We walked down the road to the camp together, and when we arrived, most of the town was already milling around, talking with groups of soldiers. Momma looked around and spotted several soldiers standing over to one side by themselves. As she walked over she smiled and asked, “Would anyone like a piece of fresh chocolate cake?” She produced a knife, and within a minute the cake was gone. Dang, I nearly choked when I saw that cake disappear. I was hoping she’d save me at least a small piece, but when a tall, skinny private stood there, too bashful to ask for the last piece, I knew my cake was going with him. Sure enough, Momma, with a big smile, said, “Here, we’ve been saving this piece for you.”
Dang! Dang! Dang!
While everyone was standing around talking to the soldiers the colonel drove up and climbed up on the back of his Jeep. An MP blew a whistle, and a sergeant stepped forward. “Ten hut!” All the soldiers snapped to attention, and we all stopped talking. Wow, that was really exciting.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls:
I am Colonel John David Crossman, Camp Commander. First, let me welcome you to our camp. We will be here a few days while the Green and Blue Armies are on maneuvers. Today we have marched over 15 miles, and my men are very tired. They are working hard so they can go to the South Pacific and help end this War! (Everyone hollered, cheered and clapped when the colonel said that.) Thank you. And now I am giving all these hard-working soldiers a pass from o’clock this afternoon to 10 o’clock tonight. I would like to take this opportunity to encourage any families that have room at their supper table tonight to invite one of our fine soldiers into your home. I know many of your sons and relatives are training or fighting in some distant place, and they would appreciate a friendly face and a home-cooked meal just as these soldiers would. Thanks again for your hospitality.”
The MP blew his whistle again. “At ease!” yelled the sergeant, and the soldiers began walking around and talking again.
Heck, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. “Daddy, let’s invite a whole bunch of soldiers over for supper.”
“We’ll see.” He walked over and started talking to the colonel, who was visiting with a group of people.
I saw Momma still talking with some of the soldiers who ate her cake.“I’ll bet she’s gonna ask that skinny, Yankee private over for supper,” I said to John Clayton.
We walked over to a group of five soldiers and started looking at their guns. They were friendly, and before long they were showing us their rifles.
“Tell me about fighting the Japs,” I said.
One of them laughed and said, “Hell kid, the only war we’ve seen is with the mosquitoes and ticks in Arkansas. You tell us a war story.”
He kinds laughed like he really didn’t think I knew a war story—but I did—the one about Uncle Spencer, and I knew that one really well, so I said, “Okay, let me tell you about my Uncle Spencer. He’s a sergeant with the 77th and he was leading a charge up Chocolate Drop Hill, when the danged Japs started shooting at all the Americans soldiers, and they were yelling and screaming, but he didn’t get killed.”
It got real quiet and then I talked about Uncle Spencer getting shot.
“Then he was leading a bunch of soldiers trying to take out a machine-gun nest when, Blam! Blam! Them sorry Japs shot him and a bunch of other soldiers, and Uncle Spencer was lyin’ on the ground with blood going everywhere.”….
“Uh, kid, that’s okay, you don’t need to finish.” Some of the soldiers were shaking their heads and mumbling something I couldn’t hear. It sounded like “Oh God!” or something. But I didn’t stop telling the story because I hadn’t told them about all the pain shots and how much blood he had lost. I felt a little guilty about adding the part about the Japs trying to bayonet him, the screaming, and all the blood and pain shots, but it might have happened, and anyway it made for a much better story.
I’d just finished telling a second group of three soldiers from Mississippi all about Uncle Spencer, when I felt a sharp pain in the middle of my bare back. Dang, I jumped 3 feet straight up and hollered like I’d been knifed. I yelled and looked around to see that moron Homer Ray standing there laughing. That sorry kid had just thrown a handful of sticker burrs right in the middle of my bare back, and he drew back to chunk another handful, but, before he could hit me again, I took off like a scalded dog. John Clayton followed me and after we were far enough away from Homer Ray, he pulled the stickers’ out of my back.
“Dang, Richard, you’re gonna hafta do something about that sorry Homer Ray. He’s really got it in for you.”
“Yeah, but what? If I do anything he’ll just beat me to a pulp and stomp me in the ground. You know Daddy told me it was gonna be up to me to stop him, but I ain’t about to get whipped up on. Heck, let’s go home. I’m tired of hanging around here.”
We headed back to the road, but just before we left the camp Rosalie and her daddy walked by.
“Hi, Rosalie,” I whispered, halfway hoping she wouldn’t hear me, but she did.
“Oh, hi Richard, I didn’t see you. Isn’t this exciting?”
I smiled, walked over to where she was standing, and began to tell her about Uncle Spencer being shot by the Japs. Rosalie was really interested, and I was telling her every little detail. Actually, I was adding the stuff that I’d told the soldiers when her daddy told her they had to be going. Heck, he didn’t even act like I was there.
“I’ve got to go, Richard. Maybe we can talk later.”
“Yeah, Rosalie, let’s have a Coke-Cola at the Red Star sometime.”
“I’d like that, Richard.”
“Rosalie, I said we need to be going,” said her daddy. He gave me a frown, shaking his head, and I sure got the idea he didn’t want me to have nothing to do with Rosalie.
I got back home about 3 just in time to catch the end of an argument between my folks. I heard Daddy say, “I invited the colonel to supper, and you invited a private? And he’s a Yankee to boot!”
Shoot, they was really going at it.
About that time Momma hit Daddy with a zinger, “Jack, if that private is good enough to risk his life and maybe die to defend our country, then he’s certainly good enough to sit at my supper table!” Dang, Momma’s eyes were a-flashing, and Daddy knew if he mouthed off any more, it’d be in deep trouble.
“Okay, Sue, but I just hope the colonel is comfortable having supper with a private.” Daddy kinda smirked when he said that. Momma shot back.
“I don’t give a damn if he’s comfortable or not! That private is going to join us for supper!”
Whoa, that sure as heck ended the argument. Daddy was so surprised when Momma said “damn” that he just stood there like he’d been whacked alongside his head. ‘’Course, I was tickled to death to find out that not only were we having soldiers to supper, but we were having the commanding colonel. Momma stood there a minute or so, and I think she felt kinda guilty about cussing around me. Then she looked at Daddy and said, “Jack, I invited this private over because he seemed so lonely. Everyone else was inviting soldiers that were from the South. I know he’s different. After all, he’s from New York City, and lives in a section he called Little Italy.”
Momma couldn’t pronounce his name, but she said it sounded something like Vollara. Daddy said, “Why don’t we just call him Private?” But I could see Daddy’s smart mouthing didn’t go over to well with Momma.
“No, Jack, we won’t call him Private. We’ll call him by his first name, which is Anthony.” Momma whirled around and pointed her finger at Daddy—dang, her eyes were just
little mean-looking slits—and said, “And let me tell you one more thing! You’d better not spend the whole night talking to the colonel and ignoring Anthony!” Then Momma stalked out of the living room and slammed the kitchen door. Well, after the dishes stopped rattling in the cabinet, Daddy gave me one of them little forced smiles.
“Well, you heard your mother. Let’s make Private Anthony welcome, even if he is a Yankee.”
A Y
ankee, a Yankee, well, I guess I’ve never met a Yankee except maybe some of the soldiers I talked to today. Heck, a colonel and a Yankee. Boy this is gonna be some supper tonight.
For the rest of the afternoon I asked over and over, “When are the soldiers comin’?”
Finally, late in the afternoon, Momma said, “They’ll be here in 15 minutes.”
Heck, I was so excited that I jumped up from my chair, ran out to the front porch, and sat on the steps, looking down the road at the camp. It wasn’t but a few minutes until a Jeep pulled out of the camp, and sure enough it was the colonel. The Jeep drove right up to the sidewalk in front of our house, and the colonel called out to me; “Is this the Mason home?”
“Yes sir,” I said and I gave him my best salute. Heck, I’d practiced saluting hundreds of times. When we played war, everyone always saluted. He smiled and saluted me back. Wow, I was saluted by a real colonel. About that time Momma and Daddy walked out, and Daddy shook the colonel’s hand.
“Colonel, this is my wife, Sue, and I believe you’ve met my son, Richard.” I saluted and the colonel saluted me again. Wow, this was really getting exciting.
“Well, I’m looking forward to a good home-cooked meal. I’ll tell you that Army food can sure get old.”
“Well, it’s our pleasure to have you, colonel,” said Momma.
Everyone started into the house, and then I remembered we had another soldier coming so I stayed on the porch waiting for him. In a few minutes I saw a tall, thin soldier walk out of the camp, and start up the road toward our house. He had a little slip of paper in his hand, and he was looking at the mailboxes as he walked down the street. When he came to our mailbox, he looked up at me and said, “Does a Mrs. Sue Mason live here?”
“Yes sir. This is the right house. Come on in.” He started toward the door, and I could tell he was real nervous, because he stopped on the top step where I was holding the door open. Well, he finally did step into our living room and stopped just inside the door.
Momma walked up, smiled at him, and shook his hand. “Anthony, this is my husband, Jack, and you’ve already met Richard.” Daddy shook Private Anthony’s hand and then Momma said, “I believe you know the colonel, don’t you?”
My gosh, you’d have thought the colonel was a ghost the way he acted. ’Course, he came to attention and saluted, but then he didn’t say a thing for at least a minute. Then the colonel stood up, returned his salute, and walked over.
“At ease, Private. We haven’t met, but I’m proud to have you join us for supper.” Well, the private smiled a little small smile, and everyone started to talk about the War, and how hard it was to buy stuff. Heck, then the biggest surprise of the evening happened. Daddy walked over to the cabinet, and behind some books, he pulled out a bottle of Old Crow bourbon which he’d hidden from Momma. Wow, I held my breath, because if we hadn’t had company, I knew what would have happened next. Momma would have been all over Daddy for having whiskey in the house. Boy, I could tell she was surprised that Daddy had managed to sneak in a bottle and hide it from her, but before Momma could even say a word, Daddy said, “Colonel, would you care for a short drink before supper?”
“Well,” the colonel said, “I usually don’t, but since you offered, let’s drink a toast to the success our armies are having in the South Pacific.” Daddy looked at me and gave me a little smile, and I made a little slight snicker which got me a hard stare from Momma. Well, Momma might have bested him in the argument this afternoon, but now Daddy had turned the tables. He knew Momma wouldn’t dare cause a fuss with the colonel sitting there. Daddy poured three drinks, knowing Momma wasn’t about to have one. Shoot, Momma is one of them no-drinking or dancing Baptists, and she don’t just sneak around and drink like some of them. She won’t touch the stuff. After the drink of Old Crow disappeared, everyone sure seemed more relaxed, and Private Anthony, who had hardly said a word, had everybody’s attention as he talked about his family and New York City.
Boy, you could sure tell Anthony was a Yankee. When he asked for a glass of water Momma had to have him repeat it three times before she understood what he was saying. But the colonel, who was from Texas, sounded just about like we did. When he first arrived, he’d only talked about the maneuvers and the War effort, but after a drink of Old Crow, he started talking about his home back in Texas. I just sat and listened. As the evening wore on I could tell my daddy really liked Private Anthony, who we were now calling Tony. When Tony told us that he’d sung opera back in New York, we asked him to sing some of the opera songs. Everyone begged him until he agreed. Tony stood up and took a deep breath, and out of that skinny private came a deep, wonderful sound like nothing I’d ever heard. The words just seemed to flow out of his mouth, and he waved his hands as he sang, and when he finally finished with a mighty stomp, the dishes in the kitchen rattled, and we all jumped to our feet clapping.
“That’s from the opera, Figaro!”
Wow, he’s great, and he can even sing in a foreign language. “Tony, what language is that you’re singing?”
“It’s Italian, Richard. A lot of operas are written in Italian.”
I wondered if singing in Italian was a good idea, since we’d just finished whipping the sorry Italians, and that worthless Mussolini had been hated about as bad as Hitler, but no one seemed to mind. In fact, everyone insisted Tony sing another one of the opera songs. Tony went on and on, and after he finished a fifth song, Momma said supper was ready, and we all went to the table.
What an evening! Momma fried her special chicken, the best in town. First, she flours the chicken, puts it in cold grease, and then sets the gas burner on high to brown it. Everyone says it is the best fried chicken they’ve ever had. We also had boiled okra, fresh tomatoes, purple-hulled peas, and squash. Private Anthony, or Tony as we were now calling him, said he’d never eaten okra, black-eyed peas, or squash. I couldn’t believe it. I wondered what in the world do they eat in New York City? By the end of the evening everyone was on a first-name basis, and we’d made some great friends. As it started to get late Tony looked at his watch and said, “I’ve got to go. I’ll be AWOL if I’m not back by 10 o’clock.”
“Tony,” said the colonel, “you’re now assigned to me for the rest of the evening. Just relax. And say, Jack, do you think we might have a night-cap of that Old Crow before we go?”
Well, you don’t have to ask my daddy twice for a drink.
“Colonel, that’s a great idea!” Daddy said as he bounced to his feet.
Momma frowned, I made a little snicker and she gave me another one of them hard stares, but Daddy was just in hog heaven as he poured that second drink. Shoot, after the second drink the room filled with stories and laughter and Tony even sang a few more songs. We were all sitting in the living room laughing and talking, having the best time with two men we didn’t even know this morning, but who were now our new friends. Finally, sometime after 11 the colonel stood up, patted Tony on the back, and said they needed to get back to camp. As they were walking out the door Momma handed Tony a slip of paper.
“Tony, this is our address. Write us a letter when you get to the South Pacific, and let us know how you’re doing.”
Tony smiled and put the slip in his pocket.
“Oh sure, it won’t be long either. We’re shipping out real soon and most of us will be going as replacements to the 6th Army. They’ve had a lot of causalities, and they need extra men to clean up the Japs on an island called Luzon.”
The door shut behind them, and before Momma could turn around, Daddy had grabbed the bottle of Old Crow and was out the back door like a shot.
“Jack, if I find that bottle in this house, I’m going to break it over your head,” Momma yelled.
Daddy came back in after only a few minutes and said, “Sue, I threw it away. I know you don’t want it in the house.”
Heck, Daddy chunking away a half a bottle of Old Crow was so funny I laughed out loud, but Momma didn’t.
“You liar!”
Daddy smiled, and while Momma was trying to think of something to say, me and Daddy headed for our bedrooms.
The next week was just about the quietest of the summer. Me and John Clayton didn’t get into any trouble and Daddy hadn’t switched me in such a long time that I thought maybe I’d break my no switching record. Heck, after a week of not seeing or hearing nothing ’bout them escaped prisoners, everybody in town had kinda forgotten about them, figuring they were long gone by now.
That next Monday, I had a real upsetting thing happen to me. I walked back in the house from town after a trip to the grocery store to find Momma very sad. She looked as if she’d been crying, and my momma just never cries. ’Course, I was upset just looking at her.
“Momma, what’s wrong?”
“Richard, I can’t talk about it. Wait till your daddy gets home, then I’ll tell you.”
Well, I sat around for several hours waiting for Daddy wondering what on earth Momma was so upset about. She told me that Uncle J. R. and Uncle Spencer were okay, so I couldn’t imagine why she was so upset. Finally, Daddy came home from work about 3:30, and as soon as he walked in, Momma walked over and handed him a letter. I could see another letter was attached to that letter. Daddy read the first letter and then after her read the attached letter I could see he was becoming very upset and he turned his back to me before tears ran down his cheek.
Momma started to cry out loud, and I just stood there not knowing why my momma and daddy were so upset. Finally, she looked at Daddy and said, “We have to tell Richard.” She took the letter from Daddy and said, “This letter is from Tony. Do you remember the young private that had dinner with us a few weeks ago?”
“Yes, of course I remember Tony.” I’d imagined that by now he’d killed hundreds of Japs.
“Sit down, Richard, and let me read you this letter.” Momma wiped her eyes and started reading very slowly, trying not to cry
“Dear Jack, Sue and Richard:
I would like to thank you so much for having me to dinner when I was in Arkansas a week ago. It was one of the best dinners I have ever had, and I enjoyed talking with you so much. You seemed much like my family, even though you were so different. We just landed on Luzon, and we are moving up to the front tomorrow to take part in a drive to capture Aparrie, which should finish off the Japs on Luzon. I will finish this letter later.”
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 44