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Wind Whispers (standard:action, 4122 words)
Author: Alpha43Added: May 12 2005Views/Reads: 2499/1524Story 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 

‘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 

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