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I gripped the rail to balance myself against the sway of the ocean. The cold salt water sprayed my face. This was not a good start to the next seven days. At least the sea was calm. It felt endless. I was sure Vance, Jackson, Ritchie, and Trantham would still be hungover for a while. I wouldn’t call alcohol and the open sea a good combination.
I had been on plenty of boats before to fish and travel up and down Mobile Bay and the river delta, but it was nothing like traveling the Atlantic on the Queen Mary. No birds, no land, nothing else but us. I lay there on the deck, lost in thought. I shouldn’t have waited so long. I thought about all the things I could have done. I pictured her face.
“You’d come find me, wouldn’t you?” she said as we lay on the grass in Bienville Square. Her smile creased upward as she looked up at me. I noticed the scar on her eyebrow.
“I have a scar on my eyebrow too. When I was young, my dad came home with food, and I rushed toward the door. Right as I approached—wham! I went flying.” We laughed.
“You must have been pretty hungry. I got mine from running into the countertop. It was the perfect height.”
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Did I fail her? I did what I said I was going to do, but it wasn’t enough. My future remained a mystery. What once brought me peace was now a distant hope. Nothing puts a nail in the coffin like a proposal. At least I went. That’s what I’d tell myself again and again. It wasn’t that I didn’t date other women or try; I just couldn’t replace the void I had in my heart.
I held the wired railing and replayed the image of Magdalyn in my head: the first night, the first kiss. Even if she was gone, she represented something that I could never let go of. If I could feel that way once, I could feel it again. To have even had it at all—I was quite the lucky man. My
heart sank when I realized how close we were getting into the thick of it.
“Give me a smoke, Battle.” The voice stuck out in the sea of people. The Vance and Jackson approached.
“You better not be thinking about jumping off. I’m not going in after you.” Jackson always had a way with words.
“We’re finally going to war. We may never see that shore again. This water. All of it.” I wasn’t deterred by humor this time.
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“That’s true. So we might as well make the best of it.” He pointed off as the vast skyline faded. “That’s our home over there.”
“Say goodbye to innocence.” Ritchie walked up as we all leaned over and looked.
“I know this may be too soon, but since this might be the only time I get to say this—we need to stick together so we all come back. I don’t know what my mom would do without me.” It was rare to see this side of Vance.
“What kind of s**t did I just walk into?” Trantham came up to complete the crew. I looked at him and shook my head in unison with the rest.
“Well, s**t.” He pursed his lips in agreement.
“My mom would kill us all if we didn’t come back to her. Betty would wake us from the grave to kick our asses again.” Jackson’s mom was like our big mama.
“I hope Michelle would be okay. It would kill her.” My sister was always there for me.
“I couldn’t do that to Steph.” Trantham clenched his fist.
“Well, boys, make your letters. I’m not saying it’ll be our last chance at writing them or that we aren’t coming back, but we have no idea what’s on the other side of that ocean, waiting for us.”
Vance flicked his cigarette into the Atlantic. I took a mental snapshot of the men beside me—my best friends. Then the moment was gone.
“Let’s go get something to eat.”
America faded away into the distance. Her last speck of land reached out until our new home gave way to the open sea. I turned around and got a glimpse of distant luxury: a transatlantic liner turned troopship. I wondered what she looked like before the years of war had beaten her down.
“Dear Lord, how many guys are on this ship? Ten thousand? Fifteen thousand?” Ritchie squeezed through three others, making his way to our huddle. “You know it’s only designed to carry about two thousand.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I looked around to see if it was on a sign.
“How do you not? Did you pay attention to anything? We have been at war for over two years now.”
“Man, this would be the jackpot for a U-boat.” Trantham’s gaze swept upward at the decks of servicemen that appeared as if they were ants overflowing their hill. “I hope
they weren’t lying about her nickname.”
“I bet Ritchie knows that one.” Vance looked at Ritchie.
“Actually, I don’t.” Finally, he didn’t know a random fact.
“Grey Ghost.” Trantham’s tone drifted off. “Apparently, it blends in with the water because of the paint.”
The dining rooms were now mess halls. I could feel the heat as we snaked through the line with our hands clutched to our metal trays.
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to be New York food.” I watched as the cook’s ladle dumped some stew on my plate as we moved on.
After chow, I made my way to the confined space of the living quarters. Modifications had been made to limit the openness, replaced with bunks stacked three to four high, tightly packed to maximize capacity. I now knew why the decks were so full. This place was suffocating. The air
carried the scents of sweat, damp uniforms, and oil from the ship’s engines. I took a tour of the ship, weaving through the chaos, taking it all in.
Cigarette smoke wafted into the salty ocean breeze as men leaned over the rails, staring at the endless expanse of sea. Below deck, conversations, laughter, and the occasional argument echoed through the narrow corridors. I made my way to the upper deck before I was pulled aside.
This is an excerpt from A Walk Among Heroes by James McDevitt. Published with permission.
Author Bio:
James McDevitt is a U.S. Army infantry officer, firefighter, and combat veteran with deployments to Iraq and Syria. He served with distinction as a commanding officer, leading troops in some of the most demanding environments of modern warfare. McDevitt is the author of A Walk Among Heroes, a historical novel inspired by true events, generational sacrifice, and the quiet strength of men shaped by war and love. His work draws from personal experience and a lifetime of observing what makes people endure, serve, and matter.
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