The
Government Won't Wait By
Quiet Seagull
"The
government won't wait!" Uncle
Sam dashed down the steps barefoot and sprinted through the snow to
the car, a suitcase in one hand, a shirt, his suit coat and
shoes in the other. Pop followed, shoved me in the back seat,
and started the car. It sputtered and groaned in the cold,
morning air, but finally turned over. The
narrow, empty street was a sheet of ice.
Pop drove slowly past the "We'll
make it," Pop said. "Hope
so. I'd hate to start off AWOL," Sam said, with a nervous
laugh. "When
will you get your gun?" I asked.
But Sam was preoccupied with his shoes. So was Pop, with
the icy streets. At
Union Station, the nerve center of Texarkana, the great, black engines
sprayed billows of steam along the platform, and the smell of burning
coal gave that special feeling of adventure. Black porters, in
red jackets with brass buttons and striped trousers, rushed about, and
uniformed soldiers lounged on the benches smoking or sleeping.
Duffel bags were scattered about singly. and in piles. "Train
number four on track number four," Sam read as he unfolded his
induction notice which had arrived in the mail a week before.
Pop pointed, "There." We
hurried along the track to the end of a line of uniformed
draftees slowly filing past a sergeant who checked them off on a
clipboard. He jerked his
head as he barked to each one, "On board!" Sam extended the
papers to the sergeant who glared over the clipboard at him, but did
not touch the papers. Sam
cleared his throat. "I’m
supposed to be with Group 4, number four train."
The sergeant continued to stare at him as he tore
the papers from Sam's outstretched hand. "Where
the hell have you been?" "The
streets were pretty icy. Took a while to get here," Pop
said. The
sergeant deliberately examined Pop. "And who asked you?" Pop
met his gaze. "Nobody. I don't wait for permission to
speak." The
sergeant turned back to Uncle Sam. "And why the hell aren't
you in uniform?" "My
brother's here to join the army," Pop said. The
sergeant turned to look Pop over from head to toe. Pop asked
quietly, "Do you want him or not?" Sam
tapped the sergeant's clipboard. "Okay, what now? I'm late. Should I go
home?" "Go
home? You get your sorry
ass through that door over there and get into uniform private,
on the double. If you're not back here in 10 minutes, I'll
have you court-martialled." He turned back to the line of
soldiers. "Good
luck. Keep a low silhouette," Pop said to Sam. "Yeah,
I will," Sam said.
Sam bolted off, but stopped. He came back and gave me a big
bear hug. We watched him disappear through the door. Pop
drove even more slowly on the way home. "Where
does Uncle Sam have to go?" "Don't
really know. Maybe a training camp. He'll write us." "Can
we go visit him?" "No.
He'll be too busy." "What
will he learn to do?" "Be
a soldier." "Will
he learn to kill people?" We
were passing the college. The campus was deserted except for one
young couple who strolled slowly and cautiously along a slippery
sidewalk and across the icy lawn holding hands. Their
breath made little icy puffs as they chatted. She smiled a lot.
He didn't seem happy. Pop gave them a long look, then answered
me. "Yes.
But he may not have to kill anybody. Let's hope he
doesn't." "Will
they give him a gun?" "Probably."
"Can
he bring it home?" "No.
When the war's over, they have to turn all that stuff back in. Besides
he won't need it when he comes home." "But
couldn't he use it to hunt?" "No.
The guns the soldiers use aren't made for hunting." Pop
thought a moment.
"When he comes back, he may not want to hunt any more." "Why
not?" "Hard
to say. When the soldiers came back from France, some of them
didn't ever hunt again." "Could
Uncle Sam get killed?" "All
soldiers can get killed, but most of them don't. Sam should be
all right.
He knows how to take care of himself." "When
will he come back?" "When
the war's over." "When
will that be?" "When
somebody wins?" "Could
the Japs win?" "I
don't think so." "What
would happen if they did?" Pop
was silent a long time. "They
won't. Don't you worry about it. We'll be fine.
Uncle Sam will be
fine. We'll all be fine." We
pulled into our driveway. "Can
we get the shotgun down?" "Why
do you want to get the shotgun down?" "I
wanted to march like the soldiers." Pop
picked me up and set me on the porch. "I
sold the shotgun." "But
how can we go hunting?" "We
can still go hunting. We
just don't have to shoot anything." "Awwww….."
"We'll
still have fun. I'll take you to the woods." "But
we can't shoot anything." "That's
okay. I'll show you how to have more fun without shooting
anything." I
went off into the house, my lower lip protruding slightly.
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