Isabel’s War by Lila Perl Read Free Book Online Page A

wholesome and generous meals. I keep wondering why my family can’t be a happier one. Somebody, it seems, is always being criticized. I, of course, am the worst culprit with my demands for a nose job, for a pair of dungarees, for notappreciating what Helga has been through, and for not doing enough for the war effort.
    Arnold, so far, has been told that his visit to us at Moskin’s is premature and that he needs a haircut. But then he hasn’t even been here an hour.
    Mrs. Moskin brings coffee and thick slices of golden, crusty-edged French toast that she makes from leftover loaves of her home-baked bread. “So,” my father says, stirring heavy cream into his coffee, “what’s doing in the city? How’s the job? Is the factory turning out its quota of uniforms? From the looks of all those draftees at the station, they’ll soon go into overtime.”
    Arnold digs into his syrup-drenched French toast. “Not me,” he says casually. “I quit the factory yesterday. Figure I’m due for a short vacation. That’s why I’m here.”
    â€œYou quit !” my father explodes. “You left your summer job working for the war effort? What kind of an American are you?”
    My mother has gotten to her feet. “Now, now, Harold, calm down. I’m sure our son has a good reason for what he did. Don’t be so quick to judge.”
    I remain sitting at the table, keeping an eye on Ruthie who has been lurking off in the distance where she’s helping her mother roll out dough for strudel. I’m so glad that for once this isn’t about me. It’s almost like watching a really good movie.
    Arnold, too, is now standing. “Pop, if you’d just givethe other fella a chance to explain once in a while. You’re going to be pleased with what I have to tell you. I’ve joined the Army Air Force. They took me into the Air Force . Is that terrific or what?”
    My mother sinks immediately into her chair. “You what ? Oh, my baby. You’re not even eighteen yet. You’re starting college in the fall. Why did you do that?”
    My father pushes his coffee cup away, plants his elbows on the table, and jams his face between his hands. “Crazy. I have a crazy family, crazy children. You couldn’t wait for your draft number to come up? Meanwhile you could have started college, maybe—who knows—even gotten a deferment.”
    Arnold sits down in dismay and, for the first time, he looks at me and something like a spark of shared sympathy passes between us. Then he goes on to explain that ever since last April when the American lieutenant colonel, James Doolittle, led a squadron of fifteen planes off the deck of an aircraft carrier to bomb Tokyo, he’s had his heart set on getting into the Air Force.
    â€œAh,” my father retorts. “The Doolittle raids. Do you know how dangerous that was for the pilots of those B-25s? Every one of them could have gone off that carrier straight into the water. It was a cockeyed idea to try to get back at the Japanese for bombing Pearl Harbor. But how much actual damage did it do? Almost nothing compared to the thousands they killed at Pearl Harbor.You’re too young. You’re underage. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of it. You’ll take a rest, like you said, and in a few weeks you’ll start college.”
    But my father is talking to nobody but my mother and me. Arnold has grabbed his overnight bag and dashed out of the hotel kitchen. I have a hunch that already he’s on his way to Harper’s Falls to board the next train for the city.
    â€œIs everything all right here?” Mrs. Moskin wants to know, as she surveys the ruins of the breakfast she served, plates of half-eaten French toast and cups of cold coffee.
    â€œYes, yes,” my father says, rising from the table. “Perfect. Thank you so much, my dear woman.”
    I start edging away from my