Teleportkinesis

By Edgar Beaumont

Totality or finality of life is explained in the pages of this book. Never approaching it in a whimsical way but, rather, with an open mind, one will find a journey of discovery while exploring many dimensions, which have never been explored. Travel through the countries of the world with each character and through past times where all random points seem to connect. See into the individual lives of people from Asia, Europe, and the Americas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640822399

Book preview

Chapter 1

The year was 1946. Wes Hanling, a vet of one year of World War II, landed at La Guado Airport in New York City. As he walked briskly through the embarking tarmac, his eyes searched the crowd between the jubilant crowd of waving hands and expressive smiling faces. His searching eyes spotted the familiar grin of his buddy in arms, Curt Blackwell. His easygoing charm yet disciplined character was evident even in the crowd of people. Waving frantically, he stood out, helped naturally by his massive six-foot-plus frame.

Curt Blackwell was a second lieutenant just out of the officers’ corps at West Point when they had first met. He had been assigned to the third marine division, of which Wes was a veteran sergeant.

Wes had no doubt that it was those unique qualities that as a commanding officer who had led many young men into battle from the horrid beaches of Normandy to Berlin. Enduring some of the fiercest fighting, he’d lost the fewest men of all the commanding officers in his division. Including Wes, many were awarded a variety of medals for their valor. Both Wes and Curt won the Congressional Medal of Honor for bravery beyond the call of duty.

Wes and Curt were both young Americans fighting for a just cause, drawn together to defeat a common evil. Like all Americans involved, they were from very different worlds. Wes was a country farm boy from Kansas. Curt hailed from a prominent New York family of lawyers, which consist of a grandfather, a father, and an uncle. The Blackwell law firm was, at the time, one of the most prominent in the city; it took up the entire eighteenth floor of 552 Madison Avenue.

As Wes neared the end of the tarmac, Curt reached out and pulled his friend’s anxious frame to his and held him in a warm embrace, letting go only when he became aware of many inquisitive eyes on them.

A beaming broad smile etched on his rugged face. He asked, And how is my favorite commanding officer?

Wonderful! It is so good to see you again, Sergeant Major!

Lieutenant—eh, Curt—please can we ditch all this military stuff? I’ve had just about enough of that over there, thank you.

You mean you don’t want to be reminded how you and I turned those iron cross kruts into iron maidens? Ha ha ha ha ha! They both laughed loudly, recalling the time when they’d captured five hundred of the elite German soldiers who proudly displayed their iron cross signifying that they were the best of the best German soldiers and should be treated as such, and were told by Wes that from then on they should consider themselves iron maiden captives rather than iron cross soldiers. That statement had caused the whole platoon to burst out in sustained laughter, and even some of the confused Germans joined in, not realizing the joke was on them.

Well, well, Mr. Blackwell, I must say you look just as snotty as the same young officer they shipped to us just out of officers corp, but you soon showed all of us the quality steel you were made of!

I don’t know about that, Wes, to think of all those young boys that never made it back home. It is very hard not to feel a tremendous loss for the hundred of thousands of our fellow Americans that paid the ultimate sacrifice.

That’s not in vain, Curt, you must remember that. It was a just war, one that had to be fought! Can you imagine what the world would have been like if Hitler had won?

I understand that! Still, I can’t help but feel this way, being the officer who had to send so many to their death. I hope . . . I hope I will never had to do it again!

And here I was thinking you were a natural-born leader, eh?

Man, it was tough!

Ah, was it ever!

Say, that beautiful lady you held so close to your heart over there . . . how is she? Curt asked. Did you two got married?

No, Elsey and I agreed to wait a while before we take, as they say, the proverbial plunge until my farm is properly restored, you know, with me having been away for two years, it has fallen into disrepair. The way I figure, it will take another year or so to be up to par again. I have lost most of the livestock. My father, getting on in age, wasn’t able to manage it well. He is seventy-two, you know!

What about your young brother?

You know how it is with teenagers—he spends all his time chasing girls. Anyway, he could not manage by himself! In another two months, with luck, I should have a very promising yield of corn!

Corn? I never thought one could make a living planting corn!

That’s because you have never been a farm boy like me!

Eh, I suppose not! This way to the parking lot!

Curt led the way as they crossed the street. Wes dallied behind. He was amazed at the throngs of humanity jostling to get into the nearest available taxi cab. He hesitated. Curt had to wait for him to catch up.

So many people! Where in the world could they be going so early in the morning? (It was only 8:00 a.m.)

Oh, this is nothing. Wait till you see Manhattan!

Wes’s eyes roamed from side to side, quitting only when Curt opened the passenger side of his E-type Jaguar and beckoned to him to hop inside. Very nice indeed! He quipped while tossing his luggage into the back seat and took his place in the passenger seat. Nice car! Foreign, isn’t it?

Yeah, British!

Must cost a small fortune?

It does! he nonchalantly replied while turning over the engine. It roared to life. As the convertible top went down and the warm early summer air caressed his face, Wes mused, I could really get used to this. He said it the second time.

Curt looked over at him and smiled as the powerful eight-cylinder car effortlessly cruised along the Grand Central parkway.

Very nice! Wes said, looking at the speed meter that showed they were going sixty miles per hour. How fast can this car go?

One forty!

Wow! What power!

It does cost a pretty penny, but I can well afford it, and I intend to lavish myself with the very best in life. I have earned it!

How can you, buddy?

You don’t know this because I never let on my folks are loaded! Hell, I am their only son! They insist I have the best of the best especially since I came back from the war in one piece! Sorry if I sound like a spoiled braggart—that’s just how it is!

"Are you telling me you are an only child? How did you end up in the war? I thought there was a provision where any only child was exempted?"

I am not. I do have a younger sister, her name is Juliet. You’ll be meeting her soon! I told her and the rest of the family all about you! My buddy Wes Hanling who held my hand for those horrible two years of the war!

Ah, I really don’t know about all that. I mean, whose hand was holding whose!

Knowingly, they glanced at each other with an appreciative demeanor and no further words were needed. Tell me, Wes! How many acres of corn do you have?

My farm is one of the smaller ones. I only have two thousand acres. There are those that are more than twice as large, you know. Kansas is mostly corn country! I used five hundred acres for corn farming, the rest I reserved for my two hundred head of cattle!

Sounds like a lot of land. How much cash can you make from selling your crop?

Hmm, I’d say about twenty thousand dollars!

Any plans for that money?

Sure! I aim to buy one of those Herford bulls to upgrade my livestock. They say they are the best breeders on the market!

How much of that cash will the boy cost?

Ha ha, a boy, you say! No, my friend, not a boy. I intend to purchase a full-grown—eh, mature—bull breeder! I’ll say about half of that amount!

Ten thousand for one cow?

Not just any cow, believe me! From what I heard, they are worth every penny, and I have one hundred and ninety heffers waiting on him! Ha ha ha!

"I can’t imagine servicing that many females in a lifetime!"

Ha ha ha. Of course not. You are only a man! And you do have other duties to perform. Now Mr. Herford, on the other hand—that is all he was bred for! You know, there are some women who think the same of men!

You are so right in that analogy. I could name a few off the top of my head right here in New York City! Curt assured his friend. With his good looks and wealth, he had to constantly fight off the many women of the city that constantly threw themselves at him. Maybe what they need are a couple of men that are as virile as those bulls of yours! Nothing to keep a female occupied than having a lot of children to take care of!

Don’t you want to have children?

Sure! When the time is right! What about you?

Yeah, of course, but for the time being, all I want is to double or triple my stock of beef and to be able to supply the United States with not only corn but with good beef and milk as well! I intend to acquire more land. Elsey and I plan to have a big family—say, about four boys and two girls!

Then you’d better get started!

Oh, we’ve decided to get married just as soon as the harvest is over!

When will that be?

The harvest or the wedding?

Both?

The harvest usually starts in the last two weeks of August and ends in late September! We haven’t set a definite date as yet, but we figure it will be sometime in late November! If it’s possible, I’d like you to be my best man.

It would be my greatest pleasure! Only I’ll need a week’s—or perhaps two—notice, that way, it will give me ample time to get my legal affairs in order!

Will do! Wes assured his friend as the car pulled into the reserved parking lot across the street from the family town house at East 74th Street between Fifth and Madison Avenue, New York City. As Curt pulled the Jag into its place beside a large black Rolls Royce, a large, muscular black man, all decked out in his cap and black uniform, called out to Curt before entering into the Rolls. Hello, Mr. Blackwell!

Hello, Casey! Dad’s still here?

Yes, sir! He’s unusually late today!

Why? Is everything all right?

Best as I can tell, sir! Can you tell him I will be waiting in front of the building?

Sure, Casey! Will do! Wes retrieved his luggage from the back seat of the car and walked beside Curt across the street and into the foyer of 15 East 74th Street. Curt wondered out loud why his father was uncharacteristically late this particular Wednesday morning. I suppose he is anxious to meet you, Wes!

Why is that?

I told them all about you, remember? A leafy grin etched on Wes hardened features. No one knew Curt better than he did. He was very much aware of his friend’s boastful attitude and knew he wouldn’t miss a chance to tell everyone including his family how he had lucked out in getting the very best noncommissioned officer in the doggone armed forces, namely Sergeant Major Wes Hanling of the Third Marine Division. That was how Curt boasted to all who would listen about Wes, so he knew it wouldn’t be any different with his immediate family.

Indeed, he had told his family as soon as he got back from the war. Dad! he had said over dinner one night. I believe in my heart the reason I am alive and in one piece—and also all of my men feel the same way—is because of the tremendous bravery and leadership of Sergeant Major Wes Hanling.

The townhouse was built in 1935 at the explicit specification of Curt’s father. It was four stories high with a walk-in basement and a sub basement. The walk-in basement was high enough to make the house a five-story. All the floors had equally high ceilings. The splendor of the house was all that money could buy. The basement or first floor was used as part office and part recreation. To one end, there was a small bar that was well-stocked with all that a regular bar would have. Stools to accommodate half a dozen guests. At the large place in the center sat a billiard table.

To one corner of the white walls were two dartboards hanging from the wall, which was full of holes along with different colored darts still wedged into the boards. Wes’s eyes followed the many exquisite paintings that lined the walls that led to the second-floor living and dining quarters. Curt led the way up the stairs, closely followed by Wes.

As they entered the large living room, Curt noticed his father still sitting in his favorite easy chair. Hi, Dad! he said. I see you are still here! I thought you would be at the office by now. By the way, Casey is waiting for you out front!

Oh, let him wait! I am somewhat anxious to meet your Mr. Hanling! From what you’ve said about him, I just couldn’t wait until dinner to meet the man!

Wes let escape a very wide grin. it was mainly to conceal his utter embarrassment. He really began to realize how much his wartime buddy had heaped what he thought were unworthy praises on him. The elder Mr. Blackwell stood up and walked toward the two towering figures that stood in his living room.

Well, Dad, here he is in the flesh. Wes, meet my father! Father, meet Sergeant Major Wes Hanling! The two men grasped each other outstretched hands.

How do you do, Mr. Hanling? Welcome to my home!

Very well! Thank you, Mr Blackwell!

I’ve heard such wonderful things about you! My sincere gratitude for taking care of my boy over there!

It was nothing, sir! Anyway, we both took care of each other, that’s for sure!

Curt tells us you are from Kansas corn country, I understand!

Yes, sir. I am from a small town outside of Topeka! I am a farmer of both corn and cattle!

From what I heard, you are one of the finest soldiers the Marines have ever produced! Curt told us all about your extraordinary heroics during the war! The entire nation owes men like you a world of gratitude!

I am sure he exaggerated the facts. I’d say your son was, by far, the real hero, sir! A real leader of men!

He hardly said much about himself. Bless your heart, son, coming from you, such high praise warms my heart and gives me great comfort for very soon, he will have to take his rightful place as leader of our law firm, and I don’t have to tell you what a challenge that will be. He will need all the leadership skills you speak of and more here at home. By God, this nation has such great potential and an equal amount of legal challenges. It’s going to take young men like you both to meet and solve them. I have no doubt your generation is up to the task!

We will do our very best, sir! That you can be sure of!

Again I must say thank you, Mr. Hanling! It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hanling! I must be on my way! And, son, your mother requests that the family have dinner together tonight! She is expecting you and our guest!

We will be here, Dad! By the way, where is she?

She and that sister of yours went shopping as usual. They left quite early this morning! She asked that you inform Josephine how many for dinner tonight and further stated that you should not be late. No later than six p.m. Also, she would like it very much if you would bring Francesca along!

Okay, Dad! Both men waved goodbye to the elder man and watched as he closed the door behind him.

You have a very nice family, Curt! You must be very proud of them.

You think so? Just wait until you meet my impulsive sister!

You mentioned her before, but you have been holding out on me, buddy! Who is Francesca? You never once mentioned her!

I was keeping her for a surprise to spring on you, but since Father spoiled it for me, I’ll tell you now she is the most wonderful lady I’ve ever met, eh—spicy, vibrant, and most important of all, she’s got a great personality!

Sound like the marrying kind! Can’t wait to meet her!

We haven’t reach that threshold as yet! We both had planned to show you around New York, but Juliet insists on being the one to do that. I told her you are practically married, but all the same, she volunteered to be your chaperone for the remainder of your stay here. Do you object?

Of course not! Why should I?

I was somewhat concerned that you would maybe rather have me show you around town. You know, man to man, for old times’ sake!

Well, you both can share! Ha, this arrangement does make me feel very important!

You are to me. You know that, don’t you? Wes looked at his friend and smiled. It was the kind that answered his question without the need for any further words or explanation. The bond they shared from their tough time in the war was unbreakable.

By the way, you didn’t say how long you’d be staying.

I cannot stay very long—not for more than a week. My farm demands all my time. It was extremely hard for me to tear myself away. There is so much work to be done. I just had to see you, old buddy, and to know that you are doing fine. Not that I had any doubt you would be!

I am happy for you as well, Wes! It is quite evident that you are happy at what you do and that is what is important, that is all I ever wanted.

I love the farm life. The smell of the fresh morning air, the dried hay, not to mention fresh milk, eggs, corn and so many other wonderful things. You must visit me some day, then, oh, you will fully understand how rewarding farm life can be!

I promise to do just that the first chance I get! I too love what I do!

Well, you will get that chance in November, remember?

Yes, indeed, your wedding! We are both happy in our chosen profession and that is good! I tell you what, let’s promise each other this—that at least once every year we will plan in advance a specific time to pay each other a visit of at least a week. One year in Kansas and the next in New York.

It’s a deal!

Then let’s shake on it!

Like two schoolboys, they spat in each other’s palms and shook hands, just like they did in the marines whenever the choice had to be made about a dangerous mission on who would lead the way.

Curt, an only son, under normal conditions, would not have been required to served in any combat position in any of the armed services. However, because of the tremendous demand on everyone during the war, even many older men had been accepted when they volunteered. Curt did not assert his rights; actually, he was happy to do his part in the war effort. This he made clear to the marine officer who first interviewed him. I intend to do whatever I can to assure Hitler’s defeat and his axis of evil!

That’s the spirit, son! You will make a fine officer! So he was assigned to the officers training corp, and after six months of rigorous training, he proved the recruiting officer right. He exemplified extraordinary physical and leadership abilities and was posted to the third marine division as a commission officer, a second lieutenant. He shipped out on the same ship as Wes Hanling, who was then a veteran sergeant with one year of combat under his belt. They did not know each other and were introduced only hours before landing on the beach of Normandy. Wes was the staff sergeant of Company C, a group of three hundred well-trained men whom Wes had helped train himself. As their noncommissioned officer, he knew them all by their first names.

Every one of the enlisted men loved and respected him, qualities he too felt for every one of the men he would lead into battle. He knew they would be getting a new commanding officer and had for his men’s sake. They would get one who was disciplined and well-versed in the art of warfare. Apprehension was etched on the men’s faces as Wes bellowed, Ten hut! Colonel Newhouse and the lieutenant approached from the far end of the ship, which was more than a hundred miles out to sea. Their landing craft was already in post position and was ready to be boarded at a moment notice. Colonel Newhouse and the lieutenant walked side by side down the aisles and stopped in the midst of the fall-in men that stood to attention.

Men of Company C, this is Lieutenant Curt Blackwell! Your commanding officer! he wailed. Each man took a quick glance at the rather young-looking, unseasoned officer with marked trepidation.

Look at that young brat! one murmured.

Look like he’s just out of the officers corp! another whispered.

Wes gave them both a scold, and nothing else was murmured. The two officers continued to walk down the aisles, stopping briefly to talk to a few of the men. When they reached the end of the line, the colonel walked away, leaving the lieutenant who was standing to the right of Wes. At ease, men! he said. A word with you, Sergeant!

Wes turned to face him and saluted. Sir! he said.

At ease, Sergeant! We will be boarding the landing craft in about five hours! See to it that the men are ready when the orders are given!

Sir!

And, Sergeant, there’s no need to salute every time I call you or the men to attention. From now on, we are a single team! Understood?

Sure thing, Lieutenant! Wes felt an instant liking for the young officer. He looked at him, somewhat puzzled, not quite knowing how to respond to his request. Okay, Lieutenant. My name is Wes, Wes Hanling, and you know my rank!

Mine is Curt Blackwell, and you also know mine! They both smiled in a friendly manner. By the way, Mr. Hanling, as you might have guessed, this is my first command! I am going to depend on you a great deal, you being a vet and all. As you know, I, along with many of these men, have absolutely no combat experience We will be following your lead!

I understand, sir! I’ll do my best!

The lieutenant thanked him and continued down the line of the men, familiarizing himself with their names and ranks. And your name, Corporal?

Kirk Bradshaw, sir! The corporal snapped to attention.

At ease, Corporal! he said, while continuing down the line. That was the way he greeted all three hundred of the men of the platoon of Company C, closely followed by Wes. The men of Company C soon relaxed. He’d won their respect to the delight of their noncommissioned officer, Wes Hanling.

As he went back to his post, Wes commented, I really think that young officer is going to do just fine, eh, Braddy?

I second that, Sergeant! Still, I think he is just a pup and wet behind the ears. Let’s see how he acquaints himself when he is looking down the barrel of a jerry gun! Kirk Bradshaw was one of the men of Company C that had already seen action in Okinawa, fighting the Japanese.

You will be his wet nurse from now on, Corporal!

No, Sarg, not that please?

That’s an order, Braddy!

Oh well, all right, Sarg! I’ll watch over him like a mother hen! The men that heard Wes’s order looked at Corporal Bradshaw. Some of them flapped their hands and clucked like chickens while laughing.

It’s good to see you are all in such good spirits. Let’s make sure it stays that way when we hit the beaches of Normandy!

Not to worry, Sarg, them jerries won’t know what hit them! Vince Coleman yelled. He was another vet, a lance corporal.

"Yeah! Tell them Company C of the Third Marine Division is a-coming!" the only Negro in the company said.

The rest roared their approval! Look out, jerries, we is a-coming to get you! We is a-coming to get you! Look out, jerries, we is a-coming to get you! All the men joined the chorus.

Wes Hanling was a veteran of one year in the marine corp. He had seen action fighting to liberate France from the German occupation. When that task was accomplished, he was shipped back to the States to join the hundreds of thousands of Americans for the invasion of Germany. He had a younger brother and an elder sister. The latter was six years older and was married with a husband and four children. Her husband, a dentist, after the third child was born, moved to the capital city of Topeka where he opened a small practice. His brother, Joshua or Josh, and sister, Hildy, with her husband had two boys and two girls, and they were always looked upon as the perfect couple because they had two of each sex among their children. Wes was only twenty-four years old when he joined the marines, and from the very beginning, he had exemplified himself as a natural leader. He was truly a towering figure at 6’2" and weighed 235 pounds; not many men could stand toe to toe with him. He was strong and as tough as nails. A true marine, in every sense of the word. He strongly believed every one should be given a chance to prove themselves. In his mind, the young lieutenant was no different. The way he had started was very pleasing to him, and he also sensed that the men of his command liked the easy way in which the lieutenant introduced himself to the men under his command, and that was the beginning of the great comradeship between Lt. Curt Blackwell and Wes Hanling, also all the men of Company C. A special friendship gradually developed between Curt and Wes as they fought their way from the beaches of Normandy to Berlin, which continued until the end of the war, and then in 1946, one year later, here they were in New York City.

At 6:00 p.m., Josephine had everything ready for dinner. A three-course meal was prepared. She informed the family, and Curt formally introduced Wes to them all. After that, the senior Mr. Blackwell took his place at the head of the table, while his wife took her place at the other end. After the appetizing meal, they retired to the large living room.

Cocktail, anyone? I’m serving! Curt said.

Mr. Blackwell had a brandy; so did his wife. Franchesca had a white wine; so did Juliet. Both Wes and Curt had scotch on the rocks. Ben asked Wes about his corn crop. He’d earlier told the family that he was a farmer mostly of corn and livestock.

How do you manage to grow five hundred acres of corn out in the open. One would think you would encounter tremendous difficulties, with birds, insects, and squirrels eating most of it all the time?

Not at all, sir! We don’t have squirrels, and not many birds either. Insects, we do have plenty of those, but they don’t bother our corn crop anymore!

Oh, why is that?

Have you heard of that colored scientist?

You mean that Carver fellow?

Yes, sir! He specializes in botany. You know, agricultural chemistry. I believe he is now teaching this science at Tuskegee University in Alabama!

What of him? Mrs. Blackwell asked. Juliet and Francesca leaned forward. Both their ears pricked, their concentration intent. They were intrigued and wanted to hear more about this African American scientist.

Well, he somehow found a way to engineer a hybrid kind of corn seed that is somehow impervious to all insects’ attacks. It is so good it even thrives without much moisture! His is the only kind of seeds I use and so too do many of the other farmers back home! I can assure you, sir, since I began using this seed, I’ve had some of the very best crop ever!

Truly remarkable! Juliet commented.

Where did he get his training? Francesca asked, looking directly at Wes.

I am afraid that I don’t know! he replied. What I do know is that his invention has revolutionized the farm industry. I have never seen anything like it before! I grew up on a farm, and never before have I ever seen one stalk of corn with three or four very good ears. Just the other day, a gentleman came to see us! I mean, all the farmers! He said he represented a large cereal manufacturing company that is willing to buy all the corn we can produce. I, along with all the farmers, are very optimistic about our future. They are scrambling to purchase new farm equipment—tractors and all the rest, including whatever land that is available! This sounds very promising for our nation’s agricultural industries!

All thanks to that colored man! Juliet exclaimed. They all nodded in agreement.

What a pity, such talent that many of them have that has not been fully appreciated! Mrs. Blackwell commented. Can you imagine what this country would accomplish if all its citizens were given an equal chance to develop their God-given talents? Curt asked his father.

It is up to your generation to make sure that happens, son! I mean, you young people will have to take the next necessary steps to make sure there is equality for all! As I told you before, there’s great potential that lies ahead for this nation. It’s up to you and Mr. Hanling and all the rest, he said, looking at the two young ladies, now that the war is finally over, to lead this nation in the right direction!

I find it hard to be optimistic, Dad! The war is over, but the world is in tatters. Take Europe, for instance—it will undoubtedly take years to rebuild. I just don’t know how that will be accomplished.

That is really a monumental task!! And Japan is also in ruin! Wes chimed in.

Not to worry! Mankind has always destroyed their civilization, only to rebuild it again!

That is a foolhardy way to go about things! Mrs. Blackwell proclaimed in a matter-of-fact way.

Men are always doing silly things! Francesca murmured.

Maybe they should let women rule the world! Juliet added.

All the men smiled her way as Curt looked at Francesca and said, They already do!

She knew just what he meant. She cuddled up close to him and whispered in his ear, I love you too, darling! They had spent the better part of the evening discussing the affairs of the world. It was coming close to midnight. Curt let go a long, tired yawn, a sly signal that it was time for bed. Mr. Blackwell took his wife’s hand and led her up the stairs. After bidding all goodnight, they went to their second-floor bedroom quarters. Juliet followed close behind.

After you, my friend! Wes beckoned to Curt who had wound his arms around Francesca’s slender waist and sort of carried her up the stairs. They stopped on the third floor. There, Francesca went into her usual guest quarters whenever she stayed over at the Blackwell townhouse. Curt’s quarters were adjacent to hers on the same floor, while the other guests’ quarters were on the upper floor, a part of which was reserved for the two live-in maids.

Curt stayed for a few minutes with Wes before bidding him good night. Sleep well, my friend. See you in the morning, and no need to hurry down in the morning. You and I will have breakfast whenever we choose! Remember, you are on vacation and are my guest. Sleep late if you like!

I doubt if I could—this city is exciting! So much to see in one week!

Oh, I don’t know about that. You may want to stay for two!

Not on your life—too much to do back home! Will you just relax and forget about the farm for a while?

Okay, okay, I have! That beautiful lady of yours is waiting! See you in the morning, Lieutenant!

Yes, she is of Italian heritage!

Hear they are the hottest!

Are they? Don’t know about that!

Ah, Curt, you are still a wet-nosed kid!

Curt held his nose and left the room.

The Blackwells had three maids, two live-in and one that came in to do most of the cleaning five days each morning. Josephine Johnson was head maid, and then there was Cindy Colums, and Clara O’Neil, the cleaning lady.

The next day, after a healthy breakfast of French toast and bacon and eggs easy over, juice, and two cups of coffee each. Curt went upstairs and said bye to Francesca, who was still in bed. Back down, he said. Let’s go, big brother, it’s time for your tour of this fine city!

Isn’t Francesca coming with us?

Not at all—this day belongs to just the two of us!

That’s nice! How about your mother and Juliet?

They already left! You know ladies—wherever there’s a sale, they will be at the store before it is open!

Not where I’m from! Ours have far too many things to do on the farm!

You fellows are the lucky ones. Here in the city, it is quite a different story! Most of these ladies take great pleasure in spending money as fast as we can make it!

Well, that is understandable—they all seem to have several maids to do all the work around the house! It seems to me it is only fair to spend money if you have lots of it like I am sure your family does!

You are always right, big brother. What’s the use of having it if your wife can’t spend it? Anyway it does make them very happy, and they, in turn, make us happy, so here we have one big happy family! Okay, let’s go!

Are we taking that fancy car of yours?

No! Today we trek it on foot! They started walking down Madison Avenue at Seventy-Fourth street.

Wow! Wes exclaimed, looking up at all the skyscrapers. I wonder how long it took to build all these enormous structures? They seem to stretch as far as the eyes can see! It’s a wonder to behold! There’s one over there in the process of going up! Wes stood and gazed up at the men working on a crane some ten stories high. To think that nothing could scare me, but up there, I am not so sure anymore!

You, Sarg? Scared? That will be the day! Up there, no jerry bullet will be whizzing by your ears! That’s for sure!

Mmm, I see what you mean! They both recalled the time in Normandy when they had to take and hold a bridge for two days and night under constant enemy fire until reinforcement arrived. Curt was happy as his friend, whom he knew was having the time of his life. He had come to view him as his older brother.

However, there was one thing he did not know, and it was this. Most of the places they went, Wes had this eerie feeling that somehow it all seemed that he had been there before. Curt noticed his friend’s mouth was open and closed ever so often and thought it was pure amazement at the sights of the city; that reaction was quite common amongst most visitors for the first time. They went to most of the museums and all-important monuments in the city. This continued for five days.

On that day, they decided to take the Jag and drive down to the south side of Manhattan. It was a few minutes past twelve noon; cruising down Second Avenue, the convertible top of the Jaguar was down. The car was one of those that had the driver on the right side. As they cross Sixtieth Street, an unusual fear came over Wes. Suddenly he was washed with a flood of memories. At Fifty-Ninth Street and Second Avenue Bridge, a Ford Edson came thundering down the roadway from off the bridge, and in an instant, that’s when it happened. Curt saw the large black car when it was only a few feet from his. It was too late, there was nothing he could do to avoid the collision. In an instant, it was on top of them. Everything went black.

Three days later, he woke up or, rather, he came out of a coma in a New York hospital’s ICU room.

Hmm hmm, where am I? he woozily asked the fuzzy female form in white standing by the bed.

You are in the ICU of a hospital, sir! I’ll be right back. I must get Dr. Bennett! The nurse burst into the doctor’s office and blurted excitedly, Dr. Bennett, he is awake! Mr. Blackwell is awake—come quickly!

Dr. Bennett and two other doctors and another nurse were soon hovering over a very confused Curt Blackwell. Dr. Bennett asked, How are you feeling, Curt?

He rolled his confused eyes while the doctor felt his pulse. The doctor stuck a small pin into his right arm. Did you feel that?

Hmm hmm, Curt murmured. His left hand caressed the bandages that covered the entire circumference of his head. Where am I? he asked, as his eyes began to clear and his memories began to return.

You are in a hospital, sir! You were involved in a very nasty accident.

At the mention of the word accident, his memories came flooding back. My friend? What about my friend, Mr. Wes Hanling? Is he here as well?"

No, sir! He isn’t here! Rest now, Curt. We’ll discuss your friend when you are feeling much better! Perhaps in the morning! You just rest now while I inform your parents you are awake! With that, the doctors leaved the room, and the nurse gave him a shot, and soon, he drifted off to sleep.

Ben had specifically instructed Dr. Bennett not to give any information about Wes should he come out of his coma while the family was not around, and also to inform them the minute he did.

The telephone rang at the Blackwell home. Francesca jumped out of her chair. Mrs Blackwell wiped away the tears from her eyes. Both Ben and Juliet raced for the phone. Ben got to it first. Hello, hello, yes, this is Ben Blackwell, Doctor! He is out? That’s wonderful! When can we see him?

In a few hours! He is resting now! I gave him a mild sedative, he should be up in about three hours! the doctor explained.

Thank you so very much, Doctor! We will be there as soon as we can!

Make that three hours!

Yes, Doctor, we’ll be there in three hours! Thanks again! He is out of the coma! Ben turned to the others and yelled.

Thank God for answering our prayers! Mrs. Blackwell proclaimed.

Indeed! her husband said as he draped both arms around her trembling body. All four hugged in a circle. The three women cried uncontrollable tears of joy.

He is going to be all right! My darling is going to be just fine! Francesca assured everyone.

Poor Wes! Mrs Blackwell whispered. Curt is most certainly going to take it very hard! We all must stand by him! she further added.

Of course we will! Ben assured her. The other two ladies nodded in agreement.

Well, let’s plan how we are going to break this terrible news to him! They all looked at Ben. Yes, of course I’ll be the one to tell him. Do you suppose we should bring him something to eat? he asked, looking at his wife. I’ll ask Josephine to fix him some of her special chicken soup! With that, she hurried to the kitchen. Anna Blackwell worked side by side with Josephine, fixing the soup for her only son, while Mr. Blackwell called Casey and told him to have the car ready and out front in two hours.

How is young Mr. Blackwell doing? he asked in a concerned tone.

He’s going to be just fine, Casey! Thanks for asking!

That is truly the best news yet, sir! Yes, sir, young Mr. Blackwell is one fine gentleman!

Yes, he is! Thank you for that proclamation, Casey. We all think very highly of our son! In three hours, all four were at Curt’s bedside and anxiously waited until he opened his eyes.

Hi, Mom! Dad!

Both parents gently kissed both his cheeks. Tears of joy flowed freely from his mother’s puffy but relieved eyes. Both Francesca and Juliet buried their faces into his stomach. "Thank God, oh, thank God for sparing your life, my son!" she whispered in his ears.

He looked at his father and asked rather solemnly. What about Wes, is he all right? Is he here in this hospital?

His father moved closer on the bed. "I am afraid I have some very unfortunate, eh, bad news, my son! Your friend didn’t make it!’

What are you saying, Dad? Wes is dead? That just can’t be! He is as strong as a bull! Tough as nails, can’t be! He can’t be dead!

Doctor Bennett entered the room just in time to hear Curt’s last comment. He didn’t utter a word. He had many times seen that expression of total distress and helplessness on many of his patients’ faces who just lost a loved one or a dear friend. Curt looked at him, seeking assurance his friend was still alive. He did not speak but slowly nodded his head in answer to Curt’s desperate unspoken question. Curt let two slivers of tears escape from both corners of his eyes. The doctor and a nurse who came in to change his bandages understood this was a time when their patient needed to be alone with his loving family.

We are awfully sorry, Curt. We did all we could for your friend! His injuries were much too great! We’ll leave you now with your family! Nurse Hall will finish changing your bandages later!

With that, the doctor and the nurse left the room after telling him they would be back later. Curt nodded his head in agreement as his thoughts went back to the tragic afternoon of the accident. Oh, Wes, I am so sorry! I wish I was the one that died instead of you. You were such a good friend, a gentle giant of a man. How could this happen to you, my comrade in arms? The Germans could not touch you, but this blasted bastard of a driver, he did. Quite possibly drunk. I hope he gets what’s coming to him!! You were having such a wonderful time. His girlfriend and sister as well as he himself had done all they could to make his stay in New York a most memorable one. Dad, where is his body now?

Don’t worry, son, I have made all the arrangements! It was flown back to his home in Kansas yesterday, and I also send a telegram to his father the day after the accident explaining what happened along with our deepest regret and condolences!

Son, I brought you some soup! Please have some! You must regain your strength. She tried to spoonfeed him some of the broth.

Mother, I can’t eat anything now!

Look at me, Curt! Look at me! He caught her stern gaze.

For your friend’s and our sake, you must overcome this grief! We all must! I have no doubt that is what he’d want you to do! Please have even a little so you can regain your strength!

Mom is right, Curt, and you know it! Juliet whispered in his ears. Francesca wiped away her burning tears and nodded to him.

He opened his mouth and took a few spoonfuls of the warm broth. He seems so mesmerized by all the wonderful sights of the city! he continued. It was like he was a little boy again, seeing something wonderful for the first time! He was so alive. I just can’t believe he is gone! Curt had seen in Wes the little boy that was lost growing up in the era of two wars that robbed most young children that were born at that time of their youth. It pained him greatly.

The family stayed at his bedside until Dr. Bennett informed them it was way past visiting hours and his patient did need his rest. After some hesitating, they reluctantly agreed with Dr. Bennett, and all gave him hugs and kisses then left the hospital.

How is young Mr. Blackwell doing? Casey asked his mother while opening the rear door of the car for her.

Thanks for asking! He is doing as well as could be expected under these circumstances!

I understand, ma’am! the concerned driver assured her. Casey had been the family chauffeur for more than ten years and had been with the family when Curt was transferred overseas during the war years. He’d come to love and respect them all very well and oftentimes shared their pain.

Curt thought that Wes had been having a wonderful time, but all along, that hadn’t been the only emotion Wes was displaying; his mind was overwhelmed with what he thought was a severe case of déjà vu, but was it really?

This phenomenon had in some way been with him ever since he could remember. Many times, just before things happened, he would know exactly what would transpire sometimes minutes or seconds before it did. This was exactly what was happening in a flood of emotions just before the car got to Fifty-Ninth street and Second Avenue—that’s where the Ford literally mounted the Jaguar and crushed his skull. He had seen it all in an instant; it was as if he was watching a moving picture of his life to the very end. Twenty feet above the crash sight, he hovered in the air. There he witnessed the final play of his life. Confused, he looked down at his lifeless, crumpled body being pulled from the wreck car and the paramedic pumping his blood-covered chests while imploring it to breathe. From what he saw of his body, he knew that no matter how much coaxing they did, he would not or could not return to what he then realized was nothing but a mere carcass. He was dead. He was now in a strange unfamiliar existence.

What next? he thought. Where was the angel that was supposed to take him to heaven? This he was taught in Sunday school as a boy back in Kansas. He was a regular attendee of the local church, but after the death of his mother, who was twelve years younger than his father, he stopped going. This was mainly because his faith in God had been severely shaken. How could a loving God rob him of one so dear and precious to him? He’d silently ask, over and over again, and got no reasonable answers. Kansas came into his mind. Kansas, my home! Here I am, dead in New York. My God. Elsey, my dad, and my brother, Josh—how are they going to take it, the news of my demise? My sister and her husband and the four little ones. Will Josh be able to take charge of the farm?

There came over him an overwhelming desire to be with his family in Kansas, and in a nanosecond, he was there, floating below the ceiling of his house in their living room, looking down at his father, John, sitting thoughtfully in his easy chair. Rex, the faithful family dog, was the only creature that sense his spiritual presence. The beast barked and howled mournfully. The time was 12:10 p.m., and by six o’clock that evening, an elderly man drove his old pick-up Ford up the long driveway to the farmhouse. He stopped the truck and slowly eased out and solemnly walked up the wooden steps and knocked on the front door of the large house. John went and opened the door. Yes, Mr. Jackson, I am John Hanling. I have a telegram for you here. It is from New York! Must be from your son! He went there, didn’t he?

So he did! What of it?

On these things in my many years of delivering, never seen one that carried good news. I hate to be the bearer of bad news! The dog kept howling.

Give it here, you old fool! John grabbed the letter from his outstretched hand and went back inside the house, sat down in his chair, and open it and read.

Dear Mr. John Hanling,

It is with utmost regret that I must inform you, sir, that your son Wes Hanling was killed in an automobile accident in NYC. Please accept our sincere regret and condolences for your tremendous loss! He was and will remain a dear friend to my son and our entire family! Again, our prayers are with you and yours at this most tragic moment in our lives! We will make all the necessary arrangement to have his body flown back to you as soon as possible. Regrettably, we will not be able to attend his funeral, as our only son was also very badly injured in the accident. He is in a coma in intensive care. God only knows how long he will be in this state or if he will ever come out of it! At the present time, he will need all our attention. We will try to visit you at an appropriate time! Once again, we share your deepest sorrows! Your loss is ours as well!

Sincerely,

Benjamin Blackwell and our entire family

Chapter 2

The telegram slowly slipped from John Hanling’s trembling hands to the wooden floor. His aged body slowly followed into convulsion. No, no, not you my son, he cried over and over again until unconsciousness took his teary speech and thoughts away.

Josh came home, tired from a hard day’s work on the farm. The dog was still barking and howling madly.

What is the matter with you, Rex? Why are you yapping away like that? he asked while patting its head before going inside.

Dad, I am home! he called out.

Getting no response, he went into the living room and saw his father facedown on the floor.

Oh no, Dad! Dad, what happened? Are you sick or . . .

And that’s when he noticed the telegram on the floor. He picked up the paper in one hand and helped his father up with the other and carried him to his bedroom. After placing him on the bed, he read the telegram. When he got to the part that read I regret to inform you that your son Wes Hanling was killed in an automobile accident, he let loose a tremendous howl that could be heard for miles around. His howl was echoed by the dog.

Dropping the telegram on the floor, he raced outside. He called out to one of their workers who was still on the premises and blurted out to him what he had just learned. Are you sure, Josh? he asked.

Yes, yes, Tom, the telegram is inside!

Tom ran inside and saw the telegram still lying where he had dropped it. He took it with him and read it along the way.

Oh, God, no, he moaned. Josh had both his hands on his head. Total bewilderment engulfed him.

The elder man was the first to gather his composure. I’ll ride into town and inform Hildy! You go tell Elsey! She, no doubt, will be devastated!

Tom quickly saddled a horse and rode off while Josh ran the distance to Elsey’s home. She too collapsed after hearing the awful news. It can’t be. It just can’t be you, my darling Wes! she moaned.

Needless to say, the entire family was completely devastated. However, Hildy and her husband took charge of the situation. In three days, after the body was delivered, the funeral took place in the family plot. The grave was dug to the left of his mother’s as the right side was reserved for her husband. John Hanling took the death of his son so badly that at the funeral, he cried uncontrollably. No one could console him. Wes watched the procession from a few feet above him. He could actually feel his pain. He reached down to comfort him, but his hand went right through the upper part of his father’s shoulders, and that’s when he really realized he was now only a spirit without the abilities to hold or embrace anyone, or for that matter, he could not handle anything that