BRAT and the Kids of Warriors

by Michael Joseph Lyons

  On the way to their first game, everyone on the bus was laughing and yelling and having a great, old time. Everyone except Jack. He wanted to be anywhere except on that bus. He was envisioning all the other kids playing with the skill of Major League baseball players. They would be flawless. Only he would be the idiot who couldn’t play ball.

  However, once the game started, it didn’t exactly go as he’d anticipated. Being in an actual game was a lot different from practice. Kids were making all kinds of errors. Balls were being dropped, under thrown, and over thrown. Few kids even got a hit when they came up to bat. In fact, most of them froze up, not even swinging at the ball. And the pitchers weren’t much better. They walked a lot more kids than they struck out. The coach was trying to stay positive, but every kid knew he wanted to pull his hair out.

  Fortunately for Jack, by the bottom of the fifth, only one kid had actually managed to hit a ball out in his direction, and even Jack’s grandmother could have scooped up that one. It was a slow-rolling grounder. As for batting, early in the second inning, Jack struck out. He was sure the coach was going to cuss at him, but instead he said, “Keep at it, Jack. You’ll get it.”

  The coach might have been okay with it, but when Jack walked back to the dugout, everyone was avoiding eye contact, and he heard someone whisper, “McMasters stinks.”

  Jack came back up to bat in the bottom of the sixth. They were losing three to one. He was so nervous he struck out again. This time he figured even the coach would be pissed at him.

  “Crap, McMasters. You’re pathetic,” yelled Kerrigan. “You can’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

  That’s when the coach had had enough. He stormed over, not to Jack, but to Kerrigan. He bellowed, “Look at me! All of you look at me, right now! Shut up, and listen up!”

  For a moment there was dead silence.

  “At least that guy,” and he pointed right at Jack, “has what it takes to swing at the ball. You’re never going to get a hit if you don’t swing. You want to know pathetic? I’ll tell you pathetic. Pathetic is not having the nerve to swing at the ball!”

  After that, no one said another word about Jack. But when he went to the plate in the bottom of the eighth, things were different. Oh, the score was still three to two, with their team down by one. That hadn’t changed, but Jack had changed. For some strange reason, he was now calm. That annoying voice in his head had suddenly gone quiet. No more, You’re gonna mess this up, Jack. You’re gonna miss, Jack. You’re a loser.

  Even, amazingly, his heart rate slowed. Then it happened. He had the bat cranked back, ready to swing. He was watching the pitcher wind up the throw. Somehow the guy seemed to go into slow motion. Jack watched the ball leave the pitcher’s hand, floating toward him. Jack felt he had all the time in the world to figure out when the ball would get to him, and where it would pass him. This was a math problem, not a vision problem! Math, he could solve. He calmly plotted it all in his head and then swung with everything he had. The bat actually connected. As the hit jarred Jack’s hands, his brain said, Run!

  Jack ran.

  His solid grounder got him to first base. Everyone but Kerrigan cheered.

  Kevin was up next and hit such a long ball, he brought Jack home from first, and himself home, too. The Cooke Barracks Braves actually ended up winning the game, four to three. By hitting his way to first base, Jack had made one of the key runs.

  The bus ride home was a lot more fun than the ride to the game.

  Bouncing along in the seat, Jack grinned at Kevin, remembering how his friend had persuaded him to come back. “Tell me more about those Spartans.”

  Kevin paused to blow one of his giant, pink bubbles. “They were some of the greatest warriors of all time, and pros at tactics. Their heavily armed foot soldiers, the hoplites, had an unstoppable fighting formation.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. “Where is all this military smarts coming from?”

  Kevin ran a hand across his flattop, obviously thinking. “I talked to my dad about the Sevens . . . without actually mentioning them. I asked him a ‘what if’ question. I just said, ‘What if a group of us kids were being attacked by a larger group of kids who were stronger? How could we defend ourselves and beat the bigger force?’”

  “And?” said Charlie.

  “He loves military history and told me how the Spartans were often outnumbered, and if they had tried to fight their enemy one-on-one they would have been crushed. So they would form a special fighting formation called a phalanx.

  To this day, it still means a formation of infantry carrying overlapping shields and long spears. The foot soldiers formed themselves into a square, say ten men in a row and ten rows deep. Instead of relying on their individual strength, they became a single fighting unit, a single stronger force made up of one hundred men.

  They fought as one. In order for an enemy to beat them, they had to break through this tight formation—something that was very hard to do. And if enemies ever did break through, the center of the square would drop back to let them in. Then the square would close up, surrounding the intruder. They would reverse themselves and all attack the intruders at once, overwhelming them.”

  “Now if only there were a hundred of us, we could form a phalanx to deal with the Sevens,” said Charlie, sounding glib.

  But Jack got all excited. “Wow! Imagine a whole army of Charlies, Kevins, Jaylas, and Sams. How most excellent would that be?”

  Kevin burst out laughing. “And just one Jack to lead the army.”

  “That’s our Jack,” Charlie said, grinning.

  Jack laughed, too, glad to be back with his friends.

  20

  The Cost of Freedom

  “Die, you little sucker!”

  “Fry, you pinko Commie.”

  Jack and his crew had pretty much given up playing Monopoly now that it was nice out. Like all the other kids in the neighborhood, they spent most of their free time running around outside. That afternoon, a whole bunch of kids were lying in groups of twos and threes on Kevin’s driveway, magnifying glasses pointed to burn holes in leaves and bits of paper. Even though the magnifiers were the cheap plastic kind, when held just right for a minute or two, a spot on the leaf would start to smoke and then burn right through. The kids had decided during science that day that the magnifying glasses would make excellent laser weapons to destroy America’s enemies, so they took the whole box home overnight for a little extra homework.

  Smoke curled up on one of the dry leaves Kevin had found in the forest behind his quarters. He’d burned the biggest hole yet. He glanced up at Charlie, whose left eye was bloodshot and ringed in shades of yellow and purple. “That eye looks like it got hit by an enemy laser, not Kerrigan’s fist.”

  “I’d pick the laser beam,” Charlie said, wincing when he tried to grin. “It’s a much better story to tell. If I admit that Ryan cleaned my clock, one of his snitches would pass it on, and he’d just come after me again.”

  Charlie was his latest victim.

  Jack frowned. We gotta do something about that guy, he thought for about the hundredth time.

  “Die, Commies, die!” shouted Karen Duncan. She was there on the driveway with Queenie and Liz.

  Jack lay there, smelling the smoke of the burning leaves. His mind shifted from the age-old topic of Kerrigan back to the topic at hand. Strange, he thought. Commies. Why don’t my parents even mention them? He said out loud, “Who are the Commies?”

  “Oh, you know,” said Charlie, “they’re the enemy.”

  “Oh, yeah! Destroying the Commies!” said Kevin, his leaf smoking in a new spot.

  Almost by accident, Jack found out who the Commies really were. After that, the word wasn’t nearly as much fun to say.

  The bigger surprise was who clued him in.

  For the first time, Ingrid had decided to take both Queenie an
d Jack to Göppingen. Queenie protested that she didn’t want someone else tagging along. Jack said the same thing. But there was no budging Ingrid on the idea. She’d taken Rabbit the week before. Now she was taking them. So they both went.

  And that made all the difference.

  They went first to the open-air market, where farmers had set up large folding tables to display everything they’d grown or raised. In between, there were a shoe-repair guy; a woman selling toys; and other vendors with clothes, kitchen stuff, and strange odds-and-ends. As they walked through the market, Ingrid made them tell her the names of everything.

  “Käse,” Queenie said, pointing to a table full of cheeses.

  “Schwarzbrot,” Jack said, eyeing a pile of brown loaves in a baker’s display.

  But Ingrid wagged a finger at him. Incorrect. Then she made him get into a full conversation in German with the baker and have the man explain the names of each and every kind of bread and pastry. Jack should have said, “Pumpernickel,” which in English is . . . pumpernickel.

  They passed some of the farmers’ trucks all lined up next to each other, and Ingrid said ‘Lastwagen,’ which they figured meant trucks. The market finally ended at the big church they’d gone to on Sundays with their dad. Ingrid pointed to it and made Jack tell her all about attending that Kirche on Sundays.

  Jack was reminded of the early days, when Ingrid would point to something and say the word once. Then she’d made him repeat it ten times. The locals had gaped at them like they were flakes. That never bothered Ingrid. She’d march him right back through the market, re-pointing at the various things she’d told him. She just stood there waiting until he came up with the German word. Ingrid’s idea of a pop quiz. If he missed even one, she’d bring him back to where they’d entered and make him start all over again.

  That seemed hard at the time. But it was nothing like being expected to have full conversations with the merchants. Ingrid never, never let up on their German lessons. But at least she kept them from getting boring.

  They made their way to a small Gästehaus for lunch, and one of Ingrid’s girlfriends joined them. It was the first time they’d met Lena.

  Lunch was amazing, because Lena insisted on ordering them Schnitzel mit Pommes frittes und Salat. Both Jack and Queenie were glad to practice those words, so they could order it any time they had the chance. Schnitzel was breaded veal, better than the best chicken nuggets, but twenty times bigger and three times thinner. The Pomme frites were the most excellent french fries. And, of course, salat was salad.

  It was during lunch that Queenie, trying to speak German, asked Ingrid, “Wo wohnen Sie? (Where do you live?)”

  That cracked Ingrid up. “Dummkopf, Ich lebe mit dir. (Dumb head, I live with you!)”

  In frustration, Queenie turned to Jack. “I’m trying to ask her where she’s from. You know, as in where she grew up.”

  “Ach so,” Lena said. Turning to Ingrid, she spoke in rapid German. The two of them went back and forth for a bit. Then, Lena surprised them by speaking English. “Ingrid grew up in Dresden. It is a beautiful city in East Germany.”

  “Did she like it?” asked Queenie.

  Ingrid and Lena said a few more things, again in German, and started laughing.

  “Ingrid says she liked it when she was a little kid. But when she became a teenager, she hated it. She told me Dresden was called Tal der Ahnungslosen, which means The Valley of the Clueless.”

  That got a laugh from everyone. Everyone, except Jack.

  “I don’t get it,” he said.

  “It’s because they weren’t able to get any Western movies and TV, or any West German newspapers and magazines,” Lena said, as if that explained everything.

  “Still don’t get it,” insisted Jack. “And another thing, I also don’t get the part about East Germany and West Germany. I hear people talking about that, but are they really that different from each other?”

  A strange expression came over Lena’s face. Jack wasn’t sure why, but he was pretty sure he’d just said something very wrong.

  Lena’s voice got quiet and even stern. “Jack, you know exactly what I mean. East and West. Communist and Free!”

  This time it was Jack and Queenie’s turn to stare. “That’s another thing,” Jack said, more cautiously. “People say Commies, or Communists all the time, but we don’t know who they are. We know they’re supposed to be the bad guys, but . . .”

  Lena started to look at them as if they were in The Valley of the Clueless, too.

  Ingrid’s eyes darted between Jack and Queenie and Lena. She and Lena went off into their own hushed conversation, too quiet and too quick for Jack to understand. There was no more laughing and joking. Queenie tried to interrupt a couple of times, but Lena just held up her hand, signaling to let them finish. Toward the end, their conversation seemed heated, and Ingrid looked annoyed. She made little chopping motions, as if to cut off further discussion.

  Lena leaned toward them. “Ingrid says we can’t tell you.” Her quiet voice was very sad. Jack just stared at the wet ring his Coke bottle had made on the table.

  It was a long time before Queenie said in a voice as soft and sad as Lena’s, “Please tell Ingrid we are very sorry if we said something wrong. We want her please to forgive us. It’s just that no one will explain things to us. They think we’re too young.” Unable to look Ingrid in the eye, she stared down at her tightly interlaced fingers.

  Eventually Lena leaned over and whispered to Ingrid. Suddenly, Ingrid lifted her hand for silence. Her bottom lip quivered, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Queenie felt so bad that she, too, began to cry. “I love you, Ingrid, and I am sorry you hurt. You don’t have to tell us anything.”

  And then, for the first time ever, Ingrid spoke real English. “But I wish to. I wish to tell you so very badly.”

  Both kids were stunned. Had Ingrid really just spoken to them in English?

  “I remember my first day at The Glass House, Jack. From the start you’ve tried to figure me out,” Ingrid said.

  “Me? What?” I’ve been found out.

  “Oh, it wasn’t what you said. I saw you trying to read my eyes. You try to figure everything and everybody out.”

  “But . . .”

  “It’s not bad, Jack. It’s who you are. So now you’ll know.” She sighed. “My mother and father live in Dresden with my two brothers and older sister. I love them very much. I miss them terribly. I’ll never see any of them again.”

  “How come? Won’t they let you?” asked Queenie. “We want you, Ingrid.”

  “That’s not the reason. It’s not their fault. It’s the way things are. There are two Germanys. At the end of World War II, Germany was split into East and West. The West is where we are now. West Germany was helped by the Americans, and it’s free. You have no idea what free really means. You can’t, because you’ve grown up free. I grew up in the East, and it was not free. The Russians took over East Germany after the war.

  “They, the East Germans and the Russians, are Communists, and the Communists rule everything there. Jack asked what Commie meant. Commie means Communists. And the Communists don’t just control East Germany and Russia, they control all of Eastern Europe, as well as China. That’s half the world. Queenie, Jack, look at me. I couldn’t be more serious. The Communists are your enemy. They want to destroy you.”

  Her quiet words drowned out the talk and laughter beyond their table. The kids stared at Ingrid and Lena. This was the truth.

  Jack imagined the wall-sized map hanging in his classroom. Half the world is my enemy?

  “The adults don’t want to tell you about the Communists because you’re just kids. You’re right, Laura. They think you’re too young, and they don’t want to scare you. I’m worried, too, that I shouldn’t tell you.”

  For a moment they thought she might not co
ntinue. Finally, and very slowly, she said, “I know who I was at your age. I know you’re old enough to know—and need to know so you can be prepared. But if I tell you, it must be our secret. You can’t tell any adults that I’ve told you these things or I’ll get in a lot of trouble. I could even lose my job and have to leave your family.”

  Ingrid would have to leave us? Is knowing worth putting Ingrid at risk? Jack looked at Queenie. They both stared into Ingrid’s purple eyes and nodded that they understood and would never tell.

  She nodded back. “The Communists hate America. They want to destroy it. Which means they need to destroy the American Army. Their objective is to take over all of West Germany, and then the rest of Europe, and then the world. The only thing that stands in the way of the Communists conquering the world is the Americans and their friends.

  “There are over three thousand Russian tanks up on the East German border ready to attack the West. The Communists have far more tanks than the Americans. That frightens me.”

  Since their first train ride through Germany, Jack had sensed an unknown enemy but had mostly tried to ignore that fear. A moment ago, the Gästehaus had seemed so safe. Now Jack glanced from table to table, wondering if anyone was listening in. He felt the threat level increasing.

  “Why would they care about our family?” Queenie asked.

  “Your dad and 4th Armored Division is what is holding the Communist Empire’s tanks back from attacking.”

  Once again, Jack saw himself with Kevin and Charlie looking out over the tank lot at Cooke Barracks. They weren’t just impressive machines. The fate of half the world might be resting on those tanks. Jack shivered. “They can’t do it alone!”

  “You’re right. And they’re not alone. For instance, remember telling me about your friend Alex, from the ship coming over to Germany? Well, his father is helping to prevent an attack from the Communist Empire’s ships.”