Leeanne jumped as the phone rang and swore at her own reaction before putting the call on the speaker. “Sub-Lieutenant Morgan, Sir.”
“It’s about time you called me ‘sir,’ young lady.”
“Hey, Pops. What’s up?”
“Would you like to come over to the mess for dinner?”
“Is anything wrong?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Your admiral agreed to a little baseball game. You can get back for the tournament after supper if you want.”
“Baseball! It’s below freezing outside.” Silence greeted her protests. “All right. What time?”
“Five-thirty.”
“Okay. Bye, Dad.” She looked at her watch. Her mind focused on the classified register and the last messages from that morning’s mail. After reading most of them, she wondered why anyone would stamp them classified. The first was from her commanding officer, Captain Marc Leroche, to the commanding officer, Royal 22é Régiment, in Quebec. It contained one line: Nil Rtn. No return. A message about a missing generator and someone stamped it Top Secret. She shook her head at the stupidity.
Looking at her watch, she reached for the last message. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the words. She walked to the filing cabinet and reached for the “classified” logbook. Her finger traced down the page. Nothing.
She smoothed her skirt and walked through the office. “Sir,” she said, have you got a minute?”
He motioned her to come in and sit down. “I’ll call you back, Jacques. Good-bye.” Captain Leroche hung up.
She placed the message on the desk. “I was finalizing the classified register when this message caught my attention. The dates are either wrong or they have been changed. As well, your reference is nowhere to be found.”
“The supply officer told me of the amendments. Guess I forgot to make a note of it.”
“Would you mind finding that information, sir? I would like to try to keep this office running smoothly.” She smiled sweetly as she chastised her superior.
“Sub-Lieutenant Morgan. Are you telling me how to run my office?”
“Do you need it spelled out a bit clearer, sir?”
“Nope. Glad I didn’t miss that one,” he said, and chuckled. “I’ll find it. Go to supper. Are you back in tonight?”
She shook her head. “Army-Navy baseball game. By the way, is there any reason a message on a missing generator would be Top Secret?” Leroche shrugged without looking up.
#
Leeanne parked as close to the entrance as she could and walked up the short flight of stairs to the front door. One hand held her dark blue winter coat tight against her chin while the other held her bowler in place.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a sergeant said, and saluted as she entered the building.
“Sergeant,” she said, and returned his salute. She smiled, waiting for the inevitable.
“Any chance you’re tired of your husband yet, ma’am?”
“Sergeant,” she said, “even if I was, what makes you think you’d be first in line to win my hand, and what would your wife and children say?”
“Awww, shucks, ma’am. I’m so damned cute, how could you refuse? Besides, we just won’t tell my wife.”
She laughed and walked into the mess hall. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty. May I join you at the royal table?”
“You’ve been taking lessons from your husband for too damned long.” She stuck out her tongue at him and sat down. “Any word from him?” he asked.
“You talk to him almost every day.”
He shrugged. “That’s business. The operators don’t like personal chitchat on the military phone lines, and it doesn’t seem to matter that I’m in charge. By the way, his paycheck
is going to be a bit light this month.”
“Why?”
“From what I hear, he’s going to be charged with either fighting or conduct unbecoming for hitting another officer.”
“Was it a Captain, I hope?”
“Yes. Apparently, the other officer is going to be charged as well for spitting on James.”
“Spitting?” she asked incredulously.
“Spitting.”
“My God. Is the stupid bugger still alive?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Any mail from him recently?”
“As it so happens, I got a letter from him yesterday. He’s lonely, I’m lonely, and we’re all doing wonderful.” Hanson scowled. “He said something about a series of patrols this week and that everyone is dodging sniper fire.” She saw him looking at her. “I’m sure you already know about the problems they’re having with the weapons.” She pounded the table with her fist. “Why aren’t you doing something about that?” she snapped. “You don’t care if he lives or dies.”
Hanson paused before answering and carefully seated the napkin in his lap. “If you wish to speak to me like that at home, that’s fine, but around here you will watch your tone. I won’t take that crap from my own people and I sure as hell won’t take it from you.” His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the anger. “What would you like to drink?”
“Just a pop. I shouldn’t drink too much in my condition.” Hanson choked on his drink. “Just kidding. Tea, please.”
Hanson muttered and wiped off his shirt. He looked up. His aide de camp approached, leaned close, and whispered. As the young man straightened, he glanced at Leeanne and turned, almost running away.
He’s afraid of him, she thought. “Anything wrong?”
Hanson shrugged. “Lamb seems to need me upstairs. Come on up and we’ll call it a day when we get this settled.”
They rode the elevator in silence to the fourth floor and his secretary stood as they walked into his outer office. “The colonel is waiting for you, sir.”
“Have a seat. This shouldn’t take long.” He opened the door and stared. Leeanne, just sitting down, saw his face pale.
“Is Leeanne with you, sir?” Colonel Charles Lamb, the deputy commanding officer, asked from inside the office.
“Leeanne,” Hanson said. She walked to the door, confused that he just stood there. Nodding politely to Colonel Lamb, she looked to the other side of the office and her blood froze. Only one man could instill that level of fear in a person when a loved one was overseas. Ten feet in front of her, there he stood.
“Oh, God. Please, no,” she whispered. Her eyes teared over as she walked to the couch and sat down heavily.
“Mrs. Morgan,” the man said softly, “I’m Padre Madden.” She stared, hating him for what he was about to say. “Several hours ago, your husband was in command of a patrol through Bihać.” He stopped and looked at Hanson for a brief moment.
Leeanne stared. “And?”
His wasn’t a happy task, but was nonetheless a necessary one. “While attempting to rescue several civilians, he was wounded.” Leeanne put her head in her hands and fought back the nausea that washed over her. “He was immediately rushed to the Advance Surgical Center, where he was operated on by Major Vince Webber. The last report from Major Webber lists him in grave condition. James will be transferred to the U.S. Army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany, in a day or so if he stabilizes.”
Leeanne’s bottom lip trembled, and she looked at her