Chapter Three
Spring 1942
famous trumpet man from out Chicago way
The bitterly cold Philadelphia winter had been long, but this spring seemed interminable to Jo. She wanted action, she wanted to report on something that was happening, not the homemaker fluff pieces that had been dumped on her desk now that every other journalist's efforts were completely focused on the country's gathering war effort. Her pushes to get a position as a correspondent somewhere, anywhere, had gone positively nowhere. She was this close to quitting, but the idea of finding another job where she would have to start all over again was marginally more disagreeable than what she had to deal with at the Tribune.
When Will called her into his office four months after the attack on Pearl Harbor, she was restless. She didn't care where she was sent now, she just wanted to be somewhere. Ideally it would be to England to report on a war that was now fully underway, but Jo knew better than to be picky. She sighed deeply to herself as she opened the door to Will's office, trying to remind herself that her assertiveness was what had gotten her the job.
She forced a smile and sat down at the scratchy wool chair in front of Will's desk. He finished straightening his pile of papers and then slapped his hands down on the table.
"Brandt, I think I've finally found what you've been looking for."
"And what exactly might that be?" Jo resisted an extremely strong urge to raise her eyebrows, although on the inside she was intrigued.
"I've got a friend from prep school whose father's going to be in charge of a new Army venture. The first of its kind in the U.S., and elite as hell. They're called paratroops, they jump out of airplanes behind enemy lines, and I want you to cover them."
"Come again?"
"They're being organized down in Georgia next month, and they're looking for a correspondent to cover their training. I told Sink – Robert, my friend's father – that I thought you'd be perfect for the job."
Although excited, Jo felt a little like she was being treated like a crying baby, at arm's length and with more than a little patronization
"Is there going to be any foreign coverage, or just training in the States?"
"To be honest, they're not completely sure about what's going to happen. But it's at least a year, maybe more." Will's more familiar tone was starting to emerge again.
"Well…it sounds good to me, but I'm going to have to think it over nonetheless."
"They need a yes or a no by Friday, so that gives you a week. I'll be expecting your answer with bated breath."
"Duly noted. And Will -" she started, as she got up and opened the door. "Thank you. I really mean it."
"No problem."
She gave a final smile and headed back to her desk. So she had a week to think it over. One week to decide the course of her life for the next year. Jo shut her eyes tightly and then reopened them, trying to alleviate pain that had been present since she had woken that morning. She reached for another cigarette and got up to refill her coffee mug in the staff room.
One week.
Thursday Evening
On paper Will was right – it was exactly what she was looking for – travel, excitement, a chance to be part of something special. The more Jo thought about it, the more she started to convince herself that it was a good idea. Anything was better than what she was doing now. Frankie had thought it was a grand idea. "You'll come home with some cute Army boyfriend and a year's worth of journalism experience under your belt to boot. It's perfect."
With advertising like that, how could I refuse? Jo thought to herself. Before nodding off to sleep she decided she would call Will in the morning and accept the position. No ifs ands or buts about it.
I realize this chapter is really short and I apologize for it being – sort of – a bit of a filler. It moves the story along, but doesn't really do much past that. This week has been crazy at school, but I will have more time for the next chapter, which is going to be much, much longer, and Jo is finally going to meet some of our favorite Easy men! Please review if you wish, & constructive criticism is always, always appreciated.