don’t want you to go,” she said.
“You know I have to,” he told her. “Besides, the war really is almost over. I’ll be home before you know it.”
Tears were falling down her cheeks. All she could think of was the possibility of never seeing him again. “Emory Phillip Story, you come back to me.”
He could barely understand her words. He reached for her and hugged her as tight as he could. They stood there, silhouetted against the rising sun.
“Hey, Storybook, can’t you keep your hands off of her for one minute?” Corbin Lowell Cook could never keep his mouth shut. He had a comment for every occasion. He came around the corner of the depot carrying a very small duffel bag.
“Does that bag contain all of your worldly possessions, Cookbook?” Emory asked him.
“Those are just my county possessions. I’ll fill it with my worldly stuff when we get ‘over there,’” he blurted without thinking. Irene suddenly burst into tears again and ran down the steps toward the tracks.
Emory looked at Corby and said, “Thanks a lot.” He jumped from the platform and followed her until they were both standing in the middle of the tracks.
She looked into his eyes and told him to promise her one more time that he was coming home and not to be a hero. He just stood there holding her until they heard the train whistle. Several people had shown up to say goodbye to the latest crop of young men that were making this journey. Emory saw his parents, his two sisters, Corby’s parents and little brother, several friends, and a few cousins. He suddenly became aware of the reality that he was leaving. Up to this day, he had only left the State of Kentucky on three separate occasions. He squeezed Irene’s hand, and she squeezed back. “I love you, Irene Rose Dixon,” he whispered in her ear. “You wait on me. Write me every day.” He pulled her closer to him and said, “I’ll be home before you know it. Then I am going to marry you.”
She was crying when she looked up at him. “You just come home.”
Corby hurried up beside them and, in his most official voice, said, “All aboard!” He smiled at Irene.
She looked him straight in the eye and said, “Get that silly grin off your face. You listen to me. I’m counting on you to bring him home. Don’t go runnin’ that mouth of yours and gettin’ the both of you in trouble. Just …” She stopped talking and hugged Em one last time.
The conductor was now officially calling, “All aboard!”
“I’ll write as soon as I get on the train. I’ll mail it the first chance I get.” He looked deeply into her eyes and said, “I love you, Irene. When you think of me, remember that, as long as I live, I will love only you.”
He stood at the rail as the train slowly began to accelerate. It would take almost two whole days to travel southwest to Texas. He shaded his eyes with the back of his hand and stared at the white dress. She stood alone with the sun rising behind her. I’ll never see her again. The thought crashed into his head so fast that he actually lost his balance. Why would I feel that? he wondered. He shivered as the doomsday feeling began to overwhelm him. The sun fell behind a drifting cloud, momentarily shading all the landscape except for the little knoll where Irene stood. The white dress shimmered in the lone sunbeam that surrounded her. She waved with her right arm while her left hand rested on her hip. Before she disappeared, Em had the feeling again that he might never see her again.
Corbin Lowell Cook came bursting through the door. “Hey, Em, wake up! You look like you just lost your best friend, but that couldn’t be true. ’Cause I’m right here.” He looked at the spot where Emory was staring and said, “Hey, come on in. You can’t even see her anymore. She’ll be here when we get back.”
Em continued to stare at the tracks and said, “If we get back.”
“Shut up. Of course, we’re comin’ back. You will marry Irene, and I’ll live in the spare room. She’ll love it.” Corby pulled him toward the door.
The train pulled into the station. Emory and Corby stared out of the window. It looked like the busiest place on earth. They were still in a civilian train station, but it looked like the military had taken over. There were soldiers in uniform everywhere. Military vehicles were being lifted onto flatcars. Everywhere they looked, all they saw were soldiers. There were no women or children anywhere. Suddenly, they both felt very small.
“You ready for this, Em?” Corbin sat with his face almost touching the window.
Emory saw, to his amazement, just how young and inexperienced the two of them were. Here they were, barely eighteen years old, straight from the hills of Kentucky. What are we doing here? he thought. The two of them had seemed so mature and wise back home. Now Em felt as if he were going to school for the first time, although this was much more frightening. We are winning the war, he thought, and it is almost over. We’ll be home by Christmas. I’ll marry Irene, and everything is going to be as it should be.
“All right, you bunch of maggots! Line up and shut up!”
Here we go, Em thought. He and Corby stepped into the aisle and got in line. The next few hours were like a nightmare. Em and the rest of the bewildered young men were never left alone, even for one second. Someone, or a group of someones, were always in their faces, screaming or swearing. Emory thought he was a little better prepared for this than Corby. He had only seen Corby for brief seconds since they were lined up alphabetically. He assumed that they would be reunited later. He hoped that Corby shared his confidence.
Corbin Lowell Cook had been tagging along with Emory since they were the only boys at Sunday school back a few years before the war had begun. His family had always been poor even before the Depression. Corbin practically lived with Emory and his family. He was a skinny kid with even skinnier legs. His hair was cut uneven across his entire head. That, coupled with the fact that he rarely bathed, made his hair look like a rotting mophead. Along with the acne that was mercifully starting to diminish, he made for a rather puny figure.
After hours of waiting in lines and learning how to not make eye contact with anyone, Emory was finally shown the barracks where he would be housed for the next six to eight weeks. Just as he thought, the barracks were as minimal as could be. Fifty bunks lined up in two rows. Names already stenciled on the sides. Alphabetical.
Emory found his name on the sixth bunk from the end of the second row. He slung the heavy green duffel bag off his shoulder. It landed with a thump beside the foot locker at the end of the bed. The smell of mothballs wafted through the air. When Em heard the duffel bag hit the floor beside him, he turned to see the guy who had been in line behind him all day. He was rubbing his hand over his freshly shaved head.
“I don’t think we’re going to get to use those bunks any time soon, huh?” He rubbed his hand on his pant leg and then held it out. “I’m Jack. Jack Turner.” Em shook his hand and introduced himself. “Where you from?” Jack asked.
“Kentucky. How about you?” Emory kept feeling the need to look over his shoulder. He expected someone in uniform to come screaming into the room at any moment. No one had yelled at him in over five minutes. For just a brief moment, he started to feel a little normal.
“Florida.” Jack leaned against the wall and looked around the room. “Going to get crowded in here too.”
Em moved to the other side of the room and started to look at the names stenciled on the bunks directly
