BACK TO SCHOOL
March felt lonely as he stood on the corner opposite the railroad station in New London, waiting for the bus. It was cold and there was rain in the air. The wind whipped about him as he stood close to the building.
The Plymouth was a world miles away by this time, although it had been less than a month since he left it. First there had been the wait of a few days in Hawaii before they found space in a plane heading back for the United States. But those had been good days—interesting in that they saw how completely erased were the effects of the first terrible Jap attack. Then, too, there had been time to rest, to swim and to lie in the sun on the beach.
Finally the long over-water hop had brought them back to America, which they had left so long before. It was the first time either March or Scoot had been in San Francisco, and they enjoyed the two days spent there before taking the train east. Finally there had been two weeks’ leave back in Hampton. They had seen their parents, visited their old friends, slept late and eaten huge meals. They had even been persuaded to make an embarrassed appearance—supposed to be accompanied by speeches—in the assembly hall of the old high school.
Their leave had come to an end all too soon. Then both young men had been faced with the prospect of saying goodbye not only to their folks and their friends, but to each other. It was one fact that both of them had tried to avoid thinking about, but as the time approached they were very aware of it. For so many years they had been together almost every day—but they had taken each other for granted. It never occurred to them that they were closer than many brothers, that each one supplied something necessary and important to the other.
They couldn’t say much, of course, when they finally did say goodbye. It was March’s train which left first, although Scoot would be heading south only two hours later. They were all at the station in Hampton—March’s mother, Scoot’s father and mother and kid sister. March had to say goodbye to all of them and step on to the train alone.
He shook hands with Scoot. “My golly,” he stammered, “I’m going to be worried about you, Scoot. You’ve had me around to look after you and keep you out of trouble so long, that I don’t know how you’ll make out alone.”
They all laughed a little, and Scoot tried to kid back at March, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“Don’t worry about me,” he replied. “I think the baby is busy worrying about the nurse this time. Anyway, if it makes you feel good, March, maybe you’ll have a chance to get me out of trouble later—out in the Pacific somewhere.”
“Say—maybe I will at that!” March tried to act serious. “I can just see myself dashing up in my trusty submarine and rescuing you from a bunch of Japs.”