Chapter Twenty-three Gunther

TWENTY-THREE : GUNTHER

CAMP FORREST, TENNESSEE

MAY 1943

Gunther's hands were covered with wet, white plaster when Major Gridley found him in the back room of the dispensary. The soldier who'd come in with a broken arm a short while ago had talked nonstop from the moment he stepped through the door, even while Gunther took X-rays, set the bone, and led him to the back where plaster supplies were stored in a cabinet next to a large porcelain sink. Topics of his one-sided conversation ranged from the war overseas to the young woman he met at the USO in town. He never paused long enough for Gunther to reply before he moved on to a new subject.

"Sure am glad I didn't break my leg," he said, laughing. "Wouldn't want some other fella to steal my gal. Say, did you know—"

"Ahem."

Gunther and the patient turned to find Major Gridley standing in the doorway.

"Major." The young man saluted the officer with his good arm.

The major nodded but his attention focused on Gunther. He wore a serious expression, which was unusual, considering the man was typically upbeat no matter the circumstances.

"Mr. Schneider, please come see me in my office when you're finished here."

"Yes, sir," he said, wondering what had the man looking so grave. He hoped there hadn't been another accident on the training field. Not long ago, a soldier was killed and others injured when a truck flipped over during a nighttime exercise.

"You must be a pretty good doctor," the young man said after the major departed. "I heard all the Kra—" He paused, looked sheepish, then continued. "I heard the Germans who live in the internment camp are members of the Nazi party. I don't guess they'd let a Nazi work in the hospital unless he was a real good doctor."

Gunther continued to wrap the man's arm with plaster-coated strips of cloth. He'd heard the rumor dozens of times over the past year and a half he'd worked in the infirmary. "I'm not a Nazi. I'm also not a doctor."

"For real? Boy, you could'a fooled me. You speak good English, too. I once met a man who could talk Spanish and he..." The young man launched into another outlandish story while Gunther finished with his cast. The soldier was still talking when Gunther walked him to the door and sent him on his way.

"I feel sorry for his bunkmates," he said to the nurse on duty, who giggled in response.

But the young man's compliment of Gunther's English pleased him.

Ava had tutored him for fourteen months now. They'd read and discussed dozens of books she checked out from the Camp Forrest library, including For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemmingway. She'd been disappointed with the ending—"Was Robert Jordan killed or does he miraculously survive?"—but Gunther thought it a perfect way to leave the story. She also brought newspapers to help him stay informed on what was happening in the world, and they discussed the war and Hitler without Gunther fearing his words would be mistaken or used against him.

After washing his hands, he went to the major's office.

"Come in, Mr. Schneider." Major Gridley waved to a chair in front of his desk. Once Gunther was seated, he asked, "How is your patient?"

"His arm should mend well, as long as he doesn't do anything reckless in the next six weeks." Gunther chuckled. "When a soldier comes in with the same injury, the nurses call him a repeat customer ."

He expected the major to smile at the joke, but instead the frown on his brow deepened. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Gunther waited.

He hoped this wasn't about his mother. He hadn't heard from her in months, despite his many letters. She'd written shortly after he informed her of his new address in Tennessee, but there had been silence since then. He guessed mail delivery into Germany from America was halted by the Nazis, and vice versa, but still, he longed to hear from her soon.

"I've been informed that a large group of German POWs will arrive soon. Most of the men were captured in Africa."

Relief washed over Gunther. This wasn't about Mutter . POWs had begun arriving at Camp Forrest months ago. A few more was nothing to be concerned about.

"I don't know where they'll sleep," he said, thinking of the cramped quarters in the internment camp. "We're already six or seven men to a hut built for four. The lines at the mess hall and showers are long. I can't imagine what it will be like when more POWs arrive."

Major Gridley heaved a sigh. "You misunderstand. To make room for the prisoners, all the DOJ detainees will be transferred to a different camp."

The news, while disappointing, wasn't so bad. "As long as I can continue working in the dispensary, it doesn't matter where I bunk at night."

"I'm sorry to say, the camp you're being transferred to is in North Dakota."

Gunther wasn't familiar with the location. "Is that in Tennessee?"

Major Gridley shook his head. "North Dakota is a state in the northern part of the country, near the Canadian border."

Gunther gasped. "Canada? Why would they send us there? Why not send the POWs to that camp instead of moving us?"

"I don't know." He offered a sympathetic shake of his head. "It makes no sense to me, but I'm not in charge."

Panic surged through Gunther. "Is there anything you can do? I want to stay here, at Camp Forrest, and continue working in the dispensary. I've learned so much from you, sir."

"I wish there was something I could do. You've been an excellent apprentice, and I've come to rely on you. I spoke with the commander and told him how well you've done here, but they won't make exceptions. All the internees will be transferred by the end of the week."

"So soon?" Gunther's heart sank.

How would he tell Ava? Did she already know?

"I'll send Mr. McCoy, the commander of the new camp, a recommendation for you to continue working in the hospital at Fort Lincoln." He gave Gunther an intense look. "This war will end one day, Mr. Schneider. God has given you a special gift. I expect you to become a great doctor someday."

Gunther exited the office, defeat rising inside him despite the man's commendation. A glance at the clock on the wall told him he'd have to wait a little over an hour before he met Ava.

Leaving Camp Forrest and his job at the dispensary was disheartening, but the thought of never seeing Ava again filled him with desperation.

For one wild moment, he wondered if he should escape before he and the others were loaded onto northbound trains. Two men tried to sneak through the fences of the military installation last month. Both were caught. Gunther's job, however, gave him special privileges to move about without a guard. It wouldn't be difficult to hide in one of the many delivery trucks that came and went through the gates.

But what would he do if he were successful? He couldn't put Ava in danger by asking her to help him. And if he couldn't continue to see Ava, there was no point risking an escape.

When both hands on the clock reached twelve, Gunther dashed out of the dispensary and practically ran for their normal meeting place.

She was already there.

When she turned to him, her face told him she'd heard the news.

"You know." He joined her on the bench.

She nodded. "Colonel Foster told us this morning."

Gunther heaved a sigh. "I foolishly believed I would remain at Camp Forrest for the duration of the war. It never occurred to me they would move us to make room for POWs. Even after the Japanese internees who'd arrived from Hawaii were relocated last year, I didn't think we would be next."

Ava worried her bottom lip. "I don't know much about North Dakota, other than it gets very cold there in the winter."

"I hope the housing they provide is better than the huts here. The concrete floors are always damp, and gaps in the wooden walls allow the wind to pass through, especially when it blows from the north."

They sat in silence for a time before Ava reached for the brown paper bag next to her.

"I brought roasted turkey sandwiches. Gertrude found a wild turkey trapped in one of the barns yesterday and managed to grab it. The meat is a little gamey, but with beef and cheese and other items now being rationed, I suppose we should be grateful for anything extra we can get."

Gunther accepted the sandwich, but he had no appetite.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he wasn't certain he should. Ever since they'd begun their lunch-tutoring sessions, he'd held out hope they could have a future together once the war was over. His training under Major Gridley convinced him he could return to medical school and become a doctor, a profession that would allow him to take care of her in the manner she deserved. Although she had never indicated her feelings went as deep as his, she enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed hers.

But with this morning's news of his imminent transfer from Camp Forrest, all hope of a future with her seemed lost.

They didn't discuss the latest book they'd been reading. Lessons in English seemed futile now. Instead, Gunther peppered her with questions about the farm, her dreams—personal topics he'd avoided until now. With their time together limited, he wanted to know everything about her. She in turn asked about his life in Germany, and for the first time, he admitted that his brother was a Nazi and his fear for his mother.

"When the war is over, I will bring Mutter to the United States," he said, determined. "There will be nothing left of Germany when the Allies are finished. The country she has always known no longer exists. She will need a new beginning."

Ava smiled, although there was sadness around the edges of her bright red lips. "You are a good man, Mr. Schneider. A good son. You don't deserve any of the hardships that have been forced upon you. I'll always cherish our friendship."

Her words were not what his heart wanted to hear, but he treasured her friendship too.

They met the following three days at their usual time and place. A sense of urgency hovered over their conversations, although Gunther restrained himself from professing his love and admiration for her.

"There is a going-away gathering for the internees in the camp mess hall tonight. Cake and dancing, from what I'm told." He'd practiced this speech numerous times that morning, but his nerves nearly choked him now. "Major Gridley said personnel from Camp Forrest who worked with many of us will be in attendance, including himself." He swallowed and met her gaze. "I hope you will come."

"I'll be there."

Her soft, shy response emboldened Gunther. "I would be honored if you would save a dance for me."

Her eyes, beautiful and shining, gave him his answer before she spoke. "I'd like that."

When they stood, she took a book from the lunch bag and handed it to him. Gunther recognized her dog-eared copy of Emma .

"I want you to have this, to remember me by."

Their fingers brushed when he accepted it. "I could never forget you."

With slow steps, they followed their usual path one last time. When she turned, it was Ava who raised her hand first. Gunther returned the gesture, his arm like lead.

She was the sole reason his internment at Camp Forrest hadn't crushed him.

How would he survive in North Dakota without her?