“Foggia, Air Base.”
“Foggia?” asked Hooker and Pines at the same time.
Rocko looked puzzled, “Yes, Foggia. Why, do you know anyone there?”
Captain Hooker sat back and with a grin answered, “Captain, if you want to know the morale of the men of Foggia Air Base just ask us. We had one of our men transfer to that group and when they all went to Italy their commander paid for all of them to be in first-class cabins! Believe me, their morale is better than anyone’s.”
“Did you know,” added Schaeffer, “that their commander orders food from some of the top restaurants in the area to be brought in for his men?”
“And,” asked Rocko, “he gets away with it?”
“So far. He’s always one step ahead of the top brass. By the time they call him down for the first-class cabins, he already has the food ordered or gets them new uniforms for the hot weather.”
“Looks like you have an easy job with that base,” offered Captain Hooker.”
Breakfast was a quiet one as Rocko tried to figure out how to approach this commander. This, he thought, was not in the briefing hologram.
The rest of the trip was a repeat of the first day as the U.S. Army rented the ship and everyone had to follow army regulations: thus no deviations. Each evening the curtain’s of Rocko’s cabin windows were pulled closed after lights out as the four men enjoyed wine and cigars. When he was alone, Rocko winced every time he dwelled on the fact that when he returned to his times, he would never see his new friends again. However, the time traveler was a self-made man who was in the right place at the right time and decided to help his new friends out.
It was the last night before the ship was to dock at Naples and as usual they gathered in his cabin. Rocko passed out the Cuban cigars and they drank the wine he had purchased from Pete, the waiter who so appreciative of the fifty-dollar tip that Rocko slipped him. He raised his glass and said to the three officers, “To a great future for you three, may you all prosper.”
They touched glasses and said “Cheers.”
“Now,” said Sam, “to Captain Rocko Perna who kept us in fine wine, cigars and food that we can’t even pronounce.”
They touched glasses again and Rocko refilled them. The feeling was festive, while mellow, as all knew the trip was coming to an end.
“Speaking for the three of them, Sam said, “Captain Rocko Perna, we are going to miss you.”
“And I, you three. You must admit that I guided your culinary tastes to a new high. Correct?”
All three nodded and he went on, “So if I ask a favor of the three of you, would you honor that wish?”
The three nodded again and Rocko took three envelopes from under his pillow and gave one to each of them. “Before you open your envelope let me say that I am a well-to-do man who got that way by being in the right place at the right time. Tonight has put the three of you in that same place at the correct time if you choose to follow my advice. Would you do that? Would you promise to follow my advice?”
The three men looked at each other and shrugged as Sam said, “Sure, Rocko. I will.”
Pines and Schaeffer both said the same, “Sure, I’ll follow your advice.”
Rocko went on, “Inside of each envelope is three hundred dollars and a name of a stock that my very best advisors have said is going to be one of the biggest companies ever. The name of the company is AT&T: American Telephone & Telegraph. If you take the money and purchase the stocks and hold on to them, I guarantee that you three men will be very well off in the not too far future.”
“Whoa,” said Sam, “I can’t take your money, Rocko.”
In response, Rocko nodded and said, “I understand, but why not do this for your family? Maybe you’ll get married and this would give you a nice nest egg. If you feel funny about taking the money, simply do this: put it in the mail and send it to the hospital of your choice as a gift, but, send the three hundred dollars after you have purchased the stocks and cashed one when it goes up.”
Pines looked at the envelope and said, “I know I said that I’d follow your wish, but . . . “
“But what? The three hundred dollars I gave you was nothing more than some of the money that I came into and now I wish to share my good fortune with my friends. I won’t take it back. Believe me.”
“Well,” added Schaeffer, “you must admit that it is not every day that someone gives you a small fortune.”
“I do admit it and maybe some day you three will be in a position as me and do the same for a friend of yours.” He poured more wine and stood, “Here’s to true friends, past, present and future.”
They all toasted.
The next morning the boat was an example of controlled chaos as sergeants barked orders to their men, who, as far as Rocko could see were doing everything perfectly. Guess they need to make sure the men know who’s in charge, he thought as he hefted his suitcase and waited near the gangway. The four men had finished breakfast and shook hands goodbye with promises of meeting up again which Rocko knew was not going to ever happen.
A series of bugle calls, whistles and shouts from sergeants started the men with their horses out of the ship’s hold and down the gangway onto the dock where they once again went through another head count.
Rocko smiled as he saw Sam and the two lieutenants taking charge of the seemingly chaotic group. As he walked down the gangway, the group of soldiers and horses marched off, the men singing cadence.
The hot sun was beating down and the time traveler saw a policeman and approached him, “Mi scusi, agente, può indirizzarmi alla ferrovia di Rapido?”
(“Excuse me, officer, can you direct me to the Rapido Railway?”)
The man nodded and smiled at the foreigner who speaks his language so fluently. “Sì, vai su Figgoria Street e a tre vie si trova la stazione.”
(“Yes, go up Figgoria Street and in three streets you will find the station.”)
Rocko did a small salute and said, “Grazie, ciao.” He walked up the inclined cobblestoned street passing little children playing at the feet of their mothers who were hanging wash on a common line as they chatted away with other women doing the same thing. A young boy volunteered to help him with his suitcase so he let him carry it for half of the distance and gave him a coin. The smiling boy ran off.
The station was old already as the wooden roof had many holes in it. There were a small number of people waiting for the train and all avoided standing under the holes where the sun poured through. Rocko joined them waiting for the train and soon was doing what all of the others were doing: fanning their faces with anything available, in his case it was his hat.
Finally, the sound of a train’s whistle could be heard off in the distance followed by a thin ribbon of white smoke that could be seen moving slowly along behind a hill. Suddenly it came into view heading towards them and the passengers picked up their parcels as it pulled into the station. An orderly line was created by a small, thin conductor as soon as he stepped down from the train with a red paddle in his hand. He pulled the ends of his thin black mustache while helping the women step up into the only open door of the train. Rocko allowed all of the passengers to get on before him and upon entering the dark train the conductor waved his paddle and the train started to move.
Rocko spotted a seat next to the door and took it. He grinned as he felt the horsehair stuffed seat. It was as hard as sitting on a board. The train was a lot like the trains in the U.S. but was decorated by designers who clearly enjoyed their jobs. The walls were wooden panels with molding that ran around their edges and each panel depicted a scene of an old master’s work. The floor was covered in a tan rug with dark brown trim that matched the seat coverings. The windows opened by sliding the glass pane to the side and each had a shade with a gold tassel at the end of the pull string. There were six overhead electric lights that flickered as the train’s steel wheels left the track every now and then. But the best was the ceiling, at least in the car that the time trav
eler was in: It was a pretty good copy of the Creation of Adam, the painting done by Michelangelo on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
As he settled in he suddenly caught a whiff of provolone cheese, which he now saw that almost every passenger had a chunk of. He smiled as he remembered his mother in their kitchen in Brooklyn as she cut a wedge off the wheel of provolone for him.
“Now, let that hold you until dinner,” she would say. He closed his eyes to enjoy the moment and, feeling a presence next to him, he opened his eyes to see a heavy gray-haired woman standing in the aisle looking down at him. She said, (in Italian) “Sonny, how come you don’t have your lunch out?”
“I don’t have any, m’am. I’ll get something at the end of the line.”
“Ha! The end of the line might be two hours or ten.” She shook her head and went to her seat only to return with a wedge of cheese and piece of Italian bread. “Here. You make sure to eat it all. A boy like you needs to be strong.” Rocko took the offered food and rolled his eyes, as he smelled the cheese, “Fantastic! I thank you so much, m’am.” She smiled and went back to her seat as the conductor entered the car and stopped by Rocko who handed him a ticket. The man punched it and passed it back to Rocko, as he asked, “No wine with your meal?”
Rocko shrugged his wide shoulders and once again answered in Italian, “No, I just got off the ship and rushed to get this train.”
“You rushed to get this train?” he said with a grin, “Sir, this train is always late. You had plenty of time to buy some wine.” He walked off and in less than five minutes another woman stopped by Rocko, a half-full bottle of red wine in her hand.
“Excuse me, sir, but I heard that you had no wine so please allow me to share mine with you. All I ask is that you return me the empty bottle. Oh, and I hope you like it, my husband made it last night. Enjoy!”
Overtaken by the Italian hospitality Rocko tried to stand but she gently put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Sit and eat. Make your mother happy.”
Rocko ate and drank then followed the rest of the passengers and took a nap.
A gentle tapping on his shoulder woke Rocko and he saw the conductor as he went down the aisle waking the passengers. Rocko gave the woman back her empty wine bottle and tried to pay her, but she would not take it. The train’s whistle sounded and he stood by the door that the conductor stood at.
“Enjoyable trip, sir,” he asked.
“Very enjoyable, thank you, sir.”
The train slowed to a stop and Rocko stepped down onto Lucera station. He left the station and spotted a policeman on his beat. In his best Italian, Rocko asked, “Excuse me, officer. Can you tell me where I can catch a ride to the Foggia Air Station?”
The policeman turned and pointed behind him as he said, “There’s a motor car from the base loading up supplies for the station over at Viscovi’s Bakery. I just passed them. One street that way,” he said pointing away from the train station.
“Thank you so much, officer. Good day.”
Rocko hefted his suitcase and headed in the direction pointed out by the policeman. He reached the bakery to see an American trooper checking off a list of provisions, as they were loaded in the rear of a small U.S. Army truck. When he saw Rocko he stood straight and saluted him. Rocko was momentarily at a loss but quickly regained his thoughts and answered his salute.
“At ease, trooper. By any chance are you going to the Foggia Air Base?”
“Yes, sir, sure am. Would you like a lift?”
“That would be great.”
“Hop in, Captain. I’ll be done in a minute.”
Rocko placed his suitcase behind the passenger’s seat and climbed up into the cab. Wow! He thought as he checked out the machine, It’s a 1917 Mack AC “Bulldog” with solid rubber tires and driven by a chain drive system, like a kid’s bike. Seven curved steel ribs over the flatbed support the canvas cover. This is fantastic! Wait until I get to tell John Brand and Bill that I got a ride in one. Because the weather was warm and sunny, the canvas sides were rolled up and the windshield folded down.
The trooper climbed up into his side of the cab and flipped the ignition switch on, then climbed back down and went to the front of the truck. He took the starter crank from its holder, inserted it in the hole in front of the grill and turned it with a big pull that physically cranked the engine, which, because it was warmed up already, started on the first try with a roar and a belch of blue and white exhaust. He ran back to the cab as Rocko thought, That’s right, there are no electric starters yet. Cars and trucks have to be crank-started by hand.
The young trooper looked to his left and Rocko watched his arm muscles bulge as he turned the extra-wide steering wheel and left the storefront in a haze of the blue-white exhaust. No power steering yet either, thought Rocko as he watched the trooper pull hard on the wide steering wheel in order to turn.
“I appreciate the lift, trooper.”
“No problem, Captain. Was there no one here to meet you?”
“No. Typical Washington mistake.”
“I’m Private McLeary, sir. Am I out of order by asking what your job is at the base?”
“I’m Captain Perna, and actually I’m here on orders from Washington to check and see if our troops have any morale problems.”
The trooper shrugged and said, “Sounds like you’re here to see about our commander.”
“Well, I’ve heard stories. I bet you appreciate his style of command.”
“Yes sir, I do. And so does every other trooper in the wing. He’s the best officer I’ve ever worked under. Even Sergeant Quint loves him.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m not here to change anything about how he runs the wing. It sounds like he has you all in the highest morale possible.”
“Yes sir,” he turned and faced Rocko as he asked, “Sir, is it all right to tell the boys that you’re not here to replace him?”
Rocko grinned, “Sure, no problem.”
Twenty minutes later they reached the base. “Will you take me to the Base Headquarters, trooper?” asked Rocko.
“Will do, sir. In case nobody tells you, chow is at five sharp and tonight we’re having Manicotti and baked clams. Believe me, sir, you don’t want to miss it.”
Rocko grinned, “Sounds like a commander’s dish.”
The trooper smiled as he nodded his head. He pulled the truck in front of the Base Headquarters and as Rocko was getting down, the trooper said, “Oh, sir, I forgot to tell you that the reason I was at the bakery was to pick up the one hundred Cannoli ordered by the commander. See you in the chow hall.” He drove away in a cloud of smoke.
A grinning Rocko walked up the three wooden steps thinking, Major Ryan sounds like a great guy to me. He opened the screen door to the sound of typing. He stepped in and saw the usual military headquarters: three wooden desks with a soldier behind each one, all-typing out reports of one kind or another. In the corner near an open window sat a sergeant who watched as Rocko entered. He stood and called out: “Attention!”
The three men jumped to attention as Rocko nodded and said, “As you were gentlemen.” They sat back down and the typing resumed.
“How may I help you, Captain?” asked the sergeant.
“I’m doing a temporary duty assignment here at Foggia and wanted to pay my respects to Colonel Ryan.”
“I’m Sergeant Quint, sir, let me see if the commander is . . . “
He was interrupted by the opening of the door to the commander’s office, Out stepped a tall, well-built man, whose brown and gray hair told Rocko that he was in his mid-thirties.
Rocko saluted and Ryan answered his salute and followed up with a handshake, “Captain, come on in and sit.” He turned to the sergeant and said, “Sergeant, will you keep visitors away for a bit?”
The sergeant’s “Yes sir,” resounded off of the wooden walls as Ryan escorted Rocko into his office. Rocko handed him his orders.
“Sit, Captain,” he said pointing at the chair
facing his desk. He went and sat in his seat and said, “Give me a minute, Captain.” He scanned the orders and then scanned them again, folded them and passed them back to Rocko. “Morale officer? That’s a new one, Cap, ah, Rocko. Call me William, at least when we’re alone. So, what does a morale officer do, Rocko?”
“William, it’s no big deal. The boys in Washington got wind of the French troops who went on strike at Chemin des Dames on April 27, 1917. 30,000 French troops left the front lines and went to the rear. Fortunately the Germans never got wind of it or the war would have been lost right there.”
The Colonel’s eyes were wide as he said, “I-I never heard of an army going on strike.”
“It’s supposed to be top secret so anyone who knows is supposed to keep it a secret.”
The Colonel shrugged and said, “So, you’re here to make sure the men of the Foggia Air Base have good morale.” He sat back and crossed his legs as he went on, “Well, this is one place that the morale is extremely high!”
“Yes, I heard.”
“So, Washington got my memos?”
Rocko shrugged and as he really didn’t know anything about the Colonel’s memos said, “William, I really don’t know anything about any memos, I just mean that I spoke with one of your troopers as he gave me a lift and he told me about the high morale. It seems they all loved your first-class cabins on the way over and your continued generosity by supplying them outstanding food and desserts and I can’t say I blame them.”
The Colonel started to laugh so hard that he couldn’t talk for a few moments. Finally, with a perplexed Rocko looking on, he was able to say, “Rocko, my name and rank is Colonel William Ord Ryan, overall Commander of Foggia Air base, but the man you are talking about is the commander of the Foggia Air Wing! We in HQ call him Captain Big Bucks!”
Rocko sat closer, “I-I don’t get it. You’re the base commander, but he’s in charge of the flying section?”
“Right. At one time everyone reported to me but he must have some pretty high contacts because Washington told me explicitly to let him command the flying detachment any way he pleases. They said that, because they were told to leave him alone. I mean this captain goes to dinner with Italy’s King Victor Emanuel! He sits in on their cabinet meetings and advises them on what they should do! This man has clout and I must say, he is a great guy! Everyone loves him, including me! He runs his group and I run mine and I’ll make general because of how nice everything flows.” He leaned closer and said, “The word is that he’s a congressman back in the states.”
Book X Page 15