The wide aisles held all the American staples and brands that families were accustomed to purchasing. As she placed cereal, bread, butter, and milk in her shopping cart, Ethel found herself tracking the total cost of the items in her head. Bert’s paycheck hadn’t changed, but they now had four additional mouths to feed, and though Heinz was a bony boy, he ate like he was squirreling away food in his belly for a hungry day.
She picked up a package of egg noodles and then rolled her cart back to the butcher in the far corner of the store. After securing two pounds of chuck beef, she’d stop by the produce section for onions, mushrooms, and garlic. While she waited her turn behind three well-dressed women, her mother’s beef Stroganoff recipe flitted through her head. Ethel’s mother had raised seven kids alone after the death of her husband, and she was the queen of a good hearty casserole. Ethel knew that Stroganoff was a meal she could stretch over two to three days, made new with a side soup or green salad.
“Ethel.” Dorothy strolled toward the butcher’s line. “Funny running into you here. Do you usually do your shopping on Tuesdays?”
“Thursdays, actually, but lately I’ve had to make some adjustments.”
Dorothy stretched her red lips into a smile. “Well, you know good news travels. Congratulations, I hear you’ve adopted two children. A boy and a girl?”
“Four, actually.” Ethel tilted her head.
Dorothy’s gloved hand patted her heart. “From the orphanage you were telling us about?”
“Yes, and they have been a gift. All four are adjusting well.”
After they exchanged polite small talk about Dorothy’s summer vacation and Ethel’s children learning English, Dorothy said, “I was able to secure additional care packages for the German mothers on our list this month.”
The air around the butcher smelled metallic. Ethel pushed her cart up. “Perfect, I’m sure it will help get the women over the summer hump.”
“I still have the last list you gave me, but if there are more in need, please let me know. I can’t sleep thinking that any child would go to bed hungry.”
“I was just at the orphanage, and there is a need for shoes, all sizes. Maybe we can add a back-to-school drive to the end-of-summer picnic. We can have a station where people can drop off gently used shoes.”
“My children certainly have some laying around. That’s a great idea, and I’ll be sure to add it to our next meeting’s agenda. Don’t forget, our next theme is simply red, white, and blue.”
They parted ways and Ethel hurried home. When she turned the key in the lock to their apartment, the girls came running toward her and hugged her like she had been away for a month. Ethel dropped to her knees and kissed them each on the forehead. “Hey, sweet girls, Mommy’s home.”
CHAPTER 17Mannheim, Germany, January 1949
OZZIE
The year started off wet and cold. For the entire week, Ozzie had been assigned the deuce-and-a-half truck with the broken heater. It didn’t matter how he layered his clothing, Ozzie never felt warm, and by Friday afternoon he was coming down with a cold.
On his last deliveries for the week, Satchel sat in the passenger seat with a blanket over his lap and a harmonica pressed to his lips. Ozzie felt a comfort come over him when he heard Satchel play. Ozzie’s mother had sung whenever the mood hit, so Satchel’s whiny harmonica reminded Ozzie of home, and a longing curled in his belly for that lima bean soup that always seemed to be simmering on the stove during the winter.
Six months had passed since he’d left home, and he missed his tiny one-way street with kids playing hopscotch and dribbling the basketball at all hours. He wanted his mother’s fried chicken and potato salad and the banter of neighbors crowded together in the living room and kitchen, listening to Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong on the nights she threw rent parties. From Rita, he had received a one-page letter at Thanksgiving and a glossy Christmas card with an“xoxo.” Even though he had tried not to think about her, he missed Rita too. The honeysuckle smell of her and the way she tilted her head when she giggled at his jokes.
Ozzie’s truck rolled past a line of pale-faced women with their lips painted and hair curled, waiting just outside the gates. They stomped their feet and paced to keep warm as they waited on their American sweethearts to bring them money and sneak rations so they could feed their families.
When Ozzie stopped behind another service vehicle waiting for clearance, he was surprised to spot Jelka among the women, smoking a cigarette. Ozzie and Jelka had been keeping company for four months, and not once had she ever come to the base looking for him on payday like the others.
Their eyes met. Ozzie killed the engine. “I’ll be right back,” he told Satchel. He walked toward Jelka, feeling unclean. He had avoided seeing her in his work uniform, which was covered in dirt and soot.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hallo.” She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with her foot. Then she kissed him on the cheek.
“What are you doing standing out here in the cold?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m still on the clock,” he said, looking around to see who might be watching. Ozzie couldn’t risk returning late. Being late was a serious offense, and he didn’t want his CO to see him dallying at the gate and revoke his weekend privileges. “Can it wait until tonight? I can come by the club this evening, once I’m off.”
“Sure. It will wait.” She stood and touched her hand to his face, and he could see worry swimming in her big dark eyes before she turned and walked away.
“What was that about?” Satchel asked once Ozzie climbed back into the truck.
“No idea. You know women.”
