Drums of War The Pale Horse Book 1

Chapter 1 Spring is in the Air





Oak Hill is a quiet town nestled in the hills of Virginia. April has arrived, the showers have begun and the smells of spring make you feel like everything is perfect. Spring of 1962 upon us and that is not the case. The Cold War has begun to heat up. Distrusts between US and Soviet leaders are at an all time high. We had to put this behind us for now, and make the best of a situation we have no power over.

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On most days you can almost hear the flowers blooming when walking our quiet tree lined streets. This week is an exception. It is time for the annual Spring Festival. To our town this means one thing, “Derby Day!” The Soap Box Federation Derby begins in Oak Hill each year during Festival Week. We treat this event as the equivalents of “The Race at Daytona” understand that the race constitutes the first leg in a ten race series which will take place in each County in our state. The winners of each county championship will square off in the finals to take place at the Capitol Grounds. Though our County races just four drivers we have dominated the finals for many years. Each winning racer then successfully passes on secrets to the next group of contenders in line.

Banners and signs were everywhere advertising the event and its contestants. “The Thrill at the Hill” is what we call the Race here, though the official name is “Race #1 at Oak Hill”, definitely not inspiring to anyone. The age group for this race was 13-15 years. My current group of friends is currently too young to compete. At 12 years of age I am the appointed leader for my rag tag band of outcasts. My name is Ben, I think of myself as staggeringly handsome and the smartest person on the planet although there may be some who might disagree. But that will be a story for another day. Two others in my group are Liz and Maya. These girls are 11 year old twin sisters, so identical each could switch roles at will and it would not be noticed. Both girls were a head taller than me as girls can be at that age. Each has long wavy red hair falling to their waist and bright blue eyes highlighted by a face full of freckles. Two younger boys, Jon and Ricky rounded our group. John was a fragile tow-headed boy of 9 years who spent an excessive amount time cowering from fear from most anything. Ricky was a very small dark skinned boy 9 years of age whose family had moved here from India four years ago. He fell in with us when no one else would take him in; our group welcomed Ricky warmly. We have been together for 4 years vowing never to separate, friends for life.

Anyway, the Derby was a major deal in my town. The event brings bands and hot dog vendors from across the county. Wonderful food smells that permeated the Fairgrounds air fills you with feeling that all was going to be ok with the world. Souvenirs are sold from little booths throughout the fair and even our Church got into it. Their sign reads, “Jesus bobble heads sold here only $10”. Strangely enough these sold like hotcakes. For years, as you drive in town you were being watched by a Jesus bobble in the rear window of the car in front of you. I found this very disturbing as I grew older and was doing my own driving. Some thought this was responsible for lack of traffic incidents for years here in Oak Hill. Bobble heads of the drivers and their designated banners were also sold throughout the Fair. Barkers were throughout waving flags and enticing people to their small stands to buy their products.

The contestants become instant celebrities and often playing their parts to the amusement of the crowds. Wearing costumes depicting their respective characters, they wowed the crowd with their antics. The first driver to be introduced that afternoon was the favorite, “Evil Lyn”. She has won the final crown 2 years in a row making her the first to accomplish that feat. Lyn was a very confident 15 year old with long black ponytailed hair and dark brown eyes. Here personality traits led us to view her as more of a future female wrestler than a fashion model. Lyn’s take no prisoner’s attitude drives her to perfection. Her car, “The Grinder” is currently, “State of the Art” perfection, in its field. Its sleek body and short profile was built to win. Next in line was “Rocking Johnnie” a contentious 14 year old that has been gradually moving up in the ranks. Johnny was a short fellow with blond wavy hair and a “Can do” attitude to boot. This boy was confident that someday he would become a famous rock star; Johnnie’s car “Braveheart” was tops in its field at the winter trials and has started the spring with a renewed confidence. Johnnie is truly the #1 contender for “Evil Lyn’s” title. The final contenders are two 13 year old twins, newcomers to the race, “Crazy Larry” driving “Wild Stallion” and “Dirty Harry” driving “Magnum”. These boys are of short stature with wavy black hair, they lacked size but made it up in attitude. Each thinks there is a title ahead but I must tell you those odds are very small.

With Race week just beginning and six days before the race, we devised a plan to stage our own event. Fifth Street would challenge Third Street to a Derby Race. Having soon heard of our challenge, no time was wasted contacting us to accept it. Their leader was a bulky 12 year old boy, Tyler. Wavy blond hair and watery blue eyes was a magnet for the girls in town. Swaggering as he walked conveyed that he was definitely the one in charge. His companion was a very mature 12 year old, Betty. With brown curly hair and green eyes, she had a demeanor way beyond her years. I have always admired her from a distance and would sometimes get a wink to acknowledge she knew I was watching. The other members of the group included Ken, a 10 year old mama’s boy with dark black hair swept back and oiled like it was the “Roaring Twenties”. Kens family was somehow lost in another time period. Kelly was a 12 year old with short dark wavy hair and marble- like green eyes. Kelly was very small for her age and looked much younger than Betty looked. After a long drawn out meeting, we made a decision. The race would take place the day of the race at College Hill. This was the only time we could guarantee access to the hill since all would be at the race. The competitors will drive a standard 2 axle car using human power only. Cars will be built from scratch from the chassis up with no kit cars allowed. This would alleviate the possibility of Ken’s dad buying the best on the market. We all chipped in for a small trophy to be awarded to the winner of the race.

College hill has a reputation that goes back many generations. During this time it had many names that had come and gone. Devil’s fall was among the most popular name of the time for good reason. No one had ever reached the bottom of Devils Fall safely. It was renamed, College Hill during the growth of our town in the 50’s. No one would wanted an address using the name, Devils Fall. We were told a trip down this hill by anyone but a crazy person was out of question. That did not frighten us, after all, we were 12. A story that took place at the end of WWI comes to mind, of a lanky boy 12 years of age known as, “Thieving Steven.” Steven was an aspiring scientist with a penchant for causing himself problems. He had to touch and analyze everything around him, even if it was not his. Not a bad person just extremely curious and this often caused him trouble indeed. One day while investigating a two wheeled scooter he had just obtained, he got an idea. Could he ride this scooter down Devils Fall and arrive at the bottom intact? To Steven this was a mystery that he must investigate immediately. He spent all of the next day taking measurements and wind speed data at the hill. Tomorrow was the day he would go. Many locals having heard of Stevens attempt gathered at the hill early in the morning. Most gathered near the middle of where the demise was likely to unfold. Having the event was to take place a local Ambulance driver named Stan parked his vehicle at the bottom of the hill. Steven was noticeably confident in the decision to make the attempt having completed all the calculations necessary for a safe trip. Slowly the scooter was walked to the top of the hill, taking wind and temperature measurements to finalize the parameters for his trip. Steven approached the top and took the last readings. Finally, all was ready. He pushed off slowly with the scooter, calculations said speed would increase quickly. Gliding birdlike the first half of the trip, Stevens face was grinning with satisfaction as the scooter flew by crowd. His expression turned when reaching the two thirds point on the hill. The scooter was drifting sideways and it started to falter. All at once the wheels of the scooter starting wobbling like a top about to fall. The look on his face turned to one of terror as he realized his imminent doom. All at once the wheels came off and the scooter was launched high in the air. It fell three quarters of the way down the hill near where the largest audience stood. Most turned away as the spectacle unfolded. Immediately Steven was taken to the local hospital where he remained in a coma state for three days. Upon awakening from his coma he immediately began taking notes to figure out what went wrong. Assumingly, he had intended to make a second attempt in the future. Well, the second attempt never happened his mother saw to that when she convinced the town council that these suicide runs down the hill must stop. Still he talks of his adventure and offers to tell you his secret to conquering the hill. Needless to say, no one was very interested. Except for me!

The first thing we did was break up into groups to gather needed parts for the assembly of our race car. The most likely place to gather our material would be the local landfill but we needed speed to get the components needed ahead of our competition. Liz and Maya, assigned to obtain wheels and axels available from old baby buggies at the landfill would leave immediately. The axels must be the wider type; this would allow a larger driver. Jon and Ricky’s mission was to gather discarded lumber and nails from the various construction sites in town. Me, I had another equally important task to attend to today. I would track down “Thieving Steven” and hope I can get the information I desire. Steven still lived on the south side of town near the railroad tracks. Living alone, he had become a recluse since the loss of his only son to the Military action in Vietnam. I got his address from the Post Office in town; the Postmaster was my Aunt Suzie. Though a short walk, I still left early the next day on my secret mission. Having found his house I walked slowly up to his front door. It was a modest home on a very busy street. Large white shutters covered most windows giving the appearance of no one living there. Ringing the bell there appeared a man about 60 years bound to a wheelchair. His hair was grey and very sparse and he talked with a slight lisp. Introducing myself I explained my quest, he immediately allowed me enter to speak. You see, I hoped that Steven had the secret formula to safely navigate to the bottom of Devils Fall. He seemed excited about our situation and offered to give us all the help we need. Steven volunteered to assist us making the necessary modifications to our ride required to accomplish our task. Certain secrets he imparted only to me that he believed would be the final key to victory. The secret would be shared with the others only when the moment was right.

Construction began the next morning at first light. Everyone showed up early and Steven brought donuts and coke for us to nibble on. We spent a short time getting know each other; he explained that he had received his injuries while serving during WWII in France. Sharing his experiences it left us felling awe and respect for him and others that served during those awful times. We immediately encountered an issue. The only wheel and axel combo that the girls could procure were of the short axel type. Consequently it would mean our car would be less in width than required to fit a full sized rider. It was a big issue since I was the only on with any driving experience in the group. Steven did not see this as a problem that he could not solve. Since the driver size would be limited Steven did the required calculations and determined the only one of us small enough to fit was Ricky. I feared this would be a problem because of his demeanor. When we approached Ricky with our proposal he leaped for joy and agreed immediately. I looked at him in amazement as we began to talk about his task ahead. As we spoke I saw him gazing at Liz with a proud smile on his face hoping she would notice him. This was all I had to see to know what was causing his change of attitude; we would build in safeguards being sure Ricky could drive it safely. Just point it down the hill and push, hard. Steering would hold in place until you needed to make any adjustments during the race. Work continued throughout the day until almost dark. Since we were building the car at Liz and Mayas grandma’s house to maintain secrecy we did not have to worry about hunger. Grandma feed us sandwiches and cokes all day so we could keep our strength up. We stopped at dark that day and all vowed to return the next day to continue our task. I walked Steve home and proceeded to thank him for his help so far. He immediately explained this could finally prove the stories he has been telling for years. Steven knew how to beat “Devils Fall”.

We met early the next day, it was Thursday and we needed to finish the car today to have time to test thoroughly before race day. We had heard rumors that Third Streets car was finished and being tested in secret on the other side of town. Spies tell us it looked quite formidable. That did not worry us at all. We were deep into the deeds of completing our car. All we had left was installation of the steering mechanism. This was Steve and I task since we wanted to be sure all the special modifications installed properly to insure the car was safe to race and ready to roll. Steve and I spent many hours discussing and adjusting the mechanisms to maximize efficiency. We soon completed our task and announced that Friday would be test day. Steve asked the others to leave as he painted the agreed name on our car; he then covered it with paper.

Saturday morning we had a daunting task ahead we would do our testing on Bakers Hill behind Grammas house. Bakers Hill was a mere shadow compared to Devils Run but will serve our purpose. We drilled Ricky continuously on the operation and did many test runs proving the proper operation of our vehicle. Once satisfied Ricky could safely operate and maneuver the car we took a break to reflect on the situation. Ricky asked about the three levers mounted on the dash labeled #1, #2, and #3. I understood the function of #1 and #2 and how to use them. Steve had installed #3 when no one was around and of that I had no clue. He explained that all would be revealed on race day to maintain secrecy. Final system checks complete, we stared at each other beaming about our accomplishment. Win or lose we would become closer because of this. We were ready to roll!

We all knew no one would not get much sleep Saturday night so we made a plan to meet at Grandmas at first light. We would meet up with Steve and Ricky later at the hill. Arriving an hour before light and the others were there waiting. I went over the race strategy with Ricky several to try and keep him calm. Steve will brief Ricky at the hill to keep the modifications a secret until the last minute before the race. The time to begin the long journey to Devils Falls had arrived. We pushed our car down Central Avenue hearing the cheers of crowds forming along the sides of the road. Fans had mistaken us for Derby Contestants and it took people a little while to see their mistake, as we continued to walk in the opposite direction of the Fairgrounds. Still, until that happened we happily waved as they cheered us on our journey. Some even went as far as to point out our apparent error. So much excitement in the air, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck bristling. Whole families were up early starting the two mile trek to the Derby site. Children were all decked out in the colors of their favorite racer, waving flags and chanting. After the excitement was over we continued our arduous journey to our race site. We arrived about noon to find a small group of spectators were awaiting our arrival. These people were either confused or maybe just not Derby fans. Soon finding out word had got out and some people believed that this race would be more exciting and dangerous than the Derby.

Steve was there inspecting the hill for loose debris and greeted us at the top of the hill. Soon Third Street arrived and much to our dismay their car was monstrous. Painted Night Black and emblazoned on the side with one word, “DESTROYER”. We told ourselves we could not be intimidated and continued with our preparations. As race time grew near we were told the driver was Betty. She had been a very competitive driver in the Junior Derby ranks so it seemed fitting she was chosen. Betty began her preparations and she briefly glanced at Steve and myself and cracked a brief smile, turning away quickly to continue her duties. With pre-race preparations complete, it was “Showtime!” The small group of spectators lined the hill near the halfway point anticipating that the most excitement would unfold in that area. Steve pulled Ricky aside and began the final briefing on the operation of the levers. Once pushed off Ricky was to hold the steering wheel tight and maintain a straight course. Positioning himself halfway down the hill Steve would yell “#1”. Ricky was to release the wheel and pull lever #1 immediately. Still listening, Ricky was to wait for Steven to shout the command “#2”. Ricky would then pull the #2 lever. A third lever #3 would be used in an absolute emergency, if the command “#3” was heard pull the lever and hang on tight. These instructions are to be followed to the letter for a chance at success. Stan ordered the racers to push vehicles to the launching and the drivers instructed to strap in tightly. Steve went over to Ricky’s car and handed over a pair of Dog Tags. All could see they belonged to his lost son. Two words were spoken, “For luck.” Immediately a tear in his eye caused us to tear also. As a last gesture Steve pulled the paper off the side of the racer exposing the name, “PEACE TRAIN” emblazoned in large red letters. We all stood proudly as we admired our handiwork. Stan the ambulance driver, now a man of seventy volunteered to officiate the race so he announced the rules. Only one pusher allowed in the designated area marked in white. When the front wheels of the car pass the green start line the pushers must release their grip and stand aside. The race would start on the gunshot marking the Derby Race official start.

We could hear the roaring crowd at The Derby, this brought a feeling of excitement I never felt before. Stan announced “Drivers to your mark” and I led Ricky to the push zone. Since I was the strongest it was my honor to be the designated pusher. Betties car was their when I arrived with Tyler to be her pusher. Tension on all the faces showed as we got on our mark and waited for the gunshot. It came quicker than expected but we were ready. Tyler and I used all our strength to give our cars the edge we needed. The cars crossed the start line at the same time and a loud grunt could be heard as we both released. The entire trip would take one minute but we expected no drama in the first 30 seconds. The cars approached the halfway point and Betty had gained a full car lead. Her vehicle was much faster than expected. That was ok; we still had a few tricks up our sleeve. In the midst of the excitement both cars started drifting right. Steven yelled “#1” and Ricky immediately pulled the lever and released his grip on the wheel. Ricky’s car quickly corrected course. Betty’s car continued drifting to the right, unable to adjust for the pull. Approaching the three quarter mark both cars changed course and began a drift left. Ricky heard “#2” and complied with his command. His car began to correct itself. Betty, terror on her face veered violently left and launched off the track into Farmer Joes cow pond. With victory in site and a short distance to go Ricky sighed with relief. Not long after the front wheels began wobbling uncontrollably. This was surely going a disaster. Steven yelled “#3# and Rickey responded with haste. To all of or surprise an extra set of front wheels and axel dropped down to aid the damaged ones. Ricky soon coasted to victory. We could not contain our feelings and ran to Ricky to congratulate him. Meanwhile, several spectators were fishing the now wet and angry Betty out of the pond which now contained interested cows. She was clearly physically unharmed so we all continued our celebrations. With the sounds of the Derby crowd in the distance we all imagined they were cheering for us. Steven was beside himself with emotion. He had proved his theory. Steve after his harrowing fall had determined through his observations that halfway down the hill there would be a sudden push to the right as the trees on the side cleared, At the three quarter mark the push would revert to the left even stronger that the first. This made it very hard for the drivers to compensate in time. He felt it could only be done by a mechanical apparatus able to act more quickly. Remembering the failure of his wheels he added a final safety to compensate. That mod was added after hours and not discussed with me. He was correct and here we are. We were all ecstatic over the victory as Stan brought the trophy over to our car and presented it to us. The spectators chanted “Peace Train, Peace Train,” over and over as we walked among them. After a quick meeting and walked over to where Steven was watching us. Rickey took off the Dog Tags hung them on the trophy while handing it to Steven. He wept uncontrollably as we all hugged him. While this was taking place a very wet Betty walked over to Steven and gave him a kiss. Betty then turned around and did the same to me and with tears in her eyes she slowly walked away. I was dumbfounded! I would later learn that Steven was her Uncle and she had been very worried about his mental condition after the loss of her cousin. She would be eternally grateful to us for what we had done for him. Sitting here and remembering that day, many years have passed. Many races have come and gone. I have a large collection of bobble heads and even a Jesus bobble in my rear window. I have no recollection of who won the “Thrill at the Hill” that year, But, I will never forget the day the PEACE TRAIN rolled to victory and I received my first kiss from a girl named Betty. The “Drums of War” started getting louder that spring but this adventure gave us the confidence we needed to help us face the battles ahead.

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CHAPTER 2 The Sounds of Summer





Summer 1962 had arrived and my friends and I were full of expectations. Though the Drums of War were growing ever louder, we had no time for such things. We had planned much to do this year. Top of the list was to build a tree fort. It would allow us a space to spend time together. We chose a fabulous spot in my back yard but far enough from the house to give us privacy. Two large oaks close together provided a perfect notch for us to build. After having a production meeting, we all went our separate ways to gather supplies. Maya and Liz would gather nails and screws. Ricky and Jon had the job of scrounging wood at the construction sites in our area. My job was coming up with the most crucial elements, a hammer and a saw. These I would have to acquire from one of the Dads. Several hours had passed, Liz and Maya came back with a basket full of nails picked up at various construction sites. I fulfilled my mission by acquiring a hammer and saw from dads workshop with the provision “Take care of that or you won’t use it again”. Ricky and Jon did not do as well. Procuring just a half a dozen 2’ x 4’pieces of lumber. These will work well for the frame but we need a floor, sides and roof. A feeling of disappointment filled us as we stared at our pile of lumber. It makes no sense to start if we cannot finish. We spent the rest of the day in search of something meaningful to fill our time. The twins spent the week helping grandma plant a vegetable garden. Grandma called it her “Victory Garden”, as she did during WWII. Ricky, Jon and I joined them and had a great time eating Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches while Grandma told us stories about growing up during war times. Having been a small child during WWI, a mother during WWII and two sons fighting during the Korean conflict, there was plenty to tell. Openly Grandma discussed the fears and anxieties of having to cope with three wars. We sat and marveled at her recollections and the stunning details she conveyed to us. The discussion suddenly got very dark and the stories paused. Whispering softy but sternly, “Beware my young ones the times are changing.” I can feel it. A “Pale Horse” is on the ride once again.”

Saturday morning I awakened to the sounds of crying. Ricky’s mom was sitting in our living room looking very distraught. The dads were in the kitchen speaking softly. Ricky’s brother Raj had killed while on an Army patrol while on duty in Vietnam. I remember Raj being so proud when he became an American citizen and immediately joined the Army to defend his new country. Raj was a gentle kindhearted person who put the needs of others above all. His family moved in four years ago, I was just eight and Raj was 15 years old. Dad worked a lot and Raj took a liking to me. We made a deal, if he would help me learn to ride a bike, I would help him with his English. He called me Squirt and always had time for me no matter what was going on. After school, Raj would sit and talk to our new group and tell us stories of growing up in India and dreams and aspirations of becoming an American citizen someday. It took several days for Rajas casket to arrive in the US. Strangely enough, he did not arrive alone. Six other Soldiers caskets were on the plane and their bodies released to their families. The caskets draped in American Flags, were folded and handed to the soldier’s family. I could not help think to myself, “What was going on? We are not at war. Why are our Friends dying”? This thought burned in my brain constantly. Rajas family was Hindu so the traditions were a little different than we were accustomed. Friends and family met the next day at Rajas house to give last respects. The moms brought many containers of food to keep the huge crowd fed. Tyler and Betty showed around noon with parents along with Kelly and Ken. Betty and Raj had been close friends and she was visibly shaken. Coming over to me immediately, she sat down, grabbing my hand and squeezing tightly. She did not let go the whole time as we listened to stories about Raj from his parents. Tears fell continuously from both of us as we heard them speak. At about 5pm Rajas mom thanked all for coming and informed us that Raj would be cremated the next and in the fall they would take his ashes to India and spread them over a chosen Holy place.

Two days after the Wake Ricky and I were taking a stroll around the neighborhood when we came upon Tyler and Betty. There was not much time to speak at the wake so we took a while to catch up. After hearing of our Tree Fort fiasco Tyler had an idea. His group had also is contemplated building a fort but lacked the expertise and labor. I immediately set out to convince him about my expert tree fort building abilities. He was convinced enough that he offered the sheets of wood require to complete the fort at my house. His dad had just finished a large project and had plenty left over. Tyler’s dad said he would gladly donate to our cause. In turn, we would share the use of the fort. Construction would have started immediately but for one problem. None of us had any clue where or how to begin. Betty contacted Steven and asked him to help. He was more than happy to assist and even seemed to be enjoying himself. Construction moved quickly once we got started and within a couple of days, we were putting on the final touches on our new hangout. One thing still needed to be accomplished. After finding out about our construction project Ricky’s dad came to us with an idea. He would make a sign and put the name of our fort on it for all to see. All we had to do is come up with a name. That was easy! It was finished the next day and he arrived to install it. As he was mounting the sign, we could clearly read the name, “Fort Raj”. We all bowed our heads and sobbed.

While involved in our collection efforts I ran into a group of youths Dad had given the name Musgos. Tagging them after they stole the lighted candy cane from our porch one Christmas and stuck it atop a tree. Dad ran around town complaining “Those kids must go”. The name stuck and everyone referred to them by the name Musgos. Musgos were a ragtag group of misfits that had somehow found each other. It reminded Dad of the Neverland Lost Boys in Peter Pan. Buzz their leader was an intelligent good looking fellow of about 14 years sporting long blond curly hair, blue eyes and an arrogant disposition. Controlling a loose knitted band of younger misfits and ruled with an iron hand. At the core of Buzzes group was a boy named Ray whose nickname was Sneaker. Ray was 11 years old with short wavy brown hair and dark eyes. Being short for his age sparked Ray to make fun of on occasion. Rays nickname fit perfectly, if you needed someone for a spy mission Ray was your guy. He moved like a cat amongst the town people. A third member of the group, Tim was a 12 year old with long curly black hair that fell loosely over his bright blue eyes. Most of the group came and went on a regular basis. All the boys grew up in an area referred to in town as, “The other side of the tracks”. This was an old industrial area long abandoned, it had a sparse track houses still occupied with low income families. Outside of our Fort we had an excellent view of the area. Those Musgos had heard of our new Fort and Buzz decided to build a better one. Ray and Buzz began planning the most spectacular Fort anyone could imagine. There would be no shortage of supplies the warehouses in the area would give an unlimited supply of wood and nails for the building. Construction would begin on Monday after Buzz’s dad left to his job. A spot was chose in a large clearing in the rear of Buzz’s house. The structure went up very quickly. Ray had gained the assistance of Glen, his brother 17 years old. Glen had worked one summer as a carpenter’s assistant so therefore the local expert. After admiring the structure Ray decided to keep on going. Immediately he ordered the building of a second and third floor. Buzz had convinced himself that this would be the biggest and best fort ever, nothing else was acceptable. As the third floor began to rise it became visible from the window of our fort. We stood and peered through the window, watching with amazement as the construction continued. Dad saw the commotion and climbed up to get a view himself. Dad shook his head and climbed back down muttering something about the Tower of Babel. Several days passed and we decided to take a trip and visit the Musgo Fort. It was near dark so the trip would be a short one. The boys had added electricity to the structure by stringing a train of extension cords from buzzes garage. We had gotten there just in time for the first time lighting up. Ray plugged in the main plug and the result was amazing. It was lit up like a big city building. Betty, Ricky and I stood in awe as the Musko’s paraded like Royalty into a Palace. Buzz immediately declared himself king of all that could be seen. Ricky was curious so he followed inside. Soon he emerged on what Buzz referred to as the,” Penthouse Roof.” As time passed Betty pointed out smoke rising from the first floor window. She informed and he replied it was nothing to be concerned about. The smoke became prominent, Betty and I began to tell the boys they needed to get out immediately. Our warnings were ignored as they basked in the glory of their accomplishment. Suddenly, flames began to leap from both first floor windows. The Musgos panicked big time, pushing and climbing in an effort to escape. Tyler had just arrived and told us the Musgo’s were heading into the woods like rabbits. Meanwhile the fire had spread to the second floor and soon the third. Betty panicked as she realized Ricky did not come out of the Fort with the others. She called his name as loud as she could. All at once Ricky emerged onto the third story roof coughing from the smoke. The lower floors were engulfed in flames and there was no way for him to escape. We could hear the fire whistle but they would not arrive in time to save Ricky. Tyler and I ran to the house to search for a ladder. I found an old wooden ladder on the side of the house but it was in very good condition. I told Tyler it would have to do, we were nearly out of time. It took all our strength to drag the huge ladder to the fort and put up alongside the Fort. We could see the ladder was a little too short for Ricky to reach. One of us would have to climb and get him. I climbed the ladder while Tyler tried to steady the rotting legs. We could see Ricky was gasping from the smoke as I reached him. Fire was beginning to burn my jeans, we were out of time. There was no choice, Ricky would have to jump into my arms. As he leaped into my outstretched hands I could feel the ladder give way under our weight. We were falling quickly and I could tell Ricky would fall right on top of Tyler. As I was falling it seemed like forever and I could see the Fireman running up the driveway. Then it was over, I hit the ground feet first and the last thing I remember was a snapping sound. After that I remember nothing but waking up in the hospital with Mom, Betty and Ricky standing by my side. I had done it, Ricky was safe. Tyler’s body had broken the fall for him leaving only bruises. Not so good for me. I had broken both legs in the fall and they were in huge casts. So much for the rest of my summer vacation!

The rest of my summer I spent getting pushed around by Betty and Ricky. This I did not mind. It gave Betty and I time to get to know each other better. We talked and laughed about many things that had happened and about ourselves and the blunders we had made this past year. Overall the last half of the summer ended without incidence and the good news was my casts would come off before school starts. Meanwhile, Buzz’s dad payed a big fine to the town for allowing a building to be built without a permit on the property. We did not see any sign of the Musgo for the rest of the summer season, but we knew they would return again.



CHAPTER 3 The Drums of October


September 1962 had arrived and the Drums of War had become nearly impossible to ignore. Our life was flooded daily with newspaper headlines and Nightly television reports detailing the crisis unfolding. War had become a real possibility we had to deal with. Everyone developed their own methods of coping with the situation at hand. Our dads were not an exception!
On cool fall weekends, the dads loved to burn things. Many hours were spent building a large fire pit in my backyard over my mom’s loud objections. The dads spent their free time during the week to prepare for the next weekend’s burn. Wood and kindling were gathered by us kids to help prepare for the festivities, though we knew we were not invited. Mom locked up all the wood lawn furniture on Friday mornings because if the dads ran out of wood, the furniture may be next. Our backyard became the neighborhood-meeting place reserved for dads only. Each would save up burnable garbage from home and saved for the burn. That way each could tell the wives money was being saved on the garbage collection bill. Actually, trash collection was free in my town so the moms saw through that charade quite quickly. The Moms knew it was nothing more than an excuse to spend Saturday evening telling bad jokes, drinking and discussing the messed up state of the world. This was how the dads coped with the present day reality The ritual would begin after dinner on designated Saturdays. As dark began to fall the moms settled and gathered to discuss whatever it is moms discuss, the Dads began their ritual that started with the flame up ceremony. This took place by soaking the fire in gasoline or kerosene, each had their own method and turn on a rotating basis. Tonight was Maya and Liz’s dad's turn. He was definitely a gas person and one year we had the fire department at our house twice. Not a big deal, the fireman were dads friends and looked forward to a possible call so they could join the group for stories and a beer. Heck, sometimes the guys just showed up and called it an inspection. We kids were instructed to stay at a “safe distance”, which meant out of ear range. Very little could be heard or seen, but it was enough for us to be a small part. Surely it beat the hell out of what was going on inside the house that was for sure! Betty’s dad had joined the group so the gang from Third Street would join us to watch the festivities. We all had gotten close since the race. Betty confided to Liz that she enjoyed my company.

From our prescribed location we watched the festivities unfold. First came; the making of a strange drink called “Highball.” Ample amounts of Four Roses and Ginger Ale poured into very tall glasses I was told specifically for that drink. It made no sense to me because chocolate milk tasted fine in those glasses also. Slowly the Highball glasses became empty, and out came the beers. As the fire burned and the beer bottles and cans piled up the, “Burning of the sticks” began. For some reason each dad was holding a long stick which the tip was lit, waving it in the air while speaking. We had a problem when we were kids trying to figure this out but it became clear when we became adults and able to light our own fires. The next step in the fire ritual was the, “Telling of the jokes.” It was time to be hunted down and whisked away into houses. The moms said there would be words “not fit for a sailor's ears!” It was soon time for all us kids to head off to bed. The Moms brought us home and made sure we were secure in our beds. Gathering outside and we could hear them say, “It’s time to put a stop to this!” After many loud voices, the fire was out and the dads headed home. One thing was for sure, we would awake the next morning with our dads asleep on the couch. We kids made the decision one morning that the time was right for us to have our own fire. After all, we had seen it done many times. How difficult could it be? Make a pit, fill with wood, and pour gas and light! I think you can see where this is going. Our supplies were easily secured at last night’s fire pit, we were on our way. After walking far back into the woods, we quickly prepared our site. All stocked with wood we added our fuel to the fire. I would have the honors since I was in charge. Burning slowly at first we watched in awe at the developing blaze. Smiles that filled our faces began to fade and turn to looks of terror as the fire started spreading everywhere. We all ran as fast as our legs would carry us away from the disaster. Neighbors saw the smoke and the Fire Department arrived moments later. Fire had engulfed a large section of the wooded area but was extinguished quickly. The Fireman were at a loss to determine its origin. It was reported as a “Mysterious blaze” by the local papers. To this day, none of us has taken credit for the fire, nor did anyone suspect us. September was ending and a growing feeling of dread permeated the air. One thing was for sure “The sounds of the Drums” were becoming unbearable.  

Finally, we were back in school after a long hot fabulous summer. Something different was added to our daily routine, “Duck and Cover” drills. Loud alarms would touch off at any point during our day and we would begin. Grabbing our coats we crouched against the wall farthest from the window and cover our heads until we heard the all clear siren. At which time we would return to our normal class routine.

Our government suspected that the Russians were installing Nuclear Missiles on the island of Cuba, 60 miles from our coast. Missiles capable of reaching just about anywhere in the United States. These drills were to prepare us in case of attack. I don’t know how they were expecting us to handle this news but it was not taken lightly. We watched film after film that instructed us on preparations for survival. The films told us all we needed to do was, “Duck and Cover”. A catchy song was sung at the beginning and end of each film by a dancing turtle. At home the preparations were in progress for survival. We tore down Dads train set to make room for a new cupboard, which he had built. Mom stocked the cupboard with 200 cans of Chipped Beef and Spam and I was thinking that if a war were to happen I would be the first to starve. My job was to put signs on the outside of basement doors showing the symbol indicating a fallout shelter. Salesman were coming door to door trying to sell empty tanks to have buried in the backyard and modified as shelters. Special equipment such as Geiger Counters were sold out almost immediately at Army Surplus outlets along with Gas Masks and Iodine pills.

The situation at school was deteriorating rapidly. The toll on Teachers and students alike was beginning to show. Betty was in my class this year and chose a desk next to mine. When the alarm sounded Betty would grab my hand and follow me to our wall. Holding my hand tight and shaking the entire time of the drill. I could see the expression of terror in her eyes while we covered and waited. When the drill was over, Betty would not let go for an hour, shaking the whole time. She was not the only one having difficulty coping it took all I had to remain strong. After school, we started hanging out at the tree house. This became our place of solitude where we could discuss our issues from the day without criticism. We listened to each other and talked freely about the issues at hand. Betty would snuggle next to me close her eyes and somehow we felt safe up there isolated from all the worlds’ troubles. On October the16th, the confirmation came, the missiles were indeed in Cuba. Panic was the norm as Grocery store shelves soon emptied of vital supplies as fast as could be restocked. Betty and I stuck together like glue, she somehow felt safe when we were together. The drills at school became more prevalent and we were introduced to the school fallout shelter. It was our cafeteria located in the basement, it was now clearly marked with the fallout shelter symbol. Classes continued as normal but this seemed a small comfort for us.

On October 22, President Kennedy announced the blockade of Cuba. The next day Soviet ships began sailing toward the blockade. What was coming next no one knew. Fear gripped the nation. The Dads decided to hold the usual fire ceremonies on Friday night this week with one huge change. Moms and children were also invited. Dads and Moms all sat in a circle and talked seriously about the unfolding events. No one made an attempt to shield what was being said from us older kids. Betty and I sat snuggled together listening carefully, her hands were sweaty and shaky. War might break out any minute and the Dads wanted to drive us all up to the mountains to safety. Moms were more rational and talked of bonding together to get through whatever comes. All of us had stocked supplies and lived far from any big city. Talk of war and running away made Betty clutch me even harder until her nails dug into my skin. The moms and dads took a break and snuggled quietly by the fire. No arguing, no yelling at the kids just sitting quietly gazing at the fire. Upon seeing this, Betty turned to me and gave me a passionate kiss that seemed to last forever. Betty’s mom came over and told us it was time to go making no comment about the kiss. We all went to our homes, everyone went to bed early that night. The dads did not sleep on the couch that night.

When we awoke on Saturday morning, there was hope in the air. Kruschchev announced to his people that he would move Missiles from the island if the United States would respect Cuba’s sovereignty and not invade. This was a huge leap from the mood last night. I am sure mom was now wondering what she was going to do with 200 cans of spam and chipped beef. Dad and mom sat down and started talking about the future. I immediately ran to Betty’s house where she met me with a big kiss and a hug. We gathered the gang all together at the fort and talked about last night. Our fears and nightmares needed to be brought into the open. Ricky tried to tell us he had not been afraid, we all knew better and just smiled. Betty and I just listened and laughed together. We had made it once more, stronger and tougher than before. The Pale Horse did not prevail this time, it goes to await another day to arise. Many more trials would be ahead for our small group. Some of us would get lost along the way. The drums of war were still beating but ever so much quieter now. We could for now again dream of better times.

Chapter 4 The holidays arrive

October had come and gone and the Holidays are upon us. Thanksgiving as usual means one thing in our town, Football Rivalry Day at the local High School. People from town and Alumni gather for the annual battle, the Oak Hill “Battling Bears” versus the Ridge View “Fighting Owls”. Our Mascot was a terrifying site. Stan the Mountain dressed in a Grizzly Bear suit made by a local Taxidermist. Speakers installed in the suit made his roar shake the stand trying to look more like an owl. The Owl haunted our sidelines during the games making a creepy screeching sound. It reminded us of the noise that Farmer Joes dog made the time he got his tail stuck in the wood grinder.

Dad and I woke up early and got our Bear caps and headed out to the Stadium so we could get our traditional seats on the 50 yard line. Uncle John’s son Josh was one of the key players for our side. When we arrived Jon was already waiting with our seats saved. I don’t get to see Josh much; he lives on the other side of town with his mother. On weekends he is with his dad but with Football and his dad he does not have much free time.

Our team has been Top 10 in the State for nearly 10 years and we only lost this game 1 time in 20 years so our coaches and players were feeling extremely confident in their ability to triumph. The game started with Josh scoring a touchdown on the first play, a 50 yard pass setting the school record for season scoring. Uncle John nearly fell he was so excited. Players on our side began strutting around the field like the Owl to taunt the other team. After that things took another turn as the Owls scored three straight touchdowns on three fumbles by our players. Soon the Owls took a 21-7 lead at Half Time. The coach and players went immediately to the locker room to discuss strategy for the second half. You could hear the screaming voice of the coach from outside the locker room and it was clear he was not happy with their performance.

The second half began with an Owl touchdown. Clearly by the dejected look on the player’s faces they had given up. At that time the Owl became very annoying. Taunting our sidelines with that horrible screech each time his team made a good play. Soon our Bear had enough. Charging to the Owl he made believe he was devouring it while carrying it to the other side. Our stands went wild as security led him away growling and waving his arms in triumph. Owl did not return. When the game was over we had lost 40-7. It was the worst loss in our team’s history. The owls would carry home the trophy for the first time in 20 years. Dad and I proceeded home to join the holiday festivities. Uncle John and Josh would join us late for dinner, Aunt Susie had arrived and I was sure she had brought her traditional dish of Giblet casserole. As she handed it to Mom she would say, “Don’t want them to go to waste”. After she left I was sure Mom would feed it to the neighbor’s dogs. Mom of course had planned a delicious meal and we began as soon as everyone arrived.

After dinner the men went into the den to watch football. At least that’s what they told everybody. Within 10 minutes they had all fell asleep. Betty and her family had gone to New Jersey spending the holiday with relatives so I would not see her until we were back in school.

The days passed quickly and the Christmas Holiday was upon us. Betty and I spent Christmas week helping Steven get his lights up and tree decorated. This would be Stevens first Christmas holiday without his son and we did not want him to feel alone. Christmas morning I woke up to a wonderful breakfast Mom had prepared for us. Under the tree I had a new tool set from Dad. I would not have to borrow his anymore. He got me a fire extinguisher, which was his way of telling me he knew everything. After opening presents I left and went Betty to exchange gifts. I had gotten her a necklace with here name engraved on it. When I arrived she greeted me with a hug and a kiss. She handed me my present and I opened it quickly. Inside was an ID bracelet with my name stamped on the top. The other side was engraved with, “Love always Betty”. We decided that from this day we were officially going steady. We could not have been more excited.

Soon we were off to see Maya and Liz at Grandma Jane’s house. When we got there Grandma Jane gave us both a hug and welcomed us into her home. Quietly she said to us that she had a present for us later. Grandma Jane had prepared a fabulous Christmas diner which all enjoyed thoroughly. Steven came later but Grandma Jane made sure he got his fill of food too. She began to speak about the events last year and how we should all remember what we have learned from them. “That is how you grow” she said. We all agreed we were blessed to have such good friends and family to help us through the difficult times.

Later on Grandma Jane led us all to her den and asked us to sit down. She would tell us the story of her event filled life. Grandma Jane told us to listen carefully, learn the lessons and use them. We would hear 60 years of history as lived, not from History books. As she began the room fell silent!

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