Wartime Wedding

You would've labeled it a shotgun wedding, if you'd seen how we rushed it, snagging the license on Friday morning and exchanging vows that same evening. No white dress, no people-packed pews, simply a long drive in my brother's Chevy, from St. Louis to Morse Mill, Missouri; that July day burned into our memories at a hundred four degrees, no A/C, and a flat tire on the road to the church. Uncle Vernon officiated in a less-than-five-minute ceremony. You mean that's it? Is this legal? I certainly didn't feel married! "They'll think you're pregnant," my mother said. No chance of that, with our entire courtship advanced solely through airmail letters. He was marked for Japan, courtesy of the U. S. Air Force. Only death or instant wedlock were valid pleas for allowing leave. We hadn't clapped lips together in 10 months. When he called, I said yes, and we had the shotgun wedding, without the gun.