John shook his head. "No, he's had that since Basic," John told them. "His dad, mom, and a bunch of his little brothers and sisters showed up to graduation. Ant's dad gave him and Will the knife, a Zippo, and a braid of 550 cord with a church key."
"You're a real boy now, Ant," Carter snickered.
That made me laugh. "Pretty much." My laughter stopped when there was a shout in German above us and boots crashed to the floor, followed by a long lingering scream in the hallway outside my door.
We were silent for a long moment.
"How you guys holding up?" Hernandez asked.
I shrugged.
"All right," John said.
"Not sure," Carter said. "One of the reasons I don't wanna go to my room."
"Why not?" John asked.
Carter stared at his bottle of beer for a long moment, then looked at us. "Look, man, this is going to sound insane, but last night I was looking out my window at the back parking lot, and I swear there was someone moving around out there."
I frowned. "No way. We barely made it back."
"I woke up at like zero-two. Had to piss real bad. I looked out the window and saw the weirdest thing," He shrugged. "The wind dropped down, snow dropped to flurries, but I'm serious, there was someone moving around out there."
Bomber frowned. "What were they doing?"
Carter shrugged. "I don't know. Guess the really weird part."
"What?" Hernandez said. "Just tell us, man. I hate guessing games."
Carter shook his head again. "So I'm staring at whoever it is, right? There's that row of lights across the back of the parking lot. This dark shape was moving up to each one, then the light would go out."
"So whoever it was, they were busting out the back parking lot lights?" John asked.
Carter nodded. "Still not the part that weirded me out."
"Just spill it, dude," Hernandez said.
"Fine. I was watching him, when he suddenly turned around and looked up at me. I swear to God, he fucking looked right at me," Carter told us.
"Could you see his face?" Hernandez asked.
Carter shook his head. "No, he was wearing a standard issue cold weather mask."
"So, there was someone outside? Why the hell break the back lights?" Hernandez said.
That made me frown.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't sound good," John mused.
"Be right back," I said, standing up.
"What are you doing?" John asked me.
"I want to take a look at the vehicles out back," I said.
John grabbed my arm when I stepped forward. "No. You go out in that shit right now, even though it's daylight, and you're gonna get killed," he told me.
I stood there for a long moment, then nodded. "We know," I knew my voice was pitched low. I looked at all of them. "Someone cracked."
At that moment there was a knock at the door.
We all looked at one another, then I headed for the door. When I opened it, PFC Daniels stood there, his dark skin waxy looking. He was rubbing his upper arms through his uniform.
"Nagle sent me up here. Said I'm getting too cold," he shivered.
"Get in here, doof," I said, moving aside.
"Thanks, redneck," he grinned. I looked in the hallway, feeling a chill, but saw nothing but tiles, paint, and doors.
When I followed him in he looked around, saw everyone with beers, and shook his head.
"You guys started without me," he griped. He looked at me, gave me another wide grin. "It's because I'm black, ain't it."
"Ya caught up, Secret Squirrel, we started the Klan meetin' wit-out ya," John drawled.
"Dammit," Daniels laughed. I moved past him, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and tossing it to Daniels. Everyone took deep drinks of their own beers and set the bottles on the table. I tossed beers out to everyone, grabbed another one for myself as Daniels kept talking.
"I knew joinin' the Klan was a bad idea," Daniels said. "Hey, when do I get to trade my black hood in for a white one?"
John picked up a pillow and shook it out of the case, tossing it to Daniels. "Here ya go."
Daniels laughed, putting it on his head. "Ya'll crackers best watch out, Captain Klu Klux Negro is here to steal all yer white women!"
Carter snorted beer out his nose and Daniels grinned at him. "Ya'll ever seen a Klucker before?" Carter asked.
"Back when I was a kid," John said.
"No shit?" Daniels asked.
John nodded. "Our ranch has had Hispanic workers on it since the Alamo days. Same families, all working the land with our family. Back in like 72 a bunch of Kluckers showed up in pickups, told my Pa they weren't there fer us, they were there for our Mexicans."
Daniels whistled. "What happened?"
John shrugged. "One of them fired off his rifle. We buried them all. Fuck them Kluckers."
Daniels laughed, taking off the white pillowcase and tossing it on the bed. "Any of you?"
Hernandez shook his head, same as Carter. They all looked at me and I shrugged.
"John wouldn't like the story," I told them.
John frowned. "Yeah, don't ruin my mood, man."
The other three looked at me, then at John.
"Yeah, Ant's got a lot of ugly stories, man," Hernandez said softly.
Daniels shrugged, suddenly serious. "We all got our ugly stories, brothers."
I held up my bottle in a salute. "That we do."
We all clinked bottles.
Outside the door we heard tap shoes run by and a giggle slithered under the door to float through the room.
Everyone shivered.
"These barracks, this mountain, you know it got some ugly stories," Carter said softly. "I mean, the fucking SS trained here."
Daniels shook his head. "Man, what is it with the goddamn Nazi, especially the SS?"
Carter frowned. "What do you mean?"
Daniels took a drink off his beer. "I mean, they're like top of the list. You think creepy military, creepy experiments, human suffering, you think of the Nazis and the SS, right?" he asked, waving his hand around to encompass the whole country.
We all nodded.
"I mean, I'm black. I grew up in the South, ya feel me, baby?" He asked. Again, we all nodded. "So when I think of evil, human suffering, all that jazz, I don't think of the Confederacy, or all the slave owners who done whipped my people to death, raped my people."
Again, we all nodded.
"So if you told me: Creepy dead soldier comes back to life, kills and eats ten babies and two sisters, know what my first thought is?" He asked.
"Santa Anna?" John guessed.
"Fuck you, Texas," Daniels asked. He shook his head. "No, I'd immediately think: Oh shit, Nazis, run! But if you told me that Confederate ghosts had returned, I'd start fucking laughing at you. Why is that?"
We all shrugged.
"Maybe it's because we understand the Confederates?" Hernandez asked. When Daniels opened his mouth Hernandez held up his hand. "Hear me out, brother," Daniels closed his mouth and nodded, and Hernandez continued. "I mean, let's be honest, it was a dark fucking time. Hell, the US Marines and the British Navy had to but down the white slavery rings of Tripoli in what, like 1800? The fucking Brits had slavery till 1890, twenty-five years after we fought the Civil War, most of Europe still had slavery until the Brussels Conference Act..."
"How th fuck you know all this?" Carter asked.
"Yeah. You're just whipping out dates and shit," Daniels said.
Hernandez grinned. "Motherfuckers, I'm an educated man. I've got a Master's degree and shit," he said. "Majored in World History, man. I was in ROTC and everything."
"Damn," Carter said.
"How come you ain't no officer then?" John asked.
Hernandez shrugged. "It's stupid."
"Tell us, man," Daniels said. "Then finish that slavery shit. I wanna hear it."
"Storytime, boys?" Nancy said. We all looked up, John jumping and swearing. Nancy laughed, walking to the
fridge. "LT let us all off."
"Hey, Hernandez has got like a Master's degree in like history and shit," Daniels said.
"Really?" She turned around, smiling. "Where did you get yours?"
Hernandez grinned. "UCLA, baby. How about you?"
"NYU. Violets, baby," Nancy laughed. "Majored in Archeology, Alpha Kappa Psi, we live in deeds not years." She sat down on the bed and took a long drink of her beer.
"Holy shit, a Greek girl," Hernandez grinned. "Alcohol and anal sex."
Nancy gave him the finger and took another drink of her beer, trying to look disinterested.
"What are you two educated fucks doing hanging around with dumb motherfuckers like us?" Daniels laughed. "I got, like, a High School diploma."
"GED," I shrugged. "Took it in J-Max."
Bomber grinned. "Texas A&M, Business Major, Bachelor's degree, completed it in 18 months."
Daniels looked at me. "Damn, looks like me and you are the niggers in the room, brother."
I smiled and saluted him with my beer. "GED Mafia, J-Max F Block for life, baby."
That made him laugh. "Motherfucker, I got me a diploma and I ain't never been to jail. Hell, I never even got detention."
"Man, fuck you," I said. Daniels just laughed harder.
"Since you're the uneducated motherfucker, how about you get us all beers?" Daniels said.
"I oughta huck your diploma having ass out the window," I said, getting up. I smiled at him to take the sting out of it, and he just laughed.
Daniels put on the high pitched stereotype voice. "I gots me a dee-plo-mah. I's jus' az good as dem dere white folks. Yessuree. Dey even lets me join de You-Ass Arm-May juz lahk a white folk! Lordy lordy me!"
We all laughed and I grabbed one of the six packs out of the half-dead case.
"You're such a fucking spaz," Nancy laughed.
"Know the best part about all that shit?" Daniels asked.
"What?" We all asked at the same time.
"I talk like that, all you white boys get all nervous and shit," he laughed. "If you laugh, you're a racist, if you don't laugh, you're a humorless racist. Shit cracks me up. Nothing like watching someone like Carter's white bread ass just seize up while his brain screams 'DON'T LAUGH!' and the rest of his brain is laughing its ass off."
"You're a dick," Carter laughed.
"Hey, man, finish that shit about slavery, man. I want to hear it," Daniels grabbed a pillow, pulling it under his armpit and leaning on it.
Hernandez frowned, thinking. "Where was I?"
"Some shit about Brussels," Daniels said.
"Brussels Conference Act I think," Bomber said.
I just nodded.
"What's that?" Carter asked.
Hernandez cleared his throat. "All right, after the Civil War, in 1890, the major European powers with African holdings and colonies got together to abolish slavery. After 1835 Britain kept making treaties abolishing the slave trade."
"OK, what does that have to do with the Confederacy?" Daniels asked.
"Dude, I'd be talking for like two months," Hernandez said. He ran his hand through his hair. "The Civil War is complex as hell, and you guys got like two weeks of it in school."
"Dude, tell me, man, I wanna hear this shit," Daniels said, "I grew up in the South, all we hear is State's Rights and the evil North."
Hernandez burped, then shook his head again. "You really wanna know, man, I'll tell you later. You're not gonna like all the answers, all the history."
Daniels just shrugged. "I love learning about history, man. I don't want myths and made up shit, man, I like hearing real solid history," He grinned. "But weren't we talking about why a Confederate ghost is 'meh, cracker ghost, call Scooby-Doo, motherfucker' and a Nazi ghost is all 'oh shit, run!'?"
Hernandez nodded. "OK, we all know about the prison camps of the Civil War. Real shit holes. But really no different than any POW camp at the time, right? And the Confederates were basically still acting like the Union troops, even the black guys, were human beings, right?"
We all nodded. Daniels and Nancy were both leaning forward, their eyes bright with interest.
"So a Confederate might shoot you or bayonet you on the battlefield. Might whip to death a black man or rape a white woman. Well, so would the Union guys. It was an ugly time in American, hell, in world history," Hernandez held up his empty beer bottle. "Please insert another dime, your three minutes are up," he half-sung.
Daniels laughed, hopping off the bed.
"Pull another case out from under the bunk beds, will you?" I asked.
"It's because I'm black, isn't it?" Daniels laughed.
"It's because I'm giving you a free education, motherfucker. Get me a beer," Hernandez laughed.
Daniels gave him the finger, but still pulled another case of hefe weissen out from under the bunk. He pulled out the last six pack the pulled the six-packs out of the cardboard case and put them on the bottom shelf.
Hernandez was quiet until Daniels sat down.
"So you were saying?" Daniels asked.
"OK, so, let's say, as a black guy, you travel back in time and are captured on the battlefield, in a Union uniform, by the Confederacy. Let's say they took you alive. What's going to happen?" Hernandez asked.
"If they didn't kill me for fun, they'd send me to a prison camp, probably with all the other black Union guys," Daniels guessed. "Probably die of dysentery, that was the style back then."
Hernandez nodded. "All right. You travel back to World War Two, you get captured in the Battle of the Bulge. What happens?"
"If it's the SS, they just shoot my black ass for being untermensch, if it's the wehrmacht, I probably go to a POW camp, where I got about fifty-fifty chance of not being murdered by the Nazis," he said.
"Fair enough," Hernandez grinned, taking the beer Bomber handed him. He took a swig, then waved his hand. "But, for all their faults, those in the Confederacy that considered you subhuman didn't exterminate you by the fucking millions."
Daniels nodded. "Still doesn't explain it. Fucking Nazis man, creepier than Confederate guys or even the Klan."
Nagle laughed. "Listen to you guys trying to logic it out," she said.
We all looked at her and she spread out her hands. "It's popular culture, man. TV, books, movies, all have the Nazis dabbling in shit 'man was not meant to know'," she said, making air quotes. "Same shows about the Confederates? At the worst, dirt poor ignorant racists. Nazis? You could be told that they flayed Jewish and Gypsy and Polack kids alive to build a 200 foot tall flesh golem powered by the souls of aborted African babies to fight the Allies at D-Day and you'd nod and go 'sounds legit'."
We all laughed at that.
Nancy tapped the table with her beer bottle. "It's because, in our minds, we know the Confederate guys, for all their faults, were God-fearing good ol' boys who believed in good and evil, even though they fought for slavery. Hell, lots of 'em knew slavery was wrong, but fought anyway. They wouldn't consort with demons or try to raise ancient Gods or sacrifice people to fuel blood rites to call down brimstone on their enemies," she shook her head and pointed at the door as another scream wafted down the hallway outside. "But the Nazis? The horrible lengths they went, the things they did, it proved that they didn't care. That the ends justified the means. We try not to look at it, but the terrible shit the Nazis did brought out a darkness in everyone. In a weird way, the fucking Nazis contaminated us all."
"She's right," Hernandez nodded. "World War Two blew a hole in the human psyche, man. From the Japs eating motherfuckers alive they took prisoner, raping every woman alive in Nanking and nerve gassing the Chinks, to the Soviets sending wave after wave of poor dirt farmers with unloaded rifles into battle till the Nazis ran out of fucking bullets, to the Nazis death camps, to the US fucking dropping atomic bombs on the Nips and blowing away everything but the shadows of a hundred and twenty thousand motherfuckers in one bright flash," he shook his head. "It fucked us up man," his expression grew sober. "I mean
, it fucked up the whole goddamn human race, man."
He looked down at his hands. "Think I'm wrong?"
"Yeah. I mean, Korea and Vietnam, dude," Carter nodded. "I don't get it, what do you mean, fucked us up?"
I set my beer bottle down, grabbing my smokes and lighting one. Everyone looked at me as I exhaled smoke and stared at them through it. "He's right."
Bomber and Nagle were nodding slowly.
"It fucked everyone up so bad, they created us," I said. "World War Two created a fucking world where people like us exist."
"You Special Weapons motherfuckers," Daniels said softly. "The Heralds of the Four Horsemen," we all nodded at that. "I keep forgetting ya'll are such creepy motherfuckers."
The three of us nodded as there was another low moan outside in the hallway that seemed to drift from far away.
Hernandez looked up from his beer bottle.
"In 1945, we broke the world," he said softly. "Eventually, we'll all go mad," he pointed at Nancy, then John, then me, "Then these motherfuckers will go M.A.D."
I smiled. "Finish the fight."
Daniels, Carter, and Hernandez all shuddered.
I smiled wider.
"Dude, don't do that," Carter said.
"Finish. The. Fight." I repeated.
Nancy leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Go back to sleep, Ant. Let Tony talk."
I shivered, goosebumps rising up on my skin. I looked at her and she kissed me.
"Get a room," Daniels laughed.
"You're in it," I grinned at him.
"We still doing Story Time?" Nancy laughed.
It was. Everyone talked about life before they joined the Army. High School, Junior High, college, being a little kid. Even when it was time to go down and eat, the six of us sat in a small group and talked about our youth.
It was about twenty-one hundred when everyone else, well buzzed, went to their own rooms. The six of us had gone through two cases of beer by the time we were done.
Nancy stayed with me, and we made love slowly under my hand-sewn quilt. She got hung up, but a head-butt pushed her over the edge. We laid for a long moment and I waited until she was finished being relaxed, sleepy and warm with afterglow. She got up and showered, singing to herself.
I climbed out of bed, getting a roll of military duct tape, called 100 mile per hour tape, and pulling open a drawer. I took my boot knife, the Gerber Mark II, and taped it behind the drawer. Once I was done, I put one of the cheap knives I'd picked up in the boot sheathe and climbed back in bed.
Three Little Snowmen (Damned of the 2/19th) Page 11
