Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise (27 page)

The thing that bothered Lucas most was that he had told Lieutenant Perry about Johnnie, and she had said many of the same things Marla had said. What he found interesting is that Lieutenant Perry was far more forthcoming, far more direct with her appraisal of Johnnie and the situation itself. Not only had she called him a slave, but she had called him the worst kind of slave because he didn’t know what condition he was in. He began to wonder if he was damaged goods as she had said. And if he was, what if anything, could he do about it? According to Lieutenant Perry, his father’s legacy, the blood that coursed through his veins, would in all likelihood determine his ultimate fate, which unnerved him.

Lieutenant Perry’s theories about who he was and what he would eventually become made him search his soul for a truth he had not yet considered. According to her, his life was a burgeoning cesspool that he floated in along with the rest of its foul smelling inhabitants. So vivid was her description of him, what he was on the inside that he began to wonder if he had been in the cesspool so long that he had gotten used to the filth floating around in it. The power of her commentary made him question whether he was as out of control as she had asserted. He didn’t think so. He still didn’t see anything wrong with lying down with a woman that he wasn’t married to, even if she had taken an oath and was committed in holy wedlock. That was her problem, not his. It wasn’t like he had committed murder or anything. After all, murder was definitely wrong. But sex with a beautiful woman felt good. Therefore it was good, and he was going to get himself another piece as soon as he found a willing female even if she was married.

Besides all that, there was another lover on the horizon, and she needed his full attention. Her name was spelled A-R-M-Y.

Chapter 50

“
Do they understand their responsibilities?”

H
aving convinced himself that he was a good person, he got up and went to the latrine. On the way, he looked at the clock. It was 4:45. The bugle would sound in fifteen minutes. When he finished in the latrine, he went over to Lynchburg’s bunk and woke him up. Whispering, he said, “The bugle’s gonna sound in about ten minutes. Get the squad leaders up and have them wake up the men. I want the men ready when Sergeant Cornsilk returns. We’re gonna sing ‘My Country Tis of Thee’ when he comes in. Understand?”

“I’ma say this shit one last time because you obviously didn’t hear the sergeant a few hours ago. This is not a democracy. You don’t have a vote. Whatever the sergeant says goes. He put me in charge, and you’re under me. He told you to back me up. If I hav’ta to tell you this shit again, I’ma kick yo’ ass. Now get the squad leaders up and have them get the rest of the men up. When the sergeant walks in, I’ma call all the men to attention, and then we will sing. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“On second thought, I’ll wake up San Francisco. You wake up Cheyenne.”

Lynchburg, bare-chested and still in his white shorts, hustled over to Cheyenne’s bunk and woke him up. Cheyenne’s real name was Chauncey McKenzie. They immediately started waking up the other recruits.

Two minutes before the Reveille bugle sounded, the barracks door opened and closed. They could hear the sound of Sergeant Cornsilk’s combat boots clicking. He turned on the lights.

Lucas came to attention, and then shouted, “Atten-hut!”

There was but one sound that rang out; that being the sound of nearly fifty men bringing their heels together synchronously. Then, in one voice, they sang the following words:

“My country tis of thee . . . Sweet land of liberty . . .”

Sergeant Cornsilk came to attention and held his hand to the brim of his headgear in a salute as they sang. They finished singing just before the Reveille bugle sounded. When the barracks was quiet again, Cornsilk shouted, “Alright sissies. We gotta busy day today. And don’t think for a second you impressed me. You didn’t. From this moment forward, you will do everything as a unit. You will do everything with military precision. First, we’re gonna march over to the Mess Hall and get you some chow.” He looked at Lucas. “There will be no talking in the chow line. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

After you get your SOS, that’s shit on a shingle for you dumb bastards from Fort Lauderdale, you will find an empty table. You will set your tray on a table and wait at attention until three other recruits join you. Is that clear?”

“And I better not see anybody acting like they’re at their favorite restaurant eating French cuisine. You will eat quickly, and you will leave the Mess Hall. You will then wait outside in formation for the rest of the platoon. Understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“After that, we’re gonna march over to the barber shop and get your haircuts. After that, we’ll march over to the hospital, where you’ll get your shots. Then, we’ll go over to the quartermaster’s office and get your uniforms, underwear, socks, and boots. From there, we’ll go to finance and get you broke bastards some money to purchase the items you’ll need. Then, we’re going to the Post Exchange, where you will buy toiletries, including toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors and blades, and a shoeshine kit. Understand?”

“Outstanding!” He looked at the men and said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Get into formation in front of the barracks. Move!” He looked at Lucas and said, “New Orleans. Stick around for a second.”

“Hot damn, son! You keep that up for sixteen weeks, and you just might make it. Now get out there with the rest of the men. We gotta long day ahead of us.”

Chapter 51

“
Your car won’t be fixed for three weeks, right?”

J
ohnnie walked out of Lucille’s at exactly 1:30, expecting to see Paul Masterson’s pickup truck with him in it and the engine idling. She had been thinking about him since he offered to take her back to The Flamingo Den for lunch. She liked him, but she wondered what he would think of her if he knew her past; especially given her age, being only seventeen. She knew and understood that men didn’t like women that had more than a man or two in their secret place. Even when a woman has had a man or two, men prefer that she was married to the men, not some woman that easily opened her legs. Men thought women who did that were whores, and no man wanted a whore for a wife.

She thought that since she had invited him into her hotel room and he had declined, he would have much higher standards than the average man, but quickly reminded herself that even if he had come inside her room, she would not have let him inside her. Entering her hotel room was one thing, but entering her was quite another. Besides, the invitation was more of a salve for her bruised ego when he, being a white man, didn’t even try to kiss her. That intrigued her as it did most women, color notwithstanding, because women had to say no to men ten times a day, even if they were ugly. Beautiful women had to suffer through twenty or more invitations to sex and a myriad of salacious looks in a single day. So, when Paul Masterson didn’t try to kiss her and rejected her invitation for presumed sex, she wanted to find out what made him so different.

A few seconds later, Paul’s truck stopped in front of Lucille’s. She looked in at him, smiled and said, “For a minute I thought you had turned me down a second time, Mr. Cowboy Preacher.”

“Talk about sexual innuendos,” Masterson said, “I think it’s you that’s trying to seduce me.”

Johnnie got in the truck, tossed her Wall Street Journal on the dashboard, and said, “So, what if I am. Afraid you can’t handle me or what?”

Masterson pulled off and said, “How old are you, Johnnie?”

“Why Paul Masterson, a southern boy like you outta know it’s impolite to ask a woman her age. Don’t y’all know that, Mr. Cowboy Preacher?”

“Well, have you ever been married? Do you have any children from the marriage?”

Johnnie smiled. “I appreciate you asking if I was married before asking if I had any children, Paul. Most folk just assume a colored girl has children and no husband to speak of. I guess you’re different.”

“We’re all different, Johnnie.”

“You mean white folk?”

“No. I mean people in general. Sure, there are similarities, but we all have a different fingerprint, which speaks very loudly to our individuality.”

“I bet you went to college, didn’t you, Mr. Cowboy Preacher?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“Doesn’t surprise me none. You come off like a good ol’ boy, but when you want to, you’re very well-spoken. So, where did you go to school?”

“Dallas Theological Seminary. I’ve got a Master’s of Divinity degree, class of 1946.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked at his ring finger. No ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. It only meant he didn’t wear a wedding ring if he was. “And are you married?”

“That was my original plan. But now, I might just stick around for a while. Perhaps a week or so. Your car won’t be fixed for three weeks, right?”

“Right, but how did you know that?”

“You’re pretty well-known for someone who’s just passing through. Isn’t that what you told me last night?”

Chapter 52