Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel
Read Mrs. Lieutenant: A Sharon Gold Novel Online
Authors: Phyllis Zimbler Miller
Tags: #vietnam war, #army wives, #military wives, #military spouses, #army spouses
Phyllis Zimbler Miller’s MRS. LIEUTENANT
is one of those stellar reads that keep you engaged from the first
word to the last, and how long or how short the book is doesn’t
concern you at all. Keep a box of tissues handy because you’ll need
it; I certainly did, and more than once…An easy
*****
— George Polley, author of fiction FERNANDEZ’
TALE AND OTHER SHORT STORIES, THE OLD MAN AND THE MONKEY,
GRANDFATHER AND THE RAVEN
Although this story takes place almost 40
years ago, it is so relevant today. Rank still has its privileges,
soldiers still die in battle, and some people still cling to
outdated rules and old prejudices… MRS. LIEUTENANT is well written
and these four main characters will grab your heart and you will
come to think of them as friends. You will care about them long
after you've finished the last page and closed the book.
— Kathleen M. Rodgers, author of the novel THE FINAL SALUTE:
TOGETHER WE LIVE ON
When you are done reading the book, you
realize that not only did you read a good story, but you read one
that stays with you on so many levels. And when you learn that the
author herself lived as an officer’s wife during this time period,
it makes the unfolding story of these four women all the more
intriguing.
— Tony Eldridge, author of the novels THE SAMSON EFFECT and THE
LOTTERY TICKET
http://blog.marketingtipsforauthors.com/
A very important look into the lives of army
wives, and despite the uniqueness of the historical period,
probably not much has actually changed for today's officers’ wives.
Thank you, Phyllis Zimbler Miller, for tackling this important
subject. A well-crafted and emotional story. I'd love to read
more!
— Susan Chodakiewitz, author of TOO MANY
VISITORS FOR ONE LITTLE HOUSE
newly married to men ready to do their patriotic duty during the
Vietnam War.
Phyllis Zimbler and Mitchell Miller at the
Coronation Ball at Michigan State University on Saturday, November
18, 1967, sponsored by the Cadet Officers Club and the Arnold Air
Society.
Copyright 2008 Phyllis Zimbler Miller
All rights reserved.
Smashwords edition.
Phyllis Zimbler Miller (@ZimblerMiller on Twitter)
is a former Mrs. Lieutenant and the co-author with her husband
Mitchell R. Miller of the novel LT. COMMANDER MOLLIE SANDERS
(
www.MollieSanders.com
)
Phyllis and Mitch have also co-authored the book
FOUR COMEDY SCREENPLAYS, and Phyllis co-authored with Rabbi Karen
L. Fox the Jewish holiday book SEASONS FOR CELEBRATION. (See the
Amazon author page for Phyllis at (
http://budurl.com/PZMAmazonpage
)
Phyllis is the co-founder with Yael K. Miller
(
www.HurricaneHoodoo.com
) of the Los Angeles-based
marketing consulting company
www.MillerMosaicLLC.com
For MRS. LIEUTENANT book club questions see
www.MrsLieutenant.com
.
To the memory of
Elaine Siegel Masser
AEPhi sorority sister, college roommate,
friend
With affection for
the wives of AOB 21
13 May 70 – 16 Jul 70
With gratitude to the four women who have
been the strongest supporters of this book: Loretta Savery, who for
many long years has cheered on this book; Susan Chodakiewitz, a
more recent cheerleader for this book; and my two daughters –
Rachel Miller and Yael Miller – for whom I’ve written this story of
times past.
And thanks to my husband Mitchell R. Miller,
without whom I would not have had the experience of being an army
officer’s wife.
In addition, my source to put this story in
historical context is “Day by Day: The Seventies,” Volume 1,
1970-1975, by Thomas Leonard, Cynthia Crippen and Marc Aronson
along with, of course, the “Mrs. Lieutenant” booklet by Mary
Preston Gross.
KIM – V – May 30 (Memorial Day)
ACTIVE DUTY
SHARON - I - May 4
President Nixon announces he is sending U.S.
troops into Cambodia ... April 30, 1970
“
It has been said that when a man acquires a
commission, the government has gained not one, but two – the
officer and his wife.”
Mrs. Lieutenant
booklet
They drive around the western edge of Lake
Michigan, past the industrial suburbs of Chicago, down into the
flat farmland of Indiana, their tiny convertible a bright yellow
bug boring through the cornfields.
Sharon Gold moves her cramped right foot, and
the Farberware coffeepot bangs against her shin. Then the brown
paper grocery bag with its open boxes of cereal and crackers shifts
across her seatbelted lap. For the 10th time in the last two hours
she glances around the densely packed interior of the Fiat Spider,
a car that seemed truly wonderful when Robert bought it last
summer, before they had to rely on it as a moving van.
It certainly can't be said that they have all
their earthly possessions with them. When you have a car as small
as a Fiat, you take only the barest necessities: Suitcases with
summer clothes and bedding tied atop the luggage rack. A few pots
and pans and shoes in the minuscule trunk. In the well behind the
two seats are stashed a tiny black and white television, already
several years old when her parents passed it on to them, and the
Singer sewing machine presented in the hope that she might someday
learn domestic skills. Their wedding gifts, their books and her
stereo and albums, and the rest of their clothes remain at her
parents' home, moved there from Robert's one-room apartment on
Sheridan Drive they shared after their wedding.
The branch transfer to military intelligence
from infantry has come through! Robert's orders are to report to
Ft. Knox, Kentucky, for nine weeks of Armor Officers Basic to
fulfill the requirement of a combat arms course before military
intelligence training. "Why combat arms training?" she asked him
when he received his new orders. "Surely you'll have a desk job.
That's the whole point of getting the branch transfer." Robert
didn’t answer.
Her purse holds the official army reporting
packet sent to Robert. The orders for Ft. Knox say nothing about
his wife. Robert reminded her of the old army joke: “If the army
had wanted him to have a wife, they would have issued him one.”
Her purse also contains the journal she
bought yesterday. She’s a firm believer in the expression that,
when you are handed lemons, make lemonade. Since she wants to be a
writer, she’s going to record her experiences in the army. Maybe
she can write articles or short stories about this alien
environment and sell them to a newspaper or magazine.
"You think your parents are still upset?"
Robert asks.
Sharon glances at him, acutely aware of his
altered looks. His long sideburns shaved off; the rest of his dark
hair trimmed by the barber so close to his scalp that the waves
usually framing his broad face have disappeared.
Is he asking about her insistence on coming
with him to Ft. Knox? Or about something more basic – Sharon
marrying him right before the start of his two-year active duty
commitment?
At last night's dinner Sharon's mother passed
the platter of roast beef for the second time. "Wouldn’t it be a
better idea for you to wait until Robert has gone down to Kentucky?
Checked on the housing situation? Then you could fly down to join
him when he's found a place for you to live."
This plan has been proposed before. Sharon's
mother first put it forward when she and Sharon lunched at Marshall
Field's after a morning of shopping in the mammoth State Street
department store. Her mother had actually been somewhat tactful,
pointing out how much difficulty Sharon might have relating to the
people she would meet at Ft. Knox. "Remember when you decided where
to go to college?" she said. "You didn't listen to us then about
going to the University of Illinois – you insisted on going to
Michigan State – and look what happened!"
All around the department store dining room
the lunch crowd enjoyed the food. Sharon grasped her water glass.
Presumably her mother meant the two roommates at MSU that Sharon
had been assigned her first term – the WASP from the upper-class
Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe and the Catholic from the Hamtramck
working-class section of Detroit, both prejudiced against Jews –
and then, second term, the hostile roommate off a farm in central
Michigan who had never met a Jew before. Or perhaps her mother
meant meeting Robert. Sharon didn't ask for clarification.
At the dinner table last night her father
studied his refilled plate while her mother repeated her position.
As a successful real estate attorney, he identified those occasions
in which keeping quiet could enhance a negotiation.
Sharon took the platter out of her mother's
hands and passed it on to her brother Howard without taking
seconds. "Relax, Mom. I keep telling you, I can always stay with
Grandma and Grandpa in Louisville. At least then I'll only be an
hour away from Robert."