aboard!”
“I’ll write as soon as I get on the train. I’ll mail it the first chance I get.” He looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I love you, Irene. When you think of me, remember that, as long as I live, I will love only you.”
He stood at the rail as the train slowly began to accelerate. It would take almost two whole days to travel southwest to Texas. He shaded his eyes with the back of his hand and stared at the white dress. She stood alone with the sun rising behind her. I’ll never see her again. The thought crashed into his head so fast that he actually lost his balance. Why would I feel that? he wondered. He shivered as the doomsday feeling began to overwhelm him. The sun fell behind a drifting cloud, momentarily shading all the landscape except for the little knoll where Irene stood. The white dress shimmered in the lone sunbeam that surrounded her. She waved with her right arm while her left hand rested on her hip. Before she disappeared, Em had the feeling again that he might never see her again.
Corbin Lowell Cook came bursting through the door. “Hey, Em, wake up! You look like you just lost your best friend, but that couldn’t be true. ’Cause I’m right here.” He looked at the spot where Emory was staring and said, “Hey, come on in. You can’t even see her anymore. She’ll be here when we get back.”
Em continued to stare at the tracks and said, “If we get back.”
“Shut up. Of course, we’re comin’ back. You will marry Irene, and I’ll live in the spare room. She’ll love it.” Corby pulled him toward the door.
The train pulled into the station. Emory and Corby stared out of the window. It looked like the busiest place on earth. They were still in a civilian train station, but it looked like the military had taken over. There were soldiers in uniform everywhere. Military vehicles were being lifted onto flatcars. Everywhere they looked, all they saw were soldiers. There were no women or children anywhere. Suddenly, they both felt very small.
“You ready for this, Em?” Corbin sat with his face almost touching the window.
Emory saw, to his amazement, just how young and inexperienced the two of them were. Here they were, barely eighteen years old, straight from the hills of Kentucky. What are we doing here? he thought. The two of them had seemed so mature and wise back home. Now Em felt as if he were going to school for the first time, although this was much more frightening. We are winning the war, he thought, and it is almost over. We’ll be home by Christmas. I’ll marry Irene, and everything is going to be as it should be.
“All right, you bunch of maggots! Line up and shut up!”
Here we go, Em thought. He and Corby stepped into the aisle and got in line. The next few hours were like a nightmare. Em and the rest of the bewildered young men were never left alone, even for one second. Someone, or a group of someones, were always in their faces, screaming or swearing. Emory thought he was a little better prepared for this than Corby. He had only seen Corby for brief seconds since they were lined up alphabetically. He assumed that they would be reunited later. He hoped that Corby shared his confidence.
Corbin Lowell Cook had been tagging along with Emory since they were the only boys at Sunday school back a few years before the war had begun. His family had always been poor even before the Depression. Corbin practically lived with Emory and his family. He was a skinny kid with even skinnier legs. His hair was cut uneven across his entire head. That, coupled with the fact that he rarely bathed, made his hair look like a rotting mophead. Along with the acne that was mercifully starting to diminish, he made for a rather puny figure.
After hours of waiting in lines and learning how to not make eye contact with anyone, Emory was finally shown the barracks where he would be housed for the next six to eight weeks. Just as he thought, the barracks were as minimal as could be. Fifty bunks lined up in two rows. Names already stenciled on the sides. Alphabetical.
Emory found his name on the sixth bunk from the end of the second row. He slung the heavy green duffel bag off his shoulder. It landed with a thump beside the foot locker at the end of the bed. The smell of mothballs wafted through the air. When Em heard the duffel bag hit the floor beside him, he turned to see the guy who had been in line behind him all day. He was rubbing his hand over his freshly shaved head.
“I don’t think we’re going to get to use those bunks any time soon, huh?” He rubbed his hand on his pant leg and then held it out. “I’m Jack. Jack Turner.” Em shook his hand and introduced himself. “Where you from?” Jack asked.
“Kentucky. How about you?” Emory kept feeling the need to look over his shoulder. He expected someone in uniform to come screaming into the room at any moment. No one had yelled at him in over five minutes. For just a brief moment, he started to feel a little normal.
“Florida.” Jack leaned against the wall and looked around the room. “Going to get crowded in here too.”
Em moved to the other side of the room and started to look at the names stenciled on the bunks directly across from him. He felt elated when he saw “Cook, C3981.” He quickly made his way back to his side of the room. The last thing he wanted was to be noticed. His plan to get through basic training was simple—lie low, keep your mouth shut, and don’t volunteer for anything. Em really believed the war was soon to be a part of history. He hoped that the training he was about to receive would be used to fly soldiers home from “over there.” He also hoped, and this was his greatest hope, that Corby could somehow keep up and maybe even excel in his training. He had always kind of looked out for Corby. He really was like a little brother.
*****
Once, when Em and Corby were twelve years old, they were riding horses along the fencerow of Em’s father’s farm. His father had told him that the fence was in pretty good shape. It should not take them more than an hour and a half to ride it and repair any area of concern. However, as Em learned—not for the first time—when Corby was involved, things usually got out of hand.
They had begun their task around seven o’clock in the morning. It was now almost noon, and they were barely halfway around the seventy-five acres. Corby had accomplished nothing. Between seven and eight, all they had done was saddle the horses. Every time he watched Corby saddle one of the horses, it was as if he was watching him do it for the first time. Every time, the first thing Corby would do was throw the saddle on backward. Then he would swear and try to calm the horse. Once, the saddle was on the horse’s back. He needed to get the strap under the horse’s belly. As he reached under the horse, trying to reach the other end of the strap, he looked as though he was tickling the poor animal. The horse began to sidestep, and he bent over even farther, walking like a duck, reaching for the strap. While he walked blindly, he forgot how close he was to the pond. He waddled straight under the horse and into the water. However, he did manage to grab the strap. This enabled him to pull the saddle off the horse and onto his head, sending him and the saddle into the muddy water.
When he and Corby had finally begun to ride the fencerow at eight forty-five, Corby’s trouble seemed to escalate. His father’s farm was notorious for the rock that seemed to grow from the ground. Over the years, some interesting things had been built from the endless supply of field rock. Now, Corby was navigating his horse through a very uneven section of creek bottom. Dynamite, Corby’s horse, decided that Corby’s route was not that acceptable, so he proceeded to return to the main trail. The shortest path was straight up the bank. He went that way. He did not care who was on his back. His only concern was getting himself under the branch. The person on his back would have to look out for himself.
Corby dove off the side of the horse and landed in the watery creek bed. This was not the last time he would wind up in the creek. Em rode over to Corby’s horse and calmed him down. Corby climbed out of the creek. After helping Corby back onto his horse, Em persuaded him to stay on the path.
The next couple of hours went as smoothly as possible where Corby was concerned. There were only two places where they had to repair any fence, but here it was almost eleven o’clock in the morning, and they had a long way to go. Em wished they had brought some food. Just then, Corby and his horse started to gallop. Before Em could do anything, the distance between his and Corby’s horse grew. Still