Colditz Officer's Camp
"Raus! Raus! Schnell!"
The quiet room around Robert abruptly came to life. The men around him moaned and rolled off their bunks, shivering as their stocking feet touched the bare floor. Robert remained on his stuffed burlap sack that served as a mattress a bit longer. To have roll call was a relief, for it meant a return to military routine, and routine meant that the world hadn't turned upside down, after all.
From the bunk below, the Captain from the night before, Nonamacher, gently prodded the bottom of his mattress. "Hey Hogan! You plan on joining us, or did you find solitary so amusing that you'd like to go back for seconds?"
Robert mumbled something incoherent and propelled himself out into the cool morning air, thinking his lucky stars that he hadn't been shot down during the winter months, provided, of course that they still existed. His luck running the way it had lately, Robert was ready to bargain with anything besides a pompous German to change his streak.
The men around him weren't speaking much, just mindlessly following routine. Robert followed them out of the little room that served as their barracks and through the fortress to a large assembly room where officers of varying rank and nationalities were assembling.
Robert stood in the middle of a mass of weary men , trying to control his temper as the Germans counted them again, and again, and again. He reminded himself that this was ten times better than being in solitary or at the Dulag Luft.
It was nearly thirty minutes before the sergeant of the guard announced, "All prisoners her and accounted for!" and then disappeared to let the Kommandant knew that. According to Nonamacher, the Kommandant didn't trouble himself to emerge from his office during roll calls, considering himself above the mundane routine. All this meant to Robert was another ten minutes of standing in formation on an empty stomach.
Finally dismissed, Robert queued up with the rest of the prisoners for a meager soup that was to be considered breakfast. Clutching his bowl, Robert returned to his barracks and ate it slowly, his mind wandering aimlessly.
A young man, no more than twenty, took the seat across from Robert. "I'm Chris Gary, RAF, first lieutenant. And you're Hogan, aren't you?" he asked eagerly. "New here, right?"
Robert raised his eyebrows. "That's me," he said.
"Well…what's going on in the real world? How's the war going? How soon are we going to get out of this hell hole?" The young man's voice rose with each question, as if, now that he had started to ask them, they refused to wait any longer.
"I don't know about you, but I plan on getting out of here tomorrow," Robert responded lightly.
Across the bench, Gary stared in surprise.
Robert smiled in amusement, his spirits not high enough to permit a laugh. "In reality- the war is hanging in a balance right now. The Allies have seriously stalled Axis advance, but that's about all we're managing to do right now. When I was shot down, we were still trying to hold the German lines. Pushing them back is some time off from now."
As Robert spoke, a number of men entered the room and joined the pair at the table to listen to the news. It pained Robert that he had no better tidings to give to these downed fliers, but it would have been crueler to lie and raise false hopes, or to tell them nothing at all.
When he had finished, he led the discussion away from depressing news and towards a lighter topic: baseball. Despite nearly three quarters of the men being British born, they relished in the new conversation and Robert happily told them everything he knew of the 1941 season. By the time he reached the climax of the world series, all thoughts of the war was temporarily driven from everyone's mind.
Later that afternoon while lying on his bunk, Robert found a note stuffed underneath his mattress. It read: Tonight- barracks 129. Robert thumbed it with anticipation until the pencil lead smeared. Then he got up and threw it away in the latrine.
May 5, 1942
Indianapolis,
Indiana
Emma Hogan turned in front of the mirror, admiring the way the slim wedding dress fell from her hips. It seemed as this was the hundredth dress she had tried on in the last month. She would have been content with a nice one they had found several weeks ago, but her mother perused the task of finding the perfect dress with a passion, as if it would make her forget about everything else going on in their lives.
Taking a deep breath, she emerged from the changing room and presented herself to Regina Hogan. Swirling in front of her, Emma asked lightly, "How does it look?"
Tilting her head, Regina studied the image of her daughter. "The skirt is good," she said, "but I'm not so sure about the bodice. It's so…plain."
Emma glanced down at the plain bodice, a wide scoop neck only embellished by a slight embroidery on the right shoulder. "I like it," Emma said, fingering the stitching on the shoulder. "I want plain. This is going to be a plain wedding, remember? Just family and close friends."
"But I want you to look ravishing! War or no war, we're talking about your wedding day! It's one of the most important days of your life!"
"Then perhaps my word should count more than yours. I like this one."
Regina walked around her daughter again, eyeing the offending fabric critically. "I'll admit, it does make you look stunning. Simple beauty, that's what it is."
"Good." Emma disappeared back into the dressing room and leaned against the wall, grateful that this part of the shopping trip was over. They had set the date wedding date for early July, to Regina's dismay. A wedding, she said, was something to spend more than four months planning. But then Emma argued that with the war on, one never knew when things could happen, and in light of current events, her mother hadn't said another word.
Ten minutes later they were driving through rush hour traffic. Emma tilted the front passenger seat backwards and started out the window up into the sky. How can things be so normal, she wondered. How is it that my life keeps going as it has for twenty-four years, when Robert and Greg are in situations so drastically different. I don't even know if Robert's still alive, and yet here I am, dress shopping for a wedding. To Emma, it seemed so cruel that fate could twist things this way.
"Emma? Are you okay, honey?' Regina asked as they pulled into the driveway.
"Yeah- I just need to be alone for awhile and sort things out. I'm sure you understand."
As Emma moved to exit the vehicle, she was stopped by her mother's hand on her arm. "Take all the time you need, dear. I'm going to be right there with you."