Once they were seated, Clara pulled out some dry toast wrapped in waxed paper. “Chew it slowly,” she instructed.
The air moved through him like magic.
“Is this your first time on a ship?”
He nodded. “You?”
“No. I’ve been to England and France.”
“Really?” Ozzie swallowed the bread. “What’d you do over there?”
“I served with the Six Triple Eight Central Postal Directory Battalion. Our mission was to clear a two-year backlog of mail for American soldiers stationed in Europe.”
“Ah, I read about you ladies inThe Philadelphia Tribune.”
“Really?” She beamed.
“Lucky me.” He put his hand over his heart. “A Women’s Army Corps handpicked by Mary McLeod Bethune has nursed me back to health.”
Clara smiled even brighter. “So you do know about us.”
“Sure do,” he said. Leaning back on his elbows, Ozzie asked, “What was the hardest part for you?”
Clara looked up at the sky. “The work conditions were awful. The warehouse where we sorted was often unheated and the lighting poor. But I’d say the worst was returning mail addressed to soldiers killed in the line of duty. No one ever wanted that job.”
“How long were you stationed out there?”
“I left home in January ’45 and returned in spring ’46. When I got back, I enrolled in nursing school. Now I’m returning to Europe as a WAC nurse.”
Ozzie stretched his legs in front of him. “All I keep thinking about is all those white people in one place.”
“They are far nicer than the ones on this ship. Trust me.”
“I just really want a job that makes a difference,” Ozzie confessed.
“What is it that you want to do?”
“Intelligence. Gotta brain for strategy and logic.”
Clara looked him over. He saw something in her eyes that suggested she knew something he didn’t. “Just be careful. There is a lot of freedom in Europe, but don’t forget who you are.”
When the ship arrived in Bremerhaven, Germany, Ozzie had been at sea for eighteen long days. It took over two hours to disembark allthe soldiers with their possessions. He had lost sight of Clara in the shuffle and regretted that he hadn’t said a proper goodbye.
“Man, I have never felt so happy to feel solid ground.” Morgan stomped his feet.
“I could kiss the cement,” replied Thornton.
Ozzie shoved his bag over his shoulder. Already he missed Rita, despite their breakup, and the familiar rhythms of his life in South Philly. “I just hope the journey was worth it.”
“Shiiit. I come from the Mississippi Delta, and anything here is better than being down there,” Thornton said matter-of-factly.
It was dark out, and a salty breeze gently whipped at the back of Ozzie’s neck. His uniform felt soggy and was in desperate need of a wash.
Sergeant Marshall walked several paces in front of the men, then turned to face them, calling, “Fall in!”
The thirty-three men in Ozzie’s platoon took their place in the accountability formation, lined up by squad, facing Sergeant Marshall and waiting for his next order.
“Parade!” shouted Sergeant Marshall. “Rest!” The platoon snapped from the position of attention to listen to their platoon sergeant’s orders.
