Nurse Kathy Rose is running away. She can't bear to live in the same neighborhood on the south side of Boston where she and her husband both grew up. Bill was dead, killed in a German POW camp after the Battle of the Bulge. So she packs up her bags...
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Mr. William Thompson 651 E 3rd St #1 Boston, MA
December 8, 1941
Dear Bill, It was the oddest thing, but I believe I knew what had happened before I heard the radio announcement. Of course, the president's official declaration of war was still a shock. All us girls here at the boarding house were huddled around the radio, weeping. Perhaps because, as nurses, we couldn't imagine the horror they must have suffered down in Hawaii at their hospitals. The imagination reels at the scale of the destruction.
I was on my way to mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel yesterday morning with a few of the girls. Namely, Jane and Cecilia. I believe I have mentioned them to you in past letters. We were walking down to the trolley stop, going past some of the foreign embassies like we do every Sunday. As we walked by the stately Japanese Embassy, with it's white, rod iron fence, locked gates, and cobblestone drive, we noticed something odd.
The embassy workers, some in suits and some in their traditional robes, were rushing about the immaculate front lawns like mad. They were eerily quiet, but papers were flying. Boxes tumbled out of truck beds. Even piles of folders being lit aflame on the drive.
I must admit, though I'll sound like a dolt, we didn't think anything of it at the time. Our country being attacked in such a manner was the last thing imaginable. Of course, I knew of Imperial troops invading China and the atrocities there, but I had believed that to be a conflict isolated to the Far East. I was so wrong.
So now, here we are. A nation at war. Like when our parents were young, before we were born. And now they are saying it is inevitable that we will become enemies of Germany and Italy as well. They are allied with Japan, after all.
I could kick myself for being so surprised. With the world going to pot around us, England being bombed and France occupied, how did I not see this coming? I suppose I wanted to stick my head in the sand and pretend otherwise. You know me, I enjoy my pulp crime novels. And the movies for a Saturday matinee when I don't have a shift at the hospital. Avoidance and escapism are a way of life for Kathleen Rose.
All my love, Kathy
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Miss Kathleen Rose 1352 Emerald Street Washington, DC
December 8, 1941
Kathy, I hope this letter finds you well. I heard from your ma and aunt that you spoke to them on the telephone long distance about what happened yesterday. They said you were crying and they begged you to come home and get a job at a hospital on the South Side. Somehow, I vaguely remember pleading the same thing six months ago.
Six months ago, you also said that you would think about what I asked you. I read the newspapers and listen to the radio and I can't help, but balk at how quickly things have changed. We are in a new world. But I cannot imagine weathering this storm with anyone, but you.
You were my first friend when my family moved to Boston from Worcester. Back in primary school, when you took my hand that first day and we walked to school together and I wasn't nervous because you were with me, I believe I knew it even then. You are my oldest and dearest friend. I cannot imagine this life without you.
I am signing up with the U.S Army this afternoon. After I mail this letter, I am going directly to the recruitment office when the line isn't so long. So I have to ask you again. If your answer is no, I won't bother you anymore about it and we can continue as we always have since we were ten years old.
