Under The Polish Moon: A Discrete Inquiries Novel, #1

By Robert R. Green

Serving in the Army is an experience all of its own as Walt was soon to learn.  His assignment of working in a stockade resulted in friendships that carried over into civilian life.  After their discharge, four friends joined together to operate Discrete Inquiries, a private investigation agency.

They soon became embroiled in a case involving a young girl, her family and the hoodlums who preyed upon her.  The unfeeling judge, an unfair assistant DA and the solutions of Walt and his associates makes for interesting reading.  Some unique handling of those responsible for the problems with more than a few breath-holding events will keep your interest, if not always earning your approval.

Under the Polish Moon is about life and the problems some of us face.  We see the kind of people who try to harm us and those who live their lives trying to be of help.

Walt’s humor shows through even in the trying times.  The character’s lives and loves are probably similar to people you know.  Maybe even yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert R. Green
• Release date: Nov 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781460966235

Robert R. Green

Robert R. Green graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison where he took a strong interest in writing and has been writing ever since. His first short story in Freshman Creative Writing earned him an A+. He held numerous jobs and served in the U.S. Army. During his life he has visited all 50 states and been privileged to travel through parts of over 70 countries.  He has lived in six states and temporarily in Germany. Although he has been writing various stories and articles in publications for more than 45 years, his books are recent additions in his life. Bob’s books include Longhorns and Other People, a series of short stories, and a second short story book titled, Everyone’s Different, followed by the most recent short story book, Just Like An Elephant. He also wrote a series of creative fiction action novels:  Under the Polish Moon, Discrete Justice, Silent Sentinels, Discrete Security, Breeda, and his latest, Beyond Breeda, the sixth in the Discrete Inquiries series. Bob, and his wife Barbara, now live in Arizona which he feels offers weather that is kinder to his body. You can contact Bob by email:  [e-mail].

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Robert R. Green

A Discrete Inquiries Novel

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except as permitted by law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Cover Photo Used by Permission of Rockwell Automation

Copyright 2011 by Robert R. Green

ISBN -10:1460966236

To all those friends and faithful newsletter readers

who always said...you should write a book...

Now we’ll see if you were right!

Dedicated to my wife Barb with a

special thanks for her excellent editing.

Prologue

What the hell am I doing? 

Puffing almost too much to think, but the mind keeps rattling on.  I...just...wonder why I get into these things...well I’m at least over half way.  Damn, it hurts.

Such are the thoughts of a young man in just fair shape trying to run a mile around a track in the balcony above a school basketball court.  The fact is nobody gives a damn how fast he runs.  The exercise has only one purpose.  Will the body take the punishment or will it show up some physical defect.

After everyone finishes the run they are all treated to adding several sets of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, crunches and other body punishing exercises.  A few have to quit and seem to hang their heads wondering what is in store for them.  The rest continue to punish their bodies—and swear.

There is a change in the attitude of the participants.  Now it isn’t so much why am I doing this, it’s more like I’ll show those bastards.  The morning seems to have passed the I wonder stage and jumped into the I can do this crap stage.

The guy in charge gives a short speech about something, but most aren’t really listening. Then he says you’ll hear from us.  A few of the guy’s linger and bullshit as they

shower and get dressed.  The morning is over and most

of them are pretty hungry.  They all move off with their own thoughts and purposes.  Now it’s hurry up and wait until the Milwaukee Police Department notifies those who have passed and will be invited to join the force as a patrolman. 

Willard W. Wickman is glad it’s over.

1.

Willard never warmed up to his first name so he chose to go by Walt, a shortening of his middle name. His name was hung on him as a tribute to his maternal grandfather.  Not really a bad thing since Walt always liked the old man.  They had fun every time they were together.  Old Willard supported Walt in almost every decision. 

The only time there was no support was when 11-year old Walt took the car keys off his dad’s bedroom dresser.  He intended to try out the family car in the driveway, but grandpa saw him. The lecture from Old Willard was short, but his look of disappointment really cut into Walt.  It was a tough and lasting lesson for a young boy.

School wasn’t too bad.  Walt’s mom had taught in a one-room schoolhouse where she had some 8th graders older than herself. Like all teachers she was driven to keep educating whoever and whenever possible.  By the time Walt got to kindergarten he was way past sounding of words and counting.  He advanced to first grade in a few months.

Her family emigrated from Ireland and retained their Irish pride and sense of humor.  Walt’s mom could be heard to say many unusual comments.  When he was having trouble making up his mind about something she would say, You’ll be a long time dead.

Walt never did quite figure out what she meant by, If, if, stood in the corner stiff, or Make out the light.  Having a temper, Walt would get mad and say, I’ll kill him! to which his mother would just say, You can’t; it’s against the law.

Walt’s dad worked for a large company.  The only way to advance and receive a promotion was to move to a new city.  The move put Walt back into the first grade for an extra half year since the new town had no midterm graduations.  They stayed in that small Wisconsin town until he graduated from high school.

The small town consolidated school had rural and farm kids in every class.  It made for a rounded education, often to Walt’s embarrassment.  One such time was when several of them sat together at lunch enjoying milk with the main dish of macaroni and cheese.  Walt soon became sorry he asked what they meant when they said the cow freshened. 

One of the farm girls enjoyed watching his ears turn red when he found out, in farm terms, how the cow was bred and after the calf was born, she freshened.  You just pull her teats and strip out the milk, you dumb city clunk.  All females get milk after they’ve had a baby.  The harassment was tough enough, but since she talked so loud, everyone else at the nearby tables listened and just roared.

During 12 years of school there were many more painful explanations from other farm girls and guys.  They all knew Walt would be great to poke fun at.  In later years it got a little less embarrassing and sort of fun, even for him.

Graduation was time for a huge sigh of relief.  If you received grades in the top 1/3 of the class you could apply for the state college or university with almost a 100% chance of being accepted.  Walt made it and went off to school.

College was not too hard and you could coast along if you paid attention in class and just did the assignments.  Walt found two ways to work his way through school and then use the summers and holidays to get money for tuition, room and books.  He managed to get a job in the biggest girls’ dorm washing dishes.  That gave him his meals in a really great location.

Man, I should be paying them, he told his roommate one night.

Walt found he enjoyed the compulsory ROTC classes, so signed up for a six-year enlistment.  The last two years included some pay which made school activities more affordable.  You dumb Irish Mick’s always end up being cops, his roommate said when he was assigned to the Military Police Corps. 

Work was a way of life for Walt.  He had always had a job since before he was 16.  He was able to put himself through college by working full time each summer and school breaks.  Then the part-time work during school gave him spending money.

Upon graduation and receiving his commission as a second lieutenant, Walt was off to join a MP Company in Michigan.  They were assigned to Fort Custer, Michigan, which also housed the Stockade, a collecting point for all military prisoners within the 5th Army.

A new education for a young 22 year-old kid was just beginning.  Walt was excited about his new career, but in the back of his mind he felt his goal was to become a private detective.  He liked the law enforcement field, but wanted to end up being his own boss.  Hopefully in the Private Investigation field.

Walt had a company of 30 reserves, or as they were called, part-time soldiers.  He was also assigned as a prison officer of the day.  The company duty took most of the day and then as a prison officer he was scheduled with a 24-hour shift at the stockade.  They had about 300 prisoners.  That meant 32 hours on, then eight hours off and it started all over. 

You know a guy could get tired doing this, Walt told his captain one day.  Walt was surprised when the captain smirked and remarked, oh you think?

It was soon apparent that military prisoners had nothing to lose and were often showing their distaste to being ordered around.  Every morning at 5:30AM all prisoners were turned out into the field between the barracks for roll call and then exercise.  It was snowing.  Walt would read a name and wait for the required answer, Here Sir.  After about five answers, the next response was Yeah followed by snickering. 

Walt repeated the name with the same results two more times.  His tone was controlled and quiet as he said, I’m plenty warm and have eaten.  After all, I lived in Alaska, so this weather is great.  Now we can stand out here all day while your breakfast gets cold and I wait for the correct response.  The Here, Sir reply was finally called out even though it was a little surly.

I didn’t know you were from Alaska, Sergeant Lowell said.

Sometimes I lie.

2.

Ft. Custer Stockade had high fences with coiled razor wire on top and guard towers at each corner.  Lieutenant Walt‘s responsibility included keeping the guards alert especially during the hours of darkness.  Hours of darkness are a misnomer.  Huge bright flood lights make the entire area totally visible, sometimes even brighter at night than in the daytime.  A non-scheduled and varying visit was just a part of the officer’s responsibility in keeping the entire system running along as it should. One never knew what to expect.

One evening about midnight, Walt climbed up into guard tower number 3.  The guards were alert and attentive.   Hey Lieutenant, what you doing up so late?

Just thought you guys needed watching so you don’t doze off.

Something caught Walt’s eye in the barracks.  A shadowy figure moved around in the dark barbershop on the second floor.  A walkie-talkie radio allowed Walt and Sergeant Lowell to set up a minor investigation.

Hey Sarge, check out the barbershop in Barracks 3

What am I looking for Lieutenant?

I’m not sure but one of our funny boys is up there crawling around and he’s not getting a haircut.

As Walt watched the barbershop, Sergeant Lowell quietly made his way to the barracks and up to the room set-aside as the barbershop.  The shadow turned out to be one of the enterprising prisoners busy making coffee.  Such late night activities are forbidden, although not terribly serious.  They were just another way the prisoners had to test the army and its officers while chipping away at authority.

What happened up there, Sarge? Walt asked.

Sergeant Lowell said, "As I quietly sneaked up the steps I could smell coffee and wondered how that could be. 

It seems the prisoner cut off a two wire cord and plug from an iron.  He scraped the wire insulation off at each end back about one inch.  Then he found two pieces of old thin copper sheeting about one inch by three inches.  He poked a hole in the end of each piece of copper with something.  The bare wire ends were threaded through the holes and securely twisted together creating a cord with copper ends hanging off of each of the wires.  Lowell explained.

Walt had to really control his tendency to laugh when the incident was fully explained.  In fact the actual event showed a lot of talent. Then what? Walt said.

Seems he got an empty gallon peach can, filled it with water and then threw in coffee pilfered from the mess hall.  Sitting under the sink in the barbershop, he positioned the copper strips into the water with the coffee and holding it away from the edge of the can and about an inch apart.  Then he plugged in the cord, Lowell paused to laugh. 

Electricity flowed down each wire to the copper strips.  By adjusting them close, but not touching, electricity arced from one strip to the other.  The electricity flowing between the two wires arced from one side to the other and created enough heat to make the water boil.

Too bad he didn’t touch them together and we’d have had fireworks, Walt said.

Well I did shake him up when I said, ‘What the hell you doing?’  He pulled the wires out so fast that they touched and burned his fingers.  Then he straightened up and banged his head on the sink.

He did what? said Walt laughing.  I’ll be right in and we’ll talk to our new Thomas Edison. The inmate had some privileges cancelled and received a serious lecture to impress him with the danger of his nighttime actions.

I’m not at all sure the lecture did much good other than to give Barracks 3 some fun things to laugh about for a few days.  Hopefully the inmates were not aware of the humor we found in the incident, said Lowell

Walt was thinking how lucky he was.  Sergeant Charles Lowell was assigned to Walt’s company and became his Sergeant.  Lowell had been in the army for 18 years.  During the Korean War he received a battlefield commission and finished as a Captain.  With the end of the war and the end of his enlistment the army gave him a choice.  He took the bonus and re-enlisted with a permanent rank of First Sergeant rather than return to inactive duty in the reserves. 

––––––––

How does it feel for a captain to be working for a fresh out of school college boy? asked Walt.

No question it beat hell out of freezing your ass off in Korea.

Lowell was pleased with his assignment and dreamed about making the new lieutenant look good.  It would be easy to mold him so his own duty would be even better.  He could actually be in charge without the full responsibility

3.

Walt was one of four new lieutenants who were assigned prison officer duties.  Every shift brought new challenges for on the job training.  The other three also received their commission in the reserves but unlike Walt had a lack of police or prison training.  Like all young men with added responsibility they sometimes tended to flout their authority.

Contrary to what many people think, prisoners do have their own code of ethics.  Often it is not what we consider a great code, but it is a code, Lowell told Walt.  When you accept that fact, their actions are much easier to understand.  Most prisoners also have way too much time to think.  They come up with some weird ways to pass the time.  You can never be completely sure what to expect next.

Lieutenant Chuck Johnson, also in his early 20’s, liked authority.  He often put down the company soldiers as well as the prisoners.  Most of his criticism was rather unimportant, but prisoners don’t always think like other soldiers. 

Why do you hassle the troops, Chuck?  Walt asked.  The way it looks to me they’re getting pretty fed up.  Some of them are pretty rough.  I’d watch my ass if I were you.

Don’t you worry about me.  I earned these bars and I’m in charge.  I want them all to know my word is law, he said.  Sadly, Lt. Chuck was about to get a hard lesson.

A nightly duty for the officer of the day was to take off your .45 automatic and check the stockade.  A sergeant should accompany you, but is not always available.  The task is to count the prisoners in each barracks looking for empty beds.  Johnson went into the stockade alone, not wanting to wait for the sergeant.  He counted prisoners in several of the barracks.  When he got to Barracks 4 those in the guard tower heard a major commotion.  The Sergeant on duty rushed in with two other soldiers to see what was happening.

When they snapped on the lights all prisoners were in their bunks.  Johnson was curled up moaning and leaving some of his blood on the wood barracks floor.  They took him out and off to the post hospital.  The doc on duty said, Boy, they sure did a job on him!  He’ll need some stitches and rest, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage.

They called Lt. Walt in to finish the shift.  He was in his apartment in the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters. What the hell happened? he asked.

Lieutenant Johnson was Officer of the Day and got blanket rolled.

Blanket rolled?  What the hell is that?

Well, when the bastards want to beat up someone they leave their boots on and go to bed.  Then when it’s good and dark and the guy walks by, they throw a blanket over him from a top bunk and everyone jumps up and kicks the shit out of him.  Then they leave their boots at the foot of the bed as usual, get back in bed and pretend to be sleeping.

So who did it?

We’ll likely never know for sure.

Jesus!

Yah, I know.  Maybe I’ll find out through the grape vine.

"Shit and I was just getting into an erotic dream.  Son of a bitch!  Roll