The middle of nowhere. Wendover Field had been built on the edge of the salt flats that didn’t have much else going for them. The mountains created a visual diversion from the colorless, desolate panorama. Charles Westbrook (my dad) decided to like it. He found advantages of being in a new place like this. It was part of the deal when he enlisted. Summertime allowed his body to acclimate to the season in this part of the vast United States. He realized he had never spent a winter further north than Oklahoma.He didn’t know if he would even be stationed here that long. Used to the stifling humidity and complete lack of breeze of inland Mississippi for the majority of his young life, the dry air felt good to his skin here and the cool nights brought a deep, restful sleep after working all day. He enjoyed exploring the surrounding areas on foot and bicycle in his free time, noticing the quality of the soil and whether it would be beneficial for raising crops. The farmer in him couldn’t help but analyze the arid earth. It reminded him how much he loved the green, lush landscape of Boise and the beautiful woman who lived there.
His mind once again drifted back to the days just before meeting her in June, 1943. He recalled talking with his buddy Wes. They had known each other for a couple of years now. After being transferred to Gowen Field in Boise, during one of their conversations, the subject of Charles’ desire to meet a nice young woman came up. Wes smiled as he asked, “So, C. W., would you prefer a blonde, brunette, or a redhead?” C. W. was one of Charles’ many nicknames.
Charles didn’t hesitate. “How about a redhead!” A blind date was planned and a few nights later they walked up the three steps to Wes’ fiance’ Carol’s home. Wes knocked on the door and Carol let them in. C. W. immediately noticed a pretty redhead sitting on the couch in a flattering navy blue dress.
Wes made the introductions. “Olevia Harris, may I present Charles Westbrook.” C. W.’s heart picked up the pace. “Charles, may I present Olevia.”
“How do you do, Olevia?” C. W. reached for her hand as she stood up. He felt a quick rush of excitement and noticed with a hint of surprise that her lovely dark hazel eyes looked straight into his. This woman was a tall drink of water. He was six feet. Her soft, gentle hand fit into his rough, weathered one perfectly. She shook his hand with a somewhat firm, but not too firm, handshake.
“I’m very happy to meet you, Charles.” Olevia smiled deeply as she felt the blood rushing to her face. His curly black hair made her heart skip a beat. She sized him up in a few seconds. He looked very handsome in his uniform and his blue eyes seemed to smile right along with the rest of his tanned face. He was taller by a couple of inches – perfect for a dancing partner. She wondered if he liked to dance as much as she did. C. W. hesitated a second before he let her hand go.
C. W., Olevia, Wes, Carol, Jones, his girl Peg and a few other friends went to USO dances and clubs together, along with enjoying movies and bowling. It created a much needed distraction from the current events going on in the world. Time flew when they went out together and before he knew it, C. W. got his transfer orders to Wendover Field, Utah, about 300 miles from where he now wanted to be. Olevia drove him to the Boise train depot in her 1935 Dodge coupe that dreaded day where their kisses lingered and their embrace tightened. If only they could stay close to each other a little bit longer. They promised one another it wouldn’t be long until they could be together again. As Charles reluctantly boarded the train and took his seat, he shook his head and wondered how he could be leaving so soon. He had barely met this woman who took his breath away even though he didn’t know much about her. He had been to her home a couple of times and met her mother. They hit it off immediately. He certainly wanted to know more about Olevia. As the train started to slowly chug away from the station for Wendover Field, he looked anxiously out the window for one last sight of her. Olevia stood alone, waving to him slowly, trying her best to smile through the tears that she unsuccessfully tried to hold back. She wondered if she would ever see Charles Westbrook again.