Farewell PFC Polk: The End of a Nightmare (In the Valley of Hope Book 2)

by Richard Weirich

  When Miss Stover returned his wallet, she threw him a curve. “Call me Pat. Maybe I’ll see you again.” And then she smiled.

  He supposed that he had seen her smile before but never like that. Buddy knew that her first name was Patricia but in all the time that he had known her, he had never heard anybody call her Pat. Certainly none of the students, or parents, or other teachers. Interesting, he thought. Interesting indeed. And did he hear right? Did she really want to see him again?

  On the way home, Dickie played with his new toy while Buddy spent his time mulling over the brief encounter at the Newsstand. The Corps had taught him how to defend himself in numerous life-threatening situations. But he was just hit with a power that he didn’t understand. Pat Stover made him feel like the butter his mother left sitting on the kitchen table, soft and out of control. Curiously, only one other woman affected him that way. Sally came to mind. If Miss Stover was just closer to his age. How old was she anyway? Back in high school Buddy calculated that she must be about six years older than him which meant that she must be about 26. Just too old. Guys didn’t date nor marry older women.

  As it happens with vacations, the remaining two days flew by in a hurry. His mother left no stone unturned regarding the preparation of his favorite food dishes. Charlie, Sr., was on his best behavior, not a beer in the house for the two weeks that Buddy was home. And on the final Sunday of his leave, Mable cooked a going away meal and invited a bunch of relatives. Although it went unsaid, there was grave concern about his duty assignment. Even though the Korean War was over, there were still skirmishes, and Marines were getting killed.

  To save Buddy from another Greyhound Bus ride, Woody offered to drive him to the train station in Richmond. Buddy was to return to the air base at El Toro and from there he would join with other Marines to travel via aircraft carrier to South Korea.

  Woody meant well, but upon further consideration, he lacked confidence that his automobile could withstand the trip to Richmond. Again, he turned to his father for help, which resulted in a borrowed pickup truck.

  Buddy’s train departed early on Monday morning, March 28, 1955, which necessitated leaving Strasburg shortly after 2 a.m. Helen just had to go along and refused to leave Dickie behind which meant that four people would be packed like sardines in the front of the truck.

  The highways they traveled were unlighted, and aside from a few stars in the sky, they were prevented from seeing anything except the road in front of them. Helen was in charge of the map and criticizing Woody’s driving. Dickie was so excited about visiting a passenger train station and being allowed to stay up past his bedtime, he remained wide awake. After the instruction of several signs that read, ‘Watch for Falling Rocks,” he was on the lookout for danger around every turn. However, thanks to his Marine Corps experience and training, Buddy was comfortable with sleeping while sitting up.

  As Woody navigated the uphill grade of a mountain road, the truck’s engine suddenly stopped. In the darkness of night, aided by a flashlight, Woody opened the hood looking for the cause of the problem. Helen’s first thought was that her stupid husband forgot to put gas in the truck. He quickly dismissed that notion. “Filled up in Front Royal.”

  Buddy joined him in front of the truck, but he was clueless at anything that had to do with an automobile. But he did know a thing or two about an aircraft engine. He and Woody stared at the motor while Helen fussed.

  Dickie reminded his mother of what his grandmother had taught him to do in adverse situations. “Mammaw said we should pray,” which he did, silently, while Helen mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

  Believing that everything was as it should be, Woody returned to the cab and turned the key. Immediately, the truck started.

  “See, Mama. I told you. All you have to do is pray.”

  Woody again stepped out of the truck to allow Buddy back on the seat beside of him. Soon as he was in place, Buddy recognized the problem. When he fell asleep, his knee hit the ignition switch, causing it to turn off.

  “See,” he said, pointing to his knee against the ignition. “Problem solved.”

  Before he stepped onto the train, Buddy hugged his sister and brother in law goodbye. Then he turned to Dickie and tickled him. By now, Dickie knew what that meant. He reached into his pockets and withdrew two quarters.

  Buddy looked back at his family, waved, and yelled over the loud noise of the train station, “See you later.” And as the train pulled away he was reminded of just about the only Shakespearean quote he knew, ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’ His English teacher once told him that the context of the quotation from Romeo and Juliet was in expectation of when they would meet again. But for now, there was nothing sweet about going so far away from home.

  Changing Directions – April 1955

  There’s a familiar expression in the military, “Hurry up and wait.” And so it was for Buddy once he arrived back at the El Toro Air Base. True enough, he was slated for transfer to South Korea, but the target date kept moving. Orders came down, he got ready, and then another directive was released that announced a change of plans. The problem was the uncertainty about the Marine Corps’ involvement in South Korea. The Korean conflict ended in June of 1953, but there was still a military presence in ’55 and questions remained regarding strategic placement for his outfit, Mag-33.

  While Buddy waited, he received some good news. He was promoted to Private First Class, which meant a whopping pay increase of about $15 per month. For most of his Marine Corps friends that translated into more money to spend. For Buddy, it meant more cash to save.

  Finally, on April 1, 1955, Buddy boarded the carrier Philippine Sea bound for his new duty station in Seoul, South Korea. The journey took nearly two weeks and when he arrived he was greeted with another change in plans that came as quite a surprise. Not only was he immediately being rerouted to a different duty station at the air base in Iwakuni, Japan, but he was faced with an entirely different job assignment. After Boot Camp, Buddy trained for six months as an Air Tech with an ordnance specialty and then worked in that designation for another six months. But now, out of the blue, he was going to be assigned to a Military Police unit, a job for which he had not been trained.

  Again his high school English teacher was to thank for his response, something from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade. “Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do and die.” It was also a quote he frequently heard from his DI in Boot, who insisted that it was actually a quote from a brave Marine from long ago.

  A short flight across the Sea of Japan and Buddy landed at his new home on the Japanese island of Honshu. It was hard to believe that just ten years before, the nearby town of Hiroshima was leveled by an atomic bomb, hastening the end of WWII. In light of that revelation, he was amazed at the beautiful landscape and he imagined how his mother would be thrilled by the many varieties of colorful flowers that filled the air with a sweet perfumed fragrance. However, the air base at Iwakuni provided more familiar surroundings including the barracks to which he was assigned.

  When he reported for MP duty, a sergeant handed him a protocol manual and told him to study it and that he would be tested on the material in two days. Upon opening the book, Buddy saw immediately that he was in trouble. The course was designed to be covered over a 13 week training period. There was no point in pleading for more time. His job as a Marine was to find a way to get it done. So, with the help of more coffee than he had ever consumed in his life, he studied and passed the test, or so they told him. The following day he joined his Military Police unit and by the end of the day, he received his first patrol assignment.

  For a while, Buddy was dissatisfied that the Marines had taken him from the job for which he had been trained. No reason was given other than ‘this is the way it is.’ He thought that his performance was above reproach. Maybe he got on somebody’s wrong side. However, after a few days as an MP, he had a different perspective. He was a stickler for fo
llowing rules, not only in the Marines but life in general. His mother saw to that. Right and wrong were clearly defined and he rejected the notion that there are gray areas. Consequently, if he believed that if the law should be followed, then why not enforce it?

  Three days into the new job, Buddy was assigned to the guard post at the front gate.

  “You don’t know me, do you?” said one of the Marines assigned to the guardhouse.

  Buddy looked at the man and sized him up. “Can’t say that I do, but you do look familiar.”

  “Think back to West Point, Virginia…two years ago.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Eddie? How are you?” Eddie Johnson wasn’t on Buddy’s list of favorite people since he tried in just about every way imaginable to get Buddy fired from his job with the state of Virginia. “When did you join the Corps?”

  “Comin’ up on 18 months.”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all,” said Buddy as he walked out the door to check an ID.

  When Buddy stepped back inside, Eddie addressed the painful truth. “Look, Charles. I owe you an apology. Can’t really say why I treated you the way I did but it was wrong. I had some hard lessons to learn in Basic Training. Got sent back twice to get my head on straight which I think did me a lot of good. Never thought I’d see you again and have the chance to make it right. I hope you can see it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “That’s not a problem. You’re forgiven,” said Buddy. He never held any animosity toward Eddie. Justice was rightfully served and he wasn’t harmed.

  “If not for the Corps, I don’t know where I would be today. Here I am, enforcing the law rather than breaking it.”

  “I still can’t get over us meeting up like this again,” said Buddy, who had been hoping to make some new friends in the land of the rising sun. If Eddie really had changed then why not him? He definitely didn’t appear to be the obnoxious jerk that he had remembered. So Buddy, who had a tendency to be too trusting, let his guard down, and it wasn’t long until they were talking like old friends.

  Eventually, Eddie got around to a subject that Buddy would have preferred to avoid. “Whatever happened between you and that waitress in West Point?”

  “Not much to tell,” lamented Buddy. “At the end of that summer Sally went back to college and I went home. Never saw her again.”

  Eddie knew more about Sally than he would ever want to tell. When he found out that Buddy and Sally were no longer a couple he hunted her down at college and pursued a relationship with her which failed miserably. Satisfied that Buddy had no knowledge of the incident, Eddie changed the subject. “Seen the sites around Iwakuni yet? Be happy to show you around.”

  Buddy had not even left the base since arriving little more than a week before so when Eddie offered a tour, he accepted. He knew his folks back home were worried about him. Surely some photographs of the beautiful island would help allay their fears.

  That night, Buddy lay on his rack thinking about Sally and feeling remorse for the way that he had rebuffed her attempts at reconciliation. In the fall she would begin her senior year at William and Mary, assuming nothing had changed. Evidently she had moved on and found somebody else. He still didn’t understand his motive for rejecting her. Maybe it was all about protecting himself from being hurt again but, more likely, his intent was payback for the pain he had suffered. If it was the latter, then he owed her an apology. But how? A phone call? A letter?

  The next day, Buddy entered a base telephone booth with a pocket full of change and dialed Sally’s home number. Unexpectedly, Sally answered after the first ring.

  “Hello,” said Sally.

  “Hi, Sally,” said Buddy in nervous anticipation of her response to his call.

  “Who is this?”

  “Charles Polk.” And then there was a long silence. “Are you there?”

  “Uh, yeah. Just kind of surprised. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I just wanted to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For not responding to your letters. I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I’m very sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. It was my idea to break up. Just thought when you didn’t write back that I had missed my chance. So, how are you? Where are you?”

  “Iwakuni, Japan.”

  “Oh, my gosh. What are you doing there?”

  “Kind of at the mercy of the Marine Corps. Don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  Their repartee started slowly as they both chose their words carefully, each guarding their emotions. But it didn’t take long for them to realize that this was a conversation that they both needed as caution gave way to unbridled excitement.

  An operator interrupted requesting more money for an extended conversation. Buddy obliged and the talk continued.

  “So good to hear your voice,” she said. “I wish I could see you again.”

  With those words, Buddy was fully persuaded that he still had feelings for her. When two people catch up, who were once very close, it’s as if the missing years are instantaneously erased. In only a few moments they were right back to where they left off, and best of all, neither one of them were dating.

  She was disappointed that she had missed his recent leave and that there wouldn’t be another opportunity for them to get together until sometime in 1956. “Send me pictures. Lots of pictures,” said Sally.

  “Of course, you could always come over here.” Buddy couldn’t believe what he just said. His request was completely out of character. A single girl coming half way across the world to visit a Marine. His mother would have a cow. But before he could retract the offer, Sally responded.

  “That would be wonderful. I’ll start saving my money. And by the way, don’t you have a birthday coming up next month?”

  “Wow. You remembered that?” said Buddy as he pulled more change from his pants pocket to see if he was prepared to add more time to the call.

  “I’ve never forgotten. May 30th. You’ll be 20. How about I call you on your birthday? Is there a number through which I can reach you?”

  “No, at least not that I know about. But I can call you.”

  “I’ll be waiting by the phone. Just hate to have to wait that long to talk to you again.”

  “I’ll write you a letter.”

  “One measly little letter?”

  “Lots of letters,” said Buddy, who was already thinking about starting his first composition immediately following this phone call.

  “Catch me up on everything I’ve missed,” replied Sally.

  “Only if you promise to do the same.”

  “You got it.”

  Again the operator requested a deposit but this time, Buddy ended the call. He hurried back to his quarters and wrote a letter, the first of many to Sally Duffy. And he started to ask a lot of questions of the married Marines, whose families were living with them in Japan.

  A giant piece to the puzzle of Buddy’s life was now in place. He realized that he had been grieving over lost love for almost two years. Suddenly, everything looked better: his job, his future…everything. Like the rising sun over the mountains of Honshu, the light of hope was shining brightly.

  On Saturday morning, April 23, with the sound of Sally’s sweet voice still playing in his mind, Buddy walked to the Base Exchange. His mission was to find a birthday gift for his dad. Since he had no experience with shipping from the Far East to the U.S., he was concerned that the present would arrive too late for the May 3rd, birthdate. Better late than never, he reasoned. But his dad was so hard to buy for. Eventually, he found a pair of work boots and a jacket that he thought would be satisfactory.

  Later that afternoon, Eddie picked up Buddy for a tour of Iwakuni. The fact that Eddie had a car seemed strange to Buddy since only a few Marines had access to their own vehicles. Then when Eddie showed up in a well-kept Navy Blue 1952 Chevy Skyline, Buddy was, even more, curious.

  “My dad owns an auto dealership in the states. He had it ship
ped to me for Christmas,” said Eddie while Buddy checked out the immaculate interior.

  “Lucky, you.”

  “Yeah, suppose I am pretty lucky,” said Eddie while turning left onto a highway. “First we’ll pick up Sakura and then we’ll head over to the Kintai Bridge.”

  “What’s Sakura?” asked Buddy thinking that it might be some sort of Japanese food. His brief encounter with local cuisine had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, literally.

  Eddie laughed. “Sakura is my Japanese girlfriend.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Sakura means cherry blossom. Too bad you didn’t get here earlier in the month when the blossoms were in full bloom. It’s really something to see.”

  “I’ll bet. Does your girlfriend speak English?”

  “A little. She might have a friend if you’re interested.”

  “I think I’ll pass,” said Buddy, still thinking about Sally and choosing to keep his newly rekindled contact with her under wraps. “Guess there aren’t many American gals over here.”

  “Not many but Japanese women are outstanding. You would be amazed.”

  “How so?”

  “They treat their men like kings. They are completely submissive. Will do whatever you want and they never ever talk back.”

  Buddy thought about what it would be like to be around a girl who didn’t speak her mind. Actually, he thought it sounded kind of boring. “I think I prefer women with a little more spunk.”

  “This is better, I promise.”

  Up ahead Buddy could see a young girl dressed in traditional Japanese attire, standing by the road.

  “There she is now,” said Eddie. “That’s Sakura.”

  Sakura was tiny, Buddy guessed, no more than 5 feet tall. Up until recently, he had never seen anybody like her, except in the National Geographic publications they kept in the high school library.

  “Ohayō go Zai masu,” said Sakura as Eddie opened the car door for her.

  Since she looked at Buddy when she spoke, Buddy felt obligated to respond. All that came to mind was, “Hey. How goes it?”