“Stop, put your bags on the ground, raise your hands in the air and identify yourselves,” a deep voice boomed from the darkening evening.
“We both about jumped out of our skin. I dropped my bag and threw my hands in the air so fast I almost came up off the ground. Jack was a little more prudent, dropping his pack with one hand and producing our enlistment papers with the other. “Privates Jack and Richard Roberts reporting for duty, sir.”
“A light flashed on above us and a short, squat guy stepped from the guard house. A second man stood behind him, remaining in the shadows and keeping his gun trained on us. Who he was expecting to walk right up to the front gate of a fort in Kentucky and start trouble, I don't know.
“The first guy took the papers from Jack and read them over. He looked back and forth from the papers to each of us a couple of times.
“They’re clean,” he said over his shoulder. He handed the papers back to Jack and said, “You boys got here a little late. About the only thing you can do now is go down to HQ and let them know you’re here. We’ll radio ahead and tell them to be expecting you. I’d take you down in the jeep, but we’re pretty shorthanded out here tonight.”
“What do we do when we get to HQ?” Jack asked.
“Guy in there name of Helton, he’ll set you up.”
“We both nodded at him and passed through the guard house to the other side of the gate. We walked along in the darkness and within minutes we were standing in HQ in front of Helton.
“Captain Helton was about as out of place in the Army as tits on a bull. He was a tiny guy that smiled when he talked and seemed like he’d have a hard time using a flyswatter, let alone shooting at someone.
“Where you boys from?” he asked as he entered us into the fort log.
“Birch Grove, Ohio,” Jack answered, standing tall and staring straight ahead.
“Helton chuckled and asked, “That as small as it sounds?”
“I responded, “Even smaller,” and that got him laughing again.
“Well, you boys got in too late for chow, so I'll send you straight on over to the barracks. You might be able to snag something from the guys there.”
“He motioned to a fort map hanging on the wall, pointing to a black square in the middle with his finger. “This is the HQ, where we now stand. You boys are going to take a left out of here and head west, then make a right just past the OC. Head down a little further to barracks R and that’s you. Can’t miss it, has a big R painted in red on the side of it. Ask for a guy named Marks, he’ll take care of you.”
“Together we made our way past the Officer’s Club and over to our barracks, which was easy enough to find. Most of the barracks stood silent, largely dark at that time of night.
"Barracks R looked like New York City on New Year's Eve. Music poured from it and men were sprawled around the entrance, smoking cigarettes and talking. Bursts of laughter and light spilled from every open door and window.
“Both of us stood there for a good long while, staring at the party going on in front of us before Jack finally nudged my arm and said, "Come on, looks like it's time to face the music."
"To this day I don't know if he meant that as a joke or not."
Chapter Fourteen
Uncle Cat broke off in the middle of his story and returned his attention to the album. He looked down at the bus ticket staring up at us and in one deft flick of the wrist dismissed it to the side.
In its place sat the Jack of Spades.
“Do you know what this is?” Uncle Cat asked me, tapping the page with his fingertip.
“No sir.”
“That’s good. This is a playing card, one of the worst inventions on the planet.”
I didn’t know a whole lot about the planet, but I didn’t see how that little thing could be all bad. “Playing cards are an evil creation because they are never found alone. Whenever you see these, you see gambling, you see drinking, you see women.
“One time though, in just one particular instance, a playing card saved our butts.”
My face registered complete confusion as I tried to comprehend what my uncle said.
“Jack and I resigned ourselves to the fact that barracks R was ours and walked to the front door, trying our best to act like we belonged. Some of the guys outside looked at us funny as we passed, but they moved aside and let us pass just the same.
“A barracks is a place where people in the Army sleep, more or less just one long room. There are a couple of small areas with toilets and showers on the far end, but otherwise everything is out in the open.
“In the case of Barracks R, everything being out in the open wasn't a good thing. A cloud of smoke hung heavy over the room. Loud music played. People were all over the place, most grouped in a big cluster in the center of the room, but none of them so much as looked at us.
“We ambled forward to the edge of the circle and took in the scene. Dozens of sweaty and shirtless men were circled up, smoking cigarettes and throwing cards down. With each card that was thrown a new cheer went up from the crowd, most of them at least a couple years older than us, if not more.
“The two of us stayed that way for awhile as people came and went and money changed hands. After awhile a black man peeled himself off from the group and turned to head for the door. I grabbed his arm as he passed and asked where I could find Marks.
“Without warning he whirled and slammed his fist into the side of my head. Pain shot down my skull and a dull pinging noise settled in my left ear. I stumbled a bit and heard him say, “Don't ever put your hands on me, punk.”
“I didn't even wait for my eyes to uncross. I planted on my foot and threw myself at him. My right shoulder slammed into his chest and both of us toppled to the ground. I came out on top in the pile, but before I could even cock my arm back several sets of hands jerked me off him and pinned me to the ground.”
Uncle Cat watched the fishermen move further along the shore line, reeling and casting their lines as they went. He shook his head twice and said, “I didn't realized until I hit the ground that the music was off and the room was silent. Jack was pinned to the ground beside me and a group of men held back the black man I'd just been tangled up with.
“A big man with a thick chest and veins running down his arms emerged from the middle of the group. He walked between the three of us and looked hard at the black man. “Dwayne, calm your ass down.”
“That’s all it took to make him stop struggling, but you could tell he was still plenty mad.
“The big man walked over and looked down at us. He didn't look angry, but he sure wasn't happy either. “Who the hell are you and what the hell was that all about?”
“Dwayne started to shout out, but the man raised his hand and said, “I'm asking them.” He turned his attention back to us. “So?”
“Jack glanced over at me and said, “We were just trying to find a guy named Marks.”
“The guy looked back and forth between us. “I’m Marks. What’s it to you?”
“We just got here. Captain Helton sent us over.”
“Marks smirked and turned his attention to the men gathered around. A mischievous grin spread across his face and he bobbed his head up and down. “Since these two seem to be in a sporting mood, let’s have ourselves a little fun.”
“He turned his head towards us and said, “We found out a little bit ago that we leave for Korea tomorrow. Now, some of us have been here doing this shit for several months now. I know I for one ain’t too happy about being told at the last second that I have to babysit a couple of greenies.”
“He turned his attention back to the room and said, “So what we’re going to do is have Dwayne and the scrapper here cut cards. Kid wins, we welcome them to the unit, we all get rip roaring drunk, we head off to kick some ass in the morning.
"Dwayne wins, we all get rip roaring drunk and let the ass kicking begin with these two tonight. That sound fair to everybody?”
“A loud cheer went up fr
om the room as I was jerked to my feet. Somebody produced a small wooden box and a deck of cards and within seconds, Dwayne and I were positioned on either side of it.
“Marks held his hand in the air to quiet the room and said, “Since you are our guest, for the next few seconds at least, you can go first.”
“I looked at the stack of cards in front of me, breathed deep and reached down towards them. Part of me wanted to bolt for the door, but one glance at Jack still pinned to the floor made that impossible. I closed my eyes, grabbed a thick wedge of cards, and held it up for the room to see.
“A slight groan went up around me and I heard someone mutter, “Kid drew a damn King.” To this day I don’t know what suit it was. I never even looked.”
I looked over at my uncle and could see his hands shaking in the afternoon sunshine as he spoke.
“Dwayne looked right at me, tried to stare me down, and reached for the pile. Without moving his gaze one inch he grabbed a stack of cards, picked it up and looked at it. A grin spread across his face and for a moment I thought we were done for. The crowd seemed to inch in closer as he said, “Looks like we tied."
"For every groan that was heard when I drew a king, there were at least ten cheers when he matched it. Not a good sign from our new teammates.
“Marks stepped back to the side of the table and raised his hand in the air. “Alright, alright. This is an easy enough problem to solve. This time, Dwayne, you go first.”
“Dwayne licked the tips of his fingers and rubbed them together. A few members of the crowd shouted encouragement. Again he kept his eyes locked on me as he picked up a stack and showed it to the room. A mixture of groans and cheers greeted the ten of hearts.
“I glanced over at Jack, who was now sitting up. In the tension of the moment, he had been forgotten. Everybody was crowded tight around the table and for just a second I thought again about running, but to where? We were at a fort in the middle of nowhere.
“The second time I reached down, I drew with my left hand. My right I coiled into the tightest fist I could. If I didn't beat the ten of hearts, my first swing was going at Dwayne's head.
“I cut the deck once more and prayed I would pick the same card as last time. I didn’t, but I didn't have to.”
A tight-lipped smile spread across his face and he tapped the page with a heavy finger. “Good old Jack of Spades. I think everyone last person in the room except Jack and I groaned when I pulled it, but we didn't care.
“Marks took over on the spot. He stepped in between Dwayne and I and said, "Alright, that settles that. The rest of you get back to the game while I get our new guys set up.”
“Just like that the radio kicked back on, followed by the crowd regrouping around the table. Marks led us to two bunks in the back of the room.
“Jeremiah Marks, but everyone just calls me Marks. I’m the NCO around here, rank of Sergeant. I’m just one of the guys though, so you can me Jerry or Marks but never Sarge you got that?”
“Both of us nodded our heads.
"He looked at me and said, “So where you boys from there Jack?”
“Actually, he’s Jack," I said. "And we’re from Birch Grove, Ohio.”
“Marks looked at Jack for a second and nodded. “And what’s your name?”
“Name’s Richard, everybody calls me Cat.”
“Marks snorted loudly. “Cat, huh? That cause you’re a pussy?”
“I said nothing, just pulled back the sleeve on my left arm. Marks’ eyes went wide as he stared at the scars stretched tight over it. “Jesus, I was just messing with you. Anybody that flies back at Dwayne like that can’t be a pussy. What the hell happened there? You in a fire or something?”
“Cat fishing accident,” I said and left it at that.
“Marks looked at my arm again and shook his head. “These here will be your bunks, for the next eight hours or so anyway. All your clothes and most of your equipment are in the trunk at the foot of the bed. You’ll get your rifle first thing in the morning before we take off.”
“He turned and moved back towards the center of the room. “I wasn’t really going to turn the boys loose on you, but it sure was a hell of a show. You boys want a beer or something to eat, help yourself."
"With that, he disappeared into the crowd and we collapsed back onto our bunks. We didn't know it, but we'd just gotten orientation and basic training both in about five minutes flat."
Chapter Fifteen
My cousin’s husband Paul passed through the front door, nodded at us, and walked to the far end of the porch. He lit a cigarette and blew out a long plume of smoke, pacing a tight circle.
Uncle Cat slid his eyes to him and closed the album. He picked up the knapsack from the floor and draped it across his lap, engulfing the album beneath it. “Yeah, I tell you, this lake has some of the nicest bass in Ohio in it. When I was a boy we’d sit down here for days on end, pulling them out by the truckload.”
Paul took two more drags on the cigarette before he tossed it into the yard. He cast a disgusted look at my uncle and let the door slam behind him as he walked back inside.
My uncle waited a few seconds before dropping the knapsack to the floor. “You ever been to the dump with your Pa?” he asked.
The question surprised me and I could feel my eyebrows rise. “Yes sir, to drop off a load of shrubs we pulled from the side of the house.”
“When you went, did the odor of the place hit you like a wave? Did you wish you could close the door and never have to smell or be near such a mess again as long as you lived?”
“It almost made me vomit," I said, a touch ashamed. "Papa had to let me get back in the truck before I got sick.”
Uncle Cat chuckled. “Now imagine it ten times worse and you have what that barracks smelled like the next morning. Men were strewn everywhere, their bodies thrown across bunks and mattresses pulled to the floor. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and vomit hung in the air. The entire room looked like a natural disaster just blew through.
"With all the commotion, I’m not sure that I ever actually fell asleep. I just know that at some point I kind of drifted away and a few minutes later it was light outside. Jack and I were about the only ones in any shape to move, so we got up and out of there as early as we could. We put on our new summer fatigues uniform, packed up the few remaining items from our foot lockers and crept outside.
“We left barracks R and wandered back into the main building we'd been in the night before. Captain Helton was nowhere to be found but a young brunette girl gave us directions for how to draw our weapons and where to ship off.
“It took almost an hour for us to be issued our rifles, each one recorded by make, caliber, and serial number. We then had to sign a document stating that we would only use our weapon against our enemy and in the face of danger.
“Looking back on it, I'm almost ashamed at how exhilarating the whole thing was.”
My uncle stared out into the distance and shook his head. It seemed like there were a hundred things he would like to go back and tell that younger version of himself, but couldn't.
Instead, he could tell only me.
“We walked out into the morning sun with our new rifles gripped in front of us and felt like we were on top of the world. We had an old Wingmaster at home for shooting birds and an ancient single shot for deer, but nothing anywhere near an Army issue rifle. Both of us were dying to hit the firing range and try them out, but we never got the chance.
“We were halfway across the parade grounds headed straight for the range when Marks found us. “Hey, you Birch Grove boys going with us or not?”
“In all our haste, time had gotten away from us. Together we spun around to see our unit filing towards the front gate. Dread flooded through us as we slung the rifles over our shoulder and sprinted back across the grounds to join our unit. Marks jawed at us the whole way there, but between my own ragged breathing and the gun clattering against my back, I couldn’t hear a word he said.
&nbs
p; "Probably better that I didn't. Marks could be a mean cuss when he was mad.
“We weren’t the last people to make it onboard, but not by much. They were loading everybody into two transport trucks and the first one was already full. The second one was getting there fast as we climbed in.
"Two rows of grim faces that looked like they'd been awake less than five minutes lined either side of the truck. I didn’t recognize a single one except for Jack, so I just sat and stared at my rifle the entire time.”
My uncle placed the palms of his hands across his thighs and looked down at them. After a few seconds he gave me a sheepish look and rubbed them along the front of his pants several times.
“Where were you guys going?” I asked.
“Louisville International Airport,” my uncle replied. “The trip took over an hour with the sun beating down us, bouncing along the road towards Louisville. By the time we got there over half the men in our truck were vomiting over the side. Man did it ever stink. I don't even want to think about the poor folks riding behind us."
My stomach turned just thinking about it, but I didn't say a word.
“Airports were a lot different back then than they are now. Not that many people flew anywhere, so we more or less had the place to ourselves. Our trucks bypassed the main terminal and drove us right out to the tarmac. An oversized Army plane sat there waiting for us and we unloaded straight from the truck to the plane. We dropped our gear into oversized storage lockers as we boarded and that was that. Nice and easy.
“Jack and I grabbed seats in the front row, as far away from the restrooms as we could get. The plan for trying to avoid vomiting soldiers worked well for awhile, but before too long there wasn't a seat onboard that couldn't smell the stench.
"Five hours later we stopped for a few minutes in San Francisco to refuel and six hours after that we touched down in Hawaii. Far and away the longest day of my young life."
My uncle again leaned himself forward onto his elbows. I thought I caught an upward flicker in the corner of his mouth, but I can’t be certain.
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