Boats That Sail Across The Skies (4761 words)
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DATo
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Boats That Sail Across The Skies (4761 words)
Boats That Sail Across The Skies
by
DATo
CHAPTER I
July 1943
A military staging base on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona - U.S.A.
"We’re heading west boys, so have your gear packed and be ready to move in forty-eight hours. I can’t tell you when we’ll be on the Pacific or where on the west coast we’ll be shipping out from, that’s classified, but ... we’re a-goin’. This time it’s for real. So if any of you knuckleheads hasn’t filled out his GI life insurance papers or if you have any letters to send home do it now." said Lieutenant Morrison to his platoon of 48 men as they sat congregated in one of the newly built quonset huts.
"One more thing. I’ve been told that we will need an electrician in this platoon. Anybody here an electrician, or do I have to requisition one?"
Private first class Vincent Matteo sheepishly raised his hand.
"How old are you son?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Nineteen years old sir." responded Private Matteo.
"And you’re an electrician?" asked the lieutenant skeptically.
"Yes sir. Got an early start. Finished technical school in ‘40 then me and big brother started a company. We were doing OK and then the Japs hit Pearl and, well, here I am." said Vincent.
There was a slight smattering of laughter and nodding of heads as other members of the assembled group remembered how their own lives had been turned upside-down by the war.
Lieutenant Morrison pointed directly at Private Matteo’s nose and said, "You’re now a sergeant. You’ll be responsible for three trucks and six men."
Once again there was a smattering of laughter by the men, this time accompanied by applause and a few catcalls. The men knew they could get away with this. The unusually close relationship of the men and their lieutenant, though it did not strictly adhere to military protocol, had contributed to the feeling of kindred closeness and the high level of morale in the group.
Vincent, while looking at the ground he sat on and nodding with a silly grin, raised his hand to acknowledge his comrades and then, in all seriousness, saluted Lieutenant Morrison as if to say, Ok with me boss.
July 1943
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Corporal Katsu Kotako sat in a grass hut overlooking the bay to the north of Kwajalein Island, the largest island of the Kwajalein Atoll. It was a beautiful day. Great billowing clouds of the purest white were accented against the cobalt blue backdrop of the sky. Corporal Katako was charged with the mindless duty of visually monitoring, from his elevated hilltop position, an expanse from the beaches to the distant horizon of the Pacific ocean for signs of an enemy which, on such a perfect day, Kotako was hard-pressed to believe actually existed.
Corporal Kotako was hard-pressed to believe many of the things he had been told but he wisely kept his doubts to himself. He knew, for instance, that any enemy approach would be known long before he sighted them. They would be picked up by radar, patrol planes, and picket ships, but his duty was to sit in this hut and serve as an observer, and Corporal Kotako almost always obeyed orders willingly. He felt a mild pang of uneasiness when he thought of the times he had disobeyed orders however. During the occupation of Guam he had intentionally shot over the heads of the civilians he was charged to kill as they fled in confusion. He had also intentionally missed the people he was once assigned to shoot as a member of a firing squad. He knew the victims lives were forfeit, someone else would see to it, but he could not bring himself to be a killer of the helpless; in fact, to date, Corporal Kotako was unaware of having harmed anyone since the beginning of hostilities. There was always the off chance that one of his bullets fired into the general area of an enemy had found its mark, but so far he had never been aware with any degree of certainty of anyone ever killed as a direct result of his own, intentional efforts.
Corporal Kotako watched the clouds as they passed across the sky and smiled. Since the time when he was a child he had always loved to watch clouds rolling across the sky. He thought of them as sail ships, sailing to unknown destinies.
In addition to knowing that his present duty was a worthless waste of time, Corporal Kotako was also aware that the sun was an enormous fireball in the heavens - one of an apparently infinite number of stars which just happened to be close to the earth. But he had been told that the sun was a god and that his Emperor was descended from this god. Kotako could not reconcile the scientific facts with the beliefs he had been taught - the beliefs his parents and everyone he knew and loved believed and expoused. He tried not to think of it because every time he did he became confused. It was his duty to believe what he had been told by his elders.
Corporal Kotako cleaned his already immaculate Ariska 99 rifle to pass the time. He remembered the lecture he received when he was given the rifle. During the lecture the officer told of a famous and mighty band of warriors who had lived long ago. When going off to war the warriors were told by their own mothers and wives to return with their shields or lying dead upon them. Such was the respect and reverence to be shown by every warrior of the Imperial Army of Nippon to his rifle. Kotako thought it curious at the time to think that a mother would hold the value of a shield to be of more importance than the life of her own son.
"It’s time Katsu. I am here to relieve you. Go get something to eat." said Corporal Onoda. "How many Americans have you killed in the last four hours?"
Corporal Kotako laughed but said, "I wouldn’t joke about that. We may be seeing them sooner than we think."
"Why would they want this ridiculous atoll? Sometimes I think the army is punishing us for all the infractions we’ve committed and thought we had gotten away with by posting us here." said Onada.
"YOUR infractions Kinji - san. I do not commit infractions." replied a laughing Katsu Kotako, but his smile melted as he once again remembered his dereliction of duty regarding the ordered killing of civilians. Corporal Kotako inspected his rifle one last time before shouldering it and leaving the hut.
March 2014
Jefferson Barracks National Military Cemetery - St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
An American flag snapped sharply against the wind of a cobalt blue sky - a sky accented by billowing, pure white, cotton candy clouds. The monotonous clanking sound of a halyard against the metal flagpole was interrupted by three barked orders, followed each in turn by the precisely timed reports of three rifles. Sergeant Vincent Matteo, aged ninety, was being laid to rest. The three rifle bearers, in Marine dress blues now stood at parade rest as a white-gloved military officer presented the flag which had covered their father’s coffin to his three middle-aged children, Vincent’s wife having preceded him in death.
As the congregation of friends and family began to depart an elderly man was approached by Joseph Matteo, Vincent’s oldest son.
"Uncle Paul! Did Virginia mention for you to join us back at dad’s house? The girls put together a lot of food for everyone for lunch." said Joe Matteo.
"Yes, yes I’ll be there. Listen, I want to tell you now, before I forget, to stop by my place sometime soon. I have something of your father’s that I want to give to you."
"Yeah? What is it Uncle Paul?"
"This isn’t the time or the place Joey. Just stop in when you can." replied Uncle Paul. "How are you boys and your sister holding up?"
"We’ve been expecting it. After all he was ninety years old. I think he was ready, too. I think he was just tired of living Uncle Paul, and he never stopped missing mom. We’re just grateful that he had his wits right up to the end. Just last week he was telling us again, for the hundredth time, about him and his buddy, Ack-Ack, during the war." laughed Joe.
Uncle Paul laughed too. "He had so many funny stories. Well, he had a gravy assignment for the most part and missed a lot of the carnage. He and his crew used lights and generators to light up the bombed out Japanese runways at night so the Seabees could get them repaired after the islands were taken and secured. Those airstrips were of the highest priority and they had to work day and night to make them operational again as soon as possible, but you already know all this. Your dad probably helped build a couple dozen airstrips during that war."
"Yeah, and he told us about every one of them too." laughed Joe. "I miss him already Uncle Paul"
"See you back at the house." said Uncle Paul as Joe Matteo climbed into the limo with his sister and brother for the ride back.
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko walked carefully over the uneven pathway leading from her home to the commercial district. She was still, despite her age, very spry and healthy though the winter had taken its toll upon her arthritis. She was on a mission to purchase something of extreme importance. If she failed to make the purchase she would be disgraced in her own eyes for the remainder of her life. She was startled as a motor scooter sped closely and noisily past her in the street. She would never allow herself to become accustomed to the modern state of the world. "Japanese children have all become Westernized!" she would often complain, "They lack respect for our traditions and historical way of life." Sachiko knew that her son or daughter would have willingly undertaken the errand to make the purchase for her if she had asked them to, but this was her duty, and her responsibility, to delegate it to anyone else would be disgraceful. Sachiko increased her pace in defiance of the pain she felt in her arthritic ankles.
=================================================
Chapter II
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
The American military leaders had learned a bitter lesson on the island of Tarawa, their forces having sustained over six thousand casualties. They were determined not to repeat the errors which had led to those casualties. After a tremendous bombing campaign by air and sea forces the island of Kwajalein was attacked by fifty thousand American GIs effectively outnumbering the Japanese forces by approximately eight to one. Though fighting still continued at the far end of the atoll, on the island of Roi-Namur, the island of Kwajalein had been declared SECURED.
Corporal John Popowski, otherwise known as Ack-Ack by the men in his platoon approached the third of three utility trucks which had just disembarked from the gaping jaws of the LSD beached on the shore. The enormous transport had been disgorging equipment and supplies for the last hour.
"Hey Vinnie! One of the Marines of the Fourth Division just told me that they kicked the crap out of the Japs. They’re estimating over five thousand casualties. We lost only a hunnert or so killed and about eight more wounded."
The corners of Sergeant Matteo’s thinly trimmed mustache lifted in a smile as he said, "Just be glad your working for me Akkie or you might have been one of them. I think all that praying my mom does finally paid off. You got to admit Ack-Ack, we got it good back here. I feel awful bad for those poor bastards who are the first to set foot on these damn islands."
As Sergeant Matteo was speaking the piercing wail of the alert siren sounded.
"What the hell is going on?" said Ack-Ack. "This HAS to be a drill. There ain’t no Jap airbases around here that haven’t already been taken."
Then they saw the small speck in the sky to the northeast as it began its descent in a trajectory pointed directly at the beachhead.
"RUN FOR IT ACK-ACK !!!" shouted Sergeant Matteo.
They both ran to the promising protection of a wall of supply crates fifty yards away as the sound of the lone enemy plane and anti-aircraft fire became audible. Soon a half-dozen small bombs began exploding upon the beach, and then the lone plane veered northward directly into the sun to blind the antiaircraft gunners as it made its escape.
"You OK Vinnie?" said Ack-Ack.
"Yeah. You?" replied Vincent.
They then looked about them and noted for the first time that in addition to the crates, and beside them, were stacked what could be estimated to be two hundred artillery shells.
"You stupid Da-go!!! Why the hell did you lead me to these shells. If they had been hit and gone off there wouldn’t be enough of us left to ship home in an envelope!!!" screamed Corporal Ack-Ack as he grabbed Vincent by the lapels of his shirt and shook him.
"You goddamned Po-lock!!!! I WAS FOLLOWING YOU!!!!" screamed back Sergeant Matteo as he threw himself upon Ack-Ack and wrestled him to the sand. Their fighting strength was soon sapped by their laughter.
They lay smiling on their backs in the sand looking up at a cobalt blue sky, euphoric in the knowledge that they were both still alive. Sergeant Matteo raised his arm and pointed.
"Look at those beautiful clouds Akkie. That one looks like a camel."
"The hell it does," Replied Ack-Ack. "It looks like a porterhouse steak, smothered in mushrooms and onions, with a baked potato and pie ala mode. And look ... look right there ... a cold beer. See the foam on top? NO! A WHOLE CASE OF BEER!"
They both laughed once more, like the couple of kids that they were, as the ‘all-clear’ sounded.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
"Hey, Joey! You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have fixed some lunch for us." said Joseph Matteo’s uncle.
"That’s OK Uncle Paul. Just ate."
"Everything getting back to normal?"
"Yes, pretty much so. We still have to decide what to do with dad’s house and go through his stuff to determine what to keep and what to get rid of. There are so many memories associated with all that furniture that it’s going to be hard to part with it, but we can’t keep it all." said Joe.
"Speaking of stuff," said Uncle Paul. I want to give you something of your father’s - what I mentioned to you that day at the cemetery. Have a seat. I’ll be right back."
A few moments later Joe’s uncle returned bearing his brother-in-law’s property.
"Woah! Was that dad’s? I never knew he ever hunted. Looks like a deer rifle." said Joe.
"No, Joey. He brought it back from the war. I guess he figured me, being so much younger than his own brothers, would be around longer to pass it on to you when he was gone. I wrote up an explanation just in case I caught it before I had a chance to explain things to you, but it seems that wasn’t necessary now."
"Was it his rifle during the war, Uncle Paul?"
"No Joey. No, it wasn’t." Paul Torralino had to sit down before he could continue. He ran his hands over the ancient relic tenderly as he awkwardly began the tale, "He wanted ... he wanted ... Oh, Jesus Christ!!! .... he wanted you kids to know what happened. He ... he had trouble talking about it. He cried when he told me what happened. I really don’t know why he even told me, but he did, and now at his request, I must tell you. There is one war story of your father’s that you’ve never heard before."
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko heard the tiny bell ring over the door as she entered the shop. The elderly proprietor, Aito Hirayama bowed deeply and smiled warmly at Sachiko as she made her way to the counter.
"Ahh, Sachiko!!! You have not been in my shop for some time. Have you renounced me? said Mr. Hirayama.
"You know why I am here, and if you tell me that you have none I shall pray that this roof collapse upon your stupid and irresponsible head." said Sachiko angrily.
"We have been friends since childhood dear Sachiko. Why do you speak to me this way? If you are angry with me please tell me what I have done." replied Mr. Hirayama.
Sachiko's attitude was at once mollified. "I am not angry with you Aito-san, I am angry with myself. I am old now and my mind does not work as it once did. I thought I had saved a second packet but I cannot find it. The anniversary approaches and I am in a panic. If you do not have any you must get some for me immediately! Please Aito-san, please do not disappoint me." Sachiko appeared ready to cry.
"Sachiko, Sachiko, please calm down, I have a goodly supply. I always overstock just for you. You know that I have always had a special place in my heart for you since we were children. Have you forgotten Sachiko? I have never forgotten."
For the first time Sachiko smiled. "May the gods of my ancestors bless you Aito. Please forgive my behavior."
Aito Hirayama took two packages from a drawer. "This you will pay for." said Aito Hirayama as he extended the small parcel wrapped in brown paper with his right hand. "And this extra portion is a gift, from me to you." he said as he extended his left.
"I'm sorry Aito." said Sachiko.
"Oh, go on! You have already said that." replied Mr. Hirayama.
"No, Aito. I mean for the other. You know I always thought fondly of you but …"
"Yes Sachiko." Mr. Hirayama whispered quietly. "I know."
======================================
Chapter III
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Sergeant Matteo jumped off the truck before it had finished rolling to a stop.
"OK Keaton, this is where I want the trucks tonight. Right here. The engineers made a hell of a lot of progress today and I want everything to be set up tonight half-way between where they are now and where we expect them to finish tomorrow morning so we can light em up in both directions. Drive back and get O'Malley, and Ack-Ack to bring up the other trucks." said Sergeant Matteo.
"Sure thing sarge. We got plenty of time though - five more hours before sundown." said, Private Keaton.
"Yeah but I want to be already done setting up by sundown in case we have any glitches in the hardware we might have to fix like last time."
"Whatever you say sarge." replied Private Keaton as he sped away in the truck they had just arrived in.
Vincent stood all alone beside the tree line of jungle growth and decided this would be a good time to empty his bowels. As he walked toward the tree line he stumbled upon a fallen branch. He threw his arms outward to balance himself and froze in that position. Twenty feet in front of him was a Japanese soldier with a rifle pointed directly at his chest. Sergeant Matteo's mind raced to remember the prayer he was taught to say in Catholic school when one is aware of impending death but he could not remember it. He remained standing with his arms outstretched, weaponless, and devoid of all hope.
The Japanese soldier was extremely dirty and his clothes were torn and filthy. His left arm and head were wrapped in blood soaked bandages. He walked with a limp out of the tree line and stood facing Sergeant Matteo with his rifle elevated. And then he spoke ….
"Bee-Bee Root chan-dy bah. Me-eat one-time." he then, impossibly, winked. He lowered the Ariska 99 rifle, smiled, and then ejected the shell. With the breach left open he held the rifle horizontally, despite the pain in his arm, and presented it to Vincent Matteo. Corporal Katsu Kotako had decided that the reverence he owed to the prospect of being reunited with his wife and daughter was more sacred to him than the reverence he held for his rifle.
Vincent slowly lowered his arms and had taken two steps forward when sound of the rifle blast exploded in his ears. He saw the Japanese soldier lurch backwards and looking over his own right shoulder saw a Marine soiled in dirt and mud, with one pant leg of his trousers torn off, and his right leg bandaged.
"You owe me one, Flashlight. I just saved your life." said the Marine.
"What the hell you talking about you stinking piece of sh*t? The kid was surrendering!" said Sergeant Matteo.
Sergeant Matteo ran to the fallen Japanese soldier and in his own ignorance of battlefield wounds resulting from his lack of battlefield experience was unaware that the injury was mortal. The soldier was still lucid but fading fast.
"You're gonna be OK kid. I got some trucks coming any minute now We'll get you to a field hospital."
Corporal Katsu Kotako raised his arm and touched Vincent's face. He then pointed over Vincent's shoulder at the sky.
"Do you see? Do you see, American soldier? Look up into the sky. Do you see the pretty clouds? They are boats which have come to take me home."
"I don't know what you're saying kid. You'll be OK. We'll fix you up good as new." said Sergeant Matteo.
Corporal Katsu Kotako then began to sing, "Boats sail on the riv-er, ships sail on the sea. Boats that sail a-cross the skies are pr……."
Corporal Kotako's lips stopped moving, his face became serene - a white, alabaster monument to his times, his gentle eyes were fixed upon boats sailing upon a cobalt-blue sky.
"Hey that's a nice rifle. The little monkey must have taken good care of it." said the Marine. "This is the one I'm gonna send home to my kid brother."
"He was surrendering, you son of a b;tch! What did you have to shoot him for? He could have killed me but he didn't!"
"Do you know what these bastards do to our men when they capture them? They behead them, that's what. What's your problem Flashlight? Get out of the way, I want that rifle."
"You're not gonna touch that rifle!" said Sergeant Matteo as he hurled himself upon the Marine.
Back home Vincent was a street-wise kid who could more than hold his own in a fist fight, but he was no match for the crusty, battle-hardened, and trained killing machine embodied in the Marine. Half-maniacal from battle the Marine soon had Vincent on his back, and as Vincent squeezed upon the Marine's throat with both his hands the Marine delivered the first blow to Vincent's jaw. Vincent saw an explosion of stars but he did not release his grip on the Marine's throat. The second blow landed on the side of Vincent's head sending a shockwave through him which caused his arms to fall. The Marine had lifted his fist to land a final, devastating punch but restrained himself at the last moment. Rolling off of Vincent he stood looking down at him.
"OK Flashlight. The rifle's yours. You earned it the hard way. But every time you look at it just remember that I saved your life. I saved your life - get it? Leave things where they are Flashlight. Your word against mine. You'd never, ever make it stick. You'll only make a fool of yourself." said the Marine, as he trudged back into the undergrowth.
In the distance, twenty men who had heard the rifle report were hurrying to the scene from the airstrip with weapons.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
Uncle Paul and his nephew, Joseph Matteo sat together for fifteen minutes without speaking. Then, Uncle Paul rose wordlessly and left the room. A moment later he returned with a bottle of bourbon.
"I know it's pretty early in the day for this ..." began Uncle Paul.
"Pour it out. Pour it straight, and pour it big." said Joe Matteo. "Is there anything we can do? It might mean something to the soldier's family if they knew what happened ... that he refused to kill dad I mean. I feel we owe them. We owe them at least something."
"Your dad said they couldn't find out anything about him. Your dad tried, too. He tried very hard. We will never know who they are, and they will never know who we are either Joey. I imagine they must have wondered how he died. Maybe it would mean something to them to know what happened, but there's nothing to be done about it."
The two men sat in silence on Uncle Paul's back porch, sipping bourbon as they watched a graceful and leisurely procession clouds passing over the hillside.
April 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko dusted the butsudan - the shrine to her ancestors located in the corner of the visiting room of her home - for the fourth time. She must change into her kimono before the guests arrive. She had placed the picture of her father in the center of the butsudan for this evening's gathering of friends and family.
She did not know the day her father died. After the war the military records proved very difficult from which to obtain information even of his posting. She knew he had been in Guam for her mother had told her so, but beyond that the waters were murky. As a result she had chosen the month of April - the entire month of April - to honor her father.
She was reminded of a day she had spent with her father in April. It was one of only very few memories of him that remained with her. She had been three years old and he had taken her to see the cherry blossoms in bloom. As he carried her in his arms beneath the beautiful canopy of pink-flowered branches which lined either side of the path through the city gardens he sang to her a song. She remembered it well though it was sung to her so many years ago.
Sachiko opened one of the small, brown papered parcels she had obtained from Mr. Hirayama and poured some of the brown crystals into the incense cup and lit it. Next she lit the tall candles on either side of her father's picture. She would repeat this ritual daily for the remainder of the month. Sachiko watched the sweetly-scented smoke of the incense as well as the darker smoke of the candles rise before her father's picture and then drift to the left of the butsudan, and then further trail to a window which opened upon the sight of her own cherry trees which were now in full bloom.
Sachiko began to sing her father's song.
Boats sail on the rivers.
Ships sail on the seas.
Boats that sail across the skies
Are prettier far than these,
Than ... these
Than-these,
Than-these.
Sachiko smiled to see the incense smoke rise and mingle with the puffy white clouds framed in the window between the flowering cherry branches ... all painted upon a cobalt-blue sky.
Finis
by
DATo
CHAPTER I
July 1943
A military staging base on the outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona - U.S.A.
"We’re heading west boys, so have your gear packed and be ready to move in forty-eight hours. I can’t tell you when we’ll be on the Pacific or where on the west coast we’ll be shipping out from, that’s classified, but ... we’re a-goin’. This time it’s for real. So if any of you knuckleheads hasn’t filled out his GI life insurance papers or if you have any letters to send home do it now." said Lieutenant Morrison to his platoon of 48 men as they sat congregated in one of the newly built quonset huts.
"One more thing. I’ve been told that we will need an electrician in this platoon. Anybody here an electrician, or do I have to requisition one?"
Private first class Vincent Matteo sheepishly raised his hand.
"How old are you son?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Nineteen years old sir." responded Private Matteo.
"And you’re an electrician?" asked the lieutenant skeptically.
"Yes sir. Got an early start. Finished technical school in ‘40 then me and big brother started a company. We were doing OK and then the Japs hit Pearl and, well, here I am." said Vincent.
There was a slight smattering of laughter and nodding of heads as other members of the assembled group remembered how their own lives had been turned upside-down by the war.
Lieutenant Morrison pointed directly at Private Matteo’s nose and said, "You’re now a sergeant. You’ll be responsible for three trucks and six men."
Once again there was a smattering of laughter by the men, this time accompanied by applause and a few catcalls. The men knew they could get away with this. The unusually close relationship of the men and their lieutenant, though it did not strictly adhere to military protocol, had contributed to the feeling of kindred closeness and the high level of morale in the group.
Vincent, while looking at the ground he sat on and nodding with a silly grin, raised his hand to acknowledge his comrades and then, in all seriousness, saluted Lieutenant Morrison as if to say, Ok with me boss.
July 1943
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Corporal Katsu Kotako sat in a grass hut overlooking the bay to the north of Kwajalein Island, the largest island of the Kwajalein Atoll. It was a beautiful day. Great billowing clouds of the purest white were accented against the cobalt blue backdrop of the sky. Corporal Katako was charged with the mindless duty of visually monitoring, from his elevated hilltop position, an expanse from the beaches to the distant horizon of the Pacific ocean for signs of an enemy which, on such a perfect day, Kotako was hard-pressed to believe actually existed.
Corporal Kotako was hard-pressed to believe many of the things he had been told but he wisely kept his doubts to himself. He knew, for instance, that any enemy approach would be known long before he sighted them. They would be picked up by radar, patrol planes, and picket ships, but his duty was to sit in this hut and serve as an observer, and Corporal Kotako almost always obeyed orders willingly. He felt a mild pang of uneasiness when he thought of the times he had disobeyed orders however. During the occupation of Guam he had intentionally shot over the heads of the civilians he was charged to kill as they fled in confusion. He had also intentionally missed the people he was once assigned to shoot as a member of a firing squad. He knew the victims lives were forfeit, someone else would see to it, but he could not bring himself to be a killer of the helpless; in fact, to date, Corporal Kotako was unaware of having harmed anyone since the beginning of hostilities. There was always the off chance that one of his bullets fired into the general area of an enemy had found its mark, but so far he had never been aware with any degree of certainty of anyone ever killed as a direct result of his own, intentional efforts.
Corporal Kotako watched the clouds as they passed across the sky and smiled. Since the time when he was a child he had always loved to watch clouds rolling across the sky. He thought of them as sail ships, sailing to unknown destinies.
In addition to knowing that his present duty was a worthless waste of time, Corporal Kotako was also aware that the sun was an enormous fireball in the heavens - one of an apparently infinite number of stars which just happened to be close to the earth. But he had been told that the sun was a god and that his Emperor was descended from this god. Kotako could not reconcile the scientific facts with the beliefs he had been taught - the beliefs his parents and everyone he knew and loved believed and expoused. He tried not to think of it because every time he did he became confused. It was his duty to believe what he had been told by his elders.
Corporal Kotako cleaned his already immaculate Ariska 99 rifle to pass the time. He remembered the lecture he received when he was given the rifle. During the lecture the officer told of a famous and mighty band of warriors who had lived long ago. When going off to war the warriors were told by their own mothers and wives to return with their shields or lying dead upon them. Such was the respect and reverence to be shown by every warrior of the Imperial Army of Nippon to his rifle. Kotako thought it curious at the time to think that a mother would hold the value of a shield to be of more importance than the life of her own son.
"It’s time Katsu. I am here to relieve you. Go get something to eat." said Corporal Onoda. "How many Americans have you killed in the last four hours?"
Corporal Kotako laughed but said, "I wouldn’t joke about that. We may be seeing them sooner than we think."
"Why would they want this ridiculous atoll? Sometimes I think the army is punishing us for all the infractions we’ve committed and thought we had gotten away with by posting us here." said Onada.
"YOUR infractions Kinji - san. I do not commit infractions." replied a laughing Katsu Kotako, but his smile melted as he once again remembered his dereliction of duty regarding the ordered killing of civilians. Corporal Kotako inspected his rifle one last time before shouldering it and leaving the hut.
March 2014
Jefferson Barracks National Military Cemetery - St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
An American flag snapped sharply against the wind of a cobalt blue sky - a sky accented by billowing, pure white, cotton candy clouds. The monotonous clanking sound of a halyard against the metal flagpole was interrupted by three barked orders, followed each in turn by the precisely timed reports of three rifles. Sergeant Vincent Matteo, aged ninety, was being laid to rest. The three rifle bearers, in Marine dress blues now stood at parade rest as a white-gloved military officer presented the flag which had covered their father’s coffin to his three middle-aged children, Vincent’s wife having preceded him in death.
As the congregation of friends and family began to depart an elderly man was approached by Joseph Matteo, Vincent’s oldest son.
"Uncle Paul! Did Virginia mention for you to join us back at dad’s house? The girls put together a lot of food for everyone for lunch." said Joe Matteo.
"Yes, yes I’ll be there. Listen, I want to tell you now, before I forget, to stop by my place sometime soon. I have something of your father’s that I want to give to you."
"Yeah? What is it Uncle Paul?"
"This isn’t the time or the place Joey. Just stop in when you can." replied Uncle Paul. "How are you boys and your sister holding up?"
"We’ve been expecting it. After all he was ninety years old. I think he was ready, too. I think he was just tired of living Uncle Paul, and he never stopped missing mom. We’re just grateful that he had his wits right up to the end. Just last week he was telling us again, for the hundredth time, about him and his buddy, Ack-Ack, during the war." laughed Joe.
Uncle Paul laughed too. "He had so many funny stories. Well, he had a gravy assignment for the most part and missed a lot of the carnage. He and his crew used lights and generators to light up the bombed out Japanese runways at night so the Seabees could get them repaired after the islands were taken and secured. Those airstrips were of the highest priority and they had to work day and night to make them operational again as soon as possible, but you already know all this. Your dad probably helped build a couple dozen airstrips during that war."
"Yeah, and he told us about every one of them too." laughed Joe. "I miss him already Uncle Paul"
"See you back at the house." said Uncle Paul as Joe Matteo climbed into the limo with his sister and brother for the ride back.
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko walked carefully over the uneven pathway leading from her home to the commercial district. She was still, despite her age, very spry and healthy though the winter had taken its toll upon her arthritis. She was on a mission to purchase something of extreme importance. If she failed to make the purchase she would be disgraced in her own eyes for the remainder of her life. She was startled as a motor scooter sped closely and noisily past her in the street. She would never allow herself to become accustomed to the modern state of the world. "Japanese children have all become Westernized!" she would often complain, "They lack respect for our traditions and historical way of life." Sachiko knew that her son or daughter would have willingly undertaken the errand to make the purchase for her if she had asked them to, but this was her duty, and her responsibility, to delegate it to anyone else would be disgraceful. Sachiko increased her pace in defiance of the pain she felt in her arthritic ankles.
=================================================
Chapter II
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
The American military leaders had learned a bitter lesson on the island of Tarawa, their forces having sustained over six thousand casualties. They were determined not to repeat the errors which had led to those casualties. After a tremendous bombing campaign by air and sea forces the island of Kwajalein was attacked by fifty thousand American GIs effectively outnumbering the Japanese forces by approximately eight to one. Though fighting still continued at the far end of the atoll, on the island of Roi-Namur, the island of Kwajalein had been declared SECURED.
Corporal John Popowski, otherwise known as Ack-Ack by the men in his platoon approached the third of three utility trucks which had just disembarked from the gaping jaws of the LSD beached on the shore. The enormous transport had been disgorging equipment and supplies for the last hour.
"Hey Vinnie! One of the Marines of the Fourth Division just told me that they kicked the crap out of the Japs. They’re estimating over five thousand casualties. We lost only a hunnert or so killed and about eight more wounded."
The corners of Sergeant Matteo’s thinly trimmed mustache lifted in a smile as he said, "Just be glad your working for me Akkie or you might have been one of them. I think all that praying my mom does finally paid off. You got to admit Ack-Ack, we got it good back here. I feel awful bad for those poor bastards who are the first to set foot on these damn islands."
As Sergeant Matteo was speaking the piercing wail of the alert siren sounded.
"What the hell is going on?" said Ack-Ack. "This HAS to be a drill. There ain’t no Jap airbases around here that haven’t already been taken."
Then they saw the small speck in the sky to the northeast as it began its descent in a trajectory pointed directly at the beachhead.
"RUN FOR IT ACK-ACK !!!" shouted Sergeant Matteo.
They both ran to the promising protection of a wall of supply crates fifty yards away as the sound of the lone enemy plane and anti-aircraft fire became audible. Soon a half-dozen small bombs began exploding upon the beach, and then the lone plane veered northward directly into the sun to blind the antiaircraft gunners as it made its escape.
"You OK Vinnie?" said Ack-Ack.
"Yeah. You?" replied Vincent.
They then looked about them and noted for the first time that in addition to the crates, and beside them, were stacked what could be estimated to be two hundred artillery shells.
"You stupid Da-go!!! Why the hell did you lead me to these shells. If they had been hit and gone off there wouldn’t be enough of us left to ship home in an envelope!!!" screamed Corporal Ack-Ack as he grabbed Vincent by the lapels of his shirt and shook him.
"You goddamned Po-lock!!!! I WAS FOLLOWING YOU!!!!" screamed back Sergeant Matteo as he threw himself upon Ack-Ack and wrestled him to the sand. Their fighting strength was soon sapped by their laughter.
They lay smiling on their backs in the sand looking up at a cobalt blue sky, euphoric in the knowledge that they were both still alive. Sergeant Matteo raised his arm and pointed.
"Look at those beautiful clouds Akkie. That one looks like a camel."
"The hell it does," Replied Ack-Ack. "It looks like a porterhouse steak, smothered in mushrooms and onions, with a baked potato and pie ala mode. And look ... look right there ... a cold beer. See the foam on top? NO! A WHOLE CASE OF BEER!"
They both laughed once more, like the couple of kids that they were, as the ‘all-clear’ sounded.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
"Hey, Joey! You should have called and told me you were coming. I would have fixed some lunch for us." said Joseph Matteo’s uncle.
"That’s OK Uncle Paul. Just ate."
"Everything getting back to normal?"
"Yes, pretty much so. We still have to decide what to do with dad’s house and go through his stuff to determine what to keep and what to get rid of. There are so many memories associated with all that furniture that it’s going to be hard to part with it, but we can’t keep it all." said Joe.
"Speaking of stuff," said Uncle Paul. I want to give you something of your father’s - what I mentioned to you that day at the cemetery. Have a seat. I’ll be right back."
A few moments later Joe’s uncle returned bearing his brother-in-law’s property.
"Woah! Was that dad’s? I never knew he ever hunted. Looks like a deer rifle." said Joe.
"No, Joey. He brought it back from the war. I guess he figured me, being so much younger than his own brothers, would be around longer to pass it on to you when he was gone. I wrote up an explanation just in case I caught it before I had a chance to explain things to you, but it seems that wasn’t necessary now."
"Was it his rifle during the war, Uncle Paul?"
"No Joey. No, it wasn’t." Paul Torralino had to sit down before he could continue. He ran his hands over the ancient relic tenderly as he awkwardly began the tale, "He wanted ... he wanted ... Oh, Jesus Christ!!! .... he wanted you kids to know what happened. He ... he had trouble talking about it. He cried when he told me what happened. I really don’t know why he even told me, but he did, and now at his request, I must tell you. There is one war story of your father’s that you’ve never heard before."
March 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko heard the tiny bell ring over the door as she entered the shop. The elderly proprietor, Aito Hirayama bowed deeply and smiled warmly at Sachiko as she made her way to the counter.
"Ahh, Sachiko!!! You have not been in my shop for some time. Have you renounced me? said Mr. Hirayama.
"You know why I am here, and if you tell me that you have none I shall pray that this roof collapse upon your stupid and irresponsible head." said Sachiko angrily.
"We have been friends since childhood dear Sachiko. Why do you speak to me this way? If you are angry with me please tell me what I have done." replied Mr. Hirayama.
Sachiko's attitude was at once mollified. "I am not angry with you Aito-san, I am angry with myself. I am old now and my mind does not work as it once did. I thought I had saved a second packet but I cannot find it. The anniversary approaches and I am in a panic. If you do not have any you must get some for me immediately! Please Aito-san, please do not disappoint me." Sachiko appeared ready to cry.
"Sachiko, Sachiko, please calm down, I have a goodly supply. I always overstock just for you. You know that I have always had a special place in my heart for you since we were children. Have you forgotten Sachiko? I have never forgotten."
For the first time Sachiko smiled. "May the gods of my ancestors bless you Aito. Please forgive my behavior."
Aito Hirayama took two packages from a drawer. "This you will pay for." said Aito Hirayama as he extended the small parcel wrapped in brown paper with his right hand. "And this extra portion is a gift, from me to you." he said as he extended his left.
"I'm sorry Aito." said Sachiko.
"Oh, go on! You have already said that." replied Mr. Hirayama.
"No, Aito. I mean for the other. You know I always thought fondly of you but …"
"Yes Sachiko." Mr. Hirayama whispered quietly. "I know."
======================================
Chapter III
February 1944
Kwajalein Island - Marshall Islands - Pacific Ocean
Sergeant Matteo jumped off the truck before it had finished rolling to a stop.
"OK Keaton, this is where I want the trucks tonight. Right here. The engineers made a hell of a lot of progress today and I want everything to be set up tonight half-way between where they are now and where we expect them to finish tomorrow morning so we can light em up in both directions. Drive back and get O'Malley, and Ack-Ack to bring up the other trucks." said Sergeant Matteo.
"Sure thing sarge. We got plenty of time though - five more hours before sundown." said, Private Keaton.
"Yeah but I want to be already done setting up by sundown in case we have any glitches in the hardware we might have to fix like last time."
"Whatever you say sarge." replied Private Keaton as he sped away in the truck they had just arrived in.
Vincent stood all alone beside the tree line of jungle growth and decided this would be a good time to empty his bowels. As he walked toward the tree line he stumbled upon a fallen branch. He threw his arms outward to balance himself and froze in that position. Twenty feet in front of him was a Japanese soldier with a rifle pointed directly at his chest. Sergeant Matteo's mind raced to remember the prayer he was taught to say in Catholic school when one is aware of impending death but he could not remember it. He remained standing with his arms outstretched, weaponless, and devoid of all hope.
The Japanese soldier was extremely dirty and his clothes were torn and filthy. His left arm and head were wrapped in blood soaked bandages. He walked with a limp out of the tree line and stood facing Sergeant Matteo with his rifle elevated. And then he spoke ….
"Bee-Bee Root chan-dy bah. Me-eat one-time." he then, impossibly, winked. He lowered the Ariska 99 rifle, smiled, and then ejected the shell. With the breach left open he held the rifle horizontally, despite the pain in his arm, and presented it to Vincent Matteo. Corporal Katsu Kotako had decided that the reverence he owed to the prospect of being reunited with his wife and daughter was more sacred to him than the reverence he held for his rifle.
Vincent slowly lowered his arms and had taken two steps forward when sound of the rifle blast exploded in his ears. He saw the Japanese soldier lurch backwards and looking over his own right shoulder saw a Marine soiled in dirt and mud, with one pant leg of his trousers torn off, and his right leg bandaged.
"You owe me one, Flashlight. I just saved your life." said the Marine.
"What the hell you talking about you stinking piece of sh*t? The kid was surrendering!" said Sergeant Matteo.
Sergeant Matteo ran to the fallen Japanese soldier and in his own ignorance of battlefield wounds resulting from his lack of battlefield experience was unaware that the injury was mortal. The soldier was still lucid but fading fast.
"You're gonna be OK kid. I got some trucks coming any minute now We'll get you to a field hospital."
Corporal Katsu Kotako raised his arm and touched Vincent's face. He then pointed over Vincent's shoulder at the sky.
"Do you see? Do you see, American soldier? Look up into the sky. Do you see the pretty clouds? They are boats which have come to take me home."
"I don't know what you're saying kid. You'll be OK. We'll fix you up good as new." said Sergeant Matteo.
Corporal Katsu Kotako then began to sing, "Boats sail on the riv-er, ships sail on the sea. Boats that sail a-cross the skies are pr……."
Corporal Kotako's lips stopped moving, his face became serene - a white, alabaster monument to his times, his gentle eyes were fixed upon boats sailing upon a cobalt-blue sky.
"Hey that's a nice rifle. The little monkey must have taken good care of it." said the Marine. "This is the one I'm gonna send home to my kid brother."
"He was surrendering, you son of a b;tch! What did you have to shoot him for? He could have killed me but he didn't!"
"Do you know what these bastards do to our men when they capture them? They behead them, that's what. What's your problem Flashlight? Get out of the way, I want that rifle."
"You're not gonna touch that rifle!" said Sergeant Matteo as he hurled himself upon the Marine.
Back home Vincent was a street-wise kid who could more than hold his own in a fist fight, but he was no match for the crusty, battle-hardened, and trained killing machine embodied in the Marine. Half-maniacal from battle the Marine soon had Vincent on his back, and as Vincent squeezed upon the Marine's throat with both his hands the Marine delivered the first blow to Vincent's jaw. Vincent saw an explosion of stars but he did not release his grip on the Marine's throat. The second blow landed on the side of Vincent's head sending a shockwave through him which caused his arms to fall. The Marine had lifted his fist to land a final, devastating punch but restrained himself at the last moment. Rolling off of Vincent he stood looking down at him.
"OK Flashlight. The rifle's yours. You earned it the hard way. But every time you look at it just remember that I saved your life. I saved your life - get it? Leave things where they are Flashlight. Your word against mine. You'd never, ever make it stick. You'll only make a fool of yourself." said the Marine, as he trudged back into the undergrowth.
In the distance, twenty men who had heard the rifle report were hurrying to the scene from the airstrip with weapons.
March 2014
St. Louis, Missouri - U.S.A.
Uncle Paul and his nephew, Joseph Matteo sat together for fifteen minutes without speaking. Then, Uncle Paul rose wordlessly and left the room. A moment later he returned with a bottle of bourbon.
"I know it's pretty early in the day for this ..." began Uncle Paul.
"Pour it out. Pour it straight, and pour it big." said Joe Matteo. "Is there anything we can do? It might mean something to the soldier's family if they knew what happened ... that he refused to kill dad I mean. I feel we owe them. We owe them at least something."
"Your dad said they couldn't find out anything about him. Your dad tried, too. He tried very hard. We will never know who they are, and they will never know who we are either Joey. I imagine they must have wondered how he died. Maybe it would mean something to them to know what happened, but there's nothing to be done about it."
The two men sat in silence on Uncle Paul's back porch, sipping bourbon as they watched a graceful and leisurely procession clouds passing over the hillside.
April 2014
Aichi Prefecture - Honshu - Japan
Sachiko dusted the butsudan - the shrine to her ancestors located in the corner of the visiting room of her home - for the fourth time. She must change into her kimono before the guests arrive. She had placed the picture of her father in the center of the butsudan for this evening's gathering of friends and family.
She did not know the day her father died. After the war the military records proved very difficult from which to obtain information even of his posting. She knew he had been in Guam for her mother had told her so, but beyond that the waters were murky. As a result she had chosen the month of April - the entire month of April - to honor her father.
She was reminded of a day she had spent with her father in April. It was one of only very few memories of him that remained with her. She had been three years old and he had taken her to see the cherry blossoms in bloom. As he carried her in his arms beneath the beautiful canopy of pink-flowered branches which lined either side of the path through the city gardens he sang to her a song. She remembered it well though it was sung to her so many years ago.
Sachiko opened one of the small, brown papered parcels she had obtained from Mr. Hirayama and poured some of the brown crystals into the incense cup and lit it. Next she lit the tall candles on either side of her father's picture. She would repeat this ritual daily for the remainder of the month. Sachiko watched the sweetly-scented smoke of the incense as well as the darker smoke of the candles rise before her father's picture and then drift to the left of the butsudan, and then further trail to a window which opened upon the sight of her own cherry trees which were now in full bloom.
Sachiko began to sing her father's song.
Boats sail on the rivers.
Ships sail on the seas.
Boats that sail across the skies
Are prettier far than these,
Than ... these
Than-these,
Than-these.
Sachiko smiled to see the incense smoke rise and mingle with the puffy white clouds framed in the window between the flowering cherry branches ... all painted upon a cobalt-blue sky.
Finis
“I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed reading accident. I hit a book mark and flew across the room.”
― Steven Wright
― Steven Wright
-
Joeobrien1
- Posts: 11
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Article Review
By J. F. O’Brien
Boats That Sail Across The Skies
By DATo
This is a short story of World War II and two young men (Soldiers). One, Vincent Matteo, was from America and the other, Katsu Kotako, was from Japan. The author leads each through the Pacific war until they meet on the island of Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands. Matteo was an engineer sergeant in charge of setting up floodlights for other engineers building air strips and had not been any heavy fighting. He was walking into some trees to answer the call of nature when he met Kotako who had been in the fighting looking really beat up. Kotako aimed his gun at Matteo and then lowered it opened the bolt and offered it to him. As Matteo was reaching for the gun he heard another go off and Kotako went down with a bullet in the chest. Matteo looked around and it was a mud Marine looking just as bad as Kotako. They had an argument about shooting Kotako and fight over the rifle. Although Matteo loses the marine gives him the rifle and walks off after telling Matteo he just saved his life.
Matteo was never able to find out the name of the Japanese who died that day and dies at ninety and is buried with military honors.. He had entertained his children and grandchildren with funny stories about the war for years but it weighed so much on him he never told the story about the dead Japanese. He did tell his youngest brother who, after the funural, told Matteo’s oldest son and gave him the rifle with no way to return it. Kotako was surrendering so he could go home to see his infant daughter. She did not know where her father had been killed or when but she burned incense and lit candles for a month each year in his honor. Now she was an old lady and still followed the old customs that are disappearing.
This story is very believable. The characters are authentic Matteo falls into a good job because he is an electrician and Kotako dreams of home with his wife and daughter. They both look at clouds throughout the story and imagine what the shapes resemble. As Kotako dies he talks about the clouds above that look like Boats Sailing Across the Sky but Matteo, doesn’t understand.
This was a moving story for me, especially when it was revealed Matteo never told his children about the gun. I had many uncles who were in WWII some of them like my uncle John who was in the 82nd Airborne from North Africa to The D-Day jump and the Battle of the Bulge and my stepfather who was a crew chief on a B-24 in Chine/India. When I asked Uncle John what he did on D-Day he said he spent his time snooping and pooping. Neither of them ever talked about the fighting, just the funny things that happened and the problems they had with the real echelon commandos. I have a picture of my stepfather’s plane where he was the top turret gunner and there are ten Japanese flags painted on the fuselage, but he never mentioned combat.
This story is a microcosm of what went on in WWII. It is well written and interesting. It pulls you in from the first line to the end. I would recommend it to anyone who likes either human interest or war stories. It fits both categories. I rate it four stars out of four.
J.F. O’Brien
By J. F. O’Brien
Boats That Sail Across The Skies
By DATo
This is a short story of World War II and two young men (Soldiers). One, Vincent Matteo, was from America and the other, Katsu Kotako, was from Japan. The author leads each through the Pacific war until they meet on the island of Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands. Matteo was an engineer sergeant in charge of setting up floodlights for other engineers building air strips and had not been any heavy fighting. He was walking into some trees to answer the call of nature when he met Kotako who had been in the fighting looking really beat up. Kotako aimed his gun at Matteo and then lowered it opened the bolt and offered it to him. As Matteo was reaching for the gun he heard another go off and Kotako went down with a bullet in the chest. Matteo looked around and it was a mud Marine looking just as bad as Kotako. They had an argument about shooting Kotako and fight over the rifle. Although Matteo loses the marine gives him the rifle and walks off after telling Matteo he just saved his life.
Matteo was never able to find out the name of the Japanese who died that day and dies at ninety and is buried with military honors.. He had entertained his children and grandchildren with funny stories about the war for years but it weighed so much on him he never told the story about the dead Japanese. He did tell his youngest brother who, after the funural, told Matteo’s oldest son and gave him the rifle with no way to return it. Kotako was surrendering so he could go home to see his infant daughter. She did not know where her father had been killed or when but she burned incense and lit candles for a month each year in his honor. Now she was an old lady and still followed the old customs that are disappearing.
This story is very believable. The characters are authentic Matteo falls into a good job because he is an electrician and Kotako dreams of home with his wife and daughter. They both look at clouds throughout the story and imagine what the shapes resemble. As Kotako dies he talks about the clouds above that look like Boats Sailing Across the Sky but Matteo, doesn’t understand.
This was a moving story for me, especially when it was revealed Matteo never told his children about the gun. I had many uncles who were in WWII some of them like my uncle John who was in the 82nd Airborne from North Africa to The D-Day jump and the Battle of the Bulge and my stepfather who was a crew chief on a B-24 in Chine/India. When I asked Uncle John what he did on D-Day he said he spent his time snooping and pooping. Neither of them ever talked about the fighting, just the funny things that happened and the problems they had with the real echelon commandos. I have a picture of my stepfather’s plane where he was the top turret gunner and there are ten Japanese flags painted on the fuselage, but he never mentioned combat.
This story is a microcosm of what went on in WWII. It is well written and interesting. It pulls you in from the first line to the end. I would recommend it to anyone who likes either human interest or war stories. It fits both categories. I rate it four stars out of four.
J.F. O’Brien
-
DATo
- Previous Member of the Month
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- Joined: 31 Dec 2011, 07:54
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@Joeobrien1,
Many thanks for your review and kind words. This story is admittedly long and I doubted that anyone would be willing to invest the time to read it. I'm happy to learn that it did not disappoint you.
The underlying theme of this story is the constancy of time which is symbolized by the parade of clouds through history. The theme of this story is loosely based upon my interpretation of the symbolism in David Mitchell's novel, Cloud Atlas.
I am not entirely satisfied with my writing in this story. The phrasing leaves much to be desired. In fact, the only stories I have ever written which I am satisfied with are Werewolf and The Secret Recipe. Someday I plan on rewriting this one because it is of special interest to me.
/
Many thanks for your review and kind words. This story is admittedly long and I doubted that anyone would be willing to invest the time to read it. I'm happy to learn that it did not disappoint you.
The underlying theme of this story is the constancy of time which is symbolized by the parade of clouds through history. The theme of this story is loosely based upon my interpretation of the symbolism in David Mitchell's novel, Cloud Atlas.
I am not entirely satisfied with my writing in this story. The phrasing leaves much to be desired. In fact, the only stories I have ever written which I am satisfied with are Werewolf and The Secret Recipe. Someday I plan on rewriting this one because it is of special interest to me.
/
“I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed reading accident. I hit a book mark and flew across the room.”
― Steven Wright
― Steven Wright
-
stanley
- Posts: 84
- Joined: 21 Oct 2015, 13:15
- Bookshelf Size: 15
- Reviewer Page: onlinebookclub.org/reviews/by-stanley.html
- Latest Review: "Return to the Go-Go" by William Peskett
The ambitious scope of this story was impressive, in that it embraced macro movements in time and space as it depicted individual lives caught up in the colossal tragedy of World War Two. I thought that the device of clearly marking scenes for time, place and points of view was effective, and that the writing moved from one time and place to another smoothly as a result. You say that you intend to come back and rework the language. Maybe you'll find, when you do that, a multitude of departure points for other stories that stand on their own or maybe become chapters in a novel. It will be interesting to see.
Latest Review: "Return to the Go-Go" by William Peskett
