The Battle of Tarawa

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In the interest of not reverting to the days when my average post was 1,500 words, this post will only include select information. Those who want greater details can check out the sources listed at the end.

My generous thanks to the USMC for putting such wonderful historical monographs online for free!

The Battle of Tarawa was fought from 20–23 November 1943 at Tarawa Atoll in the Gilbert Islands. It was part of Operation Galvanic, the U.S. invasion of the Gilberts. This was the first U.S. offensive in the crucial central Pacific region, and the first time U.S. forces faced significant opposition to an amphibious landing.

In comparison to previous landings, this time the Japanese put up a major fight. There were 18,000 Marines and 17,000 soldiers from the Army’s 27th Infantry Division against 5,000 Japanese Naval defenders. Within 76 hours, the U.S. losses were as high as those from the six months of the Guadalcanal Campaign.

The Japanese spent almost a year fortifying Tarawa, right up till the day of the invasion. Rear Admiral Keiji Shibazaki encouraged his troops by saying, “It would take one million men one hundred years” to take Tarawa.

The Marines made a disastrously miscalculated decision about landing time, rejecting the advice of a New Zealand liaison officer who tried to tell them the tide was all wrong.

The Marines found themselves in neap tide. The water wasn’t high enough for their Higgins boats to clear the reef. Only LVT Alligators were able to clear it.

The Marines had to go the rest of the way on foot through the water. During the lull in the Naval bombardment, the surviving Japanese had gotten back into position and now began firing without stop. Many Marines were dead before they reached shore.

Many LVTs were also taken out of battle. Their hulls weren’t armored, thus making them vulnerable.

With the LVTs unable to clear the sea wall, the first landing wave of Marines were stranded. Most of the remaining LVTs who tried to rescue them were too badly damaged to stay afloat. These Marines remained stuck on the reef 500 yards from shore.

By the end of the first day, half of the LVTs were unusable.

One disaster followed another over the next few days. The Marines who got past the first deadly volley and the underwater tank traps and mines had to contend with wet, heavy, slippery sand, log barricades, and barbed wire traps.

Commanding officer, Col. David Shoup, took schrapnel in the leg and a grazing wound on the neck, but continued leading his men.

The first afternoon, Admiral Shibazaki and his forces were caught walking around in the open. The Marine who spied them communicated with the Navy, who launched a barrage of shells from two nearby destroyers. This prevented another brutal wave of carnage overnight.

Many Marines in the landing wave on the second morning were also shot down, but there was more Naval reinforcement. High casualties continued, but U.S. forces began gaining a toehold of that tiny atoll.

Some Marines moved to Bairiki, the next islet over, where more Japanese were amassing across the sandbars.

Col. Shoup was relieved by Col. Merritt A. Edson, the 2nd Marines’ Chief of Staff, but stayed on as an assistant.

Copyright USMC Archives; Source

After 76 hours of intense fighting and much bloodshed, Tarawa was cleared of Japanese. Only one Japanese officer and 16 enlisted men surrendered. All the others were either killed or chose suicide. Afterwards, the surviving Marines island-hopped to root out any remaining resistance in the vicinity.

During this operation, a force of 175 Japanese Naval infantry on Buariki launched one last stand on 27 November. This battle was over by the end of the day, and all the Gilberts were in U.S. hands.

The heavy U.S. casualties and botched landing sparked much outcry and public protests.

My characters Patya Siyanchuk and Rodya Duranichev are with the 6th Regiment of the 2nd Marine Division at Tarawa. Though Rodya is terrified the entire time, and knows he’s a very unlikely Marine, he holds his own well in battle.

While they’re helping to bury the dead afterwards, Rodya finds a dead Japanese who’s not as disfigured or putrid as the other corpses. He takes three beckoning cats, an omamori, a photograph, and a letter as souvenirs.

These personal objects are meant to show the common humanity of the other side.

Further reading:

Tarawa:  The Incredible Story of One of World War II’s Bloodiest Battles, Robert Sherrod

http://tarawaontheweb.org/

http://www.historyofwar.org/articles/battles_tarawa.html

http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/tarawa.htm

http://www.lonesentry.com/articles/jp-betio-island/index.html

http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/USMC-M-Tarawa/

http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/USMC-C-Tarawa/index.html

http://www.defensemedianetwork.com/stories/slugging-it-out-in-tarawa-lagoon/

http://www.awesomestories.com/asset/view/Tarawa-Captured-by-Allies-in-1943

http://www.ww2gyrene.org/spotlight7_tarawa.htm

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The Battle of Saipan

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In the interest of not reverting to the days when my average post was 1,500 words, this post will only include select information. Those who want greater details can check out the sources listed at the end.

My generous thanks to the USMC for putting such wonderful historical monographs online for free!

The Battle of Saipan lasted from 15 June–9 July 1944 on the island of Saipan, part of the Marianas. It was nicknamed Death Valley, Hell’s Pocket, and Purple Heart Ridge due to the intense fighting and high casualties.

Over the three weeks and three days of battle, 71,000 Marines and members of the Army’s 27th Infantry Division faced off against 32,000 soldiers of the Imperial Japanese Army. Navajo code-talkers prevented disasters during several key moments.

A preliminary bombardment began 13 June, from fifteen battleships. The landings began at 7:00 AM on 15 June. Unlike the disastrous landing by Tarawa in November 1943, this time there was no neap tide stranding Marines on a reef or forcing them to go the rest of the way on foot through the water.

Some Marines, however, landed at the wrong place, due to the LVT drivers not heeding their pleas to bear to the right. The drivers had swerved north to avoid a violent strafing attack, but that didn’t take them to their planned disembarkation point.

About twenty LVTs were destroyed, and casualties were high as Marines encountered traps of barbed wire, trenches, mines, pillboxes, and combatants hiding in the underbrush. Prior to the landing, they were issued pamphlets explaining what to expect, and the signs of booby traps and mines.

During that brutal first day, a mortar landed on the 2nd Regiment’s command post and wounded their new commander, Major Howard Rice, who’d just taken over from the also-wounded Lt. Col. Raymond Murray.

By the first nightfall, the 2nd and 4th Marines had taken a beachhead six miles (ten kilometers) wide and 0.5 miles (one kilometer) deep. The Japanese attacked again that night, but the Marines put up an intense counterattack and repulsed them.

The bugler who’d sounded the alarm of the night attack was killed by a bullet going up his instrument’s windpipe.

The Imperial Japanese Navy bit off more than they could chew by deciding to attack the nearby U.S. Navy ships too. This new, independent Battle of the Philippine Sea crushed much of their naval strength.

Having lost all hope of reinforcements and resupply, the cards were decisively cast for U.S. victory, but the Japanese were determined to fight to the last man, woman, and child.

After Lt. Gen. Yoshitsugu Saito ordered a suicidal banzai charge, it became impossible for the Marines to distinguish civilians from soldiers.

At dawn on 7 July, the banzai charge began. Behind the remaining 3,000 able-bodied soldiers were the wounded. This attack almost destroyed the 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 105th Infantry Regiment, but they refused to retreat. Many other Marines also fought back.

Saipan was officially secured by 4:15 PM on 9 July. Human costs were high, as 22,000 of the almost 30,000 Japanese dead were civilians. On the U.S. side, over 10,000 were wounded and over 3,000 killed.

My characters Patya Siyanchuk and Rodya Duranichev serve with the 6th Marine Regiment of the 2nd Marine Division at Saipan. Once again, Rodya is terrified, but determined to prove himself as a real Marine who doesn’t need his best friend constantly protecting him.

The second morning, Rodya investigates a suspicious noise, and ends up attacked by a Japanese. Patya has to come to his rescue yet again, and Rodya feels like an unmanly failure.

On their way to the medic, Patya is wounded by a rifle grenade. Now it’s up to Rodya to find the attackers and prove his mettle as a Marine, in spite of a seriously wounded shoulder.

Further reading:

http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/ref/Saipan-HB/index.html

http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/USMC-M-Saipan/index.html

http://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/USMC-C-Saipan/index.html

http://www.ww2gyrene.org/spotlight7_saipan.htm

Queens Village and the qalam

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Copyright Metropolitan Transportation Authority of the State of New York; Source

Queens Village is a very spacious, green, suburban neighborhood in eastern Queens. It started life as Little Plains in the 1640s, and then became known as Brushville in the 1820s, after prosperous resident Thomas Brush.

Mr. Brush put down roots in the neighborhood with a blacksmith shop in 1824, and after achieving great financial success, he built a factory and a few other shops.

The first railway came on 1 March 1837.

St. Joseph’s Episcopal Church

In 1856, residents voted to change the neighborhood’s name to Queens, but both the neighborhood and depot were called Inglewood and Queens during the 1860s and 1870s. The former name Brushville also continued to be used.

When the borough of Queens was incorporated into NYC in 1898, and Nassau County was created in 1899, the border between them was designated directly east of the neighborhood. By at least 1901, the name Queens Village had arisen.

The Long Island village of Lloyd Harbor, formerly in Queens County but now in Suffolk County, was called Queens Village from 1685–1883. In 1923, Long Island Railroad added “Village” to the Queens neighborhood’s station’s name to avoid confusion with Queens County as a whole.

193rd St. war memorial

Queens Village contains the sub-neighborhoods of Hollis Hills (a very wealthy area) and Bellaire (the largest section of the neighborhood).

Many people seeking a suburban lifestyle and fleeing the congestion of Manhattan came to Queens Village starting in the 1920s. A great many of the Tudor and Dutch Colonial homes built during this era still stand, and attract a new generation of people wanting a slower, less crowded lifestyle.

Queens Village LIRR Station, Copyright Metropolitan Transportation Authority of the State of New York; Source

Like many other NYC neighborhoods, Queens Village too once had a large, thriving Jewish community, but today the population mainly consists of African–Americans, Caribbeans, Guyanese, Filipinos, Asian Indians, Jamaicans, and Hispanics.

Recent demographic developments include an increased amount of Asian–Americans and Middle Eastern Jews.

Southbound view of LIRR bridge over Springfield Blvd. and the Hempstead-bound platform at Queens Village station, Copyright DanTD

Landmarks include American Martyrs Catholic Church, Chapel of the Redeemer Lutheran, Hollis Hills Jewish Center, and the Windsor Park Branch of the Queens Borough Public Library. Nearby are Alley Pond Park, Cunningham Park, and Long Island Motor Parkway.

Remnant of Long Island Motor Parkway, Copyright Nowa at English Wikipedia

My characters Rodya Duranichev, Valentina Kuchma, Patya Siyanchuk, and Vladlena Zyuganova move from Manhattan to Queens Village with their children in the late summer of 1945. Both Valentina and Vladlena are expecting again, and they want a fresh new life in a more spacious corner of the city, with detached houses and yards.

Their children are delighted to discover each house has a pool in the backyard, though Patya is less than delighted to discover a little girl next door, Ruth Blumstein, thinks he’s a monster on account of his missing arm.

Copyright Aieman Khimji

qalam is a dried reed pen used for Islamic calligraphy, particularly creating those beautiful Persian and Arabic letters. It’s also a symbol of wisdom and education in the Koran. Sura 68 is called “Al-Qalam,” and describes Allah’s justice and the judgment day.

The etymology comes from the Greek kalamos (reed). In modern Arabic, Persian, Kurdish, and Turkish, it means “pencil” or “pen.” In Hindi, Urdu, and Bengali, it just means “pen.”

Copyright Baba66

My character Inna Zhirinovskaya receives, among many other things, a qalam set in a leather case for her 31st birthday in October 1937, a present from her admirer Arkasha Orlov (a prince by birth). They met in Aden in June, and Arkasha has been hopelessly smitten since then.

Arkasha gave her a lesson in Persian writing with a normal fountain pen a few weeks earlier, and Inna was mortified when she involuntarily gasped at the sensation of his hand over hers. She knows both Arkasha and her little brother Vitya heard that.

That night on the Siosepel Bridge, Inna agrees to be his sweetheart.

Omamori

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Copyright jetalone; Source

Omamori (御守 or お守り) are Japanese Shinto and Buddhist amulets worn or carried for various types of good luck. Omamori is the honorific form of mamori (守り) (protection).

Omamori are often dedicated to Buddhist figures or Shinto kami (spirits), and sold by shrines and temples. Though they resemble bookmarks, they’re paper or wood prayers enclosed within a brocade bag.

They became popular in the Edo period (1603–1868).

Copyright 松岡明芳

Copyright Kanko*; Source

Traditionally, omamori aren’t opened, for fear of losing their protection and luck. They’re carried in a pocket, purse, backpack, etc., or tied to a suitcase, handbag, cellphone strap, car mirror, etc. Omamori are supposed to be replaced once a year, to chase away the past year’s bad luck.

Old omamori should be returned to the temple or shrine they came from, to be disposed of properly. This is similar to the Jewish genizah, a storage area for worn-out religious books, papers, and Torahs in a synagogue or library. Periodically, the contents are collected and properly buried.

Old omamori are typically returned on or shortly after New Year’s, so one may start the new year off fresh. Instead of buried, the old ones are burnt, to show respect to the spirit who helped that person in the past year.

Copyright Sun Taro; Source 2014SpringKyoto

There are many types of omamori, with purposes including:

Avoidance of evil (yaku-yoke)
Safety for one’s family and peace at home (kanai-anzen)
Luck in business and money (shobai-hanjo)
Better luck (kaiun)
Safety in travel and driving (kotsu-anzen)
Luck with school and passing tests (gakugyo-joju)
Love luck or continued love and success in one’s relationship (en-musubi)
Protection during pregnancy and childbirth (anzan)

In the modern era, it’s not uncommon to see omamori with sports motifs, or featuring popular characters like Donald Duck, Minnie Mouse, and Hello Kitty. Another modern development is omamori for the protection of pets.

Obviously, these contemporary omamori aren’t sold in shrines or temples!

One need not be Buddhist or Shinto to buy omamori, or even Japanese, but it’s common decency to respect their religious nature and purpose. They shouldn’t be treated like bookmarks or exotic tokens to display.

If a temple or shrine doesn’t have an omamori which matches one’s needs or wants, one can ask a priest to have it custom-made. The shrine or temple may begin producing those types of omamori in large quantities if there are enough requests.

Copyright 田島飛松

Copyright FlipTable

Traditionally, only shrines and temples made omamori, but with their increasing popularity in the modern era, many popular shrines and temples have farmed their production out to factories. In spite of this, some priests take strong issue with the quality and spirituality of these mass-produced omamori.

Some modern omamori eschew the traditional wood and paper for materials such as credit cards, bike reflectors, and bumper decals.

Copyright Igor 1045

My character Rodya Duranichev finds an omamori in the pockets of a dead Japanese soldier when he and his best friend, Patya Siyanchuk, are helping with burying both dead Americans and Japanese during the Battle of Tarawa in November 1943.

Rodya also finds a letter, a photo of the soldier with his wife, and black, white, and red beckoning cats. He takes them as souvenirs, though he has no idea what they are.

Rodya keeps the cats and omamori on his person during the Battles of Saipan and Tinian, in the hopes they’re good luck charms.

Copyright FlipTable

While he’s in Hawaii after being wounded at Tinian (on top of his previous wounding from Saipan), waiting to be sent home, someone tells him what the four amulets mean.

Those amulets, the photo, and the letter on the dead Japanese soldier are meant to show the common humanity of the other side. We’re more alike than we are different.

July 4th, 1938

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In case anyone is reading blogs today, here’s a holiday-themed excerpt. This is the third section of Chapter 43, “Tempting Fate,” of Journey Through a Dark Forest. Nineteen-year-old Tatyana has been living with her blood father Boris for the past year in Harlem, and hasn’t abated in the surly attitude she’s been copping towards her family since discovering the truth of her paternity. This is extremely hurtful to her little brother Fedya, but her attitude is staying put.

July-4th

On the Fourth of July, just as promised, Fedya and Novomira tag along to Rockaway Beach and Rockaways’ Playland.  Even if they had the sense not to stay at Boris’s house, they’re still doing a damn good job of being a thorn in Tatyana’s side during this weekend she was looking forward to so much.  The only moment of peace she’s gotten so far was yesterday at Gavrik’s baptism, and then Fedya and Novomira began tagging along with her friends all over again.  They’re even younger than Vasya and don’t belong in a group consisting of mostly university students.  Worse yet, her friends seem to like both of them, and Valentina, Rodya, and Vladlena in particular are fascinated by Fedya’s left-handedness.  Tatyana has been shown up by her own brother.

“I’d like to watch the local parade before we head to the beach or amusement park,” Novomira says as they board the subway.

“What for?” Tatyana snaps. “If you’ve seen one parade, you’ve seen them all.  Parades stopped being interesting after I passed the age of twelve.  They’re boring, hot, and require too much standing in a crowd.  And there are all the whining, screaming children.”

“Don’t you work with children?” Fedya asks. “And I presume you’d like your own kids someday.”

“Our children at camp are well-behaved, and know not to throw tantrums or do whatever they want.  I don’t like dealing with other people’s brats.”

“We can always find a stoop to sit on, or I can rent some folding chairs,” Nikolay suggests. “It’s been awhile since Mira and Fedya have seen a really big parade.  Minnesota can’t compare with the big city.  Valya and Vladka have never seen a Fourth of July parade.  I’d hate to have them miss out during their first July Fourth.”

Tatyana has a seat and crosses her arms tightly, keeping a firm hold on her ocelots’ leashes.

july4012 (333 x 450)

“I’m most looking forward to the fireworks tonight,” Valentina says. “We didn’t have them very often in Minsk.”

“What’s a Fourth of July parade like?” Vladlena asks. “We had lots of parades back home, but they were more like political inspiration than entertainment.  They were held in honor of important national holidays and heroes.  I don’t know if many civilians could take part other than for something like music or a special exhibit a school made.”

“They’re kind of boring once you’ve seen a few,” Tatyana repeats. “A bunch of floats, loud brass music, people in costumes, flags, balloons, that sort of thing.  Some of the people marching or on the floats toss candy and other trinkets.  It’s a little like Macy’s Thanksgiving parade, only now the weather is nice enough to watch it in person instead of hearing the radio broadcast.  I think July Fourth is best if you’re a little kid and don’t have the sense to be annoyed by mosquitoes, heat, crowds, and noise.”

“Not everyone feels the same way as you,” Nikolay warns. “You were behaving so well until our families came here.  I thought being away from them for so long would get you to see things differently and go back to your old sweet self.”

“I’d prefer if they’d continued leaving me alone.  I just know my stepfather planned his birthday party for New York just to irritate me and try to guilt me through these two.”

vintage-july-4-postcard

Fedya struggles to contain his hurt in front of these sophisticated older people. “You were always such a great big sister to me, and you liked Mira as well.  I had nothing to do with this coverup of your true paternity.  I didn’t even know about it until you did.  How can some one-sided letter from a known scoundrel magically erase all your love for your family and the man who raised you?”

“You’d feel the same way if you were the one who were lied to your entire life.  Thank God my real father is a modern, sensible person who approves of young ladies shaving their legs, wearing makeup, staying out late within reason, being alone with their steady beaux, and using perfume.  He’s not some overly moral plaster saint like your father.  That man needs to grow up and enter the twentieth century.  His rigid ideas of right and wrong are so Medieval.”

Nikolay is by now strongly convinced Tatyana’s rejection of Ivan and rather haughty, uncharacteristic behavior were caused by some petty teenage grievance against an old-world father with an admittedly very black and white view of the world.  She’s more dissatisfied with some of Boris’s behavior than she let onto their families.  He just needs to figure out a way to push her towards investigating their dubious benefactor’s past, coupled with some serious reflection on how she just gave up the loving father-daughter relationship she and Ivan enjoyed for eighteen years.  Tatyana surely realizes how rare it is for any man to raise another man’s baby as his own and marry a fallen woman with an illegitimate child.  Boris couldn’t even marry Lyuba after he got her in trouble.

kidfw7

Instead of heading right to the beach when the subway reaches Queens, their group sets off towards the main thoroughfare in search of a parade.  After a resident provides directions, Tatyana lags behind everyone and kicks at pebbles, refusing to talk to anyone.  Fedya and Novomira have a seat on the sidewalk, and Valentina and Vladlena find room on the cement stairs outside a bright green apartment.  Tatyana is the last one in their group to find a place to sit.

For the entire parade, Tatyana stares off into space and barely notices the loud music and cacophony of voices.  She barely even cares when some of the candy being thrown from floats lands near her.  Nikolay has to collect it for her.  After probably a good three hours, when the parade ends and the crowd breaks up, they finally start for the amusement park.

July-4-Vintage-Card

“Don’t be disappointed,” Rodya tells Valentina. “This place isn’t as big as Coney Island, but it’s still got some nice rides.  We’ll probably have fewer crowds, even if today’s a big holiday.  Everyone always heads for Coney Island.  Mostly only locals come here.”

“I like amusement parks no matter how small they are,” Valentina proclaims. “We’ll be back to work tomorrow, so we should enjoy the long vacation.”

“I wish I could enjoy the long weekend too,” Tatyana mumbles.

“Why are you acting like this?” Nikolay asks. “What have Mira and Fedya ever done to you to make you hate or resent them?  They’re just trying to have some fun in the big city, away from adults and children they don’t have much in common with.  We’re not that much older than they are.”

A sour feeling is in the pit of Tatyana’s stomach the entire time at the amusement park.  She doesn’t even snuggle up next to Nikolay in the rides, as the other three couples do.  The presence of her brother and his girlfriend has so perturbed her, she can’t relax and think of anything but how much she deeply resents their unwanted company.  Their time on the beach isn’t much better, though at least she has more privacy there and is able to sit and swim as far away from them as possible.

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“She’s really not like this normally,” Nikolay says in embarrassment on the subway home. “I don’t know why she’s acting like some spoilt child again all of a sudden.  She was doing so well this entire past year.”

“Does she really think we’re too young and stupid to buddy around with?” Novomira asks. “We used to be buddies.  I’m only two and a half years her junior, and Fedya’s not quite three and a half years her junior.  That’s not a really big age difference, since we grew up together.  It’s not like I’m some babyish ten-year-old tagging along with the sophisticated older kids.”

“It’s not that.  She’s just sorting out some confusion and annoyance with Dyadya Vanya.  I really think she’ll return to normal with a little more time, but I can’t force her to feel differently.  She probably does still love you deep down.  I’ve studied situations like this in some of my psychology and sociology classes.”

“Are you coming back to Minnesota when you graduate?” Fedya asks. “I don’t want to be joined at the hip with my family, but I always thought we’d have our own little farms on the same property.  It won’t feel right if you and Tanya stay in New York.  It still feels strange that my big sister isn’t around anymore.  Now she doesn’t even like me anymore, after how good she always was with me.”

“I’m going to start my own farm, even if I like big city life.  I doubt I could live here long-term.  It’s just not the type of life I could see for myself forever.  Tanya’s a farm girl at heart, even if she likes to give the impression of this important, modern, fashionable big city girl.  This is probably just a form of rebellion and trying on a new persona.  All perfectly normal.  So long as she figures out the right path before Malenkov reverts back to scoundrelhood, no one is really hurt that deeply.”

the-creepiest-fourth-of-july-card-ever-624x395

Once they’ve reached Central Park, Tatyana flings her blanket down and rubs lemongrass on her arms and legs to repel any mosquitoes.  She takes Nikolay’s hand and smiles at him, grateful Fedya and Novomira have the good sense to sit far away from them.

Fedya throws his arm around Novomira and stares up at the fireworks as they start. “What crawled down her throat and died?  She’s never had this kind of rude attitude as long as I can remember.  How can someone just go from nice to mean overnight?  Is she using drugs?”

“Kolya was saying something about her just rebelling to get some kind of taste of a different personality.  It’s some kind of concept from psychology.  Maybe she really did resent Dyadya Vanya for a long time, and then just went off on everyone after she found out another man’s her blood father.  I’ve never had much interest in copying moviestar fashions and modern American fads, but I’m sure my father would be understanding and accommodating of things like reasonable makeup and shorter skirts.  She does have a point about your father being pretty old-fashioned and having these really outdated ideas of how women should look and act.  Who knows why he picked Tyotya Lyuba, with her very modern views and tomboyish past.”

“I never really thought about that.  I just thought my father was really old-fashioned in some ways but modern and sensible in others.  He thinks girls should have a higher education, even if he’s horrified by things like women wearing pants and my mother working outside the house.  My mother, for all her modern ideas, still doesn’t wear makeup, high heels, or some of these modern fashions, and she only shaved her legs when she was working our last year in New York.  I wonder if my younger sisters will act like Tanya too, wanting to be these modern American girls.”

“My mother says I’m a nice blend of two worlds.  I like being a modern American, but I also like the Russian and Estonian parts of myself.  Maybe Tanya’s embarrassed because we’re not as modern or American as she’d like to be.”

fourth-of-july-uncle-sam-patriotic1

During the fireworks, Novomira leans against Fedya and occasionally runs her fingers along his left hand.  Though the bruises and rope burn left by Miss Cavendish disappeared years ago, she still remembers them, and wonders if his hand might have some invisible trauma still left in it.  Surely invisible wounds need tender loving care as much as physical wounds.  He needs all the love and affection possible, particularly now when he’s been rebuffed by the sister he always worshipped.

During the finale of green, silver, white, orange, and blue fireworks, Fedya leans over and kisses her.  Novomira smiles up at him and giggles.

“What was that for?”

“Just because I like you so much.  Now was as good a time as any.” He does it again, this time putting his hands around her shoulders.

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One blanket away, Valentina looks away jealously and ever so slightly edges away from Rodya.  As the fireworks die down, Rodya becomes aware of her muffled noises and quivering shoulders.

“Did something happen to you?” Rodya puts his hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me what’s wrong.  Are you worried about getting accepted to Barnard with less than perfect English?  That’s not the measure of your worth.”

“Do you really consider me your girlfriend, or am I more like a friend who just happens to be a woman?  Or are you just extremely old-fashioned?”

“Of course you’re my sweetheart.  Just because we’ve never had a private date doesn’t mean we’re not official.  It’s just easier to triple-date and go out as an octet.”

“Well, right now I don’t exactly feel like your real girlfriend.  Those two have only been going steady for about a month and a half, and they’re already doing more than just holding hands.  They’re younger than we are.  I thought everyone did that at our age and after five and a half months.”

Rodya looks quickly at Fedya and Novomira, then looks away in embarrassment. “Is that all you’re upset about?  I thought you liked that I respect you enough to not make unsolicited advances so soon.  You’re the sweetest girl I ever dated, not like some fast, loose woman who expects certain things by the third or even first date.”

“I’m not that old-fashioned.  I’m not some Victorian woman who expects a chaste courtship.  Why can’t we have a few private dates every now and then?  Just because Tanya doesn’t trust herself alone with her boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m that old-fashioned or incapable of self-control.”

Rodya slips his arm around her. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never had a boyfriend or even gone on a date before me?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make up for lost time now.  If you’ve already done that with previous dates and girlfriends, you shouldn’t be afraid to do it with me.”

“I like you more than any of the other girls I’ve ever dated.  I think I might even love you.” Rodya pulls her towards him and kisses her.

Valentina gazes up at him afterwards. “Was that so difficult?  You’re pretty good.”

“You taste sweet, like strawberries.  I’m glad you don’t wear makeup.  I don’t want lipstick rubbing off on me.”

“Can we practice doing that again?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Valentina is only just starting to get the hang of it when she hears footsteps.  She abruptly pulls away from Rodya and hides her face in embarrassment at the sight of Patya and Vladlena.

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“All good things must come to an end,” Patya chides affectionately. “You can have your own private date on your own time.  We need to get home now.  Work starts at eight-thirty tomorrow.”

Rodya pulls Valentina up and walks her out to the Rochet-Schneider.  After the all-too-short drive home, he walks her up to the apartment via the fire escape and kisses her goodnight.  Valentina’s heart beats a little faster when she feels his hands wandering, though at least he’s keeping them above her clothes and not going below her waist.  Just as she’s tentatively starting to pet him back, the fire escape door swings open.

“I wondered what was taking you so long,” Inessa says. “You do know what that causes, don’t you?”

“He’s fine.” Valentina smoothes her blouse down, her heart still racing. “We were just making up for lost time.”

Rodya smiles at her as Inessa shuts the door in his face.

“Remember, self-control is very important for a woman,” Inessa says. “If you want to do more than neck and pet, you have to get married.  It’s too dangerous to risk going further without marriage.  These things happen, but you don’t want to get caught in a scandal unawares.  Make sure you set limits with him the next time that happens.  I don’t like the double standard and delayed gratification, but it is what it is.” She smiles devilishly. “But in the meantime, you’ve got two perfectly good hands.  No woman ever got pregnant by her own hand before.”