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Thanksgiving Day, 1944.
In the far off waters of the South Pacific, a young navy pilot has a quiet, introspective moment - thinking of home and the girl he left behind, and hopeful for their piece of a world no longer at war.
This is a re-upload of a little something that I wrote back in the fall of 2015. It was originally supposed to be done in observance of Veterans Day, but I didn't get it finished until a few days afterward. So, instead, I decided to do it with a little more of a Thanksgiving theme. More than anything, I did it to refresh myself on writing. I will probably be moving it to my scraps.
______________________________________________________________________________________
Ensign Tom Cortland looked up from the letter he’d just started penning as he laid on his bunk aboard the USS Enterprise. Through a nearby porthole, the German shepherd could see the waters of the Philippine Sea shining brilliantly as the sun began to settle below the western horizon, painting the sky a dazzling bright red and gold. None of the other men in the room said anything. Each of Tom’s squadron mates was just as quiet as he was. He knew that they all had the same thing on their minds that evening; the only thing that any of them had been thinking of or talking about that day. The mood among them was contemplative, even meditative, though their thoughts were filled with an insatiable longing. Each of them was gathered around, listening to a small radio. A hymn in Pidgin sung by a chorus of Solomon Islanders had just finished playing, and the broadcast continued on.
“You’re listening to AES Guadalcanal -- part of the Mosquito Network -- bringing to you each week all of your favorite shows and musical performances. AES Guadalcanal is a member of the Armed Forces Radio Service, broadcasting at 690 kilocycles from our studio at Radio City – nestled in a shady coconut grove near the balmy banks of the Lunga River -- to all you boys across the sunny South Seas who are far from home this Thanksgiving Day. During the next hour and a half, the Mosquito Network and its affiliated stations will present a special holiday program from all the folks back home…”
The folks back home. That was what was occupying all of their thoughts, and all that mattered to them on that day. It was, after all, the very reason why they were there in those far off waters half a world away. None of them had seen home for at least a year. In those eleven months since the Enterprise had sailed out from Oahu with the massive Task Force 58, they had been in the thick of every single major combat operation. Tom was nearly driven mad with a mix of homesickness, boredom, and all the things, big and small, that had happened over those many months. From his first action supporting the landings at Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands to the Leyte Gulf just a few weeks before, he had lost friends on nearly every mission, and too many times he’d become terrifyingly familiar with his own fragile mortality. Each name and each face was a haunting reminder that chance was the only thing that had really preserved him. What tore at him even more than that was the intimate acquaintance he’d had with each one of those men. Each one had been so real and alive with all of their distinct, predictable characteristics and habits, the sound of their voices, and all of their quirks. Just like Tom, they’d had a biting homesickness and anxiousness for a continuity in their lives that would never be realized. They had all developed a closeness that transcended mere friendship to become something fraternal. They had all felt the same things Tom had felt; the same things he was feeling at that very moment. Then, something had happened to them, up there in skies, and in the blink of an eye those things were all cruelly and abruptly torn away. The cold reality crept through Tom’s thoughts that on this day, even after the peace treaty was finally signed and the guns had fallen silent, their place at the dinner table back home would still be empty. Even though chance seemed to be the overriding factor in everything, he could never know for sure if there were things he might have done differently or done better that could have saved some of them. It was a hard notion to swallow, and his inability to know gnawed at him terribly. The young Navy flier was becoming weary from it all. His mind and soul were fatigued by the stresses of his many burdens and the pain of a separation that had lasted too long - a disconnection from his life in another world so far away. It was all slowly taking its effect on him, and it was gradually becoming more apparent with each passing day. There were many things he didn’t know, many things he couldn’t change, and too many things he couldn’t make sense of. All he really knew was that he just wanted to go home.
Tom didn’t want to dwell on the negative. He couldn’t. He had to try to strive for things that were good. He had a sense of hope that had been brought forth by the reality that the war’s end was finally in sight. That October, Enterprise’s pilots had helped deliver the final crushing blow to the Imperial Navy with the sinking of the Zuikaku, the last of the six Japanese carriers involved in the strike on Pearl Harbor. Along with it had gone the super-battleship Musashi, six heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, eleven destroyers, five-hundred aircraft, and over ten-thousand men. By now, America’s war in the Pacific had turned decidedly in her favor, and the Emperor’s naval forces would never again pose a serious threat. Now, the Army and Marines were in the process of retaking the Philippines; lost two years earlier. Tom was well aware that it wasn’t over yet, but for his part it seemed that the worst might finally be over.
Then, there was that other all-important thing that kept him going, and at the same time it drove his crazed yearning for home more than anything else. Tom looked back at the letter clutched in his hand.
“Dearest Katie,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. It’s Thanksgiving today, although I’m sure it will already be Christmas or New Year’s by the time you read this. I hope you haven’t been worrying about me too much. They’re fixing up a special dinner for all of us tonight, and there’s even going to be a party up on the hanger deck. Truthfully, it hasn’t been all that bad lately, but I’ve still been going half out of my mind thinking about you. I wish more than anything in the world that we could be together tonight. If this war wasn’t going on, maybe you could be here with me. I know this might sound strange, but despite all the things that are going on over here, in some way this place has a certain beauty and tranquility that words can’t do justice. The sunsets are like nothing you’ve ever seen, and you wouldn’t believe how gorgeous some of these islands are. When I think of you, I have some peace of mind, and somehow, those things become easier to take notice of. Maybe someday after this mess is all over, we can come here, just you and I, and really see what it’s like…”
Tom paused to reach for an envelope that lay by his side. From it, he produced a photograph that she’d sent some time before and settled his admiring gaze over it. For nearly a good ten minutes, lying back with his ears down and one arm tucked behind his head, he stared pensively at the black and white image while sucking down a couple of unfiltered Lucky Strikes. Playfully posed upon the fender of a ‘39 Buick LaSalle was a beautiful young Welsh sheepdog, all dolled up in a lightly composed and brightly colored short sleeve party dress, with satin peep toe heels and a matching wide-brimmed sun hat. Giving a sassy look as she peered over a pair of white-framed sunglasses, her flowing white and sable fur glowed radiantly in the California summer sun. A charming smile brought her youthful complexion to life, and her appearance was further accented by a full and flourishing tail that swept around to a rest beside her. In every way she exuded a strong feminine grace, confidence, and fun-loving zest for life - the girl of any young man’s dreams. Tom could only think of how much more beautiful she was in person. It was a clear and defined image that was never too far from the forefront of his mind. He set the photograph down again, replacing it with his letter and the issue of Life magazine he was using as a writing surface.
“Moments like these, as I’m writing this, have been the ones that I’ve cherished most during my time away,” he continued. “They give me a precious opportunity to put myself at ease and let all of my worries melt away, and I can just let myself sink deeply into thoughts of home and what we’ll do when we’re together again. About a week ago I got your letter and your picture from that afternoon we went to the party at Johnny’s place. Looking at it now, I still can’t believe that a bum like me was ever lucky enough to get a girl like you. You’re so incredibly beautiful and so much fun to be with, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. Don’t ever change anything about yourself, kid, you’re perfect just the way you are!”
The radio kept on delivering the evening’s lineup of entertainment, though Tom hadn’t been paying much notice to it. His mind had been carried away by deep reflection while the steady stream of the broadcast continued on. The program started out with the customary holiday blessings and well-wishing from home, followed by a patriotic tribute to the nation’s sons overseas. Before it was over, there came somber invocations of Christian faith and appeals to the thoughts and feelings of American families separated by conflict. With that, there was one sentimental song. It wasn’t just any song, though. It was one that couldn’t have fit that moment and spoken to Tom’s innermost sentiments more appropriately. Catching his attention as it began to play, he perked his ears up and listened intently. It was only a short and simple harmony of vocals and guitar, but there was a profound power in its tone – mellow and with a message steeped in solemnity and hope for the future.
“Till then, my darling please wait for me
Till then, no matter when it will be
One day, I know I’ll be back again
Please wait till then
Our dreams will live though we are apart
Our love, I know we’ll keep in our hearts
Till then, when all the world will be free
Please wait for me…”
As the song’s sorrowful melody played, Tom envisioned Kate’s face and her warm, affectionate cerulean eyes peering out from beneath long lashes. He was taken back to that moment he last saw her, thinking of the look in those eyes as they said their goodbyes at the train station and shared in a tender embrace. Kate had acted as if it would be their last -- as if he would be leaving her forever. He remembered how she pressed herself close to him, not wanting to let go. They stood there alone in each others arms, and for that brief, bittersweet moment it was as if the whole world had fallen away and left only the two of them together. Tom kissed her on the cheek and gently stroked her soft, shimmering brunette hair. He wished that moment could have lasted forever, standing frozen and undisturbed by the relentless pace of time as steam from the locomotives swirled around them on the platform. Tom wanted badly to relive that moment again; to feel her loving caress. He continued listening to the song, thinking of her.
“Although there are oceans we must cross
And mountains that we must climb
I know every game must have a loss
So pray that our loss is nothing but time
Till then, let’s dream of what there will be
Till then, we’ll call on each memory
Till then, when I will hold you again
Please wait till then…”
The song ended, and the announcer’s voice trailed off as Tom retreated back into his thoughts. The song was poignantly stirring but at the same time encouraging, seeming to give the assurance of a world born anew and a life for him and Kate. As he resumed writing, it inspired the rest of Tom’s correspondence.
"Baby, I know that these past months have been hard for you. I know that for all this time you’ve had to carry around the heavy pain of knowing that I may not come back, but just know that I’m alright. I hope that the knowledge that I’m still alive and unhurt will comfort you. We’re winning this war, and we’ve made tremendous progress in just the last few months. Every day we’re gaining ground, and the enemy no longer has control of the sea. I can say confidently that it looks like the worst has already come and gone. I feel that it’s because of you, more than anything else, that I’ve managed to make it this far. Every day that I’ve been over here, your love and loyalty have given me the strength and inspiration to persevere and push myself a little bit further. Even though we’re thousands of miles apart, I’ve never felt closer to you. With every letter you’ve written, every package you’ve sent, and everything you’ve done for my family, I know that you’ve always been there for me and that I’ll have you to come back to. In this wonderful year and a half that we’ve known each other, you above all else have been my motivation, my comfort, and my warmth. You are the unending joy and light of my life. I promise you that I will come back. I know that I will, because you’ve been there all this time, guiding me home. There will be a future for us after this thing is over, and we can do all of the things we talked about doing. Till then, all I ask is that you wait a little longer. Till then, please keep on being strong for me, and don’t kill yourself with worry.
I don’t want this letter to run on too long, so I’ll end by saying that I hope you and your folks had a good Thanksgiving, and I wish you the merriest Christmas and happiest New Year. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It might even be sooner than either of us thinks. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be back in Sacramento before January. Here’s hoping that 1945 will see us back together again! I’ll write you again soon. Take care of yourself darling.
With All my Love,
Tom"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNiHCz-cOQ8
In the far off waters of the South Pacific, a young navy pilot has a quiet, introspective moment - thinking of home and the girl he left behind, and hopeful for their piece of a world no longer at war.
This is a re-upload of a little something that I wrote back in the fall of 2015. It was originally supposed to be done in observance of Veterans Day, but I didn't get it finished until a few days afterward. So, instead, I decided to do it with a little more of a Thanksgiving theme. More than anything, I did it to refresh myself on writing. I will probably be moving it to my scraps.
______________________________________________________________________________________
Ensign Tom Cortland looked up from the letter he’d just started penning as he laid on his bunk aboard the USS Enterprise. Through a nearby porthole, the German shepherd could see the waters of the Philippine Sea shining brilliantly as the sun began to settle below the western horizon, painting the sky a dazzling bright red and gold. None of the other men in the room said anything. Each of Tom’s squadron mates was just as quiet as he was. He knew that they all had the same thing on their minds that evening; the only thing that any of them had been thinking of or talking about that day. The mood among them was contemplative, even meditative, though their thoughts were filled with an insatiable longing. Each of them was gathered around, listening to a small radio. A hymn in Pidgin sung by a chorus of Solomon Islanders had just finished playing, and the broadcast continued on.
“You’re listening to AES Guadalcanal -- part of the Mosquito Network -- bringing to you each week all of your favorite shows and musical performances. AES Guadalcanal is a member of the Armed Forces Radio Service, broadcasting at 690 kilocycles from our studio at Radio City – nestled in a shady coconut grove near the balmy banks of the Lunga River -- to all you boys across the sunny South Seas who are far from home this Thanksgiving Day. During the next hour and a half, the Mosquito Network and its affiliated stations will present a special holiday program from all the folks back home…”
The folks back home. That was what was occupying all of their thoughts, and all that mattered to them on that day. It was, after all, the very reason why they were there in those far off waters half a world away. None of them had seen home for at least a year. In those eleven months since the Enterprise had sailed out from Oahu with the massive Task Force 58, they had been in the thick of every single major combat operation. Tom was nearly driven mad with a mix of homesickness, boredom, and all the things, big and small, that had happened over those many months. From his first action supporting the landings at Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands to the Leyte Gulf just a few weeks before, he had lost friends on nearly every mission, and too many times he’d become terrifyingly familiar with his own fragile mortality. Each name and each face was a haunting reminder that chance was the only thing that had really preserved him. What tore at him even more than that was the intimate acquaintance he’d had with each one of those men. Each one had been so real and alive with all of their distinct, predictable characteristics and habits, the sound of their voices, and all of their quirks. Just like Tom, they’d had a biting homesickness and anxiousness for a continuity in their lives that would never be realized. They had all developed a closeness that transcended mere friendship to become something fraternal. They had all felt the same things Tom had felt; the same things he was feeling at that very moment. Then, something had happened to them, up there in skies, and in the blink of an eye those things were all cruelly and abruptly torn away. The cold reality crept through Tom’s thoughts that on this day, even after the peace treaty was finally signed and the guns had fallen silent, their place at the dinner table back home would still be empty. Even though chance seemed to be the overriding factor in everything, he could never know for sure if there were things he might have done differently or done better that could have saved some of them. It was a hard notion to swallow, and his inability to know gnawed at him terribly. The young Navy flier was becoming weary from it all. His mind and soul were fatigued by the stresses of his many burdens and the pain of a separation that had lasted too long - a disconnection from his life in another world so far away. It was all slowly taking its effect on him, and it was gradually becoming more apparent with each passing day. There were many things he didn’t know, many things he couldn’t change, and too many things he couldn’t make sense of. All he really knew was that he just wanted to go home.
Tom didn’t want to dwell on the negative. He couldn’t. He had to try to strive for things that were good. He had a sense of hope that had been brought forth by the reality that the war’s end was finally in sight. That October, Enterprise’s pilots had helped deliver the final crushing blow to the Imperial Navy with the sinking of the Zuikaku, the last of the six Japanese carriers involved in the strike on Pearl Harbor. Along with it had gone the super-battleship Musashi, six heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, eleven destroyers, five-hundred aircraft, and over ten-thousand men. By now, America’s war in the Pacific had turned decidedly in her favor, and the Emperor’s naval forces would never again pose a serious threat. Now, the Army and Marines were in the process of retaking the Philippines; lost two years earlier. Tom was well aware that it wasn’t over yet, but for his part it seemed that the worst might finally be over.
Then, there was that other all-important thing that kept him going, and at the same time it drove his crazed yearning for home more than anything else. Tom looked back at the letter clutched in his hand.
“Dearest Katie,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. It’s Thanksgiving today, although I’m sure it will already be Christmas or New Year’s by the time you read this. I hope you haven’t been worrying about me too much. They’re fixing up a special dinner for all of us tonight, and there’s even going to be a party up on the hanger deck. Truthfully, it hasn’t been all that bad lately, but I’ve still been going half out of my mind thinking about you. I wish more than anything in the world that we could be together tonight. If this war wasn’t going on, maybe you could be here with me. I know this might sound strange, but despite all the things that are going on over here, in some way this place has a certain beauty and tranquility that words can’t do justice. The sunsets are like nothing you’ve ever seen, and you wouldn’t believe how gorgeous some of these islands are. When I think of you, I have some peace of mind, and somehow, those things become easier to take notice of. Maybe someday after this mess is all over, we can come here, just you and I, and really see what it’s like…”
Tom paused to reach for an envelope that lay by his side. From it, he produced a photograph that she’d sent some time before and settled his admiring gaze over it. For nearly a good ten minutes, lying back with his ears down and one arm tucked behind his head, he stared pensively at the black and white image while sucking down a couple of unfiltered Lucky Strikes. Playfully posed upon the fender of a ‘39 Buick LaSalle was a beautiful young Welsh sheepdog, all dolled up in a lightly composed and brightly colored short sleeve party dress, with satin peep toe heels and a matching wide-brimmed sun hat. Giving a sassy look as she peered over a pair of white-framed sunglasses, her flowing white and sable fur glowed radiantly in the California summer sun. A charming smile brought her youthful complexion to life, and her appearance was further accented by a full and flourishing tail that swept around to a rest beside her. In every way she exuded a strong feminine grace, confidence, and fun-loving zest for life - the girl of any young man’s dreams. Tom could only think of how much more beautiful she was in person. It was a clear and defined image that was never too far from the forefront of his mind. He set the photograph down again, replacing it with his letter and the issue of Life magazine he was using as a writing surface.
“Moments like these, as I’m writing this, have been the ones that I’ve cherished most during my time away,” he continued. “They give me a precious opportunity to put myself at ease and let all of my worries melt away, and I can just let myself sink deeply into thoughts of home and what we’ll do when we’re together again. About a week ago I got your letter and your picture from that afternoon we went to the party at Johnny’s place. Looking at it now, I still can’t believe that a bum like me was ever lucky enough to get a girl like you. You’re so incredibly beautiful and so much fun to be with, and I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you. Don’t ever change anything about yourself, kid, you’re perfect just the way you are!”
The radio kept on delivering the evening’s lineup of entertainment, though Tom hadn’t been paying much notice to it. His mind had been carried away by deep reflection while the steady stream of the broadcast continued on. The program started out with the customary holiday blessings and well-wishing from home, followed by a patriotic tribute to the nation’s sons overseas. Before it was over, there came somber invocations of Christian faith and appeals to the thoughts and feelings of American families separated by conflict. With that, there was one sentimental song. It wasn’t just any song, though. It was one that couldn’t have fit that moment and spoken to Tom’s innermost sentiments more appropriately. Catching his attention as it began to play, he perked his ears up and listened intently. It was only a short and simple harmony of vocals and guitar, but there was a profound power in its tone – mellow and with a message steeped in solemnity and hope for the future.
“Till then, my darling please wait for me
Till then, no matter when it will be
One day, I know I’ll be back again
Please wait till then
Our dreams will live though we are apart
Our love, I know we’ll keep in our hearts
Till then, when all the world will be free
Please wait for me…”
As the song’s sorrowful melody played, Tom envisioned Kate’s face and her warm, affectionate cerulean eyes peering out from beneath long lashes. He was taken back to that moment he last saw her, thinking of the look in those eyes as they said their goodbyes at the train station and shared in a tender embrace. Kate had acted as if it would be their last -- as if he would be leaving her forever. He remembered how she pressed herself close to him, not wanting to let go. They stood there alone in each others arms, and for that brief, bittersweet moment it was as if the whole world had fallen away and left only the two of them together. Tom kissed her on the cheek and gently stroked her soft, shimmering brunette hair. He wished that moment could have lasted forever, standing frozen and undisturbed by the relentless pace of time as steam from the locomotives swirled around them on the platform. Tom wanted badly to relive that moment again; to feel her loving caress. He continued listening to the song, thinking of her.
“Although there are oceans we must cross
And mountains that we must climb
I know every game must have a loss
So pray that our loss is nothing but time
Till then, let’s dream of what there will be
Till then, we’ll call on each memory
Till then, when I will hold you again
Please wait till then…”
The song ended, and the announcer’s voice trailed off as Tom retreated back into his thoughts. The song was poignantly stirring but at the same time encouraging, seeming to give the assurance of a world born anew and a life for him and Kate. As he resumed writing, it inspired the rest of Tom’s correspondence.
"Baby, I know that these past months have been hard for you. I know that for all this time you’ve had to carry around the heavy pain of knowing that I may not come back, but just know that I’m alright. I hope that the knowledge that I’m still alive and unhurt will comfort you. We’re winning this war, and we’ve made tremendous progress in just the last few months. Every day we’re gaining ground, and the enemy no longer has control of the sea. I can say confidently that it looks like the worst has already come and gone. I feel that it’s because of you, more than anything else, that I’ve managed to make it this far. Every day that I’ve been over here, your love and loyalty have given me the strength and inspiration to persevere and push myself a little bit further. Even though we’re thousands of miles apart, I’ve never felt closer to you. With every letter you’ve written, every package you’ve sent, and everything you’ve done for my family, I know that you’ve always been there for me and that I’ll have you to come back to. In this wonderful year and a half that we’ve known each other, you above all else have been my motivation, my comfort, and my warmth. You are the unending joy and light of my life. I promise you that I will come back. I know that I will, because you’ve been there all this time, guiding me home. There will be a future for us after this thing is over, and we can do all of the things we talked about doing. Till then, all I ask is that you wait a little longer. Till then, please keep on being strong for me, and don’t kill yourself with worry.
I don’t want this letter to run on too long, so I’ll end by saying that I hope you and your folks had a good Thanksgiving, and I wish you the merriest Christmas and happiest New Year. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It might even be sooner than either of us thinks. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be back in Sacramento before January. Here’s hoping that 1945 will see us back together again! I’ll write you again soon. Take care of yourself darling.
With All my Love,
Tom"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNiHCz-cOQ8
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 66px
File Size 171 kB
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