Anthony Lee Murphy: Goes to War

By David Barger

Young Anthony Murphy Fights the Great War!A teenager leaves high school to defend America's European friends from the Germans.He leaves the family farm with only a dollar in his Bible. What would you spend your only dollar on before going off to war?Uncharted highs and abysmal lows are part of real life. Follow Anthony on his trek to manhood through the Great War, a global pandemic, and deep young love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886543919

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Anthony Lee Murphy

Goes to War

David Barger

Copyright © 2022 David Barger

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 979-8-88654-389-6 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88654-391-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

About the Author

Chapter 1

The Departure (April 1917)

April 9 was no different than any day before it. We got up and did our chores. My brother Michael and I did the heavy stuff. We hauled water from the pump to the pigs and made sure all the big animals were fed. Our little sister, Mary Lea, was in the fifth grade. She fed the chickens, collected eggs, and things like that.

We walked the two miles to school and messed around outside until Miss Bruce called us to come in. One of the farmers had made her a triangle out of a metal rod. She beat on it to start the day and to end recess.

Altogether there were fifteen of us in our school, Miss Bruce had been my teacher since I started the first grade at age six. When I started school, there were seven of us. In those days, most of the kids went on to do something else when they finished the eighth grade. Margret and I were exceptions.

When my brother and I came in, Miss Bruce was standing behind her lectern. She normally began each day with the pledge to the American flag that hung in the corner. We always remained standing with our hands over our hearts until the pledge was finished. Today was different.

Children, take your seats please.

As was the case for the older children, I sat on the back row of our unpainted schoolroom. Margret Anderson, with her bright red hair, sat in the desk next to mine; as seniors, we each got desks to ourselves. We would be the first students to finish the senior year since the school was built in 1899.

My brother Michael sat in the back with us, even though he was officially in the eleventh grade. All three of the juniors got to sit on senior row because there were four double desks. Michael and Billy were at a desk together. Billy's twin sister, Mildred, had her own desk because she was Miss Bruce's pet, and because she didn't want to sit with her brother or Michael.

But even our normal seating arrangement didn't distract us from the unusual start to class. Something out of the ordinary was fixing to happen.

Miss Bruce waited until we were all seated before speaking again. On Monday, a week ago, President Wilson asked Congress to do something. She paused and looked at the calendar hanging on the side wall next to the window. Congress did what he asked last Friday. What day of the month was that?

I raised my hand, but she called on a fourth-grade girl.

It was the sixth.

Very good. The sixth of what?

The little girl answered, April.

That's correct. We need to remember the sixth of April because it is the day that Congress declared that the United States was at war against the German Empire. We all sucked in a gasp of air. Now don't ever forget the sixth of April 1917.

Franky held up his hand and immediately asked a question in his frog-like voice. Are we going to cancel school until we win?

No, we will continue to go to school. Groans. Some of our soldiers will go to Europe to help our friends. Our ships will make sure our friends get the supplies they need. Franky, go to the map and show the class where Germany is. Miss Bruce then glanced around, her gaze lingering for a bit on me, then Michael.

As Franky the frog got up and moved to the world map hanging on the side wall, I looked across at my brother. The whites of his eyes were completely visible around his brown irises. He ran his hand through his sandy hair and grinned like one of those carved-out smiles on a jack-o'-lantern.

We stood at the same time. I bent over and kissed Margret dead on the lips. Her eyes doubled in size, and she pulled back slightly, but I reckon it was a good kiss. When I looked at Miss Bruce, she nodded. I think I saw a tear trace down her cheek as we left our books on the desks and started home. I was eighteen years old. Michael was seventeen, but everyone said we looked like twins.

I was gonna kiss Mildred before we went off to war.

Well, you should have done it. Margret sure had a surprised look on her face when I laid one on her.

"We are going to war, aren't we?"

I looked down at my dusty feet. Yep. Got to get our boots and give Momma a hug.

Where do we go to get in the war, Anthony?

Memphis, I reckon. We should be able to walk down there in a few days. Maybe we can even hitch a ride.

At the house, Momma was washing clothes out behind the house. She did that three times per week. Little sister helped on Saturday mornings. We all bathed in the same round, double-ought tub on Saturday evenings. Being the older brother had its advantages—I got to go ahead of the other two kids.

Momma put her wet hands on her hips. Why are you boys not in school? Your daddy's gonna whop you if you miss another day!

Michael waited for me to answer. Momma, we're going to go to war. The whole country's at war with the German Empire. The Germans are beating up on our friends in Europe, and we're going to help our friends.

You ain't going to war! Go try and tell your daddy that nonsense. Pointing to the north field with her chin as she stooped and grabbed two more handfuls of wet clothes and slapped them on the scrub board.

* * *

Out in the field, Daddy was bent over a row of pretty green shoots.

Daddy, Momma told us to come see you.

He stood, smelled a fistful of the black earth, tossed it aside, and shifted his attention to Michael and me. So you've seen me. Why ain't you in school? Did the school burn down? 'Cause if it didn't, your butts better be getting back to where they belong. There's lots of work later.

I used the explaining line I had used on Momma.

His eyes narrowed as he shook his head. Bull! Y'all ain't going nowhere! The damn Germans can get their asses whopped by the French and the English. They don't need the two of you to get that done. 'Sides that, neither of you don't know nothing about war! Now get back to school. You want to fight? I've got a sizable group of rocks that need to be fought out of that new field this afternoon. He nodded toward the soon-to-be field where we had cut down all the trees and burned and pulled the stumps. I expect that will keep the both of you busy all weekend to boot.

Michael's whole body slacked down about two inches. He glanced around as if someone was going to appear to convince Daddy.

I tried a different approach. "Daddy, we know it'll be harder around here without the two of us. The war won't last that long. Why not wait on the new field until we get back? Mary Lea is getting bigger, and she can water the pigs now if she doesn't use the big bucket. Momma keeps saying each one of us boys eats more than a horse. It might even be helpful not to have us at the table.

Miss Bruce says our friends need our help. We've been studying about all the bad things the Germans have been up to for the last few years. Michael and I are going to go help put a stop to it.

Daddy spit on the dirt, turned his back, and gazed out over the future field—the one with the rocks in it. Sticking his hands in the pockets of his faded overalls, he muttered, There's stupid and there's cow-butt stupid! We don't need to be in this war. Damn politicians! Don't they know real folks got work to do here at home?

He sighed. I guess y'all are getting big enough to make up your own minds, most of the time. But war is like any other fight. You go into it, you go into it to win. It's a damn sight more than just putting a uniform on. You make damn sure you kick the German's butt so bad, he won't ever bother nobody no more. I reckon I can save those rocks for you. You get back here soon. You hear?

Yes, sir, Michael and I each said.

* * *

Back at the house, Momma was standing on the back porch, which made her about eye level with us. With a Bible in each hand and our boots by her feet, Momma wiped her nose with the back of one of her hands. Her eyes were puffy. She had made the decision to send us off with chin held high. I don't know how she knew what Daddy had decided.

I was happy to have Daddy's approval, but sad to hurt Momma. Momma, Daddy said to come home soon.

She ignored my comment and handed each of us a Bible. These are just the New Testaments, as we couldn't afford the whole thing. Most of the important things are in there. I don't know how the salesman knows, but he shows up every time I get in the family way. I put your birth dates in each one of 'um. If y'all will sit for a bit, I'll fry up some chicken for you to take with you.

No, thank you, we'll get something along the way. I wasn't going to have them kill off a chicken before we left.

I shifted my Bible to my left hand and reached out and grabbed Momma with both arms and lifted her. She felt small for the first time. I tried hard not to squash her. I guess more than anything else, I hated leaving Momma.

She kissed me on both cheeks before I returned her to the porch. I waited as Michael repeated what I had done before I picked up my boots and stepped off toward the war with my brother at my side.

As we walked to the corner of the house, Momma yelled after us, Those Bibles are for everyday reading, not just Christmas. You hear?

Chapter 2

The Journey

Ever since he first learned to speak, Michael had always let me talk first and even answer for the both of us when we were around other people. In school, he answered when Miss Bruce called on him, but he seldom raised his hand. When we were alone, it was different; he never stopped talking.

I bet I could have counted the miles based on the number of questions and opinions he came up with—my best guess would be twenty-five per mile. It was somewhere around a hundred miles from our place near Union City to Memphis. You figure it out.

How far do you think it is to Memphis? Before I could answer, he tagged on an opinion. I'm gonna guess it will be a lot shorter for us than for someone with a wagon or a buggy that has to hug a road. Besides, to even get to a road that goes anywhere, we would have to cut across some fifteen miles to the east. We need to go south.

I was ready to give my opinion when he was off again. The two of us have good feet. We can log a good thirty or thirty-five miles a day across flatland. Most of the land around here is flat or slow rolling. There was a full moon yesterday, so we may be able to walk a little into the night. We can stay at folks' barns along the way. I bet we can do some work for some food. Wonder how long you gotta train before they send you to the war? I'm going to go—

Michael, Michael, breathe. Take a breath and let me be the big brother. My brother closed his mouth, probably for the first time since we left the farm. I hear you, and you've got some good ideas. If we could walk thirty miles each day, that would be great. We could be in Memphis in three or four days. However, like you say, we'll have to work some for food. I don't know how much time that will eat up, but I'm guessing at least a couple of hours a day. I think we'll be better off, faster even, if we angle over to that road that goes from Union City to Dyersburg. It goes on down to Memphis too.

Michael dropped his boots from his shoulder to his left hand—the leather laces were tied together on the beat-up old boots. Yeah, but like I was saying, it'll be longer that way, and we still got to eat, and farm folks always have more chores than the townspeople.

Yep, but tell me what you think is the chance of getting a ride while we're cutting cross all these fields and woods? I waited, as we walked, while he hung his boots back over his other shoulder.

He pursed his lips and nodded. Yeah maybe, but the people with cars ain't about to give us a ride. Those are rich folks. We'll just have to get off the road so they can go by.

I pronounced every word clearly, so my brother would understand that the discussion was over. Little brother, here is what we're going to do—the road leaving Union City, going south, connects up with all the little towns between here and Memphis. Those towns are about ten miles apart—give or take. There's plenty to do for food in towns too. We can be in and out of a town in an hour. I wasn't even thinking about cars. There's generally a steady flow of wagons going north and south on the road leading out of Union City. We should be able to get a ride. That'll beat the dickens out of walking thirty miles every day. Also, and you didn't think about this: if we are on the road, the rivers will all have bridges when we get to them.

We turned southeast toward the main road. I figured we would get to the main road around sunset. The sun was in our eyes for a couple hours before it rose above the brims of our hats. Most of our first day's journey, we stepped between new corn rows.

One time, we cut through a herd of cows being watched over by a bull that must have weighed a ton. He moved to make sure we didn't bother his harem. Michael said we stared him down, but I believe it was more like he tolerated us crossing his field.

Sometime after noon, we hit a long walk filled with fully armed bramble bushes. We no sooner got our boots on than the thorny bushes led us to a muddy creek. We ended up wearing our boots across after a discussion about what might be on the bottom.

We came out of the creek facing another couple of miles of brambles and woods before we were able to take off our wet boots. Michael complained about how heavy the boots were. After we took them off, he moaned about his wrinkled feet being tender.

The main road was less than a mile away when we settled against a barn for the night. The man who owned the farm said we could stay in the barn, but on that spring night, it was more comfortable outside. The lady there gave us some chicken and dumplings (not much chicken but lots of flavor) and a hard large bread roll.

We offered to do some work for them, but when the lady