“What’s did she say Joe Rel?”
“Richard, she was a-prophysin’, and Brother Fortay, well he’s gonna interpret what she said.”
Brother Fortay jumped to his feet and let out a string of hallelujahs, and in a deep booming voice started talking about sin and folks not living right and ended with a big amen.
“What did he say?” asked John Clayton.
”I couldn’t understand all of it,” Joe Rel said, “cause everybody started yellin’ after he said, something ’bout, “‘all y’all sinners is gonna go straight to hell.’”
Well, Brother Fortay got people so worked up that everybody in the whole church was standing, clapping, swaying, and the music leader was running back and forth across the front of the church singing like nothing I’ve ever heard, while the choir was swooping up with their hands.
About that time, me and John Clayton started getting a little uneasy. We were just standing there with our mouths open, and I looked for the door, but before I could move Joe Rel leaned over and whispered, “The singin’ ’bout over. Things’ll calm down now. Y’all just relax.”
Heck, I wasn’t too sure about that. Then, while everybody was still standing from the last song Brother Dover hollered out, “Everybody pray!” and they really did; everybody at once, and real loud. Shoot, they musta thought God was deaf. I didn’t understand nothing, and Joe Rel told me later they were praying in tongues, which only the Holy Spirit and Brother Fortay understands.
But we finally sat down and Brother Dover opened the Bible and started reading the story about the prodigal son, which we all knew, but I’d never heard it like Brother Dover told it. Boy, it was a lot more exciting as Brother Dover told about all the girls over in Egypt that the prodigal son was living it up with. And when the story ended with a big coming home party for the prodigal son the whole church burst into clapping, hallelujahs, and amen’s, as Brother Dover said (in the loudest booming voice you’ve ever heard in your whole entire life), “Brothers and Sisters, the Lord is ready to throw a party for y’all, just come on home!” Heck, this was turning out to be the best church service I’d ever been to, but, it wasn’t over yet.
Then Brother Dover started the invitation. ’Course, being a Baptist, I knew all about invitations, because our church has one every time we meet just in case somebody wanted to get saved and join the Church. This invitation started just like our invitation always did. The song leader had the choir start the singing, and then he asked the rest of us to join in while Brother Dover walked back and forth down at the front of the church with his arms held out saying, “Who’ll come? The Lord is callin’ y’all,” and on and on. I thought the service was about over and just like most preachers I figured he’d say he was gonna sing one more verse, and if nobody came he was gonna close the invitation, and I think he was until Joe Rel’s Aunt Rose came down the aisle wailing and crying like nothing I’ve ever seen.
“I come to testify, Brother Dover!”
“Speak to us, Sister!”
Well, she sure did speak, but according to Joe Rel, it was in tongues, so we didn’t understand any of what she was saying until Brother Fortay jumped up and in a voice that boomed through the church said, “Sister Rose says you gotta confess your sins, or the Spirit ain’t gonna come on us.” There was a big moan from everybody and some folks started wailing like they was dying and then, oh my gosh, there was a loud commotion toward the back of the church.
A big man in the back of the church had just burst out hollering and crying, and then he walked up to the front of the church sobbing like a baby. He stood there a minute and then he said, “Y’all forgive me for what I done done.”
I looked at Joe Rel, and he shook his head and whispered in my ear, “Richard, you don’t wanta know.”
“Huh?” But before Joe Rel could say anything else Brother Dover let loose with a huge hallelujah and the choir roared into action as Brother Dover jumped off the platform and hit the floor running down the aisle. He was grabbing people and shaking them asking them if they knew Jesus, which of course everybody did, but that didn’t slow Brother Dover down one little bit. The choir was swaying, raising their hands, and Brother Dover was grabbing people and shaking ’em. The congregation was also singing and shouting, and folks were so caught up in the spirit that they started dropping like flies, falling out in the aisle or across a pew. Me and John Clayton was frozen in place, standing there just barely breathing. Yeah, I was praying, but it was to just get outta there.
Then it happened, and I’ll swear on a thousand Bibles I ain’t never seen nothing like it in all my born days. John Clayton was on the aisle, and suddenly, Brother Dover, who was making his fifth or sixth trip up and down the aisle, fixed his eyes on John Clayton. He walked real slowly toward him as everybody in the church just got so quiet you could hear people breathing, and I’ll tell you the truth, I tried to slip down under the seat and just freeze, but I couldn’t get there. I could hear the old wooden floor creak as Brother Dover came down the aisle with his eyes fixed on John Clayton. With one hand stretched out in front of him, nodding his head like “Yes.”
John Clayton looked at Brother Dover and although he tried to look away, he couldn’t. He looked like a rabbit caught in headlights, as he tried to squeeze back into the pew a little farther, but the pew was full and there was no place to go. Now, Brother Dover was right beside John Clayton, and as he stretched his hand toward him he shouted in a booming voice; “Holy Spirit, come on down on this here white boy!” And he touched John Clayton’s forehead with one finger.
John Clayton just made a little wheeze and flipped back like he’d been hit with a sledge hammer, and I screamed, “Ahaaaaa, John Clayton!” I stood there holding him up, just sure he’d been scared to death. Brother Dover went back to the front and asked the song leader to sing a song of celebration, and when the choir hit the first note, the church just went plain outta control. People started running up and down the aisles, and some of ’em would stop and hug John Clayton, who had woke up from whatever had knocked him out. Shoot, that went on for another 20 minutes, until everybody was just worn out.
We were both white as sheets as the service finally wound down, and after Joe Rel’s daddy prayed one of his 15-minute prayers, the service was over. We walked to the back of the church where Brother Dover was shaking hands with everybody as they left the church. When he saw us coming toward him, he ran up to meet us and hugged us both real good.
“Boys, this is just the first night of the revival. Y’all needs to come on back every night. We gonna be meeting all week, and later in the week things really gets goin’.”
Boy, I thought, If this is just the quiet first night, I don’t wanta be here the last night.
“Uh, well, sir, we enjoyed the service. Thank you so much.”
John Clayton, who was still a little woozy from the Holy Spirit coming on him, mumbled something and we walked on out of the church.
“I told y’all our church was a bunch more excitin’ than yours,” said Joe Rel.
“Yeah, you’re right about that. I thought all that excitement had just about killed John Clayton.”
“Shoot, Richard,” said John Clayton, “I just got a little light-headed, and just before the preacher touched me, I stopped breathin’ and when his finger hit my head, I couldn’t see a thing.”
“Listen y’all,” said Billy Ray, “he was just slain in the Spirit. It happens all the time. Ain’t a service goes by without somebody being slain in the Spirit.”
Me and John Clayton walked on back toward my house talking about the revival service. Shoot, it had lasted almost three hours and with all the singing, folks being slain in the Spirit, and the speaking in tongues, we felt like we’d had enough church to last for the rest of the summer. Heck, I didn’t know church could be so exciting.
Well, we didn’t go back to any more services, but Joe Rel told us that the last two nights beat anything he’d ever seen. When he said that, I looked at John Clayton wh
o was already shaking his head like, “there ain’t no way.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Scrap Iron Drive
That next day, after I hauled the danged food down to the swamp, I headed back down town. Well, I had decided that there wasn’t nothing I could do about Sniffer, and I wasn’t gonna tell anybody about them sorry criminals dognapping Sniffer, if I had to carry them food forever. Well, since I was just going to hafta work like some sorry yard dog every morning at least I could try and do some fun stuff the rest of the time, so me and John Clayton set on the breadbox and talked about Tony being killed, and then whether to play War games again. Finally, we quit talking about War games and started talking about the real War.
“Dang it, Richard, I’m tired of just playing these stupid War games. Every time I turn on the radio, somebody is talking about doing something to help us win the War, and we’re not doing a durn thing.”
“I know it, but what can we do? We’re just 13-year-old kids.”
Well, we sat there and talked for about an hour, and then I walked back home just in time for supper. That night me and Daddy was sitting at the kitchen table listening to the radio waiting for Walter Winchell to come on. Since D-Day we hadn’t missed a one of his newscasts. A few minutes before Walter Winchell came on the air, a radio announcer talked about how to help with the War effort. This was just what me and John Clayton had been talking about, and I couldn’t wait to ask Daddy. Heck, when Walter Winchell came on he had some really bad news.
“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. North and South America and all the ships at sea—this just in: Allied naval forces off Singapore were attacked by Jap kamikaze planes—heavy American casualties reported—attack was repulsed with heavy Jap losses…”
We finished listening to the broadcast, and I asked Daddy again about what me and John Clayton could do to help our soldiers win the war.
“Son, tomorrow, go down to the newsstand, and pick up the Citizens Service Corps list put out by the government. I'm sure there is something on that list you boys can do.”
Well, we went by the newsstand the next morning, picked up one of the Citizens Service Corp lists, and walked over to the breadbox.
“My gosh, John Clayton, look at this picture!”
On the front of the paper we picked up was a picture of an American soldier lying face down with bullet holes in his helmet.
“Read what it says right under the picture, Richard.”
“Okay, it says: ‘What did you do today for freedom? Today at the front, he died: Today what did you do? Next time you see a list of the dead and wounded, ask yourself: What have I done today for freedom? What can I do tomorrow that will save the lives of men like this and help them win the war?’”
“Oh my gosh, Richard, just think, we ain’t done nothin’! Not one danged little thing! Surely we can find something on this list!”
We sat down and started going over the list. “Dang, Richard, there's just stuff for grown- ups to do. There’s nothin’ we could possibly do.”
That afternoon I was waiting on the front porch steps when Daddy came in from work, and I was just about to ask him about the list from the Citizens Service Corp, but before I could say anything, he waved a flyer at me.
“Look at this, Richard. They're passing out these all over town. If you boys really want to do something to help win the War and maybe make some money, here's how you can help.”
Daddy held up the flyer for me to see.
“Wow!” In big letters it said:
Government Scrap Iron Drive starts Saturday
Five-member teams
A $100 War Bond will go to winners in junior and senior division
“That’s perfect! Me and John Clayton know where to find tons and tons of scrap iron. I've got to find John Clayton and start gettin’ a team together!”
I ran down the road toward downtown to find John Clayton, and sure enough he was sitting on the breadbox reading a funny book when I ran up.
“Hey, John Clayton have you seen this? It’s something we can do to help win the War. There’s gonna be a big scrap iron drive contest right here in Norphlet, and a $100 War Bond will go to the winning teams.”
“Gimme that paper! Let me read it!” John Clayton grabbed the flyer and began to read. “Hummm, well I’ll be. Shoot, let’s get a team together. We know where more scrap iron is than anybody!”
“Okay Richard, you run down to Ears’s house and I’ll go see Tiny, Donnie, and Chuck and see if I can get them to join. I'll meet you downtown right after supper.”
“Great!” I took off running toward Ears’s house.
“Ears! Ears!” I yelled from the front yard.
“Richard?”
“Come here!”
“Can’t! I’m in the back yard and I can’t leave till I finish shellin’ these dang peas.” I walked around the corner of Ears’s house and sure enough there he was shelling peas out of a big bushel basket into an old beat-up dishpan.
“Ears, look at this! The government is havin’ a huge scrap iron drive to help win the War, and they’re gonna give away a $100 War Bond to the winnin’ teams. We need to have five boys to enter. Do you wanta be on our team?”
“A $100 and all we have to do is pick up junk? Well, shoot yes, Richard. When do we start?”
“We can’t start until tomorrow when we turn in our team. Listen, Ears, when you finish supper tonight, head downtown. John Clayton will be at the breadbox waiting for us with the rest of the team. After supper I trotted back downtown to the breadbox, and there was John Clayton, Ears and Chuck.
“Where’s Tiny and Donnie?”
"Richard, you ain’t gonna believe this. They’d already joined another team before I could talk to them. I asked Ronnie, Jimmy and a whole bunch more kids, but every one of ’em had already joined someone’s team.
“What! We’ve got to have five team members or we can’t join the drive.”
“Well, we still have until tomorrow at noon. Surely we can find somebody,” said Ears.
But, no, we asked even little kids, but everyone in town was already on somebody’s team. Boy, we were getting worried.
The next day we were part of a big crowd that had gathered downtown waiting for the government men to arrive. It was almost 10 o’clock when a Jeep, followed by a large flatbed truck, pulled up to a vacant lot on Main Street. A sergeant and two other soldiers got out of the Jeep and put up a big banner at the gate to a fenced-in lot that said, Join the Scrap Iron Drive and Help Win the War. At 10 o’clock the sergeant climbed up on the back of his Jeep, and called for the crowd to come over to where he was standing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls: May I have everyone’s attention please? I am Sergeant William Lee Jones attached to the Military Reclamation Service.”
We all listened while he described the scrap iron drive and we just went wild screaming and yelling when he yelled out, “This is something you can do to help win the War!” . Then right before he finished talking he said, “Turn in your team by 12 o’clock or you can’t be part of the contest. Remember, if you want to help our boys whip them Japs and roll into Tokyo, get out there and bring in every piece of scrap iron you can find!”
Everybody yelled and clapped. There was so much excitement in the air that we couldn’t stand still.
“John Clayton, Ears, Chuck, hurry! We’ve got to find another team member!” I’m not kidding, we were in a panic and we all ran around grabbing kids and asking them until I was about to give up. Nothing, we couldn’t get a durn soul. An hour and a half passed, and our team still had only four members. Everybody we asked was already on someone else’s team. We had only 15 minutes left, and we were just about to give up.
“Dang Richard,” said John Clayton, “they ain’t enough kids in Norphlet! We’ve asked everybody!”
The four of us were standing there just about to give up when Connie came up. We all knew Connie. I’d beaten her in the Start of the Summer Race, but she’d called me a chea
ter, so I hadn’t been declared the sixth-grade class winner. I really didn’t like her, especially after she kept trying to get me to race her. Heck, I figured I could beat her, but you know, what if I did get a bad start or I tripped over something. Beat by a girl, I dang sure didn’t want none of that.
Connie looked at us for a minute, smiled and said, “Looks like you boys don’t have enough for a team. Why don’t you let me join?”
We laughed, and I shook my head. “Connie, girls can’t pick up scrap iron. That’s a boy’s job.”
“Oh, really, are you saying I can’t pick up as much as you can?”
“Uh, well…” Shoot, I wasn’t about to say “yeah” because that dang girl would do something to show out, and we’d look like idiots. We stood there like a bunch of dummies not knowing what to say.
“Well, you smart mouth boys have 15 minutes to make up your feeble minds. Either I’m a member of your team, or you ain’t gonna be a part of the scrap iron drive.”
We looked at each other and then I said, “Uh, let’s talk about this.” We walked over and started whispering.
“Did you hear what she called us?” Ears said. “That girl is nothing but trouble.”
“I don’t want her on our team,” said John Clayton. “Every kid in town will be laughing at us, and on top of that she’s mean as a sack of snakes.”
Then Chuck spoke up. “Look, I don’t want her either, but she’s right. We’re not even gonna be part of the scrap iron drive if we don’t let her join.” We all grumbled for a few more minutes, but we really wanted to be a part of the scrap iron drive, and I guess we’d have done might near anything. Heck, we decided just to let her join and ignore her. We walked back over to Connie and I said, “Connie, you can be on the team, but don’t whine if you get tired or too hot.”
Connie laughed and said, “You’re gonna be the ones whinin’. Wait and see.”
Ears was standing behind her and he stuck out his tongue. We laughed and Connie wheeled around and caught Ears with his mouth about half opened.
Lyin' Like a Dog, The Yankee Doctor, The Danged Swamp! 3-Volume set Page 46