The crowd turned toward her, stilled for a moment.
“It’s a damn Young Republican!” someone shouted.
Frankie forced herself to keep walking.
“Oh man,” someone else said. “This chick is crazy.”
“Don’t go in there, man!”
Frankie opened the recruiting station’s doors. Inside she saw a desk beneath a sign that read: BE A PATRIOT. JOIN THE NAVY. A sailor in uniform stood at the end of the table.
Frankie closed the door behind her and went to the recruiting desk.
Protesters banged on the window. Frankie tried not to flinch or appear nervous or afraid.
“I’m a nurse,” she said, ignoring the sounds coming from outside. “I’d like to join the Navy and volunteer for Vietnam.”
The sailor glanced nervously at the crowd outside. “How old are you?”
“Twenty, sir. Twenty-one next week.”
“The Navy requires two years of service before they send you to Vietnam, ma’am. You’ll need to do two years stateside, in a hospital, before you ship out.”
Two years. The war would be over by then. “You don’t need nurses in Vietnam?”
“Oh, we need them.”
“My brother is in Vietnam. I … want to help.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Rules are rules. It’s for your own safety, believe me.”
Dispirited but not discouraged, Frankie left the recruiting office—hurried past the protesters, who yelled obscenities at her—and found a nearby phone booth, where she consulted the Los Angeles yellow pages and found the address for the nearest Air Force recruiting station.
Once there, she was told the same thing, that she needed more stateside experience before shipping out to Vietnam.
At the Army recruiting station, she finally heard what she wanted to hear: Sure, ma’am. The Army Nurse Corps needs nurses. We could ship you right out after Basic.
Frankie signed her name on the dotted line, and just like that, she was Second Lieutenant Frances McGrath.
Three
By the time Frankie got back on island, the streetlamps were coming on. Downtown Coronado was dressed for the holidays with streamers and lights; white-bearded, red-coated Santas stood in front of several shops, ringing bells. Illuminated snowflakes hung from lines strung above the street.
At home, Frankie found her parents in the living room, dressed for dinner. Dad stood at the bar, flipping through the newspaper, while Mom sat in her favorite chair by the fire, smoking a cigarette and reading a Graham Greene novel. The house was decked out for the holidays, with an extravagance of lights and a ten-foot tree.
At Frankie’s entrance, Dad closed the newspaper and smiled at her. “Heya, Peanut.”
“I have news,” Frankie said, practically bursting with excitement.
“You’ve met a boy you like,” Mom said, putting down her novel. “Finally.”
Frankie came to a stop. “A boy? No.”
Mom frowned. “Frances, most of the girls your age—”
“Mom,” Frankie said impatiently, “I’m trying to tell you something important.” She took a deep breath and said, “I joined the Army Nurse Corps. The ANC. I’m now Second Lieutenant McGrath. I’m going to Vietnam. I’ll get to be with Finley for part of his tour!”
“That’s hardly funny, Frances,” Mom said.
Dad stared at Frankie, unsmiling. “I don’t think she’s joking, Bette.”
“You joined the Army?” Mom said slowly, as if the words were a foreign language that she was trying to sound out.
“I’d salute but I don’t know how. Basic Training starts in three weeks. Fort Sam Houston.”
Frankie frowned. Why weren’t they congratulating her? “McGraths and Alexanders always serve,” she said. “You were thrilled when Finley volunteered.”
“The men serve,” Dad said sharply. “The men.” He paused. “Wait. Did you say the Army? We’re a Navy family, always have been. Coronado is a Navy island.”
“I know, but the Navy wouldn’t let me go to Vietnam until I’d served two years in a hospital stateside,” she said. “Same with the Air Force. They said I didn’t have enough experience. Only the Army would let me go right after Basic Training.”
“Sweet Jesus, Frankie,” Dad said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s a reason for rules like that.”
“Take it back. Unvolunteer.” Mom looked at Dad. She got to her feet slowly. “Good Lord, what will we tell people?”