November 11, 1918
We heard the shouting first. Hazel came running from the kitchen into the sitting room where Mary and I sat on the floor and played with her dolls. Her Aunt Ginevra had made them new clothes; the lack of customers in these years of war gave her the time.
Winter had not quite come to Newport, though fall began to bow to it. Despite the chill, we opened the windows to try to hear better. We couldn"t. Just voices, a jumble of loud voices.
“Do you think we are under attack?” Hazel twisted and squeezed the cleaning cloth in her hands. “Is it the Germans again? Are they attacking us?”
My daughter"s eyes beseeched me more with the woman"s every word.
“Now Hazel.” I couldn"t completely chide her. We had all been on worried guard after the German U-boat left us as friends onl
