by Paul Henke
‘Then good luck. If you change your mind about a bed then call me here.’
‘Thanks.’ I reached into my hip pocket and extracted the bills I’d taken from my two erstwhile killers. I still had $125. I handed it over to Zelda. ‘Here, take this.’
She looked at the bundle of fives and then looked at me. ‘I don’t want your money, Frank. My offer was one I’d make to a stray dog with the hounds of hell after him and nowhere to go.’
I grinned. ‘It’s not mine. I promise. So you might as well take it. It’s your tip for all the coffees you’ve served me.’
She nodded and took the money, slipping it into the pocket in the front of her apron. ‘Okay and thanks.’
‘My pleasure. I guess I’d better make a move.’
‘Frank, listen to me. The airports, the railway stations and the bus stations are all covered. Your best bet is to walk south and keep walking.’
I nodded and slid off the stool. ‘What’s wrong with north?’
‘Nothing. Only don’t head east. The ocean’s that way.’
I left the diner and started along the street going I didn’t know where. I just felt safer being on the move. Some sort of animal instinct I guess. The alternative was to find a hole, crawl in to it and pull the door shut behind me. But hiding wasn’t in my nature and besides which, it wouldn’t take that long for the hounds to smell me out. I had made a cardinal error. I had underestimated the power of the mob. I wouldn’t do it again. During the next hour I did some rationalising. My first thought was that they couldn’t cover all the stops. It wasn’t possible. Then something else occurred to me. For $5,000 a lot of people would sell their own grandmothers. Especially some of the cops I knew. So maybe they had a lot more people looking than I’d originally thought.
I came to a stop with a jerk and mentally berated myself. If I was going to get out of this mess with my skin intact I had better stay alert. I found myself looking at the subway entrance at Brooklyn Bridge.
The sidewalk was pretty busy. Not packed, like at rush hour when the lemmings were streaming in and out of the station, but with enough folk around to let me blend in. I wished, right then, that I was still a lemming.
Two men stood next to the entrance. I thought I recognised one of them. At that moment he looked directly at me, grabbed his colleague’s arm and pointed. I turned and ran. I dodged a few pedestrians, some of whom yelled at me to watch where I was going, but I ignored their offended ejaculations. After all, it was a toss up between getting shot or being yelled at. However, from the noises behind me it sounded as though my attackers were gaining. I stepped onto the road and turned on the tap. I erupted into a sprint as though a starter gun had just sounded. At that moment I realised I was hampering my escape attempt and reluctantly I dropped my suitcase. Now I could really shift. I turned down various streets and after a couple of minutes looked back. There was nobody chasing me.
I stepped into an alleyway. I leaned against the wall and waited. I was sweating like a sow in heat, a metaphor I’d learnt at an early age in Indiana. I was gratified to find that my breathing was already under control. I waited 10 minutes. Nothing happened. Just the normal pedestrians one could expect on a busy New York Street. You might ask which street but I hadn’t a clue. I was in a part of the city I’d never visited before.
Once I’d stopped sweating, I started along the sidewalk, still heading the way I’d been going. On the whole I’m not the impulsive type. At least, I didn’t think so hence what happened next takes a lot of explaining. I was walking past an army recruitment office and stopped to look in the window. It was full of posters about how my country needed me. The draft was a lottery. So far I’d won. I hadn’t been called up - yet. It made for an uncomfortable feeling, not knowing whether or not I would be. It was like the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. A lot of the guys I knew at work felt the same. A feeling made worse when others received their papers. The question was always, would I be next?
I hesitated. The thought of joining the army, navy or air force had occurred to me a few times. If I joined up maybe the army could get me out of town.
I walked in. The decision changed my life forever.
4
The room was government issue. Four walls, four desks, a couple of filing cabinets, a door that lead out the back and a coffee machine in the corner.
The nearest desk held a big burly sergeant with a chest full of ribbons. His name tag said MS Sylvester. Two corporals were at the other desks, one with a mere handful of ribbons, the other with none. The men were Negroes. Both corporals were smoking which made the atmosphere relatively unpleasant for a non-smoker like me.
‘Yeah?’ The master sergeant greeted me.
Not, I thought, a good way to greet potential customers.
‘I’ve come to enlist.’
The three soldiers exchanged looks and then the master sergeant said, ‘Are you kidding, Mac? I don’t like jokers.’
I frowned. ‘Why should I be kidding?’
One of the corporal chimed in, ‘Because people don’t just walk in. We spend our time chasing down draft dodgers.’ A thought seemed to suddenly occur to him. ‘You ain’t one, are you?’
‘Of course not. I never received my papers. I’m here as a volunteer.’
This time the three men exchanged shrugs, one of the corporals stood up, crossed to a filing cabinet, pulled open the top drawer, reached inside, took out a form and handed it to me. ‘Fill this in.’
I took the form and asked, ‘Now? Or should I bring it back later?’
‘Whatever, Mac, we don’t care,’ said MS Sylvester.
I took a pen out of my pocket and, without waiting to be told, sat at the empty desk. I filled in the form and handed it to Sylvester. He began to read through it. Suddenly he stopped and looked at me.
‘Are you kidding me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It says here you’re a lawyer.’
‘I am. Check with court records. They’ll confirm it.’
He shook his head. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Hang on Sarge, if he wants to join let him.’
The master sergeant looked at the man for a few seconds then back at me. ‘He’s right, but I still don’t get it.’
I shrugged. ‘Just put it down to good, old-fashioned patriotism.’ I looked at his chest. ‘Something a man like you can understand.’
He nodded.
‘How long you been in?’ I asked.
‘Coming up to thirty years. Volunteered in 1915 and haven’t regretted a day of it.’
‘So what’s a man with your experience doing here?’ See. Once a lawyer always a lawyer. I couldn’t help asking questions.
‘This is just temporary. I finish today. I’m on my way to Fort Benning this afternoon. Training raw recruits.’
A bit of flattery goes a long way, so I said, ‘Sounds like the army has its act together. A man with your knowledge and experience is wasted here.’
He smiled. His austere features were transformed and for no reason whatsoever I took a liking to the man.
‘You got it, Mac. Still, I go where the army sends me and now it’s to Benning. I head out today.’
‘When and where will I be sent?’
‘Someone will contact you,’ said the sergeant. ‘In a few days time,’ he added.
That didn’t suit me one iota. ‘You said Fort Benning was for new recruits.’
‘It is.’ He was looking at me carefully, as though he was expecting me to lie. I knew the look. I’d used it often enough on clients.
‘How are you getting there?’ I asked.
‘Normally, I’d take the Greyhound. This time I’m driving. I bought myself a Ford Station Wagon. Only a year old with low mileage. Always wanted one, only I was never in one place long enough to get me a car. This time it’s different. Been told I can finish my time at Benning. Where I started,’ he added for good measure. ‘Why you asking?’
‘Can I come with you?
’
‘Huh?’ The sergeant looked as surprised as he sounded.
‘Why not? Where am I likely to be sent?’
The man shrugged. ‘Fort Benning.’
‘So why not take me with you?’
‘Okay, Mac,’ he said, ‘come clean. This ain’t normal. And don’t treat me like an idiot. I’ll know if you’re lying.’
‘Ever thought of becoming a lawyer?’
‘Why’d you ask?’
‘Because lawyers can always tell when their clients are, shall we say, being economical with the truth?’
‘Lying in other words.’
‘Yep.’ I sighed, pursed my lips, blew out my cheeks, thought about it and then thought, what the hell. ‘You aren’t going to believe me.’
‘Try me.’
‘The mob are after me.’
‘The mob? Like in the Mafia?’
‘Yeah. Like in the Mafia.’
‘What did you do?’
So I told him. I didn’t tell him about the bounty that was on my head. After all, $5,000 was a strong temptation for any man.
He let me get to the end of my story without interruption. When I’d finished he suddenly burst into laughter and hit the desk with the palm of his hand. Once he regained control he said, ‘Now ain’t that the most goddamnedest thing I ever heard.’ He was suddenly serious. ‘You kidding with me, Mac?’
I shook my head. ‘I wish I was. But every word is true.’
He glanced over my application again. ‘Says here you speak French.’
‘That’s right. Learnt on the knee of my grandpappy and grandma,’ I said in a hillbilly accent. Just for fun, you understand.
He sat staring at me for a few seconds before nodding. ‘Okay. You can come with me. I’ll sort out the paperwork and say that you’re headed for Fort Benning for basic training and we’ll see where we go from there. It’ll cost you half the gas money.’
‘Fair enough. Thanks sergeant.’
‘It’s master sergeant to you. You’re in the army now.’
‘Yes, sergeant. I mean, master sergeant.’
‘Be back here at 16.00 and don’t be late. I won’t waste a second waiting for you.’
I nodded, quit the office and went shopping. I needed a few necessities like shaving gear, clothes from the inside out and a bag to carry it all in.
I was back at the recruitment office with 10 minutes to spare. On the dot we left. The car still had that new smell about it.
‘You don’t smoke, do you?’ he asked.
‘Nope.’
‘Good. Cause there’s no smoking in this little baby.’
I was relieved to hear it.
‘We got a thousand miles to go. There’s a motel about 200 miles south of here. It’s a truckers’ stop. We’ll stay there tonight. You drive?’
‘Sure.’
‘Good. You can spell me for a while.’
That was the end of the small talk until we hit highway 95. I was enjoying the journey. He had the heater blowing cold air as well as the windows open so the car was at a pleasant temperature.
‘Why are you really joining up?’
I looked at the master sergeant. ‘It’s like I told you.’
‘Sounded like a fairy tale to me.’
‘Well it was the truth.’
‘How come you didn’t tell me about the $5,000 on your head?’
I froze for a second. ‘How did you find out about that?’
‘Listen, son,’ so I’d gone from Mac to son. I guessed that was a further thaw in our relationship. ‘The army is a big place. We have people coming and going all the time. I’m a master sergeant. You want to know who runs this here army?’
‘Let me guess. Master sergeants.’
‘You better believe it and you better not forget it. It took me one phone call to get the full story. So why didn’t you tell me about the five grand?’
‘No reason.’
‘Sure there was. You didn’t trust us not to sell you out. Can’t say I blame you. Cassidy, the guy back in the office without any chest candy can’t be trusted. I made sure he didn’t leave the office in case he phoned someone about you.’
‘He can still do it.’
‘He probably has. But don’t worry, you’re in the army now and no one is going to get to you. Incidentally, do you always pack?’
‘Pack?’
‘The revolver.’
‘Oh, no. Never. I took it off a man sent to kill me.’
‘You need to get rid of it before we get to Benning.’
I took out the revolver and threw the bullets away one at a time. ‘I’ll get rid of the gun in the first trashcan we find.’
We exchanged life histories. His was riveting stuff that belonged in a book, while mine was as dull as ditchwater. Even so, he listened to what I had to say, which was gratifying. Of course, I had no idea then what he was up to. I worked it out a few months later.
We took two rooms at the motel. The place was clean, with a diner attached on one side and a bar on the other. I offered to pay for dinner. The MS didn’t object. He had a steak and fries while I had ribs and a baked potato. We washed the meal down with iced water and then walked over to the bar. On the way I dropped the .38 in a trashcan after first wiping the handle, trigger and barrel. I didn’t want my fingerprints showing on it.
Inside, I settled on a beer, MS Sylvester took a beer and a double bourbon chaser with ice. He told me more stories about the army. What to expect. What to do and not to do. He had a head like a rock. I lost count of the number of whiskies he sank, though if I remember correctly he matched me beer for beer which meant he had three. We hit the sack around midnight and resumed our journey at 8am. I drove some of the time while Sylvester dozed. We’d already passed through the states of New Jersey and Maryland. We hit Virginia mid-morning, North Carolina in the afternoon and South Carolina in the evening. We’d filled up with gas twice and when we pulled over at another motel near Greenville SC we filled up again.
‘About 300 miles to go,’ announced the MS.
We hit Fort Benning around noon. The place was huge. I later learnt there were over 120,000 people based there. We pulled up outside a building in the middle of the base. The sign outside said, Officer Cadet School.
‘What are we doing here?’ I turned to him.
‘This is where you get out. Take these papers with you.’ He thrust an envelope into my hand.
‘But this is for officers.’
‘I know. That’s why I brought you here.’
‘But I joined up as a grunt.’
‘You thought you did. I’m just cutting your route to officer by a few weeks. You’ll go in as an officer cadet. You’re too intelligent to waste as an ordinary soldier.’
For about the first time in my life I was speechless.
‘Why did you think I brought you with me? It wasn’t for your company, believe me. Nope. I wanted to check you out. You passed.’ He then spoilt his assessment of me by adding, ‘But only just.’
‘Can you do this?’
‘I told you, son, we master sergeants run the army, so yes, I can. Only don’t let me down. It ain’t usual and I pulled a few strings. Called in a few favours.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say little and do a lot. It’s always been my motto.’
‘It’s a good one. I won’t let you down.’
He shook his head. ‘If you fail it won’t be me you’re letting down, it’ll be yourself. Now vamoose. I have things to do.’
I shook his hand, said, ‘Thanks, master sergeant,’ climbed out, grabbed my bag and headed up the steps and into the building. The door on my civilian life slammed shut. My military career was about to kick-start and head in a direction I never dreamt possible.
5
Early mornings, late nights and non-stop all day. It was a blur. It lasted a month. Without a doubt I was being picked on. Singled out for special treatment that made me white hot with anger. I was determined
to show them they couldn’t break me. It was perplexing, but I was consistently punished for the slightest infraction. Press-ups, chin-ups, marathon runs and long swims. It was exhausting to say the least. I figured the instructors had taken a dislike to me and wanted me to quit. Which was ludicrous, because the army wanted people like me.
Then I was ordered to report to the CO’s office. I wondered what I’d done wrong. Maybe they were finally going to chuck me out. I would argue my case for staying in. Front line, not a ruddy clerk. Damnation! Why hadn’t I thought of that? Maybe as a lawyer they wanted me to transfer to the U.S. Army Legal Command? No, no, no. The last thing I wanted right then was to be a lawyer in the army. But I could think of no other explanation.
Behind the reception desk sat a sergeant, unlike the sergeants who had been putting me through hell. This one was blonde, curvy in all the right places and had a welcoming smile. Another place and another time and I’d have asked her for a date.
‘Ma’am, I’m officer cadet O’Brian. I was told to report here.’
‘Take a seat cadet and I’ll let them know you’re here. And don’t look so worried. And by the way, it’s sergeant, not ma’am.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I mean, sergeant.’
I sat on a hard backed chair while she buzzed through and told the CO I was there. I didn’t have long to wait. The intercom sounded and she told me to go in.
I stood up, nervously stroked my uniform jacket and marched up to the door. I knocked and entered. The CO wasn’t there. Instead there was a major as well as master sergeant Sylvester. I marched across the office and saluted the major who was sitting behind the desk while the master sergeant was to my left.
What came as a bigger surprise was the MS introducing me in fluent French. The major replied by asking me a question. In French.
‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes...Eh...Yes,’ I stammered.
‘Speak French, goddamn it,’ said Sylvester.
So I switched languages. ‘Yes, master sergeant.’
‘Two weeks ago,’ began the major, ‘on the 13th June, to be precise, President Roosevelt signed what is known as a military order. It established a new branch of the army called the Office of Strategic Services, or OSS for short.’