Battle Hymns by Cara Langston

her mouth as
a wave of nausea washed over her. For weeks she’d been waiting for
Nick’s letters to inform her they’d arrived at their destination.
She hadn’t grasped that the invasion would be broadcast long before
his letters made it back across the Atlantic.
    In a panic, she extended the newspaper. The Post had included an illustrated map, and she followed the
dark black arrow down the coast of Portugal. The arrow split as it
neared North Africa, four to Morocco and two others through the
Strait of Gibraltar and on to Algeria. She scrutinized the text.
The article listed the Ninth Infantry Division as a participant.
She searched for news of casualties.
    “It says there were only slight American losses. Only
two of our ships were torpedoed. That’s considered slight? What if
Nick was on one of those ships?”
    “Calm down. You don’t know that. There’d be hundreds
of ships in that kind of convoy. The odds are low,” Will said.
    “There’s still a chance.”
    “Charlotte, there’s always a chance. We’re at war.
Look at what happened to me.”
    Dropping the newspaper to her side, she glared at the
casts on his limbs and the cuts on his face. “Do you even know what
happened to you? I thought you couldn’t remember anything.”
    Will seemed to consider her question for several
seconds, long enough that she regretted her question and the tone
in which it was asked. She took a deep breath. At least now she
knew where Nick was. Her wait was over. There was some relief in
that.
    “I’ve led bombing missions into Germany with the
Royal Air Force. You could say I have a good idea of what landed me
here, even if I can’t recall the particular circumstances.”
    “That’s why your certificate said you were in
Cologne . . .” Charlotte lowered her voice to a
whisper so Will’s neighbor, a young airman in training, wouldn’t
overhear. “Do you think you were shot down?”
    “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Yes, I
think my plane was hit. That doesn’t fully explain the extent of my
injuries, though. I’m convinced my parachute tore during the fall.
That’s the only way my body could shatter like it did.”
    Her eyes stung as she imagined him plummeting toward
the ground. “You’re very lucky. You might not have survived at
all.”
    Will shrugged. “There’s no pain in death.”
    A single tear fell from her eye. She wiped it away
hastily. “You can’t think that way.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal.” He gave her a
reassuring smile. “I’m just not afraid of death anymore. I’ve also
come to realize life’s too short not to pursue what you want.”
    Charlotte studied her fingernails. Her eye contact
with Will suddenly discomfited her. She forced a smile and steered
the conversation along a lighter route. “You’re a fighter pilot?
Did you fly before the war?”
    Will nodded. “It was a hobby until I joined the Eagle
Squadron. The U.S. hadn’t joined the war so I volunteered to fight
with the British. I was stationed in various parts of southern
England for a couple years.”
    “How’d you like England?”
    “I liked it just fine. We were stationed in the
countryside at these massive manors that were built hundreds of
years ago with spires and gardens. They used to house the
aristocracy. Now they’re housing soldiers. The encampments and
planes have torn up their lawns.” His eyebrows furrowed. “The
British people see the need to come together and sacrifice for the
cause. And how can they not, after so many civilians were killed in
the Luftwaffe bombings? The Americans weren’t like that when I
left.”
    “You haven’t been home since 1940. We’re all doing
our part now.”
    Will smiled. “I can see that. After all, here you
are. Do you like volunteering at the hospital?”
    “I do. I honestly wasn’t sure I would when I signed
up. I went to my first day of training and thought, what in the
world have I gotten myself into? But now I look forward to