DATo
09-11-2014, 07:01 AM
Boats That Sail Across The Skies
by
DATo
CHAPTER I
July 1943
A military staging base on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona - U.S.A.
"We’re heading west boys, so have your gear packed and be ready to move in forty-eight hours. I can’t tell you when we’ll be on the Pacific or where on the west coast we’ll be shipping out from, that’s classified, but ... we’re a-goin’. This time it’s for real. So if any of you knuckleheads hasn’t filled out his GI life insurance papers or if you have any letters to send home do it now." said Lieutenant Morrison to his platoon of 48 men as they sat congregated in one of the newly built quonset huts.
"One more thing. I’ve been told that we will need an electrician in this platoon. Anybody here an electrician, or do I have to requisition one?"
Private first class Vincent Matteo sheepishly raised his hand.
"How old are you son?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Nineteen years old sir." responded Private Matteo.
"And you’re an electrician?" asked the lieutenant skeptically.
"Yes sir. Got an early start. Finished technical school in ‘40 then me and big brother started a company. We were doing OK and then the Japs hit Pearl and, well, here I am." said Vincent.
There was a slight smattering of laughter and nodding of heads as other members of the assembled group remembered how their own lives had been turned upside-down by the war.
Lieutenant Morrison pointed directly at Private Matteo’s nose and said, "You’re now a sergeant. You’ll be responsible for three trucks and six men."
Once again there was a smattering of laughter by the men, this time accompanied by applause and a few catcalls. The men knew they could get away with this. The unusually close relationship of the men and their lieutenant, though it did not strictly adhere to military protocol, had contributed to the feeling of kindred closeness and the high level of morale in the group.
Vincent, while looking at the ground he sat on and nodding with a silly grin, raised his hand to acknowledge his comrades and then, in all seriousness, saluted Lieutenant Morrison as if to say, Ok with me boss.
July 1943
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Corporal Katsu Kotako sat in a grass hut overlooking the bay to the north of Kwajalein Island, the largest island of the Kwajalein Atoll. It was a beautiful day. Great billowing clouds of the purest white were accented against the cobalt blue backdrop of the sky. Corporal Katako was charged with the mindless duty of visually monitoring, from his elevated hilltop position, an expanse from the beaches to the distant horizon of the Pacific ocean for signs of an enemy which, on such a perfect day, Kotako was hard-pressed to believe actually existed.
Corporal Kotako was hard-pressed to believe many of the things he had been told but he wisely kept his doubts to himself. He knew, for instance, that any enemy approach would be known long before he sighted them. They would be picked up by radar, patrol planes, and picket ships, but his duty was to sit in this hut and serve as an observer, and Corporal Kotako almost always obeyed orders willingly. He felt a mild pang of uneasiness when he thought of the times he had disobeyed orders however. During the occupation of Guam he had intentionally shot over the heads of the civilians he was charged to kill as they fled in confusion. He had also intentionally missed the people he was once assigned to shoot as a member of a firing squad. He knew the victims lives were forfeit, someone else would see to it, but he could not bring himself to be a killer of the helpless; in fact, to date, Corporal Kotako was unaware of having harmed anyone since the beginning of hostilities. There was always the off chance that one of his bullets fired into the general area of an enemy had found its mark, but so far he had never been aware with any degree of certainty of anyone ever killed as a direct result of his own, intentional efforts.
Corporal Kotako watched the clouds as they passed across the sky and smiled. Since the time when he was a child he had always loved to watch clouds rolling across the sky. He thought of them as sail ships, sailing to unknown destinies.
In addition to knowing that his present duty was a worthless waste of time, Corporal Kotako was also aware that the sun was an enormous fireball in the heavens - one of an apparently infinite number of stars which just happened to be close to the earth. But he had been told that the sun was a god and that his Emperor was descended from this god. Kotako could not reconcile the scientific facts with the beliefs he had been taught - the beliefs his parents and everyone he knew and loved believed and expoused. He tried not to think of it because every time he did he became confused. It was his duty to believe what he had been told by his elders.
Corporal Kotako cleaned his already immaculate Ariska 99 rifle to pass the time. He remembered the lecture he received when he was given the rifle. During the lecture the officer told of a famous and mighty band of warriors who had lived long ago. When going off to war the warriors were told by their own mothers and wives to return with their shields or lying dead upon them. Such was the respect and reverence to be shown by every warrior of the Imperial Army of Nippon to his rifle. Kotako thought it curious at the time to think that a mother would hold the value of a shield to be of more importance than the life of her own son.
"It’s time Katsu. I am here to relieve you. Go get something to eat." said Corporal Onoda. "How many Americans have you killed in the last four hours?"
Corporal Kotako laughed but said, "I wouldn’t joke about that. We may be seeing them sooner than we think."
"Why would they want this ridiculous atoll? Sometimes I think the army is punishing us for all the infractions we’ve committed and thought we had gotten away with by posting us here." said Onada.
"YOUR infractions Kinji - san. I do not commit infractions." replied a laughing Katsu Kotako, but his smile melted as he once again remembered his dereliction of duty regarding the ordered killing of civilians. Corporal Kotako inspected his rifle one last time before shouldering it and leaving the hut.
March 2014
Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery - St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
An American flag snapped sharply against the wind of a cobalt blue sky - a sky accented by billowing, pure white, cotton candy clouds. The monotonous clanking sound of a halyard against the metal flagpole was interrupted by three barked orders, followed each in turn by the precisely timed reports of three rifles. Sergeant Vincent Matteo, aged ninety, was being laid to rest. The three rifle bearers, in Marine dress blues now stood at parade rest as a white-gloved military officer presented the flag which had covered their father’s coffin to his three middle-aged children, Vincent’s wife having preceded him in death.
As the congregation of friends and family began to depart an elderly man was approached by Joseph Matteo, Vincent’s oldest son.
"Uncle Paul! Did Virginia mention for you to join us back at dad’s house? The girls put together a lot of food for everyone for lunch." said Joe Matteo.
"Yes, yes I’ll be there. Listen, I want to tell you now, before I forget, to stop by my place sometime soon. I have something of your father’s that I want to give to you."
"Yeah? What is it Uncle Paul?"
"This isn’t the time or the place Joey. Just stop in when you can." replied Uncle Paul. "How are you boys and your sister holding up?"
"We’ve been expecting it. After all he was ninety years old. I think he was ready, too. I think he was just tired of living Uncle Paul, and he never stopped missing mom. We’re just grateful that he had his wits right up to the end. Just last week he was telling us again, for the hundredth time, about him and his buddy, Ack-Ack, during the war." laughed Joe.
Uncle Paul laughed too. "He had so many funny stories. Well, he had a gravy assignment for the most part and missed a lot of the carnage. He and his crew used lights and generators to light up the bombed out Japanese runways at night so the Seabees could get them repaired after the islands were taken and secured. Those airstrips were of the highest priority and they had to work day and night to make them operational again as soon as possible, but you already know all this. Your dad probably helped build a couple dozen airstrips during that war."
"Yeah, and he told us about every one of them too." laughed Joe. "I miss him already Uncle Paul"
"See you back at the house." said Uncle Paul as Joe Matteo climbed into the limo with his sister and brother for the ride back.
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko walked carefully over the uneven pathway leading from her home to the commercial district. She was still, despite her age, very spry and healthy though the winter had taken its toll upon her arthritis. She was on a mission to purchase something of extreme importance. If she failed to make the purchase she would be disgraced in her own eyes for the remainder of her life. She was startled as a motor scooter sped closely and noisily past her in the street. She would never allow herself to become accustomed to the modern state of the world. "Japanese children have all become Westernized!" she would often complain, "They lack respect for our traditions and historical way of life." Sachiko knew that her son or daughter would have willingly undertaken the errand to make the purchase for her if she had asked them to, but this was her duty, and her responsibility, to delegate it to anyone else would be disgraceful. Sachiko increased her pace in defiance of the pain she felt in her arthritic ankles.
=================================================
Chapter II
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
The American military leaders had learned a bitter lesson on the island of Tarawa, their forces having sustained over six thousand casualties. They were determined not to repeat the errors which had led to those casualties. After a tremendous bombing campaign by air and sea forces the island of Kwajalein was attacked by fifty thousand American GIs effectively outnumbering the Japanese forces by approximately eight to one. Though fighting still continued at the far end of the atoll, on the island of Roi-Namur, the island of Kwajalein had been declared SECURED.
Corporal John Popowski, otherwise known as Ack-Ack by the men in his platoon approached the third of three utility trucks which had just disembarked from the gaping jaws of the LSD beached on the shore. The enormous transport had been disgorging equipment and supplies for the last hour.
"Hey Vinnie! One of the Marines of the Fourth Division just told me that they kicked the crap out of the Japs. They’re estimating over five thousand casualties. We lost only a hunnert or so killed and about eight more wounded."
The corners of Sergeant Matteo’s thinly trimmed mustache lifted in a smile as he said, "Just be glad your working for me Akkie or you might have been one of them. I think all that praying my mom does finally paid off. You got to admit Ack-Ack, we got it good back here. I feel awful bad for those poor bastards who are the first to set foot on these damn islands."
As Sergeant Matteo was speaking the piercing wail of the alert siren sounded.
"What the hell is going on?" said Ack-Ack. "This HAS to be a drill. There ain’t no Jap airbases around here that haven’t already been taken."
Then they saw the small speck in the sky to the northeast as it began its descent in a trajectory pointed directly at the beachhead.
"RUN FOR IT ACK-ACK !!!" shouted Sergeant Matteo.
They both ran to the promising protection of a wall of supply crates fifty yards away as the sound of the lone enemy plane and anti-aircraft fire became audible. Soon a half-dozen small bombs began exploding upon the beach, and then the lone plane veered northward directly into the sun to blind the antiaircraft gunners as it made its escape.
"You OK Vinnie?" said Ack-Ack.
"Yeah. You?" replied Vincent.
They then looked about them and noted for the first time that in addition to the crates, and beside them, were stacked what could be estimated to be two hundred artillery shells.
"You stupid Da-go!!! Why the hell did you lead me to these shells. If they had been hit and gone off there wouldn’t be enough of us left to ship home in an envelope!!!" screamed Corporal Ack-Ack as he grabbed Vincent by the lapels of his shirt and shook him.
"You goddamned Po-lock!!!! I WAS FOLLOWING YOU!!!!" screamed back Sergeant Matteo as he threw himself upon Ack-Ack and wrestled him to the sand. Their fighting strength was soon sapped by their laughter.
They lay smiling on their backs in the sand looking up at a cobalt blue sky, euphoric in the knowledge that they were both still alive. Sergeant Matteo raised his arm and pointed.
"Look at those beautiful clouds Akkie. That one looks like a camel."
"The hell it does," Replied Ack-Ack. "It looks like a porterhouse steak, smothered in mushrooms and onions, with a baked potato and pie ala mode. And look ... look right there ... a cold beer. See the foam on top? NO! A WHOLE CASE OF BEER!"
They both laughed once more, like the couple of kids that they were, as the ‘all-clear’ sounded.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
"Hey, Joey! You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have fixed some lunch for us." said Joseph Matteo’s uncle.
"That’s OK Uncle Paul. Just ate."
"Everything getting back to normal?"
"Yes, pretty much so. We still have to decide what to do with dad’s house and go through his stuff to determine what to keep and what to get rid of. There are so many memories associated with all that furniture that it’s going to be hard to part with it, but we can’t keep it all." said Joe.
"Speaking of stuff," said Uncle Paul. I want to give you something of your father’s - what I mentioned to you that day at the cemetery. Have a seat. I’ll be right back."
A few moments later Joe’s uncle returned bearing his brother-in-law’s property.
"Woah! Was that dad’s? I never knew he ever hunted. Looks like a deer rifle." said Joe.
"No, Joey. He brought it back from the war. I guess he figured me, being so much younger than his own brothers, would be around longer to pass it on to you when he was gone. I wrote up an explanation just in case I caught it before I had a chance to explain things to you, but it seems that wasn’t necessary now."
"Was it his rifle during the war, Uncle Paul?"
"No Joey. No, it wasn’t." Paul Torralino had to sit down before he could continue. He ran his hands over the ancient relic tenderly as he awkwardly began the tale, "He wanted ... he wanted ... Oh, Jesus Christ!!! .... he wanted you kids to know what happened. He ... he had trouble talking about it. He cried when he told me what happened. He didn’t even tell his own brothers. I really don’t know why he even told me, but he did, and now, at his request, I must tell you. There is one war story of your father’s that you’ve never heard before."
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko heard the tiny bell ring over the door as she entered the shop. The elderly proprietor, Aito Hirayama bowed deeply and smiled warmly at Sachiko as she made her way to the counter.
"Ahh, Sachiko!!! You have not been in my shop for some time. Have you renounced me? said Mr. Hirayama.
"You know why I am here, and if you tell me that you have none I shall pray that this roof collapse upon your stupid and irresponsible head." said Sachiko angrily.
"We have been friends since childhood dear Sachiko. Why do you speak to me this way? If you are angry with me please tell me what I have done." replied Mr. Hirayama.
Sachiko's attitude was at once mollified. "I am not angry with you Aito-san, I am angry with myself. I am old now and my mind does not work as it once did. I thought I had saved a second packet but I cannot find it. The anniversary approaches and I am in a panic. If you do not have any you must get some for me immediately! Please Aito-san, please do not disappoint me." Sachiko appeared ready to cry.
"Sachiko, Sachiko, please calm down, I have a goodly supply. I always overstock just for you. You know that I have always had a special place in my heart for you since we were children. Have you forgotten Sachiko? I have never forgotten."
For the first time Sachiko smiled. "May the gods of my ancestors bless you Aito. Please forgive my behavior."
Aito Hirayama took two packages from a drawer. "This you will pay for." said Aito Hirayama as he extended the small parcel wrapped in brown paper with his right hand. "And this extra portion is a gift, from me to you." he said as he extended his left.
"I'm sorry Aito." said Sachiko.
"Oh, go on! You have already said that." replied Mr. Hirayama.
"No, Aito. I mean for the other. You know I always thought fondly of you but …"
"Yes Sachiko." Mr. Hirayama whispered quietly. "I know."
... to be continued
by
DATo
CHAPTER I
July 1943
A military staging base on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona - U.S.A.
"We’re heading west boys, so have your gear packed and be ready to move in forty-eight hours. I can’t tell you when we’ll be on the Pacific or where on the west coast we’ll be shipping out from, that’s classified, but ... we’re a-goin’. This time it’s for real. So if any of you knuckleheads hasn’t filled out his GI life insurance papers or if you have any letters to send home do it now." said Lieutenant Morrison to his platoon of 48 men as they sat congregated in one of the newly built quonset huts.
"One more thing. I’ve been told that we will need an electrician in this platoon. Anybody here an electrician, or do I have to requisition one?"
Private first class Vincent Matteo sheepishly raised his hand.
"How old are you son?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Nineteen years old sir." responded Private Matteo.
"And you’re an electrician?" asked the lieutenant skeptically.
"Yes sir. Got an early start. Finished technical school in ‘40 then me and big brother started a company. We were doing OK and then the Japs hit Pearl and, well, here I am." said Vincent.
There was a slight smattering of laughter and nodding of heads as other members of the assembled group remembered how their own lives had been turned upside-down by the war.
Lieutenant Morrison pointed directly at Private Matteo’s nose and said, "You’re now a sergeant. You’ll be responsible for three trucks and six men."
Once again there was a smattering of laughter by the men, this time accompanied by applause and a few catcalls. The men knew they could get away with this. The unusually close relationship of the men and their lieutenant, though it did not strictly adhere to military protocol, had contributed to the feeling of kindred closeness and the high level of morale in the group.
Vincent, while looking at the ground he sat on and nodding with a silly grin, raised his hand to acknowledge his comrades and then, in all seriousness, saluted Lieutenant Morrison as if to say, Ok with me boss.
July 1943
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Corporal Katsu Kotako sat in a grass hut overlooking the bay to the north of Kwajalein Island, the largest island of the Kwajalein Atoll. It was a beautiful day. Great billowing clouds of the purest white were accented against the cobalt blue backdrop of the sky. Corporal Katako was charged with the mindless duty of visually monitoring, from his elevated hilltop position, an expanse from the beaches to the distant horizon of the Pacific ocean for signs of an enemy which, on such a perfect day, Kotako was hard-pressed to believe actually existed.
Corporal Kotako was hard-pressed to believe many of the things he had been told but he wisely kept his doubts to himself. He knew, for instance, that any enemy approach would be known long before he sighted them. They would be picked up by radar, patrol planes, and picket ships, but his duty was to sit in this hut and serve as an observer, and Corporal Kotako almost always obeyed orders willingly. He felt a mild pang of uneasiness when he thought of the times he had disobeyed orders however. During the occupation of Guam he had intentionally shot over the heads of the civilians he was charged to kill as they fled in confusion. He had also intentionally missed the people he was once assigned to shoot as a member of a firing squad. He knew the victims lives were forfeit, someone else would see to it, but he could not bring himself to be a killer of the helpless; in fact, to date, Corporal Kotako was unaware of having harmed anyone since the beginning of hostilities. There was always the off chance that one of his bullets fired into the general area of an enemy had found its mark, but so far he had never been aware with any degree of certainty of anyone ever killed as a direct result of his own, intentional efforts.
Corporal Kotako watched the clouds as they passed across the sky and smiled. Since the time when he was a child he had always loved to watch clouds rolling across the sky. He thought of them as sail ships, sailing to unknown destinies.
In addition to knowing that his present duty was a worthless waste of time, Corporal Kotako was also aware that the sun was an enormous fireball in the heavens - one of an apparently infinite number of stars which just happened to be close to the earth. But he had been told that the sun was a god and that his Emperor was descended from this god. Kotako could not reconcile the scientific facts with the beliefs he had been taught - the beliefs his parents and everyone he knew and loved believed and expoused. He tried not to think of it because every time he did he became confused. It was his duty to believe what he had been told by his elders.
Corporal Kotako cleaned his already immaculate Ariska 99 rifle to pass the time. He remembered the lecture he received when he was given the rifle. During the lecture the officer told of a famous and mighty band of warriors who had lived long ago. When going off to war the warriors were told by their own mothers and wives to return with their shields or lying dead upon them. Such was the respect and reverence to be shown by every warrior of the Imperial Army of Nippon to his rifle. Kotako thought it curious at the time to think that a mother would hold the value of a shield to be of more importance than the life of her own son.
"It’s time Katsu. I am here to relieve you. Go get something to eat." said Corporal Onoda. "How many Americans have you killed in the last four hours?"
Corporal Kotako laughed but said, "I wouldn’t joke about that. We may be seeing them sooner than we think."
"Why would they want this ridiculous atoll? Sometimes I think the army is punishing us for all the infractions we’ve committed and thought we had gotten away with by posting us here." said Onada.
"YOUR infractions Kinji - san. I do not commit infractions." replied a laughing Katsu Kotako, but his smile melted as he once again remembered his dereliction of duty regarding the ordered killing of civilians. Corporal Kotako inspected his rifle one last time before shouldering it and leaving the hut.
March 2014
Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery - St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
An American flag snapped sharply against the wind of a cobalt blue sky - a sky accented by billowing, pure white, cotton candy clouds. The monotonous clanking sound of a halyard against the metal flagpole was interrupted by three barked orders, followed each in turn by the precisely timed reports of three rifles. Sergeant Vincent Matteo, aged ninety, was being laid to rest. The three rifle bearers, in Marine dress blues now stood at parade rest as a white-gloved military officer presented the flag which had covered their father’s coffin to his three middle-aged children, Vincent’s wife having preceded him in death.
As the congregation of friends and family began to depart an elderly man was approached by Joseph Matteo, Vincent’s oldest son.
"Uncle Paul! Did Virginia mention for you to join us back at dad’s house? The girls put together a lot of food for everyone for lunch." said Joe Matteo.
"Yes, yes I’ll be there. Listen, I want to tell you now, before I forget, to stop by my place sometime soon. I have something of your father’s that I want to give to you."
"Yeah? What is it Uncle Paul?"
"This isn’t the time or the place Joey. Just stop in when you can." replied Uncle Paul. "How are you boys and your sister holding up?"
"We’ve been expecting it. After all he was ninety years old. I think he was ready, too. I think he was just tired of living Uncle Paul, and he never stopped missing mom. We’re just grateful that he had his wits right up to the end. Just last week he was telling us again, for the hundredth time, about him and his buddy, Ack-Ack, during the war." laughed Joe.
Uncle Paul laughed too. "He had so many funny stories. Well, he had a gravy assignment for the most part and missed a lot of the carnage. He and his crew used lights and generators to light up the bombed out Japanese runways at night so the Seabees could get them repaired after the islands were taken and secured. Those airstrips were of the highest priority and they had to work day and night to make them operational again as soon as possible, but you already know all this. Your dad probably helped build a couple dozen airstrips during that war."
"Yeah, and he told us about every one of them too." laughed Joe. "I miss him already Uncle Paul"
"See you back at the house." said Uncle Paul as Joe Matteo climbed into the limo with his sister and brother for the ride back.
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko walked carefully over the uneven pathway leading from her home to the commercial district. She was still, despite her age, very spry and healthy though the winter had taken its toll upon her arthritis. She was on a mission to purchase something of extreme importance. If she failed to make the purchase she would be disgraced in her own eyes for the remainder of her life. She was startled as a motor scooter sped closely and noisily past her in the street. She would never allow herself to become accustomed to the modern state of the world. "Japanese children have all become Westernized!" she would often complain, "They lack respect for our traditions and historical way of life." Sachiko knew that her son or daughter would have willingly undertaken the errand to make the purchase for her if she had asked them to, but this was her duty, and her responsibility, to delegate it to anyone else would be disgraceful. Sachiko increased her pace in defiance of the pain she felt in her arthritic ankles.
=================================================
Chapter II
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
The American military leaders had learned a bitter lesson on the island of Tarawa, their forces having sustained over six thousand casualties. They were determined not to repeat the errors which had led to those casualties. After a tremendous bombing campaign by air and sea forces the island of Kwajalein was attacked by fifty thousand American GIs effectively outnumbering the Japanese forces by approximately eight to one. Though fighting still continued at the far end of the atoll, on the island of Roi-Namur, the island of Kwajalein had been declared SECURED.
Corporal John Popowski, otherwise known as Ack-Ack by the men in his platoon approached the third of three utility trucks which had just disembarked from the gaping jaws of the LSD beached on the shore. The enormous transport had been disgorging equipment and supplies for the last hour.
"Hey Vinnie! One of the Marines of the Fourth Division just told me that they kicked the crap out of the Japs. They’re estimating over five thousand casualties. We lost only a hunnert or so killed and about eight more wounded."
The corners of Sergeant Matteo’s thinly trimmed mustache lifted in a smile as he said, "Just be glad your working for me Akkie or you might have been one of them. I think all that praying my mom does finally paid off. You got to admit Ack-Ack, we got it good back here. I feel awful bad for those poor bastards who are the first to set foot on these damn islands."
As Sergeant Matteo was speaking the piercing wail of the alert siren sounded.
"What the hell is going on?" said Ack-Ack. "This HAS to be a drill. There ain’t no Jap airbases around here that haven’t already been taken."
Then they saw the small speck in the sky to the northeast as it began its descent in a trajectory pointed directly at the beachhead.
"RUN FOR IT ACK-ACK !!!" shouted Sergeant Matteo.
They both ran to the promising protection of a wall of supply crates fifty yards away as the sound of the lone enemy plane and anti-aircraft fire became audible. Soon a half-dozen small bombs began exploding upon the beach, and then the lone plane veered northward directly into the sun to blind the antiaircraft gunners as it made its escape.
"You OK Vinnie?" said Ack-Ack.
"Yeah. You?" replied Vincent.
They then looked about them and noted for the first time that in addition to the crates, and beside them, were stacked what could be estimated to be two hundred artillery shells.
"You stupid Da-go!!! Why the hell did you lead me to these shells. If they had been hit and gone off there wouldn’t be enough of us left to ship home in an envelope!!!" screamed Corporal Ack-Ack as he grabbed Vincent by the lapels of his shirt and shook him.
"You goddamned Po-lock!!!! I WAS FOLLOWING YOU!!!!" screamed back Sergeant Matteo as he threw himself upon Ack-Ack and wrestled him to the sand. Their fighting strength was soon sapped by their laughter.
They lay smiling on their backs in the sand looking up at a cobalt blue sky, euphoric in the knowledge that they were both still alive. Sergeant Matteo raised his arm and pointed.
"Look at those beautiful clouds Akkie. That one looks like a camel."
"The hell it does," Replied Ack-Ack. "It looks like a porterhouse steak, smothered in mushrooms and onions, with a baked potato and pie ala mode. And look ... look right there ... a cold beer. See the foam on top? NO! A WHOLE CASE OF BEER!"
They both laughed once more, like the couple of kids that they were, as the ‘all-clear’ sounded.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
"Hey, Joey! You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have fixed some lunch for us." said Joseph Matteo’s uncle.
"That’s OK Uncle Paul. Just ate."
"Everything getting back to normal?"
"Yes, pretty much so. We still have to decide what to do with dad’s house and go through his stuff to determine what to keep and what to get rid of. There are so many memories associated with all that furniture that it’s going to be hard to part with it, but we can’t keep it all." said Joe.
"Speaking of stuff," said Uncle Paul. I want to give you something of your father’s - what I mentioned to you that day at the cemetery. Have a seat. I’ll be right back."
A few moments later Joe’s uncle returned bearing his brother-in-law’s property.
"Woah! Was that dad’s? I never knew he ever hunted. Looks like a deer rifle." said Joe.
"No, Joey. He brought it back from the war. I guess he figured me, being so much younger than his own brothers, would be around longer to pass it on to you when he was gone. I wrote up an explanation just in case I caught it before I had a chance to explain things to you, but it seems that wasn’t necessary now."
"Was it his rifle during the war, Uncle Paul?"
"No Joey. No, it wasn’t." Paul Torralino had to sit down before he could continue. He ran his hands over the ancient relic tenderly as he awkwardly began the tale, "He wanted ... he wanted ... Oh, Jesus Christ!!! .... he wanted you kids to know what happened. He ... he had trouble talking about it. He cried when he told me what happened. He didn’t even tell his own brothers. I really don’t know why he even told me, but he did, and now, at his request, I must tell you. There is one war story of your father’s that you’ve never heard before."
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko heard the tiny bell ring over the door as she entered the shop. The elderly proprietor, Aito Hirayama bowed deeply and smiled warmly at Sachiko as she made her way to the counter.
"Ahh, Sachiko!!! You have not been in my shop for some time. Have you renounced me? said Mr. Hirayama.
"You know why I am here, and if you tell me that you have none I shall pray that this roof collapse upon your stupid and irresponsible head." said Sachiko angrily.
"We have been friends since childhood dear Sachiko. Why do you speak to me this way? If you are angry with me please tell me what I have done." replied Mr. Hirayama.
Sachiko's attitude was at once mollified. "I am not angry with you Aito-san, I am angry with myself. I am old now and my mind does not work as it once did. I thought I had saved a second packet but I cannot find it. The anniversary approaches and I am in a panic. If you do not have any you must get some for me immediately! Please Aito-san, please do not disappoint me." Sachiko appeared ready to cry.
"Sachiko, Sachiko, please calm down, I have a goodly supply. I always overstock just for you. You know that I have always had a special place in my heart for you since we were children. Have you forgotten Sachiko? I have never forgotten."
For the first time Sachiko smiled. "May the gods of my ancestors bless you Aito. Please forgive my behavior."
Aito Hirayama took two packages from a drawer. "This you will pay for." said Aito Hirayama as he extended the small parcel wrapped in brown paper with his right hand. "And this extra portion is a gift, from me to you." he said as he extended his left.
"I'm sorry Aito." said Sachiko.
"Oh, go on! You have already said that." replied Mr. Hirayama.
"No, Aito. I mean for the other. You know I always thought fondly of you but …"
"Yes Sachiko." Mr. Hirayama whispered quietly. "I know."
... to be continued