Strike Force Red

by C T Glatte

  A month after they landed, all descriptions and indeed, most contact was cutoff from Europe, but stories still filtered back. Refugees would show up on the shores of the free world and tell harrowing stories of atrocities and mass killings. The good news was, Hitler was no longer in power, but he’d been replaced with something far more sinister.

  The next day Jimmy woke up tired. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, only falling asleep an hour before his alarm clock rang. The mood in the house was dark despite the late spring sunshine. Jimmy had heard muted voices coming from his parent’s room down the hall. The murmurs stopped around 1 A.M. He assumed his father had filled her in on the two men in the family being called to duty.

  Now he sat at the dining table moving an overdone poached egg from one side of the plate to the other. His mother clanged pots and pans as she scrubbed already clean dishes. His father sat across the table reading the paper. Jimmy could see the headline: ‘Russia Invades,’ in huge black, bold print. Jimmy asked, “What’re we supposed to do now?”

  His father looked over the top of the paper. He looked over the top of his reading glasses which looked like they were barely hanging onto the very tip of his nose. “Eat your breakfast for starters.”

  Jimmy cut the hard yellow center in half but didn’t put it in his mouth. “I mean, am I supposed to go to school? Are you going to the office? Do we wait for a letter or what?”

  Rex put the newspaper back in order, folding it into smaller and smaller portions, finally setting it beside his glass of orange juice. “There’s nothing in the paper about that. In fact, I was wondering the same thing.” He glanced over his shoulder at his wife. He thought better of asking her. He shrugged. “Go to school. We’ll see what happens but I’ll bet we’ll get a summons in the mail in the next day or two.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Gonna be hard to go about my day like nothing’s happened.” He pushed the plate away and stood. “I may as well go to the recruiters office and enlist. I mean might as well get it out of the way.”

  His mother lurched over the sink, unable to keep from sobbing. Rex glared at his son. “Look what you’ve done. Upset your mother.” He smoothed his greased hair. “Don’t do anything rash. Who knows, maybe it was all a false alarm.” Jimmy shrugged and turned and grabbed his school books. He looked them over and scowled. Why should I torture myself with more schoolwork? His father noticed the look. “Go to school, Jimmy. Understand? Don’t do anything until you have to. Hell, I’m in the same boat you are. I’m going to work, gonna act like nothing out of the ordinary’s happening at all.”

  Jimmy’s mother spun around to face him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot like she’d been crying all night. Fresh tracks covered her cheeks. “Don’t enlist, Jimmy. Don’t do it, you’ll break my heart.”

  Rex went to her and put his arms around her. She only came up to his chest. “Now, now Miriam. He won’t do anything brash.” He gave his son a hard look.

  Jimmy felt better as soon as he left the house. Normally, the rich smells of bacon, eggs and toast made mornings his favorite time of day. Today though, he couldn’t wait to escape. The air felt tense and thick, almost suffocating him. His mother’s eyes had scared him. He’d never seen her look that way.

  He was thinking about his mother when he came to the corner of Abbot and Grape streets. Normally he met his best friend Hank Gugliani here. He looked at his watch. He was right on time. Usually, his friend was waiting for him but after a scan up and down the block he was no where in sight. Jimmy suddenly wanted nothing more than to talk with his friend; to get his take on the whole thing. He always thought things through, coming up with a good game-plan, no matter the situation. It was what made him such a good catcher

  He glanced up and down the street, seeing some kids heading to school, but not many. He trotted along the sidewalk and turned into the Gugliani’s walkway. He opened the white picket fence gate that used to seem so big to him but now barely reached his waist. He shut it behind him, a habit drilled into him by Mrs. Gugliani to keep their small dog from escaping.

  He went to the front door and was about to knock when he heard yelling coming from inside. It wasn’t unusual for the fiery Italian family to be talking in loud, animated voices, but this was something different. This made him pause. There was real anger in the voices.

  He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, so he leaned into the door. Just then, the door jerked open and Hank ran smack into him. Jimmy fell backwards with Hank on top. Jimmy hit hard and lost the wind from his lungs. As Hank scrambled off him, he continued down the porch stairs as if nothing had happened. Mr. and Mrs. Gugliani were both in the doorway, yelling after their son, who ignored them and kept moving. Jimmy could see Hank’s twin sisters looking out from behind their parents. They noticed him gasping on the porch and their eyes lit up and they waved. “Hi Jimmy,” they chimed in unison.

  Jimmy tried to speak but he still hadn’t recovered. Mr. Gugliani noticed him next and pleaded with him as if he were standing in front of him. “You have to talk some sense into that boy, Jimmy. He’s going to enlist.”

  Jimmy went up on an elbow and looked after his friend who’d made it to the street and turned back to face the house. In his Italian lilt he exclaimed, “Come on Jimmy, quit screwing around.”

  Jimmy lurched to his feet and gave the family he knew almost better than his own, a smile. “I’ll talk to him.”

  Mr. Gugliani slapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off the porch. “Good boy. At least you’ve got some sense.” He yelled the last word so Hank would be sure to hear. Hank waved his hand like he were shooing a fly.

  Jimmy ran down the steps and joined his friend on the street. He looked back at the family, now engaged in heated discussion on the porch. He waved, but they didn’t notice. He slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “That was kinda crazy.”

  Hank smiled his lopsided smile. “Ah, they don’t get it. I mean our country’s been attacked. I have to enlist.” They walked a few more paces and he continued. “You’re gonna enlist, right?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I mentioned it to my parents but they weren’t too keen either. My mom was blubbering, begging me not to. What the hell’m I supposed to do? It would break her heart; she said as much.”

  Hank shook his head, “they’ll get over it. I mean you heard the radio. We’re gonna end up there anyway.”

  “That’s what I told them, but they think I should wait.” They walked a few paces. “You know my dad’s not over forty.”

  Hank snapped his eyes up, “You mean your pop’s getting called up too?”

  Jimmy shrugged, “If they meant what they said about seventeen to forty.”

  Hank shook his head, “holy shit. Now I get why your mom was so upset … I mean beyond you having to go.”

  When they got to the end of the next block, Jimmy started to cross the street toward school and Hank slapped his arm, “Where you going?”

  Jimmy looked confused, “What you mean? School.”

  Hank shook his head, “Nah, I’m done with school.” He dropped his books on the sidewalk and pointed toward town. There was a line of men and boys stretching around the corner ending at the recruitment center.

  Jimmy’s mouth dropped open, “Holy shit. That’s where everyone is.”

  “Yep and that’s where I’m headed.”

  Jimmy hesitated for an instant, thinking of his mother’s sad, worn out eyes. He dropped his books beside Hanks and followed his friend.

  The line was like a party. It was mostly full of young men, but with a smattering of older folks too. Jimmy couldn’t imagine his father standing in this line. He’d probably find some way to meet personally with the recruiters, maybe over dinner. He’d never demean himself to stand in a line of normal folks.

  Tom Haskins, the team’s first baseman was in front of them. After hand shaking and back slaps, Jimmy asked, “Are you seventeen?”

  Tom nodded. “Had my birthday last week. Timing couldn�
�t be better if you ask me.”

  The line moved slowly. Jimmy asked them, “What branch you gonna join?”

  Hank’s mouth turned down as he considered. “I haven’t thought about that. Isn’t the Army the only choice?”

  Jimmy shrugged, “Normally you can choose, but maybe it’s different with the invasion.”

  Tom nodded, “It might be, but my dad was … er’ is, a Marine. He’d skin me if I joined the Army.” Tom’s eyes narrowed and he pointed toward the end of the line. “What’re they doing here?” Jimmy and Hank turned. Queuing up were the only five black men in town. Tom scowled, “they won’t let them in will they?”

  Jimmy shrugged, “why not? It’s their country too. Besides I didn’t hear the radio say whites only.”

  Tom shook his head, “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna serve beside one of them. I’ll … “

  Hank cut him off, “You’ll what? You got a problem with Italians joining too?” He squared his broad shoulders to Tom.

  Tom looked confused and stuttered, “Of course not, but that’s different. They’re … “

  “People.” Hank finished for him. Tom glared at him and turned away, muttering under his breath.

  As they neared the recruiting office there was a Marine barking into a loudspeaker. “Form two lines from this point forward.” He pointed to his right, “Marine wannabes in this line, Army pukes in this line.”

  When they got to the split, Tom immediately shuffled past the Marine and stepped right. The Marine grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back into the main line. “You’re going Army, son.”

  Tom shrugged from his grip and made the move back into the much shorter Marine line. “No way. My Dad’s a Marine.”

  The broad-shouldered Marine grinned, “Legacy eh? Well Semper Fi, son.” Jimmy and Hank looked at one another and shrugged. They moved to the right but the Marine put his big hand on Hank’s chest and shook his head, “Army, both of you.”

  Hank started to protest but Jimmy said, “Come on, Hank. We’re gonna fight either way.” He leaned in close to Hank’s ear and whispered, “I’m not into all that hoorah bullshit anyway.”

  Hank nodded but asked the Marine, “What about the navy? I don’t see a line for them.”

  The Marine grinned, “They’re up in Cranston if you wanna join those pussies.” Hank and Jimmy exchanged glances. “If you wanna have it easy shuttling warriors to and from battles, be my guest. If you wanna fight those damned Russkies and Scalps, stay here.”

  “Are there Scalps in Alaska?” Jimmy asked.

  The Marine shrugged, “Heard some reports but who knows if they’re accurate. Now quit your yapping and move into line.” He put the bullhorn back to his mouth and repeated his announcement.

  As they neared the office, they could see men and boys coming out a side door holding papers. Most looked chuffed with their new path, others, the older ones, somber.

  An hour later they were officially enlisted in the United States Army with orders to head to the high school gym for a physical.

  Four

  A month later Jimmy and Hank were halfway through bootcamp. They’d taken a train north, toward Portland, but veered west and trained in a camp outside Seaside. The camp was brand new. It sprawled for thousands of acres along the coastline, covering sand dunes, marsh, rivers and heavily forested mountains. All of which they’d become intimately acquainted with.

  Despite being athletes, the training was hard for them. The long hikes with full packs and weapons, the endless calisthenics and the lack of sleep had broken them down. Midway through the first month, neither of them thought they’d be able to finish the rigorous training, but they stuck with it, kept pulling themselves through each trial, day after day, until they finally felt their bodies adjust and thrive.

  Jimmy sat on the edge of his bunk marveling at the changes he felt in his body. His hands were calloused and rough. He felt strong and hard. The entire cadre of recruits felt ready to take on any challenge the drill sergeants could come up with.

  The start of the second month they spent more time on the firing range using various weapons. Jimmy found he was a natural with the M1 Garand. He qualified expert and was given a recruit corporal bar. He knew not to get attached to the dubious rank, the first fuck-up would result in him being stripped. Indeed, the rank only made him an easier target for the drill sergeants anger.

  Hank was in his unit. He excelled on the range too, but his real talent showed in hand-to-hand combat training. He didn’t have any prior experience, but he took to the Judo-like moves like a fish to water. The drill sergeants immediately saw his potential and they worked with him, showing him moves beyond what they showed the other recruits. Sergeant Campbell showed particular interest since hand-to-hand combat was his forte. Jimmy even saw the burly sergeant smile once or twice which he wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

  By the end of the second month they felt like soldiers. There was a constant stream of men coming and going through camp. New recruits were obvious, stumbling around with their shiny shaved heads and eyes like saucers. Drill sergeants barking like deranged devil dogs all around them. They’d looked similar, but now were lean and mean. When they marched past in their crisp lines, stepping in perfect unison, even the drill sergeants smiled.

  At 0300 one foggy morning, Sergeant Campbell stormed into their barracks and flipped on the lights. “Up, up, up, you shitbags!” Jimmy reacted instantly, swinging his feet over onto the floor and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They hadn’t been messed with for nearly a week and he was getting used to the extra sleep.

  Sergeant Campbell stomped to him and with his beefy fists on his hips, and barked, “Get these men ready to march Corporal. Full packs and weapons. On the parade ground in seven minutes.” He spun on his heel like he were pegged to the floor, then marched out the door, slamming it shut with a loud crack.

  Jimmy looked across the aisle to Hank and shook his head, “What now?” Hank shrugged. Jimmy used his newly found command voice, “Ok guys, you heard the man, let’s get it done.”

  Six minutes later they were in ranks outside the barracks. the lights barely penetrated the thick layer of fog that wafted past, covering everything with a thin layer of moisture. The drill sergeants stormed toward them and started moving through the lines. Sergeant Campbell shouted, “We have a little hike for you boys this fine morning. Twenty miles, bivouac then twenty home.” There was a slight groan as the men took it in. Campbell grinned. “Enjoy the scenery men, gonna be a glorious day.”

  They marched on the dirt road that meandered through the thickly forested coastal hills until daybreak. Jimmy thought they were making good time and figured they’d be twenty miles down the line before lunch. They were led by Sergeant Campbell and Sergeant Higgins. Both wore light packs and each had a sidearm. They marched beside them, sometimes moving around the group watching for any weakness.

  The sun was up, but was still hidden behind the thick fog so common on the Oregon coast in summer. They came to a bridge and when they were halfway across the drill sergeants halted them. Sergeant Campbell barked, “This is where the road ends and the fun begins.” He pointed at the creek. “The reds and Scalps have an ambush ahead, and the road’s mined. We need to get around those sumbitches and that’s the only way.” Jimmy was warm, but knew that was about to change. The creek looked to be waist deep and like most coastal streams ran clear and cold. When the men didn’t immediately react, Sergeant Campbell nearly blew out his vocal chords, “Dismount this bridge! Now!’

  Jimmy moved forward, but Sergeant Higgins pushed him back. “No time, reds are coming.” He pointed at the railing. “Over the side.”

  The men unslung their weapons and surged toward the railing, swung their legs over and hesitated. The drop was ten-feet to the water and another three feet to the sandy bottom. Hank was the first to go. With a last look at Jimmy, he cursed, “Shit,” and dropped. He held his weapon close to his chest and plunged into the
icy water. His legs crumpled under the fifty pounds of gear and he went under. He quickly surfaced, sputtering and cursing, then lunged forward against the gentle flow. More men followed until the bridge was empty.

  Jimmy’d fared better, not submerging, but everyone was soaked. To their credit, the drill sergeants plunged in too, but they landed solidly and only wetted to their navels. Sergeant Campbell grinned, “Ah, refreshing, eh Corporal?”

  Jimmy yelled, “Yes Drill Sergeant!” Which was the only proper response.

  “Take us upstream until you see a good way to get over this mountain and around them nasty buggers.”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” Jimmy surged to the head of the line. Moving through the water was like moving through syrup. He felt his legs burn as he struggled to find good footing to propel himself. The men behind had it easier as the flow was disrupted. His fear of being cold quickly disappeared as his breathing became labored and he actually felt himself sweating beneath his steel pot.

  Finally, after what he figure was a quarter mile, he spotted a smaller side-creek coming in from the left side. It cut through the mountain they needed to get around. He waded ashore and stopped. The others stacked up behind him. “What’re you waiting for, Corporal, Christmas?”

  Jimmy lurched forward, feeling the coolness of the air seeping into his bones. The creek was full of slippery, moss covered boulders. He nearly twisted his ankle before he decided it would be best to get up and out of the creek itself. He heard men cursing as they slipped and fell, some needing assistance to get off their backs. He looked at Hank, who grinned and gave him a thumb’s up.

  After a few twists and turns the creek took a decidedly easterly route, away from where they wanted to go. Jimmy looked at the sloping hill to his left and decided it was time to get out of the creekbed and head back toward the main road. He gave a cursory glance back at the drill sergeants, but they were mixed into the cadre and weren’t giving advice.