Robert Conroy - 1920 - America's Great War

“Not at all,” he answered. It did hurt, but only a little and he’d be damned if he’d admit it. She might move away if he did and he loved the feel of her against him.

“I won’t break if you kiss me.”

He grinned, “You certain?”

They kissed tenderly and gently. She pulled away and looked at him, a small smile on her lips.

“Josh, I’m old-fashioned, but not totally so. Right now I am a virgin and will still be so when you leave this room. Do you understand that?”

He nodded. It was suddenly hard to speak. She unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. His undershirt followed. His chest was pale and her fingers lingered over the scars on his shoulder. She kissed where the stitches had left their mark. She couldn’t help tears from falling onto his chest. Damn Germans.

With shaking hands, he removed her jacket and blouse, then slid her undergarments down to her waist. Her breasts were small but lovely and he cupped them, caressing her nipples with his fingers and then his lips. She smiled and bit her lip. Farm boys weren’t all that innocent, she thought.

“Remember, we’re not going all the way,” she said in a whisper.

“I understand.”

“But if you’re a very good boy, I’ll make sure we both have a wonderful afternoon.”

He laughed, “Promise?”

“Absolutely,” she said as she let her tongue explore his ear.

Deep down, he wondered what would happen if Kirsten Biel chose to come home. He decided he didn’t care. He also thought he heard thunder. Or was it his heart beating?

Luke returned the salute of an enlisted man and walked over to where Kirsten stood. They were outside the Civic Center where civilians continued to be processed for ration cards.

Kirsten was taking a break. As supervisor of the group of clerks, she now rarely dealt directly with their customers. Her job was to resolve problems, and she generally did that by issuing a temporary card. Err on the side of mercy was her motto and nobody argued with her, although some of her coworkers cheekily made comments about making a stab at solving their problems.

A heavily-bandaged Will and his two companions had departed north on the first train the military could get them on. Luke had wanted to draft them into the Army, but decided against it. He thought it might be detrimental to the Army’s morale to associate with dumb shits like them. Will and his chums had managed to become the laughing stock of San Francisco. Their replacements in refugee work had all been women which had brought an element of compassion to the office. She had to admit the work wasn’t all that hard and helping people was indeed rewarding.

For once the sun was shining brightly and there were few clouds in the sky. It was easy to forget there was a war on, and that the Germans were approaching San Luis Obispo, opposed by only two small American infantry divisions.

There’d been another major change as a result of her confrontation with Will. The entire area was now under martial law. General Liggett had said the abuse of refugees was the final straw. Admiral Sims had concurred. Mayor Rolph had fumed and raged, some said he’d literally stomped his feet, but to no avail. Liggett was too tired of bureaucratic incompetence to much care what Rolph thought.

It should have happened long ago, Luke thought as he approached Kirsten. She was smiling. “And what makes you so happy today?” he asked.

“Among other things, a blue sky and a handsome man to share it with. That and the fact that the number of refugees seems to be dwindling, which makes my work so much easier. Of course, the general will likely put us all on trains when the last refugee departs.”

“I hope not. I would miss you terribly.”

Although a part of his mind said he was being selfish for wanting her near, she would be far safer up north and out of the way of the approach of the Kaiser’s legions. But then he recalled how catastrophically her last journey had turned out and wondered just what was the right thing to do.

“I am also wondering just what is going on right now in the apartment,” she said and briefly explained that Elise had brought Josh over for “lunch.”

Luke chuckled and thought of the quiet young couple. “Still waters do run deep, don’t they? Want to just happen to drop in on them?”

She punched him on the arm. “We’ll do no such thing. Let the young lovers have their moments.”

“And when will we have ours?”

She took his hand, “Soon. Maybe someday very soon. Just don’t push. I’m very fond of you and you are the only reason I’m staying here, but I don’t want to rush into anything.”

Luke understood and was somewhat satisfied. He would take things one step at a time. He heard thunder and looked up. It couldn’t be raining, could it?

The flight of fifty Gotha V bombers was escorted by a score of Albatros fighters. The bombers came in at a height of ten thousand feet. They were unopposed. No American planes flew to meet them and no anti-aircraft guns could reach them. A few machine-gun batteries did open up, but were quickly silenced by their commanders. They were wasting ammunition shooting at targets that high and they weren’t accurate in the first place. Worse, the shells had to come down and, like the proverbial arrow, who knew on what and where. Shooting at the Gothas was an exercise in futility.

As Luke and Kirsten watched, the bombs started to fall, like dropping fruit, straight down and into the heart of the city to the bay side of the Presidio. They instinctively ducked as the explosions began even though no bombs had yet fallen anywhere near them. Ironically, it was the part of the city burned by the fire of 1906 that was being bombed.

Several bombers separated from the main force and dropped their loads on coastal batteries.

Kirsten grabbed his arm. “Look.”

A handful of American planes had begun to attack the bomber formation. It was a futile gesture. They were swarmed over by the escorting Albatros fighters. A couple of American planes spiraled downward, smoke trailing behind them, while the survivors raced for safety.

But, out of luck or skill, one of the bombers was hit and began to smoke and lose altitude. People on the street cheered the sight and both Luke and Kirsten joined in. The crippled plane was angling for a landing in the bay. Luke quickly realized that the military had to get to the wreckage first.

The remaining bombers and fighters were departing. It had taken but a few seconds for them to deposit their loads. Luke left Kirsten and ran to the waterfront. A Navy launch was just arriving. He hailed it and was soon on his way.

The wreckage was a couple of miles offshore and sinking slowly when they arrived. A couple of private boats were already there. Damn, he thought.

“Private boats get back,” he called out. “This is military property.”

A grizzled seaman looked at him. “Kiss off, soldier. I found it and I’m keeping whatever I want. Salvage, it’s called.”

Luke borrowed a revolver from the launch’s locker and a grinning bosun took another. “And I call it martial law and military property. If you don’t want your ass shot off, back off.”

The scavenger’s face fell when he saw the guns. “All yours,” he said, “but I’m keeping the pilot. We’re gonna hang his ass for bombing the city.”

Christ, Luke thought, how many enemies do we have besides the Germans? By now they were alongside the wreck and the scavenger’s little boat. An ashen-faced man lay in the bilge. He was bloody, but apparently alive.

Luke kept the gun in sight. “Maybe we can let you have him after we’re through questioning him, but we need his information.”