PROLOGUE
Bellamy
Portsmouth Naval Prison, March, 1943…
Twenty-four hours. 1440 minutes. 86,400 seconds. A short period of time, no doubt, but to Bellamy Blackwell, these were going to be the longest hours, minutes, and seconds of his life. To be honest, ever since he was detained and arrested by the Master-at-Armsallthe moments in Bellamy’s life had felt surreal, never-ending, and just plain wrong.
Being arrested for liberty violations; drunkenness, public misconduct, and profanity, had been the lowest point in Bellamy’s short career in the United States Navy, at least to that moment. He’d joined up in January of 1942 after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor killed his older brother, Bridges, and he had quickly found himself thrown into bootcamp at Naval Station Norfolk in southern Virginia.
Bellamy had big shoes to fill. Bridges had joined the Navy straight out of high school in 1940. The entire family had been so proud that Bridges would continue the family tradition of serving in the United Stated Armed Forces. Their father, Bennington—Benny to his friends— had served during World War I in France. He’d come home with damaged lungs thanks to a mustard gas attack, but lived to a ripe old age. His grandfather, Branch, had fought alongside Black Jack Pershing in the Spanish American War, while his great-grandfather, Brighton, served in the 6thMaryland infantry regiment during the Civil War.
Four generations of Blackwells had served the United States with honor. All it had taken to ruin his family’s reputation and his own career was one night on the town, too much JackDaniels, and an MP who had been gunning for Bellamy from day one. At least that’s what he’d told himself late at night when he couldn’t sleep.
The real truth of the matter was that he’d been scared shitless at the thought of shipping out. There had been no official word prior to his arrest as to where Bellamy’s ship, USSTexas, would be sent, but rumor had it, they would be stationed in the Atlantic as a convoy escort, making sure troops and valuable supplies made it safely to England.
Bellamy had gone out for one last night on the town. Dressed in his navy whites, he hit the bars with several friends. They’d laughed, drank, and listened to war stories from other soldiers who were home on leave. Just as Bellamy’s group had been about to leave, a group of four Marines walked into the bar. One of the men elbowed Bellamy in the side. Ordinarily, Bellamy would have brushed off the incident, but he’d been liquored up and scared to death. He’d thrown the first punch and the brawl was on. When it was broken up by the MPs, Bellamy’s friends were gone and he was cuffed and brought to the Naval Consolidated Brig in Chesapeake, Virginia.
The USSTexasleft port as scheduled the next morning while Bellamy sat in jail. He’d been allowed to call his parents back in Baltimore, who were given the task of informing Bellamy’s fiancée, Magnolia Anne, that instead of shipping out with the rest of the fleet, he was sitting in a Virginia brig.
Bellamy’s court martial took place a week later. His parents and Magnolia Anne were in attendance. He’d been allowed a brief hug with all three before the trial began. Bellamy had been hopeful for a favorable outcome. It seemed like his lawyer was making a better case than the prosecution, that was until the affidavits from Bellamy’s friends were read aloud in open court.Before the USSTexashad cast off, all three men who’d gone out with Bellamy that fateful night had given sworn testimony. It wasn’t their detailed descriptions about the fight that sank his metaphorical battleship, but that all three men mentioned Bellamynotwanting to ship out and asking what the penalty was for going AWOL. He’d been drunk and kidding around, but the court didn’t see it that way.
The jury had come back with a guilty verdict in what felt like ten minutes. Sentence was quickly passed. Bellamy had been sentenced to serve one year at the Portsmouth Naval Prison. Bellamy had been thankful he’d be serving his time in Virginia. He’d be closer to Magnolia Anne and his parents. It wasn’t until he was loaded on the prisoner transport that he learned that the Portsmouth he was headed for was located in New Hampshire,notVirginia.
Growing up in Maryland and attending bootcamp in Virgina had in no way, shape, or form, prepared him for the harshness of a New England winter. The prison was located on an island in Portsmouth Harbor and there was no bridge connecting it to the mainland. Bellamy’s first real taste of the weather was being ferried across the choppy waves to the dock in front of the prison. Gales of wind felt like they were ripping the skin from his face, while tiny ice pellets felt sharp enough to draw blood.
Within twenty minutes of his arrival, Bellamy had been strip-searched, deloused, and issued blue jeans and a blue chambray work shirt. The moment the bars of his cell slammed shut, Bellamy felt hopeless. He knew all he could do was get through this year and Magnolia Anne would be waiting for him on the other side.
Now, there was one day left to go until Bellamy would be free. He couldn’t wait to reunite with his parents and fiancée and to put this ugly part of his history behind him.
Bellamy sat in his cell waiting for the door to open for morning rec time. For once, he was anxious to get outside into the cold New Hampshire weather. Today would be the last day he’d be subjected to sub-zero temperatures, nor’easters, and snow so deep, it came up to his knees.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said from down the cellblock, as the doors to the row of cells slid open.
Getting quickly to his feet, Bellamy finger combed his hair and stood at attention. He knew the voice belonged to none other than Warden Donald Benedict. Two guards flanked his sides. Never having to see this man again after today was another thing Bellamy was looking forward to. “Good morning, warden.”
“Rumor has it you are scheduled to depart the prison on the first ferry back to the mainland tomorrow morning.” Benedict’s smirk narrowed his blue, bloodshot eyes to slits. His bleach blonde toupee was several shades lighter than the dirty blond hair left at the back of his head. The warden’s pockmarked skin was a strange shade of orange, reminding him of the time Bridges dressed as a woman for Halloween and had used up all of their mother’s foundation cream.
“Yes, sir,” Bellemy replied, using all of his self-control to keep from breaking into a smile of his own. His freedom was so close and the warden was known for being a hardass, especially when an inmate’s time was nearly served. He couldn’t afford to slip up on the one-yard line.
“I hope your time here has taught you a valuable lesson. If not, the dishonorable discharge from the United States Navywill. Good luck finding a job with that mark on your-” Benedict paused. “What is that?” He pointed a fat, gnarled finger at the wall beside Bellamy’s bunk where six pictures of Magnolia Anne were taped.
“That’s my fiancée,” Bellamy said, feeling like he was standing on quick sand.
“Those photographs are contraband.” The warden shoved Bellamy aside and strode into the cell. He viciously ripped the images of Magnolia Anne from the wall and began to tear them into strips.
Bellamy watched Benedict’s gleeful display silently. He didn’t move a muscle. It didn’t matter if the warden tore up the photographs. He’d be back with his family and Magnolia Anne in two days.
As Benedict tore the photos he let the scraps float to the floor, piling up like snowflakes. “That takes care of that.” The warden smiled, his yellowed teeth on full display. “For the infraction of having six pieces of contraband in your cell, I’m giving you six additional months here.”
“What?” Bellamy roared. His head spun. The warden couldn’t give him six more months, when his freedom was less than twenty-four hours away.
Benedict laughed. The warden looked to be enjoying every moment of Bellamy’s pain. “That’s one month in the hole for yelling. Would you like to go for two?”
From the corner of Bellamy’s eye, he could see the other inmates begin to gather around. His best friend, Max, who’d been sent to the naval prison for attacking a superior officer stood behind the two prison guards. He grinned at Bellamy and dropped a wink.
In that moment, Bellamy had a choice to make. Shut his mouth and do the additional six months or fight back against a man who held his entire future in his fat hands. He took a deep breath and walked back into his cell, intent on picking up the torn pieces of the lost photographs.
“That’s a good little sailor,” Benedict said, his tone full of disgust. “Don’t you worry about Magnolia Anne. I got a letter from her just the other day. She’s found someone else. A Navy man who is proudly serving his country, rather than a prison sentence.”
