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Then he tentatively slid his arm across Alice's shoulders. He felt her stiffen, and then relax into him. He smelled gardenias. The city looked beautiful to him tonight, awash in pale moonlight and the headlights of cabs. They rode in silence for about ten minutes before either of them spoke.

"Freddie?" Alice began, in a small voice.

"Yes, Alice?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud of you, and I think you're doing the right thing." His heart swelled and he pulled her just a bit closer to him. "I also wanted to ask if you would do me a favor."

"Sure, anything."

"I wondered if you would give me a kiss." He stared in surprise at her, but found that she was looking away from him. Before he could answer, she went on. "I know it's an awfully forward thing to ask, but I was always hoping that you would get around to it one day or another, and now you're going off to war, and I'm afraid that...I'm afraid."

Suddenly understanding, he pulled back, and touched her cheek lightly. She turned to face him, and in that moment, he felt a dim sense of purpose. He did not want to leave her alone, to go and face his fate among the thousands of other unnamed boys in Europe or the Pacific. But he knew there was nothing else he could do. If he didn't go now, how could he ever feel that he had done everything he could to keep this sweet girl safe? At once, it seemed very important that he didn't die without at least one kiss.

He leaned into her, noticing her long eyelashes glinting in the headlamp of an oncoming car. His heart was beating quickly, and he touched his lips briefly to hers before he lost his nerve. He pulled back only a fraction of an inch, and then brushed lips again, reveling in the softness of hers. Her blonde curls tickled against his cheek. Pressing their mouths firmly together for a moment, he then pulled back and was gratified to see a slight pinking of her cheeks. They didn't speak again until the cab pulled up in front of Alice's house. Fred again opened the door for her and, seeing that their parents had not yet arrived, risked pecking her on the cheek once more before she disappeared inside.


The second week of June, Fred spent the weekend at home with his parents before shipping out to Fort Dix, New Jersey, and then on to England. His mother kept trying not to cry, and his father expressed himself with hearty claps on the back. He wasn't able to get much time alone with Alice, but inexplicably found himself holding her tightly in the den on Sunday evening, sharing several long, tender kisses. Alice sniffed back her tears, and preceded him into the parlor, where his parents and the Wrights waited to see him off.

"Promise to write," she said to him.

"Every day."

He strode off into the cold night, and couldn't look back.


By the time Fred had reached England, he had already made a few friends in his company - Terrance and Jim, both from Boston, and Isaac, from Kansas, all 18. Isaac was a soft, sensitive youth who had grown up really in between cornfields. His mother had all but begged him not to enlist, but there was no changing his mind. He loved spinning the dials on the radio to find any classical music at all, but he had a special appreciation for Handel's "Messiah," and would often be heard humming movements from it. Though he seemed the most innocent, he actually had the most experience with girls. As he put it, there wasn't much else to do back there.

Terrance was the youngest son in his family of four boys, two of whom were also serving, but both in the Pacific. His mother also worried constantly, of course, but in his family it was taken as a given that he would enlist, no question about it. He was the tallest of them, always eating something in order to maintain his strength. He carried a picture of Betty Grable with him.

Jim was the only one of the four who hadn't actually enlisted.

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