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A Soldier's Duty Ch.1
By hunter2.0
A Soldier’s Duty
Ch. 1
Justin Emerson sat listening to the radio in the kitchen. He sat in a wooden chair which was at the table, which one leg was worn down on. With this shortened leg, he would try an intricate game of balancing the chair just right so that two legs were an inch off the floor. Suddenly, his mother walked in the kitchen, and started washing the dishes.
The kitchen was relatively small, with little more than a table in the center of the room, and a sink that sat inside a counter spanning from one wall to the other, with some cabinets above, and the floor was decorated with a checkered black and white tile arrangement. A window was on the opposite side of the sink, which Justin was currently looking out. Out the window, he saw clear blue skies dotted with some clouds along with some nice, green, fertile grass.
He was staring off into space, dreaming about the night before, which he had gone out with Nicole, in which he had popped the big question. She was perfect to him, spiritually, mentally, and well, physically. He had known her ever since middle school, and had a crush on her ever since then. They had not dated for long, for marriage standards anyway, close to a year, however, they had always been friends, best friends. They had known each other since they were very young, toddlers when they met. They could trust each other with anything, any secret, any sorrow, any sadness. They had cam e very close through the years, knowing each other more and more. He knew her inside out long before he dated her, but it wasn’t until he did that he knew that he loved her, he always had loved her, but not in that way. His thoughts were always on her, he lost sleep, couldn’t eat, everything that goes with love sickness. He was going crazy over her. He came to realize that she was the one; that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. And at first, when he asked, she didn’t even think he was serious. But she said yes. His parents could hardly believe it. They were concerned; after all, he was only 19. Suddenly, his mother turned to him, her attention upon him.
“Are you going to listen to that all day? There are a lot of other ways to spend a Saturday, you know.”
“But it’s about the war, mom. About that Hitler and everything going on. I don’t get why it matters so much. I mean, the Japs are who bombed us. Even then, why do we need to go to war with them either? It’s costing us so much. We have restrictions on how much we can buy, and all, so the food can go to the soldiers…”
“Now, Justin, don’t be talking about this country that way. You should be thankful that there are people out there, dying for us so that we can have freedom,” his mother said patriotically. Justin, who now was sitting with his head propped on his hand which in turn was resting on his table turned toward his mother.
“Sure,” he said in an uncaring and bored manner.
“Like I was saying, you should do something,” his mother continued.
“Like what?” Justin asked with boredom.
“Well, you could study for-,” his mother began.
“Mom, I’m not going to go to Princeton until next year,” Justin interrupted suddenly.
“Well, that is a hard college-” his mother began again.
“University,” he interrupted again.
“University. And don’t interrupt like that so much. People will think you’re rude,” his mother corrected.
“Sorry, just happens,” he apologized.
“That’s alright. I don’t mind it, its just that other people will. Anyway, you still should do something. How ‘bout getting the mail?” she asked.
“Sure, there isn’t anything else to do.” As he began to get up, his mother spoke again.
“I just can’t believe it, Justin. You are engaged, and about to go off to a major university, and start your whole life. And you can’t find anything to do. Where is that girl, anyway? Didn’t she say that she was coming by today?” she asked.
“Yes, she just has to finish up at the hospital. And call her Nicole, not girl,” he pleaded.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Now go get the mail; your father will want his bills when he comes in,” she remarked as she motioned him towards the door. Justin moved out of the kitchen and went through the screen door on his right. As soon as he walked out of the door, the sun hit him with its brightness, and he squinted at it. He saw the bright green grass, and saw birds flying around, playing their daily tune. A neighbor was mowing his grass, and some boys were playing baseball at the end of the street.
“Nice day,” he thought to himself. He walked down the few steps that were in front of him, and walked to the mail box marked “Emersons”. He opened the mailbox, and removed its contents. He looked at the letter on top marked “To Mr. Michael Emerson”.
“Well there are dad’s bills,” he thought.
He continued to flip though the mail until one read “To Justin Emerson”. He opened it without reading the return address, knowing that Nicole, couldn’t make it again due to her long hours as a nurse at the hospital in town. He began to read it, and suddenly everything faded out of his mind. The birds, the grass, even the sun seemed to disappear. His blood ran cold as if it had frozen. He began to shake, and his pupils seemed to shrink like he was looking at the sun as his eyes widened with horror. The hairs on his arms pricked liked a thousand needles, and Goosebumps ran all on his skin. He couldn’t breathe, and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He continued to read, and he began to sweat. He felt suddenly cold, as if the warmth was sucked out of his body by some incredible force. Seconds seemed like eons, as if time it self stood still. He stood in a blank stare, jaw dropped, as if looking at something far off on the horizon.
After ten minutes, his mother came out, wondering what was taking so long. “What on earth are you doing, Justin?” his mother demanded, wondering why he was sitting on the ground lifelessly. She picked up the letter that had dropped on his hand and began to read:
December 17, 1443
Mr. Emerson,
We regret to inform you that you have been drafted to serve in the armed forces of the United States of America under orders of President Roosevelt. Upon receiving this letter, please pack all personnel items that you wish to carry with you. There will soon be an automobile escort to carry you to a train to send you to the nearest basic training facility. You will also receive your uniform, and are expected upon arrival of the escort to be properly suited.
Good luck, and may god be with you,
General Dwight D. Eisenhower,
Commander of the Allied Army
***
“Oh, my god,” his mother said at last. “There has to be a mistake. This can’t happen,” she thought to herself. She began to cry, and put her hands on her face, and everyone on the block had been staring-knowing what had happened. They tried not to stare and to continue as if they didn’t notice, but they just couldn’t. “Your father will be home soon,” she finally remarked through the tears.
“What…what will I do? What will I do?” he mumbled to himself over and over again.
“Come on,” she said picking her self up as well as helping him up. “We just have to send a letter of appeal, that’s all,” she said reassuringly, trying to bring color back to his face. It was as pale as if he was already dead from the war he was about to be sent to, or as if he had not seen the sun for years. He did not speak; he just seemed to be lifeless except for his movements and his breathing. He wearily stood up and walked in with his mother, and she helped him sit down in the kitchen once more.
“I’ll get you something to drink” she said, as she headed towards the sink. She pulled out a cup, and filled it with water, and reaching into the ice box, retrieved some ice to cool off the water. She sat the cup in front of him, wondering what to do. “We just have to send a letter of appeal,” she repeated. “It’s that simple,” she said calmly. Suddenly, she broke down into tears again. She had cried before, but not so openly. They sat like this, until it began to grow dark. The sun began to sink behind the horizon, and the crickets began their songs as the birds began to end theirs. Suddenly, a car pulled up to the house. The pitter-patter of footsteps was heard and a figure dressed in black stepped into the house. “Hey!” the figure said. “Sorry I’m so late, but the boss kept me extra late.” Realizing something was wrong, he asked aloud “What’s wrong?” he said in a curious voice.
Silently, Justin’s mother handed the letter to his father with a quivery hand. He curiously opened it and began to read. As if it was predestined for him to be like the others, he dropped the letter on the table with an open mouth.
“No. It’s a mistake. It has to.”
“It’s addressed to him,” his mother said, choking back tears. She hugged Justin, clinging to him as if she never wanted to let go.
“I won’t let ‘em take you.” Following on her words. “I’ll wait at the front porch with my 12 gauge, damn it!” He hit the table with his fist. “They ain’t takin’ him. It ain’t happening. I’ll die before they take that boy!” he exasperated with rage. “You’ve got too much goin’ for you, Justin. They can’t take you. I simply won’t let ‘em. I won’t.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it, dad,” Justin said with despair in his voice. Justin was still afraid, but he began to accept it. He had to.
“To hell with me if I can’t do nothin’ about it! I’ll be damned before they step foot in this house! They ain’t takin you. We’ll start up are own World War, right here. I’ll do it!” he yelled once again. The repeating of the words eventually wore him down, and the words fell in volume and in tone, and eventually it wasn’t anything but a whisper to himself. He sat down next to his son, and took a hard look at him. He was no longer the little boy that he always vowed to protect. Not anymore. He was coming of age, and he realized that he must let go. But he couldn’t. He was ready to let go; to let him go to college and start a life and make a living for himself and provide his own home and food. He was not, however, ready for him to go off and die, uselessly, without purpose, a body forgotten in the blood bath of a long and rigorous battle. ‘What could he do, anyway?’ boy’s father thought. ‘He can’t change the tide of the war. It won’t make a difference. Not at all!’ He continued to stare at his son, and he suddenly realized all the time he spent with him that was taken for granted.
He never thought that one day that he might not be there. He always assumed that life would continue on, and everyday, every single day, his son would be there for him. For him to comfort Justin, and for Justin to comfort him. He desperately tried to hold back the tears, as he has always been taught that men don’t show their feelings. It took an awful lot for him to cry. He hadn’t even cried at his own mother’s funeral. But this-this was different. He was going to have to sacrifice his son- his creation, his flesh and blood- for the uselessness of this god forsaken war. He turned away and wiped the small silent trickle of water that ran down his cheek. He did something that night that he hadn’t done in a long, long time. He prayed.
***
The next day Justin got up, and just began to drive. His mind raced frantically, buzzing with thoughts. The acceptance was gone. He began to panic. He drove around town for hours, just thinking “should I just run? Yes, yes I should. Start driving, go somewhere. They’ll never find me.” But he could never actually do it. “Where will I go? What will my family think?” Thousands of possibilities and scenarios ran through his mind. He couldn’t decide on what to do. He was nervous and distraught, he needed some place to relax, where he could think with his head straight. He suddenly remembered Nicole, the person who always comforted him, loved him, helped relieve his stress. He quickly turned around the car, and made for her house as fast as he could. He knocked on her door, and she opened it. When she did, a light from the sun fell on her face as if she was an angel from heaven. “Hey!” she said in surprise, kissing him.
“Hey,” he said in a grim tone, almost robotic. “I have to talk to you about something”
“I was just about to call you,” she said. She put her hand in his, and brought him inside.
He walked in her house, which was quite more luxurious than his, with a comfortable living room right in front of the door, and windows on every wall, the sun shining brightly into the room. Her father was quite rich, and he gave her a good bit of money for her first house. When they married, they planned to move in there. They sat down on the couch, and Justin took a deep breath. He took a letter out of his pocket, and gave it to her. Curiously, she opened it and read it, and she began to cry, and she put her head into his shoulder.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Run away. We can go together”
“Nicole….” He paused. He longed to say it, to tell her “get in the car” or maybe just “Lets go.” But he couldn’t. Somehow, as if a force acted upon his lips, he said,
“I can’t. If they catch us…”
“They won’t.
“We’ll be in constant hiding. We couldn’t live like that.” She thought about what life would be like, in constant hiding.
“How many years would he get?” she thought to herself, “God knows.”
“Fine. If you go…I’m a nurse. I can sign up.”
“Nicole, the chances of you and me going to the same front… just don’t. Out there, I don’t need to be worrying about you, as much as I want too. Promise me you won’t.”
She cried some more, and eventually said, “I promise.”
“Good,” He smiled sadly, and kissed her lovingly. He hugged her, wrapping his arms around her warmly, and held her for a while.
“Stay with me tonight, please Justin, I need you,” she said through her tears.
“Ok, I will,” he whispered to her, and stayed with her through the whole night.
Two weeks later, a truck arrived at the street of the Emerson’s. It was full with soldiers, all of them enthusiastic and dreaming of their heroism in war. Justin looked at them in wonder, thinking how they could not realize what they were about to go through. His family stood there, along with Nicole. Justin stood in full uniform, with a satchel swung across his shoulder. He carried everything dear to him. Most importantly, a picture tucked away of his family, and one of Nicole. He took a deep breath. His mother and father stood by him. His mother hugged him as if never to let go, and then kissed him on the cheek. His father began to hug him, as his mother did, but instead decided to leave him with a handshake.
“Go kill those Nazi bastards, you hear? Give ‘em hell! And do one in for me, will ya?”
“Sure, dad,” Justin stood with a small grin on his face. With all of the troubles placed on him now, it was the best he could give.
Nicole kissed him, and at that moment he wanted so much not to go. So much. How can you be willing to give up something so good for something so horrible? Who is willing to run out of heaven and into hell? Why would any sane person do that? How could they?
He finally let go, and began walking toward the truck and hoped in the back. The truck began to pull off the curb, and Justin looked back one more time. His parents and nicole were waving at him, and he waved back. Justin’s father, thinking of the kiss just realized his mistake. ‘A handshake? What if that’s the last time he ever …’ he waved the thought out of his mind, knowing that he would be alright. The car began to move, and began to move down the street, until it turned the corner. He went inside the house with his wife and Nicole. They hung a blue star with string in the window of the kitchen.
1/17/2005 1:17:36 AM
(Updated: 1/17/2005 1:18:31 AM)
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