FALLING STARS
Chapter Twenty-Three
June 7, 1944
The United States entered World War II in
December of 1941, following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. The two eldest
Dawson sons, Gregory and Adam, volunteered for the military, but Gregory was
rejected because of a previously undetected heart murmur. The murmur didn’t
threaten his life, but it did keep him out of the military. Adam, however, was
accepted, as was Libby’s husband, Harold. Nathan Hockley, Jr., was drafted, but
wound up being stationed in the United States, out of harm’s way. Andrew Dawson
wanted to volunteer, but at age twelve, was much too young.
Jack and Rose worried about their son, who
was fighting in Europe, as his father had some twenty-five years earlier. He
sent them letters regularly, however, so they knew he was alive and well. It
didn’t stop their worries, but they were relieved that he was staying alive.
Harold was in the same area, although in a different group.
On the afternoon of June 7, 1944, Rose was
standing in front of the stove, cooking dinner. Jack was working at the art
gallery, and Heidi, home from college for the summer, was somewhere in town
with her friends. Andrew was playing baseball with some other neighborhood kids
in an open lot a few blocks away.
Rose sighed, wiping at her brow. The summer
heat was getting to her, as it never had in the past. It was a warm day, and
humid, and that, combined with the heat of the kitchen, was enough to make her
feel a bit faint. She considered the idea of walking down to the market for
something for dinner, then rejected the idea. She didn’t feel like she had the
energy for a long walk. If she knew where Heidi was, she could call her and ask
her to stop by the market, but she wasn’t sure where her daughter had gone.
Rose put the lid on the pan and walked out of
the kitchen for a moment, seeking the slightly cooler environs of the living
room. She turned on the radio, hoping the music would soothe her somewhat.
Sitting down in one of the chairs, she put her feet up.
She didn’t know why the heat was bothering
her so much. There had been hot days before, and she had never found them quite
so bothersome, but today she was feeling faint and slightly nauseous. Rose put
her head back against the chair, trying to relax. Maybe she was just growing
old. She was forty-nine now, after all.
Rose shook her head. It didn’t make sense
that her age would be bothering her. Her mother was now seventy-four, and found
the summers no worse than she had when Rose was growing up. Rose herself had no
trouble with the heat prior to this summer, but this heat wave was making her
miserable. Maybe, she thought, she was finally going through the change of
life. It was to be expected at her age.
She got up, returning to the kitchen. Taking
the pan off the stove, she dumped the contents into a bowl and set them in the
refrigerator to cool. Jack would be home soon, and he would appreciate a cold
dinner in this weather.
Rose had just set the bowl in the
refrigerator when someone rang the doorbell. Closing the refrigerator door, she
went to see who it was.
A man in military uniform stood at the door.
He looked at her regretfully and handed her a telegram.
Rose scanned it, her eyes widening in
horrified disbelief as she read the words. Adam was dead, killed the day before
in Normandy. Her son, not yet twenty-one years old, was gone, taken in battle
like so many other good men.
The room seemed to spin around her, the
faintness she had felt earlier returning full force. She gripped the doorjamb
for support, her mind whirling. She had to call Jack...call the other
children...call her mother...
"Ma’am? Are you okay?" the young
man at her door asked her.
Rose nodded, trying to reassure him, and
crumpled to the floor.
*****
Rose awoke to find herself lying on the
couch, a sobbing Heidi sitting beside her. Rose looked up at her, briefly
forgetting what had happened.
An instant later, when she remembered, the
pain came rushing back. Her son was dead. Her little boy, who she had rocked in
her arms as an infant, was gone. She had never expected to outlive one of her
children, but she had.
Rose sat up, swinging her legs over the edge
of the couch. She had to call Jack, had to tell him what had happened. She
started to stand up, but stopped, surprised, as dizziness washed over her
again. Heidi pushed her back down.
"Stay still, Mom. I already called Dad.
He’s on his way home. I called Gregory and Emily, too. I tried to call Nancy,
but she wasn’t home. Andrew is still out with his friends."
Jack arrived home a few minutes later. He
looked stunned, as though he couldn’t quite believe what his daughter had told
him. Rose was sitting up on the couch, sipping at a glass of cool water, her
eyes red from crying. He had come across Andrew on his way home, and had
brought him back with him. The fifteen-year-old looked to be in shock.
"Jack." Rose gave the glass back to
Heidi and got up, running to Jack and holding on for dear life. "He’s
gone. Adam’s gone."
Jack held her tight. "I know. I know. I
couldn’t believe it when Heidi called with the news. He’d been over there for
more than two years, and suddenly this happens."
"I hate this war. Why did it have to
happen? Why did we have to lose our son?"
"I don’t know, Rose. I just don’t
know."
They were interrupted by the sound of the
phone ringing. Heidi ran to answer it, coming back a moment later to get her
parents.
"Mom, Dad, it’s Libby. She sounds
upset...maybe she’s heard."
Rose went into the kitchen and picked up the
phone, followed closely by Jack. "Hello?"
"Mom?" Libby was crying so hard
that Rose could barely make out her words. "I just got a telegram.
Harold...Harold was killed yesterday, in France."
"Oh, my God." Rose reeled in shock.
First Adam, now Harold. How many tragedies would they have to face because of
this war?
Jack took the phone from Rose. "Libby?
What happened?"
Libby gave him the same news that she had
given her mother, trying to calm down. Then, Jack had to give her the bad news
about her younger brother.
"Libby, I’m afraid we have some bad
news. Your brother Adam was also killed in France."
Rose could hear Libby’s shocked cry from
where she stood at the counter, looking out the window. Jack handed the phone
to her and walked away before he broke down.
"Libby?" Rose tried to soothe her
daughter. "Would you like to come to Philadelphia for a while? I think it
might be easier if...if the whole family was together." She started crying
again.
"I’ll...I’ll be there as soon as I can,
Mom. I’ll get the next train there."
"All right, darling. We’ll...we’ll see
you then. Please hurry."
"I will, Mom."
They hung up, and Rose rested her forehead
against her hand for a moment before making another attempt to call Nancy.