Function

“The function of freedom is to free someone else.” -Toni Morrison

USS Bayfield (APA -33) Portsmouth, England June 5, 1944

“Sam?” asked Willy, leaning over from the top bunk.

“Sure, Willy, I mean Will,” I said, hands behind my head staring at the springs and slats of Willy’s rack.

He shook his head. “No, Willy’s okay for you. I want the rest of them to call me Will, or Bill.” He nodded. “I like it when you call me Willy, it reminds…” He let it hang.

“Reminds you of your dad?”

He smiled. “Yah, sorta. Do you mind?”

“Hell, I’m only a couple years older than you, I can hardly be your dad.”

He pulled back so I couldn’t see him. “I’d like to think of you as my big brother. I never had one. Had older sisters, but no big brother.” He leaned over. “Do you mind?”

I smiled. “No, I don’t mind.”

He pulled back. “Are you scared?” he whispered. Though it was impossible to whisper with the snoring, shouts coming from the crap game in the head, and the noise of some 150 men in our bay just being men — turning and tossing, mumbling and subdued talking. It was more a muffled shout or a loud whisper.

It was almost midnight. We should be getting some sleep. We’ve been on this ship for two days now. We were supposed to go ashore this morning, but the sea was too rough. The landing craft would’ve never made it, we would’ve never made it. Most of us stayed in our battle dress. I kept my boots on. Probably not smart.

We had put back to port and now stood at anchor. The ship would tip one way and then another, list to port then starboard, buck and toss. The bouncing was diminishing, though there were still guys lined up for the head. The seas were calming. We would go tomorrow. Our first taste of combat. The Lieutenant said we’d be in the third wave, almost reserve, but not quite. We would go ashore.

“Yes, I’m scared.”

“What if we’re killed?” he asked.

I laughed.

“It’s not funny,” he said, leaning over.

“Sure, it is.”

I shook my head, then turned on my side to look at him face on. “What are you afraid of?”

“Well, dying, of course.”

“Okay, so you die, then what?”

“What do you mean, then what?”

“Just that, you’re dead. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’re dead.”

He leaned back. So did I. We let the silence hang.

After a minute or two, he leaned over the bunk edge. “Do you believe in heaven?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t believe in heaven, or hell for that matter.”

“So, you don’t believe in God?” he asked, leaning a little more so I could see his entire face.

I turned to face him. “Nope. Haven’t since I was in high school.”

“So, if you die tomorrow, that’s it?”

I nodded. “That’s it.”

He shook his head, then pulled back.

****

We heard the anchor chain clang against the hull. When the anchor thudded against its rest. We were right above the propeller shaft. The hum that was the engine while at anchor became a din. We could feel the propeller bite the water. We were moving.

Will leaned over. “Sam, I’m scared.”

“Perfectly reasonable.”

He gripped the rail with both hands. “No, I mean I’m really scared.”

“Think you’ll chicken out?”

He nodded.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Come on, I saw you face down Hughes. He was bigger, stronger, and meaner and you faced him down.”

“I was mad.”

I snorted, “So, get mad. Get mad at the Krauts. Get mad at the goons who put us on this ship and who will be shooting at us tomorrow. Get mad.”

“I could see Claude and he said things about my sisters. You remember me showing you their picture. I can’t see the Krauts and they never did anything to me.”

I smiled. “I remember.”

“So, how do I get mad?”

“Would it help if I told you the Nazis were like Claude, only worse?”

“How worse?”

“You’ve seen the same films I have.”

“Yes, but you read. You know things.”

“Doesn’t it bother you somebody wants to kill you. Wants you dead?”

He shrugged. “Well yes, but…”

“But what? We didn’t ask to be here. At least, I didn’t.”

He leaned back. “I didn’t either.”

“Hell, you didn’t have to be here. You’re the sole male heir. You asked for combat, you asked for this.”

“I did and I didn’t.”

“Oh?”

“You never grew up in a house full of girls, girls older than you; always being the baby. I had to join up.”

“I’m surprised your mother let you.”

He grinned. “She didn’t. I forged her signature and enlisted in another town where they didn’t know me, know my family.”

“The Lieutenant offered to assign you to another unit. You’re here because you wanted to be. What are you trying to prove? Who are you trying to impress?”

He pulled back. I checked my pack and double-socked my rifle. I checked the action and my clips. I even pulled out my bayonet, just to look at it. I could feel Willy watch me. His gear was next to mine, I was on the bottom bunk. Easier for me than for him. I looked up at him. “You might want to check your gear.”

He nodded, then swung down, moving to the end of the rack so he didn’t slap me in the face with his boots. He hadn’t taken his off, either. I moved over so he would have more room. After he went through the same drill I did, he looked at me. “Thanks for being my friend.” He stuck out his hand.

I took it. “You hungry?”

He shook his head.

“The ship’s settled down, it might be better if we have something to eat, coffee anyway.”

He nodded. “Yes, coffee would be good.”

We stood in line. A line of tense guys with blood-shot eyes, and stupid wise-cracks. The fear was palpable.

Willy leaned in. “I guess it’s not just me.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not just you.”

He watched me eat my powdered eggs and bacon. I could barely taste them. As I pushed my tray and his cup through the scullery window, the lights flashed, and we got the ‘NOW HEAR THIS’. It was a scramble to get back to our bunk and into our gear and line up at our debark stations. It was cold, still raining, but the wind had died down. Our ship was at the tail-end of the procession of ships steaming across the channel. Destroyers were running alongside up and down the line of transports — charging ahead, circling to the rear, then charging ahead again. Cruisers and Battlewagons were further out, and then there was another line of destroyers, corvettes, and light cruisers. There were ships as far as you could see against the graying horizon. It was still too dark to see land, and there was a heavy mist, anyway. No one was talking.

The ship slowed at the sound of the guns. We were maybe ten miles offshore. We could see the flashes and hear the roar of the cruisers and battleships. Those 14- and 16-inch guns are fearsome. I would hate to be on the receiving end of one of those shells. The air and the ship shook with each salvo the big boys let loose. Our 5-inchers would not be effective until we were much closer. All the anti-aircraft stations were manned, but the only planes were ours.

We could see the smoke in the distance. We lost our destroyer escort. We were by ourselves. The war had moved on. We relaxed. The cruisers and battleships were still hurling shells, but no return fire. Chin straps came off and cigarettes were lit. Willy and I didn’t smoke, but we did chew gum. We had gone through our five sticks and had to rummage through our packs to find more. When I pulled mine out and undid the foil string, Willy laughed.

He held up his foil cap. “You, too?”

I nodded, grinning. “Me, too.”

He smiled, then sat down on his pack. I joined him. The Lieutenant came by. “Don’t get too comfortable, this ain’t over. Omaha is taking a pasting. We could be next. Put your packs back on and stand ready.”

We were next. The engines came to life. We picked up speed. We joined the carnage. There were some ships afire, others listing badly to one side or the other. There was oil on the water. Then came the command — “AWAY ALL BOATS” “TROOPS OVER THE SIDE”. We lined up on the gunwales, then scrambled over the side. The sea was a little rougher than we were used to, but we were soon in the landing craft.

Once aboard, Willy handed me a stick of gum. I took it, then motioned him to turn around. I checked his pack, then turned so he could check mine. The Lieutenant grinned. Soon the platoon was checking each other. It gave us something to do, and it felt good to know somebody was looking out for you.

We passed landing craft on fire, others dead in the water. At one, you could see the helmsman dead at the helm. The plywood was riddled with machinegun fire. There were GIs hanging over the side. Other GIs were floating face down. The life belts did little more than keep their butts out of the water. A three-pound helmet put you face down in the water. Seeing this, the Lieutenant undid his chin strap and advised us to do the same until we were ashore. You can’t swim with a pack, boots, and a helmet.

There were little sprouts of water all around us, but none hit our boat. Our helmsman lined up on the shore and put us as far up on the shore as he could. The Lieutenant raised his arm, the ramp went down, and we scrambled ashore. We got there just as they were making the charge up the draw. Without orders, the Lieutenant joined the rush. We followed the Lieutenant.

We were soon atop the ridge. The Lieutenant reformed the platoon. We lost three guys; Claude was one of them. Can’t say I’m sorry. We marched about a quarter mile inland, then set up a perimeter. I never fired my rifle. The rubbers were still in place. I wasn’t alone.

Willy and I were resting our heads on our packs at opposite ends of our foxhole. It’s easy to dig a fox hole in sandy soil. Probably no protection, but it gives you a place to hide.

“We made it,” said Willy, looking up at the sky.

I laughed. “Any doubts?”

“Oh sure, now you’re all brave.”

“Well?”

He laughed. “You never took cover, not once.”

“Neither did you.”

He laughed. “A couple idiots?”

“I just did what the Lieutenant did. If he’d dived for cover, I would’ve. He didn’t, so I didn’t.”

Bigger laugh this time. “Yep, a couple fools. You didn’t, so I didn’t.”

The Lieutenant came by, dropping a couple C-rations in our hole. “You mind if I put you two in for the bronze star?” he asked.

“You getting one?” I asked.

“Why?”

“We didn’t do any more than you did.”

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Willy.

The Lieutenant turned to me. “Why did you two keep running? Hell, there were bullets kicking up sand all around us.”

“Because you were running. Seemed like the smartest thing to do — moving target and all that.”

He nodded to Willy. “How about you?”

Willy nodded to me. “He was running, so I thought that was what I should do. Why were you running?”

The Lieutenant tossed me a pack of gum, then turned to Willy. “Because that idiot was on my tail. Fine leader I’d be if I let you get ahead of me.”

We all laughed. Willy and I had to sit up, we laughed so hard.

“Eat up and then get ready, heroes. They expect a counterattack as soon as the sun gets in our eyes. They’ll come out of the sun.”

They didn’t counterattack, so we moved inland. When we got to the trees, we dug in for the night. I took first watch.

“Sam?” Willy whispered.

“Shhhuuush.”

He moved next to me.

“Get some sleep, we’re not out of the woods yet. Tomorrow could be worse than today.”

He shook his head. “Nothing could be worse than today.”

“Don’t be too sure. Now, get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. What are you going to do after the war?”

“Never given it much thought.”

“Go back to construction? Weren’t you a foreman, or something?”

“Or something. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

I turned to look at him. “Just wondering what?”

“Wondering if we could stick together after the war, maybe go to school together.”

I laughed, then caught myself. “Get some sleep.”

“What’s so funny about getting an education?”

“There’s nothing funny about it, if that’s what you want to do.”

“They had you pegged for OCS, why did you turn it down?”

I turned to him. “None of your business.”

“Afraid they’d look down on you because you’re an orphan? White trash?”

I snapped my head to look at him.

“You’re the only one who thinks that way. The Lieutenant wants to make you a sergeant, why don’t you let him. Hell, everyone follows you anyway.”

“The hell they do.”

“The hell they don’t. Did you ever look behind you?”

“They were following the Lieutenant.”

Willy laughed. “Right. Think about it, will you. I bet you’d make a great engineer.”

“And then what?”

He smiled. “And then we open an office and make lots of money. There has to be a market for two good engineers.” He rubbed his chin. “No, you should be the engineer, I should be the businessman.” He laughed. “Yes, I have the personality, you have the brains.” He sat up a little. “Let’s build houses, there will be a helluva market for houses. You design them, and I will sell them. What do you say?”

“I say you’re crazy. Now, get some sleep.”

Willy grinned. “Good, you’re thinking about it. Now, I can get some sleep.” He scooted to his end of our hole and fell asleep.

He woke as the sky was turning gray. He sat up, looking around. “You let me sleep.”

“Might as well, no chance I could sleep.”

He poured a little water in his hands and washed his face. “Why not?” he asked, rubbing his face.

I turned to him. “You got me to thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what I shouldn’t be thinking.”

“Shouldn’t be thinking?”

“About after the war. Guys who think they’ll get through this, get killed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?”

“No, damnit you don’t. What’s wrong with having a dream?”

“It’s a distraction. Your mind isn’t on what’s in front of you. You don’t move as fast as you should. You don’t think about what could be around the next corner, the next hill, tree, whatever. About how bad it can be. You don’t keep your wits about you. You think about Carol Ann and your little house with the white picket fence instead of Jerry hiding behind that tree, or whatever. You become stupid.”

He laughed. “Like staying up all night?”

“Yes, like staying up all night. It was a dumb thing to do.”

“Dumb or not, thanks. Oh, and it’s not Carol Ann. My sister’s name is Mary Ann.”

“I wasn’t thinking of your sister.”

“Of course not.” He rummaged through his pack and came up with a picture of his sisters.” He handed it to me. “She’s the one on the end, but you know that. You’ve looked at her often enough.”

“You’ve shown her to me often enough.”

“I saw how you looked at her. She’s just your age. She’d like you.”

I handed the picture back. “Keep it.”

“I’ve written her about you. She wants you to write.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.” He went back to his pack and pulled out a packet of letters. He opened one and handed me two sheets of V-mail stationary. “Here, when you get a chance.” He nodded to something over my shoulder. The Lieutenant was walking our way.

“Foster?”

“Sir?”

“I want you to take over 3rd squad. Sergeant Carter took one in the knee. It may be a ticket home for him. I need you to take his place.”

“I….”

He held up his hand. “I can’t order you, but you’d be doing everyone a favor. Everyone wants to get home. They’ll have the best chance under you.”

“Sir…”

Willy held up the picture, pointing at Mary Ann.

“What?” asked the Lieutenant.

I nodded with closed eyes.

Willy let out a little yelp. “Hurray.”

I turned to him. “Do I get to pick my corporal, since Corporal Smidt didn’t make it?”

Willy held up his hands, one still holding the picture. “Oh no, oh no.”

The Lieutenant laughed. “Get your squad ready to move out. We have to make St. Marie Eglais by sundown. It’s 15 miles and we don’t know who is out there. Your squad takes point. Thanks, Sergeant.” He nodded, then left.

“Tell Taylor and Reed, they’ll take the flanks. Then have Wilson take point. I’ll follow him, then Covey, Kelly, and then you as tail-end Charlie.” I looked at my watch. “If they haven’t eaten, that’s too bad. We leave in ten.”

Willy saluted. “Yes, Sir.” He bounded from our foxhole.

We made St. Marie Eglais an hour before sunset. No opposition. We took our time. We didn’t do anything stupid, white picket fence or not.

****

We got a reputation for being lucky. Maybe we were, maybe we were good. The Lieutenant made Captain. Willy — Bill and I kept adding stripes. Finally, they made me a lieutenant. They let me stay with the platoon. We joined Patton’s 3rd and made the dash across France with the 4th Armored Division. On the 4th of April we entered Ohrdruf Concentration Camp.

The SS had machine-gunned everyone, then left. There were piles of bodies and others lying where they’d been shot. Some of the piles were covered with lime, others doused in kerosene and set ablaze. You never get used to the smell of burning flesh. I grabbed one of the barbed wire fence posts and vomited. I wasn’t the only one.

I was washing my mouth with water from my canteen.

“Can you believe this?” asked Bill.

I nodded.

“Who could do such a thing?”

I shook my head.

“You okay?”

I shook my head. I’d seen death before, even some civilians, kids even, but this was beyond belief. After a few deep breaths through my mouth and another gargle, I turned to look at Bill. “This is why we’re here. This is why we had to be here.”

He looked around. He nodded. “I guess it is.”

I shook my head. “No guessing about it. Remember when we were on the transport about to land at Omaha?”

He nodded.

“You mad?”

He nodded. “Fightin’ mad.”

****

Almost twenty years to the day, Bill and I were coming out of a meeting with the City Council. There was a civil rights march in the street. Across the street stood a bunch of guys, one had a Nazi flag. Bill handed me his briefcase, then ran through the marchers and wrenched the flag from the guy, threw it to the ground, then wiped his feet on it. The guy pushed Bill to the street and was about to stomp on him. He didn’t get a chance.

Yes, it was a sucker punch, but I didn’t have much time to think. I hit him as hard as I could with our briefcases — left, right. He went down. His friends tried to surround me, but Bill was back on his feet. They circled us. I handed Bill his briefcase and we stood back to back. We were arrested for disturbing the peace. I messed the guy up pretty bad.

We were laughing in the back of the patrol wagon. The cops did not know what to make of us. One checked our eyes for drugs. We laughed harder. We told the judge our story.

“It wasn’t just the flag,” said Bill, “it was the thought behind it.”

“Thought behind it?” asked the Judge.

“Were you in the war?” asked Bill.

The Judge shook his head.

“Then you may not understand. Those people in the street, the marchers, they weren’t asking for anything more than to be treated like people, like you and me. Just as Jews asked in Germany. Nazis said they couldn’t be like you and me. Well, damnit, they can.”

“What we’re trying to say is nobody is free if we’re not all free.” I turned to Bill. “Besides, damnit seeing that flag and those scum with it made me mad…”

“Made us mad,” said Bill.

I nodded. “Right, made us mad. We fought for those marchers. They didn’t know it, don’t know it. Hell, we didn’t know it at the time, but we know it now. The kids have it right — ‘People Got to Be Free’.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYYQx9K6Cb0

The Judge let us go. He offered to have our arrest record erased. We may change our minds, but right now, we’re kinda proud.

Mary Ann picked us up. She was grinning. “Fine example you two make. What are the kids going to think, their father and Uncle brawling in the street?”

“Just exactly what we want them to think,” said Bill. “You want something, you best be prepared to fight for it.”

“In the middle of the street?”

“Wherever, whenever, and with whomever,” I said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Can we go home now?”