Letter to a G. I.

Dear Dave:

This is in memory of an anniversary-the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I've ever known. Memories of a GI show troop curtains made from barrage balloons-spotlights made from cocoa cans-rehearsals that ran late into the evenings and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theater in Canastel-perhaps a bit too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran a misunderstanding an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.

Drinks at "Coq d'or"-dinner at the "Auberge"-a ring and promise given. The show for 1st Armoured-muscatel, scotch, wine-someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible-a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean, and a picnic of "rations" and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player-competition-miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theater and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other's arms the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn't been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea-pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.

The happiness when told we were going home and the misery when we learned that we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.

We vowed we'd be together again "back home," but fate knew better-you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that where ever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.

Goodnight, sleep well my love.

Brian Keith

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