Echo Taps

by J. L. Salter

  Being a few days shy of age ten, it was difficult for Milly to comprehend someone living eighty years. “How old are you, Uncle Edgar?”

  He smiled. “Well, I’m sixty-nine this year.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes as she strained to imagine how long it took anyone to reach that age.

  “Uncle Edgar, I don’t think we study the Civil War ‘til seventh grade. Why did they call it that?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Well, it was called other things, including the ‘War Between the States’. I think that describes it better. Several states wanted to pull away from the rest of America at that time and have their own government and economy.” He resisted the temptation to reduce the entire conflict to the issue of slavery, though many textbooks took that view. “They called it civil war because it was people of the same country fighting against each other.”

  “You mean Americans fighting other Americans?” She was stunned.

  “Yes, the Union government and President Lincoln believed they had to use force to keep the Confederate states from making a separate nation. So war was how they settled it.”

  “Even, uh, killing each other?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how it could be that important.”

  “I’m not sure I can explain it, Milly. I do believe it was right for America to remain united, as one nation. But I don’t agree that it required so much death and destruction to accomplish that goal, to preserve our union. The economy of the South was ruined for years and years after the war.”

  “Well, maybe they’ll explain it in seventh grade. Then I can tell you.”

  Edgar smiled sadly. He doubted her school would do much more than mention the War Between the States. History — particularly military history — had fallen through the cracks of the federal education industry.

  Back on the street, a combined group from several American Legion posts in Anderson County marched by. Some wore full uniforms but most had mixed civilian clothes and a few wore hats similar to Edgar’s. Many of them waved at her uncle.

  “Do you know those soldiers, Uncle Edgar?” Milly wondered if they just recognized his hat.

  A wistful smile formed on his weathered face. “I fought with some of them.”

  “Were you mad at them about something?”

  Edgar chuckled, which led to a short coughing spell. “No, Milly, I didn’t fight against them. I meant we were in the war together.”

  “The Civil War you were telling me about?”

  Edgar checked to be certain she wasn’t teasing him. Clearly she wasn’t — Milly was as earnest as most puzzled ten-year-olds. “No, it was the Second World War, some eighty years after the Civil War.”

  “Who did you fight that time?”

  Edgar could have tried to explain about the Allies and the Axis Powers. But it was probably way too much for Milly to grasp. “Well, I don’t know if I mentioned this to you before, but I was at Pearl Harbor and one of the Japanese bombs blasted me right out of my boots as I was running to the chow hall.”

  “Why did Japan throw a bomb at you?” She didn’t give her uncle time to answer. “Why weren’t your boots tied up?” Before he could reply, Milly veered away on a tangent. “I fell out of my slippers once when I was going down the stairs.”

  ****

  Kelly never did get to tell her beloved uncle what she later learned about the Civil War, since Edgar died before she reached seventh grade. No matter — they glossed over the entire war in less than four classroom hours of American history. Uncle Edgar would have been terribly disappointed.

  ****

  October 8, 2007 — [Monday morning]

  Somerset, KY

  Kelly had not thought about that Veterans Day parade for many years. Here, at least, was some information or insight from her uncle which could actually help her write the special section. He was blown out of his boots at Pearl Harbor. Hmm. She had completely forgotten Edgar saying he was at Honolulu’s Hickam Field “during” Pearl Harbor. And how on earth had he been blown out of his boots? Kelly wriggled her toes inside her tied sneakers, as little Perra watched intently. It would be difficult to pull those shoes off with both hands unless she stopped to loosen the laces.

  She counted to herself. It was the fourth recent flashback to poignant hours with Uncle Edgar. And as Mitch had noted, all were sequentially reversed.

  About an hour later, keys in hand, Kelly was at the front door ready to go check e-mail at the library, when she stopped. I need to tell Mitch about this. Perra looked up with puzzlement as Kelly put down her purse, sat in her recliner, and dialed Mitch’s number.

  After Kelly had related everything she could remember from early that morning, Mitch whistled softly over the phone. “Wow, that’s a lot of territory. Parades, flags, protesters, Civil War, and exploding boots.”

  “Not exploding boots, Goofus. He was blown out of his boots.”

  “Can’t even picture that. Must’ve been a horrific bomb blast.”

  “So what does it all mean?”

  “Well, as they say in dream interpretations, the question is ‘what does it mean to you?’ But actually I think it’s a pretty straightforward recollection. And obviously the experience meant a lot to you way back then.” Mitch took a noisy sip of something, probably coffee. “This is the first segment which can directly help with your special section. You know, all that parade info about Civil War soldiers marching in the 1920s. I’d never even thought of that before. Great stuff.”

  “Yeah, could be some cool sidebars.” She noticed Perra sniffing at the door, so Kelly rose to let the terrier out. At that precise moment, the large male cat — mostly Maine Coon — tried to enter. It was a tense standoff until Perra backed away with a slight whimper and Gato majestically strode inside.

  “Nothing new from your Aunt Mildred’s spooky tea bags?”

  “Her stale tea isn’t haunted, Mitch.” Kelly gritted her teeth. “But something special happens when I brew it and drink it. Somehow, that tea connects me to her.”

  He chuckled over the phone signal. “You might ought to have that brew checked for controlled substances.”

  She frowned as she paced. Nobody seemed to understand the connection. To Kelly, it was simple — Edgar and Mildred had a telepathic connection when they were both alive. Kelly’s mother — though nearly a generation younger than her own siblings — did also, but never discussed it. Kelly must have inherited some kind of precognition at least, if not more developed psychic abilities. Some form of communication from them evidently continued with Kelly even after they departed. Simple.

  “You still there, Kelly?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Guess I zoned out for a minute.” She started not to inquire, but couldn’t resist. “Don’t you believe in ESP at all, Mitch?” She thought she recalled him mentioning something as they were first getting to know each other during the previous year.

  “Actually, yes. And I do agree it’s very unusual for these lengthy, concise recollections to suddenly surface after some two decades.” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t making fun of you, Kelly. I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit. You’ve been so intense lately — since you started having these memories of your uncle. I just worry you’re becoming…”

  “Obsessed?” That may not have been his word, but it fit. “I’m not obsessed, Mitch. But when my uncle reaches out to me after twenty years and my deceased aunt tells me that everything will soon be revealed, naturally it makes my hair stand up a bit.”

  “Understandable.”

  “And I want to study every aspect of this from every conceivable angle.” She plopped back down on the recliner. Not only had the entire conversation not helped at all, it had frustrated and exhausted her.

  “I’m sorry, Kelly. I have been trying to help, but it’s not my uncle, so mostly I’ve been guessing.”

  She groaned. She hadn’t wanted to fight about it. “I know, Mitch. I’m just frustrated. I’ve got this big assignment, which I need for the money,
but I’m shooting blanks on getting a handle on it.” Kelly paused. “But it’s not your fault and I shouldn’t be barking at you.”

  “Well, you’ve already interviewed your landlord and you’ve got a big meeting at the American Legion in a few days, don’t you?”

  The commander of Post 38 represented a pivotal interview for her twelve-page special. “Yeah, Commander Coffey.” In fact, the editor would have shifted the assignment to a different reporter if Coffey had not personally approved of Kelly when they met at the newspaper office nearly two weeks before. “He’s the big kahuna of veterans in this area.”

  “That should give you some good foundation. You’ve got this nailed, Kelly. While you’re tapping out all those interviews on your keyboard, something’s going happen that’ll make everything fall into place.”

  “You think so?”

  “Know so. Remember, I believe in ESP too.” His smile was not visible on the phone, but Kelly saw it anyway.

  Chapter Five

  Summer 1986

  [About twenty-one months before his death]

  Anderson, SC

  Milly’s uncle had just trudged from the grungy fountain where he took a few pills and several swallows of water to wash them down. With hesitation in his legs and a thin hand on Milly’s young shoulder, Edgar seated himself on one of the older wooden park benches, which was long overdue for a new coat of paint. He coughed several times and then tried to settle things with slow, shallow breaths.

  “Uncle Edgar, why are those trees different?” Milly pointed toward two adjacent trees in the immense stand of lush green forest — about two hundred feet distant in one of their favorite city parks.

  Edgar realized she meant the two which looked like skeletons: gray, bony, and sick. “Well, I guess those two are dead… or dying.”

  “Why would they die now? The others all around them still have their leaves.”

  He squinted to see clearer. “Well, I don’t think those two are just resting for the season, which some trees do. From here they look like they were hit by lightning… or maybe dead from disease.”

  She understood the destructive power of a lightning strike. “Trees get sick like people?”

  “Well, they can wither without water or proper nutrition. That’s pretty much like people, except trees get water and nutrition from rain and soil basically. But not exactly like people because trees can die from infestation of insects and various kinds of blight. Now, the blights can be highly contagious… a bit like human diseases.” He looked at his young niece. “Does this worry you somehow, Milly?”

  She nodded. “I was wondering if those other healthy trees could help them somehow.”

  “In most of nature, when animals or plants get weak from some problem, they’re just left to die. It sounds brutal, uh, mean. But it’s the way of nature, except in certain species.”

  “Species?”

  “Types of living things. Most living things will concentrate their resources for the healthiest members and just let the sick ones die. It’s called ‘survival of the fittest’. But not all species are that way. Several mammal groups, including humans, are very good at helping the sick and weak and elderly. Some societies treat their elderly with great reverence… uh, really look out for them.”

  “How can we help the ones who can’t look out for themselves?”

  “Well, people assist others, help provide for their needs, and try to protect them. A human mother who’s starving will take food out of her own mouth to give to her hungry baby.”

  That example stunned her. Milly thought for a moment and pointed again to the dead trees. “But why those two? How come two right together… in the middle of all the healthy ones?”

  Edgar wondered how much could be comprehend by a child, several months shy of age ten. “Well, my faith is in the Master Designer. He created you and me… and the animals and plants. His overall plan for this earth also involves death. Sometimes — like with those two trees — it’s an early death.”

  “How does He decide what dies early? Which trees, which animals… which people?”

  Edgar shook his head. “That’s a question all the theologians and scholars — uh, preachers and teachers — have been arguing about for thousands of years. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better, Milly. You just have to trust His heart and plan… and His will.”

  “I don’t get it. If I had created all this, I don’t think I’d let any of it die.”

  Edgar smiled sadly. “You’re not alone, Milly. Most of us don’t understand all of that either. But have faith and try to be patient. We’ll know the whys and wherefores once we reach Heaven.”

  ****

  October 9, 2007 — [Tuesday, early evening, after supper]

  Somerset, KY

  Because she had notes from Coffey’s long interview to type, Kelly had not planned on meeting with Mitch at all that Tuesday. But she wanted to brief him on her flashback — number five — from early that morning. When they’d spoken on the phone about mid-morning, Mitch inadvertently sidetracked her by discussing the previous day’s bogus emergency which had been pranked by a local citizen to protest the next day’s county-wide civil defense and homeland security drill.

  So she’d called and suggested supper at the pizza buffet — one of his favorite spots — and he’d been delighted to pick her up.

  But there had been too much hustle-bustle at the restaurant to discuss her recent recollections of her favorite uncle and why so many of those beloved memories had suddenly resurfaced after so long. So she waited until they returned to her place.

  “I just don’t get it,” she said as they entered her cabin. Perra greeted them enthusiastically before dashing outside to bark at the darkness. “My fifth flashback about Uncle Edgar and it’s a conversation about two dead trees.”

  Mitch lightly rubbed his visible belly. As usual, he’d eaten too much. “Well, it wasn’t just about dead trees.” He closed his eyes momentarily, as though it would help him remember. “There were spiritual themes, the plan of nature, and…”

  “A starving mom sacrificing food for her baby.” It had been an odd assortment of topics to discuss with her uncle when she was hardly ten years old. Even stranger to remember their conversation in such detail two decades later. She sat on one end of her loveseat.

  “But nothing in the recent flashback about veterans, or the military, or anything related to your special section?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  “And nothing further from your aunt that might put any of this into perspective?” Mitch groaned slightly as he sat on the other end of the loveseat.

  Must be his sore hip. Kelly shrugged.

  Both were silent as Gato approached regally from the short hallway and rubbed against their shins.

  Mitch stroked the cat’s long tail and then repositioned himself with his legs over one arm of the loveseat and the back of his head on Kelly’s lap. As he continued to pet the cat, Kelly lightly stroked Mitch’s thick dark hair.

  “I feel certain that Edgar primarily, but also Mildred, is trying to reach me.”

  Mitch sighed heavily. He might have purred, had it been vocally possible. “And, judging from what you’ve told me, they have reached you. Your uncle in flashbacks to several experiences which obviously meant a lot to you back then. And your aunt in some sort of reinforcing way that I don’t quite understand.”

  “So what have I learned from all that? And how does it help?” She stopped stroking Mitch’s head.

  “You’re certain that these recollections supposedly have anything to do with your assignment?”

  She began nodding before he’d finished phrasing the question. “Definitely. I can feel it all the way down to my toes. Uncle Edgar took sick and died before he could explain something to me…”

  “Or, maybe he realized you were still too young then to comprehend it.”

  “Maybe so.” She hesitated. “Maybe both.” Kelly motioned that she needed to get up, so Mitch moved h
is upper body and she rose.

  At first he dropped his head back to her cushion of the love seat, still warm from where she’d been. When she began pacing and Mitch realized she wasn’t coming back, he swung his legs over and got to a sitting position. “At supper just now, you mentioned a few things about your interview with the Post commander. Some of that discussion was not about veterans, right?”

  Kelly frowned a bit as she stood near the front door. “Yeah, true. Actually, we were all over the place — talking about history, the home front, patriotism, the future, the greatest generation…”

  Mitch bolted upright on the loveseat’s worn cushions. “Greatest Generation. That’s the connection! Your uncle isn’t just trying to clue you in about veterans, he wants you to understand his entire generation. Him and his sister Mildred… and even their much younger sibling, your mother. What they faced, how they overcame it with grit and determination, and what they left for us.”

  Her expression brightened. “So I was looking at a narrow slice and my uncle and aunt wanted me to see the whole picture.” In her slow pacing pattern, Kelly then stood by the rear window and gazed at the trees which would soon change colors and start to drop their leaves. “Funny how your gut can be screaming something,” she placed her hand on her abdomen, “and your brain can’t quite process it.”

  Mitch stood quickly and approached. “Let me hold that while you finish your thought.” He hugged her from behind, his fingers laced together and lightly cradling her belly. “In fact, you do all the talking and I’ll just do the holding.”

  Kelly rested her hands on top of his. “You’re trying to distract me from my worries. I know how you operate.”

  “Usually works, doesn’t it?”