Quill Pen Scratchings

Chapter 13

He heard a soft tapping at the door, and a click as the handle turned.   Clemence stuck her head inside the room.  “Wake up, lovely boy!” she said in a loud whisper.  She stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind her.  She was wearing a long dress and a white blouse with a heavy shawl pulled around her shoulders and her hair was pulled back from her face.  She looked different, happy, Edmund thought hopefully.  He sat up halfway, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“It is cold,” he said. 

“Yes it is,” she smiled at him. “I turned the gas on in the bathroom, so there should be hot water for the bathtub.  Father put that in for mother years ago.  We were one of the first houses around here to have one.  Anyway, I can run the bath for you, if you want to wash up properly.” She bent down and picked up Edmund’s nightshirt off the floor.

Edmund laughed quietly and flipped off the blankets.  The cold air on his naked body was a shock to him, but he stood up quickly and stretched.  Clemence looked at him and then quickly looked at the floor.  “You should put this on.”

“Right,” he said, taking the nightshirt and slipping it over his head until it fell to his knees. 

“Grab your things and I will show you the bath.”  Clemence walked over to the door and out into the hall.  Edmund picked up clothes and followed her, but he paused as he got to the doorway.  Clemence looked back at him, and then whispered, “She is downstairs making breakfast.  I already told her you stayed and she was very glad that you didn’t head out into the blizzard.”  She leaned in towards him and said, “and I’m glad too.”  She kissed him lightly on the cheek and walked up the hallway into the bathroom.

Edmund followed, tiptoeing on the cold floor, and stepped into the bathroom.  Clemence was leaning over a large cast iron bathtub and, putting her hand under the flow of running water, testing the temperature.  Steam came off the water in the cold air.  He looked up and there was a tank mounted to the wall in the corner over the tub.  Through a grill, Edmund could see a small gas flame.  The steam in the room thickened as the tub began to fill with water.  “I’ve set out soap and a few things for you on the sink.”  She looked back down at the water.  “That should be ready for you in just a moment.”

Edmund put his clothes on a rack near the door and put his boots on the floor.  Clemence stood up, still looking down at the water, and Edmund stepped quickly over to her and kissed her firmly.  He grabbed both of her arms and pulled her tightly against him.  After a moment, she pulled away from him and looked down at the bathtub, which was mostly full.  She knelt and turned off the water.  She stood up and leaned back into him and said, “Your bath is ready.”

She looked back up into his face and kissed him lightly on the cheek.  “I,” she paused, “I need to get back downstairs.  Just come down whenever you are ready.”  She stepped around him and walked out into the hall, closing the door behind her.  Edmund stared at the door for a moment and listened as Clemence’s footsteps receded down the stairs.  He slid the nightshirt over his head and turned back toward the steaming tub.  He lifted his foot and touched the water with his toes.  His feet were like ice cubes, and the water burned as he plunged his foot in, and then the next one, and then lowered his body into the tub.

The water was up to Edmund’s neck, and his body began to warm up.  He submerged his head, and ran his fingers over his head, and he could feel the pockets of cold that were clinging to his hair dissipate in the warmth.  He stayed under the water for a moment and almost felt himself floating.  He sat up and raised his head above the water again and pushed his hair back off his face.  He picked up the cake of soap she had left for him and began to wash.  When he was clean and rinsed, he stood up and picked up the chain that held the plug with his toes and lifted it out of the drain.  He stepped out of the tub, and steam rose off his body in the cold air.  He quickly grabbed a towel that Clemence had left and rubbed dry.  Even though the air was very cold, his body was still warm from the bathwater.  He quickly dressed himself, making himself look at neat as he could, making sure that his tie was straight.  He noticed a new pair of socks, much thicker than the ones that he had been wearing, laying among the things Clemence had set out for him.  He put them on and then pulled on his boots.  On the sink, there was a razor and a very old cake of shaving soap and a brush.  He ran the brush under hot water from the sink and lathered up the soap and then shaved, and he cleaned his teeth with some paste and a cloth. 

He combed his hair in the mirror and put his coat on.  He was feeling a little nervous about seeing Madam Morel.  Checking himself in the mirror one last time, he opened the door to the considerably colder air in the hallway, then he stepped out and walked down the stairs. 

As he descended into the warmth of the kitchen, he could see Clemence carrying a platter of eggs into the dining room.  “We are just about ready to eat.”

“Great!  I am starved!”

“Well, we started getting things ready to serve when we heard the water draining from the tub.”

“Oh, you were listening.  Glad I didn’t do anything questionable up there.”

Clemence smiled and shook her head slightly and carried the tray into the dining room.  Just after Clemence stepped out, Madam Morel came in through the same door and smiled brightly at Edmund.  “Good morning! I bet when you came for dinner last night, you had no idea you would be staying for breakfast!”

“No, ma’am.  But I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Oh, it is nothing.  There is no way you could have departed in that blizzard last night.  You would never have made it.”

 “Well, thank you just the same.”

“I trust you stayed warm enough last night?”

“Yes, ma’am.  Little cold this morning, but that bath warmed me right up!”

“Yes, that is a wonderful thing to have.  It was a gift from my husband on our fifth wedding anniversary.”  She picked up a plate of sausages and a plate of tomatoes and walked back into the dining room.  Edmund followed her and saw that the sofa and chair from last night were gone, and the table was back in its place, laden with plates of food and an urn of coffee.  A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and they all sat down to eat. 

As they ate, Madam Morel said, “It certainly looks beautiful outside.”  And indeed it did.  Edmund looked out of the front window, and everything was still and quiet and dazzlingly white under a thick blanket of snow. 

“It is beautiful, but I am going to have a cold walk home.” Edmund said.

“Oh, I spoke to Monsieur Fournier this morning when he brought the milk and I told him we had a stranded American here.” Clemence said, smiling at Edmund.  “He has his sleigh harnessed up and he had to make some deliveries out near Behonne and he could drop you off there when you were ready.”

“Oh, how nice,” Madam Morel said.

“That is very nice of him.” Edmund said.  He was suddenly depressed at the thought of leaving.  The conversation died down as they dined on a breakfast of eggs, tomatoes, sausage, and apple pastries. As they ate, Edmund felt Clemence’s leg slide behind his so that her shin was lightly touching the back of his calf. 

After a few moments, Madam Morel said, “We were able to build that fire using the wood you brought in last night.  We didn’t have to get more this morning!”  She winked at Edmund. 

“Glad to be of service,” Edmund said and nodded.  “And I sure was happy to have that fireplace in my room last night.  I stayed nice and warm all night.  Do all the bedrooms upstairs have them?”

“Yes, Monsieur Morel had them put in when we bought the place,” Madam Morel said proudly.

“Well, Monsieur Morel was a very smart man.  This is a very comfortable and beautiful house,” Edmund said, and Madam Morel beamed.  He continued, “I remember growing up, we had two iron stoves, one in the kitchen, for cooking, of course, and one in the hall, supposedly to heat the upstairs.  We also had a fireplace in the parlor.  But I remember many mornings waking up feeling like I had icicles hanging off my ears and grabbing my clothes and taking them down and throwing them on the hearth just to thaw them out.”

Madam Morel was smiling but had a faraway look in her eyes.  “Yes,” she said, “he was a jewel.” And she reached out and patted Edmund on the hand.  “I need to refill the coffee,” she said, standing up and taking the coffee urn into the kitchen.

Clemence pressed her leg more firmly against Edmund and smiled at him.  “She likes you.”

Edmund smiled toward the kitchen.  “She is a very sweet lady.”

“Yes, she is.  Most of the time,” Clemence said, laughing.  “She has been through a lot.”

Edmund nodded as Madam Morel came back into the room with a steaming urn of coffee.  After they each had their fill, Clemence said, “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t keep Monsieur Fournier waiting much longer.”  Edmund nodded at her and pushed back from the table.  “Mother, would you mind if I accompanied them?  I would love to see the countryside like this.”

“Oh, not at all dear.  One so rarely gets to see beautiful things these days, you should take the chance when it comes.”

Edmund looked at Clemence, but she didn’t look back at him.   “Let me help you clear this away and then we will go,” Clemence said.

“Oh, I can take care of this,” Madam Morel said, but Clemence ignored her and began picking up plates and platters and silverware.  Edmund stood up to help. 

Edmund and Clemence cleaned off the table, making several trips back and forth to the kitchen while Madam Morel sat and finished the last of her coffee.  When they were done, Edmund walked over to the peg by the door and picked up his overcoat and hat.  Clemence disappeared into the kitchen and then brought out a long coat and a fur hat and muffler.

 “I would go with you, but I don’t think my old bones would appreciate it very much.”

“You stay by the fire, Mother.  And don’t worry about the dishes.  I will take care of them when I get back.  I don’t think we will have much of a dinner crowd today.”  She leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek, and Edmund did the same.  Clemence looked long and thin in her close-fitting coat.  Edmund held the door at the front of the café open for her.  The snow was about twelve inches deep, and he walked in front of Clemence to plow a lane with his boots for her to walk in.  They turned right and walked down a block, and as they rounded the next turn, there was a building with an open stable door, and standing out in front was a red sleigh harnessed to two horses.  Smoke curled out of a chimney of the house attached to the stable, and a thick blanket of snow made everything clean and white.  It looked to Edmund like a Currier and Ives print that his mother had hanging in the parlor.

“I will go and fetch Monsieur Fournier,” Clemence said.  She walked off through the snow and into the barn, out of Edmund’s sight.  Edmund walked over to the horse closest to him and ran his hand down its neck.  The horse turned its head and rubbed Edmund’s shoulder with its nose.  Clemence reappeared and said, “He will be right out.”

Monsieur Fournier was a short but stout man, who nodded and bowed and smiled to Edmund and Clemence.  He looked at Edmund and said, “Behonne?”

 “Oui, merci.” Edmund replied, and Monsieur Fournier nodded and bowed again, and stepped over to the side of the sleigh and gestured for them to climb into it and sit.  Edmund held Clemence’s hand as she gathered up her dress to make the first high step into the sleigh.  Edmund could see her high black boots, and then her white pantaloons that were tucked into the tops of them.  Edmund clambered up behind her, trying to knock the snow off his boots before stepping onto the floor of the sleigh.  Edmund again held Clemence’s hand as she sat down on the middle of the wide leather seat.  He sat down next to Clemence, and Monsieur Fournier climbed up into the driver’s seat, which was set slightly higher than the back seat.  Edmund leaned over Clemence and pulled several layers of wool blankets topped by a fur-lined one up and over their laps.  They were large enough that he was able to cover their legs and feet and then pull the tops of the blankets up over their shoulders, so only their heads were exposed.  As they were settling in, Clemence moved even closer to Edmund so that she was sitting tightly pressed against his side.

Monsieur Fournier looked back at them and smiled warmly and nodded, and Edmund smiled and nodded back, and with a crack of the reins, the horses started off.  Edmund put his arm around Clemence, and she rested her head on his shoulder, and her hand on his thigh.  They rode on in silence, listening to the muffled sounds of the horses’ hooves as they thudded in the snow. The runners compacted the snow beneath them, and the bells on the horses’ bridles jingled merrily. 

Everything was cold and white and crisp, and as the sleigh headed out of town on the road to Behonne, they could see far through the woods in every direction.  Edmund could see a family of deer foraging for food, and they didn’t even look up as the sleigh glided by.  Soon, much too soon for Edmund, they approached the iron gates of Behonne.  Monsieur Fournier slowed the sleigh to a stop, and Clemence sat up.  Edmund pulled the blankets off him and tucked them around Clemence, and as he stood up and put one foot on the runner outside of the sleigh, Clemence slid over to where Edmund had been sitting.  She looked up at him and said, “Goodbye.”     

“Goodbye,” Edmund said.

 “You will come back soon?”

“You couldn’t keep me away,” Edmund said smiling.  He reached up and put his hand on the side of her face, and she leaned her head into his hand and closed her eyes.  Then she pulled her arm out of the blankets and reached up to the side of his neck and pulled him close to her and he kissed her.  Then he pulled away and kissed her forehead and stepped down out of the sleigh.  He looked up at Monsieur Fournier who smiled down at Edmund and, Edmund thought, winked at him.  Then with a click of the tongue and a snap of the reins, the horses started off again.  He watched the sleigh glide quietly down the road, and then he could see Clemence sit up and turn and look at him and raise her hand to wave goodbye.  He watched until the sleigh rounded a bend and he could no longer see it. 

Edmund turned and walked through the gates of Behonne and nodded at the sentry.  The sentry winked at him and nodded.  Edmund shook his head.  The snow on the road into Behonne lay pristine and undisturbed.  There had been no movement in or out of the base all morning.  The low buildings, the tents, the canteen, the administration building, and the large hangars all lay under a mantle of white, and the place looked quiet and calm, even a bit cheerful, although he wasn’t looking forward to how cold his tent probably was.  He trudged on through the unbroken snow, and then finally onto an area of heavy foot traffic where the snow had been trampled down by men going and coming from the canteen.  He continued to his own tent and as he approached he saw footprints leading into it.  He stopped and looked up at the roof of the tent and could see waves of heat coming out of the chimney for the paraffin oil heater. 

Edmund approached slowly and as quietly as he could, stepping into the existing footprints in the snow.  He climbed the low steps, and then quickly whipped the tent flap open.

 “Oy!  You’re letting the heat out!”

Edmund stuck his head inside, and saw Tino standing, half-shaven, over a washbasin. 

“Tino!” Edmund said, stepping quickly into the tent.

“One and the same,” Tino said, and smiled.  “And you are my hero and savior,” he said and bowed deeply to Edmund.

Edmund smiled.  Tino straightened up again, gripping a cane that was leaning against his leg, and Edmund could see that he was much thinner and paler than when he last saw him. 

“And close the fucking flap,” Tino said as he turned back to the mirror and continued shaving. 

Edmund turned and pulled the tent flap shut and then tied the straps tight to keep the cold out.  He sat down on his cot.  “When did you get back?”

“Yesterday, just before the storm hit.  I kept expecting to see you, and imagine my surprise when you didn’t show, eh?  Hopefully you found a French honey to keep you warm?  Lots of lonely widows out there.”

Tino’s last comment irked Edmund, but that, Edmund remembered, was what Tino did.  “No, nothing so lucky.  I went into town to have a Christmas dinner at one of the cafés and got snowed it.  The owner put me up for the night.”  Edmund didn’t want to tell anyone about his night, and the things that passed between him and Clemence.  Tino especially had a way of making things seem cheap. 

“How unfortunate and boring for you.  I was hoping somebody was curled up with a warm body last night since I was shivering my ass off in this paper shack.  Hell, it’s been a long time since I curled up with anyone.  Though there was this one nurse who took extra good care of me.” He looked back at Edmund, his eyes shining.  “She had a huge rack,” he gestured with his hands out in front of him, “and one evening, she pulled the curtains around, and…”

Edmund laughed, but he wanted to change the subject.  He cut in, “So, how are you doing?  All healed up?”

Tino smiled and paused and then looked back in the mirror.  “Mostly, except now I come with a lead bullet in my hip, the Boche bastard.  Thanks for killing him, by the way.”

 “No problem.”

“But yeah, the docs couldn’t get the bullet out.  Tried three times until I finally told them to quit.  Just leave me with enough morphine to get by.  Have you ever tried that stuff?”  Edmund shook his head.  “Well, it is pretty good.  They gave me some for the trip.  Gotta figure out where I can get more though.”

“Search me,” Edmund said with a shrug.  Tino picked his shirt up off his cot and pulled it on and began to button it.

“I stopped by and looked at the Nieuport.  Looks damn good.”

“Thanks.” Edmund said.

“Did you have any help?”

“Well, sort of.  Knox borrowed a guy from another crew, Luc something, but I could never find him when I needed him.  He did do the artwork on the side though.”

“Yes, I know him.  Lazy shit.  You did a nice job of patching the holes though. The stitches are nice and tight, and the lacquer covers them up nicely.  Any structural damage?

“Not really, just holes in the fuselage.  One shot did knick a guide wire though.  I replaced the whole thing.”

 Tino nodded his approval.  “Sounds like you don’t need me at all,” he said as he smiled at Edmund.

 “I don’t know.  It’s a hell of a lot of work when they come back all shot up.”

 “I heard they lost Rockingham.”

“Yeah, went down a couple of weeks ago.”

“Well, he was an asshole anyway.  Nice funeral though, so I hear.”

“It was impressive,” Edmund said.

“I heard talk yesterday that they are planning another mission as soon as the snow is off the runway.  If it doesn’t melt soon, they may be asking us to pile dirt and gravel on it to give them some traction so they can land.”  Tino finished getting dressed and began to walk with his cane over to the flap of the tent to go out.  He turned around to Edmund, “Listen, no questions came up about where we were and what we were doing out there, did they?”

“No.  I just said that we were on a supply run and needed to get fuel.  Signed the report.”

“Good.  Nobody ever asked me about it, and I just wanted to make sure that my savior,” Tino bowed his head slightly towards Edmund as he said this, “didn’t take any heat for it.”

“Nope, none at all.”

“Good, good.” He turned to exit and then turned back again.  “Listen, some of the boys are having a little Christmas party in honor of my homecoming tonight in the canteen.  It wouldn’t be complete without my savior.”

“Oh, sure, I will be there.”

“Good.  I’m going to get some breakfast and then I thought maybe we could go look at the plane and you could show me what you have done to it.”

“Sounds good.”

Tino stepped out of the tent and closed the flap tightly.  Edmund stood up and took off his clothes, leaving on his long underwear and then lay down on his cot and slid under the blankets.  The paraffin oil heater did put off a lot of heat, but it was uneven in the drafty tent.  He lay, staring at the canvass roof, thinking about how it had felt to lie against Clemence’s body, and how she looked with her skin illuminated by the firelight.  He drifted off into a short, but very deep, dreamless sleep. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he awoke, but he snapped into consciousness quickly, and stood up, taking some work clothes out of his trunk.  He felt like he may have gotten up too fast and felt dizzy while he was pulling on his pants. He put on his boots and coat and hat and then turned the heater down.  They weren’t supposed to leave them turned on when they weren’t in the tents, but he knew it would take forever for the room to heat up again if he turned it out.  If they ran out of kerosene, he knew Tino could get more.  He exited the tent, making sure to close the flaps tightly and trudged through the snow to the hangar.  The paths were getting more and more tamped down by footsteps, but the air had turned decidedly colder, and a hard mantle had formed on the undisturbed snow, and it crunched under his boots as he plowed along. 

The hangar was fairly active when he got there, but it was darker than usual.  The large barn-style doors that faced the runway were closed, and the room was illuminated only by the electric lights.  Several paraffin heaters were distributed around to provide some heat, but the hangar was frigid.  Tino was over at Knox’s Nieuport, looking under the engine cowling.  Edmund walked up behind him and watched.  He wasn’t doing anything except looking.

 “So, what do you think?

“Eh?”  Tino turned around and looked at Edmund.  He stepped back and stood beside him, and both were admiring the airplane.  “What do I think?  I think you are going to put me out of a job.  That is what I think.”  Edmund smiled.  “Couldn’t you have fucked something up so they would think they still needed me?  I mean, I am just an old pirate, and now a crippled one at that.”  He said as he held up his cane.  “I looked for the guide wire that you replaced, and I couldn’t tell the difference between the new one and the old one.”

“Well, I, for one,” Edmund said, clapping Tino on the shoulder, “am really glad you are back.  Keeping this thing up is a hell of a lot of work for one person.”  He leaned in towards Tino and said quietly, “And just between you and me, I don’t know what I am doing.  I just took what I knew of cars, combined it with what you taught me, and just figured out the rest.”

Tino looked at him and laughed in his deep rumbling way, “Welcome to the club.  That is how we all learned it.  I never saw an airplane before I got here.  I was a pretty good mechanic, and my father, the bastard, was a blacksmith and a wheelwright, so I knew metalworking as a kid, but airplanes?  Where the hell do you learn about that?”  They stood in silence and looked at the plane.  Then Tino continued, “No, before our young Sergeant Knox came along, I was an assistant, and we had a couple of planes that were pretty bad off, a Nieuport 10 and an old Airco I think, and we practically had to strip them down to the airframe and rebuild them.  That is where I learned the little that I know.  I just faked the rest.”

“Well, it worked,” Edmund said.  He walked over to the supply locker and said, “We do need some things, though.  Some ammunition, oil, and,” he rummaged around in the cabinet, “some more varnish.  Took a hell of a lot to cover up the artwork.”  Tino took a small flask out of his coat and took a long drink from it and handed it to Edmund without looking at him.  Edmund took it and drank a considerably smaller amount than Tino.  They spent the afternoon sitting around the plane and talking and drinking from Tino’s flask.  Edmund moved a paraffin heater over to them and placed two chairs on either side of it.  Edmund still didn’t mention Clemence to Tino. 

After a while, Tino grew tired and got up and said he was going to take a nap to rest up for the evening.  Edmund cleaned up around the plane and then headed over to the canteen for some coffee.  Several men were there, and they had moved some of the tables off to the side and were busy putting together a pool table.  When Edmund asked, he was told that some of the pilots had purchased it and sent it over to Behonne for the crew to use.  None of them had ever put one together before, but among the group of mechanics were several talented craftsmen and woodworkers who quickly figured it out.  It took several men to maneuver the slate top into place, but eventually it was set up and men were clamoring around the table to play. 

As the afternoon turned into evening, more and more of the camp gathered at the canteen for dinner, many to play pool, but they were also there for Tino.  Edmund ate and sat off to the side with a cup of coffee.  He saw Luc playing a round of pool.  Soon, some of the men hung a banner on the wall that said Joyeux Noël!  It was Christmas Eve.  As he sat, he noticed that bottles of wine and other spirits had appeared.  Edmund sat and thought about what Clemence was doing.  Probably sitting by the fire with her mother, or maybe they have a full house at the café, and she is serving dinners to happy families, though no family in that town seemed intact.  Then he thought about his parents.  He wondered if they had decorated or put up a tree. He also thought about Penny.  She had already had all the Christmases she would ever have.

Edmund was startled when a large tin cup was placed down roughly on the table in front of him, and red wine was poured into it sloppily, so that it gurgled and glugged and splashed.  He looked first at the cup, and then at the bottle that was filling it, and then up the arm to the face.  It was Luc.  The two stared at each other for a moment without expression, then Luc smiled.  “Happy Christmas,” he said.  He walked away before Edmund could say anything.  Edmund looked down into the cup and then took a sip.  The tin from the cup gave the wine a metallic taste.  Edmund leaned his head against the wall and observed the men as they talked and yelled and drank.  They looked happy, and the noise erupted into cheers as Edmund saw Tino enter the room, limping noticeably.  Men were clapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Someone took his coat and hat and handed him a cup.  He looked over at Edmund and raised his cane as if in salute.  Edmund nodded back at him.  The party continued late into the night and into the early morning.  With Tino there, Edmund couldn’t help but be near the center of attention.  At one point, Sgt. Knox, along with William Thaw, came to have a drink with the mechanics and to wish Tino well. 

In the early morning light, Edmund helped Tino limp back to their tent.  He could feel how frail and thin Tino had become since the injury.  The next morning, Christmas Day, Edmund was awoken by Tino, who was shaking his shoulder as he was getting dressed in his best clothes.  “Come on.  Christmas Mass.” 

Edmund nodded and sat up and dressed quickly, before stopping and saying, “Christmas what?”

“Mass.”  Tino said as he tied his boots, not looking up at Edmund.

“Oh.  Right.” Edmund said.  He sat down on his bunk and began putting his boots on.  He finished quickly and looked over and Tino was still struggling with the boot on his injured side.  His face looked contorted in pain.  “Listen, I have never been to a Catholic service before. But I hear there is lots of kneeling and stuff.  Can you help me know what to do?”

“Sure,” Tino said, still struggling with his boot.  “Been doing it since I was at my mamma’s teat.  I could do it in my sleep.”  His boot finally tied, Tino stood.  Edmund thought he looked remarkably composed, considering the night he had before and the amount of pain he had just seen on the man’s face.  Edmund hoped he looked half as good, for he did not feel that way. 

The two made their way over to the canteen, that had been cleared of all the debris from the previous evening, and the pool table had been moved and draped and set up as an altar.  Most of the men who had stumbled out of this room in the wee hours were back, some in varying shades of green and grey.  The priest wore white robes, and the service was in Latin, and Tino showed Edmund when to kneel and when to pray.  Tino winced considerably every time he had to kneel and then get back up in his chair.  Tino also told Edmund not to take communion. 

During the final benediction, Edmund heard the door of the canteen slam.  He looked back and Thénault and Lufbery and two aides de camp stood by the doorway. 

As the priest was still finishing his final amen, Thénault was striding up the center aisle.  “Gentlemen,” he said as he stood in front of the pool table altar, “we have received intelligence that the Germans plan to step up their air campaign in this sector, beginning in the first few days of the new year.  They have gathered additional pilots and planes, as well as large amounts of fuel and munitions, including some new types of bombs. In addition, they have a new type of aircraft, a Fokker design, which we are still trying to get more information on. They are waiting for the same warm up in the weather that we are to get the runway cleared.”  He paused for a moment.  The room was silent.  “Right now, we are planning a New Year’s Day mission.  We hope to catch the Germans recovering from their previous evening’s revelries.” He laughed lightly as he said this.  “We think the weather will warm a bit this week, and we will be bringing in truckloads of rock and dirt to spread over the runway to give our boys a good surface to land on.  We will be organizing work crews starting tomorrow to resurface the airstrip.  Any questions?”  He stopped and looked around the silent room.  “Oh, and the admirable celebration that you had last night will have to serve as your New Year’s Eve party as well.  As the mission is at 4:00 in the morning, all celebrations are cancelled.  Have those planes ready, men.”  With that, he bowed to the priest who put his hand on Thénault’s head and said a blessing over him.  Thénault stood and put his hat on, and said, “Merry Christmas to all of you,” and strode down the aisle, his footsteps echoing loudly in the silent room, followed by a loud slam as the pilots and their aides left the hall.

The silence was broken by one of the cooks, who stepped out of the door from the kitchen and said, “Christmas Dinner will be ready in one hour.  Some of you dogs need to help turn this place back into a mess hall.”  Tino looked at Edmund and nodded toward the door. 

When they got outside, the sun was high in the sky, and Edmund could feel the warmth through his clothes.  “Sounds like it is going to be a hell of a week, eh?” Tino said to Edmund as he lit a cigarette.  He offered one to Edmund, who refused.  He was still feeling woozy from the previous evening. 

“Yes, sounds like it,” Edmund replied.

“Still, you already have Knox’s bird ready to go, so nothing much to be done there.”

“Yes, so that means more time to haul gravel.  Great.” 

Tino said that he was going to go back to the tent and lie down.  Edmund walked over to the administration building.  He was hoping, though he didn’t really want to admit it even to himself, for a letter from his mother.  He went into the office and the clerk handed him an envelope, but it had not come through the mail.  It simply had his name on the front.  He stepped out onto the front steps and opened the envelope. 

My dearest Edmund,

I should probably be remembering the night I spent in your arms with shame and regret, but I do not.  I miss you too much to pretend any false modesty.   Last night, I slept in the bed we shared.  I could still smell you on the pillow, but it was no comfort.  But I am not writing just to tell you of my loneliness. 

We have decided that Mother is going to take the train south to be with her sister in Marseille.  I have secured a ticket for her on December 27^th.  It was hard to get since many people have decided to flee to the south.  She cannot take the memories, or the fear that the Germans will be marching down the road any day now.  I have promised to close the café and join her in a month.  M. Fournier has agreed to help me board up the windows and doors, but I am going to ship all the valuables and family things before I leave.  I don’t think the place will survive intact with the war so close and order seeming to break down further every day. 

I hope with all of my heart to see you again before I leave.  But I know that nothing is certain.  If the past is all the time we will ever have together, I will lock it away in my heart and cherish the memories forever, and draw on them whenever I feel lonely.  I hope that is not our fate, but I learned long ago that we seldom get to choose our paths.

                                                            Clemence

            Edmund refolded the note and put it into his pocket and stood and stared at the gate and the road toward Behonne and Clemence.  The sun was high in the sky and it was warm enough that he unbuttoned his coat.  Slowly he turned back toward the canteen.  The snow was melting and turning the ground to mud, and Edmund trudged through it.  The Christmas dinner was ready, and he was among the first to arrive.  He ate quickly and then went back to his tent.

            Tino was still asleep when he got there, and Edmund woke him and told him to go eat.  Groggily, Tino staggered up and out of the tent.  Edmund sat at the small desk and wrote a letter back to Clemence.  He told her how much he missed her and how he didn’t want her to leave.  He leaned back in his chair and read what he had written and then tore the page in two and pulled out a fresh sheet.  He said that he missed her, and that he was glad for her mother, and he wanted to visit her again as soon as he could, but that it would probably not be until after New Year’s Day.  He sat back and tried to think of a way to write what he was feeling, but he couldn’t find any words that seemed right.  He read the letter again and realized that it didn’t say anything that he really wanted to say, but it was all he was able to write. 

He folded the letter and put it into an envelope and addressed it as completely as he could.  He put the note into his trunk and took off his muddy boots and his clothes down to his long underwear and crawled into his bunk.  He lay for a few moments, thinking about the café sitting empty and all boarded up, and then the next thing he knew was Tino shaking him awake early the next day.

“Get up.  The engineer is here with the gravel.  We have to report to the airstrip.  I brought you some bread and sausages and some coffee.”  Edmund got up and ate as he dressed in his dirtiest work clothes, and he and Tino made their way over to the airstrip.  All the men were assembling and an engineer with the French air service was there to direct them.   A large pile of gravel that had begun arriving on Christmas day lay to one side of the airstrip, beyond the last hangar.  The camp had two bulldozers, one of which Tino was designated to operate.  Edmund was glad, because he didn’t see how Tino would be able to do a lot of the work hobbling around on his cane. 

Edmund was assigned for the morning to a wheelbarrow, and in the afternoon to a rake.  By the end of the day, his hands were blistered and torn, and his whole body ached, but they had gotten a great deal accomplished.  The lower east end of the airstrip that usually stayed soft and somewhat muddy now had a thick layer of gravel and dirt compacted down to a firm surface.  As the men toiled, more loads of gravel continued to be dumped onto the pile, and at the end of the day, the supply of rock was larger than it had been at the beginning.  Edmund was particularly disheartened by this.  As dusk approached the men trudged wearily off, some to their tents, some to the canteen.  Edmund was famished and went to the canteen and ate a huge meal.  But when it came time to get up to leave, he had trouble straightening up, and he felt like it took him almost until he was at his own tent to be able to walk normally. 

Tino came into the tent as Edmund was struggling to get his boots off.  “How was it up on that bulldozer all day?”

“My backside is sore.  You should be glad you didn’t have to sit there all day.  You had it easy.”

Edmund just looked at him, and Tino grinned.  “Shut up,” Edmund said.  His second boot finally slid off, and his foot banged on the ground.  “I can barely move.”  He held up his hands, and the palms were blistered and bloody. 

Tino winced as he looked, and then said, “I think I have some old gloves that you can wear tomorrow.”  He opened up his trunk and threw a pair of work gloves onto Edmund’s bunk.

“Thanks.  These would have been good to have today.”

Tino shrugged.  “Sorry.”  He leaned down and took a bottle of clear liquid and some paper packets out of the bottom of his trunk.  He picked up their tin drinking cups and disappeared out of the tent.  He came back with two cups of water.  He tore open the paper packets and poured a white powder into each cup and stirred it with his knife.  He held one out to Edmund. “Here, this will make you feel better.”

Edmund took the cup and looked at its milky swirls.  “What is it?” 

“Morphine.  It will make you feel better.  They gave it to me in the hospital, and then some to come home with.  Drink it.”

Edmund sipped the liquid and it had a bitter taste.  He made a face.  He looked up, and Tino was gulping his cup, and then took it away and sighed contentedly.  “Just like mamma’s milk.  Doesn’t work quite as well this way, a syringe is better, but you gotta take what you can get.” 

Edmund looked back down at his drink and then gulped it down.  Tino handed the bottle to him.  “Here, this will get the taste out of your mouth.”  Edmund gulped the liquor, and it burned the back of his throat, but it did clear the bitter taste of the morphine.  He handed the bottle back to Tino.  “Come here,” Tino said.  “Stick your hands over the shaving bowl.”  Edmund stood and looked at Tino, and hesitated.  “Come here. You have to get those hands cleaned up.”  Edmund hesitated again, and Tino said, “Come on.  Don’t be a baby.”  Edmund stuck his hands over the bowl, palms up, and Tino poured the liquor over his torn and bleeding hands.  Edmund felt like he was holding his hands over a cold open flame, but as the pain shot up his arms, a wave of ease welling up from his midsection pushed ahead of the pain, and he relaxed.  “Put your hands down in the bowl and let them sit for a moment.”  He took a long drink from the bottle he had been pouring on Edmund.  “Waste of good booze.”  Tino rummaged around in his trunk again and pulled out some cotton bandages and took Edmund’s hands out and dried them and wrapped them.  Edmund began to sway as he stood and felt sleep overcoming him.  Tino walked him to his bed and threw the blankets over him as he lay down.  “Goodnight, princess.”

Once again, Edmund was awoken the next morning by Tino shaking him.  He had slept like a stone, and had stayed all night in the same position he had laid down in.  He sat up quickly before he was fully awake, but when his feet hit the floor and he stood, every muscle in his body burned with pain, and his hands felt as if the skin had been rubbed off with sand.  Tino tossed him more cotton bandages and told him to re-wrap his hands and keep the gloves on during the day. 

Slowly he got dressed and out of their tents to the runway.  When he began to work his muscles screamed with pain at first, but by mid-morning, he had finally loosened up.  Only his hands concerned him.  The blood mixed with sweat and dirt made a viscous mixture that caused the gloves to slide around on the palms.  The pain wasn’t too bad, but he was afraid to remove the gloves.  As the end of the day approached, Edmund could see that they were nearly finished.  Their evening routine was the same, except Edmund refused the morphine.  Instead, he washed at the bath house.  The palms of his hands were raw and bleeding, but he figured that with bandages and gloves, he could get through another day.  He was glad that the Nieuport was ready to go, because he didn’t think he would be able to do anything meticulous on it until his hands healed.

They finished the runway on the third day, and all the men stood and admired their work.  Edmund was proud of what they had accomplished together, though he missed the grass strip and the park-like feel it provided that existed before.  Still, this would be a much more secure, though harder, surface for the planes to land on.  They had compacted the gravel with the bulldozer and the trucks until it barely shifted when a man walked on it.

They had finished in the early afternoon, and for the most part, the men drifted back to their tents and were quiet, resting and sleeping.  Edmund again washed up in the bathhouse, and then cleaned his hands with the alcohol, taking a few deep drinks of it as he did, and then crawled into his bunk.  Again, he refused the morphine when Tino offered it, but Tino, Edmund noticed, took a hefty dose for himself.  Edmund didn’t put any bandages on his hands, and as he lay in his bunk, he could feel the skin burning where blisters had formed and been torn off and then blisters reformed and then were torn off again, sometimes several times over. 

They spent the next two days getting the Nieuport ready.  Tino did most of the work and allowed Edmund to sit and rest for the most part.  There really was not that much to do, and Tino’s activities were limited to just rechecking that everything was working properly.  Tino had gotten extra ammunition and stored it in various places around the cockpit. 

New Year’s Eve was spent waiting and quietly relaxing.  The mood of the camp was subdued.  Tino helped Sgt. Laurence Rumsey’s crew get some last-minute work done on his plane, and Edmund spent most of his time wondering what Clemence was doing, and making plans to see her when the mission was done.  He hoped there would be at least a brief window between missions so he could spend some time with her before she left.  

New Year’s Day finally came, and all the pilots arrived from the chateau in the pre-dawn darkness.  The entire squadron was taking part in this mission that was designed to destroy the major supply routes to the German front north of Verdun.  The air was crisp and frosty, but the sky was clear, and the planes began climbing into the sky at first light.  Dewey Short and Reuben Wood had come to witness the takeoff and stayed for the aftermath, along with two other ambulances with French crews.  The men built fires along the edges of the airstrip and sat and ate the breakfasts that had been prepared for the pilots which, as usual, were left mostly uneaten. 

Several of the men walked the length of the runway to see how it had held up under the airplane wheels and the tail draggers, but it looked good with hardly any deep ruts.  One plane, flown by Charles Johnson had to return early, and the men could hear the plane sputtering and coughing as it approached.  The men watched anxiously until the plane was safely on the ground, and Johnson leapt out and began yelling at his mechanics.  Tino leaned over to Edmund and said, “Sounds like some of the cylinders aren’t firing properly.”  Then as he heard Johnson yelling, he chuckled and said, “Poor bastards.”

Roughly two hours later, the spotter called everyone to attention and announced that the squadron was returning.  And indeed, they all did return.  Only a couple of the planes had suffered any damage at all from ground fire, and that was only minor. They had caught the Germans completely off guard, and they had only been able to scramble a few planes for any kind of defense, and those were quickly dispatched.  Knox had used almost all his ammunition but had no confirmed kills to claim.  In all, Edmund would learn later, the mission had destroyed a railhead and a truck depot, and they had also hit a nearby airbase, destroyed several planes where they sat on the ground and had bombed two hangars with an unknown number of planes inside.  The mission had been a stunning success, and every pilot made it back alive and unhurt. 

Edmund and Tino looked over Knox’s plane quickly, but aside from some smudges from the exhaust and some oil streaks, it looked as it had when it rolled out of the hangar that morning.  Trays of food and bottles of champagne were brought out and the pilots and crew celebrated on the edge of the runway.  Thénault announced that they planned to follow up with smaller missions in two days, and that raiding parties would be announced the next day.  Soon the pilots, each holding their own bottles, piled back into their cars and headed back to the chateau, and the men began putting the planes back into the hangars. 

Edmund and Tino spent the afternoon cleaning the Lewis gun, and wiping the oil and exhaust smudges off the fuselage, but there wasn’t much more to be done.  As they were sitting around the plane, with the pieces of the gun spread out on a tarp in front of them, Edmund asked if Tino minded if he were gone for a couple of days.

Tino looked at Edmund out of the side of his eyes, “Going far?”

“No, just into town.”

Tino looked down at the firing pin that he was scraping carbon off and smiled.  “Meeting a woman?”

Edmund didn’t answer right away, but then he said, “Possibly.”

“There is a pretty girl who lives above the Café Morel.”

Edmund nodded. “Clemence.”

“She is a war widow, no?”

“Yes.”  Edmund was running a cloth soaked in gun oil down the barrel of the gun.  “Do you know her?” Edmund said, trying to sound casual.

Tino shook his head.  “No.”  Then he looked up at Edmund and grinned.  “Seen her though.  She is quite beautiful.”

Edmund nodded.

“I make it a point to notice all the pretty women with a certain radius of me.  Especially lonely widows.”

Edmund nodded again.  “Her husband was killed over a year ago at Verdun.”

Tino finished with the piece he had been working on and said, “A sad, but not uncommon story.”

Edmund nodded again.  “So anyway, they are closing the café and moving south like everyone else.  I thought I would see if she needed any help packing up.”

Tino grinned at Edmund again.  “I’m sure she will be extremely grateful for your help.”

Edmund just nodded again. 

“Take as long as you need.  Hell, you held down everything here by yourself while I was lying on my ass at Lyon.  Besides, I know where to get hold of you if I need you.  I will make sure to knock loudly first if I have to come calling.”

Edmund went to the bath house and cleaned up and changed into some clean clothes.  The air was chilly, but the sunlight was bright and warmed his shoulders.  He went to the administration tent to see if any trucks were heading into Bar le Duc, but there were none scheduled for that day, but after rummaging around for a few moments in a stack on incoming mail, the clerk handed Edmund two envelopes.  Edmund thanked the clerk and stepped outside, and as he looked at the two envelopes, he walked through the gate and started off towards town.

He recognized the handwriting on one of the envelopes, it was from his mother and was postmarked December 10.  The handwriting on the second looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.  It was postmarked December 14, also from Annapolis.  Even though he was very curious about the second, out of deference, and since it was written earlier, he opened his mother’s letter first.  It was a bit difficult with his still-bandaged hands.  The letter contained two pages of news about home, including the large Thanksgiving Dinner they attended in Annapolis.  It made Edmund sad to think that there had been no Thanksgiving feast at home that year.  His mother obviously had not gotten his letter by the time she wrote this one. 

She said that his father was close to signing a contract with the Naval Academy to provide automobile repair services on base, and to help augment the Academy’s motor pool.  Edmund’s father was now fully in support of the United States entering the war, and in fact, she said, he is going around telling everybody that his son was already over there ‘helping the French.’  She said that he frets awfully, especially at night over Edmund’s safety, and wonders if he did the right thing by sending Edmund.  She assures him, she said, that he did, and that Edmund is safe. She concluded the letter with a plea to him to indeed keep himself safe until he could come home to them.

Edmund smiled as he walked.  He could see his father walking around with his chest puffed out telling everybody at church on Sundays that his son was singlehandedly beating the Germans.  With a wrench in my hand, Edmund thought.  Then he thought about the one German that he did kill and wondered if he was still lying in the clearing in the woods where he fell.  Edmund shivered suddenly.

The road had reached a stretch where woods had arisen on his left, and fields rolled off to the north on his right.  The snow was still pristine across most of the landscape, except for a solitary deer track that traipsed across the middle of one of the fields.  He remembered watching this view slide merrily by from the sleigh as he sat close to Clemence, feeling her warmth.

He folded the letter from his mother and put it into his coat pocket and then looked at the mystery envelope.  He knew the handwriting was familiar, but he just couldn’t place it.  He carefully tore it open and slid the letter out of the envelope.  It was one page, and Edmund quickly looked down at the signature.  It was from his friend from St. John’s, Lloyd James.  He was filled with a surge of remembrance and happiness.  He had forgotten how much he missed his friends, especially Lloyd. 

Edmund quickly began reading through the letter but slowed midway through and simply stared at the paper in front of him.  He stopped walking and stood in the middle of the road.  After a moment he lowered the letter to his side and looked around.  A large rock set off to the side marked the intersection of two country lanes, and he walked over and sat down on it.  He looked back down at the date at the top of the letter.  December 12.  What had he been doing on December 12?  He couldn’t remember.