Milly Stephenson. . MYRNA LOY

Al Stephenson . . . FREDERIC MARCH

Fred Derry . . DANA ANDREWS

Peggy Stephenson . . . TERESA WRIGHT

Marie Derry . . VIRGINIA MAYO

Wilma Cameron . . . CATHY O'DONNELL

Butch Engle . . . HOAGY CARMICHAEL

Homer Parrish . . . HAROLD RUSSELL

Hortense Derry . . . GLADYS GEORGE

Pat Derry . . . ROMAN BOHNEN

Mr. Milton . . . . . . RAY COLLINS

Mrs. Parrish. MINNA GOMBELL

Mr. Parrish. WALTER BALDWIN

Cliff. . . . . . . . STEVE COCHRAN

Mrs. Cameron . . . DOROTHY ADAMS

Mr. Cameron. . . . DON BEDDOE

Luella Parrish. . . MARLENE AAMES

Prew. . . . . . CHARLES HALTON

Mr. Mollett. . . . . . . . . RAY TEAL

Thorpe. . . HOWLAND CHAMBERLIN

Novak. . . . . . . . . . DEAN WHITE

Bullard. . . . ERSKINE SANFORD

Rob Stephenson. . MICHAEL HALL

COPYRIGHT MCMXLVI BY SAMUEL GOLDWYN PRODUCTIONS INC

PASSED BY THE NATIONAL BOARD OF REVIEW

"...pledged their trough, each to the other," continues the minister, "and have declared the same by giving and receiving a ring, and by joining hands, I pronounce that they are man and wife. God bless you both."

"Place it on the fourth finger of Wilma's left hand," says the minister to Homer. "Repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed," says Homer. Several people lean forward anxiously as Homer puts the ring on Wilma's finger with his hook.

On the left side of the screen, Fred has been staring at Peggy from across the room. Peggy notices Fred's gaze and stares back.

"Those whom God hath joined together, let not man put asunder," says the minister. "For as much as Homer and Wilma have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given-"

"Here's comes the bri...," the children start singing.

"That's fine," says Butch.

The doorbell rings. It's the Stephenson family.

"Mrs. Cameron?" says Millie.

"Yes. Mrs. Stephenson?" says Mrs. Cameron.

"Yes," answers Millie.

"Come right in, won't you?" says Mrs. Cameron

"My daughter," says Millie, introducing Peggy.

"How do you do?" says Mrs. Cameron.

"How do you do, Mrs. Cameron?" says Al.

"How do you do?" says Mrs. Cameron. Al hands Mrs. Cameron a large gift-wrapped box.

"There you go," says Al.

"Oh my - you shouldn't have," says Mrs. Cameron.

"My daughter," says Millie to Mr. Cameron.

"Miss Stephenson," says Mr. Cameron.

"Hello," says Peggy.

"Hello, Mr. Cameron," says Al.

"Meet Homer's folks," says Mr. Cameron. "Mr. and Mrs. Stephenson. Miss Stephenson."

"How do you do?" says Al to Mrs. Parrish.

"How do you do?" says Al to Mr. Parrish.

"Hello, Al!" says Butch.

"Hello, Butch!" says Al.

"It's good you're here!" says Butch.

"Mr. Stephenson," says Mr. Cameron, "Could I interest you in a little punch?"

"How do you do, Mrs. Stephenson?" says Butch to Millie.

Peggy glances around the room, not seeing Fred, who is out on the porch.

"Steady, boy!" laughs Fred, as he tries to light Homer's shaky cigarette.

"I heard you were leaving town," says Homer. "I was afraid you wouldn't stand up for me!"

"I'll stand up for you, kid," begins Fred.

"Listen, chum," says Fred."Sometime I'll be glad to hear the story of your "war experiences.' What I asked you for was a job. Have you got one?"

"Do you know anything about building?" asks the man.

"No. But there's one thing I do know: I know how to learn," says Fred. "Same as I learned that job up there."

The junk man looks Fred over, then turns to another man.

"Hey, Gus!" shouts the junk man.

"Yes?" says Gus.

"See if you think this guy can be of any use to us," says the junk man.

"Thanks," says Fred, taking off his flight jacket.

Later, there are many cars parked in front of the Parrish home.

Butch is seated at a piano in the living room, surrounded by children.

"Now, children, let's remember the words," says Butch. "The bride will come down those stairs. When I see her I'll hit the first note, then I'll nod my head, and then we'll sing, huh? All right, let's try it."

Butch looks over his shoulder.

"Here she comes," says Butch. 

"Here..." begins several children.

Butch plays a note on the piano.

"Wait for the note," says Butch.

"Hey, bud, what are you doing up there?" says the man.

"Hey, you! What are you doing in that airplane?" he repeats. Fred snaps out of his reverie and climbs out of the plane.

"I used to work in one of those," says Fred to the man.

"Reviving old memories, huh?" says the man.

"Or maybe getting some of 'em out of my system," replies Fred.

"Well, take your last look," says the man. "We're breaking 'em up."

"Yeah, I know. You're the junkman," says Fred. "You get everything sooner or later."

"This is no junk," says the man. "We're using this material for building prefabricated houses."

Fred thinks for a moment. "You don't need any help, do you?" he asks.

"Out of a job?" asks the man.

"That's it," says Fred.

"I see," says the man.

The camera dollies in for a close-up, as Fred remembers flying a bombing run.

Inside the ship, Fred is lost in thought. Sweat beads on his face.

A bomber labeled "3463" with nose art saying "ROUND ? TRIP" is parked only a few yards away from a wrecking crew. 

Fred reaches up to the forward hatch and pulls himself into the fuselage. He looks around the interior, at his old position as bombardier. The dusty plexiglass dome filters light inside the cabin. 

Fred looks at a navigation chart, and tosses it back on a bench. Moving some dust and cobwebs out of the way, he heads for the bombsight station, first dusting off the seat. 

At the airfield, Fred walks through an aircraft boneyard of propellers, cowlings, and airframes. It's a sea of discarded fighter planes. 

He comes across a line of B-17s, about to be scrapped. 

"Listen to this," says Pat to Hortense. "Sit down." 

Pat reads the citation:"Headquarters, 8th Air Force - Award of the Distinguished Flying Cross"

"Um, here..." continues Pat. 

"Despite intense pain, shock and loss of blood, with complete disregard of his personal safety, Captain Derry crawled back to his bombsight, guided his formation on a perfect run over the objective and released his bombs with great accuracy."

"The heroism, devotion to duty, professional skill and coolness under fire displayed by Captain Derry, under the most difficult conditions, reflect highest credit on himself and the Armed Forces of the United States."

"By command of Lieutenant General Doolittle."

Pat removes his reading glasses. 

At the airfield, a corporal looks at Derry's service card. 

Well, I'll tell you, Captain," says the corporal, "We've got two flights going out of here tonight. One eastbound, one westbound. You'll have to ask the pilot. Which way you going?"

"Which one leaves first?" asks Fred.

"Eastbound. Eight o'clock," says the corporal.

"That'll be fine. I'll just hang around the field until then," says Fred.

"Say," says the corporal, "you don't seem to care where you're going!"

"That's right, chum," says Fred. "I don't."

Back at the railroad flat, Pat Derry reads his son's citations.

"Hortense," says Pat, while reading. "Hortense!"

"How do you know it'll be different anyplace else?" asks Pat. "There's a need here for fellas like yourself that fought and won the war."

Fred laughs, dismissively.

"I know you haven't had the best of breaks since you got back," says Pat. "but -- you ought to stick here and slug it out a while longer on your own home ground."

"You're all right, Pop," says Fred. "But I know when it's time to bail out."

Fred picks up his bag. "I gotta get going," says Fred.

"Here are your clean socks, Fred," says Hortense, holding out laundry.

"Just put 'em in here," says Fred. "Take good care of the old man."

"I'll do my best," says Hortense. "But we'll miss you, Freddy."

"You ought to be used to that by now," says Fred. He turns to his father. "So long, Pop."

Pat says nothing, but holds Fred's hand.

Back at his dad's flat, next to the railroad tracks, Fred continues packing his things.

"Here's an old sweater I found," says Hortense. "Remember you wore it in high school?"

"Sure," says Fred, packing the sweater into his suitcase.

"You might need it sometime," says Hortense.

"Thanks, Hortense," says Fred.

"You forgot these, son," says Pat Derry, holding out a sheaf of papers.

"Oh, I don't want 'em, Pop," says Fred, turning away.

"What are they?" asks Pat.

"Just a lot of fancy words that don't mean anything," says Fred. "You can throw 'em away."

"Say, these are citations for your medals!" says Pat.

"Why, Freddy," says Hortense, "you never showed them to us!"

"Those things came in the packages of K rations," says Fred.

"Well, we'll treasure them, my boy," says Pat.

"I'll get the socks I washed for you," says Hortense.

"Think you're doing the right thing, son?" says Pat.

"You mean, going?" asks Fred.

"I've given you every chance to make something of yourself," says Marie. "I gave up my job, when you asked me. I gave up the best years of my life, and what have you done? You've flopped! Couldn't even hold that job at the drugstore! So I'm going back to work for myself. And that means I'm going to live for myself, too!" She stands up from the vanity.

"And in case you don't understand English, I'm gonna get a divorce!" shouts Marie. "What have you got to say to that?"

Fred pauses, and looks at her. "Don't keep Cliff waiting," says Fred. He grabs his Army suitcase.

"What are you gonna do?" asks Marie.

"I'm going away," says Fred, packing up his things.

"Where?" asks Marie.

"As far away from Boone City as I can get," replies Fred.

"That's a good idea," says Marie, heading out the door. "You'll get a good job someplace else. There are drugstores everywhere!" She leaves.

Fred walks to the closet to retrieve his clothes. He stops and picks up the picture from the nightclub, the photo of Fred, Marie, Woody... and Peggy.

"Why ask her?" says Fred. "Can't you think for yourself?"

"Go on. I can handle this," says Marie to Cliff. "Wait for me downstairs."

"Okay," says Cliff. He puts on his suit jacket, sporting a "Ruptured duck" honorable discharge lapel pin. Fred notices the pin.

"Another ex-serviceman, huh?" says Fred. "Greetings, brother. Have you had any trouble getting readjusted?"

"Not in particular," says Cliff. "It's easy if you just take everything in your stride."

"That's what I've heard," says Fred.

"Be seeing you," says Cliff, walking out the door.

"I doubt it," says Fred, as the door closes. He turns to Marie. "When did you pick him up?"

"He's an old friend," says Marie, primping at her vanity table. "He just dropped in for a friendly drink."

"Did you know him while I was away?" asks Fred.

"I knew lots of people," says Marie. "What do you think I did all those years?"

"I don't know, babe," says Fred. "but I can guess."

"Go ahead, guess," says Marie, angrily. "I could do some guessing myself. What were you up to in London, and Paris and all those places?"

"I'll do that, Homer," says Wilma, without hesitation. She buttons the top, and straightens his collar, smiling. Homer watches her in surprise.

Homer looks down at the bed. "This is when I know I'm helpless," he says. "My hands are down there on the bed. I can't put them on again without calling to somebody for help. I can't smoke a cigarette or read a book. If that door should blow shut, I can't open it and get out of this room."

"All over the Pacific," replies Novak. "One little island after another."

"What did you do, mostly?" asks Al.

"Go in before the landings," says Novak, "and clear the underwater mines and obstructions. Then, when they'd taken enough ground for an airstrip, we'd build it."

"Fairly interesting work, eh?" says Al. 

"No, it got monotonous," says Novak. "Those islands all look alike - - until Iwo Jima. That was different!"

"So I've heard," says Al, looking back at the application. "I see you have quite a family - a wife and four children."

"Yes," nods Novak. "There'd have been more, if I hadn't been away for four years!"

"Well, now you want to buy a farm," says Al. 

"Yes, sir!" says Novak. "Got my eye on a fine piece of property. Forty acres, out near Anton Corners."

"What about collateral?" asks Al. 

 "Collateral?" asks Novak. "What's that?"

"Security for your loan," says Al. "What can you put up in the way of property? Do you have any stocks and bonds? Real estate? Valuables of any kind?"

"No, Mister Stephenson," replies Novak. "You see, the -"

"I'll fix you a nice meal, honey," says Fred. "Just like I used to do behind the fountain, before the war." Marie slumps in her chair. Fred opens the soup can. Marie carefully peels off her false eyelashes, then stare up at the ceiling. 

Later, Fred follows "Sticky" Merkel around Bullard's drug store. Fred's taken a job at the store. 

"The perfume and cosmetics department is now our outstanding feature," says Merkel. "It accounts for thirty-four percent of our gross intake, and an even higher percentage of our profits. As you will readily surmise, our customers in this department are almost entirely women." 

"Yes, I'd surmise that," says Fred. Merkel looks at Fred to see if Fred's being sarcastic. 

"You must familiarize yourself with the correct pronunciation of all our perfumes and toiletries," continues Merkel. "For instance, here's a popular number: Reve Romantique."

 "Yeah, that means 'Romantic Dream,'" explains Fred. 

"Do you speak French?" asks Merkel.

"Well," says Fred, "I'll tell you, Sticky - just enough to make my way around the Paris bars."

"Let's get one thing - " begins Sticky. 

"

"Well, why couldn't you get a good job?" asks Marie. "Have you really been trying?"

"Sure!" says Fred. "I've been all over town. All the employment offices, and the USES - - they all tell me I don't know anything. They say I ought to spend a couple of years as an apprentice, or go to a trade school."

"A couple of years," says Marie, "with you, going to kindergarten. And what would I be doing in the meantime?" 

"You can always help me with my homework," says Fred, smiling weakly. 

Fred puts a coffee pot on the stove. Marie ponders, then asks a question, very seriously.

"Fred..." begins Marie. 

"Yep?" replies Fred. 

"Are you really alright?" asks Marie. 

"Oh, of course! I'm alright, why?" replies Fred. 

"I mean... in your mind," says Marie. "Is there anything..."

"In my mind?" asks Fred. "You mean, you think I've gone goofy?" He pulls out of the leaves of their folding kitchen table. 

"I've been wondering..." says Marie, rubbing her arm. Fred laughs. 

"What was Gadofsky?" asks Marie. 

"Where did you hear about him?" asks Fred. 

"You talk-" begins Marie. 

Mr. Parrish stubs out Homer's cigarette in an ashtray. 

"Goodnight, son," says Mr. Parrish. 

"Goodnight, Pop," replies Homer. "Thanks."

Mr. Parrish closes the door, but leaves it slightly ajar. The scene fades out. 

Time passes. 

Marie Derry is brushing her eyelashes while reclining on a couch in her apartment. 

The door opens. Fred walks in, carrying a box of groceries. "Hello, babe," says Fred. 

"Whatcha got there?" asks Marie. 

"Supper," replies Fred, heading for the kitchen. "Cream of corn soup, potato salad, salami, and liverwurst."

Marie gets off the couch. "We're going to Jackie's Hot Spot - I phoned and made a reservation!"

"We're eating at home," says Fred, taking off his jacket. 

"What's the matter, honey?" asks Marie. "You sick or something?"

"No, dear," replies Fred, "broke."

Marie stares at Fred. "Broke?"

"You got it," says Fred. 

"We spent it, babe," says Fred. "That's what happened. I'm sorry it's so sudden. I didn't tell you the money was almost gone, because every day-" 

As Mr. Parrish buttons Homer's pajamas, Homer motions with the cigarette in his mouth. Mr. Parrish removes the cigarette from Homer's mouth and places it in the bedside ashtray. 

Homer leaves Luella's room, walks down the darkened hallway, and knocks on his parents' bedroom door. 

"Yes?" says Mr. Parrish from inside the bedroom. 

"Okay, Pop," says Homer. "I'm going to bed now."

"Be right with you, Homer, " says Mr. Parrish. Homer walks back to his bedroom. 

Mr. Parrish steps quickly into the hallway, following Homer back to his room. Mr. Parrish takes his pipe out of his mouth and puts the pipe on Homer's dresser. 

Homer is lighting a cigarette next to his bed. 

"I've got to work it out myself," replies Homer. "All I've wanted is for people to treat me like anybody else, instead of pitying me. I guess it's - it's hard for them to do that. I've just got to learn to get used to it and  - - pay no attention."

"Couldn't I-" begins Wilma, touching his arm.

"No!" shouts Homer, pounding his arm on the workbench. "I've gotta do it myself!"

Wilma begins to cry, and runs out of the workshop. 

Homer looks down at the workbench, and then at the workshop door. 

Wilma hurries down the Parrish driveway, then breaks into a run as she nears the front of her house. 

 Later that night, Homer finishes brushing his teeth. He wipes his mouth with a towel. He exits the bathroom and closes the bathroom door. 

In the darkened upstairs hallway, Homer peers into Luella's room. 

"You wanna see how the hooks work?" yells Homer, angrily. "You wanna see the freak?" Homer fumbles with the doorknob, but can't open the door. 

Luella and the other children move away from the window. 

"Alright," says Homer, "I'll - I'll show ya!" He punches his prosthetics through the panes of the workshop window. 

"Take a good look!" he yells at his sister. 

Luella stands in front of her brother, shocked at his angry response. 

"I didn't mean anything, Homer!" she says, sobbing. "I was only..."

Homer realizes what he's done, and looks down at his hooks, and then at his sister. "I - I'm sorry, Luella," says Homer. "It isn't your fault. Go on and play with your friends."

 Luella tearfully backs away from the window, then turn towards her friends who are watching from the driveway.

Homer turns back to Wilma. 

"I know, Wilma," says Homer. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have acted like that. It wasn't her that - - burned my hands off." He picks up his rifle from the floor. Wilma's theme begins to play. 

"I'll be alright," says Homer. "I've just got to work it out myself." 

"I can help you, Homer," says Wilma, walking toward him. 

"Yes, but - - things are different now," says Homer, not looking at Wilma. 

"Have you changed your mind?" asks Wilma. 

"Have I said anything about changing my mind?" says Homer. 

"No," says Wilma. "But that's just it: you haven't said anything about anything."

Homer peers down the barrel of his rifle. 

"That's not loaded, is it?" asks Wilma. 

"Of course it isn't loaded," says Homer. "Don't you think I know how to handle a gun?"

"I don't know what to think, Homer," says Wilma. "All I know is: I was in love with you when you left, and I'm in love with you now. Other things may have changed, but - that hasn't." 

Homer looks at Wilma, and then looks past her, out the garage window. His little sister and her friends are peering in the window. 

Homer puts the rifle down and walks toward the target. He plucks it off a stack of cordwood and examines his aim. 

"How did you do, Homer?" asks Wilma. 

"Only fair," says Homer. Wilma looks at the target. 

"You did fine!" says Wilma. 

Homer smiles at her. "I'll do better," he says. He picks up the rifle and examines the bolt action.

"I've been wanting to have a chance to talk to you," says Wilma. 

"What about?" says Homer. 

"About everything," says Wilma. "About us."

"What about us?" says Homer. "We're alright, aren't we?"

"No," says Wilma. "Listen to me, Homer." 

"I'm listening," says Homer. 

Wilma turns and walks down the driveway to the garage / woodshed.  She opens the gate to the back yard. 

Next to the garage, Luella and her three friends are playing. Luella and another girl are pantomiming Homer's prosthetic hands with their fingers. 

"Hello, Luella," says Wilma. 

"Hello," says Luella. 

"What are you kids doing?" asks Wilma. 

"Oh, nothin'," says Luella, waving her arms. "We're just... playing."

Wilma walks toward the woodshed. Luella whispers to her friends, "That's his girl - - they're engaged!" she says. 

Homer is firing a rifle in the workshop. There's a knock at the workshop door.  Homer steps away from the door, and Wilma steps inside. 

"Oh, Hello Wilma!" says Homer.

"Hello," says Wilma, smiling and closing the door. 

"Looking for something?" asks Homer. 

"No, says Wilma, " Go right ahead."

Homer draws the bolt on his rifle. 

Outside the Parrish home, a small dog crosses the street while Mr. Parrish mows the lawn with a manual lawnmower. 

Wilma walks out the front door of her house and crosses the hedge to the Parrish driveway. 

"Hello, Wilma!" says Mr. Parrish, stopping his lawnmowing. 

"Good afternoon, Mister Parrish," replies Wilma. "Have you seen Homer?"

"He's out in the woodshed," answers Mr. Parrish. There's a gunshot, then another. 

"Says he wants to get in some practice shooting," continues Mr. Parrish. "so he can go hunting. You'd have thought he would have seen enough shooting in the war." Mr. Parrish mops his face with a handkerchief. 

"Well, I guess he just wants to find something to occupy himself," says Wilma. 

"I guess so," says Mr. Parrish. "I wish there was something I knew to do for him. His mother and I have tried to make him feel at home,  but --"

Marie is trying out her new French silk scarf as a veil in the mirror. "I know a place where we can get some snappy suits made to order!" she says, in a sing-song voice. 

"You mean there's a black market?" asks Fred, feigning surprise. 

"Oh, you can get a lot of things if you know the right people," says Marie, now wearing the scarf as a bikini top. "And if you don't care how much you spend."

"Well, we're not worrying about that, baby!" says Fred, now dressed in his army uniform. "I got money - - cash money! Nearly a thousand bucks, right from the good old U.S. Treasury." He dons his service jacket. 

"Oh!" says Marie, "Now, you look wonderful!" Fred smiles.

"You look like yourself! she adds, walking away. Fred loses his smile. 

"You know, honey, it's so wonderful, I can hardly believe it," says Marie. "Now, we can have a real honeymoon, without a care in the world! Just as if nothing had ever happened. Just as if you'd never gone away.  You know, we're right back where we started!"

"Don't say that, Marie," replies Fred. 

"Don't say what?" asks Marie. "What do you-"

"That we're right back where we started," says Fred, growing angry. "We can never be back there again. We never want to be back there!"

"But why not?" asks Marie. "What is it? What's the matter with you, Fred?"

"Oh, never mind, babe, skip it," says Fred, calming down. "I went back to the drug store where I used to work, and I just got reminded..." Fred looks at Marie's feathered hat and laughs. 

"Little black flowers that grow in the sky," says Fred. 

"Huh?" says Marie. Fred flips the stack of photos over. "Hey, that's me!" says Marie. The photo shows Marie in a bathing suit. 

"Yeah, I had this picture pasted on the plexiglas over my bombsight," says Fred. "You took a lot of trips over Germany, baby!" 

"Oh, that's sweet!" says Marie. 

"The guys all used to kid me about it," says Fred. "They'd take a look at the picture and then ask, 'who's the dame?' -- And when I told them it was my wife, they'd say, 'aw, go on - - nobody's got a wife like that! What's her telephone number?' "

Marie laughs. 

"Oh, Freddie!" says Marie, "When we go out tonight, would you wear your uniform?"

"Ohh no!" says Fred. 

"For my sake," says Marie. "Oh, honey you look so handsome in it, and I'd be so proud to be out with you - - won't you please?"

Fred pauses for a moment and thinks. 

 "Well, seeing as it's you, and seeing as I can't find any place to hang it up, alright," says Fred. "But it's the last time! From now, on, if you don't like me in civilian clothes, we'll just have to stay here all the time!"

Marie is trying out her new scarf as a sarong. 

"Would that be so bad?" says Marie, laughing. "Seriously, honey, you've got to get yourself some new clothes. That suit's awful!"

"I know," says Fred.  

Fred enters. Marie's smile drops. 

"Hey, Marie, do you have an extra key?" asks Fred. "I'd like to have it." Fred is puzzled by Marie's expression. "What are you looking at?"

"Holy smoke, honey! That's the first time I've ever seen you in civilian clothes," says Marie.

"Oh, well from now on, honey, you're not going to see me in anything else," says Fred. "I just got it out of the mothballs over at Pop's house." 

"I - - called up the Blue Devil," says Marie. 

"Who?" asks Fred. 

"Oh that's the nightclub where I worked. I told them I'm through!" says Marie. 

"Aw, swell!" says Fred. He unzips his luggage. 

"But let's go there for dinner, Freddy, huh?" asks Marie. "I can introduce you to the gang! They heard me talk so much about you."

"Anything you say, honey!" says Fred, laying out his dress uniform. "Oh, and here's some perfume, and some other junk I bought in Paris." He hands Marie a bunch of things out of his suitcase.

"Oh, Blue Red Number Five!" says Marie, looking at a perfume box. "And a scarf! Cute! Think of having these from Paris! Oh, Freddy, honey, you're just a big hunk of heaven!"

Fred looks at a stack of photos. 

"What's that a picture of?" asks Marie.

"Bomb hits on Dusseldorf," says Fred. He looks at another picture. "Oh, that's my B-17!"

"What are those?" asks Marie, point at the black puffs of smoke in the photo. 

Al takes the briefcase, and notices it has his initials stamped on the front of it. 

"Oh, the briefcase is a slight gift from the bank," says Milton, laughing. 

"Well, thank you!" says Al. "Thank you very much, Mister Milton."

"Glad to have you back with us, Al," says Milton, shaking Al's hand. 

"Thank you, sir," says Al. Al picks up his Havana cigar from the ashtray and leaves. 

Marie Derry is talking on the phone in her apartment. 

"Well of course, sweetheart, I knew you'd be heartbroken!" says Marie. "But listen: you can get another blonde! What about Sylvia Mack?" Marie laughs. "Oh, you're crazy! I think your legs are cute! Well, I'm sorry too, but he doesn't want me to work nights. He says it's inconvenient!"  She laughs again. "Oh, he's wonderful. And how! Snappy uniform, a whole ribbon counter on his chest. Sure, I'll bring him in sometime!"

The door buzzes. 

"Hey, the doorbell's ringing. I guess that's my Freddy!" says Marie. "Yeah, yeah. Bye!" She hangs up the phone. 

"What makes you think I am, Mister Milton?" asks Al. 

"Well, your war experience would prove invaluable to us here," says Milton.  "See, we have many new problems. This GI Bill of Rights, for instance. It involves us in all kinds of loans to ex-servicemen. We need a man who understands a soldier's problems - - and, at the same time, is well-grounded in the fundamental principles of sound banking. In other words: you. Well - - what do you say, Al?"

"Well," says Al, "I'm overwhelmed."

:Of course, of course," says Milton. He presses a button on his intercom. "Will you bring them in now, please, Miss Garan?"

"Yes, sir," says Miss Garan. 

"I'd uh," says Al, "I thought of taking it easy for a while," says Al. 

"Well, naturally, my boy, after what you've been through!" laughs Milton. "You need a vacation!" Milton's secretary hands Milton a briefcase. "Thank you, thank you," says Milton, taking the briefcase. 

"You're entitled to enjoy life for a change, before you go back to work," says Milton, holding onto the briefcase. 

"Very kind of you to say that, Mister Milton," says Al. 

"While you're resting," says Milton, "Just - just when you get a chance..." He hands the briefcase to Al. 

Later, in Milton's office, Al and Milton have a talk. Milton lights Al's cigar. 

"No, conditions are none too good right now, Al," says Milton. "Considerable uncertainty in the business picture: strikes, taxes still ruinous... You like that cigar?"

"Oh, yes, Mister Milton," says Al. "Fine."

"Hard to get those during the war," says Milton. "but they're coming in regularly from Havana now. Oh, things will readjust themselves in time. We want you back here with us here, Al."

"Well, that's very nice of you, Mister Milton," says Al. "but - I noticed Steve sitting at my old desk. I wouldn't want to push him out."

"Steve will stay right there," says Milton. "You're moving up! What would you say to being vice president in charge of small loans, at a salary of twelve thousand dollars a year? What would you say to that, huh?"

"I'd uh -" begins Al, "I'd say it can't be true."

"Thirty-two fifty per week," says Thorpe. 

"Thirty-two fifty," says Fred. "I to make over four hundred dollars a month in the Air Force!"

"The war is over, Derry," says Thorpe. 

"Yeah, well, uh, I think I'll look around, Mister Thorpe, thanks," says Fred, standing up and shaking Thorpe's hand. "Take care of that cold," he says. Thorpe uses his sinus spray again. 

Downstairs, Fred says goodbye to Mister Bullard. 

"I gotta run," says Fred. "I'll drop back and see you later."

"Alright," says Bullard. "Bye-bye."

"Goodbye," says Fred. 

Derry walks past shoppers, and glances at the lunch counter. Two high school girls stare at him, and he looks back at them. They giggle to each other. Fred smiles and leaves. 

At the Cornbelt Trust Company, Al enters through the large lobby doors. 

"I'm looking for a better one," says Fred. 

"What are your qualifications? Your experience?" asks Thorpe. 

"Two years behind a soda fountain, and three years behind a Norden bombsight," replies Fred. 

"Yes," says Thorp."While in the army, did you have any experience in procurement?"

"No," says Fred. 

"Purchasing of supplies, materials?" asks Thorpe.

"No, I didn't do any of that," says Fred. "I just dropped bombs."

"Did you do any personnel work?" asks Thorpe. 

"No," says Fred. 

"But as an officer, you surely had to act in an executive capacity? You had to command men, be responsible for their morale?" says Thorpe. 

"No," replies Fred, "I was only responsible for getting the bombs on the target. I didn't command anybody."

"I see," says Mr. Thorp. "I'm sure that kind of work required great skill. But unfortunately, we've no opportunities for that with Midway Drugs." 

"Yeah," says Fred, picking up his hat. 

"However," says Thorpe, "we might have an opening as an assistant to Mister Merkle, our floor manager."

"Sticky Merkle?" asks Fred. 

"Clarence Merkle," corrects Thorpe. 

"Yeah, that's the fellow who used to be my assistant at the soda fountain," says Fred. 

"He's a very good man," says Thorpe. "Incidentally, your work would require part-time duties at the soda fountain." 

Fred pauses in his chair. 

Fred walks to a counter and asks the clerk, "Didn't this used to be Bullard's Drug Store?"

"Yes," says the clerk, "but it was taken over last year by the Midway chain."

"Oh," says Fred. 

"But old Mister Bullard's still here, in charge of prescriptions," says the clerk. "It's right over there, by the phones."

"Thanks," says Fred, heading back to the Prescription desk. He passes by throngs of customers in the busy store. 

At the Prescription counter, Mister Bullard approaches him. 

"Yes sir?" says Mister Bullard.  He suddenly recognizes Fred. "Oh!" says Bullard. 

"He wants me to drop in and talk about it," says Al. 

"You're not going to work right away?" says Millie. "You ought to rest awhile, take a vacation."

"I got to make money," says Al. "Last year, it was 'kill Japs' and this year it's 'make money.'"

"We're all right for the time being," says Millie. 

"Why do they have to bother me with problems like that the first day I get home? Why can't they give a fellow time to get used to his own family?" Al turns around and looks at Millie. "Why don't you come over here and sit down?"

"Chair's liable to break," says Millie, sitting on his lap.

"We can't be worrying about chairs," says Al. "Not when they want me back at a Nice Fat Job, at a Nice Fat Bank!"

"You don't seem very happy about it," says Millie. 

"I'm not," says Al. 

"Why not, darling?" asks Millie.

"I can't help thinking about the other guys," says Al, grimly. "All the ones who haven't got you." he smiles at her. She pinches his cheek. 

"You're crazy," says Millie, smiling. 

"No," says Al. "Too sane for my own good." Millie puts her hand on his chin, turns his head, and kisses him.

"Sounds good to hear yours," says Al. "Yes." Al motions for Millie to get a cigarette. 

"Yes, indeed, Mister Milton," says Al. "Yes. Well, not too bad. Yes. Why, of course! Very kind of you to say that." Millie lights his cigarette. 

"Mm-hm," says Al. "Mm-hm. Yes. Well, I'll certainly drop in. Oh, she's fine. Thank you. Ye-e-e-s. They're fine, too." Millie mouths the last three words of the predictable conversation. 

"Well - - I - -" says Al, trying to get a word in the conversation. "That's - - Thank you, Mister Milton.  Good - Good- G-- Good - - Goodbye!" Al hangs up the phone. 

"Mister Milton," says Al, to Millie. 

"Is this all the cream there is in the house?" asks Al. 

"That's all," says Millie.

"It's a fine situation when a man can't get enough to eat in his own home," says Al. He pulls on his waistband. "Look at my pants!"

"What about them?" asks Millie. 

"Too big!" says Al. "Gives you an idea of what the war did to my waistline." 

"Holding your stomach in?" asks Millie. 

"No," says Al. "It's disappeared. I'm going to have to take all my old clothes down to Wyndham and Briggs and get 'em altered." 

"I wouldn't be in too much of a hurry about that," says Millie. "A couple of weeks of heavy eating and those pants will fit perfectly." 

The phone rings. 

"Don't answer it," says Al. Millie gets up from the table, anyway, and answers the phone. 

"Hello?" says Millie. "Oh, yes, he's here!"

"Me?" says Al. "If it's the War Department, I'm out!" 

"It's Mister Milton," says Millie. 

"Who?" asks Al. 

"Mister Milton! At the bank!" says Millie.

"Oh," says Al, getting up from the table. 

 "He'll be right on," says Millie.  She hands Al the phone. 

"Hello?" says Al. "Ah, yes, Mister Milton." 

"Well, when I got in yesterday, I went over to Pop's house - " says Fred.

"Yesterday?" asks Marie. "Well, why didn't you-"

"Well, I came here, " says Fred, "Too late! You had already gone to work. I went from one nightclub to another."

"You were looking for me, honey?" says Fred.

"I was looking for my wife!" says Fred, smiling.

"Well, you've found her now!" says Marie.

Back at the Stephenson home, Al is apparently having a second breakfast on their veranda. Millie arrives with a fresh pot of coffee, to which Al holds out his coffee cup.

"Wonder how Fred's getting along?" asks Al.

"Fred looks to me as if he's able to take care of himself alright," replies Millie.

"I'm not so sure about that," says Al. "It's not so easy for those Air Force glamor boys when they get grounded. Now, when you've been in the infantry, any change is bound to be an improvement."

Millie continues to clear the breakfast dishes.

"Will you please stop fussing, sit down, and talk to me?" asks Al.

"Alright, Sergeant," says Millie.

Again, Fred stands next to the door to wait for the unlock signal, but there's no answer. Fred looks dejected. He removes his hand from the doorknob and starts to walk back to the car. 

Just then, someone runs up to the apartment door and simply walk in. The door has been unlocked all the time. Fred laughs. Peggy smiles, again weakly.  He waves to Peggy and goes into the apartment house. 

"Bye!" says Peggy, smiling. Her smile fades, and she turns away to start her car. 

"You and your wife must come up to dinner," says Peggy. 

"That'll be fine," says Fred. He pauses. "Oh, there's one thing more - - about that - that dream I had last night. I've had it before. I'm sorry I had to bother you about it."

"Oh-," begins Peggy. 

"But you were very kind," says Fred. "You didn't even mention it this morning. As a matter of fact, you've been swell about everything. I think they oughta put you in mass production!" He smiles at Peggy. 

"Goodbye, Fred, " says Peggy. 

"Goodbye," says Fred. He steps out of the Plymouth. 

"Maybe I'd better wait and see if you get in!" says Peggy. 

"Maybe that's a good idea!" agrees Fred. He walks toward the apartment door.  Fred presses the call button, then waits by the door. There is no response. Fred looks back at Peggy and shrugs. 

"That's right," says Millie.

"Whatever became of them?" asks Al. 

"Rob's gone to school, and Peggy's driving downtown with Fred," replies Millie. 

"Fred?" says Al. Millie steps around him. "Oh," says Al, getting out of the way. "Oh, yeah, Fred! He's a good guy." Al steps out of the way, as Millie negotiates around him with the breakfast tray. 

"All right?" says Millie, holding out the tray and motioning Fred to get back in bed. Al doesn't move. Millie, not sure what to do, sets the tray on the bed. "Here's your breakfast. I have work to do!" she says, with a nervous lightness. 

Al puts his hand on Millie's wrist, and draws her close. They embrace, and kiss. 

Peggy and Fred arrive at the Grandview Arms Apartments, in Peggy's 1941 Plymouth. 

"Well," says Fred, "it was nice knowing you, Peggy."

 "That sounds like a permanent goodbye," says Peggy.

Fred shrugs. 

Back at the Stephenson house, Millie is stacking a breakfast on a tray. She puts a vase of daisies on the tray, but changes her mind and puts the daisies on the kitchen stove, instead. 

Al, now showered and wearing a bathrobe, looks at the civilian clothes hanging in his closet. There's a knock at the bedroom door. 

"Who's that?" says Al. 

"It's me, Millie!" says Millie.  She opens the door. "I brought you breakfast!"

"Oho!" says Al, smiling. "Thanks!"

"Didn't think you'd be up for hours," says Millie, putting the tray on a chair. 

"Yeah, well, I had a dream," says Al. "I dreamt I was home. I've had that same dream hundreds of times before, and this time, I wanted to find out if it's really true. Am I really home?"

Millie straightens the bed pillows. "Looks like it," says Millie. "And you're going to be royally treated. You're having breakfast in bed."

"I was a fountain attendant," replies Fred. 

"A what?" asks Peggy. 

"Soda jerk," says Fred. 

"Oh," says Peggy.

"Surprised?" asks Fred. 

"Yes, a little," says Peggy. "I bet you mixed up a fine ice cream soda!"

"You're darn right!" laughs Fred. "I was an expert behind that fountain. I used to toss a scoop of ice cream in the air, adjust for wind drift, velocity, and altitude, and wham! In the corner every time!" 

Peggy laughs. 

"I figure that's where I really learned to drop bombs," says Fred. 

"Hm - what do you think you'll do now?" asks Peggy. 

"I'm not going back to that drug store," says Fred. "Somehow, I can't figure myself getting excited over a root beer float.  I don't know just what I will do - - I'm going to take plenty of time looking around."

"I guess after all the places you've been, Boone City looks pretty dreary to you," says Peggy. Fred looks at her. 

"Not from where I'm sitting right now," says Fred. 

Walking toward the bathroom, he opens the bathroom door. Millie peeks in on his to see how he's doing. 

Climbing into the shower, Al starts singing "Among My Souvenirs," only to suddenly realize he's taking a shower with his pajamas on. He leaps out of the shower and starts disrobing. 

Meanwhile, Peggy is driving Fred back to Grandview Arms Apartments. 

He gets out of bed, and looks down at his Army boots, parked next to a chair.  Al opens the window blinds and squints at the sunshine. He picks up the Army boots, and tosses them out the window, listening to them hit the pavement four floors below. 

That task completed, Al looks at himself in the bedroom mirror, then looks at a prewar portrait sitting in a picture frame next to the mirror. 

"Could have happened to anyone," says Millie. "If Al had come home a little later last night we wouldn't have been in, and he wouldn't have known where to look for us!"

"How is Al?" asks Fred. 

"We don't know yet!" laughs Millie. Peggy returns, wearing a hat and coat. 

"Ready, Fred," says Peggy, putting on gloves. 

"Well, when he wakes up, tell him from me, I think he's a pretty lucky guy," says Fred. 

"Thank you, Fred," says Millie. Fred shakes her hand. 

"Goodbye, Millie, and thanks a lot for everything," says Fred. 

"Goodbye," says Millie. 

"Bye, Mom!" says Peggy, as she and Fred head out of the apartment. 

"Bye, dear," replies Millie. 

Meanwhile, Al is waking up in his bedroom. He squints, and looks at his reflection in two mirrors at the opposite end of his bedroom.  Al rubs his face, looks around the room, and notices the space in their bed where Millie slept. 

"Well, I guess you've hardly had time," says Fred. "You must have been engaged, though."

"No," says Peggy. 

"Why not?" asks Fred. "What's the matter with the guys around here?"

"I guess the best of them are already married," says Peggy, pointedly. 

Millie walks into the kitchen. 

"Good morning, Fred!" says Millie. 

"Good morning, Mrs..." begins Fred. 

"Millie's the name," says Millie. Fred laughs.

"Thanks, Millie," says Fred. "When Al wakes up, tell him how much I appreciate the -- "

"You're not going?" says Millie, "you haven't even finished your breakfast."

"I'm afraid I haven't got much of an appetite this morning," says Fred. "Besides, I've got to get downtown. Maybe now I can get into that apartment house where my wife lives." 

"I'll drive you, Fred," says Peggy. "I've got to get to work at the hospital. I'll just be a minute." Peggy leaves the kitchen. 

Millie opens the refrigerator door. 

"I must have acted pretty disgracefully last night," says Fred. 

"No," says Millie. "You just fell in with bad company at Butch's and got stinking."

"You see, the whole trouble was, I couldn't find Marie - that's my wife, " says Fred. "I didn't know she had a job."

"Did I - - get out of line with you?" asks Fred. 

"No, not really," says Peggy. 

"That's good, because - - you see, I'm married," says Fred. 

"Yes, I know," says Peggy. 

"I must have gotten pretty plastered last night," says Fred. 

"You had nothing on my dad!" says Peggy. 

"Your dad?" asks Fred. "Who's he?"

"Don't you remember Al?" asks Peggy. 

"Oh, Al!" laughs Fred. "Yeah - good old Al! Where is he?"

"Still asleep, I guess," says Peggy. 

"So, you're Al's daughter!" says Fred. 

"You've got it all straight now!" laughs Peggy. 

"I feel a lot better," says Fred. 

"That's good," says Peggy. 

"You married, Peggy?" asks Fred. 

"For the last time, yes," laughs Peggy. "Want some eggs?"

"Hmm," says Fred, pondering the state of his stomach. "Do you think I could take 'em?"

"Sure," says Peggy. "They'll be good for you. Like 'em scrambled?"

"Any way you cook 'em," says Fred. 

"Good," says Peggy. While stirring the eggs with a fork, she asks Fred, "Sleep alright?"

Fred pauses drinking his orange juice. "Wonderful," says Fred, carefully. 

"That's good," says Peggy, lighting the oven. 

"Can I help you with any of that business?" asks Fred. 

"You can pour the coffee, if you want some," replies Peggy. Fred snags the coffee pot. 

"Do you mind if I ask a someone personal questions?" says Fred, pouring the coffee. 

"No," says Peggy. 

"Where did you sleep last night?" says Fred. 

"On the couch," says Peggy, adjusting the oven temperature. 

"That's terrible," says Fred, shaking his head. 

"What's terrible?" asks Peggy, stirring the eggs again. 

"I should have had enough sense to go to a hotel, not come around here, bothering you," says Fred. 

"You didn't bother anybody, Fred," says Peggy. 

"Rob, you better hurry up," says Peggy. "You'll be late for school."

Rob looks at his watch. "Holy Moses!" says Rob. "I'll see you later - bye! Bye!" Rob runs into the hallway with a piece of toast in his mouth. 

Fred sees Rob as he passes. Fred is now fully dressed, and extremely puzzled. 

Rob runs past Fred. "Oh, excuse me, Captain," says Rob. "I'm Rob Stephenson, Peggy's brother. She's in there, in the kitchen. She's fixing you breakfast. I gotta run. Bye!" Rob runs out the front door. 

Fred wanders into the kitchen. 

"Hello!" says Peggy, cheerfully. She is scrambling eggs. 

"Hello," says Fred, carefully. 

"Sit down," says Peggy. 

Fred rubs his head. Peggy hands him a glass of orange juice. "Here - this may help."

"Thanks," says Fred. 

"Sit down," says Peggy.  Fred sits down at the kitchen table. 

You're --- Peggy," says Fred. 

He gets out of bed and walks into Peggy's closet. Next, he opens the bathroom door and smiles.  Fred grabs his shaving kit and walks into the bathroom. 

In the kitchen, Rob is eating breakfast while Peggy is making orange juice.

"Did he fly seventeens or twenty-fours?" asks Rob. 

"I don't know," replies Peggy. 

"What group was he with?" asks Rob. 

"He didn't say," says Peggy. 

Fred wakes up, and groggily watches her cross the room. Peggy notices he's awake. 

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I woke you up!" says Peggy. 

"Oh, that's alright, but - " begins Fred.

"I know, you're about to say, 'where am I?' I'll tell you later, Fred. You can sleep as long as you want!" replies Peggy. She leaves, closing the bedroom door behind her. 

Fred is completely baffled at his surroundings. He looks at the frilly canopy above the poster bed, and blows on the ruffles. 

She takes a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipes the sweat off Fred's face, looks at him for a moment, and then leaves the bedroom. 

The next morning, Peggy quietly walks back into the bedroom. 

"Fred," says Peggy, leaning over him. 

"Get out!" yells Fred. 

"Fred, wake up!" says Peggy. 

"Gadorsky! Gadorsky!" yells Fred.

"Wake up!"  says Peggy

:She's burning up! Get out! Get out!" yells Fred. 

"Fred! Fred, wake up!" says Peggy

"She's burning up!" yells Fred. She's gonna hit! Look out!"

Peggy puts her hand over Fred's eyes. 

"It's all right, Fred," says Peggy. "Go back to sleep." Peggy pushes down on Fred's shoulders. "Go back to sleep," she repeats. "Go back to sleep, Fred."

Fred is crying in his sleep. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of," says Peggy.  "All you have to do is - -  go to sleep and rest."

Peggy  rubs Fred's forehead. "Go to sleep," says Peggy. "Go to sleep, Fred. Go to sleep and rest. Go to sleep, Fred."

Homer can't sleep. He turns his head in bed. 

Peggy is fast asleep on the couch. 

Fred is tossing and turning in Peggy's bed. He's mumbling to himself. 

Peggy is making up the sofa to sleep on for the night. 

"Fred alright?" asks Millie. 

"Yes," says Peggy. "He's alright."

Millie looks at the couch. "You'll be comfortable here," says Millie. 

"Sure, Mom," says Peggy, patting her mother on the arm. "Goodnight," says Peggy, kissing Millie. 

"Goodnight, Dear," says Millie. They look at each other, and laugh. 

"Night," says Millie, walking back to her bedroom. 

"Night," replies Peggy, taking off her shoes. 

Millie quietly steps into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her while Al sleeps. Millie looks at Al, then leans over to kiss him goodnight. Al mumbles angrily, "Get outta here!" in his sleep. 

Millie hoists Al's legs onto the bed, having a slight problem pushing his knees down flat. 

"As I remember," says Millie, "when you lie flat on your back, you snore."

Millie reaches underneath Al and tries to reach his arm. "Where's your hand?" asks Millie. "Give me your hand." She locates Al's left hand and pulls, flipping him face-down on the bed.  Al continues to mumble snippets of "Among My Souvenirs."

She undoes his belt, then loosens his tie. 

"Who are you?" asks Fred, groggily. 

 "Don't you remember?" asks Peggy. "I'm Peggy!"

"Oh yeah," says Fred, "Peggy!" Fred pulls Peggy down on top of him in a drunken embrace. 

"I'm not that Peggy!" says Peggy, climbing off Fred. 

"Aw, that's too bad," says Fred, falling asleep again. Peggy puts a blanket over Fred and turns out the bedroom light. 

Meanwhile, Millie is trying to get Al ready for bed. He's in pajama bottoms, and his humming "Among My Souvenirs." Millie removes Al's dog tags, then puts Al's pajama top on him. 

As they descend the front steps of the apartment house, Fred asks Millie, "Where are we all going now?"

"Don't ask," says Millie. "We want it to be a surprise!" They head for the car.

Fred rolls into the back seat and falls asleep against the groggy Al. Fred throws an arm around Al's shoulder and Al holds Fred's hand in his sleep.

Millie turns and looks at the two sleeping soldiers in the back seat. "They make a lovely couple, don't they?" laughs Millie.

"Yeah," agrees Peggy. "I think they'll be very happy together." She starts the car.

Al pats the hand around his shoulder and notices it's wearing a large watch. He's very confused.

The scene shifts to Peggy's bedroom. Fred is laying flat on Peggy's four-poster bed. Peggy is struggling to remove Fred's shoes. She puts a quilt over Fred's feet.

"Yes, Fred," laughs Peggy. "See you soon!"

"By all means," says Fred, suddenly banging his head on the roof of the car. Millie winces.  "Beg your pardon," says Fred, rubbing his head. "Good night."

Fred puts on his cap and heads for the Grandview Arms apartments. "We'd better wait until he gets in," says Millie to Peggy. They watch from the car. 

Fred tries the front door of the apartment house, but it's locked. He walks over to the apartment door buzzers to find Marie's apartment. 

"I don't even think he knows if this is the right place!" says Peggy. 

Fred looks at the row of buzzers and presses one, then leans against the wall. He slumps, and slides to the sidewalk, asleep. With his eyes closed, he keeps pressing on the wall, imagining he's still pressing the buzzer. 

Peggy and Millie get out of the car and help Fred back to his feet. 

Angus makes a circling motion with his hand, indicating another round of drinks. 

Al stands up and says, "I'd love to!" and begins dancing with Angus. 

The others in the booth laugh. 

Later, Butch is closing up the bar.  "Lights out, Steve!" says Butch, helping Al to the door. 

Al sees Fred and cheers. "Where do we go next, old pal, old pal?" says Al. 

"Just follow me, old pal," says Millie.  Millie throws Al's arm over her shoulder. Butch holds the front door of the bar open. 

"Step," warns Millie, as Al approaches the front door. 

"Goodnight, Al," says Butch. 

"Goodnight, Butch!" replies Al. "We had a nice party!"

Later, at the Grandview Arms, Peggy pulls up to the entrance. 

"Is this it, Fred?" asks Peggy.

"It looks like it!" smiles a very drunk Fred.  He climbs out of the car, bumping his head on the door frame. He takes Millie's hand. "Goodnight, Millie," says Fred, very formally. "Many thanks for a most enjoyable evening." 

"Goodnight, Fred, " says Millie. 

"Goodnight, Al! Best of luck to you," says Fred. Al is passed out, leaning up against Millie. 

"I'll give him your message," says Millie.

Back in the booth, Fred is chatting up Peggy. "That's the type of thing people oughta be thinking about these days!" says Fred, tapping the table. 

"Alright," says Peggy, with feigned seriousness, "I promise I'll get right to work on it. And there's one thing I've been wanting to ask you - - "

Fred snuggles his head up against Peggy's shoulder. "Well, you ask it, Peggy," says Fred. "You mustn't feel shy with me."

"-- why don't you call your wife?" she says in Fred's ear.  Fred looks at her. 

"I don't know her number," he replies. "I couldn't find it in the phone book."

"PHONE BOOK?" shouts Al, ushering Millie back into the booth. "We don't need to do any telephoning! We're all set!" Al points at Fred, "What you need is a drink!" Al whistles for the waiter.

Homer returns to the booth, but doesn't sit down. 

"Well, goodnight everybody. I'm going home," says Homer. 

"Why?" asks Al. 

"Well, I've gotta - Butch says I've gotta," replies Homer. "He's gonna drive me."

"Aw, now," says Al, "No, no --"

Butch turns up at the table. "It's quite alright," says Butch. "And don't any of you leave - - I'll be right back."

"Goodnight everybody," says Homer. They all return the "Goodnight." 

Butch ushers Homer away from the table. 

"Poor kid," says Al. "Imagine: he's gotta go home."

"Doesn't that put any ideas in your head?" asks Millie. 

Butch switches to a stride piano style for the song, and Al and Millie pick up the pace of their dancing. 

Peggy smiles, watching her parents dance. 

Fred polishes off a drink. He's getting more intoxicated as the evening wears on.

"Nice to see the young people enjoying themselves," says Peggy. Her phrase barely registers with Fred. Fred looks at Peggy.

"So, you're Al's daughter!" he says.  Peggy laughs. 

"Yes, I've been that as long as I can remember," she says, smiling. 

Fred leans in. "You don't seem like Al's daughter," says Fred. 

"Actually, I'm not," deadpans Peggy. "He's my son, by a previous marriage."

Fred takes a moment to process this, then chuckles. "What did you say your name was?" asks Fred. 

"Peggy," she replies. 

"Peggy?" says Fred, "My name's - -"

Butch plays a few notes, but Al shushes him, then pats him on the shoulder. 

Al walks to the middle of the dance floor and dramatically taps his foot three times to set the tempo. Butch follows his lead and starts playing the song. 

Millie has been sitting quietly, but then realizes what song Butch is playing. She smiles and looks at Al. 

Al walks back to the booth and looks at Millie. 

"Shall we dance?" he asks.

"Well, that's a charming idea!" agrees Millie. She stands, and they embrace. 

"Do you remember this tune?" asks Al. Millie presses her cheek against Al's and they begin to dance. Millie holds onto Al's shoulders and closes her eyes as she smiles. 

They turn on the dance floor. Al has his eyes closed, as well. 

"... whatever they do is wrong," says Butch. 

"Why don't they understand that all I want is to be treated like everybody else?" asks Homer. "Take Pop, for instance: he was cleaning his pipe, like I've seen him do a million times. And all of a sudden, he got conscious that he had hands, and- and I didn't, and he - - he stopped cleaning his pipe and he tried to hide his hands like he was guilty or something."

"Give 'em time, kid, they'll catch on" says Butch. "You know, your folks will get used to you, and you'll get used to them."

Butch plays a chord. 

"Then everything'll settle down nicely," continues Butch. "Unless we have another war. Then, none of us have to worry, because we'll all be blown to bits the first day."

Butch plays a glisscando on the piano. 

"So, cheer up, huh?" says Butch. Homer smiles. 

Al stops by the piano. "Hey, Butch..." whispers Al. 

Butch moves a chair next to Homer. "Sit down, Homer," says Butch.

Butch starts playing "Up a Lazy River."

"Wilma phoned," says Butch.

"Wilma?" says Butch. "What did she want?"

"You," says Butch. 

"Aw, why can't they leave a guy alone?" asks Homer. 

"Because they're fond of you, that's why," says Butch. "What made you leave the house, and get them all worried?"

"Oh, ah, they - they got me nervous," says Homer. 

"How?' asks Butch. 

"Butch, it's nothing. I don't want to talk about it," says Homer.

"How'd they get you nervous?" repeats Butch. 

"Well, they - how keep staring at these hooks," says Homer, "or else they - they keep staring away from them." 

"You mean -" begins Butch.

"Here's a good booth," says Butch, motioning the others to sit down. 

"Fred! Hey, Fred!" says Al. "Where's your wife, huh? I wanna meet her."

"I haven't been able to find her!" says Fred. "She works in some nightclub here. I've been around four or five places looking for her. "

"Well, we'll find her, Fred, before this night is out," says Al. "We'll deploy our forces and comb the town - - won't we, Millie?"

"Oh, by all means," says Millie, with little enthusiasm. 

"Well, we got the Navy to convoy us! Huh?" says Al, pointing at Homer. Al turns to his wife and daughter. "First, we gotta get one thing straight: Homer lost his hands, he's got those hooks instead. They don't worry him, so they shouldn't worry anybody else. Right, Homer?"

"Right!" says Homer. 

"Right, now let's get seriously to work," says Al. Angus, the waiter, shows up at the table. 

"Telephone, Butch," says Angus. 

"Thank you," replies Butch. He turns back to the table. "Give them anything they want," says Butch to Angus. Then, Butch points at Homer. "Any kind of beer."

"What'll it be, folks?" asks Angus, pulling out a pencil and notepad. 

"Hi, Angus!" says Al, shaking Angus's hand. 

"Hiya, Sergeant!" replies Angus. 

"Nice to see you," says Al. "Looking well."

"Hello, Captain," says Angus to Fred. 

"Hi Angus," says Fred. 

"A little gray in the temples," says Al.

"Yeah, yeah," laughs Angus. 

The night passes with many drinks by Al and Fred. 

"Well," says Fred, lifting a glass, "Cheahs, Cheahs," says Fred in a heavy posh accent. 

"Cheas," repeats Al. 

Butch returns to the table and looks at Homer. "Homer, Homer," says Butch, cocking his head toward the piano. 

"Okay, Butch, " says Homer, finishing his beer. 

Al swaps glasses with Millie, who's barely touched her drink. He leaves Millie with a nearly-empty glass. 

"Aren't you drinking?" asks Al. Millie looks at the nearly-empty glass she's been given. 

"Excuse me, folks," says Homer, standing up.

"Sure, Homer," says Fred. 

Butch is at the piano, playing chords. Homer walks up next to the piano.

Homer picks up his Pilsner. "Welp," says Homer, "Here's to you, Butch!" He takes a quick sip and sets the glass on the counter. "How am I doin'?" asks Homer. 

"Kid, you're doing great," says Butch, patting Homer on the back. 

"Thanks," says Homer. He turns to Fred. "Say, Fred - where did you leave Al?"

"Oh, Al?" replies Fred. "He's home - - in the swankiest apartment house in town! We'll never see him again!"

As Fred speaks, Al, Millie, and Peggy enter Butch's Place. 

"Say!" says Al, "This is the best place we've been yet!" 

"Hey, that's Al!" says Homer. 

"Oh ho!" says Al, clapping his hands together. 

"We were just talking about you!" says Fred. Al gives Captain Derry a smiling salute. Al claps both his friends on the shoulders. 

"Oh, my aching back!" laughs Al. 

Millie and Peggy make silent eye-rolls, realizing this won't be an early night. 

"Hey, Millie! Peggy! Step up and meet the gang!" says Al. "This is Homer, this is Fred," he explains, pointing at the men in the wrong order. "This is my wife and daughter."

"How do you do?" says Homer. 

"How do you do? repeats Fred to the ladies. 

"Homer and I were together in the Battle of Lingayen Gulf, only we didn't know it at the time!" says Al. He turns to Butch. "How are you, bub?"

"How do you do?" says Butch. 

"Al, this is my Uncle Butch!" says Homer. 

"Butch?" says Al. "Oh, I hear you got a new neon sign, huh? Good for you! Now the party can really get started, eh?" 

Butch leads the party over to a booth. 

"Wilma tells us you were in the Philippines, Homer!" says Mrs. Cameron. 

"Well, I was around there, Mrs. Cameron, but I never saw anything," says Homer. 

"Did you meet General MacArthur?" asks Mrs. Cameron.

Homer laughs. "No, I didn't get to meet him." Homer notices Mr. Cameron's cigarette is unlit. "I've got a light, Mr. Cameron!" Homer reaches for his matches. 

Mister Cameron hurriedly lights a match. "No, I've got it, thanks," and lights his own cigarette. Homer sits back down. Luella stands up and watches closely as Homer puts the matches back in his pocket. Homer smiles at her, and she smiles back. 

"Luella!" says Mr. Parrish. 

"Yes, Dad?" replies Luella. Mr. Parrish glares at her, and Luella sits down. 

"You know," says Mrs. Cameron, "I've always thought he's such a handsome man!" 

"Who?" asks Luella, jumping up again.

"General MacArthur," replies Mrs. Cameron.

Homer's mom walks into the living room with a tray of lemonade. 

"May I help you with that, Mrs. Parrish?" asks Wilma. 

"No, Wilma - you sit right down," says Mrs. Parrish. "Lemonade, Mrs. Cameron?"

"Thank you very much," says Mrs. Cameron.

"Have you thought anything about getting a job, Homer?" asks Mr. Cameron. 

"Well, I-" begins Homer.

"Oh, Father - it's much too soon for Homer to be thinking about a job," says Wilma. "He's just out of the hospital."

"Over on West Seventeenth Street," says Homer, as they head to the airfield. "You know where Jackson High is?"

"Sure," says Fred.

"Well, it's just a couple of blocks past it," says Homer.

Fred and Homer arrive at the starboard hatch of the B-17. Fred tosses his luggage into the cabin, waking up a sleeping sergeant.

"Hi, Sarge," says Fred, lifting Homer's sea bag into the cabin.

"Hiya," replies the sergeant. 

"My name's Fred Derry," says Fred, sitting down across from the sergeant. Homer climbs aboard. 

"Al Stephenson," replies the sergeant. 

"And this is Homer - - what is it, Homer?" asks Fred. 

"Parrish," says Homer, offering Al his hook hand. Al grabs Homer's arm and shakes it. 

"Glad to know ya," says Al. 

"Glad to know you, Sarge," says Homer. "You from Boone, too?"

"Yeah," smiles Al. "I sure am!"

"How long since you been home?" asks Fred. 

"Oh, a couple of centuries..." says Al. The three men laugh. 

"Come on, let's sit up in the radio compartment until after the takeoff, and then we'll get in the nose and get a nice view of the good ol' USA," says Fred. 

"Okay," says Al, getting up off his seat. 

Soon, the B-17 takes off, and the men are in the bombardier's nose of the aircraft. Homer sits forward, where the Norden bombsight used to be. 

"Boy oh boy - look at that!" says Homer. "Look at those automobiles!"

DIRECTED BY WILLIAM WYLER

SAMUEL GOLDWYN PRESENTS

THE BEST YEARS OF OUR LIVES

TITLE:

STARRING MYRNA LOY FREDRIC MARCH DANA ANDREWS TERESA WRIGHT VIRGINIA MAYO AND INTRODUCING CATHY O'DONNELL

WITH HOAGY CARMICHAEL GLADYS GEORGE HAROLD RUSSELL STEVE COCHRAN ROMAN BOHNEN RAY COLLINS VICTOR CUTLER

SCREENPLAY BY ROBERT E. SHERWOOD

FROM A NOVEL BY MACKINLAY KANTOR

Art Direction - - - - - - - - - PERRY FERGUSON, GEORGE JENKINS Film Editor - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DANIEL MANDELL Costume Designer - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - SHARAFF Set Decorations - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - JULIA HERON Makeup - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ROBERT STEPHANOFF Hair Stylist - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MARIE CLARK Sound Recorder - -  - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - RICHARD DeWEESE Music - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - HUGO FRIEDHOFER Musical Direction - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - EMIL NEWMAN WESTERN ELECTRIC RECORDING (MPAA BUG) (IATSE BUG) MPAA CERTIFICATE NO 11972 "ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS DEPICTED IN THIS PHOTOPLAY ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ANY SIMILARITY TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, OR TO ACTUAL EVENTS IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL."

DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY GREGG TOLAND

PRODUCED BY SAMUEL GOLDWYN