“Yes,” said Mrs. Fryt. “A war garden, that first summer after the boys left. The government had a campaign to get everyone to grow and preserve their own food, so that farmers’ produce could supply the Army. ‘Can vegetables, fruit, and the kaiser, too,’ was the slogan, as I remember, and Wilma took it to heart just like she did the knitting. Well, heaven knows, before the war, she’d never done a lick of work in her life. And all of a sudden, on top of all her other war work, she decided she’d tend to a half-acre plot!”

“It wasn’t that big,” Thelma said.

“It might as well have been,” Mrs. Fryt insisted. “But there was no telling her any different! She wanted to do her bit, same as those boys of hers.”

Chapter 16

THE MICKELSON HOUSE
502 W. First Street, Pine Rapids
Tuesday, June 12, 1917

Under the cloud-mottled sky of a pretty June evening, John walked home from work in the shade of the greening maple trees, thinking about his sons. Looks like we’re going to join up with one of the big Divisions, Chase had written recently, as the boys had neared the end of their eight-week training camp down at Parris Island, South Carolina. And sad to say we won’t get leave to come home.

So his boys were going to war, going “over there.” Sailing any day now, out of Philadelphia, in the first group of Americans to go over. Amazing how much of the world they were seeing: South Carolina, Philadelphia, and now on their way to France!

But Wilma! “You see, John!” she had cried, shaking one of the boys’ letters in his face. “Overseas! When Chasey should be graduating high school this week!”

Well, what did she expect him to do about it? Besides, he was proud of them for volunteering, proud of them for passing the strict physical requirements and getting into the elite Marine Corps. They say only one in ten fellows passes, Jack had written from the recruiting depot. Of course me and Chasey passed with flying colors. We enlisted for the duration.

“For the duration!” Wilma had exclaimed. “What does that mean?”

“For as long as it takes,” John explained, and got a withering look for his trouble, as she got up, slammed out of the room. She had not been herself since the boys had gone.

It was as if she blamed him, somehow, for their absence—for the entire war!