Read Online Aim by Joyce Moyer Hostetter - Free Book Online

later, I started out the door with her pushing my arms into my jacket sleeves. “I’m sorry, son,” she said. “I don’t mean to weigh you down. But there’s work to be done and your pop isn’t here to do it.”
    There was a bitterness to the way she said your pop . I had this feeling she wasn’t claiming him just then. That somehow I deserved all the work he went off and left for me to pick up. Maybe it was true. Because, as far as I could remember, he never drank before my eleventh birthday. It must have been my fault he started drinking.
    Momma handed me my lunch bag and then my books, and when she did, a tear splashed onto my hand. “Go on,” she said, “before you miss your bus.”

13
WAR MANEUVERS
    November 1941
    I was sound asleep when all of a sudden I heard a commotion under the house. Jesse and Butch were making the awfullest racket, which meant someone had to be coming in on our property.
    â€œTell them dogs to shut up!” yelled Granddaddy.
    I sat up and saluted in his direction. “Yes, sir!” I reached for my overalls and pulled them on over my long handles. After stuffing my feet into my shoes, I headed for the living room and looked out the window. I couldn’t see much for all the cedar trees between our house and the road, but I saw movement out there, and I declare, from all the vehicle noises it sounded like the United States Army was moving in.
    Jesse and Butch were by the cedars, fixing to bark their own ears off. I headed out there, hollering for them to hush, but they didn’t pay me any mind. They probably didn’t hear me for all the noise.
    When I rounded the bend by the cedars I almost fell over. Going right past our yard was one army jeepafter another. And not just jeeps but tanks and even motorcycles. It was like the war had come right there to our front yard.
    The soldiers riding by were grinning. Some of them, anyway. Others looked serious as a storm. One saluted as he rattled past on an army tank. Another laughed and elbowed his buddy. They lifted their caps and ran their fingers through their hair, and I realized they were poking fun at me. I must have looked a sight with my hair going every which way and my eyes barely open.
    I wondered if I was even awake. Maybe I was dreaming. Because what in the world were soldiers doing here, heading toward Bakers Mountain?
    Right behind me I heard a voice. Granddaddy’s voice. And boy did he sound happy. “Yee haw! The United States Army has come to town.”
    The old man had barely left the house since he moved in. And now, there he was standing by the road, straight as a light pole with his hand at his forehead, saluting. He had his right stub over his heart.
    A soldier jumped off one of the tanks and ran up to Granddaddy. “Sir,” he said, “I should be saluting you. I believe you served in the Great War.” His eyes fastened on Granddaddy’s stub.
    Something happened to Granddaddy’s face then. It went from being serious and proud to just kind of slack and sad. But only for a second, until he caught himself. Then he cussed and shook the soldier off. His armsdropped to his sides, and he turned and stalked back toward the house.
    The soldier looked confused. “I offended him. I didn’t intend to. I wanted to thank him.”
    â€œNever mind him,” I said. “He’s cantankerous that way. What’s happening? Am I dreaming?”
    The soldier laughed. “Having a nightmare, more likely. We’re practicing for war. Didn’t you hear? Someone should have informed you the army was moving in.” He nodded toward Bakers Mountain. “Looks like you and me’ll be neighbors for a few days.” He offered his hand. “Private Frank Jenkins. Call me Frank.”
    â€œYes, sir. I’m Junior. Bledsoe. We’re mighty proud to have you, sir. Are you really practicing for war?”
    He nodded. “I’m on