Caleb's Wars (13 page)

"Oh, I bought you some stationery. And some chocolate bars and chewing gum, too."

"You thought of everything."

"That's a mother's job." Ma wiped away tears.

Randall went to her. "Don't. Please don't cry, Ma."

"Promise me you'll be careful! Don't take any chances. No one needs you to be a hero, but we need you to come home."

"I will. War's gonna be over soon—before you know it."

"I'll be praying for you. Every day, Psalm Ninety-One: 'A thousand may fall at thy side, ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come near thee."'

"Thanks, Ma."

"And you pray, too. Promise me!"

From the yard, Pop started calling for us to come on or Randall would miss his train.

Ma hurried away to get her hat and her purse. Randall took one last look around our room, squeezed my shoulder, and grabbed his stuff. "Don't
you
look so glum," he told me. "I can't stand that. Remember what I told you."

"I will."

"Heck, Caleb! This ain't the end of the world. It's the start of my biggest adventure."

***

At the station we waited in silence. Then the train came along and Randall found the Colored Only car. He hugged Ma, shook hands with Pop, and hugged me, too. I could feel tears coming, but I held them back. Pop put his arm around Ma, and he looked pretty rough himself. Randall got on, found a seat by the window, and waved to us until the train disappeared.

"Let's go home," Pop told Ma. I headed to the Dixie Belle, feeling lower than I had since the evening Pop whipped me.

The place was hopping, as usual, which was good—it kept me too busy to be sad. After we cleaned up, Aunt Lou cleared a space on the worktable, and Andreas brought out a big bowl, measuring cups, and some spoons.

"Andreas is gon' bake us some German bread," Uncle Hiram told me. "Seem he say somethin' at the camp about wantin' to do it, and they bring Lou word, askin' if it be all right. This mornin', they sent over some special German stuff from the camp, from what they ordered for the prisoners to eat. Andreas want to show us what his folks eat over in Germany."

Aunt Lou looked up from the stew she was simmering. "Miz Sondra say if he can cook good, we might could put some o' his stuff on the menu. We see about that."

In between doing his regular chores to help get dinner ready, Andreas mixed up his bread dough, kneaded it, and let it rise. By the time we were done with the dinner rush, he had two loaves of warm rye bread ready for us to eat. It smelled delicious, the way fresh-baked bread always does. I'd never eaten that kind of bread, and I wasn't sure I'd like it, but it tasted as good as it smelled. We all had some, even Betty Jean and Miss Sondra. Not Voncille, though. She left the minute dinner was over.

Andreas looked pleased that everyone liked his bread.

"
1st gut, ja?
" he said. "I make again? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Well, I be!" Aunt Lou cried. "You mean to say you can talk English? You been understandin' everything we been sayin' all this time?"

He shook his head. "
Nein.
English—no, not so good.
Nur ein bisschen
—just a little."

"From now on, y'all better watch what you say," Miss Sondra warned.

"I make tomorrow?" Andreas repeated. "
Das Brot?
"

She looked at him coolly. "I don't see why not. As long as you can do all your other work first. Maybe we can order some Swiss cheese. Some of our customers don't want a full meal at dinner, and perhaps they'd enjoy a Swiss on rye. With a dill pickle on the side. We'll see."

After she left, Aunt Lou said that woman would put chicken-fried rattlesnake on her menu if she thought she could make an extra buck.

At home Ma was taking down laundry. Everything on the line was Randall's—sheets, towels, clothes he'd worn while he was on leave. "I'll have a lot of ironing tomorrow," she said. "Something to keep me busy."

In our room Randall's bed was remade with fresh sheets, his dresser dusted, and all of his things put away. Seeing it all so neat made me feel strange. Randall might never be coming back to sleep here. He'd come home from the war and go off to Atlanta.

We ate a quiet supper, and Pop helped me wash dishes, a chore he hated. I could tell he was trying to be extra nice for Ma's sake.

Two days later we had a letter from Randall, letting us know he'd gotten to Fort Gordon okay. They were going to have some extra training and be issued their gear for overseas. Soon he'd be on his way to Norfolk, and then Europe.

***

I was walking to work on a Tuesday morning in June—June 6, 1944, to be exact. The sound of a wagon coming fast toward Toad Hop got me off the road. It was Isaac Washington, who worked a night shift cleaning offices in Davisville. He stopped when he saw me.

"Mornin', Caleb. Your daddy up yet?"

"Not when I left. What's your hurry, Mr. Isaac? Anything wrong?"

"Big news. Wonderful news! I was cleanin' up the newspaper office just now when word come over the wire. They give me a copy to share with folks." He pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket. "Here."

I knew Mr. Isaac couldn't read, so I read it out loud. "'Under the command of General Eisenhower, Allied naval forces supported by strong air forces began landing Allied armies this morning on the northern coast of France.' What's it mean?"

"The invasion of Europe done started, that what! Hitler been pushin' 'gainst the rest of Europe long enough, and we gon' push back. Mr. Sam say he bet we be in Berlin by July."

"Will Randall still have to go?"

"Can't say. I pray not. Well, let me get on, now. Your daddy's gon' want to know, and then we can spread the word. Wouldn't be surprised if Brother Cecil call a service of thanksgiving for this evenin'."

He urged the horse on, and I went on my way. My mind kept coming back to Ma. For her sake, I hoped Randall wouldn't have to go. Maybe the men at the newspaper office were right—maybe the war would end real soon and Randall could stay in America, where he belonged.

At the Dixie Belle they'd already heard the news. I hadn't seen Aunt Lou look so happy since I'd started working there. She hugged me and said that for sure Randall would be coming home now.

"We pray so," Uncle Hiram added, "but the radio say it a long way from France over to Germany, and they's a lot o' German soldiers between our boys and Berlin. And don't forget about them Japs."

"No more o' that," Aunt Lou scolded him. "This ain't no mornin' to be spreadin' no gloom. Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Churchill been sayin' all along we gon' win this war, and we
are
gon' win it! Only a matter o' time now."

"You right, honey. All I'm sayin' is, it ain't gon' be no easy road."

"Bless God Randall ain't in it," Aunt Lou told me. "I pray the Lord Jesus protect every one o' our boys this day."

That's when Andreas came through the back door.

"Good morning," he said. How could he not notice we were all staring at him? "Is good day. America—Eisenhower—fight. Is good."

"Good?" Uncle Hiram exclaimed. "It
bad
news for y'all, ain't it?"

"America fight Germany." His words came out slowly. "Win Germany. Is good." He went to the closet to get his apron.

"If that don't beat all," Uncle Hiram said. "That boy want
us
to win? Why'd he fight for them Nazis, then?"

"Probably didn't have no choice," Aunt Lou replied. "Probably got hisself drafted the way most o' our boys did."

Andreas came back in and set to work in silence. He kept to himself, working like a machine. Voncille came in, gave him a smug look, and made a big point of telling us all how happy she was and what a great day had come at last. I hoped Andreas's English was as bad as he claimed, because he didn't need to hear all that. For all we knew, he had a brother or someone in the fighting.

That was a busy morning. Lots of folks came to eat, celebrating the first good news we'd had in a while. They played "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" and "The White Cliffs of Dover" on the jukebox. Even Miss Sondra was in a good mood.

Through it all, Andreas kept his face set. What was in his mind? I glanced at him peeling potatoes for dinner and couldn't imagine hearing that the Germans had invaded America and feeling glad about it. How could Andreas want his country to lose this war?

For two days Ma held on to the hope that D-day meant Randall's orders to Europe would be canceled. But the Germans were fighting for every foot of ground. Although our troops managed to land at Normandy and capture some towns, thousands of men were dying. The road to Berlin would be one big battle.

All our hopes that Randall could stay in the States ended with his letter saying his unit was heading for Norfolk and then Europe. Some lines had been marked out with black ink, and Pop said the censors had gotten to it.

Then we didn't hear from Randall for a couple weeks. We'd heard about German U-boats sinking our ships right off the coast of North Carolina, so it was a relief when we got a letter from Naples, Italy, telling us Randall had arrived safe and sound.

Every day Ma's face looked a little older. Every day Pop looked more worried. He stopped giving me such a hard time, though. I guess he realized how it upset Ma when he picked on me. Every day I had to work with Andreas, knowing that his country had started all this trouble. And almost every day I had to watch Stewart Davis come into the kitchen, get in the way, help himself to everything, and act like the place belonged to him. If his daddy scolded him, it hadn't done any good. It wasn't fair that a draft dodger like him was here at home while decent, brave guys like Randall were off trying to drive the Nazis out of their conquered territories. Thoughts like that made me want to slash some more tires.

For a while I waited for God to talk to me again, but he didn't. Maybe Randall had been right, I sometimes thought. Maybe it was just my imagination. But later I'd change my mind again. It
had
happened; it
was
God. But the longer God kept quiet, the easier it was to forget about him. One day I realized I hadn't thought about him in a week. That embarrassed me. From then on I prayed to him every night, but it wasn't to ask him to speak to me again. I prayed for Randall to come home safe.

L
EE DAVIS GOT HIS WAY
, and soon work started on bringing electricity to Toad Hop. I saw it happen because I walked to town every day. The prisoners began putting the poles in the ground. Later, men from the power company would come and string the wires.

One evening not long after the work had begun, we were sitting on the front porch, trying to stay cool. The weather was unusually hot for June, and Ma was fanning herself. Miss Suzy Jackson, the "Church Mother" of Holy Zion congregation, appeared in the yard and Ma invited her to come up and sit a spell.

I figured something was up. Miss Suzy took her role in the church very seriously. Pop said one day she'd get rid of Brother Johnson and take over the preaching herself. Ma told Pop that wasn't funny, but she allowed that Miss Suzy could be overbearing. Still, she meant well. But I agreed with Pop. If you didn't get out of Miss Suzy's way, she'd run right over you. And she was big enough to do it, too.

Miss Suzy accepted Ma's offer of pound cake and coffee and got right down to business. "Some o' us ladies met this afternoon and decided we wants to do somethin' nice for them men what's workin' so hard to bring the power out our way."

"Like what?" Ma asked.

"You know what the Lord say 'bout how we suppose to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty and visit them what's in prison. Not only that: we all suppose to follow the golden rule."

"Certainly—"

"Well, so far, ain't no one done a blessed thing for them German mens! They in prison, ain't they, and who 'mong us has paid them one visit? That mean we disobeyin' God's holy word."

"I don't know about God's holy word," Pop put in, "but ain't no one gonna be allowed inside that camp to visit. And as for them bein' hungry and thirsty, from what I hear, Uncle Sam takin' plenty good care of 'em. Word is, they eat better than some folks right here in Toad Hop! And got better roofs over they heads, too."

"I didn't say they goin' hungry," Miss Suzy replied evenly. "But they ain't nothin' keepin' us from showin' 'em a little kindness. After all, they doin' us a big favor."

"Like they got a choice in the matter! Davis sniffed out a way to get some free labor, and somebody signed a paper okayin' the deal, and them prisoners didn't have one word to say about it one way or 'nother. You think them Huns give a damn 'bout whether we get power or not? Nazis got about as much use for Negroes as they got for Jews. If they had they way, we'd all be dead."

"Lucy," Miss Suzy went on, ignoring Pop, "you ain't never been one to go against the Word of the Lord. Why, everyone in the church look up to you as a model of Christian charity!"

Ma glanced at Pop like she was hoping he'd get her off the hook somehow, but he didn't say anything. "What are the ladies thinking of doing?"

Miss Suzy brightened. "We thought it be right nice to bake up some sweet cakes, cookies, and such. Cold lemonade, too. After dinner sometime soon, carry everything over to where they workin'. They'd like that."

"I suppose," Ma replied, without enthusiasm.

"We thought you could bake up a couple o' your pound cakes. No one make pound cake good as you, child." To prove her point, Miss Suzy took a huge bite and sighed with happiness. "We thought to do it day after tomorrow. That give everyone time to buy they ingredients and do they baking. And that remind me: my sugar ration stamps is all used up. You got any left?"

"I believe so."

"Don't suppose you could share any?" This wasn't the first time Miss Suzy had come begging for some of Ma's ration stamps. "I ain't askin' for myself. This is for a good cause. Sometimes we got to sacrifice if we intend to obey the Lord," she added grandly.

The expression on Pop's face made me want to laugh.

"Let me see what I have." Ma found her ration book. "Yes, I have some sugar stamps left."