Phantoms in the Snow

by Kathleen Benner Duble

  Noah trampled along in his uncle’s footsteps, painfully aware that he was unwelcome here. He didn’t like the feeling. Tomorrow, Noah promised himself, he would figure out some way of getting himself back to Texas and then some way of making a living. Maybe he could hire himself out to a farmer. He dismissed this idea as soon as it came to him. He remembered how little his own parents had. No farmer from his town could afford to pay someone else to do their own work for them. They probably couldn’t even afford to feed him. Still, there had to be some solution. It would just take a little time and creativity for Noah to come up with it.

  Back in his uncle’s barracks, Shelley handed Noah two blankets. Noah shivered. The barracks were unbelievably cold.

  His uncle pointed to the bed next to his, one in a row of many beds. “You can sack out there. Cam can find some other place to sleep tonight.”

  Then he handed Noah a radio. “Sleep with this next to your chest. You’ll need it.”

  “What for?” Noah asked, wrinkling his nose at the rubbery smell in the place. He thought of the sweet scents of home, the aroma of a drenching rain on hungry fields and the perfume of a Texas spring night. How could these boys stand this odor?

  “You need a radio during combat,” his uncle answered. “You sleep with it ’cause at night it gets cold, so cold that if you didn’t sleep with it, that radio would freeze. That’s just something you should learn to do. And as for the smell, which I can see is bothering you, boy, well, it smells in here from the records and candy bars we melt down to put on the bottom of our skis. It’s like wax but better. It makes the skis faster. Don’t worry. You’ll learn all these little details tomorrow. Skeeter says you’re sixteen, old enough to sign up with my permission. Heck, you should’ve signed up already like everybody else is doing. But being raised by pacifists, I guess not signing up isn’t so strange. But now you’re with me, you might as well join the war effort here. All right, it’s time for some shut-eye. Days at Camp Hell start at four thirty A.M.”

  His uncle smiled, seemingly happy that he had found a solution for Noah.

  Noah stared at him. What had his uncle just said? He meant to sign Noah up? Was he crazy? What had Noah done, lying about being sixteen? Would he be forced to train for combat?

  “Something the matter, boy?” his uncle asked.

  With a great deal of effort, Noah forced the fear away and tried to think rationally. He had to stay here tonight. He had to get some sleep. But in the morning, he would tell his uncle the truth. Everything would work itself out tomorrow. Noah shook his head in answer to James Shelley’s question. It was just one night. He could survive one night.

  “Good,” his uncle said. “Then let’s get some shut-eye. I know it’s early, but I’m beat. And I bet you are, too.”

  Noah turned and spread out his blankets on the bed.

  “Uncle Shelley, sir?” he asked.

  “What?” his uncle asked impatiently from his own bed.

  “Can I have a pillow?” Noah asked.

  His uncle shook his head. “Pillows are for softies, kid. And that’s one thing we don’t have here.”

  Then his uncle rolled over and shut off the light. The inside of the barracks was doused with darkness.

  Noah slid into the bed, wrapping the blankets around him and pulling the radio tight to his chest. He thought of home longingly, of the long grasses and the flat, bright sky on a sunny day. Tomorrow, he reminded himself, as the strangeness of the place wrapped itself around him like a blanket of cold, only one night and then I’ll work out how to run away, what to do, and how to live by myself back home. I can do this! I can do this!

  Then softly, his uncle spoke into the darkness. “Wouldn’t my old man die if he saw me now, Noah boy, you here with me and me teaching you how to ski. He hated my skiing, you know. Called me a bum, he did, my own father. He sent me away ’cause that’s all I wanted to do. So I left ’cause that’s all I wanted in my life, that feeling of soaring down those slopes and the wind and the snow. But the sad part was …”

  He went silent. Noah waited, wondering if, because of the hike, his uncle had fallen asleep mid-sentence. But just when it seemed James Shelley was done talking, he started again.

  “But see, the sad part was her. I had to leave her behind when he threw me out. She was only ten, and that’s the last time I saw her. Yeah, that’s the last time I saw your mother.”

  Noah turned away from his uncle. He hadn’t cried once since his parents had died but the confusion and oddness of being here finally overtook him. Noah stuffed the rough blanket into his mouth so his uncle wouldn’t hear the sound of the crying he could no longer prevent.

  Noah needn’t have worried. Within minutes, the big man next to him was snoring.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Noah woke to the sound of moaning and groaning and the sight of his uncle bending over him, shaking him awake. He rubbed his eyes, swollen slightly from the muffled tears of last night. Relief rushed through him. Today, he would leave this place.

  “Rise and shine, soldiers,” James Shelley sang out to everyone. “Time to get training.”

  Every bunk in the barracks was filled. Most of the boys were ignoring Shelley, turning over and pulling the covers back over their heads. Others were sitting on the edge of their beds and staring down at the floor. A few were actually up, but they were pulling on their pants with a bleary-eyed weariness.

  Fully dressed, James Shelley was beaming. He strolled over to the door of the barracks and threw it open.

  “Shelley, please,” a pencil-thin boy begged. “It’s cold enough in here.”

  “Cold’s the name of the game, Cam,” Noah’s uncle called back, and he walked outside, leaving the door ajar.

  Noah shivered. His blankets were covered in a fine layer of frost, and his breath was coming out of his mouth in white gusts.

  James Shelley came back in with a bucket. “Come on, Noah boy. Let’s wash up before breakfast.”

  Noah slid out of bed, gritting his teeth against the cold. He decided to stay in the same clothes he was wearing from the day before. He wasn’t about to take the time to search his bag for something else to wear, even if it would have been cleaner.

  He walked over to where his uncle stood, the bucket in front of him. His uncle handed him a bar of soap. Noah bent over and dipped his hands in the bucket, then jumped back, splashing water down his front.

  The water was ice cold. “Are you kidding?” he yelled.

  “Oh, come on, boy,” his uncle said impatiently. “Throw some of that on yourself. It’ll wake you up good.”

  Noah remembered the sunshine in Texas and the way the hot air pushed against his nose like a wall. He would give anything now for a touch of that warmth.

  “Come on, boy,” his uncle repeated, pushing Noah out of the way. “It isn’t that hard.” To demonstrate, James Shelley undid the top of his shirt, letting it fall down around his waist. He threw his hands into the bucket and splashed cold water all over himself, soaping up and rinsing in quick, practiced movements.

  The boy named Wiley, who had had the tent pulled down on top of him, sidled up to Noah with a towel and bar of soap in his hand. “He tried to get all of us to do this on our first day here. He’s crazy. Come with me, and I’ll show you where you can get a good, hot shower.”

  James Shelley’s head came up from the bucket. “What did you say?” he raged at Wiley, splashing water all around him. The boys nearby scattered to avoid getting doused. “Out! Out! Out! This is my nephew, and I’ll teach him how to make his way around this camp, if you please!”

  Wiley grinned at Noah. “Later,” he said, winking and then running for the door.

  “There’ll be no later!” Shelley roared after him. “Come back here and face me, you coward!” But Wiley was already gone. Roger and Cam were silently laughing, covering their mouths to hide their mirth.

  “Don’t you listen to him!” James Shelley commanded Noah. “That Wiley’s a softie. And no nephew of
mine is gonna go soft. Got it?”

  Noah nodded. Sure, he got it. He got it, loud and clear. The boy Wiley was right. His uncle was crazy. Who’d ever heard of washing in cold water when you were already freezing? Or hiking seventy-five miles with just a candy bar? These were not things a sane person would do.

  James Shelley sighed. “Well, I guess you can skip a wash this morning. That Texas body of yours probably needs a little time to adjust to the climate around here. We’ll try again tomorrow. In the meantime, let’s go chow down.”

  His uncle grabbed up his parka and Noah did the same, following his uncle toward the mess hall. A hot breakfast, a quick talk with his uncle, and he was out of here. Noah couldn’t wait.

  Once they were seated with eggs and hot coffee in front of them, Noah took a deep breath. “Uncle Shelley?”

  “Yeah?” his uncle said.

  “Maybe my training with you isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Why?” his uncle asked, his head coming up, his eyes shining. “You don’t like it here or something?”

  “No, sir,” Noah lied, after seeing the fierce look on his uncle’s face. “I mean, yes, sir. I mean, I like it fine, but maybe it would be better if I joined up somewhere else so you can concentrate on your work here.”

  James Shelley visibly relaxed at Noah’s words. “Don’t you concern yourself with that, boy. They can spare me for a day or two. It won’t take you long to learn the routine around here. You can’t go anywhere at the moment, anyway. You need authorization and a pass to take the train out, and no one’s going to lend you one of the military vehicles so you can run off to another unit to sign up.” His uncle laughed at the thought.

  Noah’s heart sank. He would need permission to take the train home?

  “Yeah,” his uncle said, taking a big bite of toast, “a few days’ skiing and a few days’ training, and you’ll fit right in. Nothing to worry about, Noah boy.”

  Skiing? The word caught Noah’s attention. He’d never even thought of skiing in Texas. The idea of learning to ski appealed to him. He’d seen pictures of people skiing.

  Maybe he could take a few days to learn how to do something fun while he figured out how to get away. It would give him time to send a letter or two, to line up a job and a place to live. He really didn’t have a choice. And if they started on actual combat training, he’d tell his uncle the truth about his age.

  “Besides, you don’t think I’d let my sister’s kid just go wandering off into the world unsupervised now, do you? Come on,” James Shelley said, standing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Let’s get you out on those slopes.”

  Outside, Noah followed his uncle across a central yard. The sun was just starting to rise, and the mountains were enveloped in mist. Pine trees on the lower slopes dropped large handfuls of snow to the ground with a soft plopping sound.

  They entered a building filled with skiing equipment, neatly arranged from floor to ceiling. Everything but the shelves was white — the skis, the poles, the boots, and the snowshoes. The place smelled of polish and disinfectant.

  “Something I can do for you, Shelley?” a man asked, rising from behind a dark wooden counter.

  “I need some skis for my nephew here, Sam,” James Shelley said. “I’m going to take him out for a few runs today.”

  “He a new recruit?” Sam asked. “I didn’t know we were expecting any.”

  “I’d like to know the same thing,” came a voice from behind them.

  Noah turned to see a man in uniform, standing tall and stern. He was the first person Noah had seen who looked as if he actually belonged in the military. His dark blue eyes bored into Noah’s. The hair rose on the back of Noah’s neck.

  “General!” James Shelley boomed out. “I’d like you to meet my nephew, Noah Garrett.”

  “A pleasure, I’m sure,” the general said, shaking Noah’s hand.

  Then he turned toward Noah’s uncle. “What’s the story, Shelley? Why aren’t you out getting ready for drills?”

  Noah’s uncle walked up to the general and draped his arm over the man’s shoulders. “Well, it’s kind of like this,” he said in a low voice, turning the general back toward the door. Noah had to strain to hear him.

  “He’s my sister’s kid,” James Shelley explained. “His parents were taken with the pox. He has nowhere else to go.”

  The general looked severely at Noah’s uncle. “Shelley, you know we can’t have civilians on base.”

  “The kid’s sixteen,” James Shelley said. “His parents were pacifist types, wouldn’t let him join. But Noah here had planned on joining the outfit, anyway. So, we break a little rule, and let him in without the usual routine. I mean, General, he’s just like me. He can’t wait to get his hands on those Germans and Japanese and prove a thing or two.”

  The general turned. His eyes narrowed on Noah. “Can he ski, Shelley?”

  Noah didn’t say anything, but he felt his palms start to sweat.

  “Can he ski?” James Shelley repeated. “I mean, whose nephew is he? Of course he can ski. He’s one of the best you’ve ever seen. I’m just taking him out now for a little refresher. He’s been in Texas lately and hasn’t skied in a while.”

  The general shook a finger at Noah’s uncle. “If you’re pulling a fast one on me, Shelley, I swear I’ll bring you up on charges.”

  James Shelley smiled at the general, his eyes wide and innocent. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  Noah watched the exchange in disbelief as his uncle lied without even twitching.

  The general sighed. “Oh, all right. For you, Shelley, ‘cause you’re one of the best here. And because in this godforsaken place, I guess it won’t get back to headquarters about him, just like they don’t know that you guys don’t ever march or wear uniforms.”

  He paused. “But, Shelley, I’m warning you. In eight weeks, we’re having a drill, and if I don’t see that kid skiing his heart out, he’s on his way back to wherever he came from. You get me his papers. I want that kid’s birth certificate and three letters of recommendation on my desk, pronto. I want your signed approval for him to join up since you’re his guardian, and he’s under eighteen. And you’re back on training tomorrow. From what I’ve heard, you’ve already had a few days off. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Noah’s uncle said, standing straight and saluting the general.

  The general waved his hand at Shelley. “Aw, cut the crap. Nobody else around here shows me any sign of respect. Why should you?”

  Then, turning on his heel, the general was gone.

  James Shelley turned to face Noah. “You’re gonna learn to ski, boy, and you’re gonna learn to do it quick.”

  Noah felt his face flush. Now three people believed he was sixteen. Would the numbers grow until Noah could no longer back out gracefully and admit he’d lied? Would he get himself and his uncle into real trouble just because he wanted to have a little fun?

  It was too late to think about that now. What was done was done. He might as well have a good time. So Noah pushed the worry from his mind, picked up the skis and poles, and followed his uncle out the door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Noah and his uncle climbed the side of one of the mountains in their ski boots until they were at the top of a very long slope. Below him, Noah could see the other boys and their officers, skiing out and away from them, toward another mountain. Mules, loaded down with equipment, plodded along behind the soldiers.

  Noah’s feet and hands were already numb with cold, but his heart was pounding with excitement. His uncle bent down and gathered some snow, squeezing it into a hard clump. Then he stood and rummaged around in his rucksack, finally pulling out a small metal container.

  “Here, boy,” Shelley commanded, handing the tube to him. “This is ski wax. You can start by rubbing this on the bottom of your skis. We use different types of wax depending on the weather.”

  He showed Noah how to apply the wax to the bottom of the wooden skis he
had requisitioned for him. The wax was warm and smooth to the touch and slid on easily.

  When Noah finished with the waxing, his uncle took the boards, knelt down, and showed Noah how to attach them to his leather boots. Then his uncle stood and stepped back.

  Noah grinned and took a step forward, swayed a bit, tried adjusting, and fell hard.

  His uncle let out a loud laugh. “Your balance ain’t too good, boy.”

  Noah frowned, the excitement of learning to ski lessening slightly with the embarrassment of falling so incredibly quickly and the uncomfortable feeling of the seat of his pants growing suddenly wet and cold. “My balance is just fine, sir. It’s the skis that are the problem.”

  His uncle laughed even harder. “Oh, that’s a good one, Noah boy.”

  “It wasn’t a joke,” Noah said angrily, wanting his uncle to stop saying how funny he was when he wasn’t trying to be funny.

  His uncle stopped laughing. “No, I guess it wasn’t. Here, let’s try again.”

  He pulled Noah to his feet and held him still until he was sure Noah was balanced. Then he turned to put on his own skis.

  Noah felt awkward just standing there, afraid to move. In the pictures he’d seen, skiing had looked easy, but the long wooden boards strapped to his feet made Noah feel unwieldy. He shifted his weight to try and get more comfortable, but as he did so, the skis suddenly started to slide out from under him. And he began to move down the slope.

  “Turn your skis into the hill,” his uncle cried out as he saw Noah begin to slip down the mountain. “Into the hill, boy!”

  Noah tried to pound the skis into the snow on the mountain as his uncle had instructed, but instead, he began to pick up speed.

  “Help!” Noah managed to shout through the fear that was now thick in his throat.

  His skis were moving quickly, as if they had a life of their own, and Noah was in their control. He wavered back and forth, as the world flew by. He leaned backward, trying to stop himself any way he could, and then his knees buckled. He sat straight down onto the skis, and the skis kept going like a toboggan racing down the hill. Snow flew everywhere. Pine trees blurred together as he hurtled down the slope.