cents.”
“We might just do that,” Ellie said with a forced smile.
“You can’t knock out a tank with a machine gun,” Roebuck said tightly. “But it was all I had. Shells were whistling over my head and dirt was kicking up all around me. I kept firing, and I held back the tank long enough for the rest of the men to come up and knock it out with a bazooka.”
“Fifty cents ain’t much,” the fat man said loudly. “Not these days.”
Roebuck turned in his seat and looked at him intensely with pure hate. “No,” he said slowly, with finality, “not much at all.” He continued to stare at the fat man until the man turned his back and began scraping the grill.
“Then all hell broke loose,” Roebuck said, looking again at Ellie. “There were krauts everywhere. We had to fall back to where we’d been dug in and make a stand. A man named Ingrahm, one of my best friends, was hit in the head and fell next to me. I grabbed him under the arms and dragged him back with me. We passed another man, named Ben Gipp. Private Gipp had been hit and was on his back, pleading with me to take him because he couldn’t move. But hell, Ingrahm couldn’t move either. He was unconscious, and I already had him so I kept dragging him right on past Gipp through that hail of bullets to the cover of the drainage ditch.
“The Germans pinned us down there, and they used Gipp for bait. He kept calling to us to help him, but there was no way. I called the colonel on the walkie-talkie, and he ordered us to leave Gipp to be taken prisoner if we had to.
“We stayed there until nightfall, then I pulled the men out under cover of darkness. That was the last I saw of Private Gipp for the rest of the war.” Roebuck frowned. “It was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”
“You folks like Otis Birdly?” The fat man behind the counter turned a radio on very loud to some twanging country music. “He’s better than them Rollin’ Rocks!”
“Ingrahm survived,” Roebuck persisted in a slightly louder voice, “but the doctors had to put a plate in his head.”
Tires squealed outside and Roebuck jumped and looked out the window. It wasn’t a police car, but two girls in a red convertible speeding out of the closed and abandoned gas station across the highway.
His jaw quaking, Roebuck glared at the fat man. “Why don’t you turn that damn radio off?”
The fat man did, then very slowly he untied the strings of his white apron and started to come out from behind the counter.
Ellie touched the back of Roebuck’s hand. “We can’t have trouble that might bring the police, Lou,” she said softly.
Trouble was the last thing Roebuck wanted as he saw the huge bulk of the man approach them. He was one of those sharp-eyed fat men whom Roebuck instinctively disliked and feared. How could you not fear such hunger peering at you from the folds of such mountainous fat?
“The roast beef wasn’t tender enough for you?” the fat man asked menacingly, hovering over Roebuck.
Roebuck swallowed, aware of Ellie watching him. By God, he wouldn’t let himself be bluffed out!
“Couldn’t stick a fork in the gravy,” he said with a quaver in his voice.
The fat man backed up a step. “You ain’t talkin’ to no short-order cook,” he said. “You’re talkin’ to the owner of this place.”
Roebuck waited for him to say more, but he obviously wasn’t going to.
“So?” Roebuck said.
“So I’m tellin’ you to get out of here, and that’ll be three ten for the specials.”
Roebuck tried to finish his coffee slowly and deliberately, but his hand trembled and some of the warm liquid spilled onto his shirt front. He and Ellie stood and he placed three one-dollar bills and a dime on the table.
“I hope you didn’t expect a tip,” he said sharply as they walked out.
They got into the car and Roebuck started the engine. “Hah!” he said. “He forgot to charge us for the coffee.”
Ellie glanced toward the diner.
“We might just do that,” Ellie said with a forced smile.
“You can’t knock out a tank with a machine gun,” Roebuck said tightly. “But it was all I had. Shells were whistling over my head and dirt was kicking up all around me. I kept firing, and I held back the tank long enough for the rest of the men to come up and knock it out with a bazooka.”
“Fifty cents ain’t much,” the fat man said loudly. “Not these days.”
Roebuck turned in his seat and looked at him intensely with pure hate. “No,” he said slowly, with finality, “not much at all.” He continued to stare at the fat man until the man turned his back and began scraping the grill.
“Then all hell broke loose,” Roebuck said, looking again at Ellie. “There were krauts everywhere. We had to fall back to where we’d been dug in and make a stand. A man named Ingrahm, one of my best friends, was hit in the head and fell next to me. I grabbed him under the arms and dragged him back with me. We passed another man, named Ben Gipp. Private Gipp had been hit and was on his back, pleading with me to take him because he couldn’t move. But hell, Ingrahm couldn’t move either. He was unconscious, and I already had him so I kept dragging him right on past Gipp through that hail of bullets to the cover of the drainage ditch.
“The Germans pinned us down there, and they used Gipp for bait. He kept calling to us to help him, but there was no way. I called the colonel on the walkie-talkie, and he ordered us to leave Gipp to be taken prisoner if we had to.
“We stayed there until nightfall, then I pulled the men out under cover of darkness. That was the last I saw of Private Gipp for the rest of the war.” Roebuck frowned. “It was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”
“You folks like Otis Birdly?” The fat man behind the counter turned a radio on very loud to some twanging country music. “He’s better than them Rollin’ Rocks!”
“Ingrahm survived,” Roebuck persisted in a slightly louder voice, “but the doctors had to put a plate in his head.”
Tires squealed outside and Roebuck jumped and looked out the window. It wasn’t a police car, but two girls in a red convertible speeding out of the closed and abandoned gas station across the highway.
His jaw quaking, Roebuck glared at the fat man. “Why don’t you turn that damn radio off?”
The fat man did, then very slowly he untied the strings of his white apron and started to come out from behind the counter.
Ellie touched the back of Roebuck’s hand. “We can’t have trouble that might bring the police, Lou,” she said softly.
Trouble was the last thing Roebuck wanted as he saw the huge bulk of the man approach them. He was one of those sharp-eyed fat men whom Roebuck instinctively disliked and feared. How could you not fear such hunger peering at you from the folds of such mountainous fat?
“The roast beef wasn’t tender enough for you?” the fat man asked menacingly, hovering over Roebuck.
Roebuck swallowed, aware of Ellie watching him. By God, he wouldn’t let himself be bluffed out!
“Couldn’t stick a fork in the gravy,” he said with a quaver in his voice.
The fat man backed up a step. “You ain’t talkin’ to no short-order cook,” he said. “You’re talkin’ to the owner of this place.”
Roebuck waited for him to say more, but he obviously wasn’t going to.
“So?” Roebuck said.
“So I’m tellin’ you to get out of here, and that’ll be three ten for the specials.”
Roebuck tried to finish his coffee slowly and deliberately, but his hand trembled and some of the warm liquid spilled onto his shirt front. He and Ellie stood and he placed three one-dollar bills and a dime on the table.
“I hope you didn’t expect a tip,” he said sharply as they walked out.
They got into the car and Roebuck started the engine. “Hah!” he said. “He forgot to charge us for the coffee.”
Ellie glanced toward the diner.
Similar Books
