“Your heaviest artillery will be your will to live. Keep that big gun going.”

Norman Cousins

January 2, 1953

Sweet Grove train station

The chug of the engine rang in his ears as everyone talked at once.

His father wagged a finger at him. “Keep your head down, boy.”

“Let us know you arrive safely.” Shirley handed him a bag. “I made some goodies for the trip.”

“Can I have your medals when you’re a hero?” Leroy jumped up and down to get his attention.

“I’ll write every day,” promised Laura Beth.

He held up his hands. “Hey, I only have one set of ears, y’all.”

Joey received another bear hug from Pa, bringing back memories of another summer when his father had stood on this platform and shown such affection. With Mama by his side. It seemed liked eons ago. Oh, to be heading back to Austin for another semester, instead of boot camp in Fort Hood.

He gave Mrs. Walters a hug and thanked her for the baked goods. “I’m sorry Mr. Walters couldn’t make it. I hope he feels better.”

Shirley gave a snort. “Yes, bless his heart. I’ll take real care good care of him.”

The glint in his mother-in-law’s eye almost made Joe feel sorry for Glenn. Almost. With a grin, he teased, “Your daughter must inherit her compassionate side from you.”

Leroy thumped at his belly, and Joe automatically tightened up as his little brother used him for a punching bag. “Keep a tally on how many planes you shoot down. I have a bet with Charlie that my brother will knock down more enemy planes than his.”

Joe squatted down to Leroy’s level and ruffled his hair. “I’m not a pilot. I’ll be driving those big tanks.”

“Even better. Golly, I’d like to ride in one of those.”

Laura knelt down and squeezed the boy. “I hope you never have the opportunity.”

They both stood, gazes locked. Anxiety knotted his belly as the worry and pain flickered across her face. “I wish I could say something to relieve your fears. I promise to do my best to come home to you.”

“It’s in God’s hands now, and I have complete faith he will bring you back.” Her breathing was shallow after he kissed her. “I have a new job, and Max and Leroy will keep me busy. I’ll write every day.”

“It eases my mind to know you’ll be staying with them.” He folded her in his arms and whispered in her ear, “When you’re lying in my bed, open the shades, and look up at the stars. I’ll do the same, and whisper ‘I love you’ every night.”

Laura Beth’s eyes shone with tears as she nodded. “I promise.”

The whistle squealed a warning call, and he picked up his duffle bag. As the train pulled away, he kept his eyes glued to his family until they were specks in his hazy vision. Wiping his eyes, he closed his lids and said a prayer for the first time since his mother died.

* * *

April, 1953

Sweet Grove

The apple tree was loaded with pink buds ready to bloom. The flowers she planted the previous week provided an explosion of color along the fence surrounding the back door. Leroy had helped her pull out the patio furniture and wipe down black frames with turquoise cording. He had sat on the vinyl strips while they were still wet and roared at the stripes left on the back of his legs.

Laura Beth’s stomach growled from the smell of barbecue and charcoal. It was a beautiful spring day, and she rubbed her belly with a smile. “I sent a letter yesterday to Joey, so I can tell Max and Leroy now. Did you tell Daddy?”

Her mother shook her head. “Not yet. That man’s more obstinate than a mule on a cliff. But I’ve got a stubborn streak too. And he can fend for himself on Sundays until he sees reason.”

Laura reached out to squeeze her hand. “I miss him, Mom, but I can’t apologize for living my own life.”

“Well, you should have seen his face when I walked out of the house with his favorite potato salad.” Shirley laughed. “He followed me out the door, whining. ‘Now just a doggone minute. You could leave me a bowl.’ And I told him he was welcome to more than that if he came over to the McCalls.”

Shirley had decided that if Sundays were to be a family day, then she needed to spend it with an entire family. So each week, Max provided the meat, and Laura and her mother took care of the rest. “Last week you brought your jalapeño macaroni and cheese. I don’t know how he’s holding out.”

“If a baby doesn’t sway him, I give up on the man. It will be his loss.” Shirley nodded at Max, hovering over the ribs on the grill. “How will you tell them?”

Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “Watch.” Laura picked a small bag from the rippled glass top table between them.

“Leroy, come here. I have a present for you!”

“Me? Really?” He ran over to the women, bouncing on his toes. “What is it?”

“Open it up and see.” She handed him the brown paper bag. He bit his lower lip as he tore it open.

Leroy pulled out a green and yellow rattle; the beads inside the plastic circle clattered when he shook it. “Aw, it’s a baby toy. I’m too big for this.”

Max’s head jerked up, his eyes growing wide. Happiness tickled Laura’s belly. “Hmm, maybe you could give it to the baby then.”

“What baby?” The boy scrunched his eyebrows together then looked around the yard. “There ain’t no baby here.”

“There isn’t a baby here—yet.” She grinned as her father-in-law reached them in three strides. “But there will be next October.”

“You mean… We’re having a baby?” Max stood behind his son now, staring at the rattle.

“You’re going to be a grandpa and”—she poked Leroy in the belly— “an uncle.”

The whoop of joy Max McCall let out made both women jump then hoot with laughter along with him. “I’ll be. A baby. A baby!” He looked up at the cloudless, powder blue sky. “Did you hear that Dixie? We’re going to be grandparents.”

* * *

May, 1953

Pork Chop Hill, South Korea

Joe held the letter up to the dim light. His bunker was cold and damp, but the sight of Laura Beth’s flowing script cheered him. He tuned out the ever-present rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire and boom of grenades and small explosives. The 7^th Infantry Division had been digging tunnels, adding outposts, and sand-bagging bunkers around Pork Chop Hill. The fighting to take that hill from the North Koreans had been bloody. So had the battle for Old Baldy and Triangle Hill. If he never saw a mound of dirt again, he’d be happy.

He still said a prayer of thanks every night for his position of mechanic. He had avoided having to kill anyone and felt blessed for that, but he still risked his life every day. The struggle to keep tanks and jeeps running was never-ending. Most of the machines would have been junked if not for the Korean War. When machinery went down on the field, it was Joe’s responsibility to get it up and running or tow it out. They would leave nothing, not even scrap metal, to the enemy.

He knew the sound of a bullet whizzing past his head, and relived the sight of body parts flying through the air when he closed his eyes at night. But the worst part of his job was body retrieval. It was both a privilige and a horror to fetch the corpses of men he called friend and family in this forsaken land. They all deserved than a military funeral; their families needed closure. It was the least Joe could do for his brothers. If he went down during a retrieval mission, he would be added to an honorable list of men who had given the ultimate sacrifice for their country and freedom.

Another explosion shook the ground. The light flickered as he squinted at Laura Beth’s words.

Dear Joey,

I hope this finds you safe and unharmed. Spring has come to Sweet Grove, and the apple blossoms are just peeping out. Leroy tries to use them for BB gun practice. His aim is atrocious but his determination is invincible. He brags about his big brother, the soldier, every day. From the way he talks, I won’t recognize you when you come home. Your shoulders are at least three feet wide, and you probably stand at about six foot seven by now.

I still open the shades each night and whisper “I love you” just like you asked. My heart cries for you every day, but I know deep in my soul you will return to me. Especially now that we have a baby on the way.

Yes, you read that correctly. We are expecting a child in October. I’m turning into a plump wife. My belly is swelling just a little, my face is filling out, and Max can’t keep enough barbecue in the house to satisfy my cravings. When you need to take your mind off your troubles, think of names. I prefer Joseph Evan McCall Jr. for a boy, but what about a girl?

I pray you will be home by the time the baby is born. We scour the papers and listen to the news every day. The peace talks continue and, the lord willing, the fighting will end soon. Please know that I am with you in spirit every second of every day.

All my love and kisses,

Laura Beth McCall

P.S. I just love writing that last name. It looks so natural, doesn’t it?

Joe smiled. “You’re beautiful.” Then his heart pounded. A baby. They were having a baby. He’d better be even more careful then, extreme diligence keeping his head down and avoiding land mines and bullets. He needed to see his daughter. Or son. But somehow, he knew she would be a girl. And her middle name would be Dixie.