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"Oh, Christ," said Gus, and he began to cry.
Woody had never seen his father cry.
"I'm sorry, sir," said Ray. "The message is that he's dead."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
1944
Woody stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom at his parents' Washington apartment. He was wearing the uniform of a second lieutenant in the 510th Parachute Regiment of the United States Army.
He had had the suit made by a good Washington tailor, but it did not look good on him. Khaki made his complexion sallow, and the badges and flashes on the tunic jacket just seemed untidy.
He could probably have avoided the draft, but he had decided not to. Part of him wanted to continue to work with his father, who was helping President Roosevelt plan a new global order that would avoid any more world wars. They had won a triumph in Moscow, but Stalin was inconstant, and seemed to relish creating difficulties. At the Tehran Conference in December, the Soviet leader had revived the halfway-house idea of regional councils, and Roosevelt had had to talk him out of it. Clearly the United Nations organization was going to require tireless vigilance.
But Gus could do that without Woody. And Woody was feeling worse and worse about letting other men fight the war for him.
He was looking as good as he ever would in the uniform, so he went into the drawing room to show his mother.
Rosa had a visitor, a young man in navy whites, and after a moment Woody recognized the freckled good looks of Eddie Parry. He was sitting on the couch with Rosa, holding a walking stick. He got to his feet with difficulty to shake Woody's hand.
Mama had a sad face. She said: "Eddie was telling me about the day Chuck died."
Eddie sat down again, and Woody sat opposite. "I'd like to hear about that," Woody said.
"It doesn't take long to tell," Eddie began. "We were on the beach at Bougainville for about five seconds when a machine gun opened up from somewhere in the swamp. We ran for cover, but I got a couple of bullets in my knee. Chuck should have gone on to the tree line. That's the drill--you leave the wounded to be picked up by the medics. Of course, Chuck disobeyed that rule. He stopped and came back for me."
Eddie paused. There was a cup of coffee on the small table beside him, and he took a gulp.
"He picked me up in his arms," he went on. "Darn fool. Made himself a target. But I guess he wanted to get me back in the landing craft. Those boats have high sides, and they're made of steel. We would have been safe, and I could have gotten medical attention right away on the ship. But he shouldn't have done it. Soon as he stood upright, he got hit by a spray of bullets--legs, back, and head. I think he must have died before he hit the sand. Anyway, by the time I was able to lift my head and look at him, he just wasn't there anymore."
Woody saw that his mother was controlling herself with difficulty. He was afraid that if she cried, he would too.
"I lay on that beach beside his body for an hour," Eddie said. "I held his hand all the time. Then they brought a stretcher for me. I didn't want to go. I knew I'd never see him again." He buried his face in his hands. "I loved him so much," he said.
Rosa put her arm around his big shoulders and hugged him. He laid his head on her chest and sobbed like a child. She stroked his hair. "There, there," she said. "There, there."
Woody realized that his mother knew what Chuck and Eddie were.
After a minute Eddie began to pull himself together. He looked at Woody. "You know what this is like," he said.
He was talking about the death of Joanne. "Yes, I do," Woody said. "It's the worst thing in the world--but it hurts a little less every day."
"I sure hope so."
"Are you still in Hawaii?"
"Yes. Chuck and I work in the enemy land unit. Used to work." He swallowed. "Chuck decided we needed to get a better feel for how our maps were used in action. That's why we went to Bougainville with the marines."
"You must be doing a good job," Woody said. "We seem to be beating the Japs in the Pacific."
"Inch by inch," Eddie said. He glanced at Woody's uniform. "Where are you stationed?"
"I've been at Fort Benning, in Georgia, doing parachute training," Woody said. "Now I'm on my way to London. I leave tomorrow."
He caught his mother's eye. Suddenly she looked older. He realized her face was lined. Her fiftieth birthday had passed with no big fuss. However, he guessed that talking about Chuck's death while her other son stood there in army uniform had struck her a hard blow.
Eddie did not pick that up. "People say we'll invade France this year," he said.
