“If a plane did get shot down,” said Cindy. “Maybe none of it’s true.”
Peggy had her tea napkin to her eyes. “I just know it’s Keith they’re talking about,” she sobbed. “That must be the Cushing up there under the ice. I’m scared. Maybe the Russians will attack her for shooting at their airplane. Maybe I’ll never see Keith again!”
“Remember what Rich said to tell you before he and Buck got underway,” said Laura swiftly. “He said to keep your faith in the Navy. Remember?” She squeezed Peggy’s shoulder as she spoke.
“That’s easy for you to say, Laura,” said Peggy, her face working. She looked belligerently at her. “Keep your faith in the Navy, Rich says! What faith?”
“The faith all of us have.”
“I have faith, all right! That’s all I’ve got! I’ve got faith that the Navy will never back its people up in a tough spot! It will always look out for itself, all right, and the trade-school boys will look out for themselves. They always put people like Keith in the most danger, and then they go off and leave them to face it alone! Faith in the Navy? Faith in nothing! That’s a laugh!” Peggy’s voice had risen. Her overwrought emotions boiled over. She almost shouted the last few words.
“You’re upset, Peggy, and that’s not surprising. But what you’re saying isn’t fair, and it’s just not true.” Laura spoke quietly, though it took an effort. She wanted to shake her, shout some sense into her. But Peggy was not rational. The thing to do was to calm her. “Do you think the Navy will simply abandon a brand-new and very valuable ship, and its crew of a hundred and twenty-five men? That doesn’t make any sense! It’s never been done. Not in our whole history. It’s contrary to naval tradition, too.”
“Well, why don’t they do something, then? Why don’t they tell me something?”
“Peggy, they can’t. If the Navy makes any sort of announcement, even privately to only a few people, that’s practically the same as telling the Russians too. If things are as bad as you fear, do you think that sort of thing will help Keith?”
“They’ve not helped me much!” There were both a whine and a snarl in Peggy’s voice. “I told you I can’t stand it anymore! The Navy’s never done anything except make me miserable!”
Cindy said, “You’ve got to think of it from Keith’s point of view, too, Peggy. What he thinks must mean something to you.”
Laura said, “Keith has put his trust in the Navy, Peggy. If he could, he’d tell you so right now.”
“No, he wouldn’t! I wouldn’t let him! I hate the Navy! Even when he’s home I hate it, because he’s never there long. He’s always planning that next trip, and it wasn’t any better when he was on duty in Washington. He was in the Pentagon all day and all night too. I counted his hours; some weeks he was in the Pentagon for eighty hours and even ninety hours. It’s just not fair!” The cocktail napkin was twisted into a sodden ball, clenched in her hand. She waved it wildly as she spoke.
“It’s true the Navy asks more of its conscientious people, like Keith,” said Laura. “But that’s why he’s had such important assignments. Rich says he’s a couple of years ahead of his contemporaries right now. The Navy asks more of him because he’s one of the best officers it’s got.”
“That’s so! The Navy’s using him for a patsy. It always has. I know. I’ve seen it too many times!”
“Is that why he’s got the best and newest ship in the Navy, right now?”
“That’s why they’ve sent him out on this dangerous mission. It’s obvious! That’s why!”
“Peggy,” Laura said as calmly as she could, although she could feel herself tensing and knew she could not keep her rising reaction totally under control, “both Rich and I have been trying to convince you that’s not true. This assignment he’s on now, whatever it is, is due to his reputation as one of the best skippers in the Navy. It’s an honor for him.”
Laura’s arm was still draped over the back of the sofa, not quite touching Peggy. Nevertheless, Peggy peevishly brushed it away. “No kidding!” The sarcasm in her voice was heavy. “They always send Keith off on the big risks! Don’t tell me they don’t! And I know why they pick him. Send one of our boys on those tough jobs? Oh, no! Send Keith Leone. He’s not one of ours. He doesn’t count.”
Laura could see Cindy’s eyes narrow, then widen. Perhaps she had not heard this portion of the litany of complaints. “Don’t be silly,” Laura said, still in the quiet tone. She was about to go on, say something more, but Peggy continued talking.
“You, of all people, ought to know what I’m talking about, Laura! Your first husband didn’t go through the trade school either, did he?” Peggy accentuated the words “trade school.” “Have you ever thought about that?”
“Nobody cared where Jim Bledsoe’s diploma came from! He was one of the best sub skippers we had!” Laura spoke sharply, with anger. She herself was surprised at the way her words came out. The mention of Jim had caught her unawares. She had not spoken of him for years, rarely thought of him these days. The memories flooded in on her. It was the first of the war years, and they had been married only five days, during which Jim worked fourteen hours a day on board the new Walrus, getting her ready for the trip to the Pacific from which neither returned. It was not long enough to build a marriage, although she had tried her amateurish, insufficient best.
The hurt came slowly, the days in succession dawning with hope, passing with a slight deepening of the growing disappointment. She wrote two long letters a week, setting aside the time necessary to do so even when the long silences and sparse replies made continued cheerfulness a misery. Jim was at war. His ship was at sea, fighting. He rarely was in port long enough to answer letters. Then came the day when she met Cynthia Schultz, wife of the ship’s engineer, happily carrying a handbag full of thick envelopes — when she had only two thin ones. The worst was when Jim took the Walrus to Australia, where he was lionized as a brilliant combat submariner. His exploits, camouflaged and censored though they were, filled the news. Friends called to congratulate her, strangers spoke of the pride she must feel, and she had been forced to smile gratefully through her shame, for there were no letters at all in her purse. Once, a mortifying memory, she had pretended in a desperate moment that a letter from someone else was from Jim.
But that was all long ago. Now, every time she thought of Jim, a deeper understanding drifted into her consciousness. Perhaps their marriage might have survived, might even have been good had it not faced the insuperable handicap of the war, and what war did to people. She was even able to recall without squirming the intimate, demeaning little artifices she had employed in some of her letters — how pathetic, how much in the realm of fantasy, yet all she had to work with, for the memories were so few — and how hopeless she felt when his short replies showed none of the spark she was trying so anxiously to keep alive. She knew, now, that her own inadequacies as a young war bride, for which she had blamed herself in the beginning, were not at fault. Neither was Jim’s neglectful correspondence, nor his infidelities with Joan and with others. These she had managed to understand even at the time, even with the hurt she then felt. She had not blamed Joan. Joan, too, was a child of the war and, like any of the men, had her own private needs. But it was terribly painful, all the same, and there were days when she could hardly face the thought of yet another of the same empty nature. Finally, it was Rich, who came to seek her out after it was all over, who restored her self-respect, and (it seemed at the time) her sanity. She had been astonished how quickly the world turned right again and over the years had learned why that had been inevitable.