A Quilt for Jenna (17 page)

After Bobby and Reuben enlisted in the Marine Corps, they shipped out for basic training. The trip to South Carolina had been an uneasy one for the two friends. They didn't talk much. Reuben was in a funk most of the way, but Bobby ignored his friend's dark mood and concentrated on controlling his own anxiety about what lay ahead. Bobby was amazed at how quickly their lives had changed. After Reuben told Bobby about his decision to sign up, they packed their gear, stored the most important stuff, and found a friend who agreed to take over the apartment.

Bobby had enlisted a few days after Reuben, and both of them were due to leave the second Monday of January 1942. On the Sunday before they left, Reuben disappeared for almost the whole day. When he returned, Bobby asked him where he had been, but Reuben didn't want to talk about it. Bobby finally got him to confess that he had met with Jerusha one more time.

“It didn't go well,” was all that Bobby could coax out of him, along with a muttered imprecation toward women in general and Jerusha in particular.

Monday morning they went down to the train station with their suitcases and climbed aboard a troop train along with a large group of rambunctious recruits.

When they arrived after the two-day journey, the laughing, smiling group sauntered nonchalantly off the train at the Marine barracks at Parris Island. Within a few seconds they were running as fast as they could from place to place while being yelled at and manhandled. They ran to the chow hall, where they had their first Marine meal. After that they ran to the infirmary, where a row of Navy corpsmen and doctors gave them inoculations, checked their eyesight, and drew blood for testing.

Then it was off to Administration for paperwork, dog tags, ID cards, allotments, service record books, and issuance of the all-important service number. On the way between the meal and the dog tags they were introduced to the base barbers, who buzzed them bald and sent them on their way, minus their hair and anything else that gave uniqueness to their personalities. They received their service clothing, their rifles, and their first PX issue of personal items.

Then the new recruits were formed into platoons of between forty-eight and sixty men, and just when they thought it couldn't get any worse, Reuben and Bobby's platoon was introduced to their drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant Edgar F. Thompkins. Thompkins lined them up in a ragged semblance of order and then silently paced to and fro in front of them, shaking his head and scowling. At six feet five inches tall, Thompkins loomed over the platoon as the recruits stood frozen in awe. After a terrifying three minutes of silence, Gunnery Sergeant Thompkins spoke with a voice like broken glass.

“Sissies and slackers,” he said, his voice grating, “listen to me, you putrid maggots, and listen good
.
My name is Gunnery Sergeant Edgar F. Thompkins. You address me as ‘sir.' Not Sergeant or Mr. Thompkins, but ‘sir.' If you do not show me the respect I deserve, you will find yourself missing important parts of your anatomy. You will preface every statement you make to me with the word ‘sir.' You will answer every question by saying, ‘Sir, yes, sir!' or ‘Sir, no, sir!'

“Because you are all stupid, I'm going to make it simple for you. I will never ask you a question you need to answer with more than those three words—‘Sir, yes, sir!' or ‘Sir, no, sir!' I, on the other hand, will address you as ‘maggot.' My job is to turn you sissies into men. You think you're men now, but you're wrong. You don't have the faintest idea what a man is. But by the time I'm finished with you, you will be men or you will be dead. Just because you signed a piece of paper doesn't make you a Marine either. You will be a Marine when I say you are a Marine.”

Gunnery Sergeant Edgar F. Thompkins began to warm to his task, and his voice got louder and pitched up just a little bit higher.

“My job is to make you into Marines in five weeks. I can guarantee you that by the end of the first two weeks you will hate me as you have hated no other, but if you make it through to the end you will love me like your mother. As I look at you pieces of human garbage today, I don't have the slightest idea how I'm going to be able to turn you into fighting men. But I can guarantee you this—you
will
become Marines or die trying. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” the men shouted in unison.

Over the next five weeks, Bobby, Reuben, and the rest of their platoon learned how to dress the Marine Corps way, how to eat fast or go hungry, and how to march. Every day they marched for miles, forward marching, rip marching, flank marching, back and forth, up and down, across the field and back again, going nowhere on the double. Forty inches back to breast, shoulders back, chin up, cover off. Countless times, by the numbers, by the hour, without numbers, by the day...the same routine. When they weren't marching, the men ran everywhere they went and slept only a few hours each night. The forced marches and hard training began to make a change in the platoon, and by the end of the second week the hills didn't look nearly as steep and the once-flabby bodies began to take on a hardness that was unfamiliar to most of the recruits.

“Wow,” Bobby said to Reuben, when they had a short break one day. “I'm using muscles I didn't even know I had.”

“Me too,” Reuben said. “I'm in better shape than I've ever been.”

Just then Gunnery Sergeant Thompkins walked up to the two men.

“Springer!” he shouted.

“Sir, yes, sir!” shouted both men as they snapped to attention.

“Not you, Halverson,” said the sergeant. “I just want to talk to Maggot Springer.”

Thompkins motioned Reuben to step up close to him. Reuben stood at attention, ramrod straight, staring straight ahead. Sergeant Thompkins pushed his flat hat back on his head, put his hands on his hips, put his face within an inch of Reuben's, and stared straight into his eyes.

“It has come to my attention, Maggot Springer, that you come to us from the cowardly Amish religion. Is that right?”

“Sir, yes, sir! Sir, no, sir!” shouted Reuben.

“What was that, Maggot Springer?” Thompkins said.

“Sir, I come from the Amish, sir, but sir, the Amish aren't cowardly, sir!” shouted Reuben.

“Well, I don't see any of them joining up, Springer.”

“Sir, you're looking at one, sir!” shouted Reuben.

Thompkins took Reuben by the shirt and dragged him even closer. “When you are in the trenches, Maggot Springer, and one thousand enemy soldiers are charging up the hill at you pointing their bayonets and screaming like banshees, the men on your left and on your right will be counting on you to kill as many of those little insects as you can without blinking an eye and without running away. If you're Amish, I say you'll run when that happens. I don't think you have the nerve to kill a man. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Springer. I don't think you'll fight when push comes to shove.”

Thompkins put his hand in the middle of Reuben's chest and pushed hard. Reuben staggered back and then snapped to attention again.

“Did you hear me? I said I think you're a coward, Springer, descended from generations of cowards.” Thompkins pushed him in the chest again.

“Sir, don't push me, sir,” said Reuben quietly, and Bobby could see a deadly light start to blaze in his friend's eyes, the same look he had seen before the bar fight with Clancy.

“What did you say, Maggot Springer?” Thompkins pushed Reuben again.

“Sir, I respectfully request that the sergeant not push me, sir,” said Reuben, a little louder. Bobby could see the muscles on Reuben's arms start to bunch up and his hands form into fists.

“Would you like to punch me, Coward Springer?” Thompkins asked quietly as he pushed Reuben again.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Reuben said.

“Do you want to go through proper channels and put in a formal request?” Thompkins asked with a wicked grin. He towered over Reuben, but there was no fear on Reuben's face.

“Sir, requesting permission to beat the brains out of the Gunnery Sergeant, sir,” said Reuben quietly.

“Permission granted, Maggot Springer,” Thompkins said, and quick as a flash, Reuben threw a powerful punch at Thompkins' face.

Even more quickly, Thompkins moved to the side, took Reuben's arm as it flew by, twisted his body, and tossed Reuben head over heels in a heap at Bobby's feet. Like a cat, Reuben sprang to his feet and came back at the sergeant, his fists seeking Thompkins' chest and stomach. The sergeant took the blows without flinching and then grabbed Reuben by the arms. He fell backward while bringing his feet up into Reuben's belly and tossed him into a wall. Reuben hit the wall and dropped like a rag doll.

Thompkins smiled and stepped over to Reuben, offering him his hand to get up. Reuben allowed the sergeant to pull him to his feet, and before Thompkins could react, Reuben used his forward motion to move past Thompkins. As he did, he grabbed Thompkins, rolled forward and down, and flipped Thompkins onto his back a few feet away, almost knocking the wind out of him. Sergeant Thompkins leaped to his feet and was about to jump on Reuben when a sharp voice from behind them brought them both up short.

“Sergeant Thompkins, what's going on here?” Standing before them was the company commanding officer, Colonel Robertson.

Sergeant Thompkins snapped to attention, as did Bobby and Reuben.

“Sir, the recruit, Springer, and I were going over some of the fundamentals of hand-to-hand combat. The recruit seems promising, sir, and I was hoping to give him a head start in the training, sir. The recruit was demonstrating a move I had not encountered before, and I was about to allow him to show me the move one more time, so I could...formulate an appropriate response.”

The Colonel looked at Thompkins and then at Reuben and then at Thompkins again.

“Very well, Sergeant,” said the Colonel, “I will be interested in seeing your response when the platoon demonstrates its skills on record day. Carry on.”

The Colonel continued on his way. Thompkins and Reuben stared at each other for a moment. Then Thompkins stepped up to Reuben, stood in front of him, smiled, and stuck out his hand. Reuben took it, and the two men shook hands.

“I retract my statement, Maggot Springer,” said the Sergeant. “I believe you when you say you will fight. Carry on.”

And with that, the Gunnery Sergeant turned on his heel and walked away. Bobby and Reuben looked at each other in amazement.

“I think you just passed a big test, my friend,” Bobby said.

C
HAPTER
20

Looking Up

T
HE LITTLE GIRL HEARD A SOUND
, like a scraping at the window. She opened her eyes and looked up. The side window of the car was in front of her, and she could see something moving outside, brushing the snow away from the glass. The movement outside the car continued, and suddenly the little girl was looking up into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. The eyes in the face stared back at her, and the mouth opened in surprise.