Stage Door Canteen (32 page)

The chief officer and the carpenter were already at the fo’c’sle head to stand by the windlass and release the brake that would let go the anchor. On the telephone, the chief engineer reported to Captain Griffiths that the oil lines running running aft had appeared to have severed somewhere along the route, disabling the telemotor on the bridge with subsequent loss of steering. The chief recommended all available hands be sent to search the ‘tween decks for signs of oil so the break could be located. Estimated time for repairs, after the break had been found, a couple of hours.

It would be dark by then. The Esher would anchor off Long Island until the oil leak was found, and make her way back to Manhattan, at a rough guess, by nine or ten o’clock. Late as hell.

There was not much conversation in the wheelhouse as the helmsman on the aft deck below steered the Esher steadily through the snow flurries. The pilot, looking resigned to missing his dinner, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the binnacle. The Lloyds agent bit his lip, bemused.

“Well, the new boilers performed well, anyway,” the shipyard senior man said, dryly.

SEVENTEEN

The Christmas tree, a donated blue spruce, was brought to the 44th Street Theater’s alley entrance by stagehand volunteers from nearby theaters. It was still snowing heavily and the tree, which had been delivered from New Jersey by pickup truck, had to be shaken thoroughly outside the canteen kitchen door to get rid of its crust of ice. Even so, it left a wet trail to the stage that George Kanarakis, wielding a mop, had to follow. But once inside, the beautiful tree filled the air with its fragrance. The stage hands got busy installing it on a metal Christmas tree stand.

Some of the stars who would appear in the Stage Door Canteen special Christmas Eve radio broadcast were there to have their pictures taken: New York stage and screen star Helen Hayes, singers Al Jolson and Marion Hutton, who were already in New York, and Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine, who had just flown in from Hollywood.

While the photographers’ bulbs flashed and newsreel cameras turned, Oson Welles insisted on actually decorating the tree. So George Kanarakis and Arthur Treacher, who was working that night as a kitchen volunteer, hauled out boxes of Christmas ornaments from the Canteen office.

“Orson Welles is making a mess of it,” Annemarie van Troup observed as roars of laughter burst out over the actor-producer’s attempts to stand on a shaky chair onstage and place a big silver star at the top.

“Orson knows what he’s doing,” George, the kitchen supervisor said. They watched Welles making the most of his rocky footing, swaying comically, arms flailing, grabbing the branches to keep from falling. He finally let two sailors catch him and pull him down. “This sort of shtick is what the news cameras love, kids, it’s real show biz. Thank God we’ve got a committee to pick up the mess and decorate the tree.”

One of the junior hostesses, an actress from the daytime radio drama, Guiding Light said, “I heard Orson Welles didn’t do very well with Citizen Kane. The reviews were awful.”

“The reviews weren’t bad,” George corrected her, “people just didn’t go to see it. Who wants to see a movie about William Randolph Hearst? It’s a very boring subject.”

“I love Marion Hutton, she’s such a good singer,” someone said. “Have you seen her sister, Betty Hutton? She’s singing with Tommy Dorsey now, but I don’t think she’s as good as Marion.”

The noise died down as Orson Welles and Al Jolson sat down on the edge of the stage and signed autographs for the crowd of Allied servicemen who gathered around them. Helen Hayes, Marion Hutton and Joan Fontaine posed for more photographs, smiling and holding up Christmas tree ornaments against the tree branches. In the lull one of the junior hostesses could be heard saying, “She was in the little girls’ room having hysterics. Nobody knew what was the matter with her.”

Someone said “Shhhh,” loudly.

“For goodness sake,” the voice went on, “why did she come here to the Canteen, she should have known the trouble it would cause! I bet Carmen Thompson had a total fit.”

“I suppose she was scheduled for last night, and felt like she had had to come in. But then it turned out to be a big mistake.”

“Maybe she didn’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t pick the Canteen girls’ restroom to go all to pieces. Now everybody knows all about it, and somebody said there was going to be a governors’ board meeting.”

Jane came up with a tray of red and green Christmas cupcakes. “Who’s this we’re talking about?”

“Some junior hostess named Christine something,” Annmarie told her. “I don’t know her, I’ve never been scheduled the nights she’s here. Anyway, she’s pregnant and doesn’t remember the guy’s name, so she can’t get in touch with him. From what Elise said she’s been wandering around in a daze since she found out that she was going to have a baby. And when she came in last night she went into the little girls’ room and started having hysterics.”

Jane was amazed. “How could you get pregnant and not know the guy’s name?”

“She knows the guy’s name, it’s Harry something. From what Carmen says, it’s a very long name, she thinks it’s Polish, and she didn’t write it down. She was so much in love, he was at some Army camp out on Long Island and he had two leaves in New York, and she never called him anything but Harry.”

“Ann Bennett called the Red Cross. Of course Christine said it wasn’t anybody she’d dated at the Canteen, it was someone she met outside, so what else could she do? The Red Cross told Ann to send her over to them, that if they could find out the camp on Long Island they could start looking for soldiers named Harry.”

They broke out in giggles again. Jane said, “Don’t you smell a rat somewhere? I mean, you’re a soldier and you go to bed with a girl and she doesn’t even know your last name? Sounds to me like Christine fell for a line.”

“Hey, some girls will fall for anything! I wonder how many Harrys there are in the Army on Long Island?”

Jane said quickly, “But he’s not there, she says he’s shipped overseas. That’s why she’s hysterical.”

“Jeepers! And she still doesn’t know his name? How could that happen?”

“Because she was so in looooove.”

They broke out laughing again. The supervisor of junior hostesses came up. “The Christmas tree decorating is over, ladies,” Carmen Thompson said, “but the newsreel photographers want to take pictures of some of our hostesses. Why don’t you go over to the stage and line up with Mr. Welles and Mr. Jolson and the Canadian airmen standing there?”

The Waldorf Hotel’s room service brought up the hamburgers Gene had ordered, along with bottles of Pabst beer in a silver champagne cooler, and a Tom Collins for Dina. The waiter also rolled in a table for them to use, spread with a white cloth, silverware, and a bud vase with a pink rose, but Gene told him to take it back. They carried the plates with the hamburgers and French fries and the drinks into the bed with them, sitting with all of it spread out on the covers like a picnic.

“This is okay like this, isn’t it?” he said, handing Dina her Tom Collins. He leaned back against the headboard, the bottle of beer in his hand, his other arm around her. “I thought about ordering champagne, but I didn’t know how you’d feel about it. I know you drink Tom Collinses.”

“This is fine.” She leaned back against him with a sigh, and his arm around her shoulders tightened, holding her. “I drink champagne at weddings, usually. It’s all right, but this is better.” She looked around the room, at the oriental carpet, the French-style furniture. “This is really nice, Gene, it’s a really pretty room. I don’t know how you managed to get a hotel room at the Waldorf, especially one this elegant.”

“They remembered me at the desk from last time, from the war bond tour, and having all those pictures taken and the newsreels. It’s like Lt. Sandover said, the Air Force spread the word on the Cincy Gal’s crew.” He balanced the plate with the half-eaten hamburger on his stomach, then picked up some French fries, dipped them in the ketchup, and stuck them in his mouth. “I told the desk I wanted a room, one of the good ones, that money was no object. They were really nice about it. It ended up costing a lot, but I think they still took some off the price.”

“The Cincy Gal?” She sipped at the straws in her Tom Collins. “What kind of thing did the Air Force do?”

He turned to her and stuck a French fry between her lips. “According to the lieutenant the Air Force says we can have whatever we want. To treat us with kid gloves because of what happened at Midway.”

“Ugh, how can you eat these with ketchup?” She put the French fry back on his plate and brushed her fingers together. “My oldest sister was a bridesmaid here at a wedding at the Waldorf. Her best girlfriend has a father who is a very successful doctor, he’s practically a millionaire. They wanted the Plaza for the wedding, but the Plaza was booked up for a year and a half in advance, so they had it here at the Waldorf. It was a gigantic wedding, ten bridesmaids.” She sighed. “I really never thought I’d be here, doing this.”

He put his hand on her hair, then guided her head to his shoulder. “We’re not doing anything, Dina. I told you that. Look, we’re lying here with all our clothes on, right? That was the deal, wasn’t it?” He waited for her to answer, but she was sipping at her drink. “I just want to hold you, Dina, and kiss you, because I love you so much. I want to have this day, like this, just the two of us, before I have to leave. That’s enough.”

She half-turned to him, and lifted her face. “Why does the Air Force give you anything you want?”

“Did I say that?” His free hand played with her curly hair, looping it over her ear. “It’s a long story, you don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay, kiss me first.”

He bent his head, and his mouth touched her lips very gently. Then he drew back. She looked up at him through her lashes. “I’ve been kissed before, Gene,” she murmured. “I really have.”

He hesitated. “I just didn’t want to—frighten you.”

She lifted her hand and put it at the back of his head and brought his face down to hers. This time she opened her lips. He groaned, and his arms tightened around her as she pressed the length of her body against him, sliding her fingers through his soft, close-cropped hair. They slid down in the bed as Gene rolled over her, kissing her hungrily.

In a few minutes they pulled back, breathing hard. When she reached up to loosen his tie, he grabbed at her hand and held it.

“I just wanted to touch you,” Dina protested. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do like it, honey. I like it too much.”

“Well, I just wanted to put my hand inside your shirt because you feel so solid—and strong. Really, Gene, you’re all muscle. I didn’t know you were so strong.”

He pulled her to him.

“Dina,” he murmured, “God, I love you so much, this is paradise for me, you know that? I can’t believe I’m here. I must be dreaming.”

She lifted her leg against his thigh, and their bodies settled warmly against each other. They kissed, long drowning kisses. She could feel that he was aroused, pushing against her. It felt good to have him heavy and hard like that, but when she curled her other leg over his, cradling him, he sat up abruptly.

“I’m going to get a beer.” He cleared his throat, went over to the silver cooler and pulled a bottle out of the ice and opened it. He lifted the beer and took a long gulp. “You want me to call room service for another Tom Collins for you?”

When he turned, Dina was standing beside the bed in her satin slip. She looked beautiful, her black, curling hair brushing her shoulders, her lipstick smeared, her eyes glowing. For a long moment he stared at her. He couldn’t stop looking at her, she was so lovely.

“You better put your dress back on,” he said, hoarsely. “I mean it, Dina. You’ll only blame me for anything that happens.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

“Listen, do you want to hear what really happened to the Cincy Gal?” He lifted the beer bottle, throwing his head back, taking large gulps. “Lieutenant Sandover, that’s the officer they sent out to Texas to get me when they cancelled my leave, well, he sure had it down right. He said our crew got picked for all the attention because we saved the Cincy Gal and got back to Midway in spite of hell and Jap Zeros, and not because of any action we could be given a medal for. Well, except for the four Jap Zeros I got and Lieutanent van Dorndt’s bringing in the plane when it was all shot up. But Sandover was right, what we did was save our own butts, except when I got a little crazy about the Japs trying to kill us, and took over the waist guns. We couldn’t have cared less about saving the Cincy Gal, except that it was the only thing we had to get back to Midway. Then when the lieutenant read the reports for the story he was trying to write and found out what the Cincy Gal really did, he said, well, no wonder the Air Force wanted us to keep our mouths shut. He also said they probably shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of us in the first place, except that the Army wanted some heroes in planes that were as good as the Navy’s Colin Kelly. And maybe the President wanted something for his radio speech.”

Dina sat down on the opposite side of the bed. “Well you don’t have to feel bad about it, Gene. Everybody’s read the story in the newspapers, and the whole country knows all of you are heroes. What all of you did was just brave and wonderful, bringing that plane back and not getting killed, no matter what the Air Force thinks. After all, what do they know?”