by Bert Carson
“Hunk, what happened there, son?” Brent shouted.
Hunk, staring toward the ground, mumbled, “I don’t know, Coach, he just got the jump on me.”
I looked at the dejected guard and knew what the problem was. Before Coach Jenkins could say anything else, I called to him, “Coach, could I have a minute?”
Brent looked at me then said, “Okay everybody, take a break.” He motioned for me to come to him.
I said, “Look I know I was out of line to interrupt, but I just realized what Hunk’s problem is. He isn’t slow. I’ve seen him run. The only place he has an issue is getting off the line when the ball is snapped. There is a reason for that; he can’t hear the signals. He’s compensating by waiting until the man beside him moves. That means he’s slow starting on every play.”
“How do you know that, Daddy?”
“I’ve run into it a couple of times with flight students. I’ve found the hearing loss is usually only in one ear and it’s normally not a total loss. That’s why Hunk isn’t aware of it. If, in fact, that is the case, there is a simple fix.”
“What is it?”
“Move him from the right side to the left side.”
Brent considered the proposal. “Okay, let’s give it a try. This time call a straight hand off to Powers over left guard, Hunk’s new position.”
As I walked back to the huddle, Coach Jenkins called Hunk and Rice over to the sideline. In a minute they were running back onto the field, their positions reversed. Coach Jenkins blew his whistle then shouted, “Let’s take it from the top. It’s first and ten on our own 40 yard line.”
In the huddle, I called the halfback handoff over the left side and led the team to the line. I turned my head to the right, checked the defense and began barking the signals. As I shouted, I turned my head to the left and called the snap number. I was looking directly at Hunk when the ball slapped into my hands. Before I could turn toward Powers, Hunk was off the line and in the face of the defensive guard who was no match for the instant onslaught from the new left guard. I pivoted, handed the ball to Powers, who, to his delight, found a hole that he could have driven his old Volkswagen through, the results of Hunk taking out two defensive linemen and getting in the way of a linebacker.
I called two more running plays over left tackle and the results were the same. Hunk and Coach Jenkins were elated. Only the left side of the defensive line seemed less than pleased with the change.
********
That evening I was studying, Bobby and Janet were at the library and Flexible was asleep in front of the fireplace, when there was a soft knock at the door. I called out, “Come in, it’s open.” I looked up as the door slowly opened and Hunk came hesitantly into the house.
“Hi, Daddy, I hope you don’t mind me just dropping in like this.”
I abandoned my book and walked into the living room, “Of course not, Hunk, have a seat.”
Flexible had moved from the fireplace to stand between us. I said, “Sorry, let me introduce you. Hunk, this is Flexible. Flexible, this is Hunk.” Flexible barked; Hunk and I laughed, then the big boy bent and rubbed the dog behind the ears.
“Sit down, Hunk. Can I get you something to drink? Coke, coffee, water?”
“No, thanks, Daddy, I won’t be staying but a minute.”
Hunk sat down in an overstuffed chair and I sat in the recliner next to him. Flexible sat between us looking from one of us to the other.
“I just wanted to come by and thank you for what you did for me today. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was. I’m sure glad you figured it out. And that’s all I wanted to say.”
He made a move to get up and I said, “Hold on, Hunk. There’s no hurry. Bobby is at the library; I just finished studying and I was going to make hamburgers for Flexible and me. Why don’t you stay and eat with us.”
It didn’t take much talking to convince Hunk to stay. In fact, it didn’t take much to talk him into three hamburgers and a large helping of French fries which he washed down with two tall glasses of milk. As we were finishing Bobby came in and joined us for ice cream.
Later Bobby and I laughed, recalling that night as the grand opening of The Edwards Hang Out. From then on there always seemed to be two or three players at the house, studying, eating, clowning around, and quite often talking about issues that meant the most to them. Matters they didn’t feel safe to talk about anywhere else.
Frankly, I loved it, and I knew the added sense of family came at a perfect time for Bobby and me.
Chapter 14
I studied the playbook until after eleven and then packed it in for the night. On the way to my bedroom, I stuck my head in Bobby’s room and noted that he and Flexible were sound asleep. I ran through my bedtime bathroom ritual, then slipped out my sweats, folded them and put them on the top of the dresser where they’d be easy to find in the morning.
I wasn’t sleepy, so I browsed through my favorite books, the ones that I keep on my nightstand. They are held in place by two simple, handmade, teak bookends that were given to me by a Vietnamese pilot my crew and I had rescued after Viet Cong shot him down near Vung Tao.
When I looked at the bookends, I wondered what had happened to the pilot when Saigon fell. Then for a second, with the sound of the Clark ForkRiver filling my ears I wondered if that had ever happened at all. I shook my head and went back to the book search, quickly narrowing my choices to either a much worn book of Rumi’s verses or an equally worn copy of Nevil Shute’s delightful novel, Round the Bend. I chose Round the Bend, since I hadn’t read it in almost a year. I was quickly lost in the magical tale, as if I’d never read it before.
I don’t know how long I read, probably an hour or more. I didn’t look at the clock. Finally, the sound of the river combined with the long football practice got me. I turned off the light, turned on my side, facing the open window and let the rush of the river fill my consciousness.
I was jarred awake by the ringing of the phone on the nightstand. I fumbled for the light, turned it on, and picked up the receiver halfway through the second ring.
With my eyes still closed I said, “Hello.”
An official sounding voice on the other end asked, “Is this Mr. Edwards? Mr. Josh Edwards?”
Fully awake now, I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock on the dresser. It was almost 2 AM. “Yes, this is Josh Edwards.”
Mr. Edwards, this is Captain Richard Lewis. I’m the Commander of the Uniform Patrol Division of the Missoula Police Department.
“How can I help you Captain?”
“We have a young man here who says he’s a friend of yours. He is entitled to a phone call and he asked me to call you. Just a moment Mr. Edwards, he’s right here.”
There was a rustling sound, then I heard voices too muffled to understand, and finally, “Daddy, Daddy, is that you?”
I recognized Hunk’s voice immediately. “It’s me, Hunk. What’s going on, son?”
“Daddy, I’m at the police department. The police think I was involved in a robbery. There was a shooting and one man is hurt… and…” His voice trailed off.
“Hunk, are you still there?”
I heard him breathing, almost panting, then he said, “I’m here, Daddy. I’m scared. I’m really scared. I didn’t want to call Coach Jenkins. You were the only other person I could think of. Will you help me, Daddy?”
In my years as a flight instructor, I’d received countless calls from students who found themselves in various difficulties. I knew from those experiences there was a lot more to the story than I had been told, but I was convinced that Hunk hadn’t done what he was accused of doing. I don’t claim to be an infallible judge of character, but in this case I trusted my gut. I’d have been more apt to believe that Mother Teresa had been caught shoplifting than Hunk taking part in a robbery.
I said, “I’ll help, Hunk. Is the Captain still there?”
“He’s right here, Daddy.”
The phone changed han
ds again and Captain Lewis was back on the line. Before I could say anything he asked, “Mr. Edwards, I think that I just read an article in the Missoulian about you. Are you the new Grizzly backup quarterback?”
“That’s right, Captain.”
“That article said you were a Vietnam vet. Three tours if I remember correctly. When were you there?”
Being a Vietnam vet doesn’t often pay any dividends in the civilian world, but I discovered years ago that police departments were an exception. Many police officers served in Vietnam or were close to those who had. “My first tour was in 1967, then 1969 and 1972.”
Captain Lewis said, “It’s a small world Mr. Edwards, I was there in ‘67 and ‘68.”
“Who were you with, Captain?”
“I was with the 9th Division LURP’s, Mr. Edwards.”
“Then I might have taken you for a ride at some point, Captain Lewis. I flew with the Greyhounds in 1967. I was a crew chief on that tour.”
I didn’t know what Hunk had done, but I did know that if I were going to get him out of jail tonight, it could be my flying with the Greyhounds that made it happen. “Captain, I’d like to come down and find out what’s going on with Jerry, and if possible, put up his bail and bring him home with me.”
There was a pause on the phone, then the Captain said, “Come on down, Mr. Edwards. I’ll see what I can set up. Do you know where we’re located?”
I’d seen the police department across the street from the courthouse, but to be safe I asked him if that was the place I should come to. He said that it was and I hung up. I slipped on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt and went into Bobby’s room. As near as I could determine neither he nor Flexible had moved since I’d checked on them before midnight. I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. Flexible raised his head, stared at me and wagged his tail. I shook Bobby again and whispered, “Son, I need to tell you something.”
His eyes popped open and I knew he had gone back to the morning almost six months earlier when I woke him to tell him that Kathy was dead. I quickly said, “Everything’s all right. I just have to go out for a while and I didn’t want you to worry if you woke up and saw that I was gone. Okay?”
He mumbled something and dropped his head back onto his pillow. Flexible lowered his head too, and before I could stand, they were both sound asleep again.
I tiptoed down the stairs and to my desk. I found my checkbook in the middle drawer and slid it into my back pocket. Two minutes later, I was backing out of the driveway.
I didn’t have any difficulty finding the police station or a parking space. I walked through the front door and saw a uniformed police officer sitting behind a counter facing me. When I walked up to the desk he smiled and said, “You must be Mr. Edwards. The Captain said you were on the way. Before I take you back to his office, would you mind signing this copy of the newspaper article about you and the team? It’s for my son.”
“Sure, I’d be glad to. What his name?”
As I signed the paper I thought, this is a first. The staff at FortRucker would never believe it. I handed the signed newspaper to the patrolman and he said, “Follow me, Mr. Edwards.”
********
Captain Lewis, a solid man of medium height, with a long out of style flattop, shook my hand, and then offered me a cup of coffee, which I gratefully accepted. For the next few minutes, we drank coffee and talked about the 9th Infantry Division, CampBearcat, helicopters and Vietnam, all topics that I knew something about. Then I said, “I was surprised to hear that Hunk was here. He was at my house earlier this evening. We talked for a while about today’s practice, and then he had dinner with my son and me. I’ve only known him for a few weeks but in that time I’ve come to believe that he is a very unlikely criminal.”
Captain Lewis opened the manila folder on his otherwise empty desk. “This is the report of the incident that occurred just after midnight. I’ve interviewed Mr. Jefferson and the two other young men. Based on what they’ve all told me, I believe there is a good chance that you’re right, that Jerry had no part in what happened. Probably the worst thing he did was show up in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He stopped talking and glanced at the half dozen or so pages that were in the folder. Then he looked up, stared thoughtfully at me and said, “Let me get the arresting officer in here. I want to hear his story again and I’d like for you to hear it.” He pressed a button on the intercom. I heard a voice that I recognized as the patrolman for whom I’d signed the autograph. “Henchee, find Murphy and ask him to come to my office.”
“Yes sir, Captain.”
Then he said to me, “He’ll be here in a minute or two.” We sat in silence for a moment, and then he said, “It’s not orthodox procedure, but I’m going to bring Jerry up here too. I want to know everything I can find out about what went on tonight.”
I said, “I think that’s a smart way to go.”
Captain Lewis said, “I’m shorthanded tonight so I’ll go and get him. Help yourself to some more coffee if you can handle it.”
In less than two minutes, Captain Lewis was back with a young patrolman and an obviously distressed Hunk. He directed Hunk to sit in a straight-backed wooden chair in the corner opposite the door and watched until he had seated himself. Then he turned to the patrolman and said, “Pete, this is Mr. Edwards. Mr. Edwards, this is Patrolman Pete Murphy. Have a seat, Pete, and tell us what happened tonight at the Peddler’s Bar.
Patrolman Murphy pulled a small notebook from his pocket, opened it, scanned a couple of pages, looked at me and began. “At 12:10 A.M. there was a 911 phone call from Peddler’s reporting a shooting with injuries. Dispatch sent a backup unit, an ambulance and me as primary. I was the first to arrive. I found the owner of the bar, a Mr.,” he consulted his notes, “Lawrence Peterson, holding a suspect at gunpoint. There was another wounded suspect lying on the floor. I asked Mr. Peterson to put his pistol on the bar, which he did. The ambulance arrived at the same time as Officer Thompson, the backup patrolman. I asked Officer Thompson to take the suspect that Mr. Peterson had been holding, and secure him in his cruiser. Then I asked him to search the parking lot for the suspect’s car.”
Murphy consulted the notebook again and continued, “The EMT checked the wounded suspect and told me that it was a minor wound, but it needed treatment at the hospital. While they were getting the wounded suspect ready to transport, I asked Mr. Peterson what had happened. He told me the two men had come in the bar, looked around and when they saw there were no customers in sight, the now-wounded man pulled a gun and told Mr. Peterson to give him all the money. He said the man was agitated, waving the gun and shouting. Peterson opened the cash drawer; and saw a snub-nosed .32 revolver that he keeps there. Just then a waitress came from the storeroom, and the suspect pointed his pistol at her. At that point, Mr. Peterson pulled the .32 out of the drawer and shot him.”
Murphy took a last look at the notebook and put it back in his pocket. “I went outside and asked Officer Thompson if he’d found the suspect’s cars. He said he had done even better than that, he’d found the car with another suspect, Mr. Jefferson there, sleeping on the backseat.”
Captain Lewis looked at Hunk. “Jerry, I know you’ve told me your story already, but I want you to tell it again for me and for Mr. Edwards.”
Hunk, in a voice that was so low I could barely hear him, said, “I was at the library until it closed at ten. Then I went outside and sat on the bench out front. There’s a streetlight there so there was plenty of light for me to study my playbook and that’s what I did. I don’t know what time I left there, maybe thirty or forty minutes, or even an hour later. I was walking back to the dorm when two guys pulled over to the curb and asked if I wanted a ride. I was pretty sleepy and tired from the practice so I said okay. When I got in the car they said they wanted to make a stop first. They drove to a bar and asked me to go in with them. I told them I didn’t drink and besides I was sleepy. They tried to talk me into it but I said no, I wa
sn’t going in, so they could forget it. Finally, they went in without me. I figured they would be a while so I decided to walk back to school, but it’s a long way, so I changed my mind and decided instead to take a nap. I lay down in the backseat and that’s the last thing I remember until the policeman opened the door and told me to get out.”
Captain Lewis turned back to me, “Josh, the suspects confirmed his story. I don’t know what they were thinking about when they tried this crazy stunt, but they are not hard-core criminals and I don’t think Jerry had anything at all to do with the robbery. If he’s guilty of anything it’s probably poor judgment. On the other hand, there are still several questions to be answered and I shouldn’t let him go until I have those answers.”
I glanced at Hunk. If it was possible for him to look sadder, in that instant he did. His countenance brightened when Captain Lewis added, “However, I’m going to trust my gut on this one and release him to you on $500.00 bail with the stipulation that you have him back here at 10 A.M. Is that agreeable?”
“That’s perfectly agreeable with me, Captain. Where do I pay?”
He laughed and said, “Follow me.” I stood, and he looked at Hunk and said, “You too, Jerry.” As we walked out of his office, he told Officer Murphy, “Pete, that’s all for now. You can return to patrol.”
********
I gave the desk officer my check, and he gave me a receipt then said, “It was good to meet you, Daddy. Thanks again for the autograph and good luck this season.”
“You’re welcome,” I said and Hunk and I walked outside into the early morning stillness of the sleeping city.
I pointed toward my car and said, “Come on, Hunk. You can camp at our place and maybe we can get a little sleep before it’s time to get up.”
On the way home, Hunk, who still wasn’t totally convinced he was out of jail, said, “Daddy, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come.”
“Listen, Hunk. This is important. You made a mistake going with those guys, but that isn’t a crime. You didn’t do anything wrong and eventually that would have come out. If my being there helped it come out sooner, that’s great, but above all, I want you to remember that you didn’t do anything wrong. Do you understand?”