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  More Than a Man's War

  We married as soon as we finished high school. It was the most magical time of my life.

  We had the worst, crappiest apartment New York had to offer. But it was cheap, easily within our price range. Alfred worked as a part-time mechanic, while I was an occasional seamstress. We had to work hard to make ends meet, but it was well worth it.

  We spent endless days laughing and enjoying our marriage. We both ignorantly believed those days would last forever.

  Him, laying on the couch, me sitting on his lap, both of us content with doing nothing but enjoying the other's presence. And then the radio would spout out a lively song after the news and Alfred would come alive again and we would dance like lunatics around our tiny living room. I remember one time he lifted me high up and we broke the light bulb. Such wonderful days.

  And then the Japs annihilated Pearl Harbor. No one was ready for such a blatant declaration of war. Like blind pacifists we all thought the war in Europe would stay in Europe.

  People panicked. They cursed the Japanese and prayed for a merciless victory all in the same prayer. There was so much anger, one could practically feel it sticking its sappy horrors to your skin. It was such a fearful time.

  But I remember, the scariest moment was when Alfred opened that letter that stipulated all healthy and capable  men were to be enlisted in the military.

  We cried so much.

  He would hold me while we sat on our small round table in the squabble we had to call our kitchen. Petting me, coaxing me to believe the pretty lies that all would be well. God! I didn't want to let him go. Not when we had so many precious memories. Not when we could make so many more.

  Ah yes, I remember it well. One night, as we lay breathless in bed, I turned to face his beautiful naked body. It was a summer day, very humid. He kissed the area where my heart lied.

  "Baby? Promise me you'll never forget me."

  "There is no way that would ever happen." I began to sob, "I love you so much Al."

  He held me tightly, as if he never would let me go. I engraved his weight, his arms, his scent, every minute detail into my memory in order to prepare for the miserable nights ahead of me.

  He left in the morning. We hadto travel for three hours just to reach the train station that would transport my husband, my darling husband, to his training base in Oklahoma.

  "Goodbye (Y/N)! I love you!"

  The tears were already falling as I waved to him from the platform. He looked so handsome. The pearl like tears tracing his slightly chubby cheeks made me ache for him more than anything I've ever felt before. But despite his evident sadness, he still smiled.

  "Goodbye Alfred! I love you, so, so much!" I had to yell over the startup of the loud locomotive. "I'LL NEVER FORGET YOU! I LOVE YOU ALFRED!"

  I panicked as the train whistled, commencing in its departure. He hobbled a bit from his stance as he was moved by the moving train. The wheels chugged slowly. And then it moved.

  I couldn't contain myself as I lunged my legs forward to keep up with the large machine. My hat fell off as I raced to keep Al in my view.

  He gingerly touched the glass as he cried from the inside of the train. I ran harder and held his hands, denied contact because of the glass. I kept running until there was no more platform to run on.

  I heaved in my own sadness for an hour after his departure on that damp platform.

  I knew I would never forget my darling husband.

                         . . . .

  Four months later, I was working at a renovated old factory which had fifty or so girls who sewed military uniforms and the like. I focused myself all days  on my work rather than think about the whereabouts of my husband.

  His letter came in three days ago. Only five sentences this time. But I appreciate all I can get.

  Darling Babe,  
I'm so glad you're not here with me. I miss you. I hope you haven't forgotten about me. I have to go, war to win. I love you.
                                     Your hero,
                                               Al

  I kissed the letter, and immediately began to write a response. It became late as finished writing down my message to my sweetheart. I kissed the corner, smearing my lipstick unto the loaded page. Small liquid forms of sorrow dribbled unto the kitchen table I was previously using to write.

  I closed my eyes, absorbing the ruckus of the city. The city's commotion calmed my anxiety, and I was finally able to fall asleep.

  I awoke the next morning by a brisk knock at the door. I tied my robe around my pajamas and put slippers on my feet. As I headed towards the door, my heart filled with dread.

  Too many questions without enough answers drained my mind of its energy. I clutched at my robe, nervous about answering the door. I swear I felt a chill come over me as I reached for the doorknob.  I shuddered, and opened the door.

  A military official greeted my eyes. His eyes were tired and brown. A fair amount of wrinkles littered his slightly tan skin. He appeared to be a man closer to sixty than fifty, but he had the aura of a leader.

  "Mrs. Jones?" His unquavering voice questioned.
                           
  It was then that I realized he had a black box within his calloused hands. I felt myself begin to shake.

  "No." I clasped my freezing hands against one another.

  "Mrs. Jones, I've come here today to tell you some unfortunate news about your husband."

  My head shook. "No. No, please."

  "He, along with some other men in his squadron, were reported KIA when a group of rebels attacked them in Italy. The damage done to this boys was so great that it was difficult to officially recognize them but after much searching we've discovered one them was your husband. My deepest condolences."

  "No. No no no NO!" I tossed the black box he outstretched towards me and desperately yanked at his clothing. We slid down to the ground as one big bundle of heartbreak and sympathy. He refused to leave until I had calmed down a bit.

  "You're wrong, you know." I said in a worn out voice. "He isn't dead. I would've felt it. He's my very heart. I would've felt it."

  The kind man said nothing. He muttered another apology and made his way out of my- of our, apartment. I felt, no, I knew, down to my very soul that Alfred was still alive. And I, I was going to find him.

                         . . . .

  I sighed as I rethought my plan once more. There was no way I could escape my choice now. I had to do this. But I will be needing help to carry my plan out.

  Snapping my tired back, I rubbed at my neck and walked my way outside, where many of the other ladies where having their lunch. I searched for the woman I needed. I saw her standing apart with two other workers.  

  Rushing to her side, I held her hand and whispered, "I need to talk to you," and dragged her back into the empty factory.

   "Hey, (Y/N), what's up?" Her slightly Brooklyn accent stood out as she talked. Her bright blue eyes shined in curiosity. I held Betty's gaze with a worried look.

  "I'm going after my husband."

  "Listen, (Y/N), you know he's not-"

  "He isn't dead! I know he isn't!"

  I paused, "I need you to smuggle some army uniforms."

  "Uniforms? What ever for?"

  I gave her a nasty look. Her mouth made an 'o' of understanding.

  "But do you really think-"

  "I don't think. Not anymore. Not when Alfred needs me. I'm going to the Army Betty. I'm going to bring my baby home."

  There were tears in both of our eyes. She crushed me in a hug that I gladly accepted.

  It was time to get to work.

                         . . . .

  I checked my figure in the mirror. I was glad that I was not curvaceous nor femininely figured as other girls, since it made my cross dressing less obvious. And my hair was cut in a military style. Had it been for any other reason I would have never cut even a single hair. But this was for Al. And I'd do anything for him.

  Even wear this hideous large framed glasses everyday while in the military. They were appalling to look at, but they changed my voice by slightly pinching my nose, making it more masculine.

  I sighed. I adjusted my cap for the thirteenth time. I couldn't help but smile.

  "I'm going to bring you home baby. There's no way I'll ever forget you. I'm bringing you home Al."
Miles Away. It's the song that started it all.
Please comment and I'll maybe continue
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kiwop's avatar
oMG YOU MUST CONTINUE THISS
Excited Arthur