Hello again. I bring you the second part of Chapter 29 today, which contains the accounts of Shirley

Alcott’s experiences during the Second World War, with Walter Gavigan and Howie Alcott’s stories

interwoven, as they’re both important men in Shirley’s life.

For all the War Chapters, the warnings are the same: language, subject matter, and character casualties.

War is not pretty, so there are parts of these chapters that will deal with difficult subjects.

I think that’s all. Please enjoy Part Two of Chapter 29: The War Years.

Alice,

Here’s my contribution to your war memories project, or whatever it is you’re calling it. I’m leaving it up to

you to edit out what you don’t feel’s appropriate. Some of what Walt and Howie contributed is pretty

graphic, and there’s a few things that I included that you might not want to include. You know I’m not one

to censor things, unlike Mrs. Prissy Pants.

Hope you and the family are well. We should do lunch sometime – I feel like we never see each other, now

that the war’s over.

Love,

Shirley

Shirley Alcott rolled over onto her side so she could look at Walter Gavigan, who was lying on his back,

gazing at the stars. He was leaving for basic training in the morning, so the couple was spending the

evening on the beach. Shirley had been certain that he was going to propose to her, as Nick had with

Alice, but he’d had something different in mind.

She flopped back onto her back, internally cursing herself for losing her temper when he’d explained his

reasoning for waiting. Since their fight about why they should or shouldn’t become engaged before he left,

they’d mostly been silent.

“You done sulking yet?” he asked.

“Almost,” she replied with a small smile.

“Let me know when you’re done, but don’t take too much longer. Your dad’ll skin me if I don’t have you

home before midnight.”

“I think, given the circumstances, he’ll understand.”

“Not sure I’m willing to take that chance,” Walter smirked.

“Honestly, it’s my mom you need to worry about. She’s the mean one when it comes to disciplining Howie

and me.”

Walter smiled, and gestured for Shirley to come closer. She quickly snuggled up to him, resting her head

on his shoulder.

“Shirley, I know you don’t agree with me, but you have to understand where I’m coming from. My situation

is different from Nick’s; he won’t be fighting, and he won’t be on the front lines. I probably will be. You

don’t deserve to get one of those telegrams if something goes wrong.”

“No, but I don’t deserve to have to beg your mother for news either. You know she doesn’t really like me.”

“She doesn’t dislike you, Shirley. She just wishes that you were more…ladylike. But I don’t. I like you just

the way you are.”

“Seeing as how it’s your last night here, we can let the subject drop, I suppose. But you better believe,

mister, that as soon as you come home we’re resuming our debate,” she said.

“Thanks,” he replied, relaxing a little bit.

“So, where do you think you’ll end up?”

Walter shrugged. “SimEurope, somewhere. That’s where most of the army guys are headed, it seems.

Maybe I’ll get to help liberate SimFrance. That would be kind of cool.”

Shirley narrowed her eyes. “Looking forward to meeting a SimFrench girl?”

Walter snorted. “Shirley Alcott, you know you’re the only girl for me.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she said as she crawled on top of him and began to kiss him.

I knew it wouldn’t be any easier to let Walt go if we were engaged or not. It certainly didn’t help that we

ended up going all the way in the backseat of his car before he took me home. But I’d already made up my

mind that if he tried, I wasn’t going to stop him like I usually did.

Mom had already lectured me about the unreliable nature of any form of birth control, and reminded me

that if I were to “get in trouble” how that would affect me for the rest of my life. Didn’t change my mind. If

Walt was going off to war and facing death, I wasn’t about to send him off a virgin. In my mind, that was

handing him an excuse to run into the arms of a Simlish or SimFrench girl. And no way in hell was I doing

that.

That morning at the train station was the hardest I’ve ever experienced. Walt’s parents were there too, and

I had a sneaking suspicion that his mother knew EXACTLY what we’d gotten up to the night before by the

looks she was giving me. Then again, it could have just been her usual dislike for me coming through. At

least his dad was there to play buffer. Walt’s dad and I got along fine, but then again I’d always gotten

along better with the men folk than I had with women. He promised Walt that he’d make sure I had any

news they got from the army straight away. That made me feel a little better. If had been up to Mrs.

Gavigan, I wouldn’t have known anything until I heard it through the very active town gossip mill.

I managed to send Walt off with a smile before skulking towards Alice’s house. I knew she was packing

Nick up for a similar scene the next day, but I didn’t want to go home. If Mrs. Gavigan could tell what I’d

done the night before, I knew Mom would be able to in a second. I didn’t feel like facing another one of her

propriety lectures. It would be waiting for me soon enough.

Shirley unpacked her trunk in the boarding house with a heavy heart. Alice was no longer her roommate,

but she’d prepared for that since Alice had graduated already. But Rosalie wasn’t there to pick on either,

not since she’d decided to drop out and get married. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed her

cousin, even if the prim and proper young woman did drive her batty.

At least Dotty was in college now, having started her freshman year. She and the younger Bradford had

never been exactly close, but it was nice to see a familiar face on campus every now and then. Maybe

she’d have a chance to get to know her younger cousin a little better now. That thought gave Shirley the

strength she needed to hang her clothes up in the wardrobe and put her school supplies in the desk.

Her days soon filled with classes, papers, and schoolwork. When she wasn’t busy with academics, Shirley

was busy with Red Cross meetings (which Rosalie had roped her into) and writing to Walter. He’d finished

his basic training, and somehow ended up getting assigned to a military police outfit. Shirley had snorted

when she’d read that; it had Mrs. Gavigan’s fingerprints all over it. She was clearly trying to keep Walter

out of harm’s way for the time being, and using the Gavigan family connections to do so. Walter must be

thrilled that he’s still tied to his Mommy’s apron strings, she thought.

“What do you mean I’m not going to Simtaly?” Walter boomed.

“You forget your place, Sergeant,” the colonel replied.

“Yes, sir,” Walter immediately responded. “But I was under the impression that our unit was headed for the

fighting is, hence Simtaly.”

“No, Sergeant. You’re an MP now. Your job will be to make sure the GIs we’ve sent to Simland in

advance of the invasion are behaving themselves.”

Walter must have made a face, because he got a black look from the colonel. “Something to say?”

“Only that I was looking forward to shooting some Simmans, sir.”

The colonel cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, Sergeant. You’ll get your turn.”

Dear Shirley,

I’ve arrived safely where I’m supposed to be. I’m not allowed to tell you outright where I am, but I think

you’ll get an idea when I say they’re obsessed with tea (I’d give a year’s pay for a good cup of coffee;

there’s none to be found anywhere), and even though I’m told we speak the same language I’m not

convinced.

I’m sorry again that I couldn’t catch up with you before I shipped out. I only had 48 hours leave. Maybe it

was better that way. I’m not sure either of us would have been up to a goodbye like the one we had in

Simsfield.

I’ve kept busy so far, even if it’s not exactly what I pictured my role in the war being. I go on patrol to make

sure that all our Simerican boys are behaving themselves over here. For the most part, they do. But

sometimes, they can’t help rubbing it in that they’re better paid than the soldiers here. And that gets them

girls. Which makes them brag even more. You can see how it can get a little crazy kind of quickly.

How’s school? You must be nearly done by now. Any plans for the duration? Keep me posted and write

often. If it wasn’t for your letters, I don’t know what I’d do.

Love,

Walt

What am I doing to do for the duration? That was the question that was on everyone’s lips when they saw

Shirley. At first, she’d thought that she and Alice would end up doing something. But Alice had little

Steven to worry about now. Shirley snorted. As much as she loved her honorary nephew, she wished her

best friend had a little more time to spare for her.

But now, with Alice busy playing Mommy, Shirley was at a loss. Rosalie was trying to recruit her into

helping organize a Red Cross in Simsfield, now that the newly minted Mrs. Thorne was back with her

parents for the duration, but Shirley was not tactful enough to navigate the ins and outs of making the

ladies of her hometown play nice in the name of the war effort.

She thought about Audrey Lajoie, nee Pasang, who had delayed college so she could go on tour with the

USO. Last Shirley knew, the blond bombshell was on her way to entertain the ever-growing number of

troops in Simland. Maybe she could join the USO, and get sent to Simland which was where Walt was.

Shirley quickly shook the thought out of her head. She had no performing talent to speak of, save for her

vast knowledge of off-color jokes. Besides, her mother wouldn’t hear of her unmarried daughter going

anywhere further than Portsimouth without proper chaperonage.

There was the option of joining the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps like Nancy Phoenix, rather, Nancy

Hogan had. Shirley had run into her old acquaintance not too long ago and had been shocked to see her in

a uniform. Nancy had been happy to tell Shirley all about her new job over some cake. She was headed

to training shortly, and then would be stationed somewhere stateside doing clerical work. The pay was

good too, according to Nancy.

But still, it meant going away from home, which her parents wouldn’t like. Plus, it meant enlisting, which

Shirley wasn’t crazy about either. She’s be property of the Army for the duration plus six months, and if

something happened and Walt came home sooner, she wanted to be there to welcome him home. No,

becoming a WAAC wouldn’t work either.

Dear Walt,

Well, graduation is over and done with. Mom and Dad came, as did Alice, Dotty, Uncle James and Aunt

Cindy. Mrs. Thorne couldn’t be bothered; I imagine there was a bandage crisis she had to deal with that

was more important. I’m enclosing a snapshot of me in my cap and gown – don’t’ I look all smart and

stuff?

Before you ask, no, I don’t know what I’m doing for the duration yet. Mom and Dad (well, mostly Mom)

have been pestering me like crazy. I’m just at a loss. All of the options don’t seem to be a good fit for me.

I’m sure I’ll figure something out. Hopefully soon. I can’t keep giving Mrs. Prissy Pants excuses for not

being part of her Red Cross organizing committee.

All my love,

Shirley

A few weeks after graduation, I was bored. Mom was driving me crazy with her “what are you going to

do?” questioning, so I asked Dad if I could hitch a ride into the city with him when he went to work. I

figured I could pass a good portion of the day at the library and escape from the Inquisition.

The library held my interest for a few hours, but then I got hungry. I went into the diner across the street

from the library and ordered some lunch. When I was done and went to pay, I noticed a poster hanging

behind the counter.

“Find your war job,” I muttered, “Industry, agriculture, business.”

I left the diner, thinking. Business and working in an office didn’t sound like something I’d like. Neither did

agriculture, as I hated helping Mom with the victory garden. But industry, industry was something I hadn’t

thought about. And Silas Alcott, a cousin of the family, had a major stake in the Portsimouth Shipyard, and

they had just gotten a bunch of contracts from the War Department. Even though we weren’t exactly close,

we were still family. I was hoping that would be enough to get me into his office.

I still had a few hours before I was due at Dad’s office to go home, so I hurried towards the shipyard.

Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have been a journey that I would have wanted to take alone, but with the majority

of the men in the service, it wasn’t what it used to be. I quickly found the office of the shipyard, and went

inside.

An older lady was sitting at a desk, and she looked up when I came in.

“You here about a job, dear?”

I hadn’t expected for it to be so easy. “Yes, I am.”

“Wonderful. What’s your name?”

“Shirley Alcott, ma’am.”

She looked up at the Alcott name. “Any relation to Mr. Silas?”

I nodded. “Cousins, of some sort. My dad’s grandpa and his grandpa were brothers.”

“Well, that’s nice. Here’s an application. I’ll let you fill it out, and I’ll see if Mr. Silas can squeeze you in for

a quick interview.”

The whole scheme went better than I could have planned. Uncle Silas, as he insisted I call him, was more

than happy to take me on as a ship builder. He gave me a shift where I could catch a ride with my dad,

even, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about taking the train alone.

I headed off to Dad’s office, my step a little springier than it had been earlier in the day. I knew that Mom

and Dad would be a little apprehensive about my newfound employment, but I was hoping that I’d be able

to bring them ‘round.

“Absolutely not,” Viola said, her expression fixed.

“Well, it’s already set so there’s not much you can do about it,” Shirley retorted.

“Your mother’s just worried about how dangerous industrial work can be,” Sterling said, raising his

eyebrows at his wife.

“Look, I understand that you’re concerned. Both of you. But you’ve both been pestering me to find

something to do for the duration, and I have. And you’re complaining about it!”

Viola glanced at Sterling. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that he wasn’t quite sure what to

say. She then glanced at her daughter, who had the exact same set to her jaw. When Shirley got that look

in her eye, Viola knew it meant the younger girl had made up her mind and there was no changing it. Viola

repressed the urge to snort. She imagined she’d had a similar expression in her youth.

Sterling took a deep breath. “Before you rush into this, I want you to understand how dangerous factory

work can be. There have been reports of all kinds of accidents. I just don’t want to see you get hurt,

Shirley.”

Shirley’s faced relaxed just a little. “I know it can be dangerous, Dad. I do. But most of those accidents

happened in factories that produce munitions; I’m going to be helping to piece together new destroyers,

and occasionally repairing ones that come in damaged by U-boats. Plus, Uncle Silas isn’t letting anyone

near the ships or the riveting tools until he’s satisfied they’re fully trained. Besides, is what I’m doing any

more dangerous than what Howie or Walt are doing? If they’ve got the courage to face the enemy

firsthand, the least I can do is make sure they have the supplies to do it properly.”

Sterling opened his mouth to speak, but Viola held up her hand. “You have a point, Shirley. I’ll give you

that. Still, factory work of any kind is dangerous. I want you to promise that you’ll be careful, and that you’ll

go to and from the city for your shifts with your father, Silas, or Clarence. And if your father or I get the

slightest hint that something unsafe is going on in that shipyard, you’re done. Does that sound fair?”

Shirley nodded, knowing it was the best deal she was going to get. “I’m going to head up to the attic and

root around the old trunks up there. I need overalls or something like them to wear. I start on Monday.”

“Bring what you find down and I’ll help you fix them up.”

Shirley smiled at her mother as she turned to head up the stairs. “Thanks, Mom.”

Sterling watched Shirley vanish up the stairs. “You know, I’m the attorney and skilled negotiator.”

Viola slipped her arms around her husband. “Yes, but Shirley inherited my temperament. I think, in this

case, I was the more appropriate negotiator.”

Sterling pressed a kiss to the top of his wife’s head. “Fair enough, dear.”

Dear Walt,

What do you think? Do I look like the Rosie the Riveter poster or what? I’m learning to build ships. Sort

of. I’m learning to weld and rivet, but obviously until I’m better at it I’m not allowed to touch any of the ships

we’re building or that are in for repair just yet. Soon, I’m hoping.

There are a bunch of other girls working in the factory with me. I’m not actively making friends, but there

are one or two that I usually sit with at lunch break. Once and a while, we’ll go out after shift but that’s

pretty rare. Mom especially is insistent that I come home with dad, Uncle Silas, or Clarence. I kind of

understand why, gas rations aside. Even with most of the men gone off to fight, the shipyard’s still not in a

great part of town.

Has anything changed for you? I know you can’t tell me too much, but you can at least give me the “same

old same old” line and I know what you’d mean. I hope you’re not getting too bored, and that the Tommy

boys aren’t giving you too much trouble. And you damn well better not be keeping company with any

Simlish girls. If I hear that you have, you’ll have to answer to me.

If my letters get any less frequent, I apologize. Work is tiring, as is the Red Cross stuff Mrs. Prissy Pants is

making me do. I suppose that I should be helping with it, but Rosalie’s even more insufferable now that

she’s a Mrs. instead of a Miss. I know she looks down on me because of it. And Alice is busy, what with

Steven and all. So I just feel so alone sometimes. Maybe I should make better friends with some of the

girls at work.

Didn’t mean to end on a note like that. Overall, things are looking up, especially since Mom’s not

constantly bugging me about what I’m going to do for the duration. Hope things are good with you. I’ll

write again soon.

Love,

Shirley

Walter smiled as he read over Shirley’s latest letter. He was glad she’d found something to do for the

duration of the war. And in a strange way, it was right up her alley.

At least she won’t have to deal with her mom’s nagging anymore, he thought as he folded her letter and

prepared to go out on patrol, hoping that his night would be blissfully uneventful.

Dear Shirley,

You’ll never guess who I ran into last night. Nick. As in Bradford, son of James and Cindy, husband to

Alice. The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I’ve got to tell you, it was nice to see a familiar face.

I’d been out on patrol when we heard a ruckus coming from one of the many pubs there are. A couple of

GIs and Tommys had gotten into it over a few Simlish girls, and I got stuck in the middle of it trying to break

it up. I took a couple of good hits to the face and chest, and I won’t lie – it hurt. It hurt enough for me to go

to the hospital and get it checked out.

At the hospital, Nick was the doctor who treated me. It was weird in a lot of ways. I mean, he’s a real

doctor and all now. But he’s still Nick. Does that make any sense? I hope so.

Anyway, I’ve got a cracked rib and a cut near my eye that Nick had to stitch up. He says it shouldn’t scar,

but I’m not sure I trust the new doctor’s skills. I’m on rest for the next two weeks, and desk duty until the rib

heals up. No more patrols for me for a while.

Nick says to say hi, and to let Alice and his parents know that he’s fine. And he does look good, just a little

thin, but the food will do that to you. It’s okay, but it’s not home cooking.

By the way, can you send me a new photograph of you? When I was getting my head stitched up and

cleaned off, it was in my front pocket and it got dripped on. I’m sorry.

Love,

Walt

Shirley walked in the front door, exhausted. She’d stayed late at the shipyard and caught a ride home with

her uncle and cousin. She was looking forward to nothing more than a hot shower, a hot meal, and her

warm bed.

She stretched out the kink in her back, and realized that the blackout curtains hadn’t been disguising the

lights from the house as they usually did.

“Mom? Dad?” she called, flicking on the lamp on the hall table.

When she got no response, she moved into the living room, flicking on lights as she went. As she was

about to head up the stairs when she heard voices coming from her father’s study. She changed her path

and knocked gently on the door.

After a moment, the door opened and her mother greeted her with her finger pressed to her lips in a

gesture of silence. Her father was on the phone and his brow was furrowed.

“I understand that. But this is my son we’re talking about! The ship that he was assigned to was lost and

he’s been injured. I’m just trying to find out more details.”

Shirley started to gasp, but silenced herself with a soft squeak. She turned to look at her mother, silently

asking if it was true. Viola simply nodded, and put her arm around her daughter.

Sterling sighed. “Well, I’d appreciate a call if you hear anything. I don’t care how late it is. Yes, thank you

again.”

He turned to face the two ladies. “They don’t know anything more than the telegram did.”

“And what did that say?” Shirley demanded, raising her eyebrows as if to remind her father that she’d just

gotten home.

“Howie’s ship, the Simcago, was lot during a battle. The neighboring ships picked up survivors, your

brother among them. We got a telegram telling us that, and that he was wounded in action. We don’t

know any more than that. Since I’m on the draft board, I was calling in a few favors I had with the War

Department to see if I could find out anything more.”

“And judging by the expression on your face, you didn’t,” Shirley stated.

Sterling nodded. “They were…let’s say less than helpful.”

Shirley snorted. “Damn bureaucrats.”

Sterling opened his mouth to gently rebuke his daughter, but stopped when he saw the look on his wife’s

face. Instead, he went over and pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

“I wish I could be so certain,” Viola mumbled.

Shirley was inclined to agree with her mother, but she went and put her hand on Viola’s shoulder. “Well,

there’s nothing we can do, so worrying isn’t going to help.”

Viola nodded, and pulled away from the embrace. “I’m sorry, Shirley. You must be starving after your long

shift. Why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up, and I’ll have something on the table by the time you’re

done.”

Shirley shook her head. “I’m not really that hungry anymore.”

Viola put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, go wash up and then come downstairs for supper. You

need to keep your strength up to build those ships.”

Shirley gave her mother a salute, a smirk on her face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Half an hour later, Shirley came down the stairs freshly washed and scrubbed. She entered the dining

room to see that her mother had used some of their precious cheese rations to make Sterling and Shirley’s

favorite meal. She joined her parents and quickly devoured two sandwiches.

“I knew you were hungry,” Viola said as she collected her daughter’s plate.

Shirley opened her mouth to reply, but a huge yawn came out instead.

“Go to bed, honey.”

Shirley’s sleep that night was fitful. She keep seeing her little brother as he struggled to stay afloat in the

water, awaiting rescue. Except the water wasn’t the pretty, calm blue Howie wrote about – it was red with

blood.

As the sun began to peek through the blackout curtains, she got up. Knowing she had a long day ahead of

her, she headed downstairs to start the coffee.

She found Sterling, also still in his pajamas, nursing a cup of coffee at the dining room table. She poured

herself a cup, making a face at the fact that she couldn’t load it up with sugar the way she liked.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Still asleep. I don’t think she actually got there until close to dawn, so I left her alone. I figured I could

head into the city and see if I could find anything more out about Howie. It’s hard to say no to someone in

person, as you’re well aware.”

Shirley nodded, and took a sip of her coffee.

“Do you think…is Howie going to be okay?”

Sterling sighed. “I don’t know, honey. He’s a fighter, so I know he’s not going to give up. But without

knowing how badly he’s hurt…”

Shirley said nothing; there was nothing she could say.

Sterling rose. “I’ll knock together some breakfast if you’ll clean up, and then we’ll head into the city.”

“All right. Just don’t leave me a gigantic mess in the kitchen like you usually do when you cook.”

Dear Walt,

It’s been one of the longest weeks of my life. Ever since I got home to hear about Howie being wounded, I

don’t think I’ve gotten a decent night’s sleep. I wish we’d heard something, but news travels slowly from

the Simcific, I guess. I feel the worst for Mom; she’s been distracted so much that she can’t even paint.

Dad’s been working his many connections, looking for news. So far, we know that Howie made it onto a

hospital ship. That’s it. We’re hoping that he’s able to write himself soon enough, but so far nothing.

Nothing is the worst.

I feel horrible, dumping all this on you when I’m supposed to be the supportive girl back home sending you

good news to keep your spirits up. Well, how about this? My crew finished our 10th ship yesterday. We’re

all new at shipbuilding, so it’s a pretty big accomplishment. There’s still a lot more work to be done, but I’ve

no doubts that we’ll meet our quotas and then some.

Love,

Shirley

PS – He’s okay! Howie, that is. We finally got a letter from him. I’ll write more when Mom give me a

chance to read it.

Viola came rushing into the house, waving a piece of paper before her.

“It’s from Howie!” she exclaimed, causing Sterling and Shirley to look up from their reading and writing.

“It’s dated after the attack, so he’s all right.”

“What does it say?” Sterling asked.

Dear Mom and Dad and Shirley,

Before you ask, because I know you’re going to and because you’re worried, I’m okay. A little banged up,

but still in one piece.

By now, I’m sure you’ve gotten a telegram. I hope it didn’t scare you too bad. I tried to get them not to

send one, to let me write and tell you what happened, but I was informed it’s standard procedure. At least I

hope this letter doesn’t follow too far behind it. I’ll try to explain what happened, but I don’t know how much

the censors will let through. So if it’s full of big, blacked-out sections I’m sorry. But I figure you guys have

as much of a right as anyone to know what happened, so I’m going to risk it.

It started out as a mostly normal day. We knew that there was action coming, but we didn’t know how

close it was. We were able to take out a few Simpanese planes, but eventually we got torpedoed. The

ship was damaged, but not bad enough to sink us, just stop us. The rest of the fleet came to our aid, but

when you can’t move you’re kind of like a sitting duck. Everyone did what they could, but it wasn’t enough.

The Simpanese came back and we got hit four more times. That’s when we got the order to abandon ship.

One of the four torpedoes that hit us the second time around hit a little too close to where I was, and I got

hit with a bunch of debris in my leg. I couldn’t walk, but some of my shipmates dragged me out, into the

water, and we eventually got picked up by a destroyer. My ship sank about twenty minutes after the

torpedoing.

After discovering that one of my legs was broken, I got transferred to a hospital ship, and from there, we

headed for land. And let me tell you, land was quite the welcome sight after all my crew and I had been

through. I can’t tell you were I am, but know that I’m safe. They’ve done a formal evaluation of my injuries,

and I’ll be out of action for a while. From that, I get the feeling that it might be worse than they’re letting on.

Try not to worry about me too much; despite the leg injury I’m doing okay. Though if you could, I’d love

something to read; there’s not too much to do while you’re sitting around and waiting.

Oh, and Shirley? I’m sorry we lost a ship. I know it’s not one you built, but I’m sure you’ll have to make it

up by building a new one.

Take care, and keep writing. Remember, I’m okay.

Howie

After finishing the letter, Viola let out a breath she’d been holding since the telegram came.

“He’s okay,” Sterling said, taking her hand.

“What an idiot,” Shirley muttered. “Worrying about losing a ship instead of himself.”

“That’s your brother,” Viola replied. “I think I’ll ask Cindy if she wants to go into the city with me tomorrow

so I can get some books to send to Howie.”

After Howie was injured, things seemed to move by so quickly. Dad went to work, mostly drafting wills for

boys going across one ocean or another as he had for Nick and Walt and Howie before they had done the

same. Mom tried to paint, but mostly threw herself into Red Cross work as did Aunt Cindy, Alice, and

Rosalie. I went to work, placing rivet after rivet after rivet as we struggled to meet the War Departments

demands for more and more ships. Once and a while, I’d go to Red Cross meetings myself, but mostly I

kept my involvement to supporting whatever project Mom was working on at that moment. With Howie hurt

and Walt overseas, it was getting harder and harder for me not to resent the fact that Rosalie’s husband

was sitting in an office somewhere in Washsimton, safe and warm and not at all affect by the war other

than not being able to live with his wife.

I made friends with the ladies at the shipyard. We’d share news, trade luxuries, and compete to see who

could get the most done during one of our shifts. Like everyone else, I lived for war news. Things seemed

to be progressing in the Simcific, with Simpan getting pushed back closer to their homeland. In

SimEurope, however, the Big Push had yet to occur. Walt was back on his feet, busy breaking up bar

brawls again, chomping at the bit for the chance to play an actual part in the war. I didn’t blame him, but

after what happened to Howie I wasn’t eager to see him in the middle of the action.

It was early June, 1944, and a rare day off for Shirley. She was sitting by the small pond in the front of the

house when her father’s car passed by.

As Sterling got out of the car and headed into the house, he waved her over. She got up and hurried over.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Inside, I think. Why?”

Sterling said nothing, just gestured for her to follow.

They found Viola in the dining room, getting it ready for dinner. Sterling pulled out a chair for each of them,

and then sat down once they had.

“I’m home a bit early for two reasons. First, the invasion of SimEurope has begun. The allied forces

landed on the beaches of Simandy yesterday. They’ve got a good foothold into SimFrance now, but there

were heavy casualties.”

“Do we know any of them?” Shirley asked.

“It’s too early to tell, but I imagine that before it’s over we will.”

Shirley paled, thinking of Walter.

“Walter won’t cross the channel until they’ve got roads and such for his unit to secure. It will be similar for

Nick; he won’t go until they’ve gotten far enough inland for them to establish field hospitals and the like.”

“What’s the second thing?” Viola asked.

“It’s about Howie. His leg isn’t healing the way they’d like, so he won’t be seeing any more active duty

service.”

Viola sighed in relief. Shirley raised an eyebrow.

“I sense a ‘but.’”

“Because there is one. He won’t be put back on a ship, but he’s not coming home yet either.”

“Why not?” Viola demanded. “What’s keeping him from that?”

Sterling put on the face he often used when about to question a particularly difficult witness. “This cannot

leave the room; a lot of people, including me, could get into a lot of trouble if it does. Understood?”

The two women nodded.

“Howie is staying in Ausimtralia because of his Navy assignment. He was part of communications on the

ship, and he was involved with decoding messages and orders and such.”

Viola gasped. “Howie’s involved with intelligence?’

“Apparently. I guess his aptitude at math paid off.”

“But what does that have to do with him not coming home?”

Shirley snorted. “That’s easy to see. The Navy doesn’t want to lose someone already trained to read

code, and that’s not affected by a busted up leg.”

“Exactly.”

Shirley nodded. “Well, Ausimtralia’s safe enough now that the Marines have done their jobs, so I’m sure

Howie will be fine. As long as he doesn’t come back talking funny, he’s in as good a place as any for the

duration.”

“It would have been nice to have him here,” Viola muttered.”

“You know as well as I do that he would have been miserable here, sitting around doing nothing. This way,

he’s safe and playing an important role in the war effort,” Sterling replied.

“How did you find out about Howie, Dad?”

Sterling shook his head. It’s probably better if you don’t know the answer to that.”

Dear Shirley,

Ooo la la! Je suis en, uh, well, I can’t say où je suis, but I hope you’ll figure it out as you’re très intelligente.

Things are much busier now, though that must seem strange. Even though I don’t have to break up bar

fights because of bored GIs anymore, there’s still plenty to do. I secure roads that have been captured,

man checkpoints to make sure it’s just our guys passing, and stuff like that. All in support of our boys and

their march towards Berlsim!

Sorry to hear that Howie’s not coming home just yet. But I’m sure he’s doing important work. I’m glad you

were able to help your mom understand that. Things are turning in our favor, I think, and fast. With any

luck, it won’t be too much longer before there are a lot of happy homecomings to celebrate.

Let Dotty know that we’re marching towards SimParis, so her city of lights should be free before much

longer. If the Simmans haven’t left it in complete disarray by the time I get there, I’ll see if I can snag

something for her. And for you, ma bien-aimée. Au revoir, pour l’instant.

Love,

Walt

“Damn censors,” Shirley muttered as she refolded Walter’s latest letter. “If they think I can’t figure out he’s

in SimFrance on his way to Berlsim via SimParis, they’re dumber than I think they are.”

“Really, Shirley. Walter should know better than to write about sensitive details,” Rosalie chided.

“Does the Simerican government really think that the Simmans don’t know we’re marching towards their

capitol?” Shirley retorted.

“Would you two knock it off for once?” Alice snapped. “Can’t you even have a conversation without

bickering?”

Both Shirley and Rosalie looked at Alice, mouths gaping.

“I’m sorry,” Alice replied instantly. “I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s us that should be apologizing to you, Alice. We know how stressful the last few months have been

for you,” Shirley said.

“Yes, Alice. We’re both sorry.”

Alice nodded, and got up. “I should be getting home. Steven has far too much energy, and I hate to leave

Cindy with him for too long.”

Rosalie got up as well, and followed Alice out the door after giving Shirley a look that clearly indicated who

she felt was at fault.

After they’d gone, Shirley slumped against the front door. How had she been such an idiot? Everyone

knew that poor Alice’s nerves were shot as of late, but bickering with Rosalie was such second nature that

she hadn’t considered how it would affect her friend. Making Rosalie mad was fun, but Alice was so sweet

and kind, and never tried to get Shirley to be something she wasn’t. She’d have to do something to make it

up to her friend.

Dear Walt,

I know I’m supposed to write to you about happy stuff, keep your spirits up and such, but something

happened that I think you’ll want to know about before you come home.

Gilbert Seiff was killed in action on Iwo Sima. Aunt Calla’s devastated, obviously, and Uncle Taddy’s doing

his best to put on a brave face for everyone’s sake. Rosalie…well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I feel

sorry for her.

My bickering with Rosalie resulted in Alice snapping at us both – completely understandable given the

circumstances – so I’d been trying to play nice. Mostly, that meant avoiding her completely because we

couldn’t snip at each other if we weren’t in the same room. So it had been nearly a month since I’d actually

seen Rose when I got the news. And it had taken about that amount of time for the battle to happen and

the Seiffs to get the telegram.

I knew I had to do something to express my sympathy to her, so I did the only thing that I knew Rosalie

would understand – I cooked some food. It wasn’t fantastic, but it was something, and I did it all myself.

She accepted it without a snarky remark, and I knew she’d accepted my apology.

Walt, do your damnedest to wrap things up over there. This war had been dragging on for far too long. I

want you and my brother, and all the other boys I know to come home so we can get on with our lives.

Even working in the shipyard is getting to me, as it feels like I’m doing all this work and it’s not making the

slightest difference.

I should close this on a happier note. I just can’t work myself up to happy right now. I love you, and I want

you to come home. Soon. Now.

Love,

Shirley

It was an ordinary day in early May. Shirley had a cold, which had kept her from going into the shipyard as

she normally would have. Consequently, she wasn’t in the greatest of moods as she moped on the sofa

while her mother stood at her easel, dabbing away at her latest masterpiece.

Shirley groaned. “I can’t breathe; my nose is all stuffed up.”

Viola looked up. “Poor thing. I’ll go make you some more tea. The steam should help loosen things up a

bit.”

Shirley smiled weakly in thanks. This would be the fifth cup of tea she’d had that morning so far, and none

of the other ones had helped so far. Still, it was nice to have her mom take care of her like she had when

Shirley was a little girl.

The front door opened, and Alice let herself in, breathless.

“Alice?” Shirley asked as she got up from the sofa where she was lounging.

“It’s over!”

“What?”

“Simmany surrendered. Unconditionally. The war’s over in SimEurope.”

Shirley stared at Alice, unblinking. Then her mouth turned upward into the biggest smile she’d had since

the announcement of the bombing of Plumbbob Harbor. She let out a shriek of joy that might have been

heard in SimEurope itself.

From the dining room, the two ladies heard the crash of china.

Shirley blushed. “I think I owe my mom a new tea set.”

Alice laughed, the happy laugh that she’d had in college, and Shirley joined in as she bounced up and

down like a child would. It was how Viola found them when she rushed into the living room.

“What’s going on? Alice, I didn’t hear you knock.”

“I didn’t, Aunt Viola. I was at the store when James got a call from Uncle Sterling. He’d been trying to get

through for the past hour – the phone lines have been jammed because everyone wants to share the news

of Simmany surrendering.”

Viola let out a cry of joy. “It’s over, then?”

“In SimEurope, yes, it’s over.”

Viola threw her arms around Alice. “This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

“It really is.”

Alice extracted herself gently from Viola’s hug. “I need to go home and tell Cindy, and I’ll probably swing

by Rosalie’s and let her know as well. I’m sorry I made Shirley yell which made you drop the tea set.”

Viola shrugged. “It was Sterling’s mother’s, and I was never too fond of it. Now he’ll have to buy me a new

one.”

With that happy thought, Alice left.

Shirley followed her mother into the dining room and helped her pick up the shards of china.

“You know, this means the boys in SimEurope will start to come home soon. I imagine the ones that have

been there since the beginning will be pretty eager to get back on Simerican soil.”

Shirley felt her stomach flutter. “I hope so. I know Howie won’t be back until Simpan surrenders…”

“But Walter might be home before the year’s over. Have you thought about what that might mean for you?”

Shirley let herself think about that for a moment. “He said that we’d get married when he got back, but

beyond that…”

Viola nodded. “Well, make sure that he’s going to keep that promise.”

Dear Shirley,

I’m coming home.

No, you didn’t read that wrong. I’ve got my points (more than what I need, actually), and I plan on getting

the next ship back to Simerica that I can. I can’t wait.

The Army’s been trying to get some of us to reenlist, but I’ve had enough of the Army to last me a lifetime.

I can’t lie and say I wasn’t tempted. They dangled a three month furlow and three thousand simoleans in

front of me to reup for fifteen months, but I said no thanks; I’ve got a girl who’s been waiting for me for three

years and she’d kill me if I signed up for another tour.

Once I get back, it’ll be a few days at a separation center before I’m on a train home. I’ll send you more

details as soon as I have them. I can’t wait to see you.

Love,

Walter

After Simmany surrendered, things began to change around Simsfield. The first thing that happened was

at the shipyard. Uncle Silas called us into his office one by one. I had no idea what was going on in there,

but I could tell that it wasn’t good. Most everyone, especially the ones close to my age, came out with sour

expressions on their faces. When my turn came, I was weary, but I wiped the grime off my face as best I

could and went into the office.

“You’re FIRING me?!?”

“Shirley, there’s no need to shout.”

“Like hell there isn’t. I’m one of the best damn welders and riveters you’ve got, and you just said you’re

letting me go.”

Silas muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “This is what we get for letting

women into the workforce in the first place.” His words only fueled Shirley’s anger.

“Give me one good reason, Uncle Silas.”

Silas rubbed the back of his neck. “The war’s nearly over. Soon, the boys who have been overseas

fighting will be home, and they’ll need jobs. You girls have done a great job stepping up and filling in for

them while they’ve been gone, but it’s time for you to go back home and put your focus back on being

wives and mothers where it belongs.”

Shirley glared at him as she crossed her arms. “So that’s it. ‘Thanks, Rosie, but it’s time to put down your

welding torches and pick up your cooking pots again?’”

“Exactly,” Silas sighed, thinking that he’d gotten his point across.

Shirley picked up the lamp on the edge of his desk and hurled it across the room.

“To hell with you! And your damn shipyard. I’m not waiting for the work to dry up. I quit! Today. I’ll go

clean out my locker. You can bring my last paycheck by my father’s office.”

With that, Shirley turned on her heal and slammed the door as she stormed out.

She was supposed to catch a ride home with her father, but upon stopping at his office she found that he

was still in court, so Shirley left a message with his new secretary and took the train home.

As the train gently rocked her, the gravity of what had happened and what she’d done began to sink in.

Shirley wasn’t much of a crier, but she gave into her tears that afternoon. She ignored the mixture of

puzzled and sympathetic looks she received from her fellow passengers. What did she care what they

thought? It wasn’t as if she’d be taking the train anymore; she no longer had cause to go into Portsimouth,

as far as she was concerned.

Viola was painting when Shirley walked into the house. Upon seeing the state her daughter was in, Viola

dropped her paintbrush, thinking the worst.

“No, everyone’s fine. Except me. Mr. Alcott’s firing all the women who’ve been working for him so he can

give the jobs to the boys returning home. He said I’m supposed to be happy that I can go back to being “a

wife and mother.’”

Viola made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I never did like that cousin of your father, and

this proves I was right not to.”

Shirley cracked a small smile. “That’s not all. I…may have lost my temper.”

Viola raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose your temper? Never. What did you do?”

“Threw a lamp at his head.”

Viola doubled over from laughter. “Serves him right. Wait until your father hears about this.”

“He’s not going to be mad at me?”

“I doubt it. He and Silas never were what you would call close, and Sterling suspects that he may have

paid off the doctor who diagnosed Clarence with a weak heart.”

Shirley was shocked by that revelation. “What a bastard.”

Viola gave her daughter a look that clearly said what she thought about the language she had just used,

but said nothing. “He can’t prove anything, of course, so keep that to yourself.”

Shirley nodded, and sank down onto the sofa. “So, now what do I do?”

Viola sat next to her. “First, you go upstairs and get cleaned up. Then, you start planning a homecoming

party for Walter. I was going to surprise you with this at dinner, but I think you need the cheering up now.”

Viola handed Shirley a scrap of paper. A telegram. From Walter. She read quickly with hungry eyes.

“He’ll be home next week!”

Shirley stood on the train platform, a few steps away from where Cordelia and Harris Gavigan stood. She

was anxiously waiting for the train to pull in, bringing Walter home. He was the first of the Simsfield boys to

come back, and the town had wanted to go all out for him. But Shirley, with the help of Cordelia, had

convinced them that the best thing to do would be to let his family greet him at the train station, and have a

bigger party for the whole town when more of the boys came home. Shirley couldn’t believe that she and

Cordelia had agreed upon something.

The sound of a distant whistle caused the whole platform to come to attention. The train was approaching;

their boys would soon be home.

Everything suddenly seemed to move in slow motion. The train came to a stop, brakes screeching. The

doors opened and boys in various military uniforms began to spill out. Harris began waving, trying to catch

someone’s attention. And then there he was. Walter.

As he hugged his mother and father hello, Shirley took a moment to study him. He looked mostly the

same, a little thinner and there was that faint scar from Nick’s stitches on his forehead only noticeable

because she was looking for it, but he appeared to be the same person she’d sent away all those years

ago.

At last, Walter move away from his parents to stand in front of Shirley.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied.

“Is that the best you can do?” he asked, smiling.

“Well, your mother is watching.”

“To hell with what she thinks.”

“I brought you something back from SimFrance,” he said when they finally pulled apart.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“It’s in my bag. Give me a second and I’ll get it out.”

He dropped to the ground and began rooting around in his duffel bag.

“Here you go,” he said.

Shirley gasped. “Walter Gavigan, is this what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s an engagement ring, then yes, it’s what you think it is.”

Shirley grabbed the ring out of the box and put it on her finger.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time putting it on,” he smirked.

“It took you long enough to ask,” she retorted.

Viola was ecstatic. Not only was her daughter getting married at last, but her son was home at last. His

homecoming had been more than she had hoped for, as it turned out he’d met an Ausimtralian girl, married

her, and brought her home with him.

“I still can’t believe you deprived me of seeing you get married,” she scolded gently.

“And I told you that she couldn’t travel with me unless she was my wife. Logistically, it made sense to get

married there. When Shirley and Walt get back from their honeymoon, you can throw us a party. That way

everyone can meet Jessica.”

The night before the wedding, Shirley found her way up to the attic to escape the last minute details and

scrambles that were going on downstairs. She really wanted to see Walt, but her mother was insisting that

it was bad luck to do so.

As Shirley leaned against the wall and stared out the window, she was startled by the sound of someone

opening the trap door.

“Sorry, just me,” Howie said. “Mom’s run out of wedding stuff to worry about and started to fuss over me

and my leg again.”

“Pull up a box; she never comes up here anymore.”

The brother and sister sat together in silence for a while. Absently, Howie began to rub his leg.

“Does it still bother you?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “The rain today didn’t help. At least I don’t need the wheelchair or crutches

anymore.”

Shirley nodded. “That would be difficult, living here with all the stairs.”

Howie turned and looked out the window. Shirley followed his gaze; he was watching the lights in the Seiff

household.

“It still doesn’t seem real that Gil’s gone,” he said softly.

“I know.”

Howie was silent for a long time before he spoke again. “I almost wonder if it’s better this way.”

“Huh?”

“When I was in the hospital, there were guys, Marines, who’d been fighting the Simpanese firsthand. They

were…they were different.”

“What do you mean?”

“They had this, I don’t know quite how to say it, haunted look about them. I know they kept a lot of it from

you back home, but the Simpanese used brutal war tactics. Some of the guys that saw too much of it

cracked.”

“Oh.”

“So I wonder if it isn’t better that Gil didn’t survive in some ways. He doesn’t have to live with those

memories, unlike some of his comrades.”

Shirley frowned, and Howie shook his head.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re worried about what Walt saw. Well, let me tell you this: the Simmans

were gentlemen compared to the Simpanese. I’m sure he saw some pretty horrific stuff, but nothing as

bad as what those of us in the Simcific did.”

“It just made me think, there’s so much I don’t know about him. He’s hardly talked about the war at all

since he’s been home.”

“Well, he’s only been home about a month, so I wouldn’t be too worried about that.”

“But what if he’s changed?”

“Shirley, he has changed. War does that to a man. But the important stuff hasn’t, like the fact that he

wants to marry you. The rest, you’ll figure it out as you go.”

Shirley kept her brother’s words in the back of her mind as she marched down the aisle towards her future

with Walter the next day. She couldn’t help the huge smile that was on her face; she’d imagined this day

for so long and it was finally happening. All those long days and sleepless nights worrying about Walt

hadn’t been for nothing. Soon, she would be Mrs. Walter Gavigan. The thought made Shirley’s step move

a little quicker.

It didn’t hurt that being a Mrs. at last would put her back on equal footing with Rosalie, either.

* * * * *

That’s the conclusion of part two of the war years chapter. I hope you liked it. It was a lot more fun to write

a chapter with a happy ending this time!

Shirley’s a lot of fun as a character, and I had a great time writing her. Considering how much of a tomboy

she was in her youth, it only made sense to have her be my Rosie the Riveter.

During the war, the percentage of woman working outside the home increased from roughly 25% to about

36% (depending on what source you look at). Women were told it was their patriotic duty to go to work, so

they did. Some did factory and industrial work, as Shirley did, while others took clerical positions, joined

the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps, the Women’s Airforce Service Pilots, and the Women Accepted for

Volunteer Military Service. Shirley won’t be the only member of Generation 7 who goes into the workforce.

I made Walter an MP because he ended up pretty low on the randomizer list. I know I was horrible for not

getting him and Shirley married before he went away, but not every couple rushed into marriage before the

man shipped out.

Howie’s ship is based of the Chicago, a destroyer that was sunk in 1943. He was one of the ones who

came up as wounded when I ran the randomizer.

Credits

I had quite a few guest stars this chapter. In the top row, we had Ray Geebiv from Annie, Captain Cook

Penguinio from Pen, Riley Wheedon from Rose, Daniel Wheedon also from Rose, Stanley Legacy from Di,

Maddie Doran from the Boolprop RR generation 8 and Erin Devereaux from Ang. They were all fantastic!

Next up is the biggie – Nick & Alice’s chapter. Considering I’ve got most of it planned, I hope to have it out

soon.

You can leave comments on the Bradford Legacy thread at Boolprop, on my Live Journal, or on my

Dreamwidth, whichever you prefer.