Gilbert Morris (10 page)
Authors: The Angel of Bastogne
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Ardennes; Battle of The; 1944-1945, #Christmas & Advent, #Christian, #Historical Fiction, #World War; 1939-1945, #Angels, #Christmas Stories, #Christian Fiction, #Religion, #Sagas, #Religious, #Historical, #Reporters and Reporting - Illinois - Chicago, #Holidays, #Veterans, #Christmas, #Love Stories
“I do not!”
“Oh, she does,” Billy Bob nodded. “I had to build a special room for her. Call it her âpout room.' She goes in there and won't eat until we all give in to her. Y'all will just have to stay or I might have to divorce her.”
“I don't guess you'd put up with that, would you, Mrs. Watkins?”
“Don't pay no attention to his foolishness! He loves to torment me.”
“But Ma, you don't know how interesting you be!”
In the end, Ben and Charlene stayed. Charlene sampled squirrel brains mixed in with scrambled eggs. They sat up until nearly dawn, with Billy Bob talking about the squad. He never mentioned his own decorations, but couldn't say enough about the rest of the men he served with.
“They was good men,” he said. “No better men ever lived.”
“Tell your dad one Razorback is sure grateful,” Robert Lee said. “If he hadn't saved Pop's life, I wouldn't be here.”
“That's right,” Billy Bob said, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. “Your daddy always said an angel told him how to nail that Kraut mortar. You going to put that in your story, Son?”
Ben didn't answer for a moment. He felt Charlene's eyes on him, and finally he said, “âThe Angel of Bastogne.' Makes a good title, doesn't it?” He turned to face Charlene and nodded slowly. “Yes, I think Dad would like it if the angel were in the story.”
* * *
They left the next morning, promising to keep in touch, and drove back to the regional airport. It wasn't much of an airport, but at least a plane could land. When they got in and took off, Ben talked for some time about how he had changed his mind about the story.
“What do you mean, Ben?”
“Well, I was always a cynical guy. I'd seen that movie so much,
It's a Wonderful Life
, and I didn't believe most of it. I didn't believe things turned out right. I've seen a lost of misery, like all of us haveâyou more than most, I'd guess. So, I was going to write a story about how most sacrifice is in vain. But I can't say that now.”
“No, you can't. It's been wonderful meeting these families, considering how your dad was instrumental in keeping them alive. I thinkâ” Suddenly the plane's engine coughed and then stopped without warning.
“What's wrong?” Ben said in alarm.
“I don't know.” Charlene was tense. She was moving her hands over the controls. Ben knew better than to trouble her when she was trying to get the engine back to life.
The plane began to lose altitude, and Charlene said in a terse, tight voice, “We may be going down, Ben.”
“You mean crash?”
Charlene did not answer. She was working frantically, but the plane was dropping like a stone. Ben braced his feet against the floorboard and stared at the ground below. It seemed to be rushing up at them at a tremendous rate of speed.
He suddenly recognized how unimportant some things were. He was going to die in a few moments, he was sure of that, and what had he accomplished with his life? He had become nothing but a cynical man afraid to admit that there was good in the world. In a dark world there were lights, and he had fled from them.
Suddenly, when it seemed that the ground was no more than a few hundred feet away, the engine burst into life. Charlene hauled back on the yoke, and the wings bit into the air. They skimmed the top of some trees, and Charlene fought to gain altitude.
“We'll be all right now, Ben,” she said, finally expelling her breath. She turned to look at him. “Are you all right?”
“I . . . I thought it was over.”
“So did I. Closest call I've ever had in a plane. It shook me up. You think you're ready for things like this, but I guess you never are.”
Ben said nothing. He was pale and took out a handkerchief to wipe the perspiration from his face. Charlene talked about what the possibilities might be and said, “I'm putting down at the next airfield. We'll have it checked over.”
“All right.”
They landed twenty minutes later with the engine running perfectly. When she shut it off and turned to Ben, she said, “I'm sorry. I know that was frightening for you.”
“It made me think a little bit. No, it made me think a lot.”
“What did you think, Ben?”
“I thought how worthless my life has been and how selfish and howâI'd like to do better.”
“Would you really, Ben?”
“Yes, but I'm afraid.”
“You don't have to be afraid. All God wants is âI want to.' If you want to, Ben, you can have a good life. You can have Jesus Christ, and that's the best life there is.”
Charlene always carried a little Testament with her, and she shared verses with Ben for a few moments. Then she said, “It's not hard to be saved. It's hard to live the Christian life, but to come into the kingdom of God, it's what God wants for you. All you have to do is turn and call.”
“Turn from what?”
“
From
everything that you know displeases God and turn
to
what the Bible says: âWhosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.' I've been praying for you, Ben, and I'm going to pray right now. And while I'm praying, within your own heart I wish you'd call on Jesus and ask Him to save you.”
Charlene began praying, and Ben felt that he had not enough strength to even lift his hand. He bowed his head, and he felt tremors go through his whole body. But suddenly he knew that Charlene was right. He had seen enough of his father and mother to know that there was such a thing as a real Christian. He had seen Charlene. He had seen Pete Maxwell. He had seen enough. He began trying to pray in his heart, and finally as he did, tears began to roll down his cheeks. He spoke aloud and asked God to come into his heart. Finally he was aware that Charlene was quiet. He lifted his head and wiped his face with his handkerchief.
“I know you called on God that time,” Charlene said quietly.
“I did, and from this moment on I'm following Jesus Christ and letting him direct me every day.”
Charlene reached out and took his hand and held it. Her eyes were glistening. “I'm so happy for you, Ben. And think how happy your dad will be!”
Ben sat at his writing table, the pale sunlight streaming in through the windows. The beams caught the myriad of dust particles as in a yellow spotlight. The motes were stirred up mostly by Clara Munson, who vigorously pushed the vacuum cleaner over the carpet. For Clara the war against dirt was a personal thing, and she scowled at the carpet as if it were a flesh-and-blood enemy. From time to time she would call a truce with the dirt and cast a furtive glance toward her employer. Clara visualized herself as a psychologist, although she would not have called it that. It was her firm conviction that she understood peopleânot what was on the outside but what was on the inside. For three years now she had studied Benjamin Raines, and up until recently she was certain that she had him firmly classified.
Clara's face turned itself into a frown, and finally she reached down and turned the vacuum cleaner off. As soon as the roar stopped, she could hear the song that Benjamin was singing. It was a Christmas carol and one she knew well, “Joy to the World, The Lord Has Come.”
Clara moved around until she could see Ben Raines' face more clearly. The puzzlement that had begun to trouble her showed itself more plainly.
He ain't never sung no Christmas
songs before. Not since I been here anyway,
she thought belligerently. She saw he was smiling as his fingers moved over the computer keyboard, and he was swaying from side to side in tune to his own music.
Finally Clara could stand it no longer. “I don't know what's got into you. I never knew you to sing no Christmas song before.”
Ben grinned at his cleaning lady. It amused him to cause her to wonder about his behavior. He leaned back, locked his hands behind his head and arched his body, for he had been hunched over the computer a long time. He stretched, extending his arms, then nodded. “I've decided to participate in Christmas this year, Clara. I'm even going to give you a Christmas present. What would you like?”
Clara Munson stared at her employer. She did not like for people to step outside the mold that she created for them in her mind. Still, there was something pleasant about the way Ben Raines looked. “All you ever gave me before was a ten-dollar bill in a card.”
“I know. So this time I'm going to give you a present nice enough to make up for all the years I've missed.”
Clara was speechless. She knew very well that Ben Raines did not believe in Christmas or in very much of anything else. Still, as she tried to think of a remark that would put him in his place, nothing came to mind. Finally she sniffed, “Well, I suppose people can change.”
“They certainly can, Clara.”
“What made you change?”
Ben was tempted to launch into the story, but knew that he would have to give up working, for Clara would have to know every detail. She had a curiosity as long as a piece of rope, so he simply smiled at her and said, “I just discovered that I'd been missing a lot, so you think about that present.” He hit the save button on his computer, got to his feet, and said, “I've got to go down to the office.”
“You want me to come in Christmas Day?”
“Come in on Christmas Day! I should say not! The very idea.” Ben walked over and suddenly put one arm around Clara and squeezed her. “That's no way to spend Christmas, and right now I wish you a Merry Christmas, Clara.” He laughed for no reason, then plucked his coat off the coat rack and slipped it over his shoulders. “Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!” He stepped outside, and Clara stood staring at the door he had closed behind him. She tried to think of some explanation for all this, and finally she said, “He don't seem like he's taken to drinkin'. I wonder if men go through a change of life like women do.”
She pondered that for a moment, then her brow wrinkled up. “Well, we'll see if it lasts. That's what we'll do.” She walked over and threw the switch on the vacuum cleaner and began pushing it vigorously back and forth across the carpet.
* * *
Ben locked his car and walked rapidly down the street toward the newspaper office. He passed no fewer than three
Salvation Army red pots hanging from black tripods and all watched over by the Salvation Army folk. Each time he stopped, pulled his billfold out, and extracted a five-dollar bill. The two ladies and the one man that guarded the treasure looked surprised and said with considerable enthusiasm, “Thank you, sir! Merry Christmas to you.”
“A Merry Christmas to you,” Ben had given back to each.
As he approached the door that housed the newspaper, he encountered Nick Farrell coming out. “Merry Christmas, Nick,” he said.
Farrell was a tall, thin man, a sports writer, and he had the stub of a cigar in his mouth. There was talk that he had been born with it in his mouth, for no one ever saw him without it. He chewed on it for a moment then nodded. “You're feeling chipper.”
“It's Christmas, Nick.”
“It always is this time of year.”
“You done all your shopping yet?”
“No. I let my wife take care of all that.”
“You shouldn't. You ought to do it yourself. Get into the spirit of Christmas.”
“Is this Benjamin Raines I see before me? Is this the guy that every year gripes about the commercialism of Christmas? I think not. It must be Benjamin's body taken over by an alien and trying to act like a regular fellow.”
“Not at all, Nick. It's just that I feel mighty good this year.”
“Good for you. I'll give you my Christmas list, and you can go take care of it. Better still, you can write my story for me.”
“Hey, I'll do that. Of course, I don't know much about sports.” His eyes suddenly danced, and he said, “Did you hear the story about the sportswriter that was given the assignment of writing an obituary?”
“No, but if they gave it to me, I wouldn't do it.”
“Well, everybody else was out of town, and this lady died. He tried to get out of it, but his editor insisted. So, he wrote her obituary in the form of a poem. Want to hear the poem?”
“I think I'm about to.”
“Here it is:
Here lie the bones of Nancy Jones;
For her death held no terrors.
She lived an old maid; she died an old maid:
No hitsâno runsâno errors.”
Nick suddenly laughed. “That's pretty good. I'll remember that.”
“Your family doin' good, Nick?”
It was the first time Ben had ever asked about his family, and Nick nodded. “Yeah, they're doing fine.”
“Good. Well, got to get to work. Have a glorious Christmas.”
Nick stared at Ben as he disappeared inside the building and finally shook his head. “What's got into Ben? He never acted peculiar before.”
Ben encountered several of his fellow reporters and greeted them all with a hearty Merry Christmas. He did the same with the clerks and secretaries and stopped by his boss's
office. He saw Sal working furiously, his brow furrowed up. Opening the door, he said, “Hey, boss!”
Sal looked up and frowned. “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”
“Never mind that stuff. How's that story coming? I've got to have it pretty soon.”
“Going to be the best Christmas story you ever heard.”
As Raines turned and went down the hall whistling “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” Sal watched him go. “I think he needs a vacation. He's going nutty on me.”
* * *
Willie was taken aback as Ben came through the door. His son's face lit up, and he came up and gave Willie a hug. It caught Willie off guard. Ben was not given to gestures of affection like this. “How are you doing, Dad?”
“Fine, Ben. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, the same old stuff. I just came by to talk to you.”
“Sit down.”
Willie watched, aware that something was bubbling over inside Ben's spirit. He was all he had left in the world, his only relative, and it had grieved him that Ben turned out to be so negative toward the world around him. Now he saw something working in him, and he said, “What's going on?”
“I just wanted to give you a report on Billy Bob. Charlene and I had a great visit with him.”
“He's doing good? That's great. I always liked Billy Bob. We keep in touch, you know.”
“He told me. I brought a letter for you from him.” He took the envelope out and said, “He said to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
A fond look came into Willie's eyes. “He was always up to something. I never knew a fellow could scrounge like he would. The rest of the company would be starving to death, and Billy Bob would come in with a rabbit or a chicken, something that he had scrounged. We always shared it no matter how little it was.”
“Well, he thinks highly of you. Did you know he won the Congressional Medal of Honor?”
“Oh sure, I knew about that. He never talks about it himself, though.”
“No. His wife told me. She's a fine lady. They've got a fine family.” He talked about their visit with Billy Bob, and finally his eyes lit up. “I've got something else to tell you, Dad.”
“What's that?”
“We had engine trouble coming back. I thought the plane was going down.”
“Well, it didn't, did it? You're here.”
“No, it didn't, but I thought it was. It shook me up, Dad, and when we finally landed, I couldn't stop thinking about it.” Ben's face grew serious, and he sat very still on the chair across from his father. “I know you haven't been happy with the way I've lived my life. To tell you the truth, I haven't been happy either. But when I thought I was going to die, it changed something, Dad. It made me think in a way nothing ever had.”
Ben went on to tell how he had been so shaken that he could hardly speak, and then he said, “Charlene talked to me about becoming a Christian. I guess it was my time, Dad.” His face lit up, and he reached out and squeezed his father's hand. “Because that's what I did. I just called on the Lord, and ever since that time I've been different.”
Tears came into Willie's eyes. He was not a man that showed emotion like this much, but he put his hand over Ben's and cleared his throat. “That's . . . that's the best news I ever heard, Ben.”
The two men sat there, their hands intertwined, and Benjamin Raines knew that things could never be the same between him and his dad again.
The two talked for awhile, and finally Ben said, “I've got one more flight with Charleneâto Florida to interview Roger Saunders.”
“I've been out of touch with Roger. He moves around a lot. Give him my best and wish him Merry Christmas.”
“I'll do that, Dad. When I come back, we're going to have the best Christmas you ever thought about.” He reached over again and hugged his father, and when he left, Willie Raines moved over to the window. When Ben came out and headed for the parking lot, Willie's eyes followed him. He reached down, got his handkerchief, and wiped his eyes and whispered, “Lord, it's been a long wait, but I thank You for saving my boy!”