And Then We Heard the Thunder

by John Oliver Killens

  “Oh come you back

  When summer’s in the meh-eh-dow . . .”

  “All right—all right now—give us room. Back up! Back up!”

  The MPs began to shove and push again and pummel with their nightsticks, but they got nowhere in a hurry.

  “Upya!” a digger shouted.

  “Bash it upya!”

  “Let’s try to have some kind of understanding,” Jimmy tried. “We can—we didn’t—”

  An MP standing next to the sergeant said, “Will you shut your big mouth and do as you’re told?”

  They pushed and nudged and prodded with their guns, and the crowd began to push back and one of the MPs lost his footing, and the MP sergeant lost his nonchalance.

  “All right goddammit!”

  Scotty roared, “Why don’t you Yankee peckerwoods drop dead already?”

  Quiet Man said quietly, “Let’s talk this thing over—”

  But things had gotten out of hand. The panicky MPs reached blindly into the crowd near Scotty and grabbed two soldiers. One of them was Jimmy, the Quiet Man. They put the soldiers in front of them and moved roughly toward the door.

  Debby screamed.

  Worm had been in the rest room for one last nip and was on the outer edge in the back of the crowd, and he pushed and shoved but could not get to the front. Scotty grabbed the MP nearest him and the MP shoved his nightstick into Scotty’s stomach with all his might and Scotty doubled over and went down.

  When the MPs reached the door the sergeant turned and announced with trembling rage, “We gave you folks a fair chance. Tomorrow we’ll close you up and padlock you.” They went hurriedly out into the night.

  “Bash it upya!”

  “Bloody bawstards!”

  The MPs gone, the Amphibs piled out of the Southern Cross, Scotty and Dobbsy with them, and into their jeeps and headed for the Jones Street station. Worm was driving the front jeep with tears streaming down his face. “He didn’t want to come into town,” Worm said. He could hardly see where he was driving. “He knew what would happen—he knew what would happen. I talked him into it, and he didn’t want to come, and they’ll beat the hell outa him, and it’s all my fault and he didn’t want to come.”

  Dobbs sat next to Worm in the jeep. Dobbsy said, “It ain’t your bloody fault, myte.”

  Somebody in the back of the jeep said, “Ain’t no use of us going over there empty-handed. Them mother lovers armed to the teeth and they don’t be jiving.”

  They went two more blocks down a dark and empty street.

  “Them bastards got shooting shit and they don’t mind using it.”

  Worm said, “So what, mother-huncher?” The tears had blurred his vision. He could barely see the road ahead.

  “So let’s go get us some shit—that’s what. You sure can’t get Quiet Man out with no much-oblige or if-you-please.”

  Worm put his foot on the brakes and pulled to the curb and signaled to the others, who followed suit. They jumped out of their jeeps and ran toward the front one.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing,” Worm said. “We’re just going to haul ass back to the Farm and get ourselves something to persuade these people with.”

  “Now you’re talking like you had some sense,” Private First-Class Billings said.

  They discussed it for the briefest moment.

  The Pfc said, “All right, let’s stop shooting the shit and get on the ball.”

  They got back into their jeeps and went back in the other direction across the sleepy-headed town, leaving Dobbsy near the Cross.

  When they got back to the Farm they aroused the entire platoon as well as a few in Engineers and in Ordnance and in Quartermaster, as quietly they ran through the darkness of before-day-in-the-morning, waking other sleeping Negro Yankees, and they got ammunition from Supply and quietly and desperately they worked, mounting 50-caliber machine guns on top of Ducks and trucks, and they got rifles and carbines, as they got ready for the combat zone.

  Solly and Samuels had been at Celia’s ever since dinner. They bought food and took it to Celia’s and she cooked it for them while they drank cup after cup of coffee to sober up, and then they ate dinner and got drunk all over again. And they argued on the verge of fighting about everything under the sun and the moon and the stars, as she listened, and now it was late and time for them to go, and Samuels had passed out and was sleeping on the couch on the far side of the living room. And Solly and Celia were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and nibbling cold cuts.

  And she said for the umpteenth time, “So you’re really going?”

  He said, “Yes, I’m going home to my little family.” His eyes were heavy very heavy.

  She said bitterly, “And you’re not going to send for me, you don’t give a tuppence what happens to me, you’re just going—”

  He said quietly, “You’ll be in good Yankee hands—at least for the time being.” He nodded toward the living room.

  She started laughing. “How can you be so cavalier about it? How can you give me to another man? How can you be so bloody inconsiderate of me, who loves you more than anybody ever loved you? You don’t care a tuppence for me.”

  “I do care,” he stated simply. “I care a million quids for you.”

  She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, and she laughed. “It’s all very very cozy. You blithely leave me with your dear comrade. You leave one white friend in the hands of the other, and you go home to your insulated colored world and forget it ever happened.”

  She got up and came to him and put her arms around his neck and stood close to him, her legs between his knees. “Don’t you want me tonight—at least?”

  He looked up into her face, and he just sat there saying nothing.

  She said, “Why don’t you take him back to the Farm and come back and—and come back and talk to me?”

  He said, “It’s a long ways to the Farm and back.” And was sorry that he’d said it in the manner he had said it.

  She reached down and kissed his face. “How can you be so cruel?” She said, “Love me tonight. Take him home and come back to me.”

  He said, “I can’t see how you can love me, I’m so goddamn cruel and heartless.”

  She said, “You’re the sweetest man in the world, you’re the most sensitive man in the world—to other people—and you’re beautiful and you’re tough and at the same time tenderhearted, and you’re intelligent and you’re good to all humanity, and you’re only mean and cruel to me! And you’re a bloody brute!” He felt her tears hot and salty on his cheeks and he tasted her sweet salty tears. He did not need her tears tonight.

  He said, “There is something I must tell you—something about back home in the States.”

  “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know! I already know! I already feel it in my heart!”

  “I must tell—I must tell you. There’s another girl back in the States. I’ve always loved her. There’s—” She kissed the words back in his mouth.

  “I know it and I don’t want to know it. I can tell you. She’s—she’s beautiful, she’s wonderful, and she’s colored and there are no problems like with us!”

  He said, “There is a problem—there is a problem. She’s engaged to marry another man.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Then how? What?”

  His anguished voice became a whisper. The one thing he did not want to do was to cause pain for anybody, especially one for whom he cared, like Celia.

  “She became engaged before she knew I had lost my wife. I sent her a wire the other day about my present situation, but I haven’t heard from her, and for all I know she might prefer the other fellow to such as me. She might be already married.”

  “Yes! Of course!” she said excitedly. But then she shook her head. “No—no she wouldn’t. If she ever was in love with you, she wouldn’t. And you know bloody well she wouldn’t.”

  He said, “If it were not for her, Celia, I think maybe the other things woul
dn’t have a ghost of a chance to keep you and me apart. They just would not matter. I mean—”

  She said, “Why didn’t you tell me? How could—?”

  He said, “I tried to—so help me—” And the telephone rang throughout the house and she did not move, and it rang again and again and again, and he started to get up and she said, “Let it ring. It’s probably the wrong number. Nobody calls me this time of night.”

  It rang three or four more times and it stopped.

  She said, “See, what did I tell you?”

  And then it began to ring again and again and again, and he said, “I’d better get it.”

  She followed him as he went in the living room to the phone which was near where Samuels lay. The captain was trying to straighten up and was reaching for it. Solly picked up the receiver.

  “Hello, Saunders here.”

  The other voice said, “Sarge?”

  He said, “Yes—” His heart began to leap about.

  The voice said, “This the Charge-of-Quarters, Corporal Jenkins.” Solly felt the excitement in the corporal’s voice. The corporal told him about the fracas at the Southern Cross and the men had come back to the Farm and had mounted 50-calibers on trucks and Ducks along with other colored soldiers and had taken off for town. They had made out phony papers for them going on before-day-in-the morning maneuvers. That’s how they got out of the gate. Solly looked at his watch. “Great God almighty!” It was four-fifteen already!

  “Why in the hell didn’t you call me before they got started?”

  The voice from the other end was suddenly weak. “I misplaced the phone number, Sergeant, I swear fore God!”

  “All right,” Solly said. “Now, where are they going, and which way’re they going?”

  “They’re going to get the Quiet Man at the Jones Street MP station.” The C.Q. added, “There won’t be any shooting unless the MPs set it off.”

  When Solly hung up the captain was already sober.

  Solly said, “Get yourself together. We got places to go.” He said to Celia, “Get him some black coffee quick!”

  Samuels said, “What—what happened?”

  And he told them what Jenkins had told him, and she went for coffee, and he asked the captain, “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  Solly tried to keep his voice from trembling. “I’m a master sergeant. That’s supposed to make me a leader, and a leader is supposed to be with his men when they move against the enemy. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I’m going to join them, just as fast as I can get to them.” He reached for his field cap. She came back with two cups of coffee.

  Samuels said, “Hold it a second, Sergeant. Let’s not run off half-cocked.”

  Solly said, “What is there to talk about?”

  “Why in the hell did Sergeant Larker let them do it? They listen to him. He could’ve stopped them.”

  Solly stared at Samuels and laughed bitterly. “Yeah—the only thing, I forgot to tell you, it’s the Quiet Man they arrested.” Solly remembered vividly the first time he saw Larker. “He always gets arrested.” The Quiet Man with the big brown eyes.

  Solly started for the door. He wished it had been someone else who’d got arrested. Why in the hell was Jimmy always the one to get out of line?

  “I’m pulling rank,” Samuels said. “I’m your superior officer and I order you to sit down at least for a minute and let’s see what is to be done. At least until we drink the coffee.”

  Celia said, “Listen to him, Solly! Please listen to him!”

  Solly sat back down and stared from one of them to the other. The captain drinking hot black steaming coffee.

  “I’m sitting for a minute, Captain Samuels, sir, but I’ll tell you right now, there’s no rank in the Articles of War or Army Regulations, including General-the-Almighty-Buford Jack, can keep me from joining the 25th Amphib. This is my war, not that Murder Incorporated up on the islands. This is my beachhead, you better believe me!” He stood up again.

  Samuels said, “There won’t be any shooting. Surely you don’t think—”

  The phone rang again and Solly reached for it, and it was Corporal Jenkins again. “I forgot to tell you, Sarge, there’s a cablegram came for you.”

  He thought he had imagined it at first, and then he felt a sudden giddiness, and felt a hard pain in his buttocks. Fear clogged up his throat and he thought he’d lost his voice, but he said, “Open it up and read it to me!”

  “All right, Sarge. Just a minute.” Then he read: “Will wait for you forever Fannie Mae Ebbensville Georgia U.S.A.”

  Solly said, “Thank you, Corporal,” after he had put the phone back in its place. His head swam and he thought he might break down and cry for the joy his heart felt. He saw Fannie Mae’s face before him now and heard her voice say, “Will wait for you forever.” He thought of Ebbensville, the house, the room, the fireplace. He forgot Celia and Samuels and Quiet Man and the Jones Street MP Station and all the rest of it. He was going home and Fannie Mae was waiting for him. Great God Almighty! How could any soldier be so lucky? He got up and walked around the room. Fannie, Junior, Mama, Solly—Fannie, Junior, Mama, Solly! Maybe he dreamed that last phone call.

  Samuels brought him back to reality. “The phone call, Saunders—any new developments?”

  Solly stared at Samuels as if he didn’t recognize him at first. Finally he said, “No new developments.” No new developments.

  Samuels said shakily, “I’ll go and you stay here with Celia. I’ll head them off and talk them into going back to the Farm.”

  Fine! Fine—fine, Solly thought. His mind was a beachhead of contradictions. Now that Fannie would wait for him forever, he did not want to keep her waiting one minute longer than he had to. His head was like a carousel. He felt guilty about his buddies, but Fannie Mae—dear Fannie Mae—he didn’t need to be a hero—he needed to be with Fannie Mae—and yet he heard himself say slowly, vaguely, “I’m going. I can’t speak for you. I’m going and I’m going to join them, not to head them off. We’re going to bring Jimmy away from Jones Street.” He was Fannie Mae’s man and he had to go.

  Celia said, “No, Solly, no!”

  Samuels said, “And all your plans will go up in smoke. They won’t let you go home till the war is over, and even then they’ll give you a dishonorable discharge. They’ll send you up north to the front. They’ll—”

  Yes, he thought—he hadn’t let himself think of the consequences until the cablegram from Fannie Mae. He didn’t really give a damn about their dishonorable discharge, he told himself. But if he went outside this door and got in the man’s jeep, this night of early-before-day-in-the-morning, he might never see his son in life nor Fannie Mae again nor Mama. Fannie Mae in Ebbensville, waiting for him forever. Because if he took this step, it would be the point of no return for him. After whatever happened happened, he could forget about his separation. He would probably be sent up north again island-hopping from beachhead to bloody beachhead till his number came up and his time ran out, and he felt his time was running out, as the perspiration ran from his head down and across his wide forehead into his eyebrows into his lashes into his dark and angry eyes and drained from his armpits now and down his thighs his legs, into his heavy Army shoes. He wanted to go home, goddammit he wanted to go home to Fannie Mae and Junior and Mama and forget it ever happened. He wanted to go home—go home—go home! The cablegram changed everything. And if he had not thought earlier that evening to suggest to Samuels to let the platoon know where they were, he would not have known about anything, and he would not have been involved, and he wanted to go home, but he couldn’t go home, because he was who he was whoever the hell he was, he had to go join his buddies and be part of what they were a part of and die with them if it came to that. With them moving now at this moment to meet the enemy here and now in the profoundest battle for democracy that any Yankee Army fought on all the far-flung battlefronts of World War II. The Battle for the Quiet Man!
There wouldn’t be any shooting, the corporal had said, unless the MPs set it off. He heard Fannie Mae now, that last evening they spent together. “Never sacrifice your manhood. Never sacrifice your manhood.”

  Celia saw it in his eyes, he had to go, in the movement of his head and shoulders, he had to go, and she thought her heart would burst wide open for the love and fear she had for this slim nervous beautiful tough-and-tender black man who had to go. Nobody else existed in her right-here-now-world excepting him, not even she herself existed. She went to the floor and put her arms around his legs. The sobs came from the deepest and the softest places in her heart. She forgot Samuels ever existed.