Chapter 1

LYRICS FROM "THE MILLS BROTHERS" SONG

I'm gonna buy a paper doll that I can call my own

A doll that other fellows cannot steal

And then the flirty, flirty guys with their flirty, flirty eyes

Will have to flirt with dollies that are real

When I come home at night she will be waiting

She'll be the truest doll in all this world

I'd rather have a paper doll to call my own

Than have a fickle-minded real live girl

I guess I had a million dolls or more

I guess I've played the doll game o'er and o'er

I just quarreled with Sue, that's why I'm blue

She's gone away and left me just like all dolls do

I'll tell you boys, it's tough to be alone

And it's tough to love a doll that's not your own

I'm through with all of them, I'll never fall again

Say boy, whatcha gonna do?

I'm gonna buy a paper doll that I can call my own

A doll that other fellows cannot steal

And then the flirty, flirty guys with their flirty, flirty eyes

Will have to flirt with dollies that are real

When I come home at night she will be waiting

she'll be the truest doll in all this world

I'd rather have a paper doll to call my own

Than have a fickle-minded real live girl

(These lyrics were written in 1915 and published in 1930 by piano player Johnny S. Black. The were made popular during WWII by the Mills Brothers)

NEW YORK CITY

1946

It was sort of peaceful at home now.

Here I was sitting at the window looking out at the snow falling on Broadway.

I was all in one piece after North Africa and the long slog up the Italian boot. Memories of the mud from Monte Casino rattled around inside my brain like a pair of dice cubes always coming up craps.

I was all of twenty-one years old and I had enough mud and blood to last me a lifetime. I was mustered out in less than an hour at Fort "something" over in Brooklyn and I was cold as an icicle and shivering inside the solid stone building that had seen better days. All the guys were smoking up a storm because it was too nasty outside to even think about telling anyone to "take five" and then get pushed into the nasty damp weather for a shot of nicotine. Besides, the non-smokers which included yours truly, were in a distinct minority and nobody gave a shit, if the truth be known.

I remembered some dainty-looking officer that had never left our peaceful shores was giving out instructions to us about the proper behavior of mustered out enlisted swine into the midst of peace-loving civilians like we were all a herd of brutish animals being set free on the unsuspecting sheep without warning.

My name is Danny Donovan and I was one of the lucky ones that lived only a subway ride away from the discharge point and I would be home in less than an hour after they finished with all the bullshit and stamped my forehead "Discharged" or whatever they did to make it official.

I got the word from a corporal with only one eye that I should keep any medical conditions unspoken because they were putting "medical holds" on the poor pricks that blabbed about them. I gave him what was left of a pack of cigarettes that I swore I would never light up ever again and made certain that "mum was the word" when they asked me if I was suffering from any physical problems.

They hadn't documented my missing toes that had been so badly frostbitten in the cold Italian winter weather that they had simply fallen off in my sleep. I had thought for almost the past year that my hearing was all shot to hell because I was always asking people to repeat what they said to me. I knew it was the result of being next to the ammo dump when the whole thing went up like a Roman candle on the fourth of July. I spent almost three days not even being able to hear my own words.

That was the strangest feeling ever.

The handful of nurses they had processing our gaggle of erstwhile civilians were less than beautiful but nobody was complaining because it had been a long time since any of us had seen an actual live "born in America" female with jaw breaking chewing gum and real nylons. The one that had taken my temperature the old-fashioned way making me bend over seemed to enjoy her work immensely using gobs of Vaseline with liberal skills in the mortifying application. I hoped I wasn't blushing noticeably because the guys would rib the hell out of me and I would never live it down.

There was an Oriental-looking doctor stamping our papers.

I was not an expert in such matters but he looked a lot more Filipino than Japanese and that made a lot of sense to me because the feelings against the Japs was still running fairly emotional despite the unconditional surrender so recently seen in all the newspapers and constantly repeated on the radio.

Suddenly, a whole line of buses started to park right outside the building and I knew they were getting ready to spit us out into American society just like regular human beings and not some kill-crazy monsters lacking social skills or appreciation for the finer things of life. I saw the little Filipino doctor stamp my record with the black stamp and not the red one and I knew I was going to be boarding one of those brand-new buses for the ride to the main gate and the entrance to the subway line that would bring me home again so I could take up my interrupted life minus three years and six months of things I was busy trying real hard to forget.

I was a private now because my Company Commander made me shit-can my sergeant's stripes right after I managed to accidently burn down the mess tent with some Willie-Peter after drinking too much of "Cookie's" mash the night we were all informed of the German surrender. I never liked being a sergeant anyway because it meant I had to put my buddies on shit details and send them on dangerous patrols that I would rather go on myself instead of sending them into harm's way.

The C.O. was a pretty good guy even if he was a reserve officer and not a West Pointer and he had sold shirts on Madison Avenue during peacetime. I wondered if he was going to go back to selling shirts after years of busting caps and sending letters to next of kin on a daily basis. I was a firm believer in the two basic rules of enlisted survival which were to never involve an officer in enlisted matters and never volunteer for anything no matter how tempting. The loss of my stripes was only fair in my estimation and in all honesty I didn't miss them at all. I did like how my shirts looked with the dark patch visible where the stripes had once taken up residence. The contrast of faded material and dark original fabric was strangely comforting like some mystical reminder of the past at a time when the future was my only concern.

The nurse told me in her firm and comforting voice,

"It's time for you to board the bus, young man. It is time to go home and start all over."

I saw her standing there in front of me more like a tempting imp than an angel of mercy.

This was the female that took great pleasure in sticking it to my poor ass at a time when I had no choice about it. Still, she looked fetching in her white and blue uniform and I liked the fact she didn't skimp when it came to putting on her ruby red lipstick. Her lips suddenly looked plump and pretty despite the fact she had to be almost twenty years older than me and she had a disturbing black mole right next to her nose. I maneuvered her into the tiny alcove at the corner of the building and let my naughty fingers roam over her girdle-encased backside that was out of sight from all those around us. I knew she could make a fuss about my shameful behavior but she kept her mouth shut and even turned slightly so I wouldn't miss any part that hadn't been explored. My groin was beginning to stir with that old familiar feeling and like some sort of miracle, the middle-aged impish angel cupped my business in gentle hands to show me she was also a creature willing to grant me comfort in my sex-deprived condition providing it was not seen by the general public.