Read Online Abandoned: MIA in Vietnam by Bill Yancey - Free Book Online
Authors: Bill Yancey
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from winning the prize – two free nights in a hotel, all expenses paid, in Japan. Maxwell earned the title Sluggo and the prize when he accidentally hit the second-to-last man with an elbow while winding up to punch him. He had had no idea the other sailor stood directly behind him. Maxwell’s elbow caught the man in the back and pushed him forward so fast he tripped and fell to the canvas.
“Don’t do martial arts any more,” Maxwell said. “I have an ex-cop on payroll for the heavy work. You did some boxing, too, if I remember.”
Wolfe thought for a minute. “Yeah. I suspect it was right after I joined the ship. You guys were practicing and I went a round or two with Saulson.”
“Gave him a black eye, too,” Maxwell said.
“That was an accident,” Wolfe said. “He didn’t block an easy jab. My being left-handed gave him fits.”
“Didn’t you have a fight with Grender, too?”
Again, Wolfe had to pause and search his memory. He chuckled when he remembered the brief altercation. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Grender was mouthing off on the sponson while we were in port. He was supposed to be working. I told him to shut up. He swung at me and missed. I hit him in the jaw with a left and he went down to the deck. From there he kicked at me like a baby while he screamed in pain. Byrnes told him to get up and go sweep the hangar deck. But he never mouthed off at me again.”
“I remember,” Maxwell said.
“Can you tell me anything else about Jimmy that took place before I joined Oriskany in P.I., Max?” Wolfe almost called his ex-shipmate Sluggo.
“To be honest, Boot, er, Doc, I never think about the man. After he committed suicide, I spent a long time asking myself if the friction between us had contributed to his state of mind. Still can’t say. The memories are painful, so I avoid them. Didn’t like him, but he obviously had some deep psychological problems. No one should commit suicide, not even an asshole like him.”
CHAPTER 9
“Doc! Doc!” Wolfe heard the high-pitched squeal of a little girl’s voice behind him. Turning his head, he spotted a tiny tow-headed kindergartener racing down the frozen food aisle toward him, arms open wide. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his leg. Barely as tall as the middle of his thigh she shrieked again, “Doc!”
“Lillian, Lillian!” an older woman spouted, as she chased after the child. “Sorry,” she said when she reached Wolfe. “I don’t know what got into my granddaughter. Say you’re sorry to the man, Lillian. We have shopping to do.”
Mournful eyes locked on Wolfe’s, pleading. Lillian resisted the pull of her grandmother. “But, Doc,” the child said.
Wolfe laughed and patted the girl on her head. He said, “It’s okay. I’m one of the reading tutors at Ketterlinus Elementary.” Unwrapping Lillian’s arms from his leg, he knelt and placed his right arm all the way around the child. She smelled of a fresh bath and shampoo. “Are you practicing your reading this summer? You want to be ready for first grade in the fall, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Lillian replied. “Grandma and I read the funnies in the paper every day after Mom drops me off at her house. And she takes me to the library every week.”
“Oh,” the older woman said, hand to her mouth, “You’re that Doc. She talks about you all the time.” A crooked smile spread across her face and her chest puffed out with pride. “Lillian is reading third grade books from the library now, aren’t you Lillian? Why do the kids call you Doc?”
“Well, I’m a retired physician,” Wolfe explained. “I didn’t want them to have to call me Dr. Wolfe. And the teachers didn’t want them to call me Addison. It was a compromise, I guess.” He stood. “High five,” he said to the child.
She wound up as if she threw pitches for the Atlanta Braves and slapped Wolfe’s hand with a loud smack.
“Don’t do martial arts any more,” Maxwell said. “I have an ex-cop on payroll for the heavy work. You did some boxing, too, if I remember.”
Wolfe thought for a minute. “Yeah. I suspect it was right after I joined the ship. You guys were practicing and I went a round or two with Saulson.”
“Gave him a black eye, too,” Maxwell said.
“That was an accident,” Wolfe said. “He didn’t block an easy jab. My being left-handed gave him fits.”
“Didn’t you have a fight with Grender, too?”
Again, Wolfe had to pause and search his memory. He chuckled when he remembered the brief altercation. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Grender was mouthing off on the sponson while we were in port. He was supposed to be working. I told him to shut up. He swung at me and missed. I hit him in the jaw with a left and he went down to the deck. From there he kicked at me like a baby while he screamed in pain. Byrnes told him to get up and go sweep the hangar deck. But he never mouthed off at me again.”
“I remember,” Maxwell said.
“Can you tell me anything else about Jimmy that took place before I joined Oriskany in P.I., Max?” Wolfe almost called his ex-shipmate Sluggo.
“To be honest, Boot, er, Doc, I never think about the man. After he committed suicide, I spent a long time asking myself if the friction between us had contributed to his state of mind. Still can’t say. The memories are painful, so I avoid them. Didn’t like him, but he obviously had some deep psychological problems. No one should commit suicide, not even an asshole like him.”
CHAPTER 9
“Doc! Doc!” Wolfe heard the high-pitched squeal of a little girl’s voice behind him. Turning his head, he spotted a tiny tow-headed kindergartener racing down the frozen food aisle toward him, arms open wide. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his leg. Barely as tall as the middle of his thigh she shrieked again, “Doc!”
“Lillian, Lillian!” an older woman spouted, as she chased after the child. “Sorry,” she said when she reached Wolfe. “I don’t know what got into my granddaughter. Say you’re sorry to the man, Lillian. We have shopping to do.”
Mournful eyes locked on Wolfe’s, pleading. Lillian resisted the pull of her grandmother. “But, Doc,” the child said.
Wolfe laughed and patted the girl on her head. He said, “It’s okay. I’m one of the reading tutors at Ketterlinus Elementary.” Unwrapping Lillian’s arms from his leg, he knelt and placed his right arm all the way around the child. She smelled of a fresh bath and shampoo. “Are you practicing your reading this summer? You want to be ready for first grade in the fall, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Lillian replied. “Grandma and I read the funnies in the paper every day after Mom drops me off at her house. And she takes me to the library every week.”
“Oh,” the older woman said, hand to her mouth, “You’re that Doc. She talks about you all the time.” A crooked smile spread across her face and her chest puffed out with pride. “Lillian is reading third grade books from the library now, aren’t you Lillian? Why do the kids call you Doc?”
“Well, I’m a retired physician,” Wolfe explained. “I didn’t want them to have to call me Dr. Wolfe. And the teachers didn’t want them to call me Addison. It was a compromise, I guess.” He stood. “High five,” he said to the child.
She wound up as if she threw pitches for the Atlanta Braves and slapped Wolfe’s hand with a loud smack.
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