The next morning I hurried over to the mess hall to report for duty, hoping to get an easy assignment, like peeling potatoes or setting up the tables. No such luck! I was assigned to pots and pans, the least desirable duty of all, except for cleaning out the grease trap. The pots and pans were great, heavy things and to my dismay I saw that they had been left over from the night before and were greasy and crusted with food. Luckily, they had been dragged out to the side of the mess hall, and laid on their sides on a wooden table. The only way I could clean the insides was to crawl into them and scrub them out with a stiff brush. I was wearing my fatigues and field cap, with my hair shoved up out of the way and no makeup on. In short order my uniform was wet with suds and water, and I was looking like something the cat dragged in. And that was when I heard a teasing voice just outside the fence. "You'll have to scrub harder than that," a voice said. "Don't forget we have a date tonight."
Wonder of wonders, it was he, even more handsome in the sunlight than he had been in the gloom of the evening before. He shoved a mounds candy bar in to me through the fence, and strolled in the direction of the day room. I vigorously applied myself to the task at hand and finished the job in the early afternoon. To say I moved with the speed of light to shampoo my hair and take a shower, would be an understatement. Dressing in my starched and pressed khaki uniform, I brushed out my wet hair and applied makeup, trusting the ourside air to dry my hair soon. And headed for the day room.
Outside the door, I hesitated , opened the door a crack and peered in. My love was there, tinkering with the coke machine and surrounded by what looked like a bevy of females in uniform. The machine hadn't worked for weeks, but as he fiddled with it, it suddenly went into action, spewing out coke bottles in a stream. As fast as he could, he caught them and handed them out to the squealing women. Then, with a clunk, it stopped and yielded no more. He turned to me, and with a lift of his eyebrow and a mischievous wink, he handed me the last bottle. We turned and went out into the warm soft air and fading light of an evening in Dallas.
That was almost sixty-three years ago. I still don't know what he saw in me.
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3 comments:
Aw, what a great story! Obviously he saw many wonderful things in you...63 years is something to be proud of!
Thank you, randi. People ask me how we lasted together for so long, and I tell them that it takes a sense of humor and determination. There have been ups and downs, and moments of tragedy, like in every marriage, but i can honestly say I never met another man who attracted me like my husband. I did meet a man whom I admired greatly, but it was for his intelligence and courage and not in any romantic way whatever. I studied under him for several years, until his demise a few years ago. He was the most intelligent person, man or woman, whom I ever met. Thanks again for your comments. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.
Glad you continued your story... I was on tenterhooks! New romance is such fun and so exciting. That's great that you have been together for so many years. I'm sure you've had your share of adventures together!
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