Called to Arms Again: A Tribute to the Greatest Generation

by J. L. Salter

  Irene scurried to her kitchen and came back with her shears. “I’m going to want those back, Pete.”

  He ignored his wife and cut the package with considerable difficulty. “Good thing I’m not in a hurry.” Pete finally extracted the devices and turned one switch to the on position. Nothing. “Earl, you got any batteries for these things?”

  “I thought they was in there.”

  “Irene, where’s the…” Pete held it out to his wife. “What kind of battery does it say?”

  She peered at the tiny print. “It wants four Triple-A batteries in each one.”

  “We got any Triple-As?”

  “They’re on my list to buy on first Wednesday.” Irene pointed toward the fridge.

  “Why does everything we really need have to wait ‘til discount day?”

  “Don’t get riled at me, Peter Henley. They ought to have senior discounts every Wednesday.”

  Pete ignored her and then asked loudly, “Anybody got Triple-A batteries that work?”

  “I got some.” Wade headed out to his buggy.

  Norm said he thought so and hurried across the street to look in his garage.

  As Pete waited, he examined the walkie-talkies.

  Shortly Norm returned, out of breath, with two batteries remaining from a four-pack.

  Then Wade reappeared with a complete four-pack. That left only two batteries to be located.

  Irene had checked her kitchen drawers for the third time. “Pete, did you look in all your garage stuff?”

  He hadn’t, but did, and came up with three more. That made the eight they needed plus an extra.

  Wade had already loaded the first radio and was experimenting with how loud static can get before somebody slaps you.

  Pete got the second unit working. “Switch to channel seven.”

  Wade tested transmission and reception with his host.

  “Over and out.” Pete kept one radio. He took the first device from Wade and gave it to Task Force Mitchell. “When the Legion men arrive, leave them this radio. Their cell phones probably aren’t working either and we’ll need to keep comm open with the southern outpost. If these things will transmit that far.”

  Mitch nodded.

  Joe and Stanley, both out of breath, burst through the rear door. Stanley gave the report. “They’re so close we could almost smell their armpits. We pulled back.”

  Pete was right beside his scouts. “Where are they, exactly?”

  “First truck just turned the corner.” Stanley pointed. “Now they’re on your street, along the side of that duplex facing east.”

  “Okay. Okay. Good job.” Pete rubbed his chin. “Those gang-bangers are right where we want them.”

  Several nearby faces showed total astonishment. Surely, none of them wanted any of the gangsters anywhere near Placid Lane. The Sarge didn’t stop to explain.

  Pete grabbed Herb the goat man. “I need you over at Art’s garage, across the street. You keep an eye on those thieves. Once their lead truck gets to the first duplex that fronts Placid they can probably see our barricade, so you hustle over here and get me. Lead truck in front of the first duplex or when a scout obviously spots our defenses. Got it?”

  Herb nodded. “Where you gonna be?”

  Pete didn’t blink. “Out on the line or on my way to it.”

  Herb looked around the room like he felt disoriented.

  “Art’s outside planting mines. He’ll tell you how to get in his garage. Stay back inside the corner and don’t let them see you. Then you come get me.” Pete pointed to his own chest.

  What remained of Herb’s aftershave had a faint goatish smell when he stood close and repeated the order. “Lead truck in front of first duplex or their scout spots us.”

  “Get going.” Pete rubbed his nose.

  Wade clomped through the front door and addressed the gathering. “I need some help with the artillery. Joe, Roger, Kel.” He pointed as he called their names. “Only room fer three. Sorry, Diane.”

  “That’s okay. I’d rather be here at the barrier with a garden implement anyway.” Diane shrugged.

  “Sorry, I’m staying.” Kelly exhaled loudly. “I’ve had enough wild rides in your souped-up golf cart.”

  Wade groaned loudly. “Okay. Roger, grab Joe and let’s go.”

  Joe had just that moment sat down after running to and from the forward observation post three times. But Wade had a persuasive call. Joe had only a second to check whether Irene had left any more cookies near her back door.

  Pete approached Wade, who was already near the sun porch. “I assigned Bill here to head up Task Force Mitchell. He’ll need to hitch a ride to the intersection with Whiskey Road to intercept the Legionnaires.”

  “Task Force?”

  Pete nodded. “Task Force — flanking patrol.”

  Wade looked vaguely jealous. “Okay, no sweat. I’m heading out in a minute. I got to get Vegge-zilla set up to welcome them punks down there.”

  Pete’s NCO voice stopped everyone except Herb, the lookout stationed in Art’s garage. “Hold up. Nobody leave yet. Huddle up real quick. We need a final word before everybody disperses.” He looked around and watched as those who’d been leaving came back over. “Okay. Okay. Best we can tell, those thieves still haven’t even seen our barricade yet. We’re much higher elevation and around that big curve. They’ve been real busy on North Pleasant but they’ve just turned our corner and they’re definitely heading this way. They probably won’t be able to see our defenses until they reach the second or third duplex on this street.”

  “Yeah, but they’ve seen all these residents coming up the street.” Bernie’s thin voice had considerably less impact.

  “They expected people to run. It doesn’t bother them because they clearly know about the big drill. They figure they’ve got plenty of time to get the loot and get out of here before any authorities respond. They’ve made no effort to stop those residents on foot.” Pete looked at each of the huddled faces. “But once they turn the bend of Placid’s curve, they’ll see we’re making a stand.” Some in the audience gulped. “So the element of stealth is essential, as long as we can keep it. Listen to me.” His NCO voice was stern. “No, repeat no, firing. Absolutely no firing. Not of any kind, Lawrence. No firing until they definitely spot our barricade.”

  Mitch spoke up. “How will we know? My task force won’t even be able to see those vehicles while we’re in those woods… or on the way.”

  “I’ll fire three rounds of blanks — bang, bang, bang. Until you hear my signal, no shooting of any kind.” He turned. “And, Lawrence, that means no mortars or other booms.”

  “How are you going to know when to fire the warning?” Art’s turn to query.

  “Herb’s our lookout and he’ll let me know when the gangsters see us. Their surprise will be unmistakable. They think all of us old folks are either hiding in our closets or we’ve already run away.” Pete looked again into their faces. “Any other questions?”

  Bernie raised his hand somewhat tentatively. “What’s gonna happen after they finally see our barricade?”

  Pete surveyed the expectant faces. “Fact is, we don’t know. If we’re lucky, they turn around and leave. But somehow I’m not expecting that. If we’re not lucky, they just start shooting like crazy. That’s possible too, but I’m leaning toward a third possibility.”

  “Spit it out, Pete!” Patience was not one of Wade’s virtues.

  “I figure they’ll try some intimidation first, to scare us away. They’ll probably gather up near our barricade and make a show of force. You see, at that point, they won’t be worried about us as a threat. But that’s partly because they don’t know we’ve got any weapons.”

  “Then what happens?” Roger this time.

  “Then they’ll realize that we’ve got weapons too… and we’re not running.”

  “Then they start shooting?” Wade almost seemed eager.

  Pete shrugged. “Depends on who we’re dealing wit
h. If these are seasoned killers, they’ll probably start blazing away. If they’re petty criminals with no murder on their records, maybe they’ll have second thoughts. Here’s the important thing: the longer we keep them occupied, the better. That gives more time for somebody from the outside to get in here with help. Including John Law.”

  “But how’re we gonna know, out there in that field, what’s going on down here at the barricade?” There was a slight whine in Wade’s voice. “After your three shots, I mean.”

  “I guess this is the best way to say it.” Pete paused to be sure everyone, including Deaf Lyin’ Leo, was listening. “If you hear another shot after my signal, it’s almost certainly them shooting at us. And then we’re probably going to shoot back. You hear a lot of shooting… well, it is what it is.”

  No responses and no further questions.

  Pete surveyed them again quickly. “Let’s hope for the best and get to your stations.”

  Irene stood quickly. “Pete, we really ought to have a quick prayer first.”

  “Right, honey.” Pete usually handled most of the spoken prayers in his home. But when a pastor was present, even a lay preacher like Isaiah, Pete often deferred to that individual. Pete pointed way in the back of the condo’s open spaces and began saying, “Would you lead…?” before remembering Isaiah had already left for higher ground.

  Perhaps Ellie had assumed the host’s finger had indicated her, because she responded. “Lord knows I’ve got a prayer.” She didn’t even pause to clear her throat as a preacher would have.

  Pete was slightly surprised, like when a baby passes gas for the first time.

  Ellie didn’t wait for everybody to bow. “Dear Lord, we all sure hope we don’t have to kill any of them dumb polecats out there, but if they come up here and mess with us, then we sure do aim to push them back. So, we’re hoping they got enough good sense left to turn tail and run back to wherever they come from. We’re real thankful we got friends and neighbors out here pulling together to help these good folks, but it wouldn’t hurt none to have some police out here too. Oh, plus, we hope none of our folks gets hurt bad. Amen.”

  It wasn’t the caliber of Billy Graham, but seemed to cover the situation. Everyone dispersed.

  Earl grabbed his high-pressure sprayer wand and took it outside, where he leaned it against the huge open trunk of his long yellow Cadillac.

  Wade huddled with Roger and Joe near the rear entry to the sun porch. Mitch was near them but by himself, like a NFL field goal kicker on the sidelines. All four of them needed a final word with the Sarge before they left.

  Pete went over.

  Mitch spoke first. “I think I understand what to do once your Legionnaires get here. But how about until then?”

  “After Wade drops you off, Force Mitchell just sits tight and waits. Once Gary and Steve get there, plus whoever else they bring, you move and move fast. Remember: surprise. Don’t let the enemy see you coming around their tails.”

  Mitch’s hands were out, palms up. “What if the whole thing’s over by the time my men arrive?”

  Pete looked him over for a long moment. “Then you’re the luckiest son-of-a-gun out here. Get going.”

  Mitch moved away to the side.

  Wade still had a pressing concern. “How come Mitch is a task force?”

  “I was coming to that, Lawrence. You three men are Task Force Lawrence. And your job…”

  “Wade. Task Force Wade.”

  Pete sighed heavily. It was difficult to be a good NCO with prima donnas in the outfit. “Doesn’t matter. Force Wade. Fine.”

  Wade likely rolled that name around in his brain for a few seconds. Then he smiled slightly. “Oh, what’re we supposed to do after we pelt them hoodlums with my Vegge-zilla to keep their heads down, and after we blow up my bombs to scare ‘em?”

  “Our mission is to keep those gangsters on the other side of our line. Don’t let them have any of these houses up here on the hill. Don’t allow them through our barricade where they can rob these units and the ones over on Cordial. If Force Wade has time on its hands after you complete your assignments, then think up additional ways to keep those criminals pinned down.”

  “What can we do to pin ‘em down?”

  “Improvise, Lawrence, improvise.”

  Wade the Inventor grinned and his eyes lit up. “Okay, Pete, we’ll improvise.”

  When Wade spoke that word, Joe looked like a chill had just gone down his back.

  Kelly joined the anxious cluster near the back door.

  Chet followed. “Pete, ya oughtta give your .45 ta Wade. With just his paint gizmo and that little snake gun, they ain’t got much firepower.”

  Pete’s hand went down to his pistol, holstered on his M1936 pistol belt at his right hip, and he thought a moment. It also had a M1923 magazine pocket with two loaded magazines. He slowly unclasped the belt and handed over the complete rig. “Lawrence, I’m going to want this Colt back in real good shape. I carried that in the war and I don’t plan to lose it now because we got a gang of hoodlums looting houses out here. Understand?”

  “Yessir. I’ll take good care of it.” Wade looked humbled. It was possibly the first time anybody had seen that in his face.

  “And don’t change those hooks on my pistol belt. It fits me just like I want it to.”

  Pete watched that .45 rig move away like it was his premier grandchild trudging up the steps on the first day of school. He shook his head slowly and left to check on the troops about to man their barricade.

  ****

  Kelly could tell Mitch was anxious to get started but she still wanted a moment alone with him. They had just connected again when Diane met them on the rear deck with two garden tools from the wall rack in the Pete’s garage. Kelly reached for the sixteen-tined steel rake. “If I’m staying here on the wall, give me something long, strong, and sharp.”

  Diane kept the hoe.

  Wade held the paintball gun close to his face and frowned. It looked very much like the real .45 he’d just obtained from Pete. “Here.” He handed the recreational pistol to Kelly. “You can put somebody’s eye out with this.”

  “Thanks for nothing. If they get close enough for me to use this or my rake, we’re done for anyhow.” Then Kelly asked to borrow the air horn Wade always took to ball games.

  “What you want that fer?”

  “In case I need a taxi, you big galoot.” Kelly sighed heavily. “Just let me borrow it.”

  Wade descended the steps, retrieved the horn from his souped-up golf cart, and returned to the deck. “It’s the turbo model, so don’t use it inside.”

  She slugged him gently on the arm. “As if.”

  Wade, Joe, Roger, and Mitch began moving away from the deck steps.

  Ellie’s approach from the sun porch halted them. “Mitch, we’re counting on yer flank patrol. You clear on everything?”

  Mitch returned to the deck’s steps. “I’ll be honest, Ellie. Pete picked the wrong guy for this job. And besides that, I think the whole idea of trying to fight that gang is pretty stupid.”

  Kelly gasped and hoped Ellie’s bat was not nearby.

  “Maybe Pete did pick the wrong man for yer patrol, but he ain’t stupid. Leaving his house to that pack of thieves would be stupid. Organizing all these folks to protect these other streets is smart. And brave. You don’t get a Silver Star for being stupid.”

  “Actually, the way I heard it, he ran directly into enemy fire to rescue his wounded lieutenant.” Mitch folded his arms. “Most people would consider that pretty stupid.”

  “You hush.” Ellie slapped his arm, hard. “What Pete did was noble. Noble cancels out stupid. Sacrifice cancels stupid, too. What Pete did was Bless George both.”

  Mitch was obviously chastened. He probably hadn’t really meant to be critical, but he had blurted it out… and likely didn’t know what to say next.

  The look on his face must have calmed Ellie a bit. “Nerves, ain’t it. I know just how you feel.”<
br />
  “I didn’t really mean ‘stupid’.”

  “I know.” Ellie paused. “Bless George, I know.”

  Kelly could feel the tension in everybody’s demeanor.

  In the Henleys’ back yard, Wade waited in the buggy with Joe and Roger. “Mitch, you still want a ride over to Whiskey? Or what?”

  “Yeah, coming.” Mitch kept looking at Kelly as he hurried over from the deck steps.

  Ellie called loudly from the deck, “Watch out for Irene’s big flower bed over yonder!”

  Undoubtedly, Wade hadn’t heard her warning and didn’t notice the flowers already ground down by the fat tires of his speeding golf cart. He left four distinct tracks. Must’ve skidded sideways a bit.

  “What a Bless George meh-uss.” Ellie shook her head and went inside.

  Standing alone on the deck, Kelly held up her hand and kept watching as Mitch and the Wade-mobile disappeared around the far side of Alice’s condo. Though Kelly could no longer see the cart, she knew it travelled the west portion of Placid Lane and around the curve of Serenity Drive. A few moments later, she glimpsed them whizzing past the relatively small frontage of Serenity where there were no buildings. Then the cart, conveying her boyfriend, disappeared again from view. She never even got a chance to say a proper goodbye.

  Realizing her hand was still in the air, she lowered it slowly. Then Kelly made her way back inside.

  ****

  Joint Task Force

  Mitch couldn’t remember a ride that bumpy. Somehow he felt more like temporary cargo than a front seat passenger.

  First order of business was to negotiate the ditch along Serenity Drive to get around the jack-knifed tractor-trailer. Everybody got out except Wade, who jockeyed Old Betsey down and up and back on the road. He took off again almost before everyone’s rumps hit the seats.

  That was the same stretch of road Mitch figured he’d soon be walking on, once the Legionnaires arrived.

  Wade careened past the church, almost to the shoulder of Whiskey Road, where he dropped off Mitch like a delivered parcel.

  “You know what to do when the Legion guys show up?” Sweat dripped from Wade’s full face.