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While most of them have no direct experience of World War I, the Gates and Warshinsky families remain acutely aware of its progress. For Jed Gates and David Warshinsky, members of the US armed forces, the war is no abstract thing but a daily reality that threatens to overwhelm them body and soul.
Jed seeks to prove himself through battle --- to demonstrate to himself and his family that he has indeed been endowed with greatness. Some have defined bravery as the ability to overcome fear. That is especially true in Jed's case, for despite his faith in God --- and David --- he cannot rid himself of the terror that strikes him on the battlefield.
For David, the war has been an escape from a world he never felt part of. At ease among his fellow soldiers, still surprised at the pleasure he finds in Jed's friendship, David has begun to truly merit his self-confidence.
*****
Jed awoke just past dawn to the sound of birds. He lay with his eyes closed, breathing slowly, savoring the sweetness of the French spring air. He loved being up so early, when the light was delicate and the air was clear, not yet full of the dust of the Division's activities. A new day stretched before him, rife with possibilities. Jed was happy. As he had every morning since the first days of training camp, he woke feeling free.
Their time in France had been easy so far. The regiment had been attached to the U.S. 2nd Division, hunkered down and waiting, just southeast of Verdun. They were in a bon secteur, where the lines had remained stable for three long years and the 2nd had dug out a very domesticated existence for themselves. Conditions in the trenches were more than livable: beds with mattresses, tables and chairs, stoves, electricity, even some wooden floors. And no fighting.
There had been one brief period after they'd arrived during which Jed's unadulterated happiness had faltered. The couple of months of training with live grenades and sharp bayonets had put a metallic taste of fear into his mouth. After handling nothing but dummy wooden rifles through all his years in the Knickerbocker Greys and during training camp, Jed was panic-stricken by the stink of the explosives and the evil gleam of the deadly blades. In a shocking second, the simplicity of the Army's physical expectations became a horrendously complex matter of life and death. It didn't help him to know that his fear was normal. He had not expected to be frightened. He was unprepared for it, and his own emotions terrified him as much as the grenades and rifles.
While the other men talked about their fear, joked about it, used it to feel close to one another, Jed said nothing. He pushed himself harder and harder in an effort to deny his own panic. He became the most zealous trainee in the regiment. Any lingering, unspoken suspicion that Jed's swift rise to officer status was driven by his influential grandfather was forever abandoned; it no longer mattered how he got there. He was a soldier everyone could count on to lead well and do what was necessary.
When the special training ended, Jed's fear slowly dissipated. Daily, the men heard news of skirmishes to the north and east, battles fought by the British and French troops they were here to support. They even began hearing, little by little, of other American divisions becoming involved in some raids and line-holding. But it didn't seem real.
Jed stretched and opened his eyes. Sunlight moved like water on the ceiling of the tent.
"Ah, you're finally awake."
Jed turned his head toward the tent's shadowed interior. David was dressed and sitting on the bed next to him, one leg bouncing up and down, looking restless in that explosive way that only David could. Jed knew what that meant. It meant that David was going to go into town, without him.
Jed quickly sat up. "Give me a minute to get my clothes on and we'll go get some breakfast. Then how about we play some cards? You look like you need some diversion."
"I don't think cards will do the trick. I'm going into town."
"Don't you want to eat something first?"
"They've got food there, better than what we have." David gave him a mischievous look. "I'm sure Delphine will be happy to feed me."
Jed looked away. "I'm sure she will."
David laughed. "Come on, Jed. Come with me, for once." The one leg stopped bouncing, and the other started up. "Listen to me, I woke up feeling really weird this morning. I think something's about to happen. We might die tomorrow. What are you saving yourself for? Delphine's friend Sylvie really likes you."
"We're not going to die tomorrow and no, I'm not going with you! You know I don't do that. It's not the way I was raised. It's fine for you, but honestly, I don't want to."
David looked off into the distance again and sighed. "Me, I like women. Ahh, God, I love women." His voice had gone soft and vulnerable and his eyes had lost their focus. "They're so beautiful. That spot, where the back of the thigh curves up into the ass..." He tilted his head back and opened his mouth. "And they taste so good." He exhaled. "Oh fuck, that's it. I've got to find the lovely and willing Mademoiselle Delphine before I bust a gut."
David jumped up and grinned at Jed. "Don't pay any attention to me. I'm a bad role model. There's nothing wrong with sticking with your moral convictions. You stay here and be good for the both of us. I'll go find Vern. He's probably at the mess by now."
Jed felt a pain like a hot poker in his stomach. Cooper was attached to David like a fifth limb, though he had other friends. But Jed couldn't stand him, although no one would ever know it from his behavior. And he couldn't stand the thought of him going into town with David.
Jed pulled on his scratchy uniform, laced up his hob-nailed boots and left the tent, headed for the latrine and then mess. As soon as he stepped out of the dug-out, he felt it. David was right, something had changed. The war had found them, Jed could sense it in the air. There were too many men up and out too early, their movements no longer sluggish with boredom. A voice filled with exuberance carried on the tender morning air. "Lieutenant! Hey! We're moving out! We're moving out!"
Jed didn't turn to see who was calling to him. A sudden knot of panic constricted his chest. He hurried on to the mess. David was there, sitting with the core group of their infantry regiment, his hands wrapped around a metal cup full of steaming black coffee. Jed slipped in beside him. A chorus of "Hey, Lieutenant"s greeted him.
"What's happening?" Jed asked, pleased at how authoritative his voice sounded.
David turned to him, eyes filled with excitement of a different sort; no longing for Miss Delphine visible in them anymore. "It looks like we're finally getting into it, Jed. No one seems to know exactly what's going on, but we've gotten orders to move out.
Peterson heard rumors from Captain Hummel that the Germans broke through the line of the French Sixth somewhere north of Paris."
"Yeah, and I heard that about two hundred guys from the First were killed in some town up near there --- Cantigny, I don't know how the hell you pronounce it," Private Peterson added, mangling the lyrical name of the French town. "I think they're sending us up there."
Jed felt a balloon expanding inside his head. The table in front of him was receding at a rapid pace.
David glanced at Jed's averted face. He pushed the cup in Jed's direction. "Here, have some. I'm jumpy enough."
Jed reached for the coffee with an unnatural slowness. David looked at him carefully. Jed's face was expressionless, his blue eyes like clear pools of undisturbed water. David leaned closer and spoke so quietly that only Jed could hear him. "Jed, are you all right?"
Jed turned, instinct putting a smile on his face. "Sure, this is what we've been waiting for." He looked at David and, all of a sudden, he was all right. The golden lights flickering in the depths of David's eyes held him, steadied him, burned away the eerie distance that had sprung up between himself and the rest of the world. Looking into David's eyes was like staring into a banked fire. Jed could feel the power and the warmth waiting there. When he needed it, David would light that fire and let Jed draw strength from it. He sipped at the coffee. "God. This is strong enough to float a tank in."
"Yeah, it's our new secret weapon," Vern Cooper whispered, and everyone burst out laughing. It wasn't so funny, but it broke the tension.
Jed laughed along with the others. Everyone was scared, it was obvious. They'd all be fine once they got started. It was not knowing what to expect that was so hard. The image of himself standing triumphant over the fallen enemy rose in his mind and he thought of his grandfather's parting words to him. Make me proud, Jed. Lead well. Don't show your fear, set the example for your men to follow.
"Listen," he said, his voice strong, "we have to watch out for each other from now on."
"Don't worry, Lieutenant, I'm sticking close to you," Peterson replied. "You were the coolest thing I ever saw in training. If I'm near you, I'm gonna be okay."
Jed smiled at the score of faces turned toward him. "We're going to be great. We're going to be the best infantry regiment in the whole damned American Expeditionary Forces!"
"I'm glad to hear that, Lieutenant." Captain Hummel materialized behind Jed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Amusement tinged his voice. "Now I can sit back and relax."
"What's the word, Captain?"
"All I know is that there's a caravan of trucks coming in here to take us out. Even General Harbord doesn't know where we're going. But we've got to break camp, get ready to load up. So..." Hummel rubbed his hands together, "let's get to it. Gates, you seem to be the voice of authority among this motley crew. See if you can get them ready for the real world." The Captain was always easy with his men and they responded well to him. He stood quietly with them for a moment, then said simply, "Good luck, all of you," and left them to their preparations.
Jed sat cramped between David and Vern, his eyes closed, rocking gently against one and then the other. They were in one of the lead trucks bumping slowly along the road north toward Paris. He pictured the U.S. 2nd Division caravan, fourteen miles long, stretched out behind them like a snake rattling its way toward dangerous prey. Jed opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the truck.
He turned his head and looked out the open back. How sad. The beauty of the French spring was lost to him forever. All he saw now was dust and the seemingly endless stream of refugees fleeing south. This afternoon a group of ragged, spiritless French soldiers were mixed in with the civilians. One of them cried vehemently, "La guerre finie" as he rushed away from the front.
"If only the war were over," David said quietly. After three months in France, David spoke the language like a native, better than Jed after his years of schooling.
Yes, then I could go home, Jed thought.
"Things must be really bad on the front."
Jed looked down at David's hands, his slim fingers beautifully bronzed from the spring sun. They were crawling up and down his legs. "Are you scared, David?"
David grunted. "Of course I'm scared. I want my bones to rest in some rich man's cemetery in New York, years from now, not in a battlefield in France." He squirmed on the hard bench until he was facing Jed. "Jed," he whispered urgently, "let's stick together. Let's make sure that we get out of here alive."
"Sounds good to me."
"God, how can you act so calm?"
"David? Did some overprotective brother really give you that scar?" Jed's eyes were glued to David's face.
David looked hard at Jed. "Yes. That's exactly what happened."
"You wouldn't lie to me?"
David stared into Jed's eyes. The fear was there. "No. I wouldn't lie to you." David pressed his knee. "Jed, we're going to be okay."
Jed nodded. He couldn't say anything. He could not begin to express what he felt. I'm floating, he thought, nothing to hold me down. Nothing but the feel of David's hot hand on his leg. He scrabbled in his mind for his self-assurance. Everyone always told him he had it in abundance; where was it hiding? Strangely, what he found was an image of his father looking at him with calm green eyes, seeing him with utter clarity.
They crept through the fields in a heavy, early-morning fog. Retreating French soldiers slid through their advancing ranks, appearing suddenly like creatures formed out of the damp mist itself. No words were spoken; the gratitude on the faces of the poilus was more eloquent than anything they could have said. It was an eerie dream, silent and smokey. The dense mist swirled around the men's faces and blanketed all sound. Jed heard a muffled tittering from behind him, someone --- Cooper --- saying spookily "Hey fellas, we've risen from our graves!"
Their graves. He'd dug his yesterday, a shallow body-length trench scraped out of the dry, dusty ground with his bayonet and mess-kit lid. They'd been told to dig in, to hold the line. He'd finished his before anyone else, jabbing at the ground with savage speed. He'd flopped into his grave and prepared to shoot anything that came within his fifteen yards of territory. He'd lain there rigidly all night with his eyes wide open, staring into the darkness in the direction of the front. He'd heard the pounding of German boots coming nearer and nearer but no soldiers ever appeared. After an eternity he'd realized it was the beating of his heart. There had been no attack. They were ordered to move on, to find and engage the enemy.
Jed groped his way blindly, dimly aware of his regiment's presence around him, of foliage brushing at his legs. He bumped into someone in front of him. "Listen!" David hissed. Jed listened. Distant booms and crackings. "This is it!" David was gone.
Jed followed. He became aware of light; the fog was burning off. A brilliant shaft of sunlight hit his face and suddenly he was moving through a dazzling emerald sea of waving buckwheat, rippling sweetly in the June breeze. God, it was gorgeous! He stood up tall and looked around him in wonder.
"Put your head down Jed!"
But David, it's so beautiful.
"Don't stand up like that, you're a moving target! Let your helmet protect your neck, for God's sake! Jed, get down!"
He put his head down. There were explosions, men screaming. Jed fell to the ground, his heart beating madly. He got up again and ran. Jesus, men were dropping but where were the Germans? He heard Captain Hummel's voice echoing all around him, Drop and fire! They're using machine guns! Stay down, crawl and fire! Jed ran, shooting, falling, up, shoot, down. Tears were leaking from his eyes. The clear air was filled with fog again, not the cool wet morning mist but hot, stinking smoke. Jed ran through it, feeling the wheat slap at his legs. He tripped and fell over on top of something. He looked down and saw Peterson, half his head blown away. Jed shrieked and clawed at the ground. He stood up screaming and ran, his breath bellowing between screams, firing into the blue smoke ahead of him.
It was so quiet. Where was everyone? He was lying on the ground on his back, looking up through the green shafts of wheat at a darkening sky the color of those deep blue violets his father grew in little pots in early spring. Ah, there was the evening star! He was so comfortable. A face in the twilight above him. David! Looking so sad.
David fell to his knees next to Jed's supine body. His eyes glistened with angry tears. He grabbed Jed's shoulders and hugged him to his chest. "I've been looking all over for you, goddamnit! I thought for sure you were dead the way you ran right toward them. You must have shot a million Germans. What are you doing just lying here?"
"Look at that sky, David. Beautiful, isn't it?" He was croaking. Why was his throat so raw? Why was he shaking like that? He grabbed onto David and they held each other so tightly they could scarcely breathe.
"Come on, we're retreating for the night, we have to get back." David dragged Jed to his feet.
Jed staggered after him. "Peterson is dead, you know. I fell over him."
David shivered so hard he almost stumbled. "I know. Vern and I buried him. We buried a lot of guys since the firing stopped."
Jed saw David's shoulders shake; he was sobbing. An unbearable panic rose up from Jed's guts and spread through his chest. He opened his mouth to let it out. It floated away. "David, don't cry." He reached out and took David's hand.
They half-crawled, half-ran back toward safety in the wan light of a newly-risen crescent moon. As they scrambled across the battlefield, Jed wrinkled up his nose. "What's that smell?"
"Oh, Jed," David moaned, "what do you think it is?"
Jed was about to say he didn't know, but then he realized it was the stench of death.
Jed wandered through the hastily-erected encampment, stepping around the bodies of the wounded waiting to be taken out to the advance dressing stations and hospitals. In the week they hadn't been fighting, he did what everyone else did. He ate and slept and joked and waited. No one seemed to notice that he wasn't really there. He wondered if maybe everyone felt like he did inside, all foggy and detached.
"Gates, go get something to eat and some rest." Captain Hummel appeared beside him and gently took Jed by the arm, led him toward the mess tent. Rich kid, he didn't have to be here at all, but look at him. He'd fought like a machine for a month. He'd dug his buddies' graves and dragged the wounded back in from the field. No wonder he seemed a little dazed. Well, shit, everyone was so tired even Cooper's frantic attempts to get a baseball game going had met with total indifference.
Jed nodded. "It's hot," he said, tugging at his jacket collar.
"It's the end of July, Jed," Hummel said lightly. "It's supposed to be hot."
July, Jed thought vaguely. What happened to June? Wasn't it just June?
"Come on, Jed. Go find your buddies and get some sleep. We're moving into place during the night. Tomorrow's the big offensive along the Marne."
Jed woke to rain falling on his upturned face. Up and moving. No fires, no coffee. Cold bully beef, inedible. Not hot anymore, cold, cold rain. Marching silently along roads so dark they seemed like tunnels. Into the woods, feet sinking into thick mud, sucking at ankles. Slogging five miles, endless hours through the murky muck. Legs aching, shoulders aching. Dropping like stones into place in a ravine, David on one side, Vern on the other. Like sacks of wet flour, thudding onto the ground, three bundles of exhaustion lying inert until dawn. Hundreds of bundles littering the ravine for miles on either side.
Dawn, clear glorious rain-washed sky, light rays coming up over the eastern horizon like a chorus of angels. Sudden puffs of smoke dirtied the air; the morning quiet was broken by the rolling thunder of cannons and artillery up ahead. Tanks were rumbling in front of them. The earth trembled beneath their feet. Up! Up and out! Here we go! The hum in Jed's brain turned into a roar. He shook his head hard and it subsided. They ran across the broken ground, following their tanks. Cannon fire burst all around them. Everyone dropped at the same instant, everyone minus someone got up again. Musical chairs. Over and over. How many were left?
"Gates, take your group, get through that trench. Knock out those damned cannons!" Hummel's voice boomed in his ear.
The Gates Brigade, what was left of it. Running full tilt, zig-zagging across the field, dropping, waiting, up again. Pouring over the lip of a trench, shocked German faces staring up at the gleaming tips of their poised bayonets. Jed opened his mouth and screamed. He looked into the blue eyes of a baby-faced boy, staring up at him in horror. He screamed louder and plunged his bayonet into the boy's chest. Blood sprayed everywhere. The blue eyes grew grey and filmy, but the horror remained. Jed whirled, blue eyes all around him! He jabbed in all directions.
"Jed, that's enough! The cannons, let's go!"
David's hand on his back, pushing him up. Jed scrambled out of the trench, feeling his boots slipping on wetness as he pushed off against flesh. Someone threw a grenade and through the smoke they leaped onto the cannon crew.
"We got one!" Cooper's coarse voice.
Where the hell was the sun? Jed tried to find it on the horizon through the yellow-brown smoke. What was it doing way overhead? He started wandering back the way they'd come.
"Jed, where are you going?"
It's late David, we have to get back home. He started trotting toward the trenches.
David ran after Jed, Vern close behind, struggling to see through the thick, acrid smoke. He fell into the German trench. There were bodies everywhere. He scrabbled up the far side and vomited without breaking stride. "Jed, you bastard, where are you!" There. Running off to the left. Suddenly, the earth under David's feet disappeared and he flew up into the haze. He clutched at the Star around his neck. His father was laughing into his face, throwing him up in the air and catching him. He smiled as he sailed in the sky. He was smiling when he slammed into the ground. His fist opened and the Star of David fell into the blood-soaked dirt.
Something hit Jed's back and kicked him over, knocked the breath out of him. He lay for a moment with his face in the muck. I'm not supposed to get dirty! I'll say Lucy pushed me! He got up and headed for a line of trees off to his left. He leaned his back against one and slid down to sit in the shade of its branches. He brushed the dirt off his clothes. He looked up and saw a strange shape lurching toward him through the smoke. Something moving, hunched over something on the ground... He got up and walked slowly toward it. Oh, no! Someone was dragging David across the field, cruelly bouncing his limp body on the rough terrain. Stop, stop! Leave him alone! Jed grabbed his rifle and ran at full pitch. Get away from him!
Blue Eyes standing over David's body. No more! No more Blue Eyes! Jed ran with his bayonet at the ready, his mouth open wide, his tortured throat spewing out an unrecognizable inhuman screeching that filled the sky. In the deadly silence beneath the blanketing sound, he stabbed with all his strength. Get away from him, get away, get away! The Blue Eyes tumbled back and fell, pouring blood all over David. Jed threw his rifle aside and dropped to the ground. He pushed the Blue Eyes away, his hand covered in hot blood, and put his head to David's chest. Alive! He turned to stone. His own blue eyes stared into dead eyes fixed on him from across David's body. They weren't Blue Eyes. They were Minnesota-sky blue eyes set into Vernon Cooper's stupid, ugly, loyal, hated, dead face.
Panic burned through Jed's torso. He crept backward, shaking his head. He coughed, hacking furiously, trying to dislodge the panic as though it were a physical thing. It wouldn't move. It was filling every space in his body. No more of this! He was going to die. He couldn't get any air. He scuttled like a crab under the trees, groping for his rifle. Why couldn't he see anything? He wiped at his eyes and face with a sleeve and it came away soaking wet. Sweat, blood, salty tears. His arm hit the rifle. He grabbed it in both hands, turning the bayonet point toward himself. He raised up onto his knees and blindly jabbed down, again and again, twisting and stabbing. He didn't feel anything and yet he heard himself screaming as though with pain. He flung the rifle away and started crawling. It took forever, but he got there. He curled up next to David and closed his eyes. Where their bodies touched, he could feel the beating of David's heart. Now, finally, he could have some peace.
Excerpted from HIDDEN © Copyright 2008 by Victoria Lustbader. Reprinted with permission by Forge Books, an imprint of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC. All rights reserved.
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