Songbird Under a German Moon (31 page)

After changing into her USO uniform, Betty scanned the faces of the others backstage, wondering if Frank would be there. She felt a cold chill move up her arms when she saw him, standing in the back corner of the practice area talking with Oskar. She tried to look away, but Frank's eyes met hers and he motioned her over.

Betty cocked her head, unsure if she'd just seen that. But then Frank did it again, motioning her over with a wave of his hand.
Betty approached, but instead of acknowledging Frank, she turned to Oskar.

“So I assume you're the hero who got the lights back up and running?” she asked.

Oskar shrugged. “Yes, well, it was only a minor problem—the electrical board is getting tired.” He chuckled. “Both of us have been around this place more years than we know.”

“I'm glad you got it working, but I have to admit it was sort of fun singing with those spotlights.'”

“Yes?” Oskar nodded. “I can arrange again.”

“Well, maybe not.” Betty laughed.

“It did look like you had fun.” Frank winked. “Maybe I'll have to join you up there one day.”

“You sing?” Betty cocked an eyebrow and anger built inside her. How could he tell her what he'd told her earlier and then act as if nothing had happened?

“No, but I could pretend, if it would get me in one of those fancy white suits.” He ran his fingers down the lapel of his olive drab uniform. “I clean up well.”

“What are you doing?” The words spilled from her mouth. “You told me today that you were using me, that you don't really care about me, and now you want to act like nothing is wrong? Do you expect me to forgive you? To be your friend and pretend that nothing's wrong? To let you use me some more?”

From the corner of her eye, Betty realized Oskar still stood there, watching the scene. A pained look colored his face. Had he ever been married or fallen in love? Maybe he'd lost his love too.
Maybe the war tore him apart from the woman he loved, as so many others had experienced…

“Betty, can I talk to you for a minute?” Frank lowered his voice and led her toward the back door. “I know you usually go to the canteen, but I need to talk to you. I need your help.”

“Now you need me, huh? You want to use me again?”

“It's not like that. I said what I said because I was hoping you would leave.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you were hoping I'd leave?”

Frank continued, unfazed. “I lied about my feelings so that you'd go home where it was safe.”

“Where it's safe?” She focused on him, considering his words. “Are you serious? Because it sure sounded like you were telling the truth.”

“Please, Betty, there's too much to explain now. All I can say is that I was lying. About everything. I need you. I need your help in figuring out what happened to Kat. I can't do it without you.” He looked around at the other performers who pushed their way past them. Then he leaned forward. “I have the photos of Kat's body,” he said barely above a whisper. “I need you to look at them. And I'm actually passing up another invitation because I need your help.”

“You really need my help?” She studied his face, hoping to see that he was telling the truth. And she could see that either he deeply cared for her or he was a better actor than Humphrey Bogart. “Okay, I trust you—I think.” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked her chin up at him. “So what was the other invitation?”

“My roommate invited me to this German club. He has a friend—a girlfriend who used to sing opera here. She said she wanted to talk to me about something.”

“That sounds interesting—curious too. I'd like to be there—hear what she has to say.”

“Sure, okay. I want to meet with her soon. I'll let you know when. But first…”

“The photos.” She whispered. “I'll try.”

Betty's stomach ached just thinking about it, but she could tell from Frank's tone that he really did need her.

“But there's one more thing I need to know. Are you sure you said all those things because you were worried about me—and wanted me to go home where it's safe?”

He leaned down, his face close to hers. “Yes, Betty, that's the truth.” His face was gentle, yet protective also. As if he did care—really care for her.

They strode outside, and Betty was pleased to see it was warmer than she had expected. She wrapped her arm in his. “You might have your personal MP again, but do you think we could walk? I've been shuttled around and cooped up for three days.” Even as she spoke, Betty wondered if deep inside she was stalling what was to come. She couldn't imagine having to look at Kat—that way.

“Sure. I haven't seen Howard since he drove you home the other day anyway.”

The night was dark, the moon half-hidden behind large, gray clouds. The parking lot around them was full of GIs. Others, like them, walked down the road to town.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe I'm really in Germany. It's like a little America here,” she said, trying to act like everything was normal. “I shop at the PX and eat at the mess. I'm not sure if I've even had a conversation—or tried—with a German citizen since I've been here, other than Oskar.”

“I think we get too comfortable. We forget. I have to remind myself of the buddies I lost. I have to remember the photos of the concentration camps. Remember there was one here in town. I have to remember the fear of being a target.”

“Tell me what it was like, the war. We've talked about many things, but not that.”

“I was an aerial photographer attached to headquarters of the Ninth Air Force.”

“So you shot photographs from the planes? Like you did during our flight?” She reached for him. He slipped his hand around hers and smiled, pulling her closer to his side as they walked.

“I took photos—among other things.”

“What do you mean?”

“The B-17 crews loved it when we photographers were on board. And there were times, when we were in a sticky situation, when I manned the waist guns.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

He shrugged. “It was our job, what can I say?”

“Did you get to fire those guns?”

“Only a few times. We were also often escorted by American or British fighters—so they kept the bad guys at bay.” He chuckled. “It wasn't always exciting. We'd also take photos of the ground crews
with their individual aircraft. And we were always on the flight line when a mission took off and returned. The worst feeling was when a plane landed and it shot a red flare as they taxied down the landing strip. Then we knew wounded were on board.

“Once when that happened, we found out the waist gunner had been hit. He died a few hours later. After that, I talked the captain into getting permission for me to fly with the crew as a temporary waist gunner. The crew that I flew with ended up being my favorite—I wasn't assigned to them, but I flew with them as often as I could. I think I went out with them thirty times—maybe forty.”

Betty looked up to the night sky and tried to imagine what it would have been like to live there at that time—hearing the roar of the planes and knowing what was to come. “Is it strange, being here now?”

“It is.” He chuckled. “And, if I'm honest, the hardest thing I've faced since being in Europe is this assignment. I used to shoot the war, and it was a big boost to my ego. I've chatted with God about it, and He's assured me I'm exactly where I need to be. Still, it's not really something that's going down in history.”

“What about the photos you took of Kat? Those made the news.”

He sighed. “I'd give that fame back if I could.”

They neared the bottom of the hill and moved into town. MPs and soldiers patrolled the streets. Except for small clusters of people who slept in the shells of bombed buildings, and the various baroque structures that still stood, one would think they walked on a military base.

Betty noticed many of the soldiers had girls on their arms, and she was thankful she had her USO uniform on. Glad no one would think she was a German girl, trying to bum her next meal.

“So have you ever seen your photos in the papers?” she asked.

“I've seen a few in
Stars and Stripes
. My parents read the papers religiously. They cut out all they can find, and I'm glad. I don't have any of the originals.”

“You don't get to keep them?”

“We're not allowed. My photos are the property of the U.S. Army.” He chuckled. “Even the ones of you girls—those photos are important to national security, I'm sure.”

“So—you haven't made
any
extras? Not even of the USO girls? I mean if you have to take a shot, you might as well enjoy them.”

“Well, no, I haven't made any extra prints of the USO
girls
, but I have to admit I did make a few extra copies of someone.” He winked at her.

Betty wished she could be excited by his words. Under other circumstances maybe.

Soon they'd reached Frank's house.

A rush of nausea moved to Betty's stomach, as she realized again what was to come.

Frank opened the door. He flipped on the lights, scanned the room, and then entered. She'd never seen Frank act like this before. So intense. So serious, as if danger lurked around the corner.

He closed the door behind them. “Are you going to be okay looking at them? I wouldn't ask, but I need your help.”

“Truthfully? I just don't know.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and then pulled them tight against her. “I'm afraid of seeing Kat like that.”

“If you don't want to…”

“I do. I—” She took in a deep breath. “I will. If it'll help.”

He nodded, and they entered the darkroom. Frank walked to a shelf in the corner and pulled down a small stack of photos. His face was serious as he flipped through them, but then he paused, smiled, and singled out a photo.

“Let's start with this one—put the beautiful one before the harder ones.”

Frank handed the photo to her, and Betty saw herself. She wore Irene's white dress with the black polka dots. From the way one side of her skirt flipped up, she must have swayed. A soft smile curled on her lips that were open slightly, as if she was preparing to launch into a song. The camera had been focused so none of the GIs were seen, just her on the stage.

“I love this one. It looks like you're having a good time.” He stepped closer to look at it.

“I do have a good time. Sometimes when I'm up there, I think I was born for this. It's as if God created me just for that moment.”

“I can tell.”

“But I have to admit, after today, I was seriously considering leaving. I still might.”

Frank nodded. Then studied her face for a moment. Finally, he turned back to the photos in his hands. “Are you ready to look at the other ones—the ones of Kat?”

“Yes.” She felt her hands trembling. “I think so.”

“Okay, but I think we should go sit down. You should sit for this.”

Betty took a deep breath and then looked down at the first photo Frank held on his lap. He passed it over to her and she looked closer. It was Kat's face. Her eyes were closed, her face white, and she looked as if she were sleeping.

“Oh, my—oh, dear God.” She whispered it as a prayer. The tears came, and she turned and pressed her face into Frank's shoulder.

“I'm so sorry, Betty. I shouldn't have asked you to do this.”

Collecting herself, Betty looked at the picture again, trying to notice anything that stood out to her. Besides being pale, Kat looked exactly the same.

“I don't see anything wrong. She looks just like she's sleeping, doesn't she? Do you have another photo?”

“I do, Betty, but I don't think you should look at any more.”

“But if I could help.” She gripped his arm, feeling his support.

Dear God, help me. If I'm supposed to do this, give me the strength.

“ Okay, but take your time. Only if you're able.”

She waited a few minutes and then sat back. “Okay, but I think I can only handle one more.” She tried to force a smile. “I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep tonight as it is, and I'll need sleep. Mickey told
us we're repeating the show tomorrow. I suppose a whole passel of guys couldn't get in. He wants to make sure everyone gets to see it.”

She sat back, pressing her back against the couch, averting her gaze from the photo.

Frank looked at her, and from the sad look on his face, she knew that if he didn't truly need her help he wouldn't have asked her to do this. “Okay. I'm ready.”

Frank placed another photo on her lap, and she looked down at it. It was a photo of Kat, floating in the water. Her white dress flared out in the water—only…

“Wait.” Betty sat up straighter. “This isn't right.”