Mon, 14 Apr 2008 12:00:00
Notes for my wife, part 4: The Captain Jim Adventures Part 3
Part 1 (plus what this is about) here. Part two can be found here. Part 3 of the series is here. What follows is the longest, most recent, and last one for now
Captain Jim knew this was going to be close. Three German stormtroopers were patrolling the road ahead, and earlier that morning he spotted a sniper in the grain silo and another in a tree on the other side of the field. He knew there must be more, as snipers always worked with spotters. So that meant at least seven Nazis, and he only had his trusty 1911 and one extra magazine. “Sixteen bullets,” he thought, “and no gun for Private Numbnuts.”
He was, of course, referring to the shivering, cowering mess next to him in the ditch. Private William S. Wilkes, originally from North Forks, Iowa, but more recently rescued from a German detention center in town. In the mad scramble out of the jail, Private Wilkes dropped the gun Jim brought for him, and so they sit, sisteen rounds and a possible firefight between them and freedom.
“Wilkes” Jim barked, “Stop whimpering. Do you want to die here today, 4000 miles from home and crying like a dame on a bad date?”
“N-n-no s-s-s-sir” Wilkes sniffled. “I sure don’t. I wanna go home and have my mom wash my socks and eat pie and see my girl Daisy and I...”
“Shut the hell up, Private” Captain Jim growled. “They’ll hear you.” He lowered his voice to an intense whisper, grabbed Wilkes by the shirt and pulled him in close. “Now listen up. This is the plan: we sneak a hundred yards down this ditch to that drain pipe. We shimmy through to the other side and wait for that fat one to cross. See, I’ve been watching. Every time the other two pass him, they never look back. He’s all alone. The two snipers are pointed east, looking for Allied company movement. If we’re fast, and damn lucky, we can grab that fat one, pull him into this ditch and silience him for good before anyone notices. Then we pop up, I shoot the other two and you run like hell. You run west, toward the river, and you don’t stop for anything. You hear me, Wilkes? You run like the devil himself is chasing you. You run like your girl Daisy is waiting at that river bank with a slice of your mom’s best apple pie and a fresh pair of socks just off the line on a warm summer’s day. You run, you hear me? You run and you keep running and you don’t look back.”
Wilkes swallowed hard, and some color came back to his very young face. “But sir, what about you? Why didn’t you say you;d be right behin...”
“No time for that, soldier! You worry about getting yourself to that river. I have another job to do.” Jim looked longingly off into the distance. “Those god-damned weights aren’t going to lift themselves. They never do. War is hell, boy, I think General Patton said that. What he didn’t say is that so is going to the gym, and that’s where I have to go. The god-damned gym. I know what will be waiting for me there. German-made machines designed to torture and break down my body. I have to go anyway, kid. It’s my job. It’s what I do.”
“B-b-but sir” Wilkes stammered.
“No buts, kid! You get out of here because you want to live. You get out because you want to see your mother and your best girl and Iowa again. Most of all, kid, you get the hell out of here because I gave you an order, and you are damned well gonna follow it or I’ll shoot you myself.” Jim looked deep into the young privates eyes, eyes that were now alive with an energy the boy did not have just a moment ago.
“Wait, sir!” Wilkes said. “Is there any way I can...I mean I know I’m lousy in a fight sir, but if I could help you, I really wanna try. I feel like this war just got on top of me after what the Germans did to me in that jail, but being here, with you, listening to you talk about it, sir, I think I can do this. I wanna help!”
Captain Jim looked at the boy, his uniform torn and bloody, his face covered in dirt and bruises from the beatings the Germans gave him, and Jim smiled. He felt a little proud at that moment, like maybe some of his backbone had found its way into the boy. “You just get the hell out of here, son. You get out and you get back with Charlie Company and you tell them Captain Jim Kenefick sent you, and you tell them I said to give you a job. You tell them I said you are going to be one hell of a soldier someday. And see if you can’t get a message back home for me. Would you do that? Would you send a message back home to my best girl?
“Of course, sir. Anything. You just name it.”
“You get word to my girl Donna. Tell her I went to that damned gym, and that I left around 4:30. You tell her I’m coming back, and that I love her.” Jim choked back the lump in his throat. “You do that for me, kid, and we’ll call it even for getting you out of that stinking German jail. Deal?” Captain Jim stuck out his hand toward the young private.
“Deal, sir. I’ll be honored to pass along your message. But sir? Please, please be careful. Don’t make a liar out of me. make sure you do come back for her, and when we both get back home, we’ll get together and have some of my mom’s apple pie. me, Daisy, you and Donna, we’ll have a swell time, sipping lemonade and watching the grass grow.”
“Nothing in the world I would like better, Wilkes. Nothing I’d like better. Now, on my mark, count of three, we go. You ready? OK. 1...2...3...GO!”
Private William S. Wilkes made it out that day, and he sent the message back home via a letter, but he never knew if Captain Jim’s girl got it, or if that amazing, brave soldier made it out of the gym that day. Wilkes never forgot him, though, and he and Daisy named their first son “James.”
Yes, I came to realize there is no North Forks, Iowa. Still, you know what I meant. ;)
Posted by JimK at 12:00 PM on April 14, 2008
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Categories: Humor, Personal, Notes For My Wife, Writing
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