I thought that time would fly by and I would be on my way. My sister cried and I announced my decision at work, much to the surprise of my co-workers. I waited eagerly for the big day to come.
Of course, things didn’t work out exactly that way. As usual, life took another turn, and I found myself waiting far longer for my orders to come than I had been led to expect. Several things happened in the meantime, including a move to another apartment that I shared with my sister, and a farewell party at the defense plant where I worked. But at last the telegram I had been waiting for came and I eagerly tore it open and read it. It was short and to the point.
“Be at 121 Milwaukee street at Eight O’clock A.M. on July 15th,” it read. “Bring only what you wear and your personal toilet articles. You will receive further orders there.” It was July l4th. The time had come.
The next morning my sister watched openmouthed with astonishment as I packed my things into a cosmetic case, stuffing in a few articles of intimate apparel as per instructions. I think she had been as skeptical as my cousins, but when I called a cab she knew I meant business, and tearfully bid me farewell. With a casual wave and a big smile, I was off.
I felt like a nun who was escaping the nunnery. I was on my way at last. While my cousins and sister had been kind, they were always watching over me, and no matter how hard I tried to be independent, I was still the youngest and so had no anonymity. It never occurred to me that I was going to be guarded, regimented and scrutinized as never before. I rode in grandeur in the cab all the way down to South Milwaukee and stepped out of one life into another.
There were about eleven or twelve other women there already, and I must say they were a motley lot. To tell the truth, I was somewhat taken aback by how lacking in distinction they seemed. Of course, as a 21-year-old, I viewed anyone over 25 as being over the hill. “Ye Gods!” I thought to myself. “They are all older than I am. I’m still the youngest! “ Two of them seemed to be about thirty-eight or forty, and I remember thinking with scorn that they would never be able to survive boot camp. I assumed of course that I could handle basic training with the best of them.
The room was empty except for some chairs arranged around in a semi-circle, so I took a seat and looked around at my companions. There was a murmur of voices in the background and one woman was blubbering because she had changed her mind, but they wouldn’t let her rescind her enlistment. One enlistee hadn’t arrived yet, and we waited around to see if she would come. I took another look around and was not at all impressed with what I saw.
We were supposed to have with us only a small case with our personal possessions, but several of the women had large suitcases in tow, and a couple were dressed as if for a formal affair, with hats, gloves, and shoes with high heels. All of them had on makeup and hairdos, and, except for myself, apparently thought they were going to a social function. There is a saying in the army that seemed apropo: In the army, you hurry up and wait And that is what we did.
It was hot and muggy and I was glad I was wearing a light suit made of a material known as seersucker. One doesn’t see this much anymore, but it was popular during the war, and even men’s suits were made of it. It didn’t wrinkle and was fairly cool. And as we waited and waited, I noticed that a couple of the women had taken off their shoes and gloves and hats, and were about as uncomfortable as one can be wearing a girdle and silk stockings. I was thankful that I had on ankle socks and clogs, and was holding up pretty well. The weeping woman had pulled herself together and was trying to repair her mascara and put on fresh powder and lipstick. We were about as uncomfortable as we could be.