded me of my duties.

"I best get back to the office." I stood and reached for the lunch tray, but Gunther took it from me.

"Please, allow me."

It had been some time since a man showed such chivalry toward me. "Thank you, Mr. Schneider."

We walked to a window-sized opening where an unseen person took the trays, then made our way outside. Some of the servicemen watched us with curiosity, no doubt wondering what a civilian employee was doing with one of the enemy aliens. Thankfully no one questioned us and we stepped into a glorious afternoon. Even the wind had died down, making the afternoon truly pleasant.

"I enjoyed speaking with you, Mrs. Delaney."

I smiled. "And I you."

He glanced toward the dispensary, then faced me, regret in his eyes. "I hope I will see you again."

A warm tingle spread up my arms. "That would be nice."

I turned toward the administration building, wondering if he was watching. I forced myself to face forward until I reached the wooden steps. When I glanced in the direction I'd come, my heart skipped a beat.

He stood in the same place where we'd parted.

He lifted his hand to wave goodbye.

Only when I returned the gesture did he turn and walk back to the dispensary.

· · ·

Gunther and I accidentally met at noon the following day, and the day after that.

I purposefully didn't bring lunch from home, ensuring the need to make the trek to the mess hall, the same time I'd gone that first day. When I spotted his green uniform at the table in the back corner, I had to keep my bottom lip clamped between my teeth to hide my grin.

We talked about all kinds of things. The hospital. The internment camp. The war. Although neither of us delved too deeply into the subjects, considering our positions at Camp Forrest, by the end of our third meeting, I knew I'd found a friend.

"Where did you learn to speak English so well?" I asked. We'd both finished eating our fried fish and coleslaw, with Gunther bemoaning the lack of sauerkraut on the menu at American mess halls. My lunch break only lasted forty-five minutes, so we filled every second with conversation.

"After my father died from the effects of the mustard gas he was exposed to during the Great War, Mutter went to work as a schoolteacher to support us. She was fluent in French, and when one of her fellow teachers asked her to tutor his daughter, Mutter in turn asked the man to tutor me in English." He paused, as though remembering that long ago day. "She always hoped I would come to America to study medicine."

"What about your brother? You said he's older than you."

Gunther's brow tugged into a frown, and he didn't answer right away. "Rolf joined the army as a youth. I have not heard from him directly in many years."

His stiff answer reminded me that our friendship was new. Although I hoped he knew he could trust me, I would understand if he remained cautious regarding the information he divulged about his family and his life in Germany.

We followed the same routine we'd begun the first day. He carried my tray to the counter, then waited for me to reach the office steps before he waved. I'd just raised my hand in return when I heard Colonel Foster's voice behind me.

"Is that Mr. Schneider?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin and whirled to find his attention focused on Gunther's retreating back. When he looked at me, I felt like a child caught doing something naughty.

"Yes," I said, attempting to sound normal. "I ran into him at the mess hall."

Which was true, for the most part.

He didn't say more, so I turned and entered the building. He followed and went directly to his office and closed the door.

Bren peeked over her shoulder at me. "Where have you been?" she whispered. "This is the third day in a row you haven't eaten with us."

I rolled a sheet of paper into the Underwood typewriter on my desk. "I haven't been to the PX this week, and Gertrude doesn't want me to take leftovers for lunch anymore. She says Ivy Lee is paying rent, so she gets first dibs."

Again, that was true. Gertrude had indeed told Ivy Lee she was welcome to make her lunch from anything she found in the refrigerator. She'd also insinuated that I could have whatever was left, which was usually bologna.

However, I didn't want anyone—not Bren, the other secretaries, or especially Colonel Foster—becoming suspicious about my friendship with Gunther. Tomorrow I'd let him know we would need to limit our lunches to twice a week. But I'd also had an idea spring to mind today when we were together, and I wanted to talk to him about it as soon as possible.

That conversation had to wait.

Gunther didn't come to the mess hall the next day, then I had to work through lunch on Friday to process a rush requisition for supplies. When the clock struck noon on Monday, I practically ran from the office to the mess hall, anxious to see if he was there.

Relief washed through me when I spotted the familiar green in the corner.

I hurried through the line, not even caring that the meal today was chipped beef on toast with a side of peas. When I reached the table, I was out of breath.

"Mrs. Delaney," he said, concern in his blue eyes as he stood. "Are you all right?"

I laughed. "Yes, but I was worried about you. Why weren't you here last Thursday?"

"There was an emergency at the dispensary. I came the following day, but you were not here. I too worried."

We shared a grin. "Aren't we a couple of sillies. But," I said, sobering, "I think it best if we limit our lunch meetings." I glanced around, and although no one seemed to take notice of us, I felt nervous. "I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong impression."

Gunther's gaze passed over the large room filled with military and hospital personnel. When we settled in our seats, he leaned forward and spoke in a low tone.

"I do not wish to bring trouble to you. I will understand if you would rather not come again."

"I don't want to stop meeting," I hurried to say. I couldn't help the smile that came to my lips when I added, "I enjoy our time together."

My reward was the light that came into his eyes. "As do I."

I looked down at the unappetizing food on my plate. "I think I'll probably do more talking today than eating."

He laughed. "It tastes gooder than it looks."

His use of the incorrect word reminded me of my idea. "I want to ask you about something. You said a friend of your mother's tutored you in English, and it certainly shows. You have a wonderful command of the language, considering it's not native to you."

His attention on me never faltered. "Thank you. Sometimes, though, I struggle with how to pronounce English words correctly. I know my German accent is difficult to understand for some."

"Would you like to continue to study English? I could help. I'm not a teacher, but—"

"Yes."

His quick answer made me smile. "I hoped you'd say that."

"How would we accomplish this?" He glanced around the noisy room, then faced me again. "It is difficult to hear your voice even now."

He was right, of course.

I mulled over ideas for a quieter place to meet rather than the loud mess hall. The library or one of the recreation halls would work well, but Gunther's status as an enemy alien prevented him from leaving the hospital complex. My office was out of the question, too, since I didn't want to raise questions about why I was spending time with him. Even though our friendship was completely innocent, I knew some people might misunderstand or disapprove because Gunther was German.

The door opened as someone entered, letting in midday sunshine.

"We could meet outside now that the weather is warmer," I said. "There's a bench behind the dental clinic, but it's in plain view from the windows. Captain Jones, the dentist in charge, takes his breaks there so he can smoke a cigarette."

We discussed the plan, deciding it would be best for me to bring sandwiches for both of us on our study days. It would save time, plus we could bypass the mess hall all together.

When our lunch came to an end and we walked outside, Gunther turned to me.

"May I ask you something, Mrs. Delaney?"

When I nodded, he said, "Why do you wish to help me? Most Americans believe I am their enemy. I cannot fault them, considering what is happening in my homeland. But you," he shook his head in wonder, "you see me differently. You see me for who I am, not where I come from."

"My grandmother used to tell me to treat people the way I want them to treat me. The day you saved that soldier's life, I knew you were trustworthy. I've never had many friends. I keep people at a distance, mainly because I'm afraid they'll abandon me, like my dad and then my mom." I hoped he didn't think I was some crazy American woman making a pass at him. "I want to be your friend, Gunther."

His eyes widened at my use of his given name, but soon a slow smile lifted his lips. " Danke , Ava," he said softly. "I want very much to be your friend, too."

We parted with the promise of meeting again at the bench behind the dental clinic. When I reached the office steps and turned, he was there, his hand lifted in farewell.

Lunchtime on Wednesday couldn't get here fast enough.