Up until the past century, wedding rings were mostly worn by women, although the Christian church promoted exchanging wedding rings as a way of keeping men faithful. Dual rings only caught on during WWII when American and European soldiers wore wedding rings as a way to remember their wives and sweethearts back home. The tradition continued through the Korean War. After this, wedding rings for men caught on among civilians as well. – Gemological Institute of America

"I don't know how you stand wearing that thing," Newkirk muttered as he stood over Carter, who was scrubbing a tee-shirt in the laundry tub. It was the first mild day they'd had all month and Carter, for a change, had his gloves off.

"What, the tee-shirt? It's not that bad," Carter replied, lifting the garment up and watching it drip. "It's got a few holes, is all…" he said as he plopped it back into the water and resumed scrubbing.

"Not the tee-shirt. The ring. The one you're always trying to cover up with them gloves of yours. Don't think I haven't noticed." Newkirk smirked as he finished hanging his clothes on the line. He paused to light a cigarette. "Most blokes don't wear rings, you know. It's a bit… wet, isn't it?"

"It is now," Carter said. "It's good and wet, since I've had my hands in water. Not that gold absorbs water or anything, so it's not wet for long, but it got wet, for sure." He nattered on as he rinsed out the shirt, his shorts, and some socks.

"Not what I meant," Newkirk scoffed. Ruddy Yank, no grasp of idiom whatsoever. He lit up a smoke and leaned lazily against the barracks wall. "It looks like a lady's wedding band, like my mum wears. Or used to wear." He inhaled deeply as he reminded himself that she sold it after the old man abandoned them for the umpteenth time. "That band kept us fed for a fortnight," he mumbled. "So why do you wear it?"

"Hmmm," Carter snorted, but he said nothing because his mind was now somewhere on the road between Muncie and New York City.

Fortunately, LeBeau sidled up to Newkirk at just that moment to bum a cigarette, and the interrogation ended. Carter wrung out his clothes and hung them in the sunshine as his friends chattered. Then he dried his hands off on his trousers and wandered toward the barracks.

Newkirk called to him. "Come on, Carter, it's a lovely day. There are guards to harass, mate." LeBeau was chuckling at Newkirk's wisecrack as Carter waved them off.

"Got a letter I need to write. I'll see you guys later," he said cheerfully.

But as the door shut behind him, Carter leaned into it. He sighed and held his left hand out in front of him. What the heck had he been thinking? He hated the sight of that damned ring, but he just couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. He'd promised.

Carter found his gloves on his bunk and tugged them back on, then slumped onto the lumpy mattress. POWs weren't supposed to lie down during the day, but Newkirk and Garlotti did it all the time, and the guards were outside anyway. He closed his eyes and tried not to think. But his mind pulled him back to the day before he left for boot camp in the early summer of 1940.

ooooo

"I don't see why you're joining up," Mary Jane said with a pout. "The war is all the way over in Europe. It's not our problem." Lightning bugs twinkled as the sky dimmed. Mary Jane and Andrew were snuggling side by side on her parents' backyard swing, a place where they often passed their evenings after he got off work at the drugstore. It was more private than the front parlor or the porch, easier for kissing and… well, kissing. Not that Andrew didn't want more; he was a red-blooded 25-year-old. But Mary Jane was still studying to be a teacher, they both wanted a church wedding, and there were certain lines that just weren't crossed. They'd have to wait. They'd promised to wait.

"You know why," Andrew replied. "First the Germans annexed Austria, then they conquered Poland. They just flattened Holland and Belgium like it was nothing, now they're trying to take over France. It's not going to end until someone stops Hitler, and I want to be ready when we get into it."

"We're not getting into it. My dad says we're staying out."

"Your dad doesn't know, Mary Jane," Andrew said with uncharacteristic sharpness.

"Oh, and you do?" Mary Jane snapped back.

Andrew gulped. "I'm sorry, Mary Jane. I, I don't know for sure. Obviously I don't know. But I have to listen to my heart, and my heart tells me that what Hitler is doing is wrong and it's getting worse. I want to help our country, and just keep us safe."

"He's all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. Hitler's not coming here."

"I guess not, at least it's hard to see how he would do that right now. But France and England were our allies in the last war. We owe them something."

"We're not old enough to remember the last war, Andy! And anyway, we helped them! They didn't help us!"

"We helped each other, Mary Jane," Andrew said softly. "That's how democracies work."

He looked up and saw the tear trickling down Mary Jane's sweet face. She sniffled and they locked eyes.

"I just don't want you so far away, Andy," she said tenderly. "I don't want you to leave me. I don't want you getting caught up in a war."

He loved this girl, he really did. They'd been sweethearts since high school, and she was everything he wanted—smart, decent, kind, and ladylike. She and her family were also respectable in a way his hard-scrabble farm family back in North Dakota had never quite been.

"I'll be back every chance I get," Andrew responded. "I want to marry you, Mary Jane. I'm only committing to two years in the Army. And hey, guess what? They put me in the Air Corps!"

"A pilot?" Mary Jane's eyes brightened.

"Well, probably not a pilot. Not unless I get officer training first. But I can be on an air crew. And look, I can save my money and go to pharmacy school when I get back. How does that sound?" He tugged her a little closer, stroking her soft blond hair. "We can get us a little house with a white picket fence."

Mary Jane tried to smile. "That does sound nice." She elbowed him in the ribs and he reared back, pretending to be in pain. "Just don't do anything stupid like getting captured or killed," she warned him.

"We're not even at war, remember?" he chuckled as he pulled her chin toward his and kissed her—gently at first and then more ardently.