"The Last Reunion"

By Jose Medina

As the new millennium opens, the greatest generation draws to a close. The December of their years are closing fast. Soon the men and women who lived through the war will only be memories.

The Last Reunion depicts the experience and turmoil that they encountered through the years by using their unit (Seventy-Seventh Infantry Division) reunions as milestones.

The central character is a platoon sergeant who leads them through the war years and remained close to certain members of his platoon and squad.

The story begins with the sergeants death and the subsequent discovery by his wife of a long-held secret the sergeant had hidden in an old war chest. The story flashes back to the battle for the island of Okinawa, his units participation, and real events that occurred there such as the death of Ernie Pyle, a war correspondent universally respected by the grunts and military personnel and widely known for his novel Here is Your War in 43.

The story shifts to the first reunion held in Atlanta in 56. Racial attitudes and the widening gap between the white and colored citizens are portrayed against the new enlightenment of the veterans. The old ways are being challenged and many of the vets are questioning what, exactly, did they fight for? The America they fought for has changed dramatically. They see the vanquished nations they fought against reasserting themselves and becoming allies. The stability of the democracy is becoming more fragile, and the promises they thought would follow victory become hollow.

Alcoholism, isolation, resentment, and confusion haunt the sergeant as he tries to fit into the world he now finds himself in. His wife tries to help him resolve his turmoil only to find that, the more she tries to help, the more isolated he becomes.

As the decades pass, more and more of the men of the platoon die, some in circumstances that mock their experiences during the war. Each reunion reflects the dwindling numbers of those able to attend.

As the veterans mature, they make a salutary peace with the past and present. But the wife of the sergeant does not find peace with her husband but a cease-fire. She comes to accept that he is what he is and understands that whatever changed him cannot be undone.

After the discovery of the secret in the war chest, she attends the last or final reunion and discovers the event her husband guarded so severely.

She then attempts to resolve the issue and finally begins to understand why the person who left her to go to war never returned.

www.JoseMedinabooks.com

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524644000

Book preview

"THE LAST

REUNION"

JOSE MEDINA

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©

2016 Jose Medina. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 11/11/2016

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4401-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4399-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-4400-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016916675

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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Death

Chapter 2 The squad

Chapter 3 The Trip to Atlanta

Chapter 4 the ¹st reunion

Chapter 5 Confronting the Demons

Chapter 6 Changing times

Chapter 7 Goodbye Eddie

Chapter 8 Passing the colors

Chapter 9 The Last Reunion

Epilogue

References

About the Author

The Last Reunion

By Jose Medina

Chapter 1

Death

Dead men by mass production-

In one country after another-

Month after month and year after

Year. Dead man in winter and

Dead man in summer.

Dead men in such familiar promiscuity

That they become monotonous, Dead

Men in such monstrous infinity that you

Come to hate them….

E. Pyle 18 April 1945

May sat alone in the living room, parlor she liked to call it; As if the room, like many of the artifacts in it, were of the Victorian age. She had just buried her husband, Mike, of over fifty years and the silence like his death was terminal. She looked around the room; the walls contained the history of their life together. A mosaic depicting snapshots of time irrevocably stopped. Like the item that was nestled in her lap the indication that Mike had served his country, the reminder of a time in his life where honor and chaos prevailed.

It was the ceremonial flag of the United States given to the families of deceased veterans. The flag was folded in the shape of a triangle, the stars immersed in a field of blue.

Mike died quickly and quietly in the very same chair she now sat in. She found him and thinking he was alive, asked him why he was always staring at the photos. There were times he looked at them and cried lamenting them as if they represented some unimaginable sorrow. Other times, his eyes so blue, were filled with a translucent joy.

She glanced at his open eyes and so thought him awake, she then upon realizing he was gone lovingly she brushed his eyes closed with her fingertips. Then kissed his forehead and caressed his cheek as her hand trembled slightly. Was he finally at peace, she wondered?

She looked around the room, smelling the aroma, hearing the sounds of long ago, which were now permanently silent. Relatives and friends had left after the funeral, even the children had not lingered long, for they knew how isolation had the power to heal her. It had been that way during the war, during his absences and illness. She had a strength which encompassed her more when alone. She was like a lighthouse in a storm, the moon in a starless night. No one understood this more than Mike her husband and the only one who she would now trade her solitary void for.

The room, like May, had grown old, as did the house, the neighborhood and even her children. She focused on the pictures of the grandchildren, placed so carefully on the wall by Mike. You have to remove some of them, or they all won’t fit, she scolded him so many times. But he would just drive another nail into the wall and mount the pictures.

Mike: Let me be, he would say. They belong to all of us.

Us? May would wonder aloud. Who are us? She thought silently; thinking he meant the two of them. I know that, she would say. But Mikes eyes where distant, not here but somewhere in the past as if he had returned to some far off and far away place, a place she could never know or visualize.

She got up and took the flag to the hall closet. She would find a place for it or give it to Ellen, her oldest child. The ceremonial flag was something that should be passed on to the rest of the family she told herself. As she placed the flag on the shelf, she spotted a sliver of white below her. It was tucked into the pocket of Mikes’ old blue sweater. The blue knitted thing he seemed to wear all winter long. She had bought him at least three replacements, but he never wore them. Keeps me warm, he would say, that’s all I need. The sliver was a letter or what she thought was a letter. She sat down again, curious, because Mike never mentioned getting a letter. As she opened the paper, she smiled because she recognized what it was and was a bit relieved that it was not some secret that Mike kept hidden from her. It was an invitation to his old Army unit’s reunion. Co K, 3rd Bn, 305th inf, 77th Div., was written on the letterhead. The letter was dated last month and asked to RSVP by the 30th of April. Why, that was just three days away, she muttered. Mike had not attended the reunions since Billy Evans, his old army buddy, died. Too far and too much crappola, Mike would say. The 1st reunion was held in Atlanta, Georgia, where Shorty (Ben Short) lived. It was Shorty, always the meticulous organizer, who had started the reunion. Mike and May lived on Long Island, New York, and travelling had just become too much for them. I guess I should let them know he’s gone, she thought. Somehow she assumed that his VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) buddies would take care of that. She glanced at the phone; Mike always chided her because she was always eager to complete her tasks as soon as possible. You never leave anything undone, he would mutter and then follow with, something’s can’t be done, and something’s shouldn’t be done. He would shake his head and let her to her chores. There was sullenness’ in Mikes demeanor at times, like he was angry. It could be over something simple or it could be something great, she never knew how he would react. She thought at times that he was a kettle boiling. But for all of that he rarely left things undone himself, had little patience for laziness.

So, in spite of Mikes’ unspoken admonition, she picked up the phone.

A female voice responded. ‘Hello, this is Mrs. May Johnson, Mike Johnson’s wife.’ She said. Yes Mrs. Johnson, how are you and Mr. Johnson? May silently recoiled at the response. My husband passed away four days ago, May said quickly. Oh, I am so sorry, said the voice sadly. Her reply was followed by what seemed a long silence, each deciding who should speak first. The woman spoke first; I am Terri, Ben Short’s daughter, Shorty as he was known to the fellas. Sure, said May, I remember Mike talking about him. The women said, Shorty died five years ago, and I’m organizing the reunion as a promise to my dad. I tried to attend most of the reunions with Dad to help him with the complexities. Even though the reunion was scaled down to the regiment only, there were still many details to accomplish. That’s so good of you, said May, I am sure the boys will appreciate it, but Mike never said anything.

Terri: They never do. My name is Theresa, Terri you can call me. It seems that when they hear of one of them passing away, they nod their heads and retreat from the present. They talk about the past, said, Terri. But as a group their talk tends to be about something funny and they wind up laughing a lot. At one reunion, when I knew my dad’s health was failing, I told the men that dad wished they would let me continue the reunion, if it was ok. They said it was ok with them, but added that it was just like Shorty, always taking charge, always thinking ahead. Later in the evening, after some of them had a few drinks the stories started. I usually left them alone, but I had to retrieve some things from the room. They were talking about my dad, how he had organized a soft ball game and found there weren’t any bats. Forget about softball we’re gonna play football he exclaimed. They all cracked up at the story.

I guess they will be telling stories about my Mike this year, said May. Unfortunately, Mikes not the only one, there has been three others who died and at least two more are not coming because they are too ill. Age and time are catching up with them," said Terri.

The conversation ended and May thought about the attic. There stored for many years was Mikes old foot locker. The key to the lock on the chest was among Mike’s key ring, hanging in the garage. May made a point of never invading his privacy, but somehow the moment and circumstances compelled her to get it and look. Up the steps she went, thinking that it was years since she went up there. She and Mike always talked about clearing it out but somehow they never got around to it, thank god. Or maybe, she thought, this wasn’t a good idea. But like the cat that let curiosity rule the day, she continued with her investigation.

The chest was in the corner and the light poor and played shadows on the things stored there, like a horror story she thought. The floor was squeaking with spider and dust webs permeating the space. She soon had the chest open, and everything seemed tidy and free of any dust. She quickly glanced around and the first thing that caught her eye was a small notebook, something that would fit in a pocket. Written on the inside cover was Mikes name and serial number and May’s old address in Bayshore. Underneath those items Mike had written "If found please send to my girlfriend May, at above address.

The first page as all the rest was written in Mikes’ tight and careful printed letters.

The first word was Guam.

Arrived today from Hawaii. It’s warm and sunny and I can smell the vegetation yet I can hear small arms fire in the distance. I guess I am in the real war now. I am anxious to meet up with the fellas, especially Billy. But I’m also nervous about how I’ll hold up when the heat is on. Scuttlebutt on the ship was that the island was secured, but still some Japs running loose. We’ll see.

Reported to the company CO and he assigned me to Billy’s squad. Great.

May, if you get this it’s probably means I’m dead or seriously injured. It’s against regs to have a diary in a war zone, but I feel it’s important. I’m keeping dates and military info out of this, just in case. Anyways, what can they do that hasn’t been done or will be done?

Up here we believe it’s a matter of fate.

Found the guys and men, boy do they look old, they say our CO and top kick are great and our squad leader has smarts and has been around, that’s a plus. Some of the guys are KIA, but not anyone I know. We’re in the real stuff, no doubt about that.

May, I’m going in now with the guys. If something happens, know that I love you and that I did the best I could to make this world a better place. Here goes!

In early February of ’45 company K for King had a complement of two-hundred and thirty five enlisted men and officers. The next campaign in Okinawa would reduce that figure to less than one hundred. During the battle for those islands, the unit received replacements for those killed, wounded or incapacitated. So including the replacements received Company K of the 305th infantry regiment lost over 400 men killed, wounded or missing in action. The Division went into operation assigned to the 10th Army, commanded by Lt. Gen Simon Bolivar Buckner. The action was titled operation Iceberg. Its mission was to attack a group of islands known as the Ryukyus, with the island of Okinawa at its mid-point. The battle was to be the last land battle of the war and was to usher in the atomic age. Okinawa would be the initial phase of the invasion of Japan. The Ryukyus are part of the greater Japanese Empire since they took them from the Chinese centuries ago. The people of Okinawa were treated as second-class citizens by the Japanese. Japan was a hegemony over the Okinawans. Many of them were conscripted into labor battalions and militia. Those in the militia received very little military equipment and training.

The island of Okinawa is 60 miles long and between 8 to 16 miles wide. It is 500 nautical miles from Tokyo and its capture would nullify Japanese forces on island of Taiwan and threaten those on mainland China where military intelligence reported a strength of over one million Japanese military personnel. Operation Iceberg would also provide a staging area for the final assault on the main land of Japan itself. The Japanese considered the Ryukyus part of Japanese mainland and were prepared to defend the islands to the death. The butcher’s bill, at the termination of hostilities at the end of June 1945, for the United States casualties, both killed and wounded would amount to over fifty thousand (as many as the combined total of union and confederates troops at Gettysburg) This carnage would contribute greatly to President Truman’s decision to use the