A Piece of the Soldier’s Heart

*Story contains descriptions of actual and fictional military events, and the emotional effects of war.

I

A gust of cold air made it in one final time before the doors were latched shut. Twenty-three year old Private Joseph Harvey looked side to side throughout the full Douglas C-54 Skymaster. He thought he was lucky to have a seat along the wall instead of the floor for the six hour flight. But he didn’t know if luck was going to bring him home. Maybe he would get to see her again. But maybe she would have to carry on with just the memory of him.

The floor shook as the engines started up. His stomach knotted, his face got warm, and he felt motionless. It seemed like his senses were confused. He could feel to the sound of the engines more than the thunderous roar he expected to hear. As the jet jerked forward and started it’s slow roll Joe felt a piece of his inner self being left behind.

“Here we go men. Godspeed.”

After his remarks, Joe looked to his platoon leader as he reclaimed his seat. He could tell he spoke from the single gold bar on his collar. But his face said something different. His face looked like the rest of them. Car mechanics, farmers, school teachers, and those who just five months ago were embraced by their parents on the night of their high school graduation.

Joe reached into his jacket pocket for her picture. His eyes started to tear, but he quickly held it back. Time seemed to pause as he became lost in her smile. He was trying to keep still, but his hand couldn’t keep from shaking. It wasn’t just her picture he carried with him. It was the memory. The bond. On the back of photograph Betty had kissed the blank canvas with bright red lipstick. It took him back to the moment they met. It made him smile on the inside and slowed the tremble in his hands.

As the C-54 made the turn onto the runway he took one last look at Betty’s smile; one last look at her kiss. As the plane throttled up and started it’s roll he kissed the back of the photograph and placed it back in the pocket closest to his heart.

As the nose of the plane lifted, he grabbed onto the steel bench with his left hand, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tightly grasped the bracelet she made him with his free hand.

It was November 10, 1942. Joe was heading for England to join his fellow patriots in the fight to save Europe. World War II was ready for Joe, but was he ready for it? Were any of them really? As if they had a choice.

II

December 7, 1941

He had managed to sleep in, well, if 7am was sleeping in. Compared to feeding the cows at sunrise on his family’s Litchfield, Connecticut dairy farm, this was a treat. Instead, today he looked through his bedroom window to see the sun rising over the oak tree in his back yard. He was looking forward to today. But, by the time the sun set that Tuesday, things would never be the same. The course of history would have been changed. He just didn’t know it yet.

***

“Ma, I’m heading into town to meet Stuart. I’ll be back for supper.”

“Okay, but don’t be late. You know how I worry.”

“I know, I know, I won’t make you worry. See you later Ma.”

Joe made his way down the gravel driveway to start his trek into the Litchfield town square. It was a little over a mile, but getting a walk in on such a beautiful day was just what he needed. Time to clear his head and fill his stomach with beer and sausages.

Joe was heading to the West Street Saloon to meet up with his childhood friend. But today wasn’t just any old visit, today they were going to check out what all the fuss was over. To see the television that was installed. It was the first in town, and the curiosity keeping folks coming by.

He continued his walk with the warmth of the sun on the back of neck breaking through the brisk Connecticut air. It was 2:30pm.

***

“Stewie!”

“Hey there pal. Nice being off the farm for a bit, huh?”

“Yeah. I needed this today. I’ve been at it for twelve days straight.”

They met up a couple blocks before the saloon and caught up on the way. As they turned the corner onto West Street they noticed a large crowd around the entrance to the saloon. They figured there would be more of a gathering than usually with the television, but this seemed to be an awful lot for the middle of the day.

“You think they’re all here for the television?”

“I mean, I guess? Want to go somewhere else; check it out another day?”

“Nah, we came all the way here for it, and who knows when you’ll be off the farm again.”

The closer they got, the smaller the path to the door seemed. As they slowly pushed their way through the crowd, they couldn’t help but notice the looks on everyone’s face. They hadn’t seen those looks since the Monday before Halloween in 1929. The financial crash that quieted the roar of the twenties. People were crying; strangers were physically embracing each other. One man was on his knees, sobbing with his face in his hands. All this over television? But it wasn’t the television that was bringing out the emotion. It was what was on it. Joe finally got close enough to see.

“Stew, look. What in the world is that?!”

Joe’s first television experience were the images of black smoke and fire coming off the water. Palm trees missing half their palms. Unrecognizable twisted steel.

The graphic at the base of the smoke read: AMERICA AT WAR - PEARL HARBOR ATTACKED.

Stuart grazed his hand through his hair and turned to Joe with a look of grief and fear. They both couldn’t look away from the coverage. No one could. Joe put his arm on Stuart’s shoulder just as he began to tear up.

What they didn’t know at the time was not only was the course of the US involvement in the war about to change, but so were theirs. Nothing would truly prepare them for what they would receive in the mail six months later.

III

January 26, 1942

Joe and Stuart took their seats at the bar facing the television. They wanted a break from the fear that had settled into Litchfield but couldn’t avoid it. As usual the television broadcast was focused on the aftermath of Pearl Harbor and the conflict in Europe. They watched as the first images come through the US Army’s 34th Infantry Division arriving in Belfast. The first US troops to join the war raging in Europe.

“Joe, what do you think this will mean for us?”

“I don’t know my friend. But all I keep thinking about is that draft we had to sign up for back in ‘40.”

“Just seems like a bunch of malarkey. I mean to force us to go?”

“Seems pretty on the up and up, Stew. Let’s just keep our fate in our prayers.”

IV

February 7, 1944 - 14:21 hrs

The boys hadn’t returned yet from their mission outside of London. The waiting was the worst part. Who from the morning mess would join them for supper. Who would they raise a glass for. This Monday mission was no different on the base; quiet. Joe felt guilty he wasn’t assigned to this one, but relieved just the same. Though he cherished these moments, this was when he could talk with her.

My Dear Betty,

This morning was a real gas! I was in charge of breakfast for the boys, and you wouldn’t believe what day it was, oatmeal. You know how I can’t make oatmeal. It reminded me of the day I made it for you, and it turned into clay that we could have used to patch that leak in our barn roof. I thought of the laugh we shared and saw your smile. I miss you so much my love. Know I hold you in my heart everyday. Maybe, I’ll try out that oatmeal again once I’m back home.

Love,

Joe

As Joe sealed the envelope, he heard the creak of the screen door to the barracks.

“All of you, lets go!”

His Staff Sergeant abruptly motioned them out front.

“The boys need our help. They’re getting flanked from all sides. We’re heading out in ten minutes.”

Joe laced his boots and gathered his gear. He left his letter to Betty under his pillow for safe keeping.

The next day, Joe’s bunk mate made sure to send Betty’s letter home.

V

June 12, 1942

It had been a difficult afternoon. This Friday was different, and the weekend was going to be far from normal.

As Joe walked into town to meet Stuart he just kept replaying the moment he opened the letter. That moment he told his parents. How he felt more of their pain than the uncertainty he wrestled with on the inside.

West Street had been quieter since December, no one seemed in the mood to celebrate much. The saloon at least had a decent crowd.

“Joe, over here. Saved a spot for yah.”

Stuart already had a drink waiting for him. They clasped hands and gave each other a half a hug.

“What did yours say? When do you have to report, Stew?”

“September 24th. Heading somewhere outside Boston, you?”

“Same, but somewhere in upstate New York.”

“What did your parents say?”

“They were quiet. My Mom sobbed, and just held me. My Dad just seemed to be looking through us. Seemed stunned really, but angry at the same time. They’re glad we’re meeting up tonight.”

“Joe…you think we ship out right after basic?”

“I wish I knew. Who knows, maybe it’ll be all over before we have to.”

As Joe and Stuart ate and reminisced about their childhood. Shared laughs, and planned what their future after the war could look like, Stuart saw something from a group of four ladies at a table across the saloon. He pushed his elbow into Joe’s left rib.

“What was that for?”

“Look, over there.”

“What, look at where?”

“The girl in the blue dress. She keeps looking at you and smiling.”

“No she isn’t. Come on, Stew.”

“Really, she is. Keeps giggling with her friends too each time she looks away.”

“Go talk to her. Come on Private Harvey.”

“I’m no Private yet, and neither are you, so cool your jets.”

“Well fine, I’ll go over there and talk to her for you then.”

“Don’t even think about…”

As Joe scolded Stuart he was interrupted by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He slowly turned and saw her smile for the first time.

“Hi, I’m Betty, and you might be?”

“I’m, uh…Joe; Joe Harvey?”

“Nice to meet you Joe. You come here a lot?”

“From time to time. You?”

“First time in. Just moved up here with some friends of mine. We were tired of being in Queens. Wanted something a bit calmer. Couldn’t be happier so far.”

“Oh that’s swell Betty, real swell.”

Joe was having a hard time putting words together. He never felt this way. But he never had felt so lost in someone’s eyes before. He felt weightless. It seemed like time had slowed. Suddenly, a day that held a dark cloud over him seemed to clear the way for rays of sun.

“Maybe, next time we come in Joe, we can together?”

“I’d like that, Betty, very much?”

“Super, tomorrow night then, six o’clock?”

“Sounds wonderful, Betty. It’s a date.”

Betty smiled, leaned over and gave Joe a kiss on his cheek. He blushed, smiled and turned to Stuart with his eye brows raised in awe.

Betty and Joe would spend nearly everyday together until Joe left for upstate New York. Their love for one another was apparent from that first moment their eyes met and grew stronger through every hour that grew closer to his deployment.

His platoon was given a few days of leave to visit family one final time before the trip over the Atlantic. He knew what he had to do. He had been thinking about it since he first saw her smile.

Two days before Joe headed for England, he and Betty were married.

***

Betty’s eyes watered as he got in line. His Dad consoled his mother.

“You come back to me Joe, you hear me.”

“I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”

Joe hugged Betty and his parents a final time before boarding the bus to basic. As the bus pulled away with the boys waving their outstretched arms through the open windows, all of them waving back just kept wondering how many seats would be filled on the return trip.

VI

February 7, 1944 - 18:35 hrs

The darkness had taken hold of the day. The snow pummeled them from above, as their lives were at the mercy of what they couldn’t see through the tree line.

“GET DOWN!”

Each one that whizzed past seemed closer than the last, as the earth was uprooted from each blast.

“Get low boys, take cover, use the….”

“Medic! … Medic!”

He couldn’t just lay there. He had to act, and it had to be now. Joe took three quick breaths and headed east out of the foxhole.

“Where the hell are you going, Joe?! Get down!”

“I have to get him, Sarge.”

“Come on kid, keep calling out, I’m coming for yah!”

“Medic! … Medic!”

Joe reached his fallen brother and applied a tourniquet.

“You’ll be okay, kid. Hang in there. I got you.”

“Okay. Just don’t leave me.”

“Don’t look down, look at me. Come on kid, look at me.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Alright, ready. One…two…three.”

“Ahhhhhh!”

It happened as Joe threw him over his shoulder and headed back west.

“No! Anyone see them?!”

“I can’t see threw it Sarge. I got nothing.”

Joe’s Sergeant threw his helmet and screamed into the falling snow.

VII

They watched from the tarmac as the C-54 broke through the clouds on it’s final approach. They waited for this day for so long, but hoped it wouldn’t come to this. It was going to be different now; forever changed. The closer the jet approached, the more somber it became. The more they embraced each other. The more the honor guard came to attention.

A small cloud of white smoke surrounded the tires as the plane touched down. It was almost as if the ground shock. He was finally home. Finally back where he belonged. Just not the welcome they had envisioned.

***

As the plane came to rest, he looked over the crowd. The sun reflected off his Bronze Star and illuminated his Purple Heart. He sighed with relief, but carried the grief with him over the Atlantic. All of him returned, but a piece would forever be left in England. Joe was home, and was ready to see his family. Ready to see her. How he longed to embrace his dear Betty.

The gate was lowered to a sea of families waiting and the sound of trumpet. They came to attention as their fallen brothers and sisters were reunited with their loved ones. Joe followed behind, slowly down the ramp. As he took his first steps back on US soil, he seemed to briefly separate from the pain emanating from his left knee.

Joe saw his Mom tightly grasp Stuart’s arm and held her free hand over her mouth. She was filled with emotion. The three thousand miles between them had shrunk to about fifty feet. The closer they got, the faster the pace. At last, the warmth of his mother’s hug. His father saluted his son and shook his hand.

Joe looked around; searching. He didn’t see her.

“Where’s Betty? She back at the house?”

Joe’s Mom looked to the ground. Stuart and Joe’s father starred at each other. He was puzzled by their reactions.

“What - what is it?”

His Mom gently placed her hand on his chest, “Joe, lets head home, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Ma, where’s Betty?”

Stuart put his hand on Joe’s shoulder.

“Joe, let’s head to the car and we can talk at home.”

Joe sharply pulled back.

“Stew, stop whatever this is. Where is Betty, where is my wife!”

“Joe…Betty is gone. I’m so sorry my friend.”

“What do you mean she’s gone? Where the hell did she go?”

“She’s passed Joe. She watching over us now.”

Joe took two slow steps backward. He fell to his knees and dropped his head into his lap. He punched the ground and screamed. His father placed his hand on his son’s back and knelt beside him. Stuart held Joe’s Mom.

“Why…what; what happened?”

His father got on his knees and held his son’s face in his hands. Wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It was two months ago, son. She fought a hard battle with pneumonia. She wanted you to know how much she loved you, and cherished the time you shared.”

His father helped him up. Joe looked to the sky placing his wedding band over his heart. He reached for Betty’s photograph that held her kiss. The whole time he carried the dread that she may have to carry on without him. With just his memory. But now, he would carry on with her memory. Her smile. Her laugh. He would always carry her photograph. He would forever carry Betty’s final kiss.

Historical References (By Scene)

I

https://www.amcmuseum.org/at-the-museum/aircraft/c-54m-skymaster/

https://www.army.mil/ranks/

II

https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/topics/pearl-harbor-december-7-1941#overview

https://www.cs.cornell.edu/pjs54/Teaching/AutomaticLifestyle-S02/Projects/Vlku/history.html#:~:text=By%20the%20end%20of%20the%2030s%2C%20there%20were%20a%20few,commercial%20which%20made%20them%20%247.00.

https://www.britannica.com/event/Pearl-Harbor-attack

III

https://www.nationalww2museum.org/students-teachers/student-resources/research-starters/draft-and-wwii

https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/articles/american-soldiers-arrive-united-kingdom-1942

VII

https://www.army.mil/ranks/

https://veteranmedals.army.mil/home/us-army-medals-award-badges-ribbon-and-attachments-information/us-army-service-campaign-medals-and-foreign-awards-information