Peephole

By Joel Galloway

A curious eleven-year boy becomes involved in WWII espionage.  What he discovers terrifies him, but like a moth to the candle, his fascination with the "Swiss" leads to violence and death -- twice nearly his own.  He is the most unlikely person in the most unlikely place to discover a major espionage attempt to obtain America's atomic bomb secrets.  It's so implausible no one believes him. Told through the eyes of a small boy, this story unfolds in a setting where the Great Depression ends and war brings all the heartache and travail facing the American home front.   All of this intertwined with the biggest enemy espionage story of the war and the development of the atomic bomb

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597051507

Book preview

Prologue

DR. LOUIE CORELLI SAT hunched over the desk with his hands covering his face, panic and depression again taking over his life. It was the same fear the Black Shirts had instilled in him the night he came across them clubbing to death that older couple. He vividly recalled the fear that had gripped him when he came upon those thugs kicking the woman on the ground and shouting insults. Someone slammed him up against the building, screaming in his face, They are Jews! Now get out of here!

I'm such a coward! What is wrong with me? I didn't even try to stop them. I just ran back to my apartment. The Medinas were my friends and neighbors. I did nothing to help them and said nothing to anyone. I just ran away! Now they are dead. No one cares.

Corelli was too frightened and absorbed with ghosts from his past to notice his visitor had left the office and was walking down the long hallway of the Mathematics Building. Only when he heard the ding of the elevator did he grasp that he was alone and the office door left half-open.

Continuing to whisper aloud, as he did often when lost in deep thought, he asked, What can I do? How did they find me? We have been in the United States only seven weeks and here on campus less than four. Did they follow us? I was certain Maria was safe here at this small Iowa college. We're so far away and isolated from everything in Europe. My God! They have my whole family! I know these people! They never make threats unless they intend to carry them out.

Corelli kept thinking about how the man enjoyed handing him the five photographs of his family, how he plopped into the stuffed chair across from his desk and incessantly tapped his fingers on the wooden armrest while demanding immediate results. If I don’t get the information I want, he had said calmly, I will have your family sent one by one to the concentration camp in Dachau. He talked about having Maria beaten up or maybe even killed. The man said it casually, but the intensity of his glare and the coldness of the voice told Corelli otherwise, and it left him speechless and immobilized.

Studying the pictures, he noticed how bewildered and lost his seventy-three year old mother looked. His sister and her two daughters appeared frightened, and all eight appeared unkempt. Studying the pictures for more details, he noticed that their clothes were soiled; he wondered if they were even alive, as his visitor claimed.

He told himself, I have no choice but to believe they are alive and together somewhere.

He knew he had to do what was necessary to keep them alive, even if it meant betraying his dear friend and the country that had just given him freedom and a chance for a decent life. It's hopeless, he muttered despondently.

Dr. Corelli continued to sit at his desk staring at the five photographs as though they would yield some answer, some unnoticed clue that would release him from his sudden burden, although he knew no relief existed. After a bit, he muttered, I'll never forget the smirk on that man's face as he handed me these pictures. He reminds me of someone, someone familiar, but who is it? He recalled that nervous staccato finger tapping reverberating off the high plaster ceiling of his narrow office, the sound still echoing in his head. Louie Corelli was unable to shake the feeling that this man's appearance and that nervous behavior were somehow familiar.

Gradually, he became aware of dampness at the base of his neck and realized his back was soaked with sweat. The radiators in his office often overheated the room, but he had learned the proper adjustment of the windows to create a comfortable balance as the cold January air seeped in. Now, despite the relative comfort, he found the familiar aroma of the radiators mixing with that of his own perspiration. He had been shivering without even realizing it.

Corelli looked at his watch; he had been sitting motionless for almost an hour. He set aside the photos, as there was only one thing to do, and his timeline for making the phone call was slipping away. He put his hand on the telephone but did nothing. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the phone number given him and picked up the receiver. He waited for the campus switchboard operator to say, Number please.

Operator, this is a long-distance call to Chicago.

One

WHEN GOOD TIMES COME...

The engine noise was unbelievable. It started with a low roar from afar and slowly grew louder. Now you could see them on the horizon coming from the east, growing larger with every moment.

Mom! You'd better hurry! They're coming! he shouted back over his shoulder as he shot through the screen door. The door banged hard against the house and jammed wide open as he continued his frantic pace. Leaping onto the heavy wooden railing that bordered the large front porch, his left foot touching for only a split second, he made a spectacular leap out over the flowerbed to the front yard. They're gigantic! he hollered with pure delight. There were six of them, just as the neighbor kid, Floyd, had told him last night. Floyd's sister, Judy, got the news from Dan, her husband of three years. Seeing no one coming out of his house, he quickly returned to the front porch, performing another magnificent leap onto the side of the wooden railing and shouted, Mom! Mom, you've got to hurry or you'll be too late. It's incredible!

I'm coming, Jamie! I'm coming! Don't yell like that at your mother. My goodness! What's all that noise? Coming out onto the front porch and putting her hands over her ears, she hurried down the side steps of the front porch and over to where her son was standing in the open space of their front yard. As she caught with her son, she saw Judy waving while running across the street towards the three vacant lots used as the neighborhood baseball field.

Realizing that no one could hear her over the noise, Judy still stopped and shouted, saying, Dan wants me in this yellow dress and to wave my white umbrella. It's supposed to help him find me.

Now the ground under their feet was vibrating to the tempo of the 1200-horsepower turbo-charged Cyclone engines. Each plane had four of them. This was Dan Lambert’s squadron of brand-new B-17 bombers, flying low, directly overhead. Floyd had said late morning and, sure enough, it was eleven A.M. .

James Finn, nicknamed Jamie, did not know it yet, but, as he stood in his front yard with his mother squinting into the sun on this hot sunny day in early August of 1940, World War II was starting for him and the rest of this small Iowa community. The redheaded, freckled-faced eleven-year old was tall-for-his-age and wore black-rimmed glasses. He had never seen an airplane up close, let alone a real military bomber. Now, six of the newest and biggest of them all were right overhead, showing him the magnificence of their 104-foot wingspans and their 54,000 pounds of shining metal. They were flying so low he could see the airmen waving out the windows and read the planes’ markings. Dan’s plane had to be the one leading the box formation, for he was the squadron commander. It was a new squadron, heading for California to join the 38th Reconnaissance Group.

Jamie turned to his mother and shouted, Floyd told Al and me that chances were good that Dan would be heading overseas, maybe somewhere in the Pacific.

Americans were still struggling to recover from the serious economic depression that, for many hard-working, industrious people, had destroyed their jobs, families, ownership of homes and farms and for countless others, their self-esteem and any hope for the future. A writer for the Saturday Evening Post had recently written that mid-America had turned from discouragement to despair.

The Great Depression had started in the heartland of America with a collapse in farm prices in the mid-twenties and had slowly swept the nation. Here it was, a good fifteen years later, and only a few were making progress in the quality of their everyday living.

Now the Europeans were at each other's throats again, still trying to settle an old score that had involved Americans some twenty years before. France and the other nations on the European continent found themselves directly under Nazi Germany’s heel. England was now standing alone against Germany, and the air blitz of London was just beginning.

Most Americans feared that their country would be sucked back into the same old war. Whatever was going on in the sky overhead this clear hot summer morning was proof enough to the locals that the government was up to something. Many in this central Iowa community, mostly first-and second-generation German and Irish families, had seen Europe’s wars firsthand. Almost all worried that Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR) meant to enter into another fruitless war with Germany, as Woodrow Wilson had done twenty-some years earlier.

By now all 5,400 plus residents of Carrollton were outside looking up at the low-flying formation of bombers and trying to figure out what in the world was happening. Judy, Floyd’s older sister, had returned home two months ago after Dan's squadron began flight operations for deployment from the Northern Michigan air base where they had been living.

Judy was Jamie’s former babysitter and once again lived three houses down the street from him. Just then, Judy looked back and ran back across the street to Jamie, giving him a big hug saying, Jamie! Jamie! That’s Dan up there and I’m sure he can see us. Give him a big wave. Oh, you’ve grown up so much! I can hardly believe I used to baby-sit you.

Jamie grinned: "Yeah, I’ve got two jobs. But I wish I could be in the army, like Dan.

Got to go, Dan wants me in that lot across the street with this dumb outfit I’m wearing, then she turned and ran back to the vacant lot.

The B-17s flew straight overhead, passed over the west side of town and when once again over farmland made a slow wide turn and headed back toward Carrollton. Since Carrollton was directly on course to their new assignment, Lieutenant Dan Lambert had permission to make one pass over his hometown en route to the California base. The general who had given permission had known Dan and Judy since Dan’s West Point days and felt that the flyover would be good public relations for an Army that would start calling up reserves in the near future. They also had permission to fly over Grand Banks, Nebraska, the hometown of Lieutenant Slim Watson, the skipper of plane three. Dan turned his squadron and went back toward Carrollton; he had to take one more look for his wife, plus he had a package to deliver.

Old retired railroader and disabled war veteran, Tom Willy came running out of his house. Confused and frighten by all the noise, he nearly fell down catching up with his wife who was standing in the street with Mrs. Wilkinson. Pointing up at the sky he screamed, God damn! Ruth, we’re under attack!

No we’re not, Tom! his wife Ruth shouted over the noise. Taking his trembling hand she hollered, "That’s Judy’s husband Dan and his crew coming by to say hello.

Here they came again, but this time from the south with that same low rumbling roar of twenty-four Wright radial piston engines close together. The reflection of the sun continued flashing intermittently from the bombers’ wings. Just before they were directly overhead, something tied to a long yellow streamer came out of the rear of the lead plane. The streamer and something tied to it missed the open ball field and landed on the roof of the Zimmerman house. It slid down the side of the roof and stuck in the eaves of the two-story home. The planes began turning west and gaining altitude upon reaching the north side of town.

Jamie's mother turned to him and said, Looks like Dan is going to fly directly over his parents’ farm. They could see the white exhaust smoke coming from the engines as the squadron began climbing towards the western horizon.

Now that the planes were leaving, the neighborhood’s interest turned to the yellow streamer and package stuck on the Zimmermans’ roof. Bern, Jamie’s good buddy, who lived across the street in the corner house, and Al, Jamie’s older brother, tried to grab the yellow streamer dancing in the breeze that was hanging from the package stuck in the eaves two stories in the air.

Mr. Zimmerman, a quiet elderly German who, along with others, had come to America after World War I, was so upset about what was happening that his wife brought a chair outside and told him to sit down before he had a heart attack. Al told Jamie later that Mr. Zimmerman said his house had been bombed and was hollering at everyone to stay back. Things were getting out of hand, with Mr. Zimmerman shouting and pushing people, until his wife said something stern to him in German and got control of the situation.

At last, someone caught the yellow streamer and gave it a firm tug. Down came the package, wrapped in a cardboard cover with lots of tape and twine to hold it together. The package read, Air Delivery for Mrs. Judy Lambert. Judy arrived as the package dropped off the roof. When someone handed it to her, Jamie noticed that she was crying. Jamie could not understand why, as he thought this was the most wonderfully exciting thing he had ever seen. Everyone watched expectantly, hoping that Judy would open the package.

She simply took it, clutched it to her chest and said, Thank you. I just want to be alone, before turning and running back to her house.

Judy’s mother, standing next to Mrs. Zimmerman, shouted at Floyd who was starting to follow his sister, Stay outside and mind your own business. If your sister wanted company, she would have stayed out here.

No one found out what was in the package for Judy; Floyd said he thought it was something for the new baby who was to arrive in February. Dan had included in the package an arm patch for the 38th Reconnaissance Squadron for Floyd.

That is so neat! said Jamie when he saw it. He could not believe Floyd Harkins’ good fortune of having a brother-in-law like Dan. Judy was ten years older than Floyd, who had just turned sixteen, the same age as Al, Jamie’s brother. Al was bad enough, but Floyd was the smart aleck of the neighborhood, a know-it-all kid who got away with anything. It chafed Jamie to know that Floyd would soon be over to say, I told you so. Floyd delighted in finking on Bern and Jamie, who had more than enough supervision without Floyd sticking his nose into their business.

After awhile, things settled down and the neighbors headed home. Jamie hurried home for lunch, as this was Tuesday, the day he was to start his new job at the Buchight Hotel. When Jamie walked into the kitchen, asking what was for lunch, he noticed his mom feeding two hobos who were sitting on the steps of the back porch.

They were talking quietly to each other about what had happened in the sky overhead while enjoying two peanut butter sandwiches made with fresh homemade bread, a large scoop of macaroni and cheese along with a big glass of cold water. Because the railroad yards were a few blocks away, it was common for men out of work and riding the trains to come around asking for work or food. Few were thieves or criminals; almost all were simply part of the vast number of the unemployed wandering the nation looking for work. Jamie’s dad had repeatedly asked his mom not to feed tramps when he was not home, but she did it anyway. When caught, she would firmly tell his dad, They are down on their luck and so hungry that they have to ask for help. He would grumble and walk away as she continued in a voice that chased after him, Thank God you have a good job and we have enough food to feed our family, Mr. Finn.

When the two young men had finished their meal, they thanked Jamie’s mom and asked if she had some work for them to do to repay her for the meal. She thought for a moment and then told them, My husband has five heavy boxes in the basement that need to be moved to the garage. You can find them at the bottom of the steps going down from the cellar doors on the south side of the house.

Our pleasure, ma'am, replied the shorter of the two, as they both stood and set out to work. The boxes were not that heavy, and they quickly completed the job. It was a small token for the favor given them; they both appreciated the woman’s thoughtfulness in providing at least a shred of dignity by turning a handout into an honestly earned meal.

When the men were done, Jamie’s mom directed them to the basement washtub where they could clean themselves up. Perhaps you saw it on your left at the bottom of the stairs. It won’t take a minute and you’ll both be better off for it. She followed up with a lecture about being unkempt. Jamie could tell his mom liked the manners and the shy dimpled smile of the one slightly built man of about twenty-five and wanted to help him. She told them, There are cardboard boxes of clothes near the indoor stairs, across from the coal room, that the women's auxiliary at church is collecting. If you can find something that fits, wash your dirty clothes in the washtubs and take them with you to dry later. She handed the younger one an old razor and a bar of Ivory soap saying, Here, leave this in the basement by the small mirror on the wall next to the washtubs. You two are handsome young men and you should take pride in who you are. There is no need in going around all scruffy and dusty. Now go tidy up. Ending her little talk, she gave them some encouragement in a softer voice, When good times come you will be just fine.

Jamie thought, Hey guys, that’s the same advice I get, but he decided not to share that insight. Instead, he ran into the living room and turned the volume up on the radio as his favorite song, I've Got Spurs, That Jingle, Jangle, Jingle, sung by Kay Kyser was playing. He stayed in front of the radio to listen to the next song by Dinah Shore, Far Away Places.

Jamie heard the men cleaning up in the basement as his mother gave him the same lunch the hobos had had, but only one small peanut butter sandwich plus a large glass of milk and two cookies. Over lunch, they talked about the package dropped on the Zimmermans’ roof.

What do you think was in it? he asked excitedly. Floyd said he knows it has to be something for the new baby.

Jamie’s mom informed him, You know, Jamie, what's in Judy’s package from Dan is really none of your business, along with many other things in this world.

Standing at the door and waving goodbye to the two visitors, she told Jamie that the smaller of the two reminded her of his Uncle Joe Dalley. All he knew about his Uncle Joe was that he was usually out of work and that he had the thirst, plus a horse named Roosevelt that he taught to play dead. Every now and then Uncle Joe would also ride the rails looking for work. His dad’s version was that Uncle Joe was mostly looking for adventure and a free meal.

As he was finishing his cookies, Jamie’s mom sat at the kitchen table and gave him the word. You know that you will have to save half of what you earn at this new job, just like your morning paper route. He would never understand it. His brother Al had a paper route, helped his dad sometimes and always had money. Now he would have two jobs and still he knew he would be penniless the day after he was paid.

JAMIE’S JOB AT THE Buchight Hotel was on Tuesday and Friday and took less than two hours each day. One of his jobs was to carry the clean laundry, mostly bedding and towels, to the second and third floors. Mrs. Buchight and the housekeeper, Sally, were both getting up in years and hauling things up and down the stairs was becoming hard work. The hotel had a laundry chute for getting things down to the first floor laundry room, but the many trips taking linens and cleaning supplies back up had become a problem. They decided to find some young legs to take the wear and tear off theirs.

The upper two floors each had eighteen rooms along with four bathrooms, which were located in the center of each floor. A linen storage room and a separate storage closet for cleaning supplies (sporting new labels telling Jamie where everything should be) were located on both floors near the stairwells. Jamie’s job was to make sure that he had twenty-two of each item stacked on the correct shelf and the cleaning rooms stocked as directed. Even though he had a wire roller cart, this was not an easy job, for it took several trips to complete the task.

He was to use the master key to enter these storage rooms. His first day on the job, Mrs. Buchight had told him, Jamie, you’ll go straight to hell if you misuse or lose that key. The job paid $1.00 a week, but Mrs. Buchight gave him an extra ten cents. She and his mom were the best of friends, and yet his mom didn’t seem to know about the extra dime; Jamie had to presume this was their secret. Just about the best part of working there was that Mrs. Buchight was a great cook; she used plenty of spices, and the kitchen always smelled wonderful. If Jamie played his cards right, he would always have a tasty treat in store for him.

The Buchights had no children and lived on the first floor. Their large living area, along with the front office, lobby and laundry room, took up the entire floor; all the hotel guest rooms were on the upper floors. Mr. Buchight had his own business downtown and his wife ran the hotel that his grandfather had designed and built.

Old Carl Buchight had sold his prime six hundred acres of farmland, along with his grain business, to build the hotel. He believed that the railroad would provide a steady stream of customers so he sold out of the cyclical farm business and moved his family into town.

Although he had worked with a firm out of Chicago, Carl had been the prime architect for the impressive three-story hotel. A large porch spanned the front and south side of the hotel; the first floor had majestic twelve-foot ceilings and tall French windows providing daylight to a large lobby and front counter area paneled in clear maple. The large chandeliers hanging from the high white contoured ceilings in the lobby reflected off the snow-white marble floor. When first built, it was the latest in comfort and design; it included new electric lights with an electric outlet in every room along with hot water heaters. The hotel, known for its big coal-fired boiler system, provided its guests heat and hot bath water year round. The Buchights had meticulously maintained the hotel over the years; it was still a lovely place to stay.

Carrollton was a town originally laid out by the Chicago & Northwestern Railroad in 1867, where the nation’s East and West Coasts rail lines passed through. The coal and water refueling stations were available, along with fifteen-plus miles of railroad yards starting downtown next to the depot and expanding to the west of the town center, which was Main Street. It was on the south side of this railroad complex that the Buchight Hotel was located, built in 1891. It was the first large building people saw as they left the train depot. Around 1880, Carrollton also became the intersection for the Chicago Great Western Railroad running north and south through the country connecting major cities including Baton Rouge, Louisiana; Kansas City, Missouri, and Minneapolis and Duluth, Minnesota. This meant that rail transportation going east and west across the country now intersected with the north and south rail system in Carrollton, Iowa.

In 1940, Carrollton was still not much more than a small farm town, but because of its location, this small whistle stop was a major railroad-refueling stop and connection point to major cities along these two transcontinental rail lines. Every time a whistle screamed from one of the steam engines passing through town, you would see an old retired railroader pull out his gold pocket watch, check the time and say something like, Looks like the 10:20 eastbound is running late. It must be carrying a load. She’ll have to make it up on the Boone downgrade.

Another factor affecting Carrollton was that it was also the intersection of US 30 and US 71. Highway 30, known as the Lincoln Highway, ran from Times Square in New York City to downtown San Francisco. Built in 1913, it was the first transcontinental highway. Highway 71 went from Duluth, Minnesota to New Orleans. Both transcontinental railroads and highways intersected in this small Iowa town, providing an economy dependent upon farming and railroad commerce.

Carrollton also had two larger hotels, but the Buchight Hotel was located right on Main Street next to the railroad tracks, with a small eatery and bar next door called Nick’s. The older wood structure was a town landmark and in excellent condition, but it had no elevator. Location and the lack of that one modern amenity had helped it become the working man’s place for lodging, and since Carrollton was a railroad town, it always was populated with railroaders.

It was also an ideal spot for travelers wanting lower room rates and willing to climb stairs to get to their rooms. With much of the Midwest still struggling to recover from the Great Depression, the primary means of transportation for any distance was by rail. There was some bus service, but to travel by automobile was out of the question for the majority of people. Because of this, the Buchight Hotel would house a wide cross-section of lodgers on any given night. Some stayed for a night, but others would come and go regularly on a week-to-week basis.

Due to a touch of shyness that ran on his father’s side and Mrs. Buchight’s firm instructions, Jamie didn’t interact much with the hotel guests. Nevertheless, he had a charming way about him, and it was not long before some of the regulars or long-term guests began striking up conversations with him. Over time, Jamie’s curiosity overcame his reticence and he would listen in fascination to the stories about the larger cities, railroad accidents and old war stories that these visitors told. He liked his new job even more than his paper route, and hung around the hotel as much as possible.

JAMIE AND HIS BROTHER Al were at the Des Moines Register office picking up their newspapers around six o’clock the morning following the B-17 flyover. Because of his age and his first year as a carrier, Jamie had a small route of twenty-one papers. He checked the headlines, just as the other newsboys, before loading his bike and heading out. This morning's read: REPRISAL: BRITS BOMB BERLIN. Below the fold was a US Army news release about yesterday’s visit of a squadron of new B-17s to the towns of Carrollton, Iowa, and Grand Banks, Nebraska. One glance at the front page and Jamie hopped on his bike, saying to Al, Wow! I have to get this home to Dad before he leaves. After yesterday’s flyover, the townspeople were more aware than ever of the war in Europe, and the front-page news stories were going to be the talk of the town.

Reading about the British bombing Berlin, Al tuned to Jamie while he loaded his bike with newspapers saying, Dad is going to love reading about the Brits bombing those Nazi suckers. I hope they killed a bunch of them.

Better not let mom hear you badmouthing like that.

That Sunday evening’s radio program, The Voice of Firestone Hour, presented Kate Smith singing Irving Berlin’s newly revised song, "God Bless America. Jamie’s dad turned up the volume, and Jamie noticed nobody talking; everyone was listening to the music. His aunt, uncle and older cousins always came over for Sunday evening radio because, like many others, they could not afford one, so coming to Jamie's house had become a regular Sunday event, starting with FDR’s Fireside Chats".

Next was the CBS News, with Elmer Davis talking to Edward R. Murrow in London regarding the critical events following the May 10th invasion by Germany into Western Europe. The program ended with a four-month-old excerpt from the speech President Roosevelt gave to the Pan American Scientific Congress where he said, We come here tonight with heavy hearts; this very day, three more independent nations have been cruelly invaded by force of arms. I am a pacifist, but I believe that by overwhelming majorities that you and I, in the long run if it be necessary, will act together to protect and defend by every means at our command our science, our culture, our American freedom and our civilization. The thunderous reception from the audience continued as Jamie's dad reached over and turned the volume down to its normal level.

Jamie’s two cousins had been out of high school for two or three years, and both expected they would be part of the war going on in Europe, which was becoming a prevailing belief for their age group. During the break for commercial break for Lifebuoy soap, Jamie heard Irwin tell his brother Bill, They told us at Guard yesterday that Congress is holding hearings regarding selective service legislation. Jamie’s cousins did not know it yet, but a selective service law would be in effect by October.

Irwin, the older of the two, had joined the National Guard two years earlier. In 1938, the National Guard became a spin-off activity for the federal Works Projects Administration (WPA) programs. Jaime's dad always referred to the WPA as standing for Whistle, Pee and Argue because he said all he ever saw were men standing leaning on their shovels.

Irwin, along with many others, joined the Guard for some part-time employment and training. The Great Depression was still part of everyday life and work was hard to come by. During dinner, he told everyone, My Guard unit, the 168th, is waiting to be called up. Our commanding officer got the standby notice for possible activation from Washington last Tuesday.

Jerry, Irwin’s younger brother, said, I’m thinking about joining the Navy. I plan to avoid being cannon fodder like so many were in the last war.

Irwin responded, I am making corporal, and if the Guard is called up, I am going to try to be transferred to one of the new ranger units. They're not easy to get into but are asking for volunteers.

Jamie’s dad asked, Irwin, why in the world would you want to be part of one of those dangerous special units?

These units are difficult to train and develop into an effective fighting force, and because of that, the Army is not quick to waste them as they do regular Army troops. Irwin’s answer was a painful reminder that World War I was still fresh in the minds of many Americans, and few, if any, wanted to be part of another European war.

After answering a knock on the back door, Jamie’s mom returned to the living room telling everyone, Judy Lambert just came over with news that Dan had called to tell her he and the squadron were safe at a California air base, but could not disclose the location. She looked over at Jamie and Al, sitting on the floor next to the radio, and said, Get to bed! You two have morning paper routes.

Jamie muttered, Thanks to the long news hour, we didn’t get to listen to The Lone Ranger. Now we have to leave when the discussion about war is getting interesting.

Get to bed!

Jamie lingered at the top of the stairs, trying to unravel the conversations of the adults, and wondering what it was that he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Two

"A ctually, you are the best choice...

Meanwhile, in a very different part of the world, two International Red Cross workers traveled by train from Geneva, Switzerland to Nice, France where they waited for the Spanish ship, San Malaga, to take them the rest of the way. They had orders from Geneva to wait in Nice for the Spanish ship that was en route. Since its civil war was over, Spain had declared itself a neutral country willing to be of service to the International Red Cross Tribunal set up by the Treaty of Versailles.

After July 1,1940, it became difficult for anyone traveling in occupied France. The French government had capitulated to Germany twenty-two days earlier and a new regime was installing a completely new social order. Although they were wearing