Julia, page 6
“Can you come home to see us?” Dort continued.
“I’m planning on it,” Julia said. A soldier appeared in the doorway. Seeing that she was on the phone, he nodded, then stepped into the hall, likely waiting for his turn.
“We have a couple of days’ leave coming up,” Julia continued. “We’re in the middle of lectures.” It was all she felt she could share with her sister. Julia didn’t mention how they’d been practicing how to use gas masks and evacuate ships by climbing down ropes over the side.
“Sounds quite dull,” Dort teased.
“Oh, lectures are always a hoot,” Julia said.
“Well, come on home when you can,” Dort said. “It will be a nice change from the revolving door of widows visiting Pop around here. He’s the prime catch of Pasadena.”
Her father scoffed. “I can’t very well be rude.”
Julia smiled, even though no one could see it. “That’s worth coming home for. Fill the ice box with food. The army rations are lacking.”
A couple of days later, Julia and her new friends were able to take two days of leave while the converted cruise ship underwent final preparations to become a troop transport. They arrived at her father’s home in Pasadena, and Dort was delighted to see everyone. They spent the next two days telling stories, eating everything they could, and laughing late into the night.
The time came all too soon, and on March 8, they reported to Wilmington to board the SS Mariposa, wearing their army fatigues. Julia brought along a gremlin good-luck charm in her pocket, which Dort had given her. Julia named it Chester. They climbed out of the bus that had brought them, then shouldered their canvas military packs containing a bedroll, a pith helmet, a gas mask, and a canteen. It seemed like half the city had turned out to give them a rousing send-off. A band played cheerful music, and soldiers and sailors turned to see Julia and her friends approaching the dock among whistles and wolf calls.
“Thank the stars, there are more women,” Ellie said, beads of perspiration standing out on her forehead from the weight of the canvas pack.
A group of six women wearing fatigues stood together on one side of the dock. One of them waved, and Julia said, “Looks like we’re supposed to meet them.”
They all made quick introductions, and Julia tried to commit their names to memory—Virginia Durand, Rosamond Frame, Virginia Pryor, Louise Banville, Mary Nelson Lee, and Jeanne Taylor. Three of them stuck out: Virginia Durand, Rosamond Frame, and Mary Nelson Lee.
“Since we have only nine women compared to three thousand men,” Julia began, “maybe we should spread the word that we’re traveling missionaries.”
Cora smirked. “I’m game if everyone else is.”
Ellie touched the curls that peeked out from beneath her beret hat. “That would be wonderful.” Her gaze shifted. “Oh, look, it’s the captain of the ship.”
Sure enough, a man in a decorated navy uniform approached and shook hands all around. Then he stood, hands folded behind his back, and surveyed the small group of women. “Your group will be in cabin 237. The fit will be tight, but we’ve accommodated with three triple-decker bunks.”
Julia felt like laughing until she realized the captain was completely serious. The other women were quiet—probably too stunned to speak.
A couple of sailors approached, their uniforms pressed and speck-free.
The captain introduced the sailors, who were to escort them to their cabin. Julia was grateful for the escort because the sailors had no problem clearing the way for them to make it below decks.
When they entered the cabin, Julia drew in a breath as she gazed about. There were indeed three triple bunks in a room that should fit only two cots. One corner was a bathroom of sorts, containing one tub, where they’d have only salt water to bathe in, one sink, and one toilet. Life jackets hung on a row of hooks near the cabin door. A couple of bureaus stood against the far wall, and Julia calculated that they’d each get one drawer to themselves.
“How long is this voyage?” Rosamond Frame asked. She was a petite, dark-haired woman.
Cora tossed her canvas bag onto a lower bunk. “Thirty days, girls. Time to settle in.”
Julia set her stuff on another of the lower bunks. She figured her age gave her some perks.
Ellie crossed to the single porthole that looked out to the sea beyond. “I hope I don’t get seasick.”
“Well, if you do, I’m sure there will be plenty of others who will commiserate,” Rosamond said. “I don’t imagine many of us have been to India?”
“I’ve heard stories.” Virginia fluffed out her hair in front of the lone mirror. “By the way, call me Peachy. Virginia is such a stuffy name. Anyone else have nicknames?”
“I’m Ellie,” Ellie said. “I won’t answer to Eleanor.”
Everyone laughed.
“I prefer Rosie,” Rosamond said. She’d already taken out her compact and was touching up her lipstick.
Julia sat on the edge of her bed to give the others more room to move about and start unpacking. She could wait a little while. The women unpacked and debated on where to place certain items. Julia supposed they’d all be close friends by the end of thirty days. She’d lived with roommates before, both at Katharine Branson School and Smith College, but this would be a bit more intense than that.
“If anyone wants to get a head start in learning Chinese, I’m offering lessons,” Rosie said. “I speak Mandarin, Cantonese, and French.”
That caught Julia’s attention. She’d taken years of French in high school and college but hadn’t excelled past the awkward phrasing stage. “I’d love to learn some Chinese.”
“Me too,” Mary Nelson said.
Rosie flashed them a smile. “Excellent. You’ll both have a spot in the class.”
With a good deal of fanfare, the ship embarked, Julia standing at the railing with the other women, the brisk wind tugging at their clothing. They waved to those on shore, and Julia’s heart felt a little pinch. Not that she expected anyone from her family to be there to see her off but that she was leaving her beloved country—for who knew how long. She could only imagine what was going through the sailors’ and soldiers’ minds.
So many fresh faces surrounded her, boys ten years or younger than herself. It wasn’t hard to pick out those destined for OSS jobs—they were the older men.
“Is this spot taken?” a male voice asked, primly accented.
She turned to look over at the man who’d joined her at the rail and found she had to look up—a rare thing indeed. The man was probably six foot five and was as skinny as a beanpole.
“Gregory Bateson,” he said, extending his hand, his accent definitely British.
She guessed him to be OSS.
“I’m Julia McWilliams, file clerk.”
That earned a laugh from the man. They both knew what that meant. “Where you from, Miss McWilliams?”
“Why, just down the road in Pasadena, although I’ve been in DC for the past year working.”
Mr. Bateson nodded. “Ever been to India?”
“No. What about you, Mr. Bateson?”
“Call me Gregory. We’ll be chums soon enough.” He leaned on the rail and lit a cigarette, looking toward the fading stretch of California coastline. “My wife, Margaret, and I have been to India a few times, as well as New Guinea and Bali. She speaks Malay, so that came in handy. She’s home in England with our daughter, Mary, who’s four years old.”
Julia was impressed. “What took you on all your travels?”
Gregory glanced over at her, the wind tugging at his hair. “I’m an anthropologist, and we were studying the effects of outsiders on the islander culture and people.”
“Interesting,” Julia said, and it was. Cora was the first anthropologist she’d been around, and at the moment, Julia was feeling a bit undereducated. “Do you speak Malay or any foreign languages?”
“You mean besides proper English?”
She laughed.
“Not well, although I hope to change that with this trip.”
Julia brightened at this. “My roommate Rosie Frame is teaching Chinese. You should join us.”
Gregory straightened from the railing and turned toward her. “I think I will. Thanks for the invitation, Julia.”
Pleased that she’d contributed something, at least, happiness bubbled up inside her.
Chapter 6
Pacific Ocean
March 1944
“In one day I would be asked to identify bombing targets in Southeast Asia; produce a plan to weaken the Japanese economy on the home front; assess political changes the Japanese occupation army had made in Indonesia! More often, we spent days poring through masses of material, to find one clue that would tell us, for example, that the enemy’s war machine was short of tungsten, vital to armament production.”
—Patricia Barnett, OSS Staff, Southeast Asia
“Our voyage is haphazard on purpose,” Gregory Bateson informed the gathering of men and women who were eager students in Rosie’s Chinese language class. They’d picked an open spot on deck, which was sometimes distracting with all the activity. Chinese was coming along mind-numbingly slow, at least compared to Gregory and the others.
“Japanese submarines have sunk nine troop transports,” Gregory continued.
The news shouldn’t have been surprising to Julia, but it was—mostly because she was literally on a troop transport—despite its previous status as a cruise ship. Her ship comrades discussed this at length, and Julia marveled at how she’d become part of this intellectual, academic group. She’d been intrigued by all their discussions, especially Gregory’s discussions on the relationships and connections between societies, national character, and genetics.
She’d discovered that Gregory worked for the OSS division of Morale Operations and was tasked with developing psychological warfare, something the British had been doing for years. It all sounded fascinating to Julia.
To pass the time on the voyage, Julia had joined the newspaper staff, which earned her a place at the center of all the gossip and otherwise inside information on how some of the sailors really felt about the war. Julia did her part and wrote up sketches of the women for the newspaper, which fostered an abundance of comments and attention—for better or for worse. The one woman who didn’t mind attention was Rosie. In fact, Gregory had called her a little minx behind her back, and Julia could see why. Rosie flirted with every man she came across—which was a lot. If Rosie were a flower, she’d be a rose, and Julia would be a dandelion.
“I’m always up for an adventure,” Rosie chimed in. “Did I ever tell you the time that my parents gave me two thousand dollars and told me to make my own way to Switzerland, where I attended school?”
Julia had heard the story before, but she didn’t mind a repeat. Rosie had been raised mostly in China, where her father worked as a Christian college dean. Julia found Rosie’s personality charming. All the men did, too—married or not, most seemed to be a little in love with her.
“After Switzerland, I attended school at Heidelberg University, followed by the University of Chicago.”
“So now you speak English?” Gregory quipped, and everyone laughed.
Rosie only smiled her endearing smile.
“We’ll be docking in Australia tomorrow,” Gregory told their group, “if anyone needs a change of scenery from the endless blue ocean.”
Rosie heaved a happy sigh. “Finally, we can wash our clothing with fresh water. No more dipping things into sea water collected in our helmets.”
Gregory chuckled, and the conversation veered to what they might do for their brief stop in Australia.
The following day turned out to be a glorious event indeed. Julia followed her friends off the ship, her legs making her feel like she was a toddler learning to walk. Not only was Julia fascinated by her brief visit to Australia, but their cabin was also strewn with newly washed clothing. No one even minded the drying lines. The next items they’d be dressing in would be fresh smelling.
Visiting Australia reignited her excitement for touching land again—even if she’d heard plenty of stories about the rough living conditions of Calcutta. They had to be better than sharing a single room with eight other women. Still, she’d miss the long days filled with endless sunshine, the rising and falling of the seas that sparked her imagination, and the intellectual circles she joined, comprised of the brightest minds she’d ever encountered. Where else would she be able to learn from scholars, photographers, economists, cartographers, historians, and anthropologists all in the same day?
And no matter the inconveniences of living on a ship, the gorgeous sunsets that lasted for what seemed like hours, and the night sky filled with millions of stars took her breath away time after time. She knew deep down that she’d embarked on the greatest adventure of her life, and she was ready for it.
A few days before they reached the India coast, a military escort came to lead the ship in. That knowledge only upped the anxiety among most of the women, but Julia figured that if they’d all survived this far, surely they’d make it all the way to Calcutta.
Cora came into their cabin as everyone was preparing to turn in for the night. “The ship’s being redirected.”
“What’s happened?” Ellie asked.
Julia swung her legs over her bed and sat up.
“New orders are sending us to Bombay,” Cora said. “That’s all I know.”
“Bombay?” Julia echoed, trying to remember all that she’d heard about Bombay from their shipmates.
The next couple of days were filled with discussions and theories about the redirect to Bombay. All anyone knew was that they’d sit tight in Bombay until the orders came in, then they’d be located to their new assignments. Finally, after thirty-one days at sea, the ship neared their destination. Julia was nursing a bad cold, but she resolutely stood between Peachy and Gregory at the railing, with practically everyone else on the ship, as they watched the nearing shoreline.
“What is that hovering over the shoreline?” Julia asked.
“Haze,” Gregory said. “Can you smell it, or are you too stuffed up?”
Julia grimaced. “Is that what I smell? I thought someone was smoking behind us.”
“It’s a combination of India’s blowing dirt, their leafy cigarettes, and their endless burning of incense.”
“It’s awful,” Peachy commented.
Julia wouldn’t go that far. Perhaps she was too fascinated, but her eyes began to water the closer they grew to the shoreline. “What have I gotten myself into?” she murmured as she wrapped her fingers around her good-luck charm, Chester.
“Amen,” Peachy said.
When it was finally time to disembark, Julia’s legs felt like gelatin again. Whether from being on a ship for so long or being unsure of where exactly to step among the chaos of the docks, she couldn’t tell. It seemed that thousands of people had crammed themselves into the space of the harbor. Merchants, cart drivers, sailors . . . Was the entire city like this?
“Stay close, everyone,” Cora commanded.
Gregory had valiantly volunteered to accompany the women to their new lodgings, along with a few other sailors, who carried the bulk of their luggage.
Julia became quickly engulfed in the chaos that didn’t let up even as they traveled the streets. People were staring at them—perhaps they’d never seen a large group of white people. Or were they staring at her—a towering American woman?
New smells struck her first, despite her clogged sinuses—both sickly sweet, which Gregory said was opium, and foul smelling, making her wonder what sort of sewage system they had in place. The use of incense and its cloying scent to cover the more unpleasant smells seemed logical now. There was also dirt everywhere . . . dust in her eyes, her mouth, on her skin.
Julia couldn’t look away from anything or anyone. Children ran around barefoot in dirt-stained clothing that may have never seen a speck of soap. A group of them swarmed her, staring at her—likely her red hair was something they’d rarely seen.
One of them spoke in English, “You desire to sit?”
Gregory shooed them off.
Gharries moved passed them—small cabs drawn by horses, which weren’t in any hurry to get anywhere. Men in white jackets, dark skirts, and squeaky shoes carried black umbrellas with crooked handles. Julia had so many questions, but the crowds made it a feat just to keep pace with the sailors and the luggage. They passed vendors with carts laden with colorful fruits and vegetables along with live chickens that eyed them with suspicion.
Julia supposed her group was a sight to behold, even for the Indian chickens.
“Here we are,” Gregory announced as the sailors stopped in front of a small house. “Your home for the next week or two while everything gets sorted.”
Julia could have hugged him, and she might have if she weren’t carrying her canvas military bag and weren’t about ready to melt into a puddle from the heat and humidity.
“I’ll be around in a couple of hours, and we’ll find some food and take in the sights.”
At least the women had more than one room in the small house. Julia shared with Peachy, and they took turns washing and changing clothes.
Soon, they met Gregory in front of the house, along with Rosie, Ellie, and Mary. The other women had come up with a different agenda, which probably included napping. But Julia was too keyed up to sleep.
