The Warrior Returns

the Warrior Returns

By the time I was six mom had a hard time convincing me to go out and cut a switch when I had misbehaved.  She said, "You just wait, young man, till your father comes back from the army.  He's a tough first sergeant and he'll make you behave."
I had a few memories of my dad, but it had been mom and I since I was three.  She tucked me in, or if some radio show played scary music she let me sleep in her bed.  We had our disagreements but mostly we had a good time together.  She was about five feet tall with dark hair pinned up in back, like Bette Davis in Now Voyager.  She had dark moods when memories of her late sister caused her to sit and stare into space ignoring me, but mostly she laughed.  We into Eugene to watch movies and shop in Penney's, and sometimes stop at Seymour's on Willamette Street for an ice cream soda or banana split.
In our house we had two pictures of dad.  One was from the cover of Life Magazine, titled, A Yank In Australia Reads His Mail.  It showed dad in his uniform with a pack on his back reading a letter.  In another he is in uniform in front of a tent, smiling.  He had a  square face and black curly hair, combed back.  His smile was accented by a gap between his two front teeth.  He had written me saying a  Koala Bear was in the mail to me. When it finally arrived I was disappointed to find that it was stuffed!
As 1944 came to an end GD and I were in the living room while grandma prepared dinner.  We were arguing whether the King of the Cowboys was Gene Autry or Roy Rogers.  I heard mom yelling my name from outside.  She came in waving a letter. "Nicky, your daddy's coming home."
When he finally arrived I was nervous, waiting for a spanking, but he was very friendly.  He picked me up and gave me a kiss and kissed mom and we danced around the kitchen of our little house.
It was election time, and we had a good time sitting front of the radio saying: Phooey on Dewey!  and cheering when Roosevelt won.
A few days later dad and Grandad drove GD and me down to a farm outside Marcola that raised turkeys.  "Boys," grandad said, "go pick yourselves out a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner."  He opened a gate and in we went among a herd of turkeys.  They were as tall as we were, walking around us clucking and scratching the dirt.  We heard his quiet snort and turned to see him smiling.  "Choose one, boys, the farmer is here to chop off his head."  GD pointed in front of him and I nodded and we quickly stepped out of the crowd of big birds.  There was a lot of blood when the turkey lost his head.  Then the farmer dipped it in a tub of boiling water to loosen the feathers and took out the insides.
When we got home we  had to help grandma pluck the feathers off.  "Dont forget those pinfeathers," she admonished.
After Thanksgiving dad had to go back to duty in Texas.  He was to train the Air Corps boys to become infantrymen so they could fight in Japan.  Before he left we drove to Springfield to see his parents.  There were a lot of uncles and aunts and cousins.  His parents were a lot older than granddad and grandma, and Grandma Ellen smiled a lot more.  She had a gap between her front teeth just like daddy.
Then he was gone.
At Christmas we got a letter from dad.  He had found an apartment in Denton, Texas, and we were to hop in the Hudson Terraplane and drive down to stay with him.