Chapter 58: Yanks January 1942
Alcoholism was not a problem that she would admit freely, but Sister Michael really did need to stop drinking on weeknights. Or at least cut it down to a manageable level.
The day was beginning in the way that school days always had done for her since she was placed in charge of the establishment. She would be the first one there every morning, doing her rounds of the place as the other teachers joined her alongside the students that then began to filter in. A morning chat with Anna Quinn was completed almost everyday unless the young Quinn was too busy with her head in a book or helping out another student. Staying away from the child that frightened her with her intellect at such a young age would have been the better course of action, though she could never bring herself to do so. There was such good conversation to be had with the wain, who at least did not take after her sister in that regard. In times gone by, the nun could remember the days when Erin would drivel on and she would contemplate throwing chalk at her to shut her up. She'd managed not to give into the temptation and would not dare even think it around the second daughter of Mary and Gerry.
Assembly was another part of the morning routine, consequently falling foul of the Sister's ire as most things did in the morning. That morning in particular though was worse. She had a special announcement to make to the whole school, actually necessitating the large gathering in the main hall for once, rather than it being just for singing. The haunting days where Jenny Joyce's voice would ring in the ears of all those in attendance were thankfully over, but if she squinted, the Sister could swear blind some mornings she could still hear the ear-piercing tones of the young woman. Luckily, the whole city was free of her not so dulcet tones, not that many knew of it.
Special announcements were always special to everyone else and not her, which annoyed her even further. Announcing that the school was to be closed and she was not to have to discipline another unruly child again would be the only one possible when it came to making her happy. On the Bishop's last visit, she'd enquired into the future of the school, though sadly he'd misinterpreted her question as one out of concern, promising to make every effort to ensure the premises remained open to educate the youth of the city. The night after his visit she drank so heavily that she woke up in a warehouse somewhere at the docks, not quite knowing how she'd gotten there. Skulking out in the early night of the morning, her presence nearly gave the elderly foreman a heart attack.
"Morning Sister Michael".
The widowed Ms Mooney addressed her as they sat on the stage at the front, waiting for the children to begin to join them in the main hall. She'd lost her husband, a sailor, earlier in the war and had taken on quite the morose look to life, which even filtered through to her teaching. The Sister wasn't best pleased about the development, though was not heartless enough to dismiss her when she'd been dealt such a cruel blow. However, the two didn't speak as much as they once did, her way of making her displeasure known.
"Ms Mooney… are you well?" She asked, without a hint of true concern.
"Grand thanks Sister. Looking forward to the few days ahead. Ye know I've heard they'll be arrivin' on Monday".
"Great…".
Sister Michael's sigh turned groan was in response to the news that Derry would be receiving plenty of American troops in the coming days. The base that Charlene Kavanagh helped to establish was ready for usage, as well as other barracks throughout the city and the surrounding areas, much like the British Army units stationed there. Although thankful that they'd seen sense and intervened in a conflict that would soon be right on their doorstep, if it wasn't truly already, she had hoped that the city would avoid them being there, knowing what their influence would be. They were almost certainly going to be better paid, probably better-looking men than the British soldiers and the local residents, and young women were young women. Not all of them were immune to charm like she was. Michelle Mallon was the first name brought to mind.
"I've heard they're all lovely young men…". Ms Mooney continued. "… it will be so pleasant to have them here".
"I wouldn't think about that too much if I were you Ms Mooney. We need to be keeping our eyes on our girls here, we can't have any of them falling to temptation and god forbid, becoming pregnant through these men!"
"Love could be found Sister, there might be more than physical intimacy involved…".
She really didn't want to contemplate that. The conversation was steering of course from where she'd hoped it would go, which was not very far, and it was up to the Sister to make sure Ms Mooney was put back in her place again.
"I would have thought you wouldn't be thinking about that anyway…". She began, turning her head to look Ms Mooney fully in the eye. "… besides, ye've already lost yerself one fella to the war. Don't be gettin' yerself too attached now, ye hear".
"Sister, I… I was thinkin' more of the younger women…".
"Americans talk a lot of shite, Janine. Don't get yerself drawn in because I guarantee ye, ye'll live to regret it".
With Sister Michael's words of warning ringing in her ears, Ms Mooney did the right thing and kept her mouth shut, not engaging again with the Head Mistress. Satisfied that the conversation was at an end, the nun did not have any time to contemplate anything else, the children beginning to enter the main hall for assembly. The familiar feeling of boredom crept over her watching them walk forward to their rows, finding the last few children running in to make sure that they all made it there on time. There were some who turned up late almost everyday despite knowing they'd receive the cane for it and judging by some of the empty spaces in rows, the cane would be being flexed again that morning.
It was once muted to her that the school could be turned into an all-girl's school, but she was against the idea of separating the two sexes. As much as there was always dangers in the older years that the awakening of hormones within the young adults could lead to certain activities being conducted around the school, she did not like the idea of keeping the sexes apart. Young boys and girls learnt better off each other rather than without one another, a point she'd made to the Bishop when he'd told her of the idea. Placed on hold indefinitely, she'd never heard about the frankly ridiculous idea ever again.
The children appeared to have believed that they were free to make as much noise as they wanted when they entered the Main Hall. Half-hearted pleas from the other teachers were falling on deaf ears, but Sister Michael wouldn't have to put up anywhere near as much effort to get them to be quiet. All it would take was her to get up from her seat and walk over right to the front of the stage, and she could guarantee there would be silence. Every single child in the school must have feared her, she thought, or at least most did and the others were wise to how she would act if they did not show the respect she commanded. Anna Quinn was part of the group that did not fear her, the youngest not to, and when she spotted the young blonde in the crowd, she was not surprised to find that she was ignoring the noise of those around her. With Erin, it had been very different…
Raising herself slowly from her seat, the Sister began to make her way to the front of the stage, hush descending upon the room with every step. By the time she was at the front of the stage, her point was proven to be completely correct. The whole school was silent in front of her, exactly how she preferred it. Authority was something that she wielded brilliantly, not a single student dare defying her when she was staring at them all.
"Good morning".
"Good morning, Sister Michael".
The chorus of her name being sounded throughout the hall made her already aching head hurt even more. The night before's alcoholic excesses really were coming back to haunt her. Taking a couple of moments to compose herself, Sister Michael began the usual daily trawl of the minor announcements, before she got onto the main one, concerning their new visitors. She cursed the Lord's name when she found out that somehow, she'd been given the responsibility of the task at hand. Anyone of the other schools could have been chosen, or the mayor could have done it himself or got someone from the Police to do it. It was just her rotten luck to be sidled with a task that she knew she couldn't do without saying something that she shouldn't. That was the advantage of being at a school though; there were plenty of test subjects who could be sacrificed instead.
"Right, let's get on with it… first of all, whoever chalked the crude image onto Sister Nina's board yesterday, I suggest that you own up…".
When she'd been called to the classroom just after dismissing the school the day before, she was more annoyed than disgusted. There were always crude images appearing in textbooks or carved into wooden desks, but a rather large drawing with the chalk was crossing the line. Sister Nina hadn't taken any lessons that afternoon in her classroom, leaving the opportunity for the culprit or culprits to complete their piece of art at lunchtime, knowing it would not be discovered until later on. She would find them one way or another.
"Those of you in the senior years may be familiar with the content of the drawing, but I have had several complaints from parents who have found themselves having to explain the drawings to their six year olds…".
One lad sniggered somewhere towards the back, thinking he was out of her sight when he did. However, he'd taken leave of his senses for a moment and forgot the golden rule. Nothing got past Sister Michael… nothing at all.
"Is there something that amuses you, Mr Murphy…". She addressed him. "… do ye have a guilty conscience that you wish to share with us".
His subsequent silence all but confirmed that he was indeed the culprit behind the crude image. A thirteen year old that often caused her a lot of trouble, he was one of the worst behaved children in the entire school. His family were nothing to be proud of either, the father being in and out of prison, the mother earning for their six children in ways that she could not condone. Whilst there was some residual sympathy for the rest of the children, she could not stand that particular boy. He would receive the adequate punishment afterwards, the Sister making sure in front of the rest of the school that he was aware of that.
"You will see me after assembly Mr Murphy. I suggest ye have a wee think about that conscience of yer's before we talk…".
Hiding away even further behind a couple of his friends, the usually tough troublemaker was cowering in the face of authority. Chalking the crude image onto the board may have been a good idea just under twenty four hours earlier, but when Sister Michael would be faced if he were discovered, which he had been, it looked terrible that morning. Already looking forward to having words with the rebellious boy, she got on with the rest of the announcements.
"Next… wee Sarah McNulty from Sister Agatha's class won't be in today. I would ask that you add her and the rest of her family to yer prayers, as they cope with the tragic loss of her father, which was confirmed yesterday…".
He was another man from Derry claimed by the war. Stationed out in Africa, Mr McNulty joined James and David in being killed in the Mediterranean theatre of war. With another theatre opening in the east thanks to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, and the subsequent American entrance into the war, it left another front open for lives to be lost. There weren't many young men from Derry who found themselves in Asia on the day that Japan changed the balance of the war, mostly protestant lads who were not given any attention by the Catholics of the city. For those that were though, it was promising to be another potential front for monumental loss of life. More savage than even the Germans at times, the Japanese were a force to be reckoned with.
Sister Michael didn't need to reflect on the loss though and having read the statement whilst visiting the family the night before, she could reveal everything, no truth spared from the ears of the rest of the children.
"Her father sadly was ambushed on a patrol and shot to bits by a German machine gunner. The silly eejit should have watched where he was goin', but we must all remember him and remember that poor wee Sarah will be upset for some time about her father not coming home again".
Glancing behind her, Sister Michael noted the pale tone of Ms Mooney's skin. Clearly reminded of the loss of her own husband to the war, she looked ready to burst into tears. Already with a hall full of children that could easily give into their emotions at any time and start sobbing, the last thing she wanted to be dealing with was one of the teachers. Their duty was to remain stoic in front of the students no matter what was bubbling beneath the surface in their own lives. If the children truly understood the horrifying effects of the war upon those that were mature than they were, Britain would be lost. Ms Mooney happened to glance up at the same time and understanding the message that the Sister was telling her with her eyes, she quickly swallowed her thoughts and regained control of herself.
"Right, the last of the announcements for the day…". Sister Michael started again, clearing her throat in what was almost a bellow. "The senior boys cross country is cancelled this afternoon…".
Multiple groans ran out across the main hall, the lads in the older years being disappointed with the turn of events. Cross Country in the winter was one of their favourite activities, getting muddy whilst battling away to see who could last the distance during the tough test. They would run out from the school down the country lanes and back through the fields, with a nasty hill to negotiate on the way back. For those with tired legs it could be absolutely gruelling, coming later in the run. Sister Michael detested the idea of running at the best of times, let alone out in the mud. She never got involved, leaving it to the other teachers to sort out whilst she stayed inside in the warm sipping at tea… with a typical addition of something stronger for good measure.
"Did I ask for yer opinion McGeough? Or what about you Byrne? No, I didn't think so…". She snarled at the two who made the most noise. "The reason for the cancellation is that the Army are going to be using some of the fields for a training exercise and the Bishop informed me strongly that your welfare cannot be endangered by trying to run through the middle of it. As tempting as it is to let you do so, I do not want to have to deal with parents who are angry because their child has been shot in the head. So there'll be no cross country, do ye hear!?"
"Yes, Sister". The lads all replied.
"Good".
With the normal announcements out of the way, she turned her mind to the one that was required when it came to the Americans, sighing immediately. Ever since she'd received the news, she hated the thought of what was going to have to happen, even if she would not be directly responsible for what was to be said. Ms Mooney knew of the speech that was to take place, the rest of the teaching staff also knowing what was going to be said, though not in the same detail. The staff meeting earlier in the week about the news went down well with the majority of them in comparison to the negativity that the head mistress cast upon it. None of them were foolish enough to argue with her judgement on the matter, but most of them were happy enough with the task that they were given. She put that down to them not being the ones having to organise it, though none of them were quite as Anti-American as she was anyway.
The plan of action formed from that meeting was one they could all agree upon. Unusual, mostly due to the Sister favouring a different course of action to the rest of them and not allowing anyone to overrule her, it was her suggestion that was unanimously accepted. A convenient way to solve the problem they'd been tasked with, one of great responsibility that needed to be handled properly, the solution was genius. Rather literally genius. The sound of laughter from the staff room was not often heard during the daytime or before and after school, yet bellyfuls could be heard when they discussed just how fortunate they were. As much as Sister Michael was still dreading having to speak about it in assembly, it was not quite so bad when she knew how good the answer to the task was.
"Right, I have one final announcement before you all go to your lessons…".
A special announcement saw the ears of the younger children in the front rows, prick up in excitement, while the older students at the back remained unmoved, more wary of what might be about to be said. There was no such excitement for them when they'd been in the position many times before, only to be told that the Bishop was visiting or there was going to be additional lessons over the summer for struggling students. They wouldn't be fooled again by hopes being raised to be subsequently dashed. However, rumours spread for weeks about American soldiers coming to be stationed in the city, especially with the base opening in the city. The extent of its operations were known only to a select few, Charlene Kavanagh being one of those few along with Menzies and Smithers.
"The Mayor has very… kindly…". She chose her words carefully, kindly not being the one in her head. "… decided that a representative of the school will be responsible for greeting the American servicemen who will be arriving here next week".
Cheers of delight went around the room, the children erupting in happiness at the confirmation from the Sister that the Americans were coming. There'd been such rumour in the days gone by, stories that they were coming counteracted by others that disputed the claim. Sister Michael knew they were coming from before they'd entered the war, knowing for some time about the base and predicting that they would come, regardless of the Japanese. It would have taken a lot longer without the Japanese attacking them first, but America were always going to have got involved in her opinion. They were the major power that stood where Britain used to, holding the resources to change the conflict where the old Empire did not.
"These men will be coming across the Atlantic Ocean to a land that they do not know, to a culture that they will not always understand. Thanks to the Bishop, yer faces will be amongst the first that they see when they step off of their ships. One member of this school is required to read out a message of welcome to the troops and will be allowed to shake the hand of the commanding officer".
She expected most of them to volunteer on the spot, no matter what their age, the responsibility being an exciting challenge for the children at all ends of the age spectrum. However, the response was completely the opposite. There was a silence, not a stunned one but one that was… made to be rather obvious, as if should have existed despite what the Sister believed. The only difference from before she'd started speaking was that all of the children were turning their heads in the directions of a fellow pupil, who suddenly found themselves with a whole school staring at them. Most of the teachers were joining in too, leaving the majority of students satisfied to do so knowing that the teachers were engaging in the same behaviour.
The identity of the student could have been guessed by some of the parents.
Anna Quinn was the pupil faced with multiple sets of eyes upon her. It was always going to be Anna Quinn, everyone in the school knew it. The overachieving recently turned six year old, was the best student that the school could provide for the task. Sister Michael's plan to ask her to do it was the one that set the staff room alite with the incredible rounds of laughter that echoed down the corridors during the meeting. Every single member of staff could agree that if anyone could represent the school and prove that it was the best within the entire city and, perhaps, country, Anna Quinn was the right girl for the job. A complete genius, masquerading as a friendly, loveable six year old was absolutely perfect. The American soldiers could be welcomed properly as they should, without being able to ogle the girl giving the speech. She was the only choice possible.
"It would seem that the rest of the school have already cast their vote, but I will leave it to you Miss Quinn, to reject the offer. I would understand if you felt… incompatible with the task".
A girl of lesser understanding than her, basically every other female in the hall under the age of sixteen as well as some older, they would have taken offence to the Sister's words, but Anna knew differently. Due to her being who she was, the authorisation tasked with keeping the pupils in line, most would see her as making a cruel comment towards Anna's abilities, but instead it was a caring one. Having watched an entire school turn their heads to her, expecting that she would be the one to do it, there was an immense pressure on the wain to deliver. Although Anna didn't confide in her at the time when she was worried about her exams, not that the Sister did confiding sessions, she guessed as much from Michelle and Clare's intervention. Although they might have been two of the worst possible role models that Anna could have chosen, she conceded that they were at least suitable for the role of keeping the young girl calm when she felt pressured. A far better choice than even her own sister.
Made of tough stuff, resilient and above all, brave, Anna was never going to back down at all. Fear did not exist in her eyes that morning, irises only reflecting back a young girl who was ready to take on the world if that would be asked of her. That was the influence of James from the brief time of knowing him; she'd gained his noble, commanding qualities from watching how he approached situations in life.
"No… I want to do it Sister Michael".
Flashing her the briefest of smiles, the Sister could not fault her courage. She also could not help but become even more terrified of Anna, showing fortitude to add to her brains and general kind, positive outlook on life. She could have so easily been manipulated to use her incredible brain for nefarious activities, even at such a young age, but she was incredibly well grounded. Bravery that came to be the Sister's advantage, she was glad that Anna accepted, having not developed a secondary plan if she'd have said no.
"Great. Now, ye have until Monday to write yer speech and I want to see it first thing before you read it out. We can't have ye saying anything that ye shouldn't".
"Yes, Sister". Anna replied, nodding.
A couple of minutes later, Anna was dismissed along with the rest of the students, heading to their lessons knowing that they would soon be seeing the visitors to the city. After reflecting upon the initial announcement, somewhere into her first lesson, she became nervous at the assignment that was handed to her. Accepting without thinking about what she was agreeing to doing, it was her wish to impress the Sister that drove her on. The opportunity was one that could not be turned down either, placing an impression upon the arriving soldiers about the culture of their great city. There were so many others, far more important than her, that could have given the speech to welcome the American servicemen, but instead, it was going to be her.
Writing a speech in such a short space of time was a challenge for her, despite her brains. She might have been more mature than all of the other children her age, but she was yet to have true maturity of a proper adult. The speech would require the touch of someone older than her, with far more experience at such difficult tasks, who could judge the mood of the speech a lot better than her. It called for one person in particular she thought, someone with plenty of practice at writing as well as more life experience than her. Her mother was not ideal for the role, and neither was her father, though Gerry would probably have some ideas on what she could add.
No, she knew it called for her sister, Erin's poetic touch being required. Or just her touch, without the poetic element…
Whether she would help was another matter…
Getting on for half past five, Erin trudged towards the front door after a tough day at work. Starting off with a quiet day in theory, the theory was blown out of the window when the work suddenly began to ramp up and the other three's productivity did not. Michelle was the worst of them, predictably, moaning that they were doing enough already, forgetting they'd worked even harder at some points in the past. She was far too distracted by the rumours about the Americans arriving in the city, wondering aloud how many fellas there would be to choose from, and how they'd all be absolutely massive rides. Erin didn't disagree with her, finding herself unable to judge the Americans having never met one, but was more concerned about getting the work done, which her friend did not appreciate when she was cajoled into working faster.
Orla was equally as poor when it came to productivity that afternoon, which was also just as expected when Michelle started talking. Just as easily distracted, in fact far more than the dark-haired girl, Orla was also tired after Marie had a rare bad nights sleep. She'd woken her Mammy sometime in the middle of the night, complaining that she'd had a nightmare. Trying to settle her daughter without asking about the nightmare in case she got just as scared too, it took ages for the wain to start sleeping again. Disrupted, her mother was then kept awake longer trying to get to sleep as well, culminating in an unusually energetic Orla that Friday. Clare fared no better and being the ally that she usually found when the other two were not at their best, Erin was quite shocked and disappointed with her. Clare didn't have an excuse like the other two, not that Michelle's was acceptable mind, but at least she came up with something. The diminutive blonde seemed distracted all day, not even panicking a couple of times when she normally would have done. Concerned, Erin tried to ask what was wrong, only to find her attempt coming to nothing when her friend shrugged off any hints that there was anything wrong. By doing so, she confirmed that there was, but without understanding the issue, Erin made the decision not to try to ask any further. Clare would come to her if she was really upset, she hoped.
Before she'd even opened the door, Erin could hear her Granda shouting inside. Since the New Year, when they'd made up after the Christmas argument, Joe's temper appeared to have cooled. Slowly but surely, Shane was becoming an accepted member of the family, not without the usual barbs that Joe would throw at Gerry being thrown his way though. Erin would never be able to stop her Granda acting that way, his own mechanism of remaining in control of the family. He'd also been much more approachable in general, whether it was with her or even her friends, much to the young Quinn's surprise. Michelle was over one day and Joe held a civil conversation with her, something which had never happened before. The discussion was about the war, military talk which Joe was more used to, but it was still a shock to find him happily discussing conflict with her friend. They would often find it easy to clash, Michelle being who she was, yet instead they were laughing together. Some still argued that miracles were not possible…
"You stupid eejit!" Joe roared, the first words Erin heard as the door swung open. "Why did ye say no to me!? That could have been a treat for the girls but you and yer… southern way of thinkin' has put pay to that!"
"I couldn't say yes Joe!" Gerry argued back. "What if the cops caught on!? Do ye want me to go to prison!?"
"Aye I wouldn't mind! At least my Mary would have an excuse for leaving ye for someone else!"
Erin's presence in the kitchen stopped Gerry replying to Joe's insult immediately, which was probably for the best. Gerry pointing out to Joe that him being in prison would have still damaged the family's reputation, regardless of what he might have thought would have been detrimental.
"Evening Erin, love". Gerry addressed her first, opening his arm out to hug her.
"Evening Daddy". She replied, accepting the embrace. "Evening to ye too Granda".
"Alright love".
"Aye… what were the two of you's arguin' about? Christ I could hear ye halfway up the path".
Scowling, Joe turned to Gerry again, looking about ready to murder him, his eyes containing that much fury. To Erin, it was clear she'd stumbled upon an argument that was long in the making, especially with how tired her Da was looking. He'd only worked half the day that Friday, she knew, as he was having to cover someone who was supposed to be working on the Saturday. He can't have looked that tired from work alone. Granda Joe was clearly responsible…
"Yer… Da…". Joe almost shivered the title out, his displeasure made known. "… doesn't want to go and get some additional rations for the rest of the family. Useless eejit!"
"I'm not breaking the law for an extra rasher of bacon Joe!" Gerry shouted back at him.
"I'll break yer feckin' legs if ye speak to me like that again, boy!"
Finding herself in the usual role that Mary did when the two began arguing, it was Erin's turn to play peacemaker to stop Joe from ripping Gerry in half. She needed to find out exactly what the plan that her Da rejected was first though, concerned that the law being broken was against her morals but ultimately wanting to know how badly, to assess whether it was acceptable to break it. They'd been quite lucky in Northern Ireland, not suffering quite as badly as the rest of Britain, however rationing was getting tougher. Some women of certain houses were struggling despite the advice given for meals on the radio, often households finding tantrums spouting up because of them. If Granda Joe had found a way of stopping that spreading to their house, she wasn't going to be completely against it.
"Who has these rations, Granda?" She enquired with him, much to Gerry's disgust.
"Some Free State fella from across the border. He's sellin' some spares on the cheap, so he is, so I've asked yer Da to go but the lazy bastard won't!"
"For the last time Joe, I'm not riskin' goin' to prison for smugglin'!"
"It's not smuggling ye stupid eejit!" Joe countered. "It's yer Free State fellas helpin' us out when we need it!"
"Daddy has a point Granda". Erin spoke up again, in Gerry's defence. "Smugglin' is a crime after all, we can't have him loungin' around in a cell!"
"Well he might as well lounge around there than here!"
Trying to break up the argument was getting nowhere, not quite having the technique that Mary finessed to a tee. Erin didn't want to have to spend the rest of the evening listening to the two of them though, quickly coming to a resolution in her own mind that would stop them from arguing any further. She began to wonder where her mother was, Mary not having come to join in the attempt to stop them herself. It was most unusual behaviour but trying to find the answer would have to wait with the more pressing concern of stopping them arguing so she could have some dinner.
Before she could though, Joe revealed that he had more to say.
"I even brought a bicycle for ye Gerry and ye still won't go? Why did ye marry my Mary, why have you made her suffer this!?"
"Because we love each other Joe…". Gerry sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "… and we have done for more than twenty years! How many times do I have to tell ye!?"
"Daddy!" Erin roared, stopping both men from commenting. "I can ride a bicycle, where is this fella goin' to be, I'll go myself".
Horrified by her idea, Gerry could not let his daughter take a risk that he adamantly wouldn't take himself. He wasn't prepared to let Joe to use that to his advantage either, stance remaining unchanged even when he wasn't going to let Erin go. He was beaten to speaking by Joe though, who was pouncing upon everything that evening.
"The Free State side of Strabane, love. Just keeping followin' the road down but go across the wee footbridge at the side when ye get there. He's up in a wee shack the other side of the border, off from the main road".
"Erin yer not goin' on this… fool's errand!" Gerry decreed after Joe's instructions. "Yer needed here anyway, Anna wants to talk to you. As for you Joe, why don't ye go yerself?"
"Because I'm an old man, I can't be pedalling a bike in the dark at my age! Don't you put the blame back on me because yer too lazy!"
"Daddy I'll be fine…".
"No Erin!" Gerry put his foot down, firmly rounding on her. "I am not lettin' you get into trouble on account of yer Granda's ridiculous ideas! No one from this house is riding a bike down to Strabane to get extra rations from a smuggler, I am forbidding it! We are a respectable family, in case ye've forgotten Joe!"
Red-faced, ready to explode, Joe was halted in bellowing back at him by the look that Erin gave him. It was a reminder of his promise to be nicer to the fellas in the family, not just Shane but her Da too. She wasn't going to allow him to continually be rude to her Da, not in the matter that she guessed he was about, nor was she going to allow any further arguments to progress. More shouting would only lead to Mary charging downstairs, Erin assuming she was up with Anna, and creating more aggravation from her reaction. Backing off upon remembering the lesson, Joe turned around and walked out of the kitchen, marching off out of the house. The front door slammed behind him, leaving Erin and a relieved Gerry in the room, which began to simmer down out of the tense state it was in when Joe was there.
"I really didn't want to have to come home to that…". She commented. "Christ Daddy, why did ye let him corner you with that!"
"Wise up Erin!" A frustrated Gerry reacted angrily before realising what he'd done, and changing to a more appropriate tone. "I didn't know what he was going to want when he asked me if I could ride a bicycle or not. I was thinkin' he was goin' to have a go at me for not doing enough exercise… not that!"
Nodding her acceptance at the story, knowing her father would not lie, Erin could only shake her head at Joe's scheme. Smuggling in additional rations would be a lovely treat for them, but there were far too many risks in comparison to the reward. If anyone found out that they were smuggling them in then there was a chance they could be reported to the cops, or worse be caught by the Army men while riding back into the city. They might not have held formal powers in keeping law and order, they would almost certainly detain someone if they believed them to be smuggling, before handing them over the cops. She didn't know, and didn't really want to know, how Joe managed to trace the smuggler, although he was a well-connected man. As well as his age, a man of many connections like himself going out of the city on a bicycle, only to return a short while later, would definitely look suspicious.
"Ye don't honestly think one of us should go, do ye love?" A curious Gerry asked her.
"It would have been nice to have the rations Daddy, but then again I wouldn't want to go to prison for it. Or you for that matter".
Humming in agreement, Gerry was glad that she'd seen sense. Stubbornness was passed down from mother to daughter, which temporarily left him worried that she would dig her heels in and refuse to back down from the idea once it appealed to her. Fortunately, Erin could see a dangerous plan for what it was and used the sensibility she'd genetically received from him to make the correct decision.
"What was it that Anna wanted?" Erin asked him in return. "I wanted my dinner but if Anna needs me urgently then I guess it will have to wait".
"I'll get yer dinner on the go, love…". Gerry grinned at her. "… get yerself upstairs. Anna will tell ye herself, it's better that way".
"Aye… right…".
A curious, sceptical Erin, continued to stare at her Da for a couple more seconds, but Gerry gave nothing more away to his elder daughter. The news needed to come from her younger sister rather than him, being so important and special. It wouldn't have reached her in the factory, especially with Mary leaving earlier that afternoon as she was owed some time back after working late the week before. Half of the factory floor were owed time from one day or another, Erin included, her Mammy choosing to take the time that afternoon. Still yet to make an appearance, she was all the more convinced that she was upstairs. The weather was not nice enough for her to be out in the garden, even if there wasn't any rain, because it was still blustery and cold. A very typical Friday early evening in Derry during the winter.
With nothing more to be said by Gerry, who began to prepare her dinner for her, Erin headed off in the direction of the upper floor of the house, without a clue as to why Anna would need her. She already knew that there were no more exams for her sister to sit until the end of April, so it couldn't have been revision as Anna wouldn't start that early. Not that she would need to revise, Erin thought to herself, her wee sister being capable of scoring full marks in any of her tests without so much as glancing at the textbooks. That wasn't quite true, mostly because Anna always put the work in to understand beforehand, but also because without revisiting key areas of certain topics, she always had the chance of forgetting something.
Arriving at the door of her little sister's room, she paused, the two occupants of the room not noticing her presence in the doorway. She'd been correct in guessing that her Mammy would be up there with Anna, walking in on the two having a conversation, presumably about whatever it was that her little sister needed from her.
"I'm not sure ye should be layin' down the rules like that, Anna". Mary told her frankly. "Ye have to remember love, these soldiers will have been given rules by their officers".
"But they need to know to be respectful, Mammy. We have a cracker city and they don't know that". Anna argued peacefully.
"They will know that if their officers have a brain cell between them. Ye know, they will have done their research on Derry, love, they'll know what to expect".
Sighing, Erin could hear the frustration from within her sister, knowing it from when she'd been sat at her own desk writing before. Assuming to herself that Anna was doing some sort of homework to do with the imminent arrival of the Americans, which she'd been informed about at work that week, the written task must have been causing no end of problems.
"If I take that out Mammy, then I'll have barely anything left. I shouldn't have said I'd do this, it… it's too hard!"
"Now that's not the attitude, love…". Mary bent down, so that they were eye to eye. "Yer not always going to understand everything all of the time. Now I'm sorry that I can't be of anymore help to ye but yer Sister will be. Ye know Erin likes to do her writing and she'll know what to say to these fellas".
Clearing her throat from the doorway, loudly enough so that the other two could hear, Erin smiled at them. Still in her work clothes, with visible signs of tiredness from the straining of her eyes, she looked ready to go to bed, rather than help. Mary could sympathise with her when the workload was rising once more, especially when the members of her team were clearly not fully pulling their weight. Spending a lengthy amount of time with Michelle Mallon was difficult in a social setting, leaving Mary unable to understand how her daughter managed to cope working directly with her. She didn't dislike Michelle, not at all, but was very much aware of how easy the young Mallon could get under one's skin on her worst days.
"ERIN!"
Anna called out her big Sister's name in delight, running over to her as she jumped down from the chair by her desk. Mary couldn't help but start to grin at the sight, her lips curving up even more when Anna jumped into Erin's outstretched arms. After another Autumn of discontent where Erin would barely interact with any of them, seeing her open her heart to her sister was truly special. Anna did not hesitate in embracing her sister despite Erin being in her dirty work clothes, instead revelling in the contact. Before the war they'd developed a special bond as sister's which was slowly lost as they progressed into it, Erin working more and Anna beginning school. Hints of it returning were a positive development for the whole of the family.
"Yer happy Anna… and cuddly". Erin cooed, squeezing her a little harder.
"So are you!" The younger sister exclaimed in delight. "I've been lookin' forward to havin' a cuddle all day!"
"I have to".
Content to leave her daughters to the task that Anna was given by Sister Michael, Mary slipped out of the room without being noticed. It didn't mind her at all that her two daughters were ignoring her to enjoy the moment together. When there had been a time in the Autumn when Erin completely refused to help her nervous sister, she would happily leave them to it when they were prepared to work together.
"Now…". Erin started. "… what do ye need my help with?"
The sisters were apart once more, Anna having reluctantly ended their hugging to be able to explain the task that she'd been set by Sister Michael. The Sister spoke to her privately later that day after the assembly, showing her truly caring nature by making sure a second time that she was comfortable doing the speech. It was a lot more than was usually asked of a six year old, but confident that she could pull it off with Erin's support, Anna confirmed to the nun that she was ready for such a task.
"I… I have to write a speech". Anna nervously admitted, wringing her hands".
"A speech?" Erin's brow raised as she asked. "About what?"
"I… well… Sister Michael wants me to write a speech that I have to read out to the American soldiers when they get here".
Erin's face lit up with glee, exactly how Anna wanted it to. To be involved with greeting the visitors, utilising her literacy skills in order to provide that aid, Erin was always going to be happy. The rest of the family as well as her friends and just about anyone else who'd ever seen or heard her work, hated it and would have never asked, but Anna was more open minded. Along with James, she could see the beauty within her sister's poetic ramblings, which went otherwise unheralded by everyone else. She needed a mature touch to make sure that she was addressing the soldier's correctly too; Erin was perfect… and she knew it.
"Right then, sit yerself down". Erin ordered softly. "We have some work to do!"
He knew that Kurt was there.
He'd been there a lot since the New Year dawned.
In no position to turn him away, he could nothing but lay there and wait.
Much of James Maguire's life since the fateful night in Taranto was about waiting, but never before had the wait been so painful. This time though, he was not waiting for the hope of being able to escape, to return home to Erin to tell her that he loved her and that he wanted her to be his wife. At the beginning of 1942, he was waiting for his own death. Resigned to being unable to escape, he'd convinced himself that death was coming sooner rather than later as he lay face down on his bed in pain. His back was still recovering from the torture, every whiplash taking off more skin that night to leave him with a literal bareback.
Days merged into one during a freezing cold January, the only constant being Kurt's presence around him. Ever since he'd collapsed face first onto the bed, the Doctor took care of the young Pilot, extending a similar level of care to Professor Molinari, which James once again did not understand. If he were to guess, it must have taken him two or three days to regain proper consciousness after the flogging he'd been put through. Kurt wasn't always there every single day, and never stayed overnight, but he addressed the Englishman's wounds diligently. Although he wasn't a doctor who specialised in general practice, it was well within his repertoire to perform it. A strange contrast for a man whose role for Nazi Germany was to find ways of taking lives, not saving them.
Not a single question was asked by the Nazi, despite him wishing to know the answer to who James really was. Utilising Hitler's lack of need for an answer for some time, Doctor Van Der Heijden could nurse the young man back to health after leaving him so close to losing his life. Almost any other man would not have got back up from collapsing following five hundred lashes, but the Doctor could not deny that James held incredible strength, mentally and physically. The physical element of torture was naturally the easier to spot, especially in James' case, with his back left bereft of the skin that usually covered it. However, to be able to survive mentally was almost harder. Being unable to prevent the pain that they suffered, those on the receiving end would have to try to take themselves away to another world in order not to think about it. Most could not, but James was not just any other person. He was a complex character built upon the foundations of a brave, honest and good-looking young gentleman.
There was little change around him during those weeks, in which he barely spoke a word. Kurt might have been present everyday, but James only spoke to confirm the amount of pain he was in from his back. Immediately after collapsing, Kurt dismissed a still furious Hans, tending to James' wounds. The risk of infection was lower than it had been in years gone by, but leaving the wounds open without cleaning them was asking for them to become infected. As much as Kurt may have wished to inflict pain upon his prisoner, he could not afford to inflict death upon him through infection. For weeks he'd dressed and redressed the wounds as the skin began to grow back, having to sedate James during some of the earlier days when the dressings would stick to his flakily skinned back. By the time that Friday evening dawned, the skin had grown back fully where it was previously missing, the chances of infection gone with it.
Frank's death left James with no one else to talk, though for most of the time since the beginning of the New Year, he wouldn't have been able to climb on top of the chair to be able to look out of the window anyway. Only in the days before that night was James back on his feet again, and only that very morning did he gingerly attempt pull ups. A respectable twenty were done, but his physical condition had understandably slipped since he was immobilised. He would be able to return to such peak condition again, he knew, but knowing that his death was not that far away, it was almost pointless. He could have made himself the strongest man in the entire world and it would not have mattered at all. Death by the hand of Kurt Van Der Heijden was the last certainty he had left, even if the Doctor took care of him so effectively.
Walking around to take some exercise late in the evening, deciding that another session of pull ups could wait till the morning when he was in the right frame of my mind, his thoughts returned to where they always did. To Erin. He'd often spent days, in captivity and back when he was free in the Fleet Air Arm, wondering what she would be up to at the same time. He certainly wouldn't have guessed that she was helping Anna with a speech that she would put to the American soldiers that arrived in Derry, but one of his guesses was writing. If it was not writing then she would probably be out at a dance with the rest of the girls, hopefully enjoying herself. He might have dreamt that one day he would return to her, but with that day gone, James could only hope that she was finding happiness again. The thought of another man by her side made his heart ache because of how much he loved her, how much he would always love her. Denying her happiness was not what he wanted though, and if another man was able to call her his, then he would be the luckiest man alive… just as he'd been before the war.
"James!"
The familiar sound of Doctor Van Der Heijden's voice filled the room, even when he did not. Using the slit that the guards would normally deliver his food through to shout out to the Englishman, it gave him some warning of the Doctor's return. A return he'd been dreading since the Doctor left him the day before. A couple more seconds went by before Kurt entered the room, just enough time for James to return to his bed where the Doctor found him. Dread for the visit, for James, came from it not being one which was done for medical reasons. He'd spent his first day without any dressings on the wounds at all, Kurt therefore not coming to redress them when there was nothing to redress whatsoever.
"You are looking well, James…". The Doctor opened the conversation. "… the best you have for weeks!"
"Thank you, Doctor". He replied, feigning a grin, tilting his head for good measure. "One tends to find one feels better when he is not being whipped or stretched".
Rolling his eyes, Kurt could only giggle at James' comment. Control tipped back over to the Doctor by the end of the night of New Year's, though it was a loose control given how strong he knew James was. He'd missed their battles of wit when James was reduced to almost monosyllabism following the flogging, which he himself had ordered. The Englishman's decision to joke about making it worthwhile was the young man's own fault when Kurt's original plan was to try not to go above fifty lashes, let alone reach ten times that. Somehow James was still able to carry on and that night, the Doctor thought, he could have probably taken another five hundred lashes and remained standing. Although James might have suggested differently, Hans certainly hadn't held back the power in the lashes he'd reigned down upon James. His strength was incredible…
"Ha! Your sense of humour has not left you either". Kurt chuckled. "You will be pleased to know that there will be no flogging or time on the rack today… nothing at all actually, my time is quite pressed".
"I'm sorry to be such a disturbance to your schedule…".
"No". Kurt held his hand up, smiling. "You are no hassle, James. A treat for my day in fact!"
Torture was no treat, but Kurt was not the victim, therefore not knowing what it was like to be on the receiving end. He could guess, but from his perspective it did not matter. He was not the one being tortured, so he didn't need to know how much it hurt James. The Englishman watched on for a moment without returning a comment, Kurt removing his pistol from its holster, inspecting it in front of his prisoner. To James, it was a power play, to remind him that the Nazi was in control not him, remaining unfazed by the weapon while he knew he remained useful. For how much longer that he would be of use, he did not know, but with unchanged circumstances it appeared his value was still high… not that he could say why.
"Where is the Lieutenant? I haven't scared him off have I?"
James commented on Hans' lack of presence in the room, especially when the two always came to him together. During his desolate month of recovery, he'd often thought of how much he was growing to dislike the young man at Kurt's command. Although the Doctor fairly pointed out that he was a soldier following orders, just as James had done as a pilot, there was a frank difference between the men. James would never do what Hans had done to him even if he was ordered to do it, instead thinking to himself that he would accept the relevant punishment for not doing so. Such barbarity did not belong in the already savage world in his mind.
"No, not at all". Kurt grinned. "Hans has other things to do that I have asked of him, but I think he will be bringing the car back around shortly".
Taking the information in for a moment, he was quite glad the Lieutenant was not there. After taunting him by telling him he'd barely felt four hundred and ninety nine of the lashes, another lie to add to his growing list, the murderous shouts that the Lieutenant made, echoed around the room. There was no doubt that if anything were to happen to Kurt and he was left under Hans' care, he'd been dead within the hour. Hating anything or anyone British, Hans did not appreciate his technique being slated by the man he'd flogged. Far more easily led and volatile than the Englishman he'd took the skin off, it was incredibly simple to force a reaction from the young man. James enjoyed it every time that he managed the feat, though it could easily be disadvantageous to do so.
"What is it that you want then?" James enquired, a serious look on his face.
"I want to talk James. About your mother".
Kathy Maguire.
The illustrious Kathy Maguire. Kurt wanted to talk about her. James had told him previously that his parents were dead, and the two of them were out of his life for a long time. Nothing changed in the time between his initial statement and that of the one he was about to make. However, there was a spy in Derry who appeared to know an awful lot about him. If they knew about his mother, then it narrowed down the thoughts of who it could be in his mind, which made it a lot worse. Whoever it was either knew the story from him or was well aware of Kathy's activities from being close to his circle of family and friends.
"My parents are dead, Doctor. I do not want to have to go over it with you again". He huffed, pretending to be upset.
"I agree that your father is most likely dead but my spy paints me a different story when it comes to your mother. I am not sure who I should trust more; my chained up prisoner or our Empire's chief spy in Londonderry".
It was the spy indeed. As James feared, the spy in Derry knew a lot more about him than he knew about them. They were turning out to be a constant thorn in his side, his lies being picked apart by their accurate information. Assessing the potential candidates in his head, he could rule out Erin, Clare, Orla and Michelle, though he would not have done had the latter not sent her letter of apology earlier in the war. Anyone of anybody else could have been the spy, but in his belief that the spy was in fact a woman, the window narrowed as to who. He only had a few people in mind who could have fit the bill after a while.
"Your spy has a lot of information, but how much have they truly got correct? There might be parts to their stories that are missing".
"I highly doubt that". Kurt defended the spy. "Only you can correct them if you know the story to be untrue anyway. Shall we begin the story of your mother, now?"
The lack of response that he gave was not going to deter Kurt at all. Pushed for time anyway, whatever he wanted, he wanted quickly. As far as James was concerned, there was nothing more he could say about his mother, Kathy being in Switzerland and out of the war in his eyes. She was of little relevance to the Doctor, who required information that for once he did not even understand. It was not quite the question of who he was by asking about his mother, perplexing the young man as to why the Nazi would see her as important. She might have been important to him as she was his mother, but she could not be important to Kurt or Hans.
"Who is she?" Kurt probed. "Why does this woman have a son so important, yet does nothing to try to find him when he is missing? Why is she not looking for you?"
"Old age appears to be catching you up early, Doctor…". James snarled in return. "Do you not remember me telling you that my parents died? My mother does not look for me because she is no longer alive".
"Yet again you lie James. Your mother lives".
Irises were soon locked together, the two men staring each other out. Kurt was not going to allow James to continue on with his day of recovery without him giving him what he wanted, but without the time to torture him for it, it became a more stuttered challenge. The threat of violence was always there, his pistol still drawn, but the Englishman could easily contain anything he threw at him. That was why he'd resorted to the mental battle with his prisoner; the physical one could not be completed as effectively. Proving himself to be an adept fighter when it came to battles of the mind, James was once again prepared to push aside his feelings to defend himself, and his mother, who truly was alive. Kurt would never find her if he could help it.
"I do not lie. My mother is dead".
"Yes! Yes you do!" Kurt roared. "If my source tells me that your mother is alive, then she is alive! Tell me where she is!"
Unexpectedly exploding into a fiery rage, Kurt accidentally handed James the upper hand, just when he was trying to break him. Firm in his beliefs that he would never betray his country nor his family, the young Pilot stoically grinned at his captor. He was in control for a change, his back healing and his mind as sharp as ever.
"You will get nothing from me".
Short, abrupt and downright cold in his reply, James' stare could almost pierce through the heart of a recipient of it. Kurt Van Der Heijden was a man without a heart, at least in his eyes, which meant it was less effective, but the Doctor was having to concede defeat regardless. His tactic of forcing an answer through asking about his mother, who his spy confirmed was alive somewhere away from Derry, was unsuccessful when he said nothing. Expecting him to be close to the woman that birthed him, Kurt believed that his prisoner would tell him everything if he believed there was a threat to her. Capturing the woman, who Kurt did not know the name of in truth, the spy being unable to provide it, would have been optimal should they have been in the position to. Unbeknownst to either man, she knew full well why James was so important to Britain…
"Once again you fail to make this process easy for me or yourself, James. It is almost as if you wish to inflict great pain to yourself, instead of just talking like every other man would".
"I am not going to betray my country like other men would". He countered. "That is not the man that I am".
"You are not that man I agree. You are a fool. A fool who I have no more time for today".
Kurt did not tell a lie when he said that he was busy, the Doctor already finding his time to be nearly up. The sound of a car confirmed it a couple of seconds later, almost certainly being the ready to depart Lieutenant Hartmann. He would have waited for hours if Kurt told him to, but with an already busy schedule that demanded his attention, the Nazi could not utilise those hours on James. Another time he would have done, and there was still plenty of time before Hitler desired an answer when it came to the Englishman.
"I'll miss you, Doctor". James mocked. "I do so enjoy our time together".
"Be careful James…".
Kurt's voice dropped to one of warning, one which James immediately bristled at. There were certain tones that he could not stand hearing from the Professor, and that was one of them. Without saying what was to come, he was making sure that his prisoner was back in line beforehand, returning the power in their battle to his side.
"You need to remember humility and your place here in Rome. I will show you where that is when we next meet, unless you wish to tell me who you really are".
A stupid attempt, he still needed to try. Kurt was prepared to stop all of his questions and all of the torture if James would just say who he was. What he did afterwards would depend on what the Englishman told him, but he was going to reasonable regardless. Unless he truly was useless after everything, his fate sealed rather quickly in that scenario.
"My lips are sealed".
"Good…". Kurt laughed. "… that is the answer that I wanted to hear".
Devilish chuckling emanating from the pits of evil within the Nazi doctor, were the sounds that made James despair. His predicament was only going to get worse.
"Until next time, my friend…".
Derry, the following Monday…
Multiple American warships streaked into the mouth of the Foyle that morning, ready to be docked for the foreseeable future. Sailors and soldiers from land afar to the west were transported by the armoured steel hulks, that travelled in groups, constantly aware of the threat of the German U Boat Divisions. All of the ships that were supposed to arrive did so safely though, the men aboard them gazing out over both banks of the Foyle to the city that they were soon to know as their home. Integrating themselves into a culture they'd been taught, but ultimately did not know much of, would be as hard a task as any part of the training that they would undertake. Politics and religion were on the no go list for the Americans, told by their officers of the potential to incite trouble by debating either. They'd been warned off of the women too, a worry for those in command who'd been told how welcomed they would be. Across Northern Ireland, soldiers would begin to bed into a new culture, Belfast especially seeing a high concentration of men arriving. They were there to win a war, and they would do in time… that was the plan.
Work and school were largely ignored that Monday, such was the draw of the new arrivals. The factories worked harder on the Friday to accommodate for it, knowing that nobody would turn up to work when the Yanks were coming. Crowds amassed around each dock, with those on the Eastern side crowding around just down from the base that Charlene was responsible for overseeing the development of. She was preparing to board one of the ships to meet the commanders, though it would be after the wild scenes of adulation died down. The rest of the city could not know that she was doing so, her cover needing to remain in place. She was too important an agent to the Crown to have it blown.
The main interest was on the Western side though, which is where they would officially be greeted upon arrival. The troops disembarking on the Eastern bank would stay there to be welcomed by someone else, but on the other side, they would be greeted by the city's brightest daughter. Anna's speech was ready, perfected with Erin, who'd been an incredible help. All of Friday evening, they diligently prepared the speech together, not missing out anything of importance whilst trying not to make it too long. The last thing that the Americans wanted after a long trip across the sea was to have to stand around listening to a wain waffling on about their culture. As much as it was important to get across their identities to the incoming arrivals, they did not need chapter and verse. Erin's talents as a poet may not have been valued by many at all, but she could still write a cracker speech without complaints. The majority of the work was Anna's still, but where it was needed, an additional touch was added by her big sister, exactly how she'd envisaged it.
All morning, members of the local government began to erect a small stage from which she could deliver her welcome message for the Yanks. She was there early too, along with the rest of the family, making sure they were right there with her for what was to be her greatest moment. Unfortunately, trouble seemed to sprout up anywhere the family turned up to, and there'd been a bit of it that morning, though not from the quarters they'd expected. As early as they'd got there, Clare was up and out even earlier in her excitement to welcome the Americans to Derry. A young girl attempted to take the spot in the crowd she'd picked out for the rest of her friends and family, resulting in a scrap that left her with a bloody lip and the wain with a bruise. Erin chastised her for doing so, not believing initially that she'd ended up fighting a wain over somewhere to stand. She'd forgotten how seriously Clare took matters like that though, remembering a few minutes after berating her.
By the time that the ships docked, their horns blaring out around the city to the sound of cheers and cries of jubilation, the family were all in the crowd except from Anna and Erin. Staying behind to keep her little sister company, she wanted to be there for her big moment, not because she'd put some of the work in, but because she was so proud of her. It would have been easy for the older sister to have been jealous, especially when she knew she would never have the smarts of Anna, but Erin instead took it in her stride positively. Contributing to Anna's success in the past would have left her wanting to be adored just as much, but a maturing Erin did not need such adulation. To be able to stand by her sister's side while she delivered the speech was more than enough. It nearly didn't happen at all, when one of the mayor's aides questioned why she needed to be there, only to be met with the foulest look Erin had ever seen on Sister Michael's face. Her old head mistress was there too, stood behind them with an expressionless look on her face. Beneath the surface, she was secretly delighted that Anna was going to represent the school by delivering the speech to the soldiers, though she would never show it. Sister Michael's reputation was of a stern authoritarian… it needed to be maintained.
"Are ye alright Anna?" Erin enquired, a smile on her face.
"Aye…". She replied quietly. "I… I'm a wee bit nervous".
Reaching a hand out, Erin put Anna's little hand in her bigger one, giving it a squeeze to show her love for her sister. The pride in heart rushed from her veins to the point at which their palms intertwined, blood rushing in the guise of love.
"Ye'll be fine Anna. I believe in ye and everyone else does too. Yer our wee hero".
If she wasn't about to deliver a speech to hundreds of Americans then she would have cried where she stood at the praise. She wasn't unused to praise when it was always lavished upon her by her parents and teachers, but to hear it from Erin was truly special. Aware that her sister had suffered so much without James, a newly formed respect was beginning to grow for her, with Erin turning the page after a year or more of upset. From the dark of her autumnal solace, the dawn of a new winter light shone brightly over the life of Erin Quinn.
Anna thought of Noah's Ark, that she'd learned about in church on one of the rare times she'd tried to listen and understand religion. She was still uncertain of whether or not she could truly believe in God, silently moving herself to an atheistic stance. She'd thought of that story in particular though because of what was happening in front of her on that chilly Monday morning. American soldiers and sailors were marching off their ships in file, two by two up to the large area in front of the stage that the sisters were stood on. Instead of Irish or English shouts filling the Derry air, the bellows of American officers were the loudest sounds that could be heard. Gerry had summed it up perfectly that morning when they were watching the ships traverse up the Foyle.
It was a friendly invasion.
Fifteen minutes or so later, every soldier and sailor that needed to disburse had done, stood in their rows, spread out as far as the eye could see. Some of them wore smiles on their faces, which were returned by many of the young women of the city, while others were glum and wary. Those that listened properly in the briefings knew that they could spark a riot with just a few choice words, staying with that mindset despite the warm welcome they were receiving. Trouble could brew around any corner, with another thought ringing in the minds of some of the men. Made aware that they earned far more than the average British soldier, flaunting their wealth was far from wise according to those in command. Some still would, they knew, but if they were to receive a bruising at the hands of a British soldier because of it, it was their own fault.
Trouble was not on the mind of Anna at all, as her moment to make herself known to the whole of the city and their new guests came. The mayor began to introduce himself to the crowd, inviting the senior officer from the American delegation up onto the stage to formally welcome him as the lead authority in the city. The British commander was there too, shaking hands with his American counterpart who he was going to be sharing the city with. As they talked away to the crowd for a couple of moments about thanking them for coming out to see them all, Anna and Erin both shivered. In their best dresses, which were very rarely seen outside of Christmas, they were absolutely freezing in the almost Baltic conditions that morning. They'd needed to look their best though, unable to hide under the warmth of a coat, which would have been the most ideal. The younger sister didn't have long to wait for her big moment though, the mayor suddenly beginning to introduce her.
"And now we will hear from one of our own, Anna Quinn. She has something she would like to say to our newly made American friends. Anna, the stage is yers…".
The mayor smiled warmly at her, giving Anna a last shot of confidence to begin her message of welcome. She even received an extra one, when Erin's hand rested on her back briefly. Between the sisters bond of strength, a crowd of hundreds of young American men was really no pressure at all.
"Good morning and welcome to Derry…"
She began with a level of vigour that she did not know. The confidence almost became over confidence when it mixed with the departing nerves, Anna having to reel it in after the first few words.
"I know you have had a long journey across the sea from your home and I know that many of you will be worried about coming to our city. You are all welcome here no matter who you are, or where you have come from. No man will be judged in this city when brave men like yourselves have come thousands of miles to fight in a war that no one ever wanted. Everyone in the city wants to thank you for coming, because none of us have asked you to but you have come anyway, to fight for all of our freedoms. We will always hold you in our hearts…".
Pausing momentarily, any hint of nervousness was gone when the crowds and the soldiers erupted in applause and cheers at her considered words. Some of the American officers were even beginning to become jealous of her, because never before were they able to put their men into the trance like state they were in listening to her.
"This city is now yours as much as it is ours, big enough for us to share with all of the love that we can muster. The war has been hard on us for more than two years, losing more than we ever wanted to but always clinging to the hope that one day we would be at peace again…".
Erin couldn't help but feel a tear in her eye. She understood the loss that her sister spoke of all too well…
"That day feels a lot closer with you here. You have given us the courage to extend our hopes, to know that while we suffer for the moment, we will prosper in the future when this war has been won. With you all here to fight with us, we can turn the leaf of our Emerald book, from where the autumn's winds have blown it off the tree. I speak for the city when I say I feel a lot safer knowing that you are, and that at church on Sunday, we will all add you to our prayers. Thank you and once again, welcome to Derry".
Finishing her speech with the most adorable wee giggle and smile, Anna won the hearts and minds of every single man, woman or child stood out in the grim cold that morning. She'd delivered a speech of maturity, that thanked the soldiers for making their journey across the Atlantic as well as capturing the relief that the general populace felt from having them there. America was an incredibly large land mass and there were plenty of young American men ready to be called to arms, to fight in another European War that was not of their making.
Erin immediately wrapped her little sister up into a cuddle, her immense pride finally moving her to the tears that had threatened all morning. The message of loss within the speech was one of the amendments that she'd made herself, a personal touch that was almost too much. For a rare time of late she thought of James, but not out of the love she held for him in the past, but for knowing that he would have been just as proud of Anna as she was. Her deceased fella thought so much of her sister, the three almost acting as their own little family at times. He would have no doubt treated her for such a resounding success should he have been there to see it himself, although one which was modest enough to remind Anna of who she was and not an unsavoury figure that she might become from demanding such lavishing to be bestowed upon her. Sister Michael soon took Erin's place, once the rest of the crowd were distracted by the American officers shouting orders at their men once more. She couldn't let Anna return to her family to enjoy the rest of the day without her knowing how delighted she was with her speech. A task delegated to her that she did not want to do, Anna performed it with far more justice than she could ever have done.
The announcement was soon made by the mayor that the soldiers would be released into the surrounding area of the dockside to mingle with the crowds, in an attempt to relax in the city and understand the culture they'd been taught. Erin and Anna soon made their way away from the stage, separating from one another with a final hug. Anna went back to receive the congratulations of her family, whilst Erin dashed over to Michelle, Clare and Orla, who'd left Marie with Sarah and Shane, much to Joe's annoyance as he went with them too. Still trying to trust Shane, it was a tough process for him, but practice did him no harm when it came to it.
"Anna was fucking immense!" Michelle shouted with glee as they came together as a group. "She's such a cracker wain ye know Erin".
"Aye I know". Erin grinned, immensely happy. "She does us proud, doesn't she Orla?"
No response came from the widowed mother, who'd become distracted by some of the shiny badges on the arms of one of the American soldiers. Leaving her to it without attempting to regain her attention, which would most likely stray again after another minute, Clare took the conversation over to reveal her own delight over Anna's performance in front of the crowds.
"She was brilliant! Those soldiers loved her… she's so smart!"
"I know she's a right clever little thing! Fuck me, we're right eejits compared to her!" Michelle exclaimed. "Oh hang on…".
Tilting her head to the side, Erin and Clare turned to follow their friend's line of vision. Once they did so, they realised why she'd halted the conversation. The Yanks were finally being released completely by their officers, to talk to the citizens of the city in an attempt to fit into the new culture they would be living in. Michelle's talk all week was about how handsome the soldiers would be, in far less flattering terms, and her eyes were drawn to them as they found people to talk within the crowd. She'd told the girls that she was prepared to flutter her eyelashes, as well as other parts of her body, at anything that moved with an American accent. None of them could find a reason to doubt her either. It was Michelle after all…
"Those soldiers are walking towards us, so they are…". Orla thought aloud to them. "… has anyone got a gun so that we can shoot them".
Erin looked at her in disgust.
"Sorry Orla… I left my pistol at home this morning".
"That's a nightmare, so it is".
Erin would have hoped that Orla knew that they were on their side, but she could never be too certain how closely her cousin kept up and understood the events of the war. She was often either too busy with Marie or too busy enjoy a night out with Michelle, that often ended up the same way as the dark-haired girls; the next morning, after spending the night in someone else's bed. Quantifying her understanding was very difficult in those scenarios. With a group of seven soldiers heading towards them, the young Mallon took command of the girls in a situation that she thrived in.
"Look lively girls…". She ordered. "… one of these might be my first yank… of course ye know what rhymes with yank?"
In unison, as they often did, Erin and Clare's eyes were rolling. A predictably Michelle comment from a predictably excitable Michelle set the tone once more. The seven men had already removed the helmets they were wearing when they marched off of their ship, showing off their natural hair to the crowds. Not even Clare, who was completely uninterested in them, could deny that the men were handsome, a lot more than the British soldiers or even the local lads. Well paid, handsome and relatively struggle free so far, the yanks brought with them a sense of freedom that was long starved from the British public.
What they could not muster was Orla McCool being herself. That was unique to Derry and Derry only.
"Let's see Michelle… well ye've got tank… bank… sank… erm what else…". She pondered, to the frustration of her friends. "… rank… dank… oh, I know, Michelle! W-".
"Orla!" Erin reprimanded her, pointing out that the soldiers were nearly there. "Enough!"
The girls all gave their most pleasant smiles to the oncoming soldiers, who returned them with equally positive grins. They'd probably not seen loved ones, or even women, for weeks, Erin thought to herself, the sight of those four almost being like angels to them. They were four very different angels than to what the bible led a reader to believe, but there was pride to be found in bringing joy to those who were going to be giving their lives in the pursuit of peace and freedom.
"Mornin' ladies…". The first man, the tallest of the group spoke up. "… what are four fine lookin' young gals like you doing out here on such a cold mornin'".
Mary warned her how smooth the Americans could be, Erin finding her Mammy to be correct a few hours after she'd said it. The man was barely through his first sentence when it became clear that the Yanks had a way with words that the Brits simply did not. Their voices sounded of the same freedom and tranquillity that their presence brought. Infectious, it was…
"Aye well ye know, we heard a rumour that a group of good-lookin' fellas were sailing in this mornin'…". Michelle flirted back, brushing her hand against the bottom of her hair. "Couldn't miss that, could we…".
"No…". Orla spoke up in wonderous agreement, looking at the tall man. "… aye yer voice is so soft… like listening to the wee baby Jesus, so it is…".
"Well ma'am, you never know where you might find your next messiah…". A blonde soldier, with beautifully swept hair, spoke up to the tall man's side.
"We weren't told how good lookin' you Irish gals all were before we boarded. Best decision I reckon I ever made…".
The soldiers knew exactly what they were doing, even when they were told not to, finding Michelle and Orla more than welcome to return the favour when it came to the flirtatious remarks. Possibly without knowing or wanting to do so, Orla was attracting more attention than Michelle from the Yanks, who were all looking at her with temptation in their eyes. Erin and Clare were nowhere near as open around the men, though Erin smiled her way through most of the comments, pretending to enjoy them even when she found them somewhat patronising. Disgusted, Clare only kept her mouth shut because she didn't want to cause a scene, as well as knowing that somewhere behind her, her Da was watching on. She couldn't run the risk of him getting the wrong idea or her starting trouble with them which might expose her secret.
"Soldiers then you lot?" Michelle enquired.
"Yes Ma'am. Ready to kick some German behinds back to where they came from… when we get the chance". The tallest spoke again.
"Aye… well I'm a bit of a sailor myself…".
Michelle continued to flirt, going so far as to put her hand on the chest of the tall man, while she got much closer to him. If his commanding officer saw him then he'd be up for punishment, but the man didn't care too much when a young woman like Michelle was swaying her hips around in front of him.
"Sailor? I didn't think women sailed in Ireland?"
"Oh aye… I'm the Captain of the Tug Boat… if ye get my meaning".
Flexing her wrist to confirm the crude gesture, Erin and Clare both looked at each other, the same knowing stare reflected in their eyes. Sighing internally, they could have almost written the script of the conversation from Michelle's perspective. She only contained one outcome on her mind that morning. It was her voice they heard next to, the blonde's stunned into saying anything and Orla too mesmerised by how the Yanks looked to comment on it.
"And if yer interested, I'll be right here tonight at seven o'clock for a guided tour… if you fancy boarding my vessel…".
"Ma'am…". The tall man warned but doing so flirtatiously. "… we might have a boarding party of seven. I hope that's not too much to handle…".
"Seven's no trouble to accommodate for me… and my first mate here".
She moved to grab hold of Orla, who was only partially paying attention to what Michelle was saying, understanding even less of it. However, it didn't stop her nodding her head in agreement when coaxed a little by Michelle's enthusiastic nodding to her left. Erin sent her friend a look of anger for leading Orla astray, though she was smart enough to know there was little she could do about it now that her cousin was agreeing to go.
"Aye".
Barely on Irish soil for an hour and the yanks were already making their considerable presence known to the residents of the city. Erin could only shake her head, a mixture of annoyance with Michelle and frustration with Orla. She always tried to look out for her cousin but would leave Michelle up to the task that evening when they got up to whatever it was that they were going to… of which she held a fairly decent idea. The promise that the Yanks brought with them might have been to win the war, which she for the first time in a long time began to think was possible, but they brought the winds of change and mischief too.
Derry was about to be changed considerably by their presence within the city.
Whether it would be a positive or negative change would remain to be seen…