could have taken a little journey to nowhere, while Father guarded the tepee and
Nancy did the cooking.
But I said nothing about this to anyone, as the children were as anxious to see
their father and visit with him as I was to get him alone and take him to bed.
Besides… Well, we no longer had an automobile. Before leaving for Plattsburg this
time Brian had sold El Reo Grande.
‘Mo,’ he had said, last year, leaving in April, it made sense to drive to
Plattsburg; I got lots of use out of the Reo there. But only a fool would attempt to
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drive from Kansas City to upstate New York in February. Last year in April I had to
be pulled out of the mud three times; had it been February I simply would not have
made it.
‘Besides,’ Briney had added, with his best Teddy Roosevelt grin, I’m going to buy us
a ten-passenger car. Or eleven. Shall we try for eleven?’
We tried for eleven but failed to ring the cash register that time. Briney went off
to Plattsburg by train, with a promise to me that when he got back,’ he intended to
buy the biggest passenger car available – a seven-passenger, if that was the biggest
– and what did I think of a closed car this time? A Lexington seven-passenger sedan,
for example? Or a Marmon? Or a Pierce-Arrow? Think about it, dear one.
I gave it little thought as I knew that, when the time carne, Brian would make his
own decision. But I was glad to know that we were going to have a bigger motor car.
A five passenger car is a bit cramped for a family of ten. (Or eleven, when I
managed to catch.)
So, when Brian got home on 1 April 1917, we stayed home and did our lovemaking in
bed. After all, it isn’t necessary to do it in the grass.
That night, when we were tired but not ready to go to sleep, I asked, `When must you
return to Plattsburg, my love?’
He was so long in answering that I added, ‘Was that an improper question, Brian? It
has been so long since ’98 that I am unused to the notion of questions that may not
be asked.’
‘My dearest, you may ask any question. Some I may not be able to answer because the
answer is restricted but far more likely I won’t be able to answer because a first
lieutenant isn’t told very much. But this one I can answer. I don’t think I’ll be
going back to Plattsburg. I’m sufficiently sure of it that Ididn’t leave anything
there, not even a toothbrush:
I waited.
‘Don’t you want to know why?’
‘My husband, you will tell me if it suits you. Or when you can.’
‘Maureen, you’re too durned agreeable. Don’t you ever have any female-type
nosiness?’
(Of course I have, dear man – but I get more out of you if I am not nosy!) ‘I would
like to know.’
‘Well… I don’t know what the papers here have been saying but the so-called
“Zimmerman telegram” is authentic. There is not a chance that we can stay out of the
War more than another month. The question is: do we send more troops to the Mexican
border? Or do we send troops to Europe? Or both? Do we wait for Mexico to attack us,
or do we go ahead and declare war on Mexico? Or do we declare war first on the
Kaiser? If we do, do we dare turn our backs on Mexico?’
‘Is it really that bad?’
‘A lot depends on President Carranza. Yes, it’s that bad; I already have my
mobilisation assignment. All it takes is a telegram and I’m on active duty and on my
way to my point of mobilisation… and it’s not Plattsburg.’ He reached out and
caressed me. `Now forget war and think about me, Mrs Mac Gillicuddy:
‘Yes, Clarence.’
Two choruses of `Old Riley’s Daughter’ – later Brian said, `Mrs Mac, that was
acceptable. I think you’ve been practising.’
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