Page 81 of All We Thought We Knew

I fumed all the way back to the base.

Like many people in America, my mother-in-law andhousemate passed judgement on thousands of people without knowing anything about them other than they were considered enemies of the United States. Yet after getting to know Gunther and hearing his story, I was convinced that, like him, most of the internees throughout the country were innocent victims of government bureaucracy. It wasn’t right to hold them against their will indefinitely, disrupting their lives and families, on the small chance one among them could be a spy.

When the guard at the entrance to Camp Forrest approached my open car window, he grinned. “Good evening, Mrs. Delaney. You sure look nice.”

“Thank you.”

He waved me through, and I wound my way through the vast cantonment to where the internees were housed. A guard I wasn’t familiar with checked my credentials while another man looked in the back seat of the vehicle. When they were satisfied, the young soldier told me where to park and allowed me to enter the area I’d only seen from outside the high barbed-wire fences.

Army jeeps and sedans filled the dirt parking area in front of the mess hall. In the distance I saw rows of small, identical huts, and remembered Gunther’s comments about the poor quality with which they’d been built. I hoped the accommodations in North Dakota were an improvement, especially with the frigid weather that part of the country was known for.

Music drifted through the open door of the building. Two soldiers stood at the entrance, rifles in their hands, but neither looked at me as they chatted. I moved past them and entered.

The large room was crowded with men wearing green uniforms that told the world they were DOJ detainees. Officers stood off to the side in deep discussion with a group of internees. Tables and chairs were pushed to the edges to create space for a dance floor where couples, each comprised of a man in green and a civilian woman, danced to the fast-paced song coming from a Victrola.They shimmied, laughed, and appeared to have what looked like a good time despite the gloomy occasion.

I scoured the room for Gunther but didn’t find him. He hadn’t changed his mind about coming, had he?

A long table occupied the far wall and held a large punch bowl and slices of sheet cake. I made my way to it, needing a distraction.

The young woman serving the refreshments smiled and handed me a cup of pink punch. “Do you know one of the fellas leaving for North Dakota?”

I nodded, not relishing small talk just now.

“I do too,” she said. “I work in the laundry with some of them. They’re nice men. We’re going to miss them.”

“Yes,” I said, grateful to find someone else who had positive things to say about the foreign men. “I’ll miss my friend too.”

The young woman moved to serve someone else, and I stepped out of the way. When I turned to face the room again, my heart stilled.

Gunther stood a few steps away. Although he wore the same green garb as the other men, he stood out, tall and handsome.

He closed the distance between us.

“Good evening, Mrs. Delaney.” His eyes filled with appreciation as he took in my hair, my dress, me. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said, breathless.

We watched as more couples moved onto the dance floor.

Gunther turned to me and grinned. “The jitterbug.”

I chuckled. “Much easier to dance than the quadrille.” I sobered. “I hope you will continue to practice your English. Read out loud to your bunkmates. They’ll enjoy the story.”

His eyes held mine. The music and dancers faded.

“I will miss our time together.”

“I will too.”

We stood silent, our gazes locked. There were so many things I longed to say. I wanted to tell him he’d been the best friend I’d everhad. That our lunch dates were the highlight of my week. That I’d come to care for him and didn’t want him to leave.

“Would you—” he began.

A deep voice startled us both. “Mrs. Delaney.”

I turned to see Colonel Foster. He wore his dress uniform, with medals pinned to his chest. “Colonel Foster, hello.”

His glance took in Gunther. “Mr. Schneider.”