[legendsport]

September 13, 1942: Dow Field, ME:

The door to the Quonset hut swung open and a portly red-faced corporal entered. "Mail call, sirs," he said. He took a few steps into the large room and held up a handful of letters.

James Slocum who was sitting on his bed watching a few of the other pilots playing poker, looked up. "Anything for me Jenkins?" he asked.

Corporal Jenkins flipped through the small stack. "Yes, have a letter for you, sir," he said and flipped an envelope towards James. James caught it expertly. "Nice toss, Jenkins, you're getting better at this," James said with a chuckle.

"Practice makes perfect, sir," Jenkins said with a smile. He lifted another envelope and flipped it towards one of the card players. "For you, Captain Wilson," he said. James briefly watched Jenkins flip letters at the other pilots and then looked down at the envelope in his hand.

"Aw, Jenkins, your sweaty palms got this wet," James heard one of the guys complain. The weather was still warm, which surprised James. Dow Field was near Bangor and therefore it would have been difficult to be farther north and remain in the United States. The 91st Bomb Group had been at Dow for about a week, having flown their brand-new B-17s from Gowen Field in Idaho. Well, some of them at least. The rest of the "Forts" would be arriving soon, according to the Army, which James now knew, meant anywhere between tomorrow and next year.

The Group's ground echelon was on its way to Fort Dix in New Jersey and would soon board a ship for the group's ultimate destination: England. The aircrews would fly their aircraft to England in October, following a circuitous route over the North Atlantic with stops in Iceland and Ireland before reaching England. James hadn't been out of the country since the family trip to Berlin for the '36 Olympics. He felt a moment of pause as he realized the next time he'd see Germany was likely to be from the cockpit of his B-17.

The letter James was holding was from Agnes. The envelope was pink, making James wonder why she'd chosen that color. It was sure to attract attention, that was certain.

"Look guys, Slocum, got a letter from a dame," he heard one of the other pilots say, followed by a wolf whistle and then some snickering. James, proven right, shook his head.

"Stow it, Campbell," James snapped. "This is from my sister."

"Is she cute?" Campbell asked.

"You'll never know..." James replied with a grin and tore into the envelope.

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September 14, 1942: Northampton, MA:

Agnes McCullough wondered if her letter had made it to James. She sat on her bed in the dormitory of Smith College, site of the Officer's Candidate School for the United States Naval Reserve (Women's Reserve) which was a lot of military jargon that some wit had re-christened as the equally wordy "Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service" - and that of course had nearly been shortened into the acronym WAVES.

"Yep, I'm a WAVE alright," she muttered.

"What was that?" her roommate Loretta Connaughton asked.

"Oh... nothing. I was just thinking about my brother," Agnes said.

"The pilot, right?" Loretta asked with clear interest in her voice. "He's a cutie-pie," she added a moment later.

Agnes who was facing the window with Loretta at her back, rolled her eyes. Loretta was what Agnes' stepfather Jack Barrell would term "man crazy" and Agnes had made the unfortunate mistake of showing her a picture of James. Her half-brother had sent it to her when he'd graduated flight school, and she had to admit he did cut a rather handsome figure in his Army Air Corps uniform.

"I only have one brother, Rett," Agnes replied, biting off a sigh.

"Do you know where he is, or is that a secret?"

"Not exactly. Still in the States somewhere, I suppose. I would guess it is a secret. Wouldn't want the enemy to find out. Loose lips sink ships, right?" Agnes replied.

"Bah! Like the Germans have spies here," Loretta scoffed.

"You might be surprised," Agnes said. Privately, she agreed with Loretta, but she was on tenterhooks about whether the Navy would give her the assignment she wanted and wasn't in a congenial mood. And she was worried about James, too. Ever since Pearl Harbor, she'd been... well, something of a worry-wort about the people she loved.

Agnes had her back to the door and didn't know they had company until she heard Loretta bark, "Commander Williams! Ma'am!"

Agnes had been a quick study when it came to military discipline and shot to her feet, spinning and coming to attention facing the short and somewhat rotund woman in the door. Commander Williams somehow managed to look imposing despite her height, or lack thereof.

"Ensign Connaughton, give us the room, please," Williams said. Loretta quick-timed it out the door, shooting Agnes an "oh no" look as she did.

Williams closed the door, waved her hand and said, "At ease, McCullough."

Agnes relaxed - but just a bit.

Williams pursed her lips and looked Agnes up and down. "Well, McCullough, it looks like you're getting your wish," she said and sounded as if this was not something about which she was happy.

"Ma'am?" Agnes asked, wanting to hear the words, wanting to be certain.

"You're being assigned to language school. You'll get a crash course in Japanese," Williams told her, still looking like she'd been sucking on a lemon.

"Thank you, ma'am," Agnes said, fighting back a smile.

"Assuming you pass that course, you'll likely be stationed in Hawaii, to help translate decoded enemy transmissions," Williams went on, telling Agnes what she already knew.

"I recommended against this," Williams added after a moment. "Not because I think you can't do the job, but because your personal...." she paused and stared hard into Agnes' eyes before continuing, "experiences at Pearl Harbor might cause you to be emotional and that job will require cold, calculated, precision. I recommended you for German language school and duty at Norfolk. I was overridden."

Agnes was stunned and it probably showed; Williams gave her a somewhat crooked grin.

"Captain Underwood was impressed with you, I'm not entirely sure why," Williams said. Herbert Underwood was the commanding officer.

"Congratulations, McCullough. Don't let us down," Williams said, nodded her head and then spun and left the room.

Loretta shot back through the door a moment later. "So?" she asked breathlessly.

"I got it! I'm going to language school and then back to Pearl Harbor," Agnes said. She realized she ought to be smiling, but instead she knew her face was set with grim determination.

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September 17, 1942: Pago Pago, American Samoa:

The last few months had been a whirlwind for Roger Cleaves. His high school graduation had been attended by a Marine Corps representative, there at the judge's suggestion to ensure that Roger kept his word - and kept himself out of jail. He'd been duly poked and prodded by doctors, taken an oath he barely remembered and then whisked off to a mosquito-infested section of North Carolina for indoctrination into the craziest assortment of men Roger had ever encountered: the United States Marine Corps.

He'd discovered that he was actually well-suited for the Marines which shocked him. He was fit and strong and the physical rigors were no great challenge for him - when others fell out on grueling marches carrying full packs, he plodded on. The disciple, which grated at first, he eventually welcomed as he realized he was used to taking orders without question. The "family" would have it no other way and the Marine Corps was just the same. The drill instructors took notice and he was often used as an example for the other recruits.

After basic training he'd been selected as a machine gunner and given intense training on the use and care of the M1917A1 .30-caliber Browning heavy machine gun. The gun itself was a water-cooled beast that weighed 100 pounds. The squad had five members: the squad-leader, gunner, assistant gunner and two ammo bearers. Roger was a gunner and was confident he'd eventually be a squad-leader and eventually a section-leader in charge of two squads.

Now Roger and his squad had arrived in Samoa - which Roger had never heard of and wasn't quite sure exactly where it was other than somewhere in the gigantic Pacific Ocean - as replacements joining the 8th Marine Regiment, part of the 2nd Marine Division. Everyone was aware that the 1st Marine Division was fighting the Japanese on Guadalcanal and wondered when, not if, but when, the 8th Marines and the rest of the 2nd division would be joining them.

That would mean combat. He wondered how he'd handle that and hoped it would be bravely. He wanted to make his mother proud. And... for some reason... his sister too. Gloria had sent him several letters and though he hadn't replied, Roger often considered it. Having a sister was still a novel experience for him. And given his complete disinterest during school, Roger wasn't sure his rudimentary writing skills would be up to the task of writing letters.

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