God, honey!” Louise said.
“We knew it was coming, baby.”
“I was praying it wouldn’t,” Louise said.
Hart knew she meant just that. She had been on her knees, asking God not to send her husband to war. She did the same thing every time he left the house to go on duty. Dear God, please send George home alive.
He called her four hours later and asked her to meet him downtown; he had to turn the car in, and he might as well do it now as later.
By that time, a lot of people had already shown up at the training center.
Peterson told him he had made arrangements with Kramer’s Kafeteria, across from the training center, to feed the men, and asked if he should order the breaking out of cots for the men. Hart told him no.
“I don’t think we’ll get orders to move out tonight, and even if we do, there will be time to light the tree and get people back. Have the first sergeant run a check of their 782 gear, then send them home with orders to be here at six in the morning.”
“Oh six hundred, aye, aye, sir.”
And then Peterson told him that he had called the Post-Dispatch and told them Baker Company had been mobilized, and the Post-Dispatch wanted to know when would be a convenient time for them to send a reporter and a photographer to take some pictures.
“Tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Oh nine hundred, aye, aye, sir.”
When Louise met him in the Dodge at the police garage downtown, she was all dressed up and making a real effort to be cheerful, which made it worse.
“Can you have supper with us?”
“Sure,” he said. “But I’ll have to spend the night at the training center.”
Over supper with Louise and the kids—she made roast pork with oven-roasted potatoes, which she knew he liked—he decided to hell with spending the night at the training center. He would spend his last night in his own bed with his wife; if something came up, they could call him.
Peterson called him at two in the morning to report they’d just had a call.
Five cars had been added to “the Texan,” which ran between Chicago and Dallas, and would arrive in St. Louis at 1725. One of the cars was a baggage car. Two were sleepers, and the other two coaches. It might, or might not, be possible that an additional two sleeping cars would be found in Dallas, where all the cars would be attached to a train to Camp Joseph Pendleton. Freight cars not being available at this time, Company B’s Jeeps and trucks would have to be left behind.
Furthermore, since it wasn’t sure if the dining car on the train could accommodate an unexpected 233 additional passengers, Company B was to be prepared to feed the men C- and/or 10-in-1 rations.
“Orders, sir?”
“First thing in the morning, we’ll truck the gear to the station,” Hart ordered. “Check with the motor sergeant and see if he can get at least one Jeep—the more the better—in the baggage car.”
“I don’t believe that’s authorized, sir.”
“And then ask Karl Kramer what he can do about putting dinner and breakfast together so that we can take that with us, too.”
“Sir,” Lieutenant Peterson said, “they said confirmation of our orders would follow by Western Union. They’re quite specific about feeding C-rations, and leaving the vehicles behind.”
“Somehow, I think that telegram is going to get lost in the shuffle,” Hart said. “You’ve been to Pendleton. You want to take long hikes around it?”
“No, sir.”
“Light the tree at 0430. I want everybody at the center by 0600.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“I’ll be there about five,” Hart said.
“Yes, sir.”
“You can relax, Paul,” Hart said. “I’ll take the heat for the Jeeps and the picnic lunches.”
He hung the phone up and looked at Louise.
“Honey,” he said. “I’d rather say so long here, than have you at the center. I’ll be pretty busy. There’s really, come to think of it, no point in you driving me there, either. I’ll call dispatch and have a black-and-white pick me up and take me.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
When he arrived at the Navy/Marine Corps Reserve Training Center at 0505, he was surprised to see a Navy staff car parked outside and a Marine major he’d never seen before, wearing a dress blue uniform, waiting for him inside. The major was accompanied by two photographers, one a Marine, the other a sailor.
The major said they had driven down overnight from Chicago, where the major was in