Listen ...The Women of Camp Sobingo

THE WOMEN OF CAMP SOBINGO by Marilyn Celeste Morris
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Eleanor sat at the dinner table, toying with her food. How could she tell her parents the utterly forbidden—she wanted to marry a soldier?

Albert sat at the head of the long oak table, crumbling his cornbread into a glass of buttermilk. Nell’s stomach rolled; she hated the sight of her father doing that, night after night.

Evan wouldn’t have such a bad habit, she assured herself. When they were married, everything would be perfect.

The low hum of her sisters’ and Buddy’s voices droned on.

How to bring up the subject? Maybe I won’t have to, she thought. Maybe we could just elope. I could pack my bag tonight—and break my parents’ hearts. Better do it now.

“Mom? Dad?”

Martha’s spectacles flashed in the reflection from the overhead light. Albert paused in his savoring of the buttermilk cornbread mixture, his spoon poised expectantly.

“I want you to meet somebody.”

Albert laid his spoon on his plate.

“A boy—a young man—I’ve been seeing.”

“Does this young man have a name?” Martha asked.

“His name is Ralph Mayfield Martin, but everybody calls him Evan.”

“I’ll bet,” Buddy muttered into his plate.

“And what does Mr. Martin do for a 1iving?” her father asked.

Nell took a deep breath. “He’s a private first class at Fort DA Russell.”

Her sisters’ forks paused in midair. The next to youngest, Daisy, quit swinging her feet under the table. Even the baby ceased her cooing to gaze silently at Nell.

Martha leaned forward and nodded at the children—the signal for dismissal. Milk glasses thumped on the tablecloth; knives clanged on their plates. As the children departed, they shot their sister a look that said, “Oh, oh, now you’ve done it!” Only Buddy gave his sister a knowing smile of approval.

Then, all was quiet, save the ticking of the clock on the mantle and the soft rumble of the eastbound Southern Pacific train passing the station blocks away.

Nell twitched in her chair. Martha removed her glasses and polished them on her napkin, a habit Nell had seen as often as she had watched her father crumbling his cornbread into his milk glass.

“Eleanor, you know we’ve forbidden any of our girls to associate with soldiers from the camp, yet you’ve disobeyed us. Why?”

“It started out as a dare. Mary Edwards arranged a blind date, just one blind date with this boy from her boyfriend’s unit. I thought just once I’d go since I’ve been cooped up here with the kids and the chores. I just wanted some fun.”

“I know it’s been hard on you since my illness, and children are a burden on a girl your age, but, Nell, you’ve evidently gone more than once.”

“Yes, I have, and we want to get married. Right away. Before a war—”

Nell’s parents nodded at each other and stood. “We want to talk about this privately, Nell. You understand. It’s quite a surprise."