Lone eagle

“Fine? You call this fine?” He plunged a fork into his mashed potatoes, they were like wallpaper paste, and her chicken was so tough she couldn't eat it. “It takes me two days to get over the stomachache I get every time I eat dinner with you.” But all Kate could think about were the rations that Joe was getting in England. It would have seemed shocking to her if she were going to expensive restaurants with Andy, and she just wouldn't do it. If he wanted to spend time with her, he had no choice but to eat in the cafeteria at school.

Other than Kate refusing to go out with him, Andy had an active social life. He was tall, dark, and handsome, and one of the few eligible men left on campus and not going off to war. Girls were practically lining up to go out with him, and he could have had just about anyone, except the one girl he wanted. He wanted Kate.

Andy was consistent about coming to visit her, and over the months, they established a strong bond of friendship. She liked him enormously, but she felt none of the things for him she did for Joe. What she felt for Andy was solid and quiet and comfortable, it had none of the fire and passion and irresistible pull she felt toward Joe. Andy seemed more like a brother. They played tennis together several times a week, and finally around Easter time, she let him take her to a movie, but she felt guilty about it. They went to see Mrs. Miniver with Greer Garson, and Kate cried all the way through.

She was getting letters from Joe several times a week, and she could only guess that he was flying Spitfires on missions with the RAF. But as long as the letters kept coming, she knew he was alive and well. She lived in constant terror that she would read in the paper that his plane had been shot down, and her hands shook as she opened the newspaper every morning. She knew that, as well known as he was, and because of his association with Charles Lindbergh, she would read about it before anyone would have a chance to warn her. But so far, in his letters, he seemed to be in good spirits and well. He had complained bitterly about the cold and the bad food all winter in England. And in May, he wrote about how beautiful the spring was, he said there were flowers everywhere, and even the poorest people had lovely gardens. But he hadn't told her he loved her since he left.

At the end of May, the RAF flew a thousand bombers in a night bombing raid over Cologne. Joe never mentioned it, but when Kate read about it, she was certain Joe had been there. In June, Andy graduated from Harvard in three years on an accelerated program, and would be going straight into law school in the fall. Kate finished her freshman year, went to Andy's graduation, and went to work full time for the Red Cross over the summer. She rolled bandages, and folded warm clothes to be sent overseas. They mailed packages, provided medicines, and spent a great deal of time doing small useful things. It wasn't an exciting job, but it seemed like the least she could do for the war effort. Even in her small circle of friends, there had already been tragedies. Two of the girls in her house had lost brothers on ships torpedoed by the Germans, and another one had lost two. One of her roommates had gone home to help her father run the family business. Several fiancés had been killed, and of the five girls who had gotten married over Christmas, one had already lost her husband and gone home. It was hard not to think about it, as one looked constantly into saddened eyes and worried faces. The thought of getting a telegram from the War Department chilled everyone's heart.

Andy was doing volunteer work in a military hospital that summer. He wanted to do something to make up for the fact that he hadn't been able to go to war with the rest of the able-bodied young men. And when he called Kate, he told her horror stories of the wounded men he saw, and the experiences they shared with him. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, except maybe Kate, but as he listened to them, there were moments when he was actually glad he hadn't been able to go to war. Most of the men they saw had been in Europe, the ones who were wounded in the Pacific went to hospitals on the West Coast to recuperate. Many of them had lost limbs and eyes and faces, they had stepped on mines or were filled with shrapnel. And Andy said there was an entire ward filled with men who had lost their minds over the trauma they'd been through. Just thinking about it horrified both of them. And they knew that in the coming months, it could only get worse.