retreat.
If only I could be in the fighting, doing my part…
“Don’t you pay no mind to those headlines,” Marge said as she set a tall glass of milk on the counter. A golden burger, grease
and cheese dripping onto the plate, soon followed. “That sort of thing isn’t going to do much for your appetite. You mark
my words, we’ll win this war in short order.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am,” she said confidently. “It was American know-how that won the Great War, and that same knowhow will win this
one, by gum! We’ll make all the tanks, guns, planes, and ships we need and our boys will use them right. They’ll do what needs
to be done… just so long as they eat right.”
Cole chuckled. As if he had been ordered by an officer to storm a hilltop, he bit into his sandwich under Marge’s watchful
gaze. The burger was delicious, exactly as he remembered. A smile of satisfaction spread across her heavy face before he even
said a word.
“Still as good as you remember?” she asked expectantly.
“Better.”
As he ate, Cole told Marge all about college life, his studies, and about what it was like to live in Chicago, all of the
things about life in the big city he liked and disliked. She in turn told him of various bits of gossip he’d missed while
away. Occasionally, she would fill a coffee cup or take an order, but she always returned eager for more.
“And now you’re going to be a teacher over at the high school.” Marge smiled. “It’s hard to believe that the young boy who
sidled up here for a slice of apple pie every summer has grown up so fast! It just don’t seem possible!”
Cole chuckled. “I still love that pie.”
“Your father must be so proud!”
As if dark storm clouds had suddenly appeared in a clear autumn sky, Cole’s face changed. He had no idea what his father truly
thought of his return to Victory, but he doubted that pride in his son’s accomplishments played any part. It was almost certainly
the exact opposite. He was still what he’d always been to Robert Ambrose: an embarrassment.
“I think he’d be prouder if I was a bit more like Jason.”
“Don’t you say such things, darlin’,” Marge scolded him, her voice soothing at the same time. “Your father ain’t the sort
to go on judgin’ you two boys the same, no matter what you got yourself believin’. Just because your brother was the one out
runnin’ about and playin’ football and all, that don’t make him more special than you.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” the older woman cut him off. “Your father has every reason to be as proud of you as a peacock is of its feathers!
Why, it ain’t just anybody that’s smart enough to go off to college, to graduate and come home to teach those kids followin’
on behind. Heck, I’m bettin’ that if everybody had as many brains as you, this here world would be a heck of a lot better
off!”
“What I wish I could do is go off and join the fight,” Cole said bitterly as he slapped the newspaper with the back of his
hand. “I wish I could sign up for the army just like Jason did, but I guess with a leg like mine, the only thing I’m good
for is teaching.”
“You’ll do your part on the home front just like the rest of us will and no one will think you less for it,” Marge explained.
“Not your father and certainly not Jason. Your brother thinks the whole world of you and he knows you won’t be a soldier because
of a lack of heart.”
“I just want to do more.”
“You’ll do the very best you can, darlin’. There ain’t an ounce of shame in that.”
Cole opened his mouth to argue further but fell mute as the door to the diner opened and a young woman entered. She was dressed
simply in a dark blue skirt and white blouse with a small black purse hung over a thin wrist. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders.
With her high cheekbones, small nose, and full lips, her beauty was truly
If only I could be in the fighting, doing my part…
“Don’t you pay no mind to those headlines,” Marge said as she set a tall glass of milk on the counter. A golden burger, grease
and cheese dripping onto the plate, soon followed. “That sort of thing isn’t going to do much for your appetite. You mark
my words, we’ll win this war in short order.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am,” she said confidently. “It was American know-how that won the Great War, and that same knowhow will win this
one, by gum! We’ll make all the tanks, guns, planes, and ships we need and our boys will use them right. They’ll do what needs
to be done… just so long as they eat right.”
Cole chuckled. As if he had been ordered by an officer to storm a hilltop, he bit into his sandwich under Marge’s watchful
gaze. The burger was delicious, exactly as he remembered. A smile of satisfaction spread across her heavy face before he even
said a word.
“Still as good as you remember?” she asked expectantly.
“Better.”
As he ate, Cole told Marge all about college life, his studies, and about what it was like to live in Chicago, all of the
things about life in the big city he liked and disliked. She in turn told him of various bits of gossip he’d missed while
away. Occasionally, she would fill a coffee cup or take an order, but she always returned eager for more.
“And now you’re going to be a teacher over at the high school.” Marge smiled. “It’s hard to believe that the young boy who
sidled up here for a slice of apple pie every summer has grown up so fast! It just don’t seem possible!”
Cole chuckled. “I still love that pie.”
“Your father must be so proud!”
As if dark storm clouds had suddenly appeared in a clear autumn sky, Cole’s face changed. He had no idea what his father truly
thought of his return to Victory, but he doubted that pride in his son’s accomplishments played any part. It was almost certainly
the exact opposite. He was still what he’d always been to Robert Ambrose: an embarrassment.
“I think he’d be prouder if I was a bit more like Jason.”
“Don’t you say such things, darlin’,” Marge scolded him, her voice soothing at the same time. “Your father ain’t the sort
to go on judgin’ you two boys the same, no matter what you got yourself believin’. Just because your brother was the one out
runnin’ about and playin’ football and all, that don’t make him more special than you.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” the older woman cut him off. “Your father has every reason to be as proud of you as a peacock is of its feathers!
Why, it ain’t just anybody that’s smart enough to go off to college, to graduate and come home to teach those kids followin’
on behind. Heck, I’m bettin’ that if everybody had as many brains as you, this here world would be a heck of a lot better
off!”
“What I wish I could do is go off and join the fight,” Cole said bitterly as he slapped the newspaper with the back of his
hand. “I wish I could sign up for the army just like Jason did, but I guess with a leg like mine, the only thing I’m good
for is teaching.”
“You’ll do your part on the home front just like the rest of us will and no one will think you less for it,” Marge explained.
“Not your father and certainly not Jason. Your brother thinks the whole world of you and he knows you won’t be a soldier because
of a lack of heart.”
“I just want to do more.”
“You’ll do the very best you can, darlin’. There ain’t an ounce of shame in that.”
Cole opened his mouth to argue further but fell mute as the door to the diner opened and a young woman entered. She was dressed
simply in a dark blue skirt and white blouse with a small black purse hung over a thin wrist. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders.
With her high cheekbones, small nose, and full lips, her beauty was truly
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