Royal Air Force Base
Bristol, England
The base was in an uproar, and Robert found it hard to believe that anyone had slept in the past 48 hours. Even secluded in his own room, he could feel the commotion reverberate off the walls. Every few minutes hurried footsteps would rush past, in a hurry to get somewhere. It didn't really matter where, they were just in a hurry.
Robert reached up and pulled his suitcase from the shelf in the back of his closet. Halfway back to the table where he had begun packing, the latch sprung and the dozens of letters he had stored there in the past year and a half tumbled out unto the floor.
Scattered-like the bodies of my countrymen in the Pacific two days ago. Like the pieces of the first plane shot down from his squad. Like the tears that had spattered the letter he had drafted three times to the families of those dead in the crash. Like the –
Robert cut himself off. That train of thought might lead many places, but none of them were good. After that first crash he had learned to keep his emotions on a tighter leash, because if he didn't, he was sure he would be crazy by now. The pain and horror was still as great as that on his first mission, just removed to a storage place in his mind, waiting until he had time to deal with it.
The piles of letters grew until Robert had them neatly stacked. He replaced them in the corner of the suitcase. He placed his parents' letters in first- 17 from them, followed by Emma's, with 13 and Greg's with 9. Most of them were memorized word for word now. The rest, an assorted few from close friends and neighbors, he slipped in another slot, noting the difference in crispness between the too piles.
His uniforms went in next, still the same US Air Corps style, even though his comrades gave him no rest about it. My comrades won't notice tomorrow. With the attack on Pearl Harbor, many flight volunteers stationed in England were recalled back to fill American ranks, and Robert's name had been in the mix. Just when a guys starting to get to know a place, he thought a little bitterly.
Clothing complete, he ran over a checklist in his head, moving items from their locations to the bags. As he stacked up his photographs, he felt a slight twinge of regret. His desk looked so sparse without them.
The door flung open unexpectedly, and Robert was barraged by the noise outside, and by a heavily breathing young man.
"Yes, Corporal Jetley?" Robert asked with a smile, waiting for the man to catch his breath. As he did so, he thought that it was fitting that Jetley should see him out, just as he had seen him in at Robert's arrival.
"I-caught you- thank God!" Jetley stuttered. He took a great gasp of air and controlled his breathing slightly. "Your not to-leave."
Robert blinked. "What?" A bubble of hope rose within him. Perhaps he could stay after all.
Jetley held up his finger for silence. "Colonel Preston's plane was shot down over Hamburg a few hours ago."
The world spun a little bit. Images of Colonel Preston blotted up in his mind. And in every one, he saw a laughing, fun loving, English gentlemen. Robert couldn't see him lying still and cold, or worse almost, captured by Germans.
"Is that all?" he asked dully. Control, Robert, he thought, it's all about control.
Shaking his head, Jetley continued. "General Bevin's here, and he's asked to see you. Your transfer orders are herby postponed."
Well, that's something. "I'll be down in a minute. Thanks, Jetley."
In Colonel Preston's Office
"You wished to see me, sir?" Robert asked, after saluting General Bevin sharply. They were in Colonel Preston's old office, still adorned with maps of Europe and photographs of his horses. Upon entering, Robert had swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. So many memories had been made in this office. It was hard to stand inside and know that Preston was never coming back.
"Major Hogan," Bevin began, "please sit down. We have much to talk about."
Robert raised an eyebrow, but complied. He folded his hands in his lap, awaiting Bevin's proclamation.
"Just here a bit beyond a year, and you have incredible records. Colonel Preston spoke very highly of you."
What was this about? Robert nodded, a bit flattered, but altogether confused. "Thank you, sir."
Bevin continued, "You have been transferred back to the States after the Pearl Harbor tragedy , were you not?" And then without waiting for an answer, he barreled on. "I have been on the phone with your commanding officer in the Air Corps, and we have come to the agreement that your services are more useful here. Consider your transfer indefinitely postponed."
"But, sir- " Robert interjected, shocked.
Bevin held up his hand for silence. "Your continued service is very much appreciated by the Crown. Congratulations, Colonel Hogan."
It was all happening way to fast for Robert to comprehend everything. First Pearl Harbor, then the transfer, then Preston, and now-this? Robert felt himself shake the General's hand and accept the position, but had no memory of deciding to do it. I wonder if this is what it means to go crazy? Because if it does, I'm there."
Robert's Quarters
Dear Mom, Dad, Greg, and Emma,
I guess I won't be having the week's leave back in the States after all. I guess I won't be going to the States at all. Everything's happened so fast, that I'm in shock. The base is in an uproar since the attack on Pearl Harbor- I can only imagine how things are out in Hawii.
On top of that confusion, Colonel Preston was shot down last night. Guess who's replacing him? Yours truly, the one and only Colonel Hogan. It felt so wrong, when I took command of the 504th, like I was intruding or somehow making his death/captivity all the more final. Pains of war, I suppose.
I continue to miss you in these troubled times. You are in my thoughts always.
Love,
Robert
Hogan Home, Indanapolis, IN
Emma Hogan clutched her brother's letter to her chest and tried to keep her sorrow down. She had counted so much on Robert being home for Chistmas this year. She and Greg had even been planning some festivities in his honor. All the plans ruined by this dreadful war. Barely a week after her country joined, while the rest of the nation was full of revenge, Emma only wished for it to be over.
She folded the letter in the top drawer of the bureau, and went to make a copy of it for Greg to keep. Next year, she thought hopefully, next year.
A/N: Some facts here not historically accurate. I'd appreciate you overlooking those details until I get a chance to look them up. Thanks and keep up the reviews!