by Linda Bridey
“PFC Samuels?” the officer asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Lt. Colonel Ferris. As you were, Private,” Ferris said, being considerate of the fact that Sawyer was still recovering from his wounds.
Sawyer relaxed and Devon retrieved his crutch for him. “Thanks. How can I help you, sir?” he asked.
Ferris took off his hat and smiled at Devon. “This your girl, Private?”
“Yes, sir. This is Devon Dwyer.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Dwyer. You’re a lucky fella to have such a pretty gal.”
“Yes, sir.”
Devon smiled back at the officer, but remained silent, not sure if she should speak or not. Frankie had been doing a few kitchen chores and had seen the car arrive. Looking out the window, she was shocked to see an army officer speaking with Sawyer. Her mother’s protective instincts kicked in and she went out onto the porch.
“Well, another pretty lady,” Ferris said.
“Sir, this is my mother, Frankie Samuels. Mama, this is Lt. Colonel Ferris,” Sawyer said formally.
Ferris extended a hand to Frankie, who shook it perfunctorily.
She said, “He’s not well enough to go back.”
Ferris nodded. “I know and I’m sure you know that he probably won’t.”
Sawyer didn’t want to talk about his discharge in front of Devon. He hadn’t yet told her about the whole awful affair. “Devon, I don’t want to hold you up. I’ll see you tonight.”
Devon got the hint and she didn’t want to be in the way, so she smiled and said, “Of course. Have a good day, everyone.”
As she retrieved her horse from the paddock, she wondered what the army wanted with Sawyer. She guided her horse over the stream and then followed the trail that led down to camp. She could cross the clearing to the trail that led up to her ranch, saving her the time it would take to go into town and around. As she rode, she prayed that all was well and for the day to go fast until she could find out what had taken place.
*****
Sawyer sat down at the kitchen table with Ferris and his driver, Corporal Jennings. Ferris watched Frankie move around the kitchen for a moment as she put on a pot of coffee. Then he turned back to Sawyer.
“Son, I’ve come to talk to you about your discharge,” he said.
Sawyer asked, “The fake one or the real one?”
Ferris smiled. “Both. How’s the ankle coming along?”
“Ok, I guess. I won’t really know until I get this cast off and start physical therapy. My surgeon here at home had to re-break it so that he could put it back together properly.”
“How about the shoulder?”
“Well, using crutches isn’t helping it much, but it seems somewhat better. I doubt I’ll ever see combat again,” Sawyer said. “Is that what you want to know? Something tells me that you didn’t come all the way here to inquire after my health.”
“You’re very astute. I saw that in your file,” Ferris said. “You’re right. Let’s get down to it, ok?”
“Fine by me,” Sawyer said.
“I assume it’s all right to speak freely?” Ferris asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’ve come for the rest of the pictures you sent home. This isn’t a request,” Ferris said.
Sawyer said, “You already confiscated them.”
“No, we didn’t. According to the mail service, you sent home quite a few packages before you came home,” Ferris said. “I’m willing to bet that there were a lot of pictures in them.”
“That’s right,” Sawyer said. “They were the ones of the barracks and my buddies. Would you like to see them? I mean, if there’s anything inappropriate in them, I’ll burn them.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” Ferris said.
“Mama, would you get that box that’s in the office for me, please?” he asked.
“Certainly,” she said. She took a moment in the office to gather her wits. What was Sawyer going to tell them? She knew he didn’t want to give up the pictures that were in the bank deposit box, but she didn’t think it was a good idea for him to lie to the army, either. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she decided to just stay out of it for the moment.
Coming back to the kitchen, she handed the box to Sawyer, who sat it on the table and opened it before pushing it over to Ferris. The officer went through them thoroughly, looking at each of the photographs, examining them for anything taboo. However, he found nothing; it was just as Sawyer had said. They were harmless pictures of things around their barracks and of his pals and him goofing off when they were off duty.
He put them back in the box and slid it back to Sawyer. “Ok. So there’s nothing in there, but what about the rest of the house?”
“I don’t have any others,” Sawyer said. “This is it.”
Ferris’ brown eyes narrowed. “Quit lying, Private.”
“Stop calling me that. I only saluted because it’s a reflex action. I’m no longer in the army,” Sawyer said. “I have the discharge papers to prove it.”
Ferris held his hands up. “You’re right. You’re not, but I still have the power to have you arrested if you don’t give up those pictures.”
“You confiscated them!” Sawyer said, digging in.
Ferris noticed Frankie’s anxious expression. “Ma’am, to your knowledge, are there more battlefield pictures somewhere?”
“Don’t involve her in this. She doesn’t know anything,” Sawyer said. “You confiscated pictures from me.”
“Yes, we did, but I know for a fact that there are more,” Ferris said. “I’d hoped that you’d be truthful with me, but you’re forcing my hand.”
He reached into an inner pocket in his uniform and pulled out a letter in a green envelope, which he handed to Sawyer. “Go ahead. Read it.”
Sawyer knew without opening it what it would contain, but he kept his face impassive as he opened it up. It was a letter to Skip, asking him not to say anything to anyone about the pictures. The military routinely went through letters to make sure there was no inappropriate material in them.
One way that some men were able to get around that was to put their letters in the green envelopes and certify that there was nothing in them of a sensitive nature as far as the army was concerned. The envelopes were usually used for private subjects between a soldier’s family and themselves. The nature of the letter to Skip was such that there was no way to refute that there were more pictures.
Ferris watched Sawyer closely as he read the letter. “Now, where are the pictures?”
“Somewhere safe,” Sawyer said.
“Well, you’re going to have to hand them over. I’m asking nicely, but I don’t have to. I can have more soldiers here shortly and I’ll search this place from top to bottom,” Ferris said. “Don’t you understand how important this is to national security?”
“What I understand is that the government doesn’t want the American public to know what’s really going on over there. That’s why the newspapers and stuff aren’t allowed to print anything negative about the war,” Sawyer said, his anger rising.
“Watch it, son. You might not be in the army, but you’re awfully close to being arrested for sedition,” Ferris said.
Frankie said, “Sawyer, just do what they want. It’s not worth going to jail over.”
“It is, Mama. I’m sure in my file somewhere is the real reason I was discharged. My record is tarnished even though I served with honor and did whatever I was asked to. More than I was asked to. I was proud to be fighting for my country and I believed in what I was doing. No matter what those papers say, I’ll always know the real reason the army kicked me out and that’s hard to deal with.”
Frankie said, “I understand—”
“No, you don’t. I loved being a soldier and then I got hurt and the whole thing with these pictures happened. Suddenly I was treated like I was an enemy of my own country and threatened with being court-martialed for treason!”
To Ferr
is, he said, “Until those pictures came to light, my record was exemplary, as you know. You want the pictures, I’ll give the damn things to you. I risked my life to take them. I couldn’t help it. I’m a trained photographer and I wanted to document what was happening to preserve it for history. I wasn’t gonna do anything with them until long after the war was over. We have to go to the bank for them. Let’s go get it over with.”
Sawyer put his coat back on and stood up. Ferris and the corporal followed suit.
“We’ll bring him back soon, ma’am,” he said to Frankie.
Frankie nodded, folding her arms over her chest.
Sawyer kissed her cheek. “It’ll be all right. I’ll see you soon.”
*****
A half hour later, Ferris and Sawyer stood in the deposit box room of the Dawson Bank & Trust Co. The officer looked at each of the pictures Sawyer had managed to send home.
“I have to say that these are quite compelling. You obviously have considerable skill and talent,” Ferris said.
“Thanks. I’m so glad you like them. Are we done here? I have things to do today,” Sawyer said.
Ferris said, “You know, for someone in your tenuous position, you sure are cocky.”
“You got what you want, didn’t you? I don’t know why you would want to waste any more time with me.”
“You’re right. I don’t. Let’s go,” Ferris said. “You did the right thing.”
Sawyer made a derisive noise. “For who?”
“Your country,” Ferris replied.
“That’s your opinion. I’ll get home on my own,” Sawyer said, exiting the bank, and making his way down the street.
With regret, Ferris watched him go. It was a shame that those photos would never see the light of day, simply because they were so good. He’d been touched by their subject matter and he could imagine how much they’d affect the public, too. That was the problem. If they made him feel so much, they would turn public opinion against the war. He didn’t always like his orders, but he always followed them. Ferris put the pictures in his pocket, got in his car, and tried to put his regret out of his mind as he and the corporal drove out of town.
Chapter Fourteen
Joey ran into Sawyer, who asked him for a ride home. He’d been working with a two-year-old Standardbred who needed experience in traffic situations. He’d planned to drive the horse in and out of town several times.
“Yeah, I’ll give you a ride. Who brought you in town?” he asked.
Sawyer handed Joey his crutches and hopped up into the buggy. He was getting good at it now. Taking them back from Joey, he replied, “The army. They came to tell me that I’ve been formally discharged.” He hated lying to Joey, but he still wasn’t allowed to talk about the pictures with anyone. Ferris had made that very clear on the way into Dawson.
“Oh, jeez. I’m sorry, buddy. I know you we’re really hoping to go back,” Joey said. “They didn’t waste any time makin’ a decision. I mean, you don’t even have that cast off, let alone know how it’s gonna be once you start walking again.”
“They don’t want to wait to find out,” Sawyer said. “So, that’s that.”
The anger and disappointment in Sawyer’s voice and in his expression made Joey even more sympathetic. “Well, we knew that it was a good possibility you weren’t going back, but knowing definitely is hard.”
Except I already knew it. I hate not being able to tell people the truth! I will one day, after the war, but not now. I’m going to tell the world what they did to me and expose their deceptiveness. I only wanted to show how brave our men are and how hard they fight.
“Yeah, it is. I have no idea what I’m gonna do once my ankle is healed. The Dialogue doesn’t really need any help right now and we have enough ranch hands, too. This project I’m working on isn’t going to last forever,” Sawyer said.
He needed something to concentrate on that was positive. He didn’t want to think about what had just happened too much or he’d go crazy with anger and bitterness. He was trying to take D.J.’s sound advice about that sort of thing, but he needed a distraction. Nothing came to mind at the moment.
“I’ll figure something out,” he said. “So how’s this horse coming along?”
“Well, Borachio here doesn’t like cars, so we have to work on that. I think I’ll have Devon drive a car alongside him for several miles and see if that helps,” Joey said. “He can’t go crazy over there for our boys every time a truck or car comes along.”
“That might work. Which play is his name from?”
Joe loved Shakespeare and named all of their horses after characters from the Bard’s plays if at all possible.
“Much Ado about Nothing. Borachio is a villain and a servant of Don John,” Joey responded.
“Oh, ok. I haven’t read that one,” Sawyer said.
“Don’t tell Daddy that. He’ll make you read it and want to know what you think about it.”
Sawyer laughed. “Yeah, that’s how he got me to read Macbeth.”
“He’s tricky, all right.”
All the way home, Sawyer tried to let the whole affair with the army go, but it was difficult. Once Joey dropped him off, Sawyer decided to go to the barn. He was sure that his mother had seen Joey bring him home, which would relieve her mind. He needed a little space to get his emotions under control since he felt like crying and that was something he just didn’t do.
As he hobbled along, petting the horses, Sawyer longed to go for a ride, to just be alone with his horse and wander around the countryside. He couldn’t saddle a horse and he wouldn’t be able to get his foot in the stirrup anyway.
“I don’t need a saddle,” he said.
He grabbed a bridle from the tack room and put it on Archer. The horse followed Sawyer outside to a mounting block as he moved along on his crutches. Just as he was about to use his crutches to jump up on it, someone shouted, “Hey! Stop!”
It was Dean and his flinty blue eyes held disapproval. “Are you tryin’ to kill yourself?”
“I’m fine, Grandpa,” Sawyer said.
“Yeah, sure you are—until you fall off and crack your head open. You’ll be real fine then,” Dean said.
Sawyer gritted his teeth together for a moment. “I just need to clear my head and I wanted to go for a ride. I miss it.”
“I understand, but what are you gonna do when you get down?” Dean asked. “I’ll help you get on and then get a horse and come with you.”
“No, Grandpa. I want to be alone.”
“Sawyer, I’m not letting you take off on a horse by yourself. Now, either you go with me or not at all. The choice is yours,” Dean said. He almost smiled at the stubborn set of Sawyer’s jaw. He’d looked like that when he was little and ticked off about something.
“Fine! Go with me,” Sawyer said.
“That’s more like it,” Dean said.
After assisting Sawyer onto Archer, Dean quickly saddled a horse and joined him. Sawyer chose a trail that followed the north pasture fence and then branched out towards the distant mountain ranges. It eventually led down to the river and wound through a small section of woodland.
Once they reached the woods, Dean asked, “This have anything to do with that army car that came today?”
Sawyer stopped his horse and Dean came up alongside of him and halted.
“Yeah. I won’t be going back,” Sawyer said. “Damn it!”
“I’m sorry, son,” Dean said.
“You don’t understand. It’s not because of the medical stuff, although even without the other issue, I wouldn’t go back, I guess. I don’t know.”
Dean frowned. “What are you talking about? What other issue?”
“I was almost court martialed. I took a bunch of photographs that I wasn’t supposed to take, only I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to. They didn’t want them published in the press because everyone would know what it’s really like over there. They censor everything, Grandpa. They open letters and stuff that are
supposed to be private and all in the name of national security. They just want everyone to keep supporting the war and if they saw the stuff I photographed, they wouldn’t support it very much,” Sawyer said in a rush.
Dean had heard rumors about such things. He’d heard from some people around the area who’d had soldiers come home that none of their letters had reached them. Now he knew why; the military had kept them because they’d deemed whatever was in them as too sensitive.
“I saw some of those pictures and I know they’re horrible, but I still support what we’re doing. I wasn’t there, so maybe I would change my mind if I had been,” Dean said.
“I believed in our cause. I did. I loved being a soldier even though I was away from everyone. I liked the actual job, I guess you’d say, and I was good at it. I probably would have been promoted by the end of this year if I hadn’t been hurt and all of the stuff with those pictures hadn’t come up,” Sawyer said.
“I can see you as a soldier. I’m sure you were good. You were trained by some of the best soldiers all of your life,” Dean said.
Sawyer smiled. “Yeah, I was, and a lot of it came in handy, too. I was a lot better off than a lot of the city boys, I’ll tell you that. I helped them out whenever I could.” He sobered. “I took those pictures even when I knew it might get me killed. Bullets were whizzing by me and cannon fire exploding not far from where I was, but I still took those pictures because it’s only right that everyone know what our boys face in the name of freedom, Grandpa. Someone had to tell their story, you know? And now the army took all of my pictures and no one will ever see the hell our Doughboys went through to help secure the safety of the whole world. It makes me feel like all of my work was for nothing, like it didn’t matter.”
Dean’s own anger came to a boil when he saw the sheen of tears in Sawyer’s eyes. The last time Dean had seen Sawyer cry was when he’d been about six. Sawyer didn’t cry, so for tears to form in his eyes, told Dean his grandson was deeply hurt.
“Those were your pictures. How can they just take them? You faced death to take them. It’s not right,” Dean said.