Called to Arms Again: A Tribute to the Greatest Generation

by J. L. Salter

  “The foreman sent them off the job. Just left their equipment where it was and took off.” Pete sighed heavily.

  Irene had been trying to get her husband’s attention with facial expressions and throat-clearings. But Pete was too engrossed in his conversation with Chet.

  Mitch, sitting nearby, saw the concern on Irene’s face. “What’s wrong, Missus Henley?” He looked around, expecting to see smoke or something.

  “Some women screaming and running up that hill.” Irene pointed out the front door. “Big trucks out there on the other street and strange men loading things. Some have guns.”

  It was a complete report, as far as Irene’s own grasp of the situation went, but it sounded almost like gibberish. Mitch ran it through his head again quickly. “You mean, some guys with guns are robbing houses?”

  Irene nodded, her eyes starting to well up.

  Rather abruptly, Mitch extracted Ellie from the kitchen. “We got some trouble.” He gave her the condensed version.

  Ellie hustled out the front door, jogged across the lane, and peered down the hill and around the curve. “Well, it sure ain’t the Bless George Welcome Wagon.” She hurried back across Placid, into the living room space and brought Chet over to the front door.

  It took Chet longer to move that distance, but he soon stepped outside and stiffly walked the distance to Leo’s deck. He surveyed the situation quickly. “Whatever they’re doing, it ain’t no stinking drill.”

  Mitch appeared beside him. “They’re obviously not here to help some old folks move.”

  “They’re wiping out all them duplexes down there.” Chet motioned with his right thumb.

  Kelly had rejoined them outside and clutched Mitch’s arm tightly. “And clearly, they’re gonna take this street when they get through with those others.”

  Chet looked up the hill toward the west end of Placid Lane. Then he looked east again, down the steep curve toward the ominous vehicles. “With that Cordial road closed because of the back-hoe trench, and the north loop not open yet, I guess this is the only street they can get through with them big ole trucks.”

  “Couldn’t they back out the other way?” Mitch pointed northeast. “And up to Great Vista?” To see that larger road, he stood on his toes but it didn’t help.

  “Not if they want to rob the rest of these units up here. Which they assuredly do.” Pete had appeared right behind them. “They’ll need this street in order to reach the units on Cordial and Serenity so they can load up the rest of whatever they can carry in those vans.” The Henley condo was in the middle of the fairly long, curving Placid Lane. “We’ve got high ground, for the moment, unless those punks get past us.”

  Leo the Liar heard the ruckus and shuffled his considerable girth across the street until he stood beside the alarmed guests on his own deck. He looked directly at Pete. “There’s a big orange and white truck sitting way down there, and some other trucks behind it. Guys with guns are stealing stuff.”

  “Yeah, we know.” Pete patted his shoulder twice. “We believe you, Leo.”

  “You do?” Leo’s tales had been proven right a few other times over the years, but people only remembered the ones which didn’t pan out. The expression on his face was a mixture of vindication and puzzlement. Also a hint of excitement.

  “We need to contain those robbers,” Pete said, pointing for emphasis. “We’ve got to keep their vans from moving this direction and keep them away from our houses.”

  Mitch stood on his toes again to count rooftops. “Looks like they’ve already cleared out three or four households.”

  “I figure they’re heading south ta get the rest along Pleasant,” Chet pointed with his thumb, “before they make the turn on your street.”

  “Hope so. We’re going to need some time to protect the upper half of Placid, the units on Serenity across from the nursing home, and nearly all of Cordial.” Pete ticked off those three sections on his fingers.

  “What do you mean ‘protect’?” Mitch looked around. “Just call the cops.”

  “Everybody in law enforcement is fretting with the blasted drill. If we can even reach them — the phones are still out, by the way — they’d just figure our report was part of that drill matrix Roger was talking about. I don’t count on the cops getting here before those thugs leave with everything of value in this entire neighborhood.” Pete looked him directly in the eyes. “But if we draw a line and stop them here, we’ll save maybe four dozen households. I say we protect the units they haven’t hit yet, including mine.”

  The host’s speech silenced the suggestion about police, but it didn’t help Mitch understand what was about to happen.

  Chet leaned closer. “What ya got in mind, Pete?”

  “Block them, delay them, and make them keep their heads down.”

  Kelly edged in closely. “Then what?”

  “Fight, if we have to.”

  “With what?” Chet held up two arthritic fists.

  “We got guns. If it comes to it, we’ll shoot them.” Pete had been looking all around him, watching the enemy, and thinking. “We got natural defenses on the north side with those stretches of fence and locked iron gates on North Serenity, those big mounds of fill dirt, and the cellar excavations they’ve started. On the far south end, they’re blocked by that collapsed culvert and repair ditch. On the east end of Cordial, there’s the open trench for new utility lines. They can’t get the trucks over any of that. So, like Chet said, this is their only route.” Pete motioned the bowed length of the inclined street which passed in front of his place. “Like it or not, they’re heading this way… up Placid.”

  “Won’t be ‘placid’ much longer.” Mitch started to head back inside but Chet grabbed his elbow to detain him.

  “Got a plan, Pete?” Chet was still holding Mitch’s arm.

  “Best way to slow them down is barricade the street.” Pete’s hand chopped the air vertically. “Right there, from the outside corner of Leo’s garage to the outside corner of mine.”

  Chet handed his keys to Mitch. “Move my truck sideways in the middle of the street.” He grabbed Earl and told him to move his long yellow Cadillac, nose to the north and front wheels against the curb.

  Earl started to balk, but Chet cleared his throat— really loud — and motioned with his thumb. Often, Chet didn’t even speak a syllable. His throat-clearing sometimes transmitted the entire message.

  Earl did what he was told.

  On the back side of the Henleys’ condo, Wade stood on the small deck looking out toward the large sloping common area between Placid and Cordial. He realized everyone else had gone inside so he entered to learn why. He elbowed his way past the throng near the front door and ambled across Placid to the cluster standing on and around Leo’s deck. Everyone’s faces showed obvious concern. “What’s going on? Nobody’s eating no more and I got brats out the wahzoo.”

  Kelly gave him a quick low-down.

  Wade hustled back through the Henley house, told Irene to deal with all the meat — what he’d already grilled and the pieces not yet started — and exited to the rear deck. He wiped his hands on his apron, whipped it off his neck, and tossed it on the deck railing. “Can’t enjoy your brats when you’re being robbed.”

  He drove his truck around the end of Pete’s extended retaining wall and then along the east side of their duplex. Then Wade nosed his pickup truck forward until it touched the tail bumper of Chet’s. That left Wade’s trailer up on the Henleys’ front lawn partly blocking access around the south end of the quickly-forming barricade.

  Without being asked, Leo waddled from his deck around to his garage. Watching both mirrors nervously, he backed out his big, powder blue, 1998 Ford Crown Victoria. Reaching the street surface, he stopped, looked around both ways, checked his mirrors again, and swung way wide, ending up in the middle of Placid Lane and facing the barricade. Enough backwards driving for one day. He pulled hard left on the steering wheel and maneuvered the large Ford just to the ea
st side of the two pickups — covering the very small gap between the back of Chet’s and the front of Wade’s. That completed the barricade on the paved portion of the street, but there was nothing blocking the north end of their barrier line — Leo’s driveway and lawn.

  Leo started to slide across the front seat in order to exit his car, but put the key back in and switched to accessories. He lowered all four windows, looked around the inside of his vehicle, then got out the passenger side and shut the door.

  Pete noticed and caught Chet’s eye. Then he motioned with his head toward Chet’s truck.

  Chet understood because he’d also watched Leo. He grabbed Diane’s arm and told her to lower his truck windows. “Fix Wade’s windows, too.” Chet’s doors had hand cranks. Wade had left the keys in his truck’s ignition in case it needed to be moved to a better location while he was elsewhere.

  When Diane finished with the windows on both pickups, she returned to Chet’s side and asked why.

  “Don’t need no extra busted glass spraying over everybody. Front glass has a layer of plastic in it. Side glass just explodes and shatters.”

  Diane was also intensely curious how Pete’s single, brief nod could have conveyed to Chet what he was thinking. It was almost like a mobster movie where the mob chief nods his head and three guys jump up and exit, all knowing exactly what they’re supposed to do. How do men do that?

  Irene had Florence and Helen collecting the cooked but unserved food. Nobody seemed hungry anymore. She put the meat and dairy-related dishes in the fridge and covered the other prepared food with foil or wrap. An unknown number of gangsters with trucks might be robbing every condo in her neighborhood, but Irene didn’t want the food to spoil.

  Ellie hustled everyone back inside. Pete got the guests’ attention and informed them what was happening. He asked for a volunteer scout. Stanley rose, a bit self-consciously, and absent-mindedly fingered some of the larger liver spots on his forehead.

  Pete quickly took him aside and assigned him to the south side of Placid, behind the second duplex which contained Gerald’s unit. “Stay between the buildings and don’t let them see you. As soon as those trucks move again, get word back to me. We have to know where they are.”

  “I’ll need a runner.” Stanley might have served all his combat time operating radios on B-29s, but he’d also pulled plenty of guard details.

  Pete’s firm hand clutched Joe’s shoulder. “Joe, this is Stanley. You’re his runner. Get going.” First rule of soldiering: never be near a sergeant who needs ‘volunteers’ for a detail.

  Joe looked back at Diane with such a plaintive expression that Diane struggled whether to cry or laugh. It came out as a mix.

  On the way to their new outpost, Stanley stopped at the small garden behind Earl’s condo and urinated. “My medicine makes me pee a lot.” Joe had not asked for an explanation. “Plus, Earl says it’s good for his garden.”

  Joe truly wished he’d just stayed home today.

  While Pete was occupied, Ellie spoke to the remaining guests. “We need two volunteers to move along the houses on both sides of this street and spread the word to folks not knowing. If they kin hurry, maybe they’ll stand a chance behind our barry-cade.”

  Frank stood up from the couch. Nearly at the same time, Gerald rose from the dining table. Ellie motioned them to approach and each did, quickly.

  “You need to check the other neighbors below here.” Ellie pointed down Placid’s curving incline toward the eight duplexes to the east. “And bring them up the road here behind our barry-cade. If you kin reach any of them duplexes down on Pleasant Street, try to warn them too. I’ll send some women to the houses up above us.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Go along the back of the buildings, so you cain’t be seen. Tell them to close their Bless George garage doors all the whole way down, lock up them front and back doors, and come up here right now. Tell them bring any guns they kin find.”

  Both nodded again.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Who are you all, anyway? Don’t believe I know you.”

  “Frank…”

  “Gerald…”

  Both thrust their hands forward, but Ellie waved them off. “No time to shake now.” Hands already extended, they just shook with each other, despite having been diagonal neighbors for over two years. “You all not planning to run off, are you?”

  Gerald was offended. “I left some cash in my dresser drawer.”

  “I need to get little Polly,” explained Frank.

  Ellie looked at both while she spoke to each. “Well go get yer money and yer Bless George parrot, but hurry and warn all them folks.”

  Frank clarified, “Polly’s an AKC Sheet-Sue.”

  “I don’t keere what kind of bird. Bring her on up and we’ll holt her in Pete’s garage.”

  Frank turned and shrugged. “I’ll take the north side.” They both departed quickly.

  Ellie grabbed Pete’s arm. “You plan to warn them folks on the street down yonder?” She pointed toward Cordial, to the south.

  “I’ve re-thought that. The utility trench blocks their east end, so there’s no way those hoodlums can get trucks on that street unless they break through our barricade. That trench is actually a better barrier than we have up here and theirs doesn’t even need to be manned.” He paused. “I say we’ve already got our hands full and we let them be. We need all our resources here.”

  Ellie shrugged. It wasn’t like her to admit a man was right about something, but she thought Pete might be, just that once.

  Across the street, from Leo’s deck, Kelly spotted a six-foot step ladder leaning against the rear brick wall. She moved it up to the deck and positioned it where she could barely see around the back of the condo while holding on to the edge of the roofline. Standing on the ladder’s top, not recommended in bright orange lettering, she could see some of the intruders’ activity. She counted the thugs in trucks and on foot: seventeen so far, moving very slowly along the street. They stopped at every house the small kid had opened and emptied each of valuables. It was probably money, silver, and jewelry, but she also saw them loading what looked like expensive electronics and fur coats.

  Kelly noticed Pete had returned and was standing behind her on the deck. “You got any binoculars?”

  “I loaned them to my son-in-law during the summer. All I got is a spotting scope.” He’d brought it with him. “Figured it might come in handy.”

  “Thanks.”

  Pete noticed her precarious perch. “Be careful up there. Not supposed to stand on the top.”

  She ignored his verbal warning as she had the orange lettering. With the scope, Kelly followed Great Vista Boulevard from the complex with groceries, hardware, banks, restaurants, et cetera, and spotted a small pickup truck blocking the road which entered the Community. The little truck was facing outward and had two thugs sitting inside. That brought the total to nineteen criminals.

  A large engine started. The orange and white moving van made its way southwest along North Pleasant. It advanced roughly a hundred feet, from about the middle of one duplex to the middle of the next, and then stopped. The engine continued to idle.

  Kelly carefully climbed from the top of the step ladder. “Why this neighborhood?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud.

  Roger had appeared on Leo’s deck and stood next to Pete. “Well, it’s a relatively new area, couple of years old. Just now maxing out the duplexes in the existing section and carving out a new loop. They look very affluent.”

  Pete cleared his throat at Roger’s generalization.

  Roger ignored it and continued. “Plus, there’s no through street, so the people here are relatively cut off.” He motioned his head toward the woods to the north. “That’s what thieves look for: isolation and restricted access. Plus the elderly are stereotyped as helpless and compliant.”

  Pete shook his head briefly and then made his way off Leo’s deck. He crossed Placid only after looking both w
ays.

  Kelly continued to stare in the direction of the criminals. “I guess these elderly residents out here are pretty easy marks.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Roger frowned.

  “Why now?” Kelly turned to face him. “Middle of the day on a weekday.”

  “The drill has everybody occupied.” Roger leaned way over the deck railing and tried to peer around the condo again. “In the couple of hours it takes them to clear out these hundred and twenty-some households — assuming they brought enough manpower — no authorities will be even close to responding to this real alarm because of all the false alarms built into the county-wide drill.”

  Mitch suddenly appeared on the deck, noticed the ladder, and climbed up three steps. He looked back down the street to the east. “They’re probably here just for the valuables. I doubt they want any bloodshed.”

  Kelly handed the scope to Roger, beside her. “I saw some guns down there, Mitch. They sure look like they’re willing to play rough.”

  Part Three

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wednesday at 12:45 p.m.

  Opposing Force

  Foss surveyed his mercenary troops and had to admit he was favorably impressed at their performance thus far. Most seemed on task and hopefully they’d pick up speed as they got the hang of things. But Foss still worried about the two new lookouts, whom Herve had left in the pickup at the sole opening to their target neighborhood. Were they popping pills… or breath mints? Though Foss hadn’t had time or opportunity to check them closely, he held a notion that the lookouts were already partly ripped. “That’s all I need,” Foss said to himself. “Rear guards that’re halfway stoned. Blitz, blitz, blitz.”

  As late as October it was probably unnecessary for residents to leave their garage doors up a foot or more to let out the heat, but several people had done so anyway, and the little boy continued to shinny through those small openings. For any he couldn’t squeeze into, he spray-painted a red X on the front door and moved along. He’d already handled the four condos of two duplexes on one side of the northernmost stretch of North Pleasant. Then he stopped for a breather to see how far behind were the much older friends who’d brought him along on this spree.