|Wind Whispers (standard:action, 4122 words)|
|Author: Alpha43||Added: May 12 2005||Views/Reads: 2096/1270||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|An old WWII veteran makes a long journey to see an Indian friend who also landed on Normandy, and was said to have special abilities.|
Wind Whispers I was doing my very best to maintain a steady and legal speed, yet I seemed to be passing everything on the freeway. The Buick’s cruise control was set at 72 miles per hour, but I just couldn’t resist some assistance with my foot on the accelerator. I was less than 40 miles from my destination, my hands were slick with perspiration, and I know my pulse rate was in triple digits. I had been anticipating this reunion with strong emotions ever since I received this note and map from Alma Creekstone. The note was vague, not really asking me to come, but simply stating where Lawrence was living. I’ve followed the map, but this certainly did not appear to be Indian land or part of the Ottawa-Chippewa Reservation, but unless I missed a turn, I would be face to face with Lawrence ‘Little Baud’ Creekstone in less than an hour. ‘Corporal Little’ was his military nickname and he was Little Baud to close friends and tribesmen on the reservation, We shook hands disembarking on Pell’s Pier at the New York Harbor, promising to stay in touch, but that was late in 1945, and I haven’t seen my friend since then. I have thought about him many times, and not just in passing. He was no more remarkable in my dreams, daydreams, and quiet moments of reflection, than he was on the battlefield, but oh what a battling force he was. Many of the troops claim Little Baud had mystical powers, but as his best friend, I assumed many stories were embellished because of his exceptional fighting ability. We had been together through basic training, several months in North Africa, and we were part of the largest invasion force in the history of warfare, Normandy. The most amazing thing was that we both made it back to the United States, mostly in one piece, surviving some truly inconceivable experiences. This reunion is going to be a milestone of my life, and I can only hope that it has a deep significance for Lawrence as well. I was half way through basic training when I first got to know Lawrence. We both had latrine detail, and our Drill Instructor was a stickler for perfection during barracks inspection. There is no rushing ‘Head’ detail if you wanted to pass muster. Methodically scrubbing and buffing the walls, partitions, bowls, urinals, and floors insured you would get through Sergeant Valentine’s ‘white glove’ review. Those hours together on our hands and knees passed faster than I would have thought as I learned about tribal customs from this quiet and reserved young man. His descriptions of reservation life and tribal regulations seemed so foreign; nothing close to my perceived ‘All American’ way of life. Lawrence had difficulty accepting some of my structured lifestyle restrictions, constantly wanting to know how I got in focus with nature. We did not debate our philosophies, instead we accepted them for what they were, respecting the other mans lifestyle, but cherishing our own. Lawrence was constantly leading the way during basic training. He was not quite a superstar, but he was always at the top of the platoon for completing any physical or field training exercises. He did falter with some of the specialized classroom studies, but he would use all of his free time to translate the lessons into ‘Wind Words’ or ‘Sassa’ as he called them; something he could communicate with. Lawrence, or Little Baud graduated basic training tops in our platoon, and he and I soon found ourselves with orders for North Africa. Blinding sand storms could be upon the troops in a matter of minutes, stranding both armies in their tracks. Our unit had been chasing a German Panzer group deeper into the desert when just such a storm hit. We fought the sand blasting gale force winds as we set up tents for shelter, and then learned that 2 tanks, 1 half track, and 18 infantrymen were missing, not at our temporary shelter. One of the missing troops was Little Baud. On the morning of the 3rd day the winds started to diminish and by noon we were ordered to dismantle the tent city, then clean and inspect the motorized equipment and all of our weapons. We set off in an easterly direction hoping to find and destroy the panzer group that we previously had on the run. After a hour of slow Click here to read the rest of this story (318 more lines)
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