Chapter 6

Ester Donavan was not happy with the news of her son’s draft notice. Jericho was only a few months past turning eighteen and to Ester it was more of their bad luck that he was already being told to report for induction.

She put her hand on Jerry’s arm, “Maybe you can get out of it because you help support us,” she said worriedly.

Jerry shook his head.

“I’m not doing that, Mama. It wouldn’t be right. Daddy went when he had to, so I will, too,” he replied.

Ester nodded her understanding. She couldn’t refute what he said. This was one of the times that the stubborn sense of responsibility he inherited from his father was more a curse than a blessing.

Jerry slept fitfully that night. The specter of leaving his mother and sisters alone scared him more than the thought of going to war.

Tuesday, he worked for Ben Chaney for three hours stacking hay bales in one of Chaney’s pole barns. The barn was enclosed on three sides, but the front was only protected by a heavy roll up tarp. The open front made loading and retrieving hay easier. Ben would back the hay wagon into the barn and Jerry would stack it stair step style from the back to the front. While they were working Jerry gave Chaney the bad news.

“Mister Chaney,” he said, “Come next week I can’t work for you anymore because I’ve been drafted.”

Chaney rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, “I’ll hate to lose your help, Jerry. You are about the best worker I ever had. You need to talk to Henry Bass about what to expect. He was in the service for four years and he is active in the VFW. He probably knows a thing or two that’ll help you get by.”

Jerry nodded and tossed another bale onto the stack.

“I’ll do that, Mister Chaney. I need to tell Lisa about it soon, anyways,” Jerry said.

That night, Jerry told Ida about being drafted when he visited her. It was a tradition now that he eat dinner and spend the evening with Ida on Tuesdays and Thursdays. His mother turned a blind eye to his visiting the widow Flood but forbade him spending the night.

Ida did not take the news well because she knew Jerry would end up in Vietnam. Although she mostly kept her opinion to herself, she was not in favor of the protracted war in Southeast Asia. She believed McNamara and his ilk were sacrificing a generation of American youth for a reason she would never understand. It was much too true that old men started wars, and young men fought them. She found the weekly casualty count announced by Walter Cronkite on the CBS evening news appalling. She kept her worries from Jerry, however, and tried to make his evening memorable.

Wednesday, Jerry took Ben Chaney’s advice and went down to the Cokerville Savings and Loan to talk to Henry Bass. Jerry had to wait his turn to see Bass behind a sad looking couple and a surprisingly well-dressed Luther Weeks, the shotgun toting former moonshine distributer. Former distributor because Mister Purnell shut him down because of how he treated Purnell’s granddaughter, Wanda Jean.

Jerry nervously took a seat in the lobby and tried to ignore Weeks. Weeks, however, didn’t let that happen as he moved over and sat down next to Jerry.

“You be old man Purnell’s boy, ain’tcha?” he asked, sotto voce.

Jerry nodded affirmatively.

Weeks gave Jerry a yellowed snaggle-toothed smile and leaned closer.

“Well then, Boy, I’m mighty glad I runned inta ya then, cause ya gotta tell that old man that I ain’t proud of what I done, but that wasn’t really me. See it’s really his fault on account of his squeezins’ sometimes gives me ah’ alligator mouth but onliest a hummingbird brain, see what I mean? So anyways, I reckon he should give me another chance,” Weeks whispered earnestly.

Jerry held back the eye roll Luther deserved and said, “Sure Mister Weeks, I’ll do just that next time I see him.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Jerry was telling Henry Bass about his draft notice.

“I’m not trying to get out of serving, Mister Bass. I’m proud to do like my Pa, but I also have my mother and sisters to worry about.”

Bass nodded his understanding and reached for the phone. “I might know someone who can give you the right advice,” he said.

The person he called was Jake Jamison, Bass’ friend, and a service officer for the VFW. Jameson was a retired Army First Sergeant who served in Airborne units during World War Two and Korea, he had three combat parachute jumps and a boat load of awards and decorations.

Bass put Jerry on the phone with Jake. Jake listened to Jerry’s concerns and gave him what Jamison considered sterling advice.

“Bring your tax documents, son. If you claim your sisters as your dependents, that’ll get you 90 bucks a month. Volunteering for jump school gives you an extra 55 dollars. If you add that to your base pay, you’ll be earning 200 dollars a month to start and 300 in six months. I figure a smart man could send nearly all of that money home,” Jamison said.

Jerry almost passed out he was so relieved. “Thank you, Sir. That’s a huge load off my mind,” he said.

In reply Jamison growled, “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ boy-o! I was an NCO and worked for a living. Now, I’m not saying it won’t be tough the first few months but after that if you soldier like a man, you should be okay.”

Jerry again thanked him profusely and hung up.

Next, he thanked Mister Bass and asked him not to tell Lisa about the draft because he needed to do that in person and would that evening. They shook hands and Jerry headed home; his step lighter than when he arrived.

Jerry went to the Bass’ house right before sunset. Lisa answered the door and grabbed him in a hug that would have done a python proud. She had tears in her eyes when she let him go.

“Alice told me Uncle Ben said you were being sent to Vietnam,” she said.

Jerry had forgotten that Lisa and Ben Chaney’s daughter were first cousins. Jerry guessed Mister Chaney had mentioned it to Alice or maybe one of his sisters had. Regardless it wasn’t exactly accurate information. Jerry hugged her again and set her straight.

“I’m being drafted, Lisa, but I don’t know where they’ll send me. There are soldiers all over the world. Heck I could as likely end up in Kentucky or North Carolina.”

Mollified somewhat, Lisa dragged him into the house and announced to her parents they were going out for a soda and to talk. Mister Bass frowned at the ‘to talk’ caveat, but Missus Bass just said, “Be home by ten, Dear.”

Of course, the talking happened on the old logging road behind the Antioch Missionary Baptist Church. And not much was discussed save anatomy and physiology. Lisa Bass was as determined as Ida to send Jerry off to war with a smile on his mug.

Lisa Bass was no longer a naïve young girl, and, although Jerry told her a thousand times, it was Wanda Jean who finally convinced her that she was beautiful. She didn’t hesitate a second to strip naked for him.

“When I get to college, I’ll find a way to send you some sexy pictures,” she vamped.

Jerry was all for that.

“I’ll be the luckiest guy in the Army,” he said.

Thursday, Jerry told the Purnells. Hoke and Lottie were saddened but tried to put a brave face on the situation.

“We’ll miss you my boy, but it’s onliest two years. You’ll be back making deliveries afore you knowed it,” Hoke said, and Lottie nodded her agreement.

So it went for Jerry, as he said goodbye to his friends and spent time with his family. And soon enough it was Monday morning, and he was rolling down the road towards Kenova in the passenger seat of Ida’s Thunderbird. Ida had insisted on taking him so Jerry could avoid an embarrassing tearful farewell with his mother in front of the induction processing station.

Instead of a crying mother, it was a good-looking woman in a snazzy car wearing a short sundress that dropped him off. He drew some envious looks as Ida left him at the curb thoroughly kissed.

Jerry passed his physical with flying colors and did well on the written test. Soon enough, he was in front of the guidance counselor, a heavy-set Sergeant First Class named Knight, volunteering for airborne training and explaining about supporting his sisters.

“Mister Donavan you need to make rank faster so you can send more money home, have I got that right?” SFC Knight asked, his voice filled with friendly concern.

Jerry nodded his agreement.

“Okay, well I think we can make a plan from what you want and need. The volunteering for airborne was a good start but you need to be in an airborne unit to draw jump pay. Let’s see what’s available, “Knight said, as he pulled a sheaf of teletype paper from his inbox.

“Ah, here we go, and we are in luck because the job calls for life skills you probably learned hunting and fishing in the Mountains. I can get you to basic at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, Advance Training in Fort Gordon in Georgia and jump school also in Georgia at Fort Benning. Sound good?” asked Knight as he slid a form in front of Jerry to sign.

Jerry signed on the dotted line, relieved that the Army would help him like this. Private Donavan was on a bus headed toward Fayetteville, North Carolina, before he realized that he didn’t know the exact job he’d signed up for.

The cadre at the reception center at Fort Bragg took great delight in telling him that he’d voluntarily selected the Military Occupational Specialty of 11B, Light Weapons Infantry.