Ernie Pyle’s much-anticipated article about the reality of all that had happened just six days ago on the beaches of France. D-Day, they were calling it. The scant news about it had suggested that it was a horrific battle.

Had William and Tom been there? William’s letters had suggested that they were getting ready to leave Chilton Foliat. But he could not tell her where they were going. He had a perfect record, so far, for not getting redacted.

She paid a dime to the shop owner and tucked the newspaper under her arm. She had to find somewhere to read it where she could be alone.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Tom’s dreams were never of the fantastical nature that his friends at school experienced. He was amused by their retellings of elephants on ice skates or arriving to class stark naked. He wished his mind could wander to such entertaining places, but his dreams merely recalled events that had already happened.

Sometimes he got to relive a particularly happy birthday or the simple pleasures of catching lightning bugs as the sun descended over the river’s waters. And other times—like now—they brought back memories in the vivid, painful color that he would have preferred to forget entirely.

This was one such moment, and Tom would have earned and then given away a fortune just to banish these thoughts forever.

The morphine made the dreams longer. Realer. Sadder.

And yet, the morphine dulled the present day’s physical pain. So it was a toss-up.

Hurt in your sleep. Or hurt while awake.

Both were agony.

The choice was not his to make, though. The nurses made it for him, quelling the sweats and yelling that emerged from his mouth and blended with the screams of the other men in the makeshift field hospital.

And so, he slept.

*  *  *

“What are you going to miss most?” William had asked Tom as they cleaned their rifles after a rigorous day on the range. Dick Winters seemed especially focused on honing their shooting skills, and an air of anticipation hovered over the men.

The battle would begin any day now.

“Mrs. Brown’s Yorkshire pudding. I’m not sure even my mother can put it together quite like she does.”

“Yeah. I’ll miss everything about that old couple. When I get home, I want to send them something nice.”

“I’ll add to that,” said Tom. “We’re both Virginia boys. Maybe some salted ham. And some peanuts. And peach jam.”

William licked his lips. “Oh, I wish I could see their faces when that package arrives.”

“We should come back over and hand-deliver them.”

“Nah, not me.” William shook his head. “Once I set foot on American soil, I’m never leaving again. I’ve seen all I want to of this continent.”