Stage Door Canteen (37 page)

The War Department man said, “Nothing’s been done to Kubelsky, I told you, he decided to enlist. It was a very prudent thing to do, to volunteer to fight on the side of democracy, now, considering his past political connections. Come now, Miss Ginsberg, stop crying, you’ll see him in six weeks, after he’s completed basic training. In the meantime, cheer up, you’ll continue here as hostess at the Stage Door Canteen. Ann Bennett’s made it plain you’re one of the most valuable persons on the volunteer roster. Your language skills are irreplaceable. Which brings us to another matter.”

Elise wasn’t listening. She had heard her father and Max talk about how governments operated, their sources of power, the way they could punish you. And Max was being punished, she was sure of it. They all were, her father, Max and herself. What was it this man had said? Actually, we can do more than the FBI.

“It would involve just a little more than you’re doing now,” he was saying. “But I assure you, not enough to be any great burden.”

“What I am ‘doing now’?”

“Yes, as a hostess in the canteen, being your helpful and charming self. Your Russian is very good, Dr. Ronin at Fordham confirms that.”

“I don’t know Dr. Ronin, he’s in European Languages.” She was confused. “Maybe once, no—I don’t remember. At some faculty tea.”

“He says you spoke to him in Russian, that you had a very charming conversation. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that it would be a considerable help if you could spend more of your time here in the Canteen. Ann says you’ve gotten along well with the Allied merchant crews. There are departments in my government still interested in the Soviets even though, as you know, they are now our valued partners. But the ongoing process of gathering information, that is, what we can get from them, is still very much in place.”

Elise started to speak, but he held up his hand. “I’m not asking you to do anything distasteful. Merely a further extension of what you are already doing as a hostess. Before you say anything, I have a few things to add. Your father has been offered a post as visiting lecturer at Hofstra College here in the metropolitan New York area. I have already discussed the new job with him, and he seems very keen on it.” The smile had returned. “What do you say?”

Elise couldn’t speak for a moment. It sounded like a nightmare but it was very real. “Does—does Miss Bennett, the Canteen—know you’re doing things like this?”

He didn’t answer.

She didn’t know how they had gotten Max to enlist in the American army, but Max would have seen at once how this democratic government had spun its web. One would not sacrifice the others to save oneself. Max became a United States soldier, and would go to the Pacific if she agreed to ‘gather information’ in the Canteen. Her father would have a job at Hofstra College until the war was over. Mr. Campbell from the investigations office of the public relations section of the United States War Department was making it sound as though she had a choice, when there was none. The Americans no doubt thought they were justified in what they were doing. That they were, after all, fighting a war, fighting the Nazis and Hitler. That being the case, how could any Jew not cooperate?

Elise said carefully, “My father was happy about a position at Hofstra?”

He nodded. “Very.”

“I would like to see Max.” Not so frightened now, she was beginning to be able to think more clearly. “That is, while he’s in the Army, here in the United States.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know what I’m expected to do.”

“Ah, details later, but it’s really not too difficult. You will have a thorough briefing on how to gather what we need. I will be the one briefing you.”

There was a pause and then she said, “When—when do I start?”

“Right now.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Very good of you to do this, Miss Ginsberg. There are freedom fighters on the inside as well as the outside, you know. And you will find, as time goes along, that what you do is very important to the war effort. Someday the information you provide may be used to decide a very important national security matter. It might go straight to the top. You never can tell.”

He started for the door, guiding her ahead of him. “I don’t suppose we turn out the lights, do we? Well, nevermind.” He turned to her. “There’s one thing we must definitely agree on. There are no spy planes flying in and out of Poland, Miss Kubelsky. Specifically no DC-3s. That sort of misinformation can start all sorts of wild rumors. This is wartime, the United States government does insist that you never refer to spy planes, DC3s, or covert flights into any European nation such as Poland, in any way. Or to any photographs allegedly transported in that fashion. Or any photographs, period. Do I make myself clear?”

She stood in the doorway, looking up at him. The hall light glinted on his glasses, she couldn’t see his eyes. She knew he had left the most important thing for last.

“Yes, I understand,” she said.

“Very good, I am glad we are in agreement,” he said in excellent Russian. The smile was back. He took her by the elbow. “Then, little Miss Ginsberg,” he continued in the same language, “let us be friends.”

They came out into the noise of the main room of the canteen, and Mr. Campbell of the War Department quickly made his goodbyes. Bunny Berrigan was playing the song that had made him famous, I Can’t Get Started With You, and the crowd wasn’t dancing but standing close-packed and swaying, while one of the new spotlights donated by the Manhattan electricians’ union bathed Berrigan and his horn in cobalt blue. The cigarette smoke was thick. Above the mirrored ball in the canteen ceiling rotated slowly, casting bits of light over the heads and faces of those standing and listening. The young men of the Allied forces, soldiers, marines, sailors, Canadian and Australian airmen, stood with their arms around canteen hostesses. Some were singing. It was suddenly not New York City in wartime, but a prom, a sock hop, and Bunny Berrigan was playing the tune they had danced to yesterday.

Annmarie van Troup said at Elise’s elbow, “Are you busy right now? Do you speak Polish?”

She turned to her. “No, I guess I’m not.” Elise didn’t know what to do. She had been thinking of telling Ann Bennett she was not feeling well and going home, but she was not ready to face her father. And Max was gone. Taken into the American army.

“Well, we have some guys in blue uniforms that look like the RCAF, but they say they’re Polish,” the blonde girl was saying. “One of them has a toothache. They want to know if someone can tell them where to find a hospital.”

She was hardly listening. It starts now, the man from the War Department had said.

“Yes, all right,” Elise told her. “Just point them out to me, where they are. I will see what I can do.”

Fifteen minutes later Annmarie left Elise Ginsberg with the Polish flyers and went to the join the crowd at the dance floor. While she was looking for Jane and some of the other regular Tuesday night girls she felt someone touch her arm. When she turned, she saw the blue-eyed Army Air Force sergeant. The one with the war bond tour.

“Are you still here? I thought you were going back overseas. Where have you been?”

“Out at Mitchel Field on Long Island,”he told her. “Confined to quarters with no damned leave. Hey, I’m looking for Dina Flaherty. I called her house, her uncle told me she was here tonight.”

The Berrigan band began One O’ Clock Jump. It was a Lindy Hop, the jitterbug, but the dance floor was so crowded there was hardly room for the dancers to move.

“I don’t know where she is.” Annmarie waved her hand at the dance floor. “Somewhere out there. You’ll have to go find her.”

“Thanks, I’ll look.”

A moment later he plunged into the crowd, pushing people out of the way. Dina was dancing with a First Army corporal. Gene tapped him on the shoulder, but the corporal shrugged him off.

“Please, no cutting in!” Dina had to shout over the music. “Wait your turn. I’ll see you in a minute.”

The corporal tried to dance her away, but Gene caught him by the arm. “Now. I need to see you now,” he yelled.

“Listen, mac.” The corporal’s eyes dropped to the rows of decorations on Gene’s chest, and his expression changed. “No kidding, Pacific theater? DFC?” He stepped back, releasing her. “You bet, sarge, no problem.”

Berrigan and his orchestra finished. Applause filled the canteen. A moment later the music started up again, this time a slow number, That Old Black Magic. The canteen lights lowered as the girl vocalist, in a dress covered with green glass beads that shot bits of fire, took the microphone.

Gene pulled Dina into his arms. With a sigh, she moved against him. “What are you doing here?” she said, putting her mouth to his ear. “Where have you been? I thought you were in California!”

“They had me confined to base. Out on Long Island.” He pulled her close. “I’m on my way tonight, I have to take a train out of Penn Station in a couple of hours. My nursemaid, Lt. Elsmore, is waiting outside. He’s ticked off he can’t come in because he’s an officer.”

“You’re on your way to Hollywood? Gene, stop it!” He was kissing her throat, nibbling at her earlobe. She tried to push him away but he held her tightly. “We’re practically in the spotlight, where Ann Bennett can see us!”

“Let her see us. To hell with her.”

“What do you mean your nursemaid is with you?” She managed to push him far enough away to look into his face. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

“Nah, McElsmore’s just going as far as Penn Station with me. He’s supposed to see that I get on the train and don’t get back off.” He laughed. “A bunch of train MPs keep an eye on me until we get to LA.”

“Oh, no!” She could feel, with their bodies jammed against each other by the crowd, that he wanted her. “Oh, I know you! Gene, what have you done?”

“Nothing, not a damned thing. I just tried to get leave to come to see you,” he said, putting his mouth to her ear and kissing it, “and when I couldn’t get it, I went AWOL. They caught me and brought me back. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” She had a sudden thought. “You’re still going to Hollywood? That hasn’t changed?”

“Yeah.” Someone elbowed him in the back and he scowled. “Crap. let’s get out of here.” He took her wrist and pulled her off the dance floor. “I need to talk to you.”

“Wait, Gene, you know I can’t leave the canteen!”

“You could if you wanted to, Dina. You could get on the train with me tonight.”

He had steered her behind the partition that led to the restrooms. The alcove was dark and relatively private. He immediately pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily.

Dina put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She could enjoy kissing him where they were, hiding out in a dark place while the music pounded just a few feet away, it made it all the more exciting. After a few minutes Dina, too, was on fire. He made a strangled sound, arms tightening around her.

“I wish we had made love.” She let her lips trail across his cheek. “We were right there, in the hotel. And I really wanted to.”

“You’re coming with me to Hollywood.”

She pulled back. “Are you crazy? I’m not going to get on a train in the middle of the night without any luggage, and go all the way across the country to California! You act so nutty sometimes. Why do you say things like that?”

“Dammit, you could if you wanted to, Dina! Listen, I would buy you anything you need, any clothes, anything.” He pulled her back into his arms. “You know I want to marry you. You’re my princess, you’re my life. I’d marry you right here, in the canteen, now, if they had a preacher to do it.”

She struggled, but he wouldn’t let her go. “I can’t do anything, Gene. Besides, I have a job. The show’s going to open in New Haven, out of town tryouts, next week. It’s so exciting, it has a new title! Mr. Hammerstein just wrote a new song, he kept saying the show needed a song about a place. The new number is called Oklahoma! There’s a big chorus, a big ballet and finale, and Agnes de Mille has put me in it! I’m not an understudy any more, I’m in the Oklahoma! reprise where Lee Dixon picks me up and does a complete turn and then puts me into the back of a wagon. God, we’ve rehearsed that lift until I can do it in my sleep! The show is going to be a hit, everybody’s sure of it, now. I can’t leave, even if I wanted to!”

“Hollywood is better, Dina.” His face was set, determined. “No matter what you’ve got here, the Broadway show and everything, I’m going to be able to offer you more. Just give me a chance.” He reached into his jacket pocket, grasped her hand, and pulled her to him. “Dina, let’s get engaged?”

She pulled back. “Gene—I—I can’t.”

“You’re not going to sleep with any other guy, I’m pretty sure of it, so I’m not worried about that. Not as long as you’re in that show. I know you can’t think of anything else.”

“Gene, good grief, are you still carrying that ring around? I-”

“You can’t fool me, Dina, your kisses don’t lie,” he insisted stubbornly. “You want me, Dina. Maybe I’m in second place after your damned career, but you do.” He seized her hand, spread her fingers, and slipped the diamond ring on the third finger. “I’m the one you’re going to marry. If you won’t come to California right now, at least we can get engaged.”

“Oh!” She didn’t seem able to take her eyes from the diamond, which sparkled arrows of light in the darkness.