The Inglorious Brotherhood

PINNED DOWN by the Nazi machine gun nest, Captain Lance Carpenter realized too late that they should have dug a deeper trench. He took a quick look over the shallow dirt rampart and yelled at Private Rosie, “Throw your grenade!”

Rosie looked at him, expressionless, waiting for more explicit orders. The Captain looked at the grenade in his hand, pointedly looked at the Private, then threw his grenade using the official overhand John Wayne pitch he’d seen in the movies.

That did the trick. Rosie followed suit with a mighty heave, lobbing her dangerous missile about ten feet into no-man’s land. Sergeant Grinner laughed at her effort and got a blank look from her in return.

“Fix bayonets,” the captain commanded, “We’re going over the top.”

They fastened pretend bayonets on their wooden rifles as he blew the whistle that signaled “Charge!”

They were a fearless squad. They slashed bravely at the tall milkweeds blocking their advance towards enemy lines. White sap oozed thick and pale from the leafy death that marked their forward progress.

“Get down! Get down! There are too many of them,” Lance yelled.

Dropping to their bellies they crawled back to the shelter of their lines. “What’ll we do now,” Sergeant Grinner asked, breathless.

Captain Lance rolled to retrieve a scrap of paper from his worn jeans pocket and wrote on it quickly with a chewed pencil stub.

“Private Rosie,” he ordered, “I need you to undertake a very dangerous mission. We need reinforcements. Take this dispatch to KennyBenny. Be careful! Watch for cars crossing the street and keep low. There’s an enemy sniper in the Anderson’s apple tree.”

If there was one military maneuver that the five-year-old excelled at, it was delivering official dispatches. Rosie didn’t say much. She hardly ever cracked a smile, or cried. Her expressions were in her eyes—big and round under the over-sized WWI doughboy helmet. Lance’s mother said Rosie’s eyes didn’t look very Japanese, though she did think she made a very cute little soldier.

But Lance’s mother didn’t know how battle-tested Rosie was. She was a good marcher—stayed in line, stood straight, and held her rifle on the proper shoulder. Today, with the unit pinned down in the dirt with the hot sun beating down on them, Lance could have used a hundred like her.

“It’s just you and me now, Sarge. We’ve got to hold this position until help arrives.”

Grinner scootched down and sighted his weapon over the edge of the trench. “Gotcha, Captain. If one of those dirty Heinies shows so much as an eyeball I’ll blow him to kingdom come.” He licked his finger and wet his front sight just like Sergeant York would have done.

Even though Pearl Harbor was just last winter they always fought those dirty Nazis instead of the dirty Nips. Since Lance’s squad was recruited from the Hatsumoto family next door it seemed like the best thing to do.

They were still pinned down when Private Rosie returned. She came running, bent low to avoid enemy fire, her steel helmet bobbing on her head.

“They can’t come.” she said.

“That’s no way to report, private. You’re supposed to salute and say it, like ‘Sir, they can’t come.’ ”

Being the faithful and true soldier that she was, Rosie saluted and repeated her message. “Sir, they can’t come.”

“Why not?”

“Sir, because their mother said so, Sir”

KennyBenny, the unavailable reinforcements, were actually a twosome. They lived across the alley at the end of the block on the corner. For practical reasons the neighborhood considered Kenneth and Benjamin, the Anderson twins, one entity. Since they were always together, and a matched set, they became KennyBenny. It was very convenient when they were dressed alike and impossible to tell apart anyway. They were eloquent and imaginative and it was like watching a balloon ascend to hear one of their quixotic narratives. They talked in stereo, with each twin building on the other’s exaggerations.

If they happened to see a robin feeding worms to some hatchlings on the way to school, by recess time the story would become California condors and rattle snakes. And when they finished their story you could say, “. . . and then what happened?“, and off they’d soar to more elaborate heights of fantasy.

Captain Lance assessed the situation. “We can’t hold this position without help. We’ll make an orderly retreat back across the street.”

“I’m fursty,” Rosie announced.

Sergeant Grinner offered her a drink from the canteen hanging on his web belt.

Rosie pinned him with a big-eyed stare. “Yuk! Not that. I’m fursty for cold water.”

“Okay, okay . . . we’ll march. Line up!” Lance ordered. “Hut, two three four, hut two three four.” The brave squad trooped back to Railroad Street and around the corner to the Hatsumoto garden. They were surprised to see Grinner and Rosie’s father in a heated argument.

Lance had never seen Mr. Hatsumoto so violently mad. He repeatedly shoved another Japanese man out of his garden, pushing him in the chest and screaming in his face. Grinner stared wide-eyed and startled at his dad’s uncharacteristic behavior. Lance had never heard his dad say a cross word to Grinner or his sisters. He was always smiling and friendly although he didn’t know much English. To see him now, mad enough to get physical, was like watching a stranger.

The other man retreated and snarled something back at him as he stumbled away—something in Japanese that was obviously a threat.

Lance looked at Grinner who looked kind of pale. “Jeez . . . what’s going on? What did they say?”

Grinner just shrugged and looked embarrassed. Rosie ran into the house.

“Did you understand any of it?” Lance persisted.

“Nuh uh.” He hung his head and ran into his back door, apparently ashamed of the scene. His dad looked over, still scowling, but forced a smile and a nod before following Grinner in.

Mrs. Carpenter was watching from behind their bathroom window. She made a face at Lance, her mouth frozen in a ‘what’s happening?’ expression. Lance responded with a mystified shrug and went around to their back door. She was there, all concerned.

“What in the world was that all about, Lance?”

“I dunno. Grinner’s dad was sure mad about something. They jabbered Jap talk so I don’t know what they were saying.”

“I was just shocked to see Mr. Hatsumoto so upset. I’ve never seen him angry . . . ever.”