Chapter 34

Thursday was a day at school. Time crawled as we were coming up on Christmas vacation and all the students were tired of school. I think the teachers were tired of school also or at least tired of the students.

I sat at what was becoming a regular table of Tom Morton, Tracey, Tom Wilson, Cheryl and I. Tom Wilson kept us in stitches but I noticed that his humor was never directed to hurt anyone.

It was mostly self-deprecating. I wondered if it was a compensation method. He would depreciate himself before others could. I knew I wasn’t the most secure person around but I was glad I wasn’t that far gone. I even mentioned it to him indirectly.

“Tom you have a lot going for you that people never see but you always downplay that and emphasize your weaknesses.”

“I do?”

“You do. Quit being a smart-aleck in class one day and play it straight. It would help the grades you need for college and I know there are several girls that think you are good looking but are put off by your attitude.”

“What girls?”

Fortunately, this was the new Rick. I had thought it through before I opened my mouth.

“Who is that girl on the end riser in music class?”

“You mean Tammy Woodstock?”

“Yeah, her,” I replied.

Actually, there were about five cute girls on end risers in music class. I had just let him select the one he wanted.

“Tom, you will have to show her your serious side before you will get anywhere.”

“I’m now a man on a mission. She is going to be impressed with the new improved serious Tom.”

“Good luck.”

I then dropped the subject and turned to Cheryl. I asked in Spanish how she was doing. She replied that she was fine and that I was a good guy for what I was doing for Tom. She then updated me on her Dad’s attempts to find out what had gone on out at the base.

He had attempted to interview everyone that was involved that night. They had all been transferred out. He was beginning to realize that something big had gone down. He reviewed the radar logs and saw that jets all over North America had been scrambled to head off incoming Tu-95 Soviet bombers.

Many of the radar systems of the DEW line had gone down and Campbell’s Hill had carried the load that night.

She shared that with me in Spanish so the other kids didn’t know what we were talking about. I was impressed with how much better my Spanish was getting. I could follow her. I had to think of a lot of words that I wanted to use, but I was really beginning to understand conversational Spanish.

We didn’t talk about dating or seeing each other. Lunch would be it unless her Dad relented. I was hoping he would relent soon as Cheryl was looking more attractive to me all the time. The great thing was she just accepted me. She didn’t talk about the things I had done.

At home, we used our Spanish lesson to string buckeyes for Christmas decorations. Mrs. Hernandez had never seen a buckeye, so it was fun. Of course, Eddie and Denny had to make conkers. This was where you drill a small hole through the buckeye and put a thread through it. Tie the thread off and swing your buckeye trying to break your opponent’s.

I think the name conkers came from what always happens. Denny was over-enthusiastic and hit Eddie in the head. He got conked, this, of course, led to cries and wailing. Mum came running downstairs. When she found out what went on, she gave a lesson on how to conk, without hitting your opponent in the head.

She also told Eddie to belt up, he played the game, and he took the hits. Quit whinging. I really wondered at times where my Mum obtained her attitude.

We also made paper chains from construction paper. Christmas decorations at our house were mostly a do it yourself project.

I read more on my naval hero. I thought fire ships must have been about as nasty an item used in the Napoleonic wars. I did wonder if the Spanish always treated their prisoners that well. I suspected not.

Friday was the last day before the holidays. When I went to homeroom there was a note to go to the office. I wondered what I was in trouble for now. It wasn’t that at all. Dr. Costin left me a note. He had found out that they needed Dad’s signature on the Country Club application. My surprise wouldn’t happen. I thought about it and thought what the heck. It’s the thought that matters right?

After school, I went straight home. Both my parents were there so I explained to them how I had attempted to surprise them with a country club membership but that it needed Dads’ signature.

He signed and said, “It is the thought that counts.”

“I am going to drop this off at Dr. Costin’s office right now. They will be able to vote on it tomorrow.”

At that I started to head out, Mum added.

“Bundle up or you will catch your death.”

I rode my bike down the hill. The roads were clear but man was it cold. A quick turnaround at the Doctors office and I headed home. It wasn’t into the wind but it was uphill. I didn’t catch my death, but I think I was on its heels by the time I returned home.

That night I reread that graphic description of cutting someone’s leg off. It was totally fascinating but gruesome. What hit me is to learn how to do that they must have cut off a lot of legs.

Saturday was a nice day, so Dad and I left for Dayton trying to arrive at lunchtime. We had been invited for lunch and were told that the sutlers would be set up and ready for business. Colonel Tolson had sent us a map with directions so we should be able to find the place.

We found it with no problem. They had set up in a field next to a secondary road. It was easy to tell when we arrived because cannon had just fired. Between the noise and the cloud of smoke, there was no question that this was a civil war unit. It also helped that there were two Union soldiers on guard duty at the entrance. They had our names on a list so we were admitted. The sergeant, who I recognized from his stripes, told us that this wasn’t a public event but people kept trying to join them.

After parking the car in the field near the tents, it was easy to find Colonel Tolson. He was at a large headquarters tent with flags in front. He welcomed Dad and me and gave us a tour of the campsite. They had troops doing close order drill. Dad chuckled at that.

“Some things have never changed.”

We walked over to the cannon firing line. They had two cannons in what they called a battery. They had wagons with them that they called caissons. These were for the cannonballs, gun powder, and other supplies. I now knew what caissons rolling along meant in the song we sang in music class.

I didn’t see any cannonballs and asked about that. The Colonel laughed.

“We wouldn’t dare fire any around here. They go for more than a mile and then would go through a house front to back. There is a place we can fire over in eastern Ohio, one of the old strip mines. It is the only safe place in the state.”

“We don’t use cannonballs either, they are too expensive. We have found that a cement-filled beer can work perfectly.”

I wondered what Generals Grant and Lee would have thought of that.

We had lunch with the group. I had read enough about the civil war to expect a meal of hardtack, pork, half raw potatoes, and chicory coffee. Instead, we had cheeseburgers, hotdogs, and French fries. I asked, and was told that they reenact the battles, not the meals!

They would do one of the meals the old way on occasion, but unlike the civil war their wives accompanied them to the field and wouldn’t put up with poor food or bad cooking.