The Baltimore Bitch

It was another hot and sunny day when a Major unwound himself from the passenger side of the jeep. I was standing at attention in front of Suzy and the kids, wearing the shirt pants and the A2 jacket that I'd worn bailing out of Beautiful Betty.

We exchanged salutes. He was a tall, skinny cowboy. The 45th was an Oklahoma National Guard unit. He said with a panhandle twang, "Welcome back to the Army Captain." I said, "Glad to be back Sir."

Of course, that was the last thing I wanted. It was a little bit of theater, all carefully arranged and rehearsed by Suzy and me to make it easier on the girls. We had gathered them together the night before in the great room and told them that I would have to go away. None of them took it well. But it just crushed Josette.

She ran to me and threw herself on my chest hugging me and crying. She said through her tears, "I don't want you to leave me. Just tell the army that you don't want to go Papa." How do you explain the realities of life to a sweet little child? Especially one who has seen her parents taken away.

I snuggled her and said soothingly, "I love you my little one and I would never leave you if I could avoid it. But I don't have a choice. I made a promise and you know that you can never break a promise. I'll be back soon."

That was the best argument I could have used with Josette. She looked at me with tears shining on her beautiful little face, snot running out of her cute little nose and said solemnly, "But of course, you can never break a promise." At age five, my Josette had more personal integrity than most adults.

I glanced over my shoulder at my six girls, King and Bernadette standing loyally next to them, and gave a little wave. It wasn't easy to say goodbye. But it would have been infinitely harder if it weren't for Suzy.

Every soldier has to know that they have a rock and anchor back home. I needed Suzy's strength to help ease Josette through whatever time we were apart. And I knew that Suzy would take care of my cherished little one if I didn't make it back.

When you love somebody, like I loved Suzy and Josette, it's impossible to talk about degrees of affection. They were both absolutely precious to me. They were all returning to Paris, where Suzy's wealth would guarantee the girls a happy life for as long as it took. I knew they would be safe.

I hopped into the back of the jeep and we drove for an hour down the first decent road I'd been on in France. We were going to the 45th's headquarters at Saint-Amour. The Germans were beating a hasty retreat toward Dijon. So, they didn't have time to vandalize any of the towns that they passed through. Hence, the Division CP was in one of the local wineries and it was quite luxurious.

The 45th's HQ Company processed me and I was told to wait until somebody from Lyon got there to pick me up. As I sat by myself waiting, it occurred to me that I had just dropped into another new life again. But this time I was a whole lot more heartsick than I had when I found myself dangling in that tree or riding into the unknown with a bunch of new recruits.

I had little to tie me to all those past realities. But I couldn't get the faces of Suzy, Josette and all the other little girls out of my head. In some ways it was reassuring. Since, I knew that I had finally found the place where I wanted to spend my life.

My return to the military was like waking from a pleasant dream into the bleak desolation of nature, red in tooth and claw. And I knew that there was no going back to sleep to dream again. Instead, I was bucked up the line for a couple of weeks to finally find myself at Charleroi as a replacement pilot in the 322nd Bomb Group.

They gave me a shiny, new Marauder. We didn't need to hide under olive drab anymore. The Luftwaffe had been effectively defeated. So, now we flew aluminum ones. The nose of the plane said, "Josette." I sent her a picture. I hoped she'd be excited.

I was the old man of the crew at almost twenty-three. None of the rest of them had been in combat yet and they were in awe of my history. I arrived just in time to participate in what people later called the Battle of the Bulge.

The Bulge is in the history books now. But all we knew at the time was that a shitload of panzers were headed in our direction and the weather was so crappy that we couldn't get off the ground to do anything about it.

Between the 101st's stand at Bastogne and the 82's solidifying the edge of the pocket at Namur, the Huns never got close. And once the weather broke, we bombed and strafed their retreating asses all the way back to the Siegfried Line. Afterwards, there were nothing but long lines of burned-out, smoking German armor on the roads leading east.

The strikes into Germany in the late winter and spring of '45 were mainly on the V1 and V2 sites. It was low-level and dangerous. But the Marauder was especially suited to do that work, particularly the four blister 50s down on the deck. The strafing left some spectacular explosions.

By that point, it was like a day at the office for me. It was obvious that the Germans were on their last legs. There was only the rare German fighter, which the P-51s had no problem dispatching. I never saw one of the Hun's new jets. They reserved those for the heavies.

We celebrated VE day by getting the utterly depressing news that we were being shipped to Okinawa. The Japs were still in the war and we were shifting all of our military resources in that direction. I sent the news of my bitter disappointment to Suzy. She returned words of encouragement.

Fortunately, the Army moves glacially slow. The summer of '45 dragged on while they crossed all the logistical "t"s and dotted the bureaucratic "I"s, that were required to get us more than halfway around the world. Then it was suddenly all over. We knew that it was due to some mysterious bomb. But all we cared about was that it was done.

I had enough points to be in the first batch rotated back to be demobbed. I didn't want to go back to the States just to be discharged. Since my life was over here now. But the Army's, the Army. I was trying to figure out how to get myself to Paris and my girls when I had a couple of visitors and that reshuffled the deck.

It was the middle of the afternoon in a clammy mid-August in Belgium, almost a year to the date after I had last seen Suzy and Josette. Most of the guys in the squadron killed time either horsing around or playing cards. I spent all my spare time by myself reading. I was trying to decide on a career after I was mustered out.

A squadron clerk banged on the door of my quarters, saluted, and said, "There are a couple of people at Wing HQ to see you, Major." Yes, I had been promoted. It was the consideration that they gave me for being held in Europe past the mandatory 35 missions. I was given a golden oak leaf and they got to continue trying to get me killed. It seemed fair to them.

I followed the guy across the tarmac, with curiosity eating at me. I didn't know anybody with sufficient pull to get me summoned to Wing HQ. So, who the fuck could it be? I spotted two familiar faces as soon as I walked into the building, King and Bernadette. King extended one big paw and said with a grin, "I have an offer for you."

*****

Everybody talks about April in Paris. I never understood why they do that unless they have a fascination with clouds and rain. To me, the best time to be in Paris is the early fall. It was a golden fall day. I was walking up the Rue Guynemer when four figures emerged from the huge wooden doors of a Fin d' Ciel townhouse and rushed across the street dodging the bicyclists as they ran.

Then they all joined hands and made their way up the tree shaded sidewalk. They paused and stepped through the iron fence at the foot of the Rue de Fleurus and into the Luxembourg Gardens. They seemed to be headed for the ice-cream stand just inside the gates.

Two of them were twins, brown haired and skinny, both approaching womanhood. One of them was a little blond beauty, with natural spunkiness just radiating off her. The fourth was the love of my life. Suzy hadn't changed a bit. She was still the exotically lovely, high spirited, inspirational woman I loved.

I knew from her letters that she had legally adopted the three girls. The parents of the older girls made it back from the death camps. But Edith, Charlotte, and Josette were orphans. So, in the fourteen months that I'd been gone Suzy had made them Milhauds. Money buffers you from most of the vicissitudes of life, and the Milhauds were among the richest families in France.

Paris, of course, had been declared an open city. As a result, it avoided the rampant destruction that most of the other major cities of Europe suffered. Hence, once she'd returned to her palatial home Suzy simply picked up life as it had been before the Germans came. Except now, she was the mother of twin girls and my dear little Josette.

The four of them were sitting on an ornate bench, under the spreading branches of one of the oaks that tower over the path leading to the central fountain. I came around the corner and started up that path. They were eating ice cream and laughing. Suzy seemed happy and content in the bright September sun.

Josette spotted me first. She always had an adult's situational awareness. I'd learned that the day she'd saved us at that French farm. Josette glanced my way, then she stared unbelieving. She dropped her ice cream, let out a blood curdling shriek of joy and rocketed down the path.

My little girl had grown a bit in the fourteen months that I'd been away. So, she nearly knocked me over when she threw herself into my arms, frantically planting kisses all over my face. I hugged her and said, "I'm home my darling girl." She said, "I love you Papa."

Suzy and the twins arrived a scant few seconds later. I'd shifted Josette to my right arm so Suzy could come into the other. But instead, Suzy shoved the twins under that arm. I got her point. They were also our children. I needed to remember that. Suzy had a lot to teach me.

The twins leaned their sweet little heads against my side and hugged me shyly while making small noises of happiness. They might not be as cosmically brilliant as Josette. But they were sweet humble and unassuming little girls, the very essence of salt-of-the-earth. I loved them too.

Suzy gave me a kiss over the top of the twins. It made them blush and Josette say, "Ewwww." Suzy's huge dark eyes were sparkling with love and something else. She said teasingly, "Bernadette already told me. Apparently, they're letting you out of the Army early for bad behavior."

I said, "Yes, they're forming this new outfit out of the old OSS called the Central Intelligence Agency. King got me a job with them. He said I had the right stuff to join their merry band."

Suzy hooked her arm in mine as we turned and walked back toward her townhouse. She said with a sly grin, "We have a lot of catching up to do." I didn't think she was planning to do much talking though.

*****

We were married the next day. There is supposed to be a ten-day waiting period after the banns are published. But this was 1945 Paris and Suzy was a Milhaud. So, what Suzy wanted, Suzy got, which was the Mayor himself to do the officiating.

The Paris Hôtel de Ville is right on the Seine in the Forth Arronddisement. It was another gorgeous fall day, perfectly clear blue sky and mild. But it could have been the middle of a Midwest blizzard for all I cared. I was the happiest man in the universe.

The wedding party made its way across the plaza toward the massive Renaissance confection that the Parisians call a City Hall, with the medieval splendor of Notre Dame hovering across the river to our right. It was clear that this boy wasn't in Wisconsin any more.

The wedding party was small. Suzy's parents weren't invited, by her choice. Apparently, they didn't approve of their daughter's free-thinking ways. Mine were on another continent. They would get the word in about a week.

My best man was actually a seven-year-old girl. But she was very brave. Suzy's two attendants were walking hand-in-hand looking awkward and uncomfortable in their fancy dresses. Their dark hair was in braids with bright ribbons and their skinny little legs ended in fine leather shoes.

King and Bernadette were waiting at the Mayor's Office. King was serving as my co-Best Man since somebody had to bring the ring. Bernadette and Suzy had bonded to the point where they were more like sisters than friends.

We made-up a very odd wedding party, a Marchioness and one of the hereditarily richest women in France on one side of the aisle, a former bar manager and a Wisconsin shitkicker on the other. In many ways it symbolized the shape of the new world going forward.

When the Mayor got to the part in the ceremony where the officiant asks, "Who gives this woman?" a couple of little voices said, "We do." They were holding each other's hands as they said it.

The Mayor turned to me and said, "The ring monsieur." Josette was sitting on one of King's huge arms now, looking for all the world like a bird on a tree limb. She leaned over, kissed me gently on the cheek, and handed me the ring.

An AAF Major makes a reasonable salary in this man's army. I had been saving my flight pay to buy something that would express my love. Suzy was rich enough to buy the mine that the diamond came out of. So, the ring wasn't ostentatious. Instead, it was a simple shining expression of my love.

King had been in Paris a long time. So, he knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy, who was a master craftsman. It was made like a woman's Renaissance love ring. The diamond was set in an intricately filigreed band containing all of our names interwoven in gold, even Natalie and Madelyn. The base of the setting said, "Eternal love," which was a statement of indisputable fact.

The Mayor said, "You may kiss the bride." I looked at Suzy's beautiful face and for a second, I had a flashback to the terrified woman I'd found hiding in an armoire a mere year and a half earlier. I said a little prayer of thanks to whoever was looking out for me and we had a chaste kiss. There was a lifetime of making love in front of us.

EPILOGUE

Life's funny. You just live it when you're a kid. It never occurs to you that those experiences are preserved in the synapses of your brain, like the exhibits in a museum. As you get older though, you'll sometimes find yourself browsing the displays and thinking about what it all means.

There'll be a few unhappy memories; a pretty girl who stabbed you in the back, the terror of exploding flak, or the rage you felt when you discovered just how dark the human heart can be. But if you're lucky, the bulk of those recollections will evoke a happy nostalgia, the feeling that you led a rewarding life.

My happiness sat squarely on the foundation of a good woman. Hence, I marked the beginning of who I was, as the day I literally dropped into Suzy's world. Even in our golden years, there are still no words to describe how much we loved each other. Of course, words aren't required, it's the innate recognition of that fact. Suzy was always at the center of my mind's eye, and I in hers. That knowledge was one of life's great joys.

But there are also the small pleasures that we use to measure out the days of your lives. For instance, there was the delight of giving sweet little Edith and her sister Charlotte away to another set of twin boys. It was a perfect pairing of unassuming souls. The girls' spouses owned a vineyard. They were unpretentious, hardworking, and honorable men, just as modest and decent as my girls. I couldn't tell any of them apart.

Humility and hard work had been the twins' trademark, from the time that I first met them. And both of them were blushing furiously as I led them up the aisle. When we got to the minister, they kissed me shyly on each cheek and said, "Thank you Papa." It brought a tear to my eye.

Finally, of course, there was my bright shining star. I counted Josette's love as chief among my many blessings. Most daddies have a pal. Josette was more like a partner in crime. Of course, she loved Suzy. But I was her guiding light. No daddy and daughter have ever been closer.

Josette had grown into a remarkable young woman, with a captivating beauty that was godgiven. Her fluffy blond hair was a thick wheaten sheaf now, it ran down to the middle of her back. Her face had retained its ideal proportions and perfect features and years of dance training had honed her into a sleek, athletic woman.

Josette was just as adventurous as I was at age twenty-three. But she was the new and improved version, smarter and more practical. She had a long-term view of life. And she was not going to compromise her principles simply to do what the other girls were doing. If she fell in love, all the better. But first and foremost, Josette was committed to making a difference.

My daughter was born an old soul. From the beginning, she was a bundle of worldly-wise awareness and shrewd intelligence wrapped in a little girl's body. It was as if she started out life as an adult. Whether that was due to her innate intellect, or a trick of her upbringing, or an arcane combination of both, Josette was always more cognizant than any child ought to be.

As for me - I'd spent the first few years after the war scooping up the former assets of the Third Reich. Those ex-Nazis all claimed to have seen the light. Nobody believed them. But we were willing to overlook any past indiscretions if they had something that we wanted, particularly if it gave us a leg up on the Russians.

The raw hypocrisy of Operation Paperclip was astonishing. Seeing the likes of Von Braun and his associates skate off to wealth and fame as founders of the U.S space program bothered me. Since, I could clearly recall risking my life in a frantic attempt to eradicate Werner's little pets before they rained down on London.

The same with Gehlen and his spy network. That snake profitably transitioned from finding and eliminating enemies of the Reich, to digging up and disposing of Commies. I know that realpolitik demands a blind eye. But my wife and three daughters were Jewish, and his network was mostly SS.

I finally decided that my soul was too high a price to pay to keep doing what I was doing. Suzy's wealth gave us the freedom to pursue any other worthwhile cause. So, together my love and I made a life decision. My wife was Jewish but secular, and I was a card carrying heathen. Hence, the choice wasn't based on religion. It was strictly motivated by the desire to be part of something new, vibrant, and fresh.

Accordingly, we emigrated to the emerging Jewish state of Israel. Suzy was a Milhaud. She had the historic family credentials, and the Israelis were willing to tolerate the likes of me.

We kept the Paris townhouse. But now, our permanent residence was a penthouse duplex in the Park Tzameret area of Tel Aviv. It was luxurious. The Mediterranean lay outside our floor-to-ceiling windows and a golden beach was a short walk across Independence Park. English wasn't a problem, since half the population seemed to come from Chicago.

Josette had just turned eighteen when we emigrated. So, she had mandatory national service just like every other Jewish kid. The fact that Josette could do aerobatics in a P-51 didn't cut any ice with the Israeli Air Force - being that she was a woman and all. So, my darling girl opted for her papa's other skillset - the Mossad.

A guy named King might have had something to do with my daughter's extraordinary placement. By then, he was the Director of the CIA's. Clandestine Service. So, King told Isser Harel that he had seen Josette in action, and in his opinion, Mossad needed somebody like her. King didn't bother to mention that Josette was only five at the time.