The Road to Memphis (11 page)

Throughout the services there hadn’t been many tears. Reverend Gabson had been dearly loved, but nobody much was crying about his passing on. He had lived a good many years, and the Lord had called him home; that was the way of life. Folks had mourned him for two days, including an all-night wake. Respects had been paid, and now life got on.

The day took on a festive air. Having come the distance, everybody now took the opportunity to visit. What with the miles between Pinewood Ridge and the Little Rosa Lee, Smellings Creek and the town of Strawberry, a lot of folks hadn’t seen each other since the Revival in August, and most likely would not be gathering again in such numbers until the next Big Meeting. So folks told good-natured stories about Reverend Gabson, laid out bowls of food on the backs of wagons and truck aprons, laughed and joked and talked, and had themselves a good time.

Nobody left.

After we ate, the boys and I stood near the well listening to Clarence talk about life in the Army. He hadn’t even mentioned Sissy. He told a story about his sergeant and how he had already gotten on his wrong side by questioning an order he had been given. His punishment had been spending one whole night digging holes, filling them, then digging them up again.

“Well, I know one thing,” said Little Willie, as Clarence laughed at his own story, “Army sure ain’t for me.”

“Will be, they call you,” predicted Clarence.

“They didn’t call you,” I said. “You in the Army because you want to be.”

“Well . . . they’d’ve called me sooner or later. Sergeant said they getting mighty serious ’bout that war over there in Europe. Said we ain’t in it yet, but we gonna be.”

“Yeah,” Moe quietly agreed. “What with all this talking war, I been thinking maybe I’ll do like Clarence and go ’head and join up myself.”

I shot him an incredulous look. “What? Boy, what are you talking about?”

Clarence laughed. “He wanna get sharp like me! You like these uniforms, too, don’t you, Moe?”

Moe shrugged. “Be twenty-one my birthday come up, and I’m gonna have to go register anyways. Was just giving thought to when I do, I’d just go ’head, join up, and get it over with.”

I questioned his sanity. “Are you out of your mind? You may get more than that over with, we ever end up in a war.”

Moe looked at me but didn’t say anything. Little Willie did, though. “Ah, face it, Cassie. These here white folks want to get in a war, we ain’t got nothing to say ’bout it. We get in that war over in Europe, we all gonna hafta go soldiering, that’s just the way it is, we like it or not. Just the way it is . . . .” He smiled, but the smile just backed up the seriousness of what he had said. Little Willie wasn’t often serious with his joking ways, but there had been no joking in his words now, no laughter in his voice now, and I found that disturbing.

“Well, I don’t see it that way,” I said.

“That’s ’cause you don’t want to see it.”

I cut Little Willie a look but let it be. Maybe he was right.
Maybe I just didn’t want to see it that way. Maybe that was because I didn’t give too much thought to a war, despite the fact that accounts about the war in Europe were plastered across the newspapers each day and news about it seemed to be always on the radio. The notion of war to me was far removed. War was something happening in a place called Europe that had nothing much to do with us, nothing much to do with the folks of Great Faith, except for the fact that all the boys reaching twenty-one were having to register for military service, but I didn’t worry about that. I didn’t figure anybody close to me would ever have to go fight, so I preferred not to think about it. The thought was too foreign.

“Was thinking, I join up,” Moe went on, “maybe I could even get to be an officer . . . maybe a pilot or something.”

At that, Little Willie let go a rip of a laugh. “An of-fi-cer? Maaaan, don’t you know they ain’t going to let no Negro be no of-fi-cer? Colored regiments got white officers, fool!”

“Well, anyway, I read ’bout some,” said Moe quietly. “There ain’t many, but there’s some.”

“Read ’bout ’em in what comic books?” scoffed Little Willie.

Stacey, having listened in silence to all this, now pulled away from the well. “Well, y’all just go head and join your Army, but I’m telling you now, they get in this war, they can just fight it without me. I got no reason to fight their war.”

Little Willie laughed again. “Well, they can just fight it without me too, son, they be giving out any choices ’bout the thing!”

On a sudden Oliver gave Little Willie a nudge. “’Ey, look-a-there,” he said as Jeanette Jones, Georgia Henderson, and Peaches McDonald passed by with some young men from
Smellings Creek. Both Oliver and Little Willie smiled their hellos, but not one of those young ladies uttered a word. At the snub Oliver said, “Willie! Peaches talk to you yet?”

“Naw, nothing except to tell me to go take my talk to Sissy.”

“Yeah, I been hearing that same thing from Georgia,” commiserated Oliver. “What ’bout you, Stacey? Saw you over there trying to talk to Jeanette. Seen you ain’t talked too long.”

Stacey conceded that. “Told her I’d talk to her later.”

Little Willie laughed. “After Miz Noble’s meeting, huh?”

Stacey smiled, acknowledging that was so.

“’Ey, Stacey!” yelled Little Man from the church steps. “Grandma Batie and Miz Noble said they want to talk to y’all. Now, they say!”

Without a word Clarence moved from the well, but not toward the church. “’Ey, Clarence, where you going, man?” Little Willie called after him.

“Not in that church, that’s for sure.”

“Man, you the main one s’pose to be in there!”

“Way I figure,” said Clarence, “maybe you the one s’pose to be in there.”

“What! Man, you gone crazy?”

“You said you gone out with her, ’round here behind my back!”

“Man, that wasn’t nothin’! Only seen her one time when we come down, and that was in October—”

“One time was enough!”

“You crazy, man! ’Sides, what you care? You wasn’t seeing her no more. Said you was shed of her and gone off to the Army!”

“Yeah, and soon’s I was gone, you done made yourself right at home with Sissy, and from the looks of things you done made yourself at home long ’fore October—”

Little Willie, fists clutched, stepped right up to six-foot-six Clarence. “Man, I oughta knock you out!”

Stacey stepped in front of Willie and faced Clarence himself. “Now, just hold on, you two. Clarence, you got no call to go blaming Willie here. I went over to talk to Sissy myself to see how she was doing.”

Clarence’s face, so full of good nature just a few minutes ago, was now clouded in doubt and jealousy. “Well, then . . . maybe it’s you.”

Stacey fixed his eyes on Clarence. “You know better’n that.”

Clarence scowled across at his friends and mumbled, “Well, maybe it ain’t you, Stacey. Maybe it ain’t even Willie here. But one of y’all ’sides me been messin’ with Sissy, and that’s the truth of it! She already done said so!” He glowered accusingly at Moe and Oliver. “Sissy got no reason to go lying on herself.”

Oliver took real offense at that. “Don’t know what kind of thinking Sissy’s doing. Don’t know her reasons for nothing, but don’t you come looking at me to blame, Clarence! I don’t know who Sissy been ’round, but it ain’t been me! Ask me, the girl is an out and out lie, and a girl lie like that could be sleeping ’round with anybody—”

No sooner than Oliver got that out, Clarence started in for him. Stacey pushed him back. Moe stepped forward as well, put an arm around Clarence, and tried to calm him down. “Look, Clarence,” Stacey said, “it’s not going to help for you to go fighting with Oliver or any of the rest of us.”

Clarence looked at Stacey and Moe and backed off.

Little Man again hollered out. “Ma Batie and Miz Noble said y’all coming?”

Stacey glanced at him, then back at Clarence. “You still not going in?”

“Naw.”

“All right, then, it’s up to you. Best the rest of us go on and get this thing straightened out.”

Little Willie shot Clarence a hostile look. So did Oliver. Then the two of them went with Stacey. Clarence turned to walk away, but I caught his arm. “Since you not going in the church, you going to go talk to Sissy?”

“Naw . . . what we got to talk about?”

“What you got to talk about? Boy—”

“She done told everybody that baby ain’t mine. Seem like to me she done said it all!” With that he pulled away from me and walked off across the church grounds toward his family’s wagon. I watched him go, not liking any of this. Stacey, Clarence, Little Willie, and Moe had been best friends since they had been in short pants, and Oliver had joined that friendship whenever he came down on visits from Jackson. They had gotten themselves into much of the same mischief together, and they had gone through a lot of the same grief as well. Now Sissy with her trouble-making accusations was causing them to argue and almost fight, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like one bit what Sissy was doing, and I decided I was going to tell her about it, too, all about it, as soon as I caught up with her.

“Cassie?”

I turned. Moe was still standing there. “Aren’t you going in for the meeting?” I asked.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the church. “Yeah . . . in a minute. Just wanted to talk to you first.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to you too. Want you to tell me how come you got fired.”

He looked away, across the field. “Just couldn’t get along with some of the other men down there.”

“What men?”

“White men,” he said, as if that explained the matter. “Look Cassie, I just wanted to tell you why I been thinking on joining the Army. I been thinking on my future. You know I want to make something of myself, Cassie.”

“And you figuring on doing that in the Army?”

“Figure maybe I can get me some opportunity in the Army. Read about how the Army give schooling and training of folks join up. Figure I could get some of that schooling and training. Cassie, you know how it’s been with me. You know how since Stacey and me quit school I been trying to figure out a way to get a good living and maybe get a place and move my family off that land we been sharecropping all this time. You know that.”

“I know you’ve been talking about it long as I can recall.”

Moe nodded. “Know I can’t buy four hundred acres like y’all got. Can’t buy near to that, but if I could just get myself a little place—maybe twenty-five, forty acres, just enough so my daddy can make a living off it ’stead of cropping all his life . . . . It’s important for a man to have land, something of his own, and I want my daddy to have something.” His eyes fixed on mine. “Y’all oughta know how it is, ’bout having something, ’cause y’all got something already. Y’all got land.”

I could understand his feeling about land; yet I said nothing. Moe looked at me as if I didn’t really know a thing about how he was feeling; then he looked away and bit at his lower lip. “For me to go and get my daddy that land, Cassie, I need me a good job, and I need me some opportunity. I was thinking maybe the Army could give me some opportunity. Like I said, I been reading ’bout programs set up for training colored pilots and colored officers too. Maybe they won’t train me in that, maybe I ain’t got enough schooling for them to train me
for something like that, but maybe I can learn me something else. I don’t know ’xactly what, but I’m just figuring, if we get in that war, there’s going to be a whole lot of opportunities for me to get some kind of training.”

“There’ll be plenty of opportunities, all right,” I agreed. “Opportunities for you to go get yourself killed.”

Moe didn’t respond to that.

“‘Sides, Uncle Hammer fought in that last war, and he said about the only opportunity most of the colored soldiers saw was unloading ships and cleaning spittoons.”

“But don’t ya see, Cassie? Things are already opening up. Just look at Jackson. We could get hired on jobs colored folks used to not be able to get, seeing that white folks are taking them new defense jobs they setting up ’cause-a that fighting overseas. White folks can make more money working in them defense jobs, and we can make more money working them jobs they leaving—”

“Somehow, that doesn’t seem like a whole lot of opportunity to me—”

“More’n we had.”

“Yeah, well, you tell me something, Moe. We got all this opportunity opening up, how come you want to go and join the Army then? Stay in Jackson and get your opportunity.”

His lips teased into a smile. “I join up, you’d miss me?”

“Course I’d miss you. Besides that, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me for colored folks to be going way over to Europe somewhere fighting in somebody’s war and getting killed. Colored folks want to get killed so bad, they can stay right here in Mississippi and do that.”

Moe glanced at me, started to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He headed toward the church, then stopped, came back to me, and put his hands on my shoulders. But
before he could speak Little Willie hollered, “’Ey, Moe! Son! Ain’t ya heard? Miz Noble said she want every last jack one of us up here? You comin’?”

I laughed. “You best go on before Miz Noble comes out and get to looking for you.”

Moe half smiled and reluctantly it seemed, let go of me. He turned, the half-smile still etched on his face, and headed for the church. As he walked away I saw Sissy cross from a truck and head for the road. She was still barefooted. I took one more look after Moe and ran after her. I planned on talking some sense to the girl. I caught up with her and she smiled widely and stopped. “’Ey, Cassie,” she greeted me.

“Where you think you going?” I said.

Her answer was simple. “Home.”

“Home? Girl, don’t you think you best get yourself on up to that church and straighten out your mess?”

“Mess? What mess?”

“Girl—”

“I’m going home,” she repeated and continued on her way.

It was obvious, if I was going to talk to her, I had to walk with her, so I did, fussing all the while. “Sissy, you know you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

“Nothin’ to be ashamed ’bout.”

“Don’t you figure all of this is your fault? You got everybody in an uproar around here. These girls Stacey and them been courting, they’re mad, families mad, the boys are mad—”