Might as Well Join the Army

At 21, Rudy found himself dreaming of a life beyond the confines of his sleepy town. He had a taste, a nibble really, of big city life when he attended the Olympic Boxing trials in Toronto the year before and what that small bite tasted like was more. There was a great big world out there and he wanted to see it.

He didn’t have any specific complaints about life. It was okay. There was never a shortage of work. He had good friends. He had a comfortable home with Granny. She gave him all the freedom he needed, as long as he came in at a respectable hour and went to church with her every Sunday. But after living with her for 10 years, he felt it was time to move on. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, in fact he was very thankful that she took him in all those years ago. It was something deeper, something he just couldn’t deny, a fact of life everyone has to face at some point. Rudy had entered Granny’s home a boy, but he was now a man.

There were no words to express what he was feeling, and if there were, he didn't have them, but it felt like Woodstock was slowly suffocating him. It was silently squeezing the life from his soul with its stagnant familiarity. The same streets, the same people, the same jobs; nothing ever changed. Nothing. It was 1951 and he could feel the world changing, spinning faster somehow, fueled by post-war optimism and if he didn't act fast, he knew it would leave him behind.

He pondered the possibilities. Maybe he’d move to Saint John, or even Nova Scotia. He mulled his options over time and time again with his rival turned best friend, Nelson, a pudgy former bully with shocking red hair and pinkish skin.

Commiserating over Cokes one evening, Nelson straightened his chubby body, slammed his hand on the table and announced triumphantly, “brother, we’re joinin’ the Army!”

Rudy looked at his pal quizzically, wondering if maybe he had a little rum in his cola, they were sitting in a pub after all, “whadda ya mean, we’re joining the Army?”

Nelson rolled his reddened eyes, “ Army”" he slurred slightly, making the rum question clear, “boots, uniforms, guns, Army.”

Rudy sighed loudly. He had very little patience for alcohol and even less for those that drank it, “okay, Nelson, let’s join the Army,” he placated his friend.

Nelson leaned over the small wooden table, “I’m serious, brother,” he said empathically, “think for a minute." He pointed his finger, gently poking his companion in the shoulder, "There’s that war over in Korea and they’re recruitin’ like mad. I figure me an’ you got as good a shot gettin' in as anyone.”

Rudy relaxed slightly, leaning back on his chair and out of Nelson's reach. He was actually talking some sense. Rudy listened to the news every morning with Granny so he knew about the war in Korea. He wasn't sure what they were fighting about, but the word “Communism” was often uttered in hushed and threatening tones . He didn’t know what that was, but it didn't sound like a good thing. He leaned toward his buddy, “I’m listening”.

Nelson grinned widely; it wasn’t every day a person could bring Rudy around to their way of thinking. He took a big gulp of his drink, finishing it and waving at the waitress for another, “see, the way I figure, we get in, and we see the world. Think man, we could see Korea and China and Japan and all them places!” He was almost breathless at the thought of seeing such exotic locales.

Rudy sat quietly, listening carefully to his friend for the first time. Nelson was almost famous for his harebrained schemes and big dreams. He had more education than Rudy, having successfully completed the sixth grade before going out to work, but what he had in education, he famously lacked in common sense.

Nelson continued, “I already talked to my daddy,” he said, “an’ he thinks it’s a grand idea. Say’s it’ll be the makin’ of me, and I bet it could be the makin’ of you too”. He took a long drag of his cigarette, “and, think about the girls, you know ladies love soldiers”. He sat back, arms folded, certain he’s convinced his friend with that final point.

Rudy’s brown eyes narrowed. He sipped his cola, letting his friend’s words sink in. “Korea,” “China”, “Japan”, there were all words he’d heard in school lessons, little more than distant blobs on a map, almost mythical. The idea of actually seeing them was intriguing, to say the least.

So was the thought of meeting new women. He had a “woman problem” he knew he needed to solve and Nelson might just have unwittingly stumbled on the way to do it. The problem’s name was Frances. Rudy had been dating her off and on for about 4 years. She was a lovely girl, tall, slim, with velvety dark skin, sparkling chocolate brown eyes and a wonderful smile. She came from a good family and had finished high school. She sang in the church choir, and was even making some pocket money singing at weddings and other events. She had the voice of an angel and aspirations of moving to Montreal and becoming the next Ella Fitzgerald. And she wanted Rudy along for the ride. She was keen to marry and her hints had been becoming more and more persistent.

The problem was, Rudy wasn’t keen to marry, at least not to marry Frances. He liked her; he liked her very much. She was fine company and everyone told him they made a beautiful couple. He was sure they did and that they could live a perfectly reasonable and harmonious life together. But he wanted more than that. He wanted passion, the kind of passion he’d read about in Nelson’s gentlemen’s’ magazines. He wanted a woman he was willing to walk through fire for, someone that made his heart sing. And as beautiful, clever and talented as Frances was, she just wasn’t that woman. He had tried telling her his feelings but she always giggled, patted his arm in that condescending way and told him he needed to get his head out of the clouds. This might just be his way out. He knew she’d never approve of him joining the military. He smiled a wide toothy smile, “let’s do it!” he exclaimed.

Nelson nodded but continued lobbying, “real good pay too, better than we’ll ever get ‘round here.”

Rudy stood up, “I said, let’s do it.”

Nelson looked hard at his friend, processing his words and let out a whoop. “Cool, man!” He paused momentarily, “I made us an appointment,” he advised gingerly, “knew it was your day off tomorrow. Got my daddy’s car. We gotta be in Fredericton at 11, see some Sergeant.”

Rudy gulped, wiping his caramel-coloured face with his hand. Nelson had really thought this out. His mind raced at how fast this was all happening. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he nodded, figuring, best to get it done quickly, “pick me up at 9,” he said.

Nelson nodded, his blue eyes gleaming from a mix of satisfaction and alcohol.

Rudy started for the door, if he was going to do this, he needed to do it now and he needed to tell the women in his life, none of whom were going to approve. He had to go break the news to them. “I got people I gotta speak to,” he said as he made his exit.

Nelson gave a quick wave, knowing exactly what his friend meant and called behind him, “make some sandwiches for the drive, will ya’!” It was only an hour and a half drive to Fredericton, but he was low on cash and knew he’d get hungry sometime during the day.

Rudy laughed, “naw, I got money, we’ll get ourselves a decent lunch, my treat.” Rudy also loved to eat. He loved to cook too. But even better, he loved to eat when someone else did the cooking and if they were driving all that way, they could at least enjoy a meal served to them.

The next morning came with Rudy having mixed feelings. His conversations with his mother, Granny and Frances went about as expected. His mother sobbed, begging him to reconsider. The thought of him putting himself in harms’ way thousands of miles away was more than she could bear. His father calmed her down, much to Rudy’s surprise. He reminded his wife that their boy was now a man, and had a mind of his own. He made it clear that he wasn’t exactly supportive of the idea. He knew the horrors of war and lived with the aftermath every day of his life. But he also knew that Rudy was his own man and had earned the right to decide the course of his own life.

Reuben placed a firm hand on his son's shoulder, "couple things about the Army," he advised, "first, always keep care of your feet, they're the most important thing for a soldier." He gently guided the young man away from his mother and out onto the step, "second," he grinned, speaking quietly, "make sure you're "safe" with the ladies." Rudy nodded, grasping exactly what his father was trying to tell him without actually telling him.

Granny said next to nothing. Rudy saw the tears in her eyes. He tried to reassure her by telling her he’d continue to give her money. She was getting older and he knew she could use the help. She refused, it wasn't the money she was going to miss, it was her grandson.

Frances wasn’t so easy to deal with. Rudy sat with her on her front porch until just past midnight, listening to her various arguments. They were well reasoned and full of facts. When those arguments didn’t sway her beau, she issued an ultimatum, it was either her, and a life of domestic bliss, or his silly military adventure. When he chose the latter, she slapped his brown face and told him she never really wanted to marry him anyway. Rudy took his leave, satisfied he’d said his piece. He saw the tears in her eyes, and he had some too. He didn't want to hurt her, but he was glad to have finally gotten free of her.

The recruiting office was a small sterile office on King Street. The walls were a strange shade of green, somewhere between pea and puke and everything was metal. Metal desks, metal chairs, there was even a metal plaque on the wall.

But for all the metallic sterility, the process was more relaxed than he had expected. They were greeted by a warm, enthusiastic young soilder who offered them a coffee while they waited.

Nelson was called in first. He went into a room with a man, then he came out. No words were exchanged. Another guy took him to a different room, the same shade of green, for physical examination. Then he was summoned back to the first room. He came out with a bunch of papers crumpled in his fat pink hands. “I’m in!” he squealed with delight, “it was so easy!”

Then it was Rudy’s turn. In the first room, he was relieved to see Jim Cooke, a familiar face. He was his father’s commanding officer during the First World War. Rueben Sr. didn’t say much, but he did say Cooke was a fair and decent sort, a good egg. Rudy was surprised Cooke was still in the military, to be honest. He understood that 50 was the retirement age, and the man before him had to be older than that.

Cooke looked at the lean caramel coloured man before him, knowing exactly who he was. He was a bit lighter, more handsome, but he was Reuben through and through, “the minimum requirement for military service is successful completion of grade 8,” he said flatly.

Rudy nodded, he knew that he didn’t meet the stipulated educational requirements, but neither did Nelson. “My buddy Nelson only got grade 6,” he pointed out.

Cooke shook his head, he looked at the wiry, keen young man before him, a young man he had come to love as if he were his own over the years. Rudy was a fine young man, kind, decent, soft hearted, he didn’t belong in a war. “Son,” the sergeant began, “you don’t want to do this”.

“I’m here, ain’t I?” Rudy replied, his brown eyes narrowed with irritation.

Sgt. Cooke leaned over his desk, “Son, I served in the trenches with your daddy,” he laid his hand flat on his desk “come back when the war is over. You’re a good kid, your daddy’s a good man. I’m not bein’ responsible for sendin’ you over there.” He stood up, took a few steps toward Rudy and explained, "you young people, you think war is glamourous and exciting, like the movies. It's not". His voice got louder, "it's dirty and wet and scary, and too many good young men never come home." he bent down to meet Rudy's eyes, "I am not sending you home to your daddy in a body bag, boy, you hear me!"

Rudy stood up, indignantly stepping back. He challenged the recruiting officer, “I’m here,” he announced, “ and I ain't stupid, I know what I'm signin' on for." He paused, suddenly insulted, "you sayin’ I ain’t good enough for your stinkin' army?”

Sgt. Cooke shook his head, his hazel eyes wide as he headed back to his seat, “no, son, no,” he assured him, “what I’m sayin’ is you’re too good! I don’t want you messin’ your life up for some war a million miles away.” He smiled softly, sure the young man would accept his final word on the matter, "like I say, you come back when this business in Korea is over and I'll sign you up quick as lightning."

“But you want Nelson?” Rudy spat incredulously. Nelson was the last person he could think of any sane person wanting in a fight. He was out of shape, tending toward lazy and dull as dishwater. He didn't even know his left from his right.

Cooke stood up, and taking a deep breath, tried to explain, “Yes, he’s not you, I sat in a trench with your daddy, in Belgium….”

The eager recruit interrupted, “yeah, I heard all that and I don't mean you no disrespect, but I ain’t him". He took in a deep breath, trying to calm the anger welling in his belly, "and by the way, he says it’s okay, you wanna call him, call Mrs. Winlock’s and her groundsman will fetch him. He's expecting your call, said he'd hang around home in case”. He wasn’t about to let the Army take his dimwitted friend without him.

Cooke nodded, seeing he was getting nowhere. If the young man had his father's blessing, there wasn't much he could do. He allowed Rudy to proceed to medical screening, with a caveat, “If you pass the medical, you still gotta pass me,” he said flatly.

Rudy stood stiff and silent.

“I owe your father my life,” Cooke said, “he saved my skin, not dressing it up, he did.” He continued telling Rudy about his father, “we was at a bad spot and your daddy shoved my face in the dirt. Broke my nose. He told me to keep my ass down.” He tried to choke back his emotion, but the tears were already in his eyes, “he and three or four of the boys went out front... dodging bullets and firing back with all they had,” he said with a mix of pride and pain, “we lost 2 men and if it weren't for your daddy, I'd have been number 3”.

Rudy remained stiff and silent. “Yes sir, I understand, sir.” Although he was proud of his bravery, he really didn’t care about his father at this point. He wanted to be judged as his own man.

Cooke grinned, it was a mischievous, self-satisfied smirk. At 6”7” and 350 pounds, he presented the would-be recruit with an insurmountable task, “tell you what, Johnson,” he giggled with anticipation, “pass the medical and come back here. Knock me down, I’ll sign you up.”

Rudy nodded. He proceeded to the medical which he passed with flying colours and came back to see Sgt. Cooke. “Back, sir” he announced tentatively, he knew what was coming and he really didn’t want any part of it.

Cooke nodded back, stood up, inhaled deeply, and took a wide stance, “okay boy,” he challenged, “knock me down.”

Rudy shook his head, “can’t sir,” he said softly, “I got too much respect for ya.”

Cooke stood firm, “son,” he said loudly and sharply, “if you want in MY army, you do as I say!” He was sure the thin young man, some 8 or 9 inches shorter than him, and at least 150 pounds lighter, would never meet his demand. His eyes twinkled with the knowledge that he has saved his old Army buddy’s son from a decision he was sure to regret in time.

Rudy looked Cooke directly in the eye, he thought hard. It was his only way in. He thought again, the man was asking for it. He took a deep breath; he pulled his right arm back. He paused, looking at the middle-aged giant before him. He wasn’t sure he could do it. His stomach was flipping and flopping inside him. His core felt like jelly. He inhaled again, steeling himself, pulled his arm back and unleashed his right hook with all the power he could muster. Cooke flew back, his body limp, lifeless.

Rudy panicked, his stomach now in his throat He ran over to the Sergeant, now semi-conscious, slumped against the wall, “Cooke, Sgt. Cooke,” he yelled, terrified he had hurt the man, “you okay?” He shook the man, hard, willing him with all his might to wake up.

Cooke shook his head, his hazel eyes still trying to adjust to the blow, “welcome to the Army, son,” he whispered. “just gimmie a minute and I’ll do them papers.” He sat, in stunned disbelief as he slowly came around.

Rudy nodded, relieved and satisfied.

Cooke rubbed his eyes and straightened himself against the wall, “your orders will come in a couple weeks by mail. Read the orders and do exactly what they say.”

Rudy nodded solemnly and helped Cooke up, “thank you sir, I’ll be ready,” he assured the battered recruiting officer.