Confessions From An Affair Ch. 08

(The year is 1942. Jack has been deployed to North Africa, leaving behind his pregnant wife)

*

The ground shook as bombs exploded all around. Everywhere the air was filled with smoke and flying debris. The sounds of men screaming in pain and mass confusion momentarily blocked out the terrifying thuds of the artillery shells. Suddenly, a man's face appeared out of the cloud of smoke. His face was streaked with dirt and his mouth was open as he shrieked in pain. His eyes were filled with terror at the horrors that were being unleashed upon his unit.

The man's face became clearer as the smoke dissipated. It was Jack! As the picture became clearer, you could make out the sight of blood. He was wounded -- perhaps dying...

I sat bolt upright in bed and screamed into my hands that were covering my face. My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes struggled to accustom themselves to the darkness of my room.

Slowly, my mind grappled with the realization that it was all just a dream -- the same dream that had haunted my nights on an almost constant basis for the past five months since Jack had left for Northern Africa.

"Just a dream," I told myself.

Still, in those first moments between dreaming and waking, it all seemed so real. My body was covered in sweat and I was half out of breath. It was if I had really been there. The explosions, the smells, the sounds of the men screaming -- it had all been so real.

I covered my face with the sheet and cried yet again. My mind was still coming to grips with the fact that none of it had really happened. Jack was not hurt and dying right before my eyes. The screams that I heard were not those of wounded soldiers, but those of our baby, Christine, in the nursery across the hall.

I tossed back the covers and swung my feet to the floor. The carpet felt reassuring -- one last verification that I was in our own home instead of some foreign battleground. I sleepily reached for my robe and switched on the light. The clock read two, fifteen in the morning. Not quite two hours since the last time that I had answered the cries of our little one.

I padded across the hallway and opened the nursery door.

"What's the matter with my angel?" I cooed.

I swept Christine up in my arms. I knew darned well what the problem was. The doctor had told me that it was colic and that it should clear up on its own in about three months. That was four months ago and so far there was no sign that it was letting up at all.

I tuned on a small light and carried my precious bundle to the rocking chair that everybody had pitched in to buy us. Christine struggled in my arms as her little body was wracked with pain. I thought again of how much of a failure I was at being a mother. Everyone tried to reassure me that it wasn't my fault, but those words rang kind of hollow when you had a tiny baby who was depending on you keep her safe and happy.

I opened the top of my nightgown and guided my nipple to Christine's lips. Her fussing stopped almost immediately as I held her to me to nurse. This was my favorite time of all. We were all alone and it was perfectly quiet. I was finally doing something to ease her suffering; even if it was only for a short while.

I gazed down at her perfect little angelic face and thought about the night that she had been born. All of the wives had formed a pretty tight group at first after our husbands had been shipped out. One other woman had become pregnant while at Fort Riley, but she wasn't nearly as far along as I was.

The girls all used to make a fuss over me. They also liked to poke a lot of fun, but I could see in their eyes that they were more than just a little bit envious. That night a group of us had been outside visiting when my water had suddenly broken.

"Payjee!" Maria had screamed,

The other women had immediately ushered me back inside of my apartment and there was mass confusion as they all argued about what I should do next. Luckily, someone had thought to run to Sergeant Richards' quarters to tell him of what was happening. The Sergeant had quickly commandeered a jeep and I was rushed off to the hospital.

I had been so scared. I wished with all of my heart that Jack could have been there to help me. I knew that he would always take care of me. However, I had nobody there to hold my hand and tell me everything was going to be fine. Luckily, the doctors and nurses were all great, so I was somewhat reassured.

My labor wasn't anything extraordinary, they told me later. But, let me tell one thing -- if any woman has ever had an easy labor, then I sure would like to meet her! The pains were unbearable. I was so thankful when the doctor gave me a shot that calmed me down quite a bit.

I remember seeing Christine for the first time as the doctor and nurses held her up just after she had entered this world. She was wrinkly and messy and looked only vaguely human, but I was in love with her from that very first moment.

A few days later I was brought back to my quarters and all of the other women were there to greet me. Everybody was so happy and made such a fuss over the baby. It did a lot to mask the fears that I had inside that I was in no way prepared for such huge responsibilities and the sadness that I felt that Jack wasn't here to share in this moment with me.

I also remember that moment because it was perhaps the last time that our little group was able to share in such a joyous event. After that day, things would begin to change for all of us, but I will always hold a place in my heart for the kindness that they showed me that day. Why did things change, you ask? I blame it all on The Black Creeper.

Even all of these years later, I don't like thinking about it. For us women, The Black Creeper was the embodiment of all of our worst fears. In the still of the night, when your nightmares seemed to be all too real, you could always hear The Black Creeper coming for you -- Like a hungry shark patrolling the shallow waters searching for its next meal.

The Black Creeper was the nickname that we had given to the large army staff car that was used to come and inform some poor wife that her husband had been killed or wounded in battle. It started making its first visits right about the time that Christine had come home from the hospital. I well remember the first time that I saw it make its dreaded first appearance.

A group of women had been in my home. Christine was crying almost non-stop and I was about at wit's end. Everyone was trying their hardest to offer whatever knowledge they had to help us. I was eager to accept any bit of old wives' tales that they had to offer that might possibly work.

Everybody was talking at once as we compared notes on different cures. Maria had happened to be standing near the front window when we heard her say, "Mira!"

We had all become used to her mixture of spanish and english over the past months and we knew that she was saying, "Look!"

All conversation died away as we looked on with curiosity. A large black army staff car was making its way down the road. It was moving slowly -- as if they were searching the buildings for a specific number. I think that all of us knew in our hearts what it was that we were looking at. It didn't matter that it was your worst nightmare sprung to life, we were each helpless to keep ourselves from staring.

The car came to a stop a little down the road from my door and out stepped two officers in full-dress uniform. The only sound that you could hear from inside my apartment was Christine continuing to cry. All other activity had ceased. All eyes followed the path that the two officers made to the front door of a unit just down the line from my own.

"That's Marilyn O'Neil's place," someone said.

All around, necks were craned to try to see what was happening. Through the open window we could hear one of the officers say," Mrs. O'Neil? May we come in for just a moment?"

Not a word was spoken among us. You could see the terror and the dread in each woman's eyes. Some had lifted the hands to cover their mouths, as if trying to hide themselves from what was unfolding.

A couple of moments passed silently. Then, all of a sudden you could hear a scream of grief penetrating the walls of my home. It was a cry of such unearthly anguish that we all started to cry right along with her. Where, just a few minutes earlier my living room had been the sight of so much laughter and commotion, it was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room.

Marilyn O'Neil may have been the first victim of The Black Creeper, but she would not be the last. No words had to be said. The gathering at my place quickly broke up and a stream of shaken women left my home that day. I don't really remember another happy moment occurring at Fort Riley until the day that I left.

Maria had been the last to go. She stood as if rooted to the floor. I went over and put my arms around her to try to comfort her. That poor little girl was shaking in my arms so badly that I thought she might just collapse on the spot.

After a long moment, she tried to say something, but she just couldn't make her voice come out. We looked at each other. Neither of us could seem to find the right words to say. She finally turned and went out of the door. I watched her walking away -- looking so small and frightened. God, how I would miss Maria in the coming months! The Black Creeper would come for her just two weeks later.

Thus, a new phase of our lives as military wives began. Where, once we had been a fairly tight knit group, we would henceforth insulate ourselves. Nobody knew when the blade of tragedy might fall upon them. It was easier if you didn't allow yourself to get so close to someone else that their pain might also become your own.

The pattern of my own life soon took shape. The nightmares that had haunted my sleep were now joined by the real life nightmare of seeing the same scene played out day after day as The Black Creeper made its deadly rounds.

In March of 1943 I received a letter from my father. I thought that it was very unusual that he would write. My mother normally took charge of all correspondences in our family. I opened the envelope and read the first few lines. The letter fell from my fingers and I was wracked by a cry of grief. My brother, William, had been killed in action.

I stood frozen in place as the room seemed to spin about me. The Creeper's appetite was indeed insatiable. I cried for the loss of my brother. I cried for the grief that my parents must be going through. I cried at the thought of what horrible news might lay in wait for me someday. I cried for all of the young men whose lives were being given up by the score.

I wanted so badly to be able to go home to Loon Lake to be with my parents. I wanted to be able to help them through this time in any way that I could. I also needed them around me more than I ever had before. I wanted them to be able to see their first grandchild and maybe feel just a little bit of joy in that. However, money was in very short supply. There was no way that I could afford the ticket back east and I knew that my parents, who had never left the state of Vermont during my lifetime, would not be traveling out to see me.

All that I could do was to carry on the best that I could. I prayed every waking hour that The Lord would keep Jack safe and bring him home to me. I had a baby to care for and I put all of my energies into doing everything that I could to be the best mother possible. The colic had persisted for five long months and I still seemed to be helpless to do anything for her.

I wasn't sleeping at night for more than two hours at any one stretch and I was really wearing down. I had taken to eating in an effort to keep whatever strength that I could. I wondered about how much longer I could possibly last.

One day, Christine had been unusually upset. I tried everything that I could think of to soothe her down. Nothing was working. I am ashamed to tell you that I found myself standing in her nursery screaming at her to just tell me what to do.

I immediately clamped my hands over my face. What kind of monster could ever possibly scream at her own child like that? I went over and picked her up from her crib and held her to me.

"Oh, baby," I cried, "Momma is so sorry."

I closed my eyes and asked for forgiveness. Instead of some divine sign, what happened was, Christine threw up all over me.

I placed her back in her crib and hurried to the bathroom to clean myself up. I took my blouse off and ran it under the water as tears rolled down my cheeks. I was a complete failure1

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror and almost didn't recognize the person staring back at me. I hadn't had time to shower in the past two days and my hair looked absolutely terrible. I had put on extra weight from all of the eating that I had done. I was ugly and I was fat, AND I was a lousy mother!

I ran out of the bathroom to retrieve another blouse from my dresser. I put it on quickly and made for the back door. I just had to get out of there! Even if it was for just a few minutes, I needed to get away.

I staggered out to my little garden and sank to my knees. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I started grabbing handfuls of weeds that had sprung up and began tearing them out of the ground.

See! I'm not even a good gardener!

I vented all of my anger on those darned weeds. I tore them from the ground with all of my strength. I wasn't only ripping up weeds -- I was ripping up the U.S. Army; I was ripping up the goddamn war; I was ripping up that horrible colic that was making my baby so miserable.

I don't know how long I knelt there pulling weeds. I was vaguely aware of dirt clods flying up and hitting me in the face and my hands being covered in mud. Suddenly, as if from somewhere far away, I heard someone's voice.

"Hey there," came the deep voice, "We got a call from the Chinese. They say that their rice plants are being pulled right into the ground!"

I looked up to see my old horse companion, Sergeant Jackson, standing nearby. His booming laugh rang out and it seemed to pull me back to reality. I suddenly realized what my appearance must look like and I wiped at my face with the back of my wrist.

"S -- Sergeant Jackson," I stuttered," I didn't realize that you were here."

"I haven't seen you around in quite some time," he said, "I thought that I would come by and see how you were doing."

"That was very kind of you, Sergeant," I said as I squinted against the sun, "I've missed working with the horses."

He looked at me seriously and said, "You see that, there? You done been gone so long, you went and forgot my name"

I smiled as I tried to wipe away another of the smudges on my face, "No, I haven't, Daniel."

His deep laugh again broke the air. In that moment it dawned on me just how isolated my life had become. I had forgotten the simple pleasure of talking to another human being -- or at least another human being that wasn't crying her lungs out back at you.

As if on cue, Christine began crying loudly from inside the house again. My first instinct was to run to her, but the fresh air and sunshine combined with the unexpected pleasure of some company kept me from running right off.

Daniel turned in the direction of the house and said, "Sounds like someone has some mighty fine lungs."

"You could stop by at any time of the day or night and she would be demonstrating just how strong her lungs are," I said.

"Well," he said, " I might as well let you be, then. Sounds like you have enough to keep you busy around here, alright."

"No! Wait! Please," I said, "I'll bring her outside so that you can see her."

Sergeant Jackson broke into his big smile, "If that wouldn't be too much trouble. I'd love to see just who it was that took away my favorite groomer."

I went inside to retrieve Christine. On the way to the nursery, I stopped in the bathroom to clean myself up a little bit. I was so embarrassed when I looked in the mirror and saw what I mess I was. I quickly washed my face and I gave up after a few futile attempts at doing something with my hair.

I changed Christine's diaper and then brought her out into the sunshine. "This is our daughter, Christine," I said to Daniel.

Hi eyes went wide, "Oh my! Isn't she just the cutest little thing that I've ever seen!"

He wiggled his finger in her face and made all kinds of baby noises. He was such a sight to see -- this big rugged horseman had been reduced to making funny noises to a little baby. My face felt strange as I smiled like I hadn't done in months.

"Would you like to hold her?" I asked.

Daniel looked at me in surprise. "You wouldn't mind?" he asked.

I handed Christine over to him and Daniel took her gently in his arms. She was still fussing a little bit, so he grabbed her under the arms and lifted her high in the air. She stopped crying immediately as he hoisted again and again high above his head. In fact, I was shocked when I saw her actually smile.

My baby was smiling!

Sergeant Jackson's booming laugh filled the air as he played with Christine. "We're gonna make a horsewoman out of you, just like your momma," he said, "Some day we're gonna put you on a horse all of your own."

Daniel stayed and visited with us for about another twenty minutes before he said that he really should be going. I had completely forgotten that he had so many duties that he had to attend to and I felt a little guilty that we had kept him away for so long.

As he handed Christine back to me I thought I saw another quick flash of that sorrow cross his face. "You two are really lucky to have a little one like that," he said.

Without even thinking, I told Daniel that he could stop by and play with Christine any time he wanted. "Well, I just might do that," he said as he walked away.

As soon as Sergeant Jackson had left, I could feel my loneliness descend upon me once again. Christine started crying in my arms and I found my eyes instinctively scanning the neighborhood for any signs of The Black Creeper. I wondered just how much longer I was going to be able to stand my life in this pressure cooker.

The next day I was lying on the couch. Christine had finally stopped crying and was taking a nap. I felt so bone tired -- like I was eighty years old instead of my twenty-two years. My eyes were just beginning to fall shut when there came a knock at the door.

I came awake instantly and my heart leaped to my throat. I quickly ran to the door in an effort to answer it before there was another knock that might awaken Christine. Even in my haste to get to the door my mind recoiled in terror at what might be awaiting me on the other side.

I opened the door and squinted against the sunlight. I could make out the uniform of an officer before me.

Oh, God! NO!

"Mrs. Hawthorne?' the officer said.

Please! Dear God!

"Colonel Martin sent me," he continued, "He and his wife heard about the birth of your child and thought that maybe you could use this."

My mind was still frozen in terror. I stood there dumbly as he turned to retrieve something from behind him.

"With the Colonel's compliments, ma'am," he said as he pushed a baby carriage in front of me.

I stared uncomprehendingly at the carriage and then back at the officer. I was sure that all of the blood had drained out of my face and that I must look as white as a ghost.

"The Colonel thought that maybe you might be in need of this," he stammered, "- for the little one."

My mind struggled to catch up. I found myself secretly sneaking a peek past his shoulder to see if I could catch any glimpse of the dreaded staff car nearby. When I didn't see it anywhere in sight, I found that I could at last breathe again.