A Midnight Clear

by William Wharton

  “I’m scared, Stan; we can’t risk the squad on a wild-haired guess like this.”

  “Look! If they wanted to kill us, they could’ve done it easily yesterday. They could’ve done it last night when you threw the grenade. If they could lob snowballs in on you, what was to stop them from dropping in a few mashers?”

  “Maybe they’re just nice guys, Stan. There could be some good Germans.”

  “Christ, you sound like Mundy!”

  “OK, I’ll mention it when I call in. Ware will tell us what to do.”

  “Let’s think about it a minute here first, OK? We don’t want any officers screwing things up. We can probably make something good out of all this for everybody if we use our heads.”

  “What’ll we do, surrender to each other simultaneously, take turns walking in with prisoners? It sounds like the fox, the chicken and the grain problem.”

  Shutzer lights up and lights one for me, too, saves a match. By Gordon’s standards, the whole squad’s going downhill. I guess everybody’s feeling the strain. It’s quiet and I swear I hear a violin playing. It sounds like the music of the celestial spheres. I take off my helmet and tilt my head different ways trying to locate the sound. Sometimes it seems to be coming from the tops of the trees. I don’t know whether to mention it or not; Stan’ll be convinced I really have totally flipped.

  “That’s only Gordon, Won’t. Mother found a violin up there with all the junk. This violin’s in a hand-carved wooden case. When Gordon opened it, he did everything but get down on his knees and pray toward Mecca. He says it’s the most beautiful violin he’s ever seen and he’s probably not good enough to play it. I had a big argument with him while you were asleep about how no object can have a memory and what’s the difference even if he plays it or not; for that matter if even I play it. Gordon’s convinced it does something to the wood or the strings and a good violin should only be played by a true violinist. I don’t know whether he’s decided the violin isn’t as good as he thought or he’s better than he says he is.”

  I leave my helmet off. We stand there quietly, listening. Paintings, violin concerts; we’re leading the cultured life. Maybe this is a bunch of high-class Germans trying to make peace. I’m ready to believe anything.

  “Look, Won’t, suppose you and I go out there just to see what’s going on. We’ll play it careful and it’s only the two of us. I’ll take all the risk; you hang up there on the ridge, where we came in, and cover me. How can it hurt to check things out? What if there is a bunch of shit sniffers wanting to give up. Why not?”

  “I should call Ware first. I could just tell him we have a chance to take some prisoners.”

  “And what do you think Ware will do then?”

  “I guess he’ll tell Love.”

  “Then you know Goddamned well Love will come charging out here and arrange the whole affair so he looks like General Patton winning the war single-handed. He’ll probably organize and lead some kind of phony tiger patrol, too. Right?”

  I know he’s right. Max Lewis was on a one-man job, checking a bridge for mines, and got captured by two Germans. In the bombardment, the Germans gave up to him. He trudged in with them and passed through Captain Enders at battalion, who phoned back to regimental headquarters. Love jumped in a jeep, drove out, then went stomping into division with his side arm out covering the prisoners. Lewis pulled three days’ loafing around the kitchen truck, but Love got himself a Bronze Star.

  “Sure, Stan. That’s the way things are in the army. We can’t do anything about it. Wait a minute; what time is it? I have to make the phone-in.”

  We’re five minutes over. I crank and get Mother.

  “Everything OK out there, Wont?”

  “Sure, things’re fine here, Vance. Shutzer’s working out details for the armistice. He’s giving the Germans Texas, Mississippi, Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama, North and South Carolina for all of Germany, including France.”

  “Honest, come on, Wont; what do you think’s happening?

  “Maybe the Germans know they have us trapped and are playing cat-and-mouse. Once there, when it was quiet, I thought I heard big artillery from the south and even behind us. Do you think the Germans could be building up some kind of attack?”

  “Relax, Vance. The only thing I’ve been hearing is Gordon playing his violin. I’m beginning to think the war might be winding down.”

  “Lord, I hope so. I’ve about had it.”

  “Just get some sleep. And no more taking two guard schedules, but thanks a lot. You get some sleep yourself now.”

  “I couldn’t sleep anyway; my mind keeps spinning on all this craziness. I can’t stop it.”

  “OK, Mother, but just stretch out and try. Listen to Gordon and pretend you’re at a concert with Linda. You’ll be home before you know it. Try to just let go.”

  “OK. Thanks. I’ll try.”

  Mother’s tying up again, all right. He’s not joking, not seeing the funny things. I’m bad enough but there’s a difference. We’ve got to do something. I hang up. Shutzer’s still leaning on the wall; he’s so short he can just get his elbows over the edge.

  “Now listen, Won’t. Suppose we try a scenario like this. We pretend one of us, all alone, like Sergeant York, captures this bag of Germans. Then we build that person into a second Audie Murphy. It’d be at least a Silver Star; maybe even a trip back home as a returning war hero for the home front morale. He could make speeches at high schools, and decorate some recruitment center all dressed up in a clean, pressed uniform dripping medals. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like a court-martial.”

  “How would they ever catch on?”

  “We’d need a citation from an officer.”

  “Ware’d go along. We could even call him out after it’s done and give him a piece of the action. Maybe Ware could drive one of the jeeps back full of Krauts. I can work that part out; leave it to me. For Wilkins’s sake, we should at least try.”

  “Wilkins?”

  “Sure, who else?”

  “Jesus, Shutzer, what a brain. Let me think. Boy, would that ever be perfect. We’d all testify how we were pinned down or something and Wilkins came in the nick and saved the show. Ware’s having trouble with Love about our not being aggressive enough. This’d look good to him. And what’s Ware going to do anyway, call the entire squad liars? And we’d have this mob of genuine German enemy soldiers to back up our story. What could he do? It’d sure solve things. Christ!”

  Shutzer lights cigarettes for both of us, two on a match again. I smoke my way through most of the cigarette, running things over in my mind. Shutzer keeps quiet. He’s going to make a great advertising executive or management man. He knows when to press and when to let up.

  “OK, Stan. How’s this sound? I tell Ware we’re taking a patrol out to check the shack again because we heard some noises from over there. I’ll even tell him they were around again last night.”

  “Don’t say anything about the snowman or the scarecrow or the snowball fight.”

  “Right. And we won’t say anything about all this to Wilkins yet, either.”

  “We don’t tell anybody till we find out some more. Maybe I’m all wrong and they don’t want to give up. Maybe you’re right and it’s just some kind of addled, baroque way they’ve thought up to take us prisoner without too much fuss.”

  “Jesus, Shutzer! I’m just beginning to feel good about this and you bring that up.”

  “Sorry; only want to keep things in focus. It’ll be the two of us; if it doesn’t work, so we tried. How the hell else do you end wars? Somebody’s got to take a few chances.”

  “OK, then, just the two of us, for now.”

  We talk about it some more. The best fun is building up the citation part. Mother’s going to come out looking like the tiger of the Ardennes; he’ll become a legend. Maybe we can work this up into a Congressional Medal of Honor. Wilkins’s name will be inscribed on the dollar bill. The trick, as I see it, is getting Wa
re to go along; but that’s Shutzer’s job. With Miller and Gordon chipping in, the fantasy sections will be easy. We can probably even get Father Mundy to contribute some bits. He’s up to a couple reasonable lies for a good cause.

  At ten I radio back to regiment. This time I get Flynn. In his nasty arty-farty voice, he tells me to call back in five minutes; Ware wants to talk with me. I switch off and stretch out on a mattress. I make the effort to wait out this five minutes without a cigarette, without a watch, too. Maybe I’ll make it ten minutes, build up some suspense.

  When we came in, I gave Shutzer one of the replay hands, and they’ve ripped Gordon away from the violin long enough to get a game going.

  The violin is in its open case propped against one of the grenade boxes. It’s a beautiful thing all right. I’d love to try a drawing. Getting those strong, gentle curves wouldn’t allow for any fudging at all. I’d want to draw it just as it is, in the case, with the lid up, the bow lying across the strings.

  There’s a round ball of something orange with a worn groove. I walk over, lean down and sniff; it smells like pine trees. The case is lined with dark green velvet and there’s a small green velvet cushion hooked to the back of the violin and off to one side. Under the violin strings there’s light powdered dust on the red-brown wood. Cut in the wood on top are two twisting curves like musical notes.

  It’s the first time I’ve really looked at a violin. No wonder Gordon got excited. It must be wonderful to hold a beautiful thing like this against your neck and stroke music from it. I’ll do my drawing on the side of an empty D ration box; the K boxes are too small.

  At least ten minutes go by before I get back to the radio. Ware comes right on.

  “What’s been happening out there? Over.”

  What could he know?

  “We had some harassment of the post at about twenty-two-hundred, but that’s all, Lieutenant. Over.”

  There’s no answer. I open after ten seconds and repeat.

  “There’s something big going on, Knott. We’ve had some unbelievable reports. The fucking Krauts are attacking everywhere. It could be the biggest thing in the war. They’re all excited here; talking of pulling the whole regiment back. Over.”

  “Wilkins said he heard what sounded to him like heavy artillery to the south and behind us but none of the rest of us did, sir. We also thought we picked up some noises down by that shack last night. Shutzer and I’ll check it out. Over.”

  “Major Love’s sent the first squad on a tiger patrol north to capture a prisoner. Over.”

  Hell! Edwards and the whole squad out in this weather trying to pull down a prisoner. Fucking Love!

  “Things are quiet here, sir. Over.”

  “OK, hold your squad in there, Knott. We’re having a staff meeting in two hours. I’ll give you the situation on the next call. Over.”

  “Roger, sir. Over.”

  “Over and out.”

  “Over and out, sir.”

  Nobody seems to have paid much attention to the call-in. They’re all wrapped into the game. Only Shutzer looks up and gives me a wink. I stretch on a mattress and try to think. Those jerks at regiment panic over anything; there’s probably nothing happening. I’ve seen those signal corps guys totally screw up things more than once.

  Still I’m scared. I’m scared thinking about going out and maybe actually talking with Germans. Finally, I’m dropping off to sleep. We’re one in a hole on the daytime guard now, so I can sleep long as I want; but if we’re going to try making contact with those Germans I’ll only get in about an hour. I drift off as Mundy’s wanting Miller to talk about A Farewell to Arms. Miller refuses to discuss it. None of us except Mundy thinks it was much of a book. And there’s no book around to read now except one called Forever Amber and that’s with Edwards’s squad. They’re never going to finish it. From what I hear, this is one Mundy isn’t going to like. Or maybe he will, but he’ll say he doesn’t. With that I’m gone.

  It only seems minutes later Shutzer’s shaking me. Mundy, Miller are asleep. Wilkins is upstairs again. Gordon’s on guard.

  “What do you say, Won’t? If we leave now, we can get there by noon.”

  I’m groggy; at first I don’t know what he’s talking about; then I remember. I sag in my sack on the side of my mattress and the thick taste in my mouth feels as if I’ve thrown up. I struggle my feet to the floor; I can’t really think of anything to say that’ll keep us from going on this crazy voluntary patrol. We’ll stop by Gordon and tell him where we’re going. We’ve got to tell Gordon; hell, he’s second in command; he’s even got some stripes in one of his pockets to prove it. Supply had corporal stripes.

  We don’t put on snowsuits; I think we’ve both lost confidence in these Germans’ trying to kill us. We’re both pretty much believing the story Shutzer’s made up. But we take our rifles, bandoliers, grenades, the works; we’re not into pacifism that much, yet.

  On the way out we stop by Gordon.

  “Where in hell you guys going; maybe going to build a fat Goring snowman so tonight it’ll be FOO GURR INK? He’s a perfect subject for Shutzer’s snowball sculpture.”

  I stand there while Stan explains what’s been happening and shows our map with the marks.

  “You mean you two are going to tromp on out there and set up an armistice conference with a bunch of Germans? Who do you think you are, Churchill and Roosevelt? You must be out of your minds. And you, Shutzer, my favorite Jewish German-hater; what are you doing sticking your neck out to help a bunch of Knockwurst Knickerbockers get back to some nice warm POW camp while we’re out here freezing our tootsies off? I don’t get it!” .

  I look over at Shutzer. Far as I’m concerned, it’s his show. I’m still not sure what the hell we’re doing.

  “Listen, Mel. Just suppose they really do want to surrender. Suppose we can arrange it so Ware and Love think Wilkins alone, six-gun ablazing, did it himself. Suppose all of us write up Wilkins for every medal they’ve got reserved for hero types. He’s the closest thing to a hero we’ve got around here anyway. What do you think of that?”

  Mel stares at Shutzer. Mel has the most incredible way of absorbing anything while not showing much on his face. There’s something unflappable in him.

  I’ll bet Mel’s one hell of a good doctor today. Maybe when I’m a little older and start having serious health problems, I’ll look him up, move to New Jersey; let Dr. Melvin Gordon ease me carefully, comfortably, into the grave with a minimum of screaming and hollering, something more or less dignified. He’d do that for me.

  Now he only shakes his head. But I can tell it’s gotten to him.

  “What makes you think Ware or Love is going to take part in this great farce? And the Germans, I can’t see them giving up like that. Besides, no matter what you diplomats plan, Wilkins will never go along with it.”

  It’s something we haven’t thought of too much, how to talk Wilkins into this whole scheme. We’re quiet, leaning against the wall, not smoking, mulling this one over. It’s Mel himself who comes up with it.

  “We could always have a playoff, like Saturday night bingo, to see who’s this week’s lucky hero. He might go along on that basis. No matter what we play, bridge, poker, chess, tiddlywinks, Wilkins will win. To make sure, the rest of us could play less than our best.”

  Shutzer looks at me, winks quickly.

  “Hell, Wilkins will win no matter how hard anybody plays. Especially chess. I don’t think he’s ever lost a match, even against Evans in the first squad, and that freak’s a human calculator. I think he sees colors as numbers.”

  I look back and forth. Mel and Stan are so different in the way they perceive life and still there’s a strong bond between them. It isn’t Jewishness either; it has something to do with love, not sticky man-to-man love or even brotherly love, but they love themselves, and can let that feeling flow over into other people. I don’t really think Shutzer actually even hates Germans. He only hates what some Germans have been doing, the
way Bud hates doing things the wrong way.

  They’re waiting for me to say something.

  “Well, do we tell Wilkins or not? He’s so nervous he’d never even agree to our going out now to talk with them. He’s convinced we’re surrounded and in some kind of trap.”

  It’s then I tell Stan and Mel what happened back in the dent at headquarters: the run through the forest and all. I try to tell it straight, without leaving anything out, and still not elaborating. They listen carefully, looking at each other, not believing what I’m saying and at the same time knowing I have no reason to lie. When I’m finished, Stan’s the first to speak.

  “I don’t think we should tell him. When we’ve got the Krauts all here, prisoners, then we can have the chess competition playoffs. When we go out to get the Krauts, we leave Wilkins here to guard the château and mind the radio. It’d all be perfectly natural.”

  Gordon takes this in his usual way, as if he didn’t hear; no expression on his face.

  “I still think we should tell Mother; we’ll have such an advantage and it wouldn’t be fair. But I see what you mean; let’s think about it. For now, if you guys want to take the chance, you’d better dash on out there to see if there really are Germans ‘underneath the lamplight by the village square.’ I’ll keep my ears open and if I hear anything, we’ll come charging out to help. Give two quick shots, count three slowly and fire once more if you need us. OK?”

  Shutzer looks at his watch and we both nod. We’re really going to do it.

  “If you guys aren’t back by one-thirty, I’ll phone regiment and tell them you went on a recon patrol.”

  “Ware’s in a staff meeting. If he calls before we get back, tell him we’re just doing a little reconnaissance-mission-type thing.”

  “Right.”