Introduction: This is a period piece set during World War II. There is no sex. The language may sound stilted, but this was my attempt to match the speech patterns of the time.
*****
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?"
"Buzz off, Jimmy."
"Hey Lefty! Is Tommy choking the chicken again?"
Lefty reached across the space between the bunks and yanked Tommy's blanket off. "If he is, he don't got a woodie."
"Are you disappointed, Lefty? Do you want to see me with a woodie?"
"You callin' me queer, city boy?" Lefty stood up, but Tommy's bunk-mate Jimmy smacked him on the head. "Knock if off. Tommy's in love."
"Will you two can it?" Tommy complained. "You guys have your pin-up girls. I like this picture. I used to deliver papers to the guy who drew it. I helped him build a shed behind his house."
"She's cute, but I like some of the Elvgren girls better," Jimmy said.
"Betty Grable for me," Lefty yawned, getting as comfortable as he could back in his bunk. "Now pipe down. The Krauts are quiet tonight. Let's get some sleep."
At mail call the next day, the clerk yelled, "A letter for you, Tommy!"
Tommy hurried back to the barracks. The letter was from the artist.
*****
Dear Thomas,
Of course I remember you, young man. You were the only paperboy we ever had who took the time to get off his bicycle and walk to the door. You were a fine handyman in high school. Now you're a man away at war. Time flies.
Normally I refuse requests for information on my models. They are all fine girls from good families, and I will not jeopardize their future. However, as I know who you are, I shall write to the young lady and tell her about you. She will have your address, so if she feels contact is prudent, she will initiate it.
You were a nice young man then, so I assume you're a good man now. God bless you for your service to humanity by fighting this evil.
Regards from a fellow patriot,
Theodore Baxter
*****
Tommy immediately wrote a polite letter of thanks, and then daydreamed about his pin-up girl.
A few weeks later at mail call, the clerk pulled an envelope from the satchel. "Whoo-wee! Pink. Must be from a lady. Thomas Hamilton, this is your lucky day."
Amid catcalls, Tommy retrieved the letter and dashed off to his barracks to read it.
*****
Dear Thomas,
Theodore Baxter wrote me a letter. He included a picture of you from the local newspaper. He says you are an airman stationed in England. You look quite dashing in your uniform.
I refer to Mr. Baxter as my Uncle Ted, although we are not related. He and Father are friends. Mr. Baxter is an artist and, as such, uses what he calls artistic license when he draws. His portrait flatters me. I am an ordinary girl. I work for my father, the doctor in our town, as his nurse. Father knows Mr. Baxter to be a gentleman, so when Uncle Ted wanted me to model, Father agreed.
I'm telling you this to try to say I'm a proper young lady. I don't normally write to boys I don't know, but Uncle Ted spoke highly of you. You must be very brave. If you wish, we can become pen pals.
Sincerely,
Diane Miller
*****
"Diane." Tommy experimented with the name in his mouth and mind. "Diane. Pretty name." He pulled out his box of plain white stationery.
*****
Dear Diane,
It was with great satisfaction and pleasure that I received your letter, and with some embarrassment that I read your comment on my photograph. I wore my dress uniform for the ceremony. Most days, I do not look like that.
Your modesty is refreshing, but I suspect false. I delivered Mr. Baxter's newspaper every day for years and did work around his property. He allowed me to see some of his models and his drawings of them when he invited me into his studio on Fridays to pay me. His drawings are quite faithful to his subject matter. I trust you are as beautiful as the artwork indicates.
It would be an honor to have you as a pen pal. Mail delivery to the base is fairly regular now, much better than it was a year ago. The tide of the war has turned. If it is God's plan, bravery will not be a problem much longer.
Soon it will be lights out, so I must close. Thank you for your letter.
Sincerely,
Tom Hamilton
*****
Tommy sealed it and put it under his pillow for safe-keeping. He would post the note in the morning. He took one more quick glance at the picture of Diane before darkness in the barracks.
*****
Dear Tom,
What name shall I use to refer to you? Uncle Ted called you Tommy, but you signed your letter Tom. I don't wish to upset you by using an incorrect name.
A virus bug is going around the local school, so Father and I are busy. We see patients as usual in the morning, but after a hurried lunch we go to the school and examine children the teachers feel may be falling ill. After that we have office hours until people stop coming by.
Uncle Ted said you shoot machine guns from an airplane. That sounds quite dangerous. The reports we get on the radio and in the newspaper say things are going well for the Allies. I do hope that means you and your friends will be safe soon.
Warm regards,
Diane
*****
"Safe?" Tommy mused. He re-read Diane's letter a few times and studied the drawing once again. He almost understood why a buffoon like Lefty or a ladies' man like Jimmy didn't think she was special. Diane's cheekbones were a bit high for some people's tastes, her blue eyes somewhat large. She seemed to have a modest-sized bosom and small hips. Her long, wavy blond hair and her legs were the features all the guys agreed on. In the drawing her hemline was lifted scandalously high, but her full petticoat preserved her modesty.
She was exquisite. Physically, she was all Tommy could imagine wanting in a woman. The British pub lasses were nice, but a little cheap for his tastes. He was one of the few men on base who didn't spend all his pay and leave time trying to get in their knickers.
Some nights he was tempted. It was anybody's guess if he'd make it back from the next mission, so why worry about the future? His buddies didn't. But Tommy was a quiet one, a good lad, and absolutely deadly when shooting at Nazi airplanes.
*****
Dear Diane,
Thomas is my real name, of course. I tried to get my family and friends to call me Tom when I got older, but Tommy stuck. You may use whichever name you prefer.
Being safe now will not keep the world safe. I shoot German planes down before they can shoot us or drop bombs on our Allies. You and your father expose yourselves to disease. Those activities are not safe, but they help to keep people safe.
When the war is over, I want to buy some land, build a house, and start a business. I shall be glad to return to civilian life.
Do you plan to work with your father until he retires?
Please continue to write me. I shall endeavor to answer you promptly.
Best regards,
Tommy
*****
The two exchanged letters on a regular basis for months. Tommy wrote several times a week, and Diane answered each one immediately. At times, they had two or three different letters and responses going at once, due to the slow travel of international mail.
Two weeks passed since Tommy's last letter. Diane waited for the postman every day. Today was no different. Nothing but things involving the doctor's work. She took the mail into the office. "Father?"
"Yes?"
"You were in the Army."
"Yes."
"What was war like?"
Dr. Miller looked up from the patient charts on his desk. "I prayed a lot."
"Were you afraid for your life?"
Dr. Miller took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "You're worried about that boy."
Diane blushed. "He seems very nice. Uncle Ted spoke quite highly of him. It's his second tour of duty."
"He must be brave. One tour of duty as a medic in the trenches was enough for me. When they let me come home, I did. I saw horrors I will never forget. The automobile accidents around here are nothing."
"Tommy is a belly gunner on a Flying Fortress."
"That's a big airplane. Much better than the fly boys had in my day. The belly gunner may be the most important man up there. He is the one who keeps the Messerschmidts off them so they can fly home."
"It sounds horribly dangerous."
"Sit down, Diane."
His daughter took the patient chair next to the desk.
"Dear, war is dangerous. In a way, airmen have it better than most. They don't die of gangrene in field hospitals or come home ruined by mustard gas. They either return in one piece or they don't at all. Your Tommy has only seven more missions to fly. Am I correct?"
"When he wrote his last letter it was seven. It should be five now. Father, I'm scared."
The doctor watched his only child blot a tear. The last time she did that in front of him was when her mother died nine years earlier. She took it hard, but by the time the funeral ended and the family left for the evening, she was changed. At twelve, she developed the mindset of a determined mature woman. Diane was one of the strongest people he knew. "You believe you're in love with him, don't you?"
"You must think I'm silly."
"Diane, the last thing I would ever call you is silly. You're a fine young woman and an excellent nurse. Since Mother passed, you're the only reason I keep my sanity. Everyone says you're the prettiest girl around here. Our patients love you. You are intelligent. You need to think."
"What if he doesn't come home?"
"I will not lie to you. He may not, but you can't change that, so there is no point in worrying about it. Instead, you should think about what may happen when he does come back. This young man is lonely now, thousands of miles from home, facing death. When he's back home, he'll be re-united with his family and his old friends. Things will be different for him."
"He hasn't written a word in any of his letters about the drawing Uncle Ted made."
"I suppose that means he's polite, Diane. I wouldn't want my daughter meeting him if he behaved inappropriately."
"Meeting him?"
"You intend to, don't you, regardless of what I say?" Dr. Miller chuckled.
*****
Dear Tommy,
