10. Dan-The Unbelievable
Dan Hanson and his wife, Sara Hanson, lived in back of the Trailer Court, where Chris friend Thompson lived, in one of several small, one bedroom housesmade out of wood with no basements, thin walls, about the size of a double garage, back in Minnesota. They had an eighteen-month old baby boy, and Dan attended the Aviation School, down the highway a-ways, just past the military base. He was not in the military like most of Chris friends, but simply a friend that hung around at Thompsons house and either got drunk or high off pot when not in school; and they both, he and his wife got to know the group at Thompsons quite well, to include Chris. If either he, Dan or his wife, Sara were standing in their backyardat any given time, possible on the small porch that extended about four feet out from the edge of their house, that had three steps to it, leading up and to the platform and to the back door, one could see the trailer court, and if the moon was out at night, which it was this evening, you could see Thompsons trailerfor it lit the backside of it. To the left of them was another cemetery, smalland undoubtedly unused for that purpose for a few decades, and behind the graveyard, like the one outside of town, were a few shacks, not many, three in sum, where black folks livedand again the cemetery was used for trash.
Sara was a nice looking young lady, about the same age as her husband, Dan, and Dan being around the same age as Chris, somewhere around twenty-three years old. He had tried to sell Chris his guitar, wanting $100 for it a week earlier, but Chris only offered $25, which outraged Dan, so he gave him $35, telling him he really didnt want it in the first place, he had a guitar, but Dan needed the money, and so Chris purchased it. In a like manner, often times Dan would try to induce Chris to go into business with him, selling pot. At the oddest times hed show up with a sack of grass as full as a two five gallon garbage bag, a pocket full of money, give some of his pot away to the folks at the trailer house, and go elsewhere to sell the rest. In a week or so hed be broke again trying to find something to sell and to get Chris involved. Sometimes Chris would go over to see if Dan and Sara wanted to join them at Thompsons house, and find they were having their own party, and laying all about half stonedlazy like, drifting into cornball-heaven. And Chris would sit around have a few puffs off the jointswhich he didnt care for in the first place, and then go back to find some beer at Thompsons and get smashed on good-ol-alcohol.
Well, this Friday night was different. Sara and Dan had been outside, seen Chris walking about the Courtyard at Thompsons place, and Dan having to go to work, said something to Sara, then he was gone. Sara called over to Chris, getting his attention, and waved him on over. Again, she was an attractive 55 redhead, with a slender, curv ed body. No one would have ever known she had a child. As Chris approached, Sara all alone, Chris lit a cigarette. Looked at her, she was appealing, and a little tired looking from probably smoking pot he figured, but her speech was fine, a bit slow, but ok.
Sara: Hello? she said, as Chris stood within a few feet now of herwith a half smile; then both gave one another a few more pleasantries.
Sara: Say Chris, Sara says in her puzzling looking eyes, Im not sure how to say this
Chris: Say what?
Sara: Do you want to go to bed with me? Chris was tongued tied. There was no doubt she would be a good sort to have fun with in bed, and they liked talking to one another, and talked somewhat freely, and the age was rightin that they were about the same age, but she was married and her husband was a friend, and this was quite peculiar, what was behind this thought Chris.
Chris: It would be a good thought, youre quite attractive, but married, and your husband is my friend, and hes most likely not far away.
Sara: Well, Ill tell you the rest, Dan asked me to ask you, he also asked me if I wouldnt mind going to bed with you, and I said, if I was to go to bed with someone other than him, I wouldnt mind it being you, but there is one thing hed like. A pause took placeshe was looking for the right words.
Chris: What might that be, he said inquisitively.
Sara: Well, he wants to be in the room with usI, I mean, look, he wants to watch us make love, hell sit in a chair, and hell be home soon, and then we can do it.
[Christhought for a moment, not sure what to say Would he care if it was just you and I and not him in the room [Chris knowing it was not really what he wanted?
Sara: No, he was pretty affirmative on that part, she smiled, she almost looked a little let down; Chris also knew Dan was trying to get him to go into business with him, and so he gave her a kiss on the cheek, a hug, and told her he needed to get back to Thompsons, knowing he did not want to be persuaded, and didnt want to embarrass her, and once Dan came back, and him being already excited about her, that is, in a lustful way, it was best he be gone, least he let him talk him into the game, hence, to avoid them completely for a few weeks would be the answer thought Chris, and thereupon, dismissed himself.
As he walked away, her face was a little illuminated by the light of the moon: Chris then brandished a cigarettein his hands waving to her, she: Sara, to him had a peculiar ambition, loyalty to her husband being part of this, he thought, then Chris scanned the skies as he talked to himself on the way over to the trailer-courtwalking between a fence with some foliage growing around it.
11.
South Carolina Marine
Corporal Robert Benton had been used to being far from home, a-train ride from Charleston South Carolina, to Red Stone; Alabama for training was but a hop-skip-an d-jump for him. He had joined the Marines at age 17, and had already been to and back from the Vietnam War or conflict as it was being portrayed as; now sitting at Corporal Thompsons trailer home outside of Huntsville, and the military base nearby, he was getting drunk with Thompson, Chris and the Chief, Chris Indian friend. He was at Red Stone for the same purpose all the other three were, explicitly, for training in advance munitions
as they all sat back in the somewhat cramped spaces of the living room area of the trailer house, wine bottles, cigarettes, beer cans all sitting on the table, some in the trashcan by the sofa, to the left, a case of beer sitting along side of the somewhat small sofa to the right, the background music was that of Nat King Coles Trio: everyone was chatting, chumming about, squirming to get situation on the sofa and side chair alongside the coffee tablesmoking cigarettes and playing cribbage. It was a restful Saturday, one that was but a week away from Chris leaving for his new duty assignment. He was a week short of getting his orders to move on to his next duty station but was not sure where it would be yet. Robert had gotten his a few days previously, he was headed for Panama.
--Chris, every so often would get up and look out the trailer window[on the other side of the coffee table looking past the other trailer houses onto the parallel highway about one-hundred yards from their trailer[inquisitiveand becoming quite the habit since his run in with the cop car a while back to see if there were any cops leaking about in their automobilesin hopes they might find a stray black and white man walking together, or possible, just an alone black man.
Said the tall husky black Robert, with a somber voice:
I used to look out windows in South CarolinaI sure did, many of times, where Im from; took training next door, in North Carolina, at Fort Bragg, like you Chris, ya, sir, I looked out those wind ows many times, there also, but I cant figure out why a white chap like you are looking out a window, they not looking for you brotherthe cops, you know that [with a smile, he commented.
Said Chris: You mean to tell me, they followed you around too?
Said Robert: They sure did, just like a mountain cat theyd do, but youre white, nothing to worry about?
Said Chris: Not sure why Im looking--: still cant believe they followed me and my friend, my black friend for a mile or so down the highwaytwo soldiers, thats all we are, two damn soldiers, --and the cops like a cat after a mouse follow us like we were the mice.
The big six-foot-three black, husky Marine, with his big wide shoulders sat back in the small sofa, made for the trailer house specifically: made for a smaller man alsofilling half the sofa up, said:
dem windows get to ya after a whileya-know. Chris almost laughed, he was really feeling stupid for constantly looking for the police, as if they were going to show up any minute outside the trailer: pulling aside the curtains, as if he had done something wrong.
All black-men on base know police in the South follow black-man, especially if they look like they are walking aimlessly along any roads, mainly isolated ones, matter of fact, it bothers them when three or four of us are standing together, as if wes gona rob the bank down the street [he chucked with his heavy and large looking head.
You like the south, he asked Chris with a flat affect on his face.
Yes and no [baselessly he commented, then added, Id prefer to live in the north, and visit the south, it seems safer that way, plus, I wouldnt need to look out windows all the time, everyone started laughing at that.
Me too, said Robert with confirming eyes, Ive lived in Ohio for a spell, I like it there, going to move to St. Paul someday, be like you, a Midwesterner. Again all at the table laugheda friendly laugh.
Im from St. Pa ul, replied Chris.
I know, Thompson told me so, haaaaaaabut someday.
Chris was two years older than Robert, he had already been to Vietnam, and back, and Chris was yet to go, but it looked very promising for the near future. Then Robert asked: Why not finish this game? he said it with a peaceful happiness, slowly moving his big bulky shoulders forward toward the coffee table.
--It would seem Robert was a little like Chris, or Chris like Robert, there were battles to be fought in the world, but it was better to have the ability to hand pick the ones you wanted to fight, like quite rain, instead of them picking you. And here, the game started back up, and it would seem they [they being: Robert and Chris: were not about yesterday, today or tomorrow, it was for them, about right now. For a black man, it was how it was, for a white man it was how it was becoming. Chris was learning about the south and Robert was to learn more about the north. Both were in t he happening, both on the new world stage.
12.
The Fountain and the Test
It was forenoon, Sunday when Christopher Wright, and Henry St. Clair [the Chief, reached the towns fountain, as they talked,--thinking about the test they took yesterday, and all passed, and had to get ready to leave soon for their new assignmentswhich would be in a few days. The instructor gave everyone the answers in fear theyd not pass, and hed get a bad reputation; consequently, everyone got high marks, and thank goodness for the answers, thought Chris, it was a busy three months, too much drinking, too much everything. He had sent his mother a Post Card and a picture of the rockets at the center, and watched a few future astronauts as they tried to assemble some apparatus in a big underwater tank, getting ready for a future space flight. It was a good time to be living thought Chris, and especially today, the sun was out, he had a yellow-wind-breaker on, a very light jacket. A w arm wind in the air, everything seem so fresh. He had met some good friends he thought, here in Alabama [plus he hadnt known yet, but in a year from then, hed meet Henry again, in Vietnam.
As the two sat waiting by the fountain for something to happen, sitting down smoking a cigarette, too early to get drunk, too late to get breakfastjust wasting time. Then like magic, two lovely teenage girls showed up, out of nowhere. They both looked at the two soldiers.
Come over here, said Chris with a very approachable voice, and smile.
What for, said the taller blond?
Come here, were not going to bite you, I want to take a picture with you, you the black haired gal take one of me and the blond.
Thats crazy, what for? said the blond.
Well, to be honest, I want to send it back home to my friends, and also to show my Army friends what a pretty girlfriend, southern girlfriend I have or had, while here in good old Alabama; you know, show off. Ev eryone started laughing, and the taller blond, that looked about sixteen or seventeen, quite developed, and as pretty as a blue-jay, said to her shorter, slim, girlfriendbrunette, Why not, a favor for the US Army.
Book: 2
A poet mirrors truth--:
Quite wittinglyupside down--;
So says, he, the clown!
[From the poem: The Clown
Through the City and into the Woods
[Sketches of military life in the mid--seventies in Europe
As told by Buck Sergeant Christopher Wrightl974-l977
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Chapters
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