What I Learned At Bastogne

By Dale Beasley

What I Learned At Bastogne, set before and during World War II, is the prequel to What I Learned At The 'Zoo, his coming-of-age novel set in Yazoo City, Mississippi. That first book rollicks the reader into the turbulent 1970s and results from Beasley's thought for one short time that he hailed from Texas. His father, the late Brigadier General Glenn D. Beasley, Sr., United States Army, knew and determined that his son would also know, instead, that the youngster's roots ran deep from the soil of the Mississippi Delta. The 'Zoo book reveals the younger Beasley's fictionalized account of his fourteenth summer in Yazoo City—a summer that features an outlandish family, a plot to smuggle Cold War secrets from Mississippi to spies in East Germany, and the forging of a lasting bond between the boy and his Great Uncle Dallas Crabtree. Eccentric, bizarre, complicated, and ever-entertaining family members and their friends welcome readers into the Crabtree world, now in the time before ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350939644

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What I Learned At Bastogne © 2023. Dale Beasley: All rights reserved.

Print ISBN: 979-8-35093-963-7

eBook ISBN: 979-8-35093-964-4

This book is a work of fiction.

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 except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Edition

Glenmar Publishing

Madison, Mississippi

Contents

Dedication

Author’s Note

Prologue

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

Interlude

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Dedication

To my mother

Joan-Nell Henry Beasley

War is delightful to those who have had no experience of it.

—Desiderius Erasmus

Author’s Note

Having been reared in a family where military service is still an honor, I have heard many stories from my grandfather and uncles about their honorable service in World War II. While I wrote this novel, their memory was near and dear to me.

Also, while writing this novel, I often thought of my grandfather’s cousin, Private Elbert M. Beasley, Jr., who was killed in action on Utah Beach on June 6, 1944. Although I never knew him, his memory was often with me.

I am also honored to be a descendant of Lieutenant General Troy Houston Middleton. My most sincere wish is that this novel brings honor to his and to the other members of my family’s service.

Glenn Dale Beasley, Jr.

Lieutenant Colonel (Retired)

United States Army

Prologue

Turning back the pages of my childhood, I recall one winter when I met my Uncle Dallas at my grandfather’s house for our annual squirrel hunt. According to Uncle Dallas, each year has five seasons, the fifth being squirrel season.

Since my fourteenth summer in Yazoo City, Mississippi, Uncle Dallas, Aunt Sandy, and I have hunted each squirrel season at my grandfather’s place in Rockport, Mississippi. This winter morning, the sky showed a color of blue that only God could paint, and in the east, the fire of the rising sun set the sky ablaze. My grandfather’s home sat atop a hill outlined with large oak trees, which naturally cooled their home during the summer. Nearly two hundred acres of pasture land surrounded the home, and fog hung off the ground at head level and halfway up the trees; it was as if the heavens decided to settle in my grandfather’s hay-field instead of the sky.

When I noticed this, I asked Uncle Dallas, Are you seeing the same thing I am?

God’s best sunrises are during squirrel season, he said.

Grandfather and his cousin, Greer Ashley, hunted with us this year. Cousin Greer brought one of Uncle Jack Beasley’s world-class squirrel dogs, known all over Mississippi and even in Alabama and Tennessee.

Up the creek and in a thicket, we could hear the treeing bark of Ole Bob. As we approached the treeing, Uncle Dallas spotted an old fox squirrel, which immediately scampered to the other side of the big water oak.

Uncle Dallas instructed me to stay put, that he would go to the other side of the tree and force the squirrel to come back to my side of the tree, thus giving me a clear shot.

While sitting there, I heard the creek burble as it gently curved through the forest and over beds of rocks. The sun had not reached through the jungle-like canopy; so, the woods smelled cold and wet. As Uncle Dallas predicted, the old fox squirrel came back around the tree, thus allowing me a clear shot, which I took.

The old fox squirrel—hit—fell down the oak tree, skimming several limbs along the way. Only one problem: he fell on the other side of the creek.

Uncle Dallas walked back to me and said, Well, we have to get him; we can’t leave him there. We will cross on an old log a little further up the creek and make our way back down and pick him up.

We approached the log, and Uncle Dallas held my.22 rifle as I crossed it. Just as I got about three-quarters of the way across the log, I stepped on some moss, causing me to slip off, landing in water about up to my waist. I managed to get up the other side of the bank, retrieved the squirrel, and returned across the creek, ignoring the log this time, for I was already wet.

Wet from the waist down, I dried my clothes at the fire Uncle Dallas made. He pulled out a small thermos from his dead squirrel pouch behind his vest and poured me a cup of Irish coffee, which I sipped till my pants and long johns got somewhat dry.

As my clothes dried over the fire, I looked at Uncle Dallas and said, It sure is cold out here.

Uncle Dallas paused momentarily, staring deep into the fire, looking for something that no one could see except for him, and responded, Yes, son, it is, but it’s not as cold as it was in Bastogne.

Chapter 1

The Call-up—January 1940

University of Texas at Austin

Dallas Crabtree never got used to the weather in Texas, but this morning was different. The coolness of the air in his part of Texas was a pleasant mixture of the arid west and slight humidity of the east. As he was lying in bed, he reflected on the past four years at the University of Texas. Now in the third semester of his senior year, majoring in German and minoring in business, Dallas had completed all his core subjects; this semester, he would be taking only electives and attending every Chi Omega and Tri-Delta formal, which he felt he deserved. He had even bought a new tux from his friend David Greenhill’s father’s haberdashery in Yazoo City, Mississippi.

The ray of sunlight from the eastern window walked across the floor to Dallas’s bed, where he knew it would be in his face in just a few moments. Dallas was barely twenty-one years old. His baritone southern drawl and wispy sandy hair covered his lack of an emotional anchor that many young men his age had already acquired.

The late night before and lack of 0800 classes allowed the luxury of sleeping just a bit longer. As soon as he fell back into the light sleep realm, a knock on his door from a pledge awakened and told him he had a call from his father on the fraternity house phone at the other end of the hallway.

Dallas answered the phone, Daddy, this is Dallas. Is everyone okay?

John Crabtree, Dallas’s father, assured him that everyone is fine but explained that a letter to Dallas from the draft board requires him to report this coming Friday.

Dallas let out a series of rants, No, that has to be wrong. I haven’t graduated yet from college; can’t you take care of this?

John replied, I have never heard of a draft notice like this. They are asking for you specifically. You are attending an Officer Basic Course and some intelligence school at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey.

As Dallas heard that, he angrily kicked the side of the wall with his foot and then whimpered at the pain.

John asked what was wrong. Dallas admitted that he thought he had broken his toe.

Boy, why are you barefooted? Do you know what time it is? asked John

Yes, sir, I know what time it is. I just missed breakfast.

Mississippi A&M, Starkville, Mississippi

The same morning, Curtis Martin had been up for several hours because his scholarship required him to milk cows at the University Dairy Farm. One of the freshmen from his dorm came to the barn and told him he had a phone call on the public phone in the dorm lobby from his father back in Benton, Mississippi.

He was the first generation of his family to attend college. Curtis’s family had been German Jews who emigrated to Mississippi in the 1840s. His grandfather had been an officer for the Confederacy who had defended Vicksburg during the Civil War. Curtis, a fourth-semester cadet in ROTC, would receive a commission in the army at the end of the semester, along with his degree in German and mathematics.

Curtis made it to the payphone and answered, Dad, this is Curtis; what’s wrong? Is everyone all right?

Curtis’s father, Abraham Martin, began to explain that he had received a draft notice, that the draft board asked for him by name, and that he was to report to the Yazoo City Draft Board this Friday.

Trying to comprehend what his father was saying to him, Curtis asked, What does the army want me to do?

Abraham continued to explain that he was to report to Officer Basic Course and Intelligence School at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey. Son, also, we are having a special service for you at Anshe Chesed Synagogue; all your aunts and uncles will be there.

The following day, when Curtis turned in his military equipment at the Middleton ROTC Building on the Mississippi A&M campus, little did he know that it would be six years before he returned to finish his degree.

Richmond, Virginia

Mark Singleton was in his second senior year at the University of Richmond. When Mark did not graduate on time, his father gave him a choice, either join the National Guard or go to work. Mark joined the Richmond Light Infantry Blues, one of the oldest militia units in the Virginia National Guard. The unit had just returned from Fort A.P. Hill, completing its two weeks of annual training. The Blues were as much a social club as they were a military unit. Guardsmen spent the so-called training playing baseball, playing cards, and getting chewed out by a World War I First Sergeant. On the downside, Mark had lost most of his pay playing cards, but on the upside, he had been promoted to corporal.

This morning, he sat at his parents’ kitchen table in the Church Hill section of Richmond. Mark had attended an elite boarding school in London, England, where his father had been in the Diplomatic Corps at the American Embassy.

While drinking coffee and waiting on his father’s daily complaints, Mark read the Richmond Times Dispatch. Aside from the usual news about crime in Richmond, he read full stories about the war in Europe. Many classmates with whom he had attended boarding school had been called up and served in various regiments in the king’s service.

He also wondered about a particular young lady he had relations with before being unceremoniously asked to leave school. He had no idea she was a cousin’s daughter of the Queen Mother, and his father never let him forget it. You wasted your privilege.

Continuing to flip through the newspaper, he noticed an all-caps headline in the announcement section: ALL MEMBERS OF THE RICHMOND LIGHT INFANTRY BLUES ARE ORDERED TO ASSEMBLE AT THE ARMORY TOMORROW MORNING AT 0800 HOURS. He wondered what that was all about.

The following day when Mark arrived at the armory, the first sergeant handed him a set of orders and instructed him to see the company commander after the morning formation.

Once the formation was called, the company commander announced that the unit was being called up for active duty for the Louisiana Maneuvers, which would be the largest exercise ever conducted, involving over 400,000 soldiers from all over the United States.

A Private Lumley raised his hand and asked, Where will this exercise be held? resulting in a laugh throughout the formation.

That question earned him one week on KP duty from the first sergeant.

Following the formation, Mark reported to the captain, who gave him his orders to report to an Officer Basic Course and an intelligence school at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey.

Puzzled by the term Officer Basic Course, Mark said, Sir, I still have one more semester of ROTC.

The captain replied, Apparently, that is enough for the army, but out of curiosity, what are you majoring in at the University of Richmond?

German.

While staring out the train window into the endless cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta, Dallas could not help but reflect on his childhood, family, and especially his sisters. Mi Mi, his green-eyed twin who was capable of all types of exaggerated drama, was born fifteen minutes after Dallas. Her skin was pale and had a strange reflective quality, which quickly changed to a mosaic of crimson the moment she started playing Mozart. Her father often described her ability to play the piano as a gift from God, which infuriated his oldest sister, Corrine. When their mother died giving birth to the twins, Corrine had to come home from the Mississippi State College for Women—the W—to raise her younger siblings.

To get back at her father, Corrine married a man twenty-five years older than herself—two years older than her father. Unfortunately (some say otherwise), her husband died one year into the marriage, leaving her the quite profitable Yazoo City Motel. This motel was the center of risqué liaisons and many of the goings-on in Yazoo City, which Corrine recorded in her brown book ledger for future reference.

Dallas’s next sister, following Corrine, was Barbara, who liked to cook and drive convertibles. Barbara had learned to cook from their New Orleans grandmother; so, she was in charge of the kitchens in Yazoo City and at Glenmar, their family farm. Barbara was the definition of love, and following the death of their mother, she and Corrine held the family together.

Dallas’s next sister, whose real name she shared with their New Orleans grandmother, Adrien Mignon, was called Sister because pronouncing Grandmother’s name was difficult for the other children. She was tall for a woman, had green eyes, and her complexion was a beautiful tone of olive. Sister worked with their father on the farm, for she considered it her semi-fortress of solitude. She did not feel trapped in the body fate had given her while on the farm. There, she felt protected from things she had not yet grown to understand.

Dallas had not been home for nearly a year. About 9 p.m., the Mississippi and Missouri pulled into Yazoo City. As the train began to stop, he saw Shorty waiting for him. Shorty was a twenty-three-year-old man of color whose real name was Shorty Kemp, but when he pronounced it, the name sounded like Shorty Pimp.

Shorty’s mother had been a woman of color who worked on a nearby plantation in Greenwood, Mississippi. While washing clothes, his mother became distracted and left Shorty on the front porch on a scorching summer day. The sun soon got to Shorty, and as a result, he had a heat stroke, damaging his speech development. Shorty could say only four words: she, he, I, and do. Over time, he could piece together simple words to make himself more understood.

When Shorty’s mother passed away, he was brought in front of Dallas’s grandfather, the judge. The State believed that since Shorty could say only four audible words, he was mentally challenged and needed to be housed in the mental institution at Whitfield. The judge would not have that; so, he had Shorty evaluated by one of his doctor friends in Greenville, Mississippi.

The doctor determined that Shorty was quite intelligent; so, the judge asked to be removed from the case, to have it assigned to another judge. Then he applied for guardianship and brought Shorty home to live. Jeannette, the black Creole housekeeper from South Louisiana, raised Shorty as her son.

As Dallas stepped off the train, he was greeted by Shorty. Dallas shook his hand and said, Good to see you, Shorty; looks like Jenette has been feeding you well.

Shorty responded, @@@@@@@@@@@, she do.

As the Illinois Central was pulling into Yazoo City, Curtis could see his father, Abraham Martin, and his sister Mary standing on the platform. Mary ran up to Curtis as he stepped off the train, whispering, Dad is so proud of you. While shaking his father’s hand, he saw Dallas Crabtree over his father’s shoulder. His father noticed he was looking past him and asked, What are you looking at?

"That looks like Dallas Crabtree; that is him—you remember he played third, and I played short on the Yazoo City Indians baseball team."

Yeah, that is him. I’d know that schmuck anywhere, replied Abraham.

Mary entering the conversation, said, Oh, yeah, that’s him all right; he is so handsome, he just makes me melt.

Fey, stay away from him. You never know what his spiel is; his entire family is nuts, demanded Abraham.

Ignoring her father, Mary went straight toward Dallas; Abraham looked at Curtis and said, That Dallas Crabtree is such a goy.

No, Father, I’m pretty sure he is an Episcopalian, Curtis laughingly replied.

As Mary walked over to Dallas, she said, Why, Dallas Crabtree, do you remember me? You asked me to dance with you twice at the Delta Debutante Ball two years ago.

"Shalom, mon cher—my, my, haven’t you just blossomed? Seeing your lovely face is like seeing the sunrise twice on the same day."

I bet you say that to all the girls, don’t you, Dallas Crabtree?

Before he could answer, Curtis interrupted them and reminded Mary that their father needed her.

Let’s get together soon, said Curtis as he walked away to rejoin his father and sister.

Dallas watched Curtis and his sister Mary walk away, telling Shorty, Now, that’s some fine examples of Hebrew femininity, don’t you agree?

Shorty replied, @@@@@@@@@@@@, I do.

Still watching Mary walking away, Dallas said, Shorty, I sure have missed out on our conversations.

As Dallas walked into the house, Mi Mi, his twin sister, ran and threw her arms around him in a theatrical embrace. Oh, Dallas, you are finally home!

Mi Mi was in her last semester at The W where she studied classical music and was a Dames La Haut Society member. Mi Mi prided herself in thinking she was sophisticated, which everyone else mistook for drama. She had married Jonathan McNealy from Greenville, Mississippi, who had left school to join the Canadian Air Force without waiting till the United States got involved in the war in Europe. Corrine would say, which made their father angry, that he joined to get away from Mi Mi because he regretted marrying her. Jonathan was in the Eagle Squadron, Americans flying for the British Crown. Mi Mi was incredibly proud of his position and took every opportunity to flaunt his status as if it were hers.

Dallas, it is terrible that you are being drafted like a common soldier. You should be an officer, like my Johnathan.

Well, baby sister, as a matter of fact, I am going to be an intelligence officer, replied Dallas. He realized he needed a drink if he had to talk to Mi Mi very long.

Not knowing how to respond, Mi Mi said, Shorty, fix us a drink.

Dallas told Shorty he would fix the drinks and asked if he wanted one.

@@@@@@@@, I do, replied Shorty.

Mi Mi whined, Dallas, please stay up with me and drink; I will play you a new classical piece I just learned, called, ‘Cosi Fan Tutte,’ composed by Mozart.

As Mi Mi started to play ‘Cosi Fan Tutte K 588 Overture,’ Dallas asked, What is this opera about?

I love the Enlightenment, thinking of the composers in the eighteenth century. This piece concerns the relationships between two soldiers and the women they leave behind. It’s like Johnathan and I. The morality of our love holds us together.

Morality, my ass; morality is the hypocrisy of a woman’s fidelity, Dallas retorted as

Mi Mi played louder.

No, it is not. It sounds like ‘someone’ is still angry at their old sorority girlfriend. Now … let me see. Now, which sorority was it? I just can’t seem to remember.

At that moment, Corrine stomped out of her bedroom, awakened by all the noise they were making, and said, Y’all shut the hell up and go to bed, and by the way, ‘Casi Fan Tutte’ was about infidelity, deception, and seduction.

Grabbing her music off the stand, Mi Mi stormed to her bedroom, screaming, I hate you and slammed the door.

Corrine looked at Dallas. Welcome home, baby brother.

Chapter 2

Crabtree City Home, Yazoo City

Dallas awoke to the smell and the moving about in the kitchen that he was familiar with as a child. He decided to lie in bed for a few more minutes to soak it in, for he knew he did not know what fate had in store for him in the not-so-near future.

From what he could tell, his sister Barbara was still in charge of the kitchen. He heard her send her son Bill to the corner store for two newspapers and daughter Joan-Nell to the chicken coup for eggs. He heard her ordering his other sister, Sister, to set the table and his twin sister Mi Mi to prepare the orange juice. His father, John, was sitting down at the table, dressed for business with the Bank of Yazoo; he had to get a loan for cotton seeds for planting in the spring.

As Dallas walked out of his room, he announced to everyone, All-ite, I’m here, but was disappointed that there was not a grand reception for him. As Barbara brought him a cup of chicory/coffee mix that their New Orleans grandmother had them all addicted to, she kissed him on the top of his head and welcomed him home.

Dallas sat at the table, and his father asked him how he was getting to the draft board today. Barbara offered Dallas her car: It’s a pretty day, a good day to put the top down.

Dad, can’t you call someone and take care of this for me? I only have one more semester, and I will graduate, and besides, there isn’t even a war yet, said Dallas.

Oh, here we go again. You and Mi Mi always have our father get you out of trouble. Just be responsible and do what you are supposed to do, Corrine said with disdain.

Mi Mi replied to Corrine, Bitch … does not look good on you.

Okay, shut the hell up. Can’t we have one damn meal as a family without all your drama? Dallas, go to the draft board like you have been ordered, and Corrine, get off your sister’s ass.

Bill had returned from the corner store with the newspapers. Dallas and his father read the headlines, and Barbara continued to set the table.

This is interesting, John said, another supply ship leaving New Orleans for the UK was sunk today; they believe a German U-boat sank it.

Dallas looked over his paper and asked, How many supply ships leaving New Orleans heading for the UK have been sunk?

That’s a good question, son, but what is the real question that needs to be asked?

Dallas thought for a second. How are the German U-boats in the Gulf finding out which supply ships are bound for the UK?

EXACTLY!

Others in the room completely missed the conversation between Dallas and his father. Sister began reading an article about how Princess Elizabeth joined the British Military Service.

Sister said, It says right here that Princess Elizabeth has joined the military, Dallas. I will join the WAC (Women’s Army Corps) as soon as they get it started later this year.

John interrupted, Haven’t I told you that no daughter of mine is going to join the army?

Sister, protesting, said, If the king lets his daughter do it, why shouldn’t you?

Bitterly, John said, I don’t care what the King of England does or doesn’t do. If it weren’t for us, he would be speaking German now.

Sardonically, Dallas answered, Well, Father, I think he speaks German already; they have German ancestors.

I don’t give a damn. No daughter of mine will join the army, John said as he threw his napkin on his plate and stormed out of the room. Enjoyed my damn breakfast. I’m going to the bank.

Not hearing anything that had just occurred, Mi Mi said, "Look, The Grapes of Wrath is coming to Yazoo City next month. I just read the book; it was so good."

Joan-Nell said, Mi Mi, would you please read it to me?

Of course, I will, darling. At least someone in this home can give this child some culture.

Oh, my God, she is creating one of herself, says Corrine patronizingly.

Barbara gave Corrine a stern look. God don’t like ugly, Corrine, and that was ugly.

Corrine penitently replied, You are right, Barbara.

Yazoo City, Draft Board

Dallas walked into the draft board office and saw Curtis reading The Yazoo Herald in a waiting room chair. Seems like things are heating up in Europe.

Curtis replied, It has been; they are confiscating all property belonging to the Jews. You know, I still have family in Germany.

I didn’t know that, Dallas said. Did you read where a German U-boat sank another supply ship off the coast of New Orleans, heading to the UK?

Makes you wonder how they know which supply ship is heading for the UK. Someone is warning them, has to be.

Dallas agreed. That’s what my father and I discussed this morning.

Curtis paused momentarily. "You know, Nazis have U-boats off the Mississippi

Coast; that pisses me off."

Mr. Johnson, who was over the local draft board, came out of his office, welcomed both boys, and invited them into his office. "Boys, have a seat. Glad both of you showed up together. This is the most damn thing I have ever seen; I have never seen a draft notice naming an individual. The damn thing is, I got two of them; tell me, what in the hell makes you two so