“Underneath the lantern,
By the barrack gate
Darling I remember” Private Blythe hummed incredulously as he slid into the driver’s seat of the M3 Scout Car General Clark personally reserved for the transportation of Marlene Dietrich while she dedicated herself to supporting troop morale with performances across Italy. Tasked with providing an engine tune-up, oil change, and delivering the vehicle to her attaché at the requisitioned Hassler-Villa Medici, he wondered if he’d see her.
As part of the 2630th Transportation Corps Motor Transport Battalion for the Penisular Base Section, he arrived to its organization, completion of support for Operation Torch, and its landing in Salerno. His battalion had rehabilitated the roads now taking him to the Spanish Steps looked upon by the Hassler-Villa Medici. Outside the hotel stood two women and a senior officer. Private Blythe parked in front of them and saluted the Air Force Lieutenant General. The women quickly stepped forward. The more mature of the two, both in plainclothes, commanded “I expect to be saluted as well private or I will have you court-martialed for insubordination.”
Blythe guffawed, “Ma’am?”
To which she promptly flashed her captain credentials.
Shaken, embarrassed, and scarleting, he murmured an apology as the younger woman, equally crimsoned cried out in laughter, “Mom don’t torture the poor sop.”
Smiling in turn, she offered her hand and said, “I am Marlene. This is my daughter Maria. We were only having a bit of fun to see if it would evoke a smile from Lieutenant General Cannon who has been quite stern in our company.”
All looked at Cannon whose attention followed the approach of Captain Rosenthal.
Rosenthal handed the Lieutenant General two messages. “You have served with distinction Captain. Do not disappoint me in your prosecutorial duties. Continue with your orders to see Captain Dietrich and her daughter to Camp Darby in Leghorn. “
Turning, “Blythe.” He continued, “You will join a ‘Deuce and a Half’ tomorrow at 0:500 en route for the 442nd Regimented Combat Team’s demobilization.” Reaching into his pocket, “Tonight, this social calling card will get you quartered. Keep it clean. It will also gain you entrance to the Officers’ Club Rome. Do not overstay your welcome or embarrass me.”
He bowed, “Ladies.” and proceeded to his expected duties.
Marlene swiftly moved to give Rosie, Captain Rosenthal, a hero’s welcome, but he winced a bit “Still tender?”
“It is nothing,” he replied. “Private, you are in for a rough ride tomorrow. Not only that but you will need to find your way to the fuel supply depot at the intersection of the Via Salaria and Via Flaminia. Cannon’s card will instruct a motor pool officer to drive you there in a Willys.”
“Yes, sir. I understand my duty to keep the rig steady,” Billy responded.
Smiling broadly between the tousles of her strawberry blonde hair being neatly tucked behind her ears, Marlene asked “Are we really in such a hurry? Couldn’t we drop him there as we get underway? I’ve just arrived back in Rome. I want to introduce my daughter to the city. Besides a drink or two and a nice meal might soften the ride north for us all.”
Smiling broadly between the tousles of her strawberry blonde hair being neatly tucked behind her ears, Marlene asked “Are we really in such a hurry? Couldn’t we drop him there as we get underway? I’ve just arrived back in Rome. I want to introduce my daughter to the city. Besides a drink or two and a nice meal might soften the ride north for us all.”
With empathic precision, Maria prayerfully grabbed Billy’s hand to plead “The war has spared no one” as the perfumed aroma from her loosened chiffon bound the new companions in memories of silent gardens.
In response, Rosie stoically misted discontentment for the B17 crew he piloted to their deaths from enemy fire over Germany. His eyes abruptly met Billy’s to acknowledge war’s equality. “You are in for a treat tonight my friend. The fillets, desserts, drinks, and entertainment are rarely surpassed. First Lieutenant Fred Seymour supervises the Billeting Office in room 101. I will introduce you.”
“Will there be pen and paper in the room for a letter to my wife?” Billy peccantly asked.
Marlene and Maria tittered the boff.
“Hotel stationary is everywhere. Finish your letter before orders and I will have it airmailed. You two better have honed afternoon itinerary”
“Thank You”
“It is only a few stops” Marlene sarcastically protested. “It begins in the mess hall. Meet us there.”
“Shall we get underway?”
Billy, as everyone called him, felt the pressures of family and his new wife to return home, but his role in combat service support had provided thrilling low risk adventures and novelty he did not want to end.
Fearing word of his womanizing would get back to Velma, Floyd would book his sons’ band identifying as Dalton. With the war ending, demand for musical performers for holiday events paused for it surged and their AM radio notoriety did not go unnoticed. Hot Springs offered to make them the headliner for its Christmas season dance, so Floyd, without hesitation, made quick agreement in anticipation of escaping the river by managing their music career.
Vee believed she had married a sweet boy who had been assigned to the motor pool. Without documented children and combat experience, the points he had otherwise accumulated for service time and overseas duties were not enough to qualify him for his magic carpet ride until the holiday. Her nursing duties had made it clear, however, that the war left scars upon all who returned from it. Would Billy be the same?
“Howie, it looks like Dad has found another Linda,” Harry chuckled.
“A Linda?” Howie responded.
“Yes. Just a nice young woman who needs quick help to fix everything.” Harry continued with a grin.