Walter Brewer Home
Jamesville, North Carolina
Sunday Afternoon, August 16, 1942
For an afternoon, at least, the world
seemed right again to Walter. God had granted a temporary reprieve
from the oppressive Carolina heat and humidity and replaced it with
gorgeous, fall-like weather for his three-day weekend at home. The
Almighty’s timing was perfect for what might become his last
weekend in Jamesville for a long time.
Enticed by a cool breeze under a deep Carolina blue sky, Walter, Jessie, and Ellie, who had brought the kids up from Plymouth to play with their cousins, sat in the lawn chairs under the pecan tree in the backyard behind the big, white frame house.
Their conversation was not as pleasant as the weather.
“You’re going to be doing what?” Jessie demanded.
Walter needled his fork into the rich slice of pecan pie Jessie had prepared for his homecoming weekend.
“It’s called being a paratrooper,” he said before sipping his iced tea. “It’s an excellent opportunity to become an officer.”
“Let me get this straight.” A worried look crossed her face. “You’re going to be jumping out of airplanes?”
He savored a bite of the ultra-rich dessert for a few seconds. Nobody could make pecan pie like Jessie. With a concoction of rich syrup, vanilla, sugar, pecans, and butter, Jessie’s pecan pie recipe was a state secret in Jamesville that all the ladies in the church had tried cracking.
“Did I tell you how much I miss your pecan pie?”
“Did I tell you how much I do not miss you changing the subject when I ask you a question you don’t want to answer?”
“Got me again, Jessie,” Walter replied. “Okay, what would you like to know?”
She met his eyes then glanced at Ellie. Looking back to Walter again, she said in an even sharper tone, “I’d like to know if you’re more likely to get killed getting shot at or jumping out of airplanes.”
Walter pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time.
It’s a long drive back to Fort Bragg. I need to get on the road.
He looked at Jessie. “Right about now, in Louisiana, the Army is inaugurating a brand new airborne division. They’re gong to call it the 101st Airborne Division, and they want me to serve as an officer in it. The pay will be more than twice as much as I’m getting now. That’s more money to send home to you and the children. It’s a great opportunity.”
She glowered at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I give up, Madame Prosecutor. Your question, as I understand it, is this—Am I more likely to die jumping out of an airplane or getting shot at? And here’s my answer—I am more likely to die getting shot at than jumping out of an airplane.”
“Walter, you’re afraid to use a stepladder to change a light bulb. You’ve got the worst fear of heights of anybody I know. And you expect me to believe you’re going to jump out of an airplane?”
Thanks for reminding me about my acrophobia.
“The Army has this down to a science. We carry a parachute that is strapped to us. It’s like a huge sheet that opens up when we jump out of the airplane. We are in a harness that’s tied to the parachute by ropes. Then we float slowly down to the earth. It’s sort of like a bubble or a snowflake floating through the air. It’s very safe.”
If that’s true, why am I about to wet my pants just thinking about it?
“And just how many times have you actually tried this safe procedure, Walter?”
Why is this conversation making my hands shake?
“I pack my bags tomorrow morning and take a bus down to Fort Benning in Georgia. There, I’ll go through both officer candidate school and then jump school. I’ll leave there, Lord willing, commissioned as a second lieutenant in the United States Army. From there, I’ll go to Louisiana to join up with the hundred and first, where I will take command of a company of other paratroopers.”
“Louisiana?”
“That’s where the airborne division is being formed, Jessie.” He looked into her eyes again and saw them watering.
There were a few seconds of awkward silence.
“I guess that means no more coming home every other weekend.” Jessie’s voice started to crack. Walter reached over and took her hand.
“Maybe I should give you two a few minutes,” Ellie said.
“No, stay Ellie,” Jessie said. “The children are having a good time.” She took her hand from Walter and wiped her eyes. “It’s just that this change . . .” She swiped her hand across her cheek. “I’m not used to it. With the article in the News and Observer this morning and now hearing this, it’s just a bit much.”
“What article?” Ellie asked.
“About the war,” Jessie said. “We’re attacking some islands in the Pacific.”
“Oh, I hadn’t seen that,” Ellie said.
“I’ll go get you the paper.” Jessie stepped into the house and brought back the Sunday edition of the Raleigh News and Observer, dated August 16, 1942. She handed it to Ellie. “If you two will excuse me for a minute, I’m going in the kitchen to make Walter a care package before he has to leave.”
Walter sipped his sweetened iced tea and watched Jessie walk back into the house again. He knew what her care package would include—two slices of pecan pie, a batch of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, several fresh biscuits, lemon bars, and a couple of pieces of fried chicken for the road.
Walter looked at Ellie, who was dressed in a modest white spring dress and white shoes. She was sporting a healthy tan against her blonde hair. She was even more beautiful in her early thirties than when they were engaged. She did not look back at him. Her attention was on the lead article in the News and Observer.
U.S. Naval and Marine Forces Attack Solomons
From AP and Wire Reports
The Navy Department has announced that U.S. Naval and Marine forces have attacked the Solomon Islands chain, a strategically important island chain located in the South Pacific five hundred miles northeast of Australia.
Since the fall of the Philippines, the tropical chain is considered important in blocking the Japanese southerly drive through the South Pacific where an invasion of Australia is considered to be the ultimate Japanese objective in the region. General Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander, Southwest Pacific Ocean Area, has relocated U.S. Army headquarters to Australia after the fall of the Philippines earlier this year. MacArthur left his headquarters on Corregidor, an island at the entrance of Manilla Bay in the Philippines, on March 10.
According to a Navy Department spokesman, most of the fighting in the Solomons has centered around the island of Guadalcanal, where elements of the First Marine Division, supported by U.S. Naval gunfire and air power, launched an invasion August 7. As of this date, the Marines have established a beachhead on Guadalcanal and have captured a Japanese airfield. The source reported that the Marines had renamed the airfield “Henderson Field,” in honor of a Marine aviator who lost his life at Wake Island. The airfield is now being used by United States forces in support of the war effort.
No information on U.S. casualties was available as of this writing.
Ellie finished the article and looked into his eyes. “Is this where they are going to send you Walter, to the Pacific like they did Billy?”
He looked at her and smiled. “I don’t know, Ellie. There has been some speculation that this new airborne division may go to the Pacific. But then again, that may also depend on how things go in Europe.”
She leaned over and put her hand on his. “I’ve already lost one Brewer brother to this war. I want you to promise I won’t lose another one.”
She yanked her hand away when the back porch screen door slammed.
“Here’s you’re goodie bag, Walter.” Jessie was walking from the back porch to the chairs under the pecan tree where Walter and Ellie were sitting.
“Thank you, honey,” Walter said. “Now I’ve got everything I need to hit the road.”
“Are you packed?” Jessie asked.
“Everything’s in the car.” He pulled out the pocket watch Ellie had given him twelve years ago. “I hate to break this up, but this soldier must return to his duties, ladies.”
“I’m going inside to give you two some privacy,” Ellie said. This time Jessie did not argue with her.
Alone in the living room, Ellie looked out the window and saw Walter and Jessie standing by his Model A in the driveway. He was holding her in his arms, their eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze. She took her hand from his arm to wipe her eyes a few times. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a white handkerchief, and gently dabbed the tears dripping down her face.
The long, tender kiss reminded Ellie of years gone by, of her first kiss with Walter standing in front of Grace Episcopal in Plymouth at midnight after the country club Christmas dance. It also reminded her of the kiss Billy had given her the last time she saw him alive, before he enlisted in the Navy, before he shipped off to Pearl Harbor, and before he died a hero’s death.
Jessie turned and ran toward the house. Ellie stepped back from the window.
I hope she didn’t see me.
The back door flung open and Jessie, ignoring Ellie, called upstairs, “Children, your daddy’s leaving. Come down and say good-bye!”
The rumble of excited feet bounding down the wooden staircase sounded like a small stampede. They flew through the living room right past Ellie, not noticing her at all. Out the squeaking screen door they rushed and into the backyard, toward the Model A.
There were six of them altogether. Four belonged to Walter and Jessie. Two—the cousins—belonged to her and the late Billy Brewer. Ellie looked out the window again. Walter was down on his knees accepting a rush of hugs and kisses from his four children and his nephew and niece.
I’m not going outside. I’m not going to spoil this moment.
Walter got into the car and threw it into reverse. Backing out of the driveway, the children followed the car to the street. Some were waving. The small ones were crying.
As the car backed out of view, Ellie ran to the front of the house to catch another glimpse, this time out of the dining room window. She got to the window just in time to see Walter turn right on St. Andrews Street. He drove slowly, waving out the window with his hand, and disappeared at the other side of Jamesville Christian Church.
Then he was gone.
Ellie stared out the window for a moment, her eyes focused on the brick facade of Jamesville Christian Church, just across the grass parking lot from Walter’s house. She thought of her memories of that church and of its symbolism. The church had hosted her husband’s funeral. Now Walter had disappeared behind it.
She felt the water running down her cheeks.
An ominous cloud floated in front of the sun, blocking the bright sunlight from the yard.
Lord, let him live.