AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No—it can’t be.The Battle of Midway was a success, a turning point.
The eight pancakes in her stomach turned over, and she ran for the toilet before her stomach emptied right on the welcome mat.
During wartime, no one wanted a telegram. And now Ginny knew why.
From Russell to Avis
August 5, 1942
Dear Avis,
Not much to report so far. Calm seas, good visibility. Not that we’ve seen anything of importance, though Stephen, the city boy, yelled that he’d spotted a periscope. Thankfully, I checked it out before anyone grabbed the ship-to-shore radio. It was the fin of a porpoise. An American one.
Besides that drama, we’ve shot at some floating rubber targets with a machine gun for practice, and they even let us try out a depth charge. To be honest, it looks a lot like a plain metal paint can with a detonator, only heavier. You’re supposed to chuck it overboard as close to your target as you can, then let it sink down deep as you row away. From the coast guard’s safety drills, we thought it’d cause a geyser you could see miles around. Sure, you could hear a boom, but the spray barely went up three feet. I don’t mind saying we were a little let down.
We’ve heard some have taken to calling us the Hooligan Navy. (I don’t mind the name, but Lester went on for fifteen minutes straight about disrespect when he caught wind of it.) Just because the coast guard has more rules and regulations doesn’t mean we’re not real sailors. In fact, we’re more so than they are, if you ask me. We follow our instincts, our sea sense, not rules out of a book.
How narrowly I missed all of that! You know, I’m not even mad anymore about the recruiters turning me down because of my asthma. It all worked out for the best, didn’t it?
We do some fishing. Lester, the old rumrunner, taught me to use a harpoon to strike at swordfish, though I’m nogood yet. Biggest danger so far is from sunburn and heat stroke. We’ve all had to get used to drinking more water.
If Hemingway ever writes a novel based on the Hooligan Navy, mark my words, it’ll be more about long days fishing and staring at the ocean than dangerous exploits.
Boy, do I miss you. A lot of the other fellows are true bachelors, young pups who haven’t settled down, or widowers like Lester. They tease me sometimes for writing these letters, but I think they’re just jealous they don’t have someone out there waiting for them.
Yours, sunburnt and with regrets,
Russell
Notes from the Blackout Book Club—August 8, 1942
Taken by Avis Montgomery, Head Librarian and Book Club Secretary
Book under discussion:The Velveteen Rabbitby Margery Williams, illustrated by William Nicholson
Members Present: the Regulars, minus Ginny and plus Danny Maloney, Muriel Whitson, Earl Bell, Arley Lokken, Carol Ann Hoper, Diana Follett and kids (Linda, age ten, and a toddler they call “Duckie”), Hamish and Eva Murray, and Tom and Hazel Joyce and Susanna (age nine, heard about the club from Linda).
Odd thing: Martina and the kids were nearly a half hour late, since they’d had to take a bus into town. Apparently Ginny never showed to pick them up. Probably sleeping in or just forgot. Rosa was quite upset, but we assured her we hadn’t started the club without her.
Once settled, I said the story was a charming childhood tale, though a bit unrealistic. Mrs. Whitson claimed it was more than that—it was a parable about the risk of loving and being loved. Delphie disagreed, saying she thought it was more about why you oughtn’t to judge or snub someone for how they looked. Martina asked why they couldn’t both be right, and that settled things, more or less.
When prompted, Rosa declared that she liked the rabbits, especially the way they danced and their fuzzy tails, and the fairy saving things in the end. This was celebrated as the literary criticism of the evening, and my plate of sugar-cookie bunnies with frosted features was passed around in celebration. Rosa was very pleased with the attention.
Somehow, hearing what others loved about the story made me want to read it again.
We also talked at length about what it meant to be Real, especially the Skin Horse’s idea that “when you’re Real you don’t mind being hurt.” Quite touching.
In any case,The VelveteenRabbitwas another success. Miss Cavendish grumbled about how it might give children the idea that their toys were real, thus creating unnecessary attachment, but we all told her there was very little chance of that.
If I’m a mother someday—when I’m a mother, I mean—I want a picture from this book hanging in the nursery.
All in all, a good discussion. Miss Cavendish was so pleased that she didn’t even make another of her pointedly arch comments about our time here drawing to a close.
Of course, given that Rosa had her turn, we let Gio select the next book, which saved us from another quarrel. He choseTreasure Island. Didn’t Russ pick that as one of his favorites? I should write him back and tell him.
twenty-eight
GINNY
