In the dining room, Ernie came over to seat them. He gave Jack a wink before turning to Mrs. McMasters. “Ma’am, tonight you’ve been invited to the captain’s table.”
“How nice,” she replied. Then she turned to the kids. “You all know the drill: Best manners. Make me proud of you. Do we understand each other?” They each gave a nod.
As they approached the extra-long head table, the captain, Commander Allen, and the other men stood to greet Mrs. McMasters.
“You must be Mrs. McMasters,” said the captain. “How good to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then turned to the kids. “Jack, it’s a pleasure to see you and your sisters again.”
His mother’s eyes flicked over to Jack, clearly surprised. But Rabbit grabbed the conversation, saying, “It’s nice to see you, too, Captain. You have a very nice ship. We like it a lot.”
The captain beamed at her, as did Mrs. McMasters. But she also shot Rabbit a kind-but-clear look, communicating, “You are a very sweet girl, but that is enough out of you, young lady. You are now to be seen and not heard.”
“We had quite a time with the children this morning,” said Commander Allen.
Her smile grew wider, but her glance at the kids said, This had better be good.
Commander Knox and his family, including Alex, were already at the table and were also introduced. As everyone sat down, the two boys managed to get themselves seated next to each other.
The captain jumped right in. “Mrs. McMasters, we were just talking about what great whale hunters these two boys are. I trust you know about their adventure today.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Jack was just starting to tell me about it, but I’d love to hear more.”
Everyone at the table began telling their version. Commander Allen started with the kids’ visit to the bridge. He explained that he’d asked Alex to join them and how they’d all seen what might be whales on the sonar scope.
The story passed to Jack and Alex, who told how they’d used grid search and eventually spotted a whale’s tail and hurried to the rear of the ship for a better look. Jack skipped the part where they’d burst into the kitchen to get to the back deck.
The captain then explained how the boys had spotted not one, but five whales playing off the stern. “That, ma’am, is how I came to meet your children. And thanks to Jack and Alex, a large number of people on the ship—passengers and crew—got to see these fantastic creatures. In all my crossings, this is the first time I’ve ever seen the right whales. Commander Allen and I wanted to take this opportunity to say thanks.”
Once the food came, the officers at the far end of the table began joking about a long-ago operation they’d shared in Italy. They couldn’t agree what the objective had been. Jack’s brain started grinding on the word objective. The more they wrangled, the more he realized he wasn’t sure what it meant.
Without thinking, he broke the seen-and-not-heard rule. Spectacularly. He interrupted Commander Knox. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t quite get it. It seems like every time one of you says that word objective, it has a different meaning. What does objective really mean?”
When Jack broke the flow of the adult conversation, the whole table went silent. Mrs. McMasters glared at Jack, without even hearing his remark. Jack tensed. That woman had such exceptional mom-radar, as well as unbending rules.
Commander Knox looked at Jack and then at Alex as though he’d forgotten they were even at the table.
Fortunately for Jack, before Commander Knox responded, the captain jumped in. “Well, well, I think Jack might have just hit the nail on the head. You’re right, young man. The word objective can get pretty confusing. However, without a doubt it is one of the most important, if most misunderstood, words in the military.” The captain turned to see his officers nodding.
Mrs. McMasters must have sensed things had settled down, because she went back to her own conversation with Mrs. Knox. The moment she did, Jack relaxed.
The captain continued, “Let me explain. When the military goes to war, in order to be victorious, everyone involved must know what he is supposed to do. This is explained to everyone through a simple Objective Statement. And there must be one, and only one, objective, so that no one gets confused about what to do. The challenge is that, when the bullets start flying and the missiles and bombs start exploding, everything gets very confusing. In the heat of battle, it’s hard to remember what you’re supposed to be doing.”
As the officers murmured their agreement, Commander Allen said, “Captain, I could explain it with a story.”
The captain nodded approval.
Commander Allen explained, “D-day was called Operation Overlord, and it was the largest amphibious landing ever attempted in the history of mankind.”
“I’m sorry, but what kind of landing?” Once Jack’s brain was engaged, he went into learning mode, and his need to interrupt simply couldn’t be suppressed.
“An amphibian is a creature that can live both in the sea and on the land. But, in this case, those creatures were the United States military, and the British military, arriving in more than a thousand ships. We were going across the English Channel to attack the Nazis in occupied France. And we were bringing over a million men. It was the most important operation of the war. General Eisenhower was the Overlord commander. So what do you think he came up with as the Objective Statement for Operation Overlord? Remember, it had to be a short statement that all one million men could understand and not forget once the bullets started flying.”
Jack and Alex looked at each other, desperate to come up with something.
Alex ventured, “How about ‘Cross the Channel, get the men on the beach, and attack the Nazis?’”
“Not bad, Alex. Fortunately, General Eisenhower had a lot more time to think about it than you’ve had. General Eisenhower eventually got it down to only five words. His was ‘Enter the Continent of Europe.’”
Commander Allen let the two boys chew on that for a minute. “Do you get what he meant by ‘Enter the Continent of Europe’?”
They both nodded, but still looked a bit confused.
“Okay, let’s see if the meaning of ‘Enter the Continent of Europe’ was clear to everyone involved.” He turned to the officers. “Gentlemen, you know Eisenhower must have talked with the president of the United States about this. What do you think it meant to the president?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, one of them said, “Get to Germany and totally win the war.”
“And to General Patton?”
Another said, “Shoot that son-of-a-B Hitler right in the head.” That got a laugh from all of them.
“And to the colonels?”
“Get to Paris and drink champagne.” More laughter.
“And to the sergeants?”
“Get off the beach and to the closest village that still has beer.”
“And to the lowest private?”
“Just get to the beach without getting shot, and dive into the first foxhole you find.”
When the laughter died down, Allen turned back to them. “You see, boys, an objective can certainly mean many different things to many different people. But let me ask you this: Was Eisenhower’s objective a good one? Was it well done?”
“I s’pose so,” said Jack, “since we were victorious on D-day.”
“I agree. But probably what was most successful about ‘Enter the Continent of Europe’ was that Eisenhower managed to get all one million men going in the same direction. They might have interpreted how far they were going a little differently, but at least they were all headed in the same direction.”
Ernie came over with their main course. But before dinner commenced, Commander Allen concluded with, “Boys, I want you to always remember this. In order for an army to win a war, or a battle, or, for that matter, any operation, no matter how small, there mu
st be one simple objective that everyone can understand and follow once the bullets start flying.”
He and the other officers returned to swapping stories of Italy so many years before
Jack and Alex were in no hurry for dinner to end.
When it was time for dessert, Chef Porteaux and a bunch of his bakers formed up into a small procession and entered the dining room. Leading the procession, two bakers pushed a rolling cart that held a huge cake with a big whale artfully sculpted in the frosting. On it was written:
Thanks
Whale Hunters
Jack and Alex
The captain rose to his feet and took up a table knife. He lightly clinked the crystal sides of two wine glasses. The bright, tinkling sound hushed the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention,” he said in a commanding voice. “This afternoon, some of you had the rare privilege of seeing right whales off the rear deck of this great ship. If you did get to see them, you know it was a truly magnificent sight. However, you might not know you owe that opportunity to the two young boys beside me. And so, ladies and gentlemen, I would ask that you raise your glasses in a toast to Jack McMasters and Alexander Knox, our great whale hunters!” The captain raised his wine glass to Jack and Alex, and everyone did the same.
“Hear, hear!” they all shouted.
“And now I’ll have our excellent Chef Porteaux and his staff share with you the wonderful whale cake they made especially for Jack and Alex.”
Cheers and clapping erupted, not just for Jack and Alex, but also for Chef Porteaux, whose food they had come to appreciate.
When dinner ended, Queenie and Rabbit watched the boys hurry through the dining room together. Queenie said to Rabbit, “Those two think they’re conquering heroes.”
But, truth be known, all Jack wanted to do was make a hasty escape to the evening movie, so he could teach Alex the fine art of sneaking undetected into the sailors’ private theater.
As they left the mess facility, Ernie gave them a small salute, whispering, “Bravo Zulu, gentlemen.”
As the boys saluted back, Jack turned a questioning eye to Alex, who said, “Navy-speak for Well Done.”
The movie turned out to be some lame love story. Fifteen minutes into the show, they’d had enough and bailed. Drifting back to their spot from earlier in the afternoon, they plopped into the easy chairs and began talking about what it might be like living in Germany. After all, that was where the war had been and where so much had happened in their fathers’ lives.
“Not a bad story about General Eisenhower and ‘Enter the Continent of Europe,’” Alex said. “I love those stories.”
“Me, too. I just kinda wish more of ’em had kids.”
“Or at least one,” Alex smirked.
“Actually, my favorite of all time is about a kid.”
“Spill the beans.”
Jack said, “You don’t have to ask twice. One night a couple of years back, this guy named Col. McHenry was over at our house for dinner. People are always coming over ’cause my mom’s a great cook. Anyway, he’d been in World War II just like our dads. After dinner, he told about a French kid who’d helped him during the war.
“It was a spy story, but he called it an intelligence story. Toward the end of the war, when the American and British armies had fought their way across France, the American Army was about to enter Germany for the first time. They were desperate for intelligence on the German defenses. They needed someone to go in and spy on the Germans and determine their strengths and weaknesses. But for the longest time, no one succeeded.”
From the depths of his chair, Alex craned his head to look at Jack. “And?”
“One afternoon, Col. McHenry struck up a conversation with an eleven-year-old French kid who was working behind the bar of a café in the village where the Americans were headquartered. The boy was Jean-Sébastien de la Chaussée. He only spoke a little English, and McHenry only knew a little French, but somehow they managed to communicate. The colonel asked him why he was inside working, instead of out playing with his friends. The kid shrugged his shoulders and said he might as well work, because his parents no longer let him play with his best friend, François.
“McHenry asked if he and François had gotten in trouble. But to his surprise, Jean-Sébastien said it was nothing of the kind. He’d made the mistake of telling his parents that the Germans had reoccupied François’s village. His parents wouldn’t let him go back there. When McHenry learned that François lived only seven kilometers away, McHenry knew this was important intel.
“Jean-Sébastien told McHenry that a couple of days back he’d been on his bike going over there to play soccer. But when he got to François’s village, he saw a German soldier posted at a roadblock. He admitted to Col. McHenry that he had been pretty scared. He didn’t know if he should keep going or turn back.”
Alex said, “This really happened?”
“Word from the bird,” said Jack, holding up his hand as if being sworn in. “What would you have done? Would you have bugged out?”
“Dunno. I hope not. But I know most kids would have. In fact, most adults would. But let me guess. Jean-Sébastien biked right up to the guard.”
“Yup. And he got stopped.”
“And . . .”
“The Nazi corporal on guard duty wasn’t gonna let him pass, but Jean-Sébastien half told/half pantomimed a sad story about needing to see his friend. Eventually, the guard let him through. Interestingly enough, once past the roadblock, Jean-Sébastien went wherever he wanted. No one paid any attention. To them he was just a kid.
“Jean-Sébastien told McHenry that he made it to François’s house, and they played all afternoon. When it came time for him to go home, he chose a trail through the woods to avoid the roadblock. But the woods were crawling with Germans.
“McHenry didn’t expect to get much more from Jean-Sébastien, but asked one last question as he left. Did Jean-Sébastien notice which units of the German Army were in the village? To his surprise, the kid told him the 901st Panzergrenadier. McHenry knew Panzer meant tanks. On his way out the door, McHenry thanked Jean-Sébastien for giving him something to work with.”
“Cool,” said Alex. “Wish we could do something like that.”
“It gets better.”
Grinning, Alex sank further in his chair to enjoy the rest of the story.
“McHenry beelined it for his commander and his unit’s intelligence officer. He asked if they knew anything about the 901st Panzergrenadier. The intel officer seemed shocked that McHenry knew that unit and asked where he’d come across it. When McHenry explained that the 901st might be only seven kilometers up the road—let’s just say he had their full attention.
“The intelligence guy explained that the 901st Panzergrenadier was an armored reconnaissance regiment that was part of the Panzer Lehr, the most elite Panzer tank group in the entire German Army.
“Jean-Sébastien had definitely come up with some critical intelligence. After talking it over, they figured the French kid might just be able get them more intel. That is, if he was willing to risk his life getting it.
“McHenry went back to the café to discuss it with Jean-Sébastien. He got his dad. Monsieur de la Chaussée threw up his hands in refusal. ‘If you’re caught spying, the Germans will either kill you or put you on one of those trains to the East, and we’ll never see you again. And, God forbid, what if they break through and capture this village again? Then they’ll kill or imprison our whole family because you were a spy.’”
“Jean-Sébastien gave that some serious thought. Finally, he pleaded with his father, ‘If I don’t go, there’s even more chance the Germans will capture our village. You, my mother, and my sisters could be killed.’”
Alex asked in a low voice, “He took the job, didn’t he?”
“Yes, Jean-Sébas
tien said he would do the intelligence mission for the US Army. He wanted to help protect his family and his village. His job was to find out anything he could about what was going on behind the German lines.
“Now things really get interesting,” Jack said. “Jean-Sébastien took off on his bike for François’s village. Again he got stopped at the roadblock. But this time, even though this guard spoke better French, his story about going to see a friend didn’t fly. But he was desperate to get past, so he didn’t give up. He just stood there, eyeing the guard. Then he put on his most pathetic face and told the guard it wasn’t just any old friend, it was a girl. A girl that he, well, liked. The guard looked at Jean-Sébastien and sighed, saying something about the French and love. The guard let him pass.”
Alex laughed. “Yes, that boy definitely was French.”
Jack nodded. “Once past the roadblock, just like on his previous trip, he was able to go pretty much wherever he wanted. Jean-Sébastien peddled around the village, checking things out. He reconfirmed that the 901st Panzergrenadier was there. On the far side of the village, he saw two Panzer tanks. But when he biked toward them, a German soldier with a submachine gun waved him off. Jean-Sébastien, not being a slow child, decided not to push his luck with the soldier.”
“And his deadly weapon,” Alex chimed in.
That got a quick grin out of Jack. “From there, Jean-Sébastien went to François’s farm, just outside town, and they headed for the woods to play. And, not play. Jean-Sébastien took a major risk and revealed his mission to François, who might have been secretly pro-Nazi. The kid might have turned him in. But Jean-Sébastien needed his help navigating those woods. Turns out, François wasn’t in league with the Germans. He knew it was dangerous, but he said yes, he’d help Jean-Sébastien.
“They snuck through the forest to where François thought he’d recently heard German voices. He wasn’t certain, because he hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out. They were just about blown away when all around them tank engines suddenly roared to life. Both boys hit the dirt. Engines kept roaring as the boys lay face down on the forest floor. Both feared they were about to be taken into custody. But as the minutes crept by, no one came for them. The initial shock wore off, and they realized they hadn’t been spotted. They cautiously crawled forward on their stomachs.
BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Page 6
