CHAPTER 19Mannheim, Germany, January 1949
OZZIE
Ozzie woke up on his twin bed, unclear how he got there. The last thing he remembered was ordering a bottle of bourbon. His head was so heavy he could barely lift it. Was it the cold? When he tried to open his eyes, the light was blinding bright, so he closed them. He moved his tongue around his mouth, which felt dry as cotton and his throat scratchy. Even though it hurt to move, he needed to pee. Ozzie rose up on his elbows and saw that he was still fully dressed, right down to his boots. When he stood, the room swirled like a toy spinning top. As he shuffled to the toilet, pops of memory from the previous night ping-ponged through his head. Drinks straight with no chaser, Chicago blues, Jelka.
Jelka was pregnant with his child. Ozzie had been in Germany for less than six months, and already he had managed to upend his life. The staunch warning from his mother echoed in his ears:That liquor gon’ be the death of you, son. You mark my words.He aimed his pungent stream into the urinal and peed long and hard, the alcohol sweating from his pores. Unsteadily, he swayed and held on to the urinal with both hands until the feeling of nausea passed. Damn. Fuck. Shit.
“Philips, what the hell?” called a voice.
Ozzie zipped his pants and erected his shoulders to attention and realized it was only Morgan.
“Bro. You’re fifteen minutes late. I woke you up an hour ago. Petty is calling you everything but a child of God. You better hurry to your post.”
Taking time only to brush his teeth, put on his sunglasses, and slug down some water from his canteen, Ozzie hoofed it the ten-minute walk over to the motor pool. The other men assigned to the same fleet of vehicles were already buzzing around in motion. He had never reported to duty late, and he kicked himself for oversleeping. When Morgan spied him coming through the fence, he tossed him a rag and pointed to a spray bottle with vinegar hanging from the side of a bucket. Ozzie tried to slip inside one of the trucks without being seen, but before he could fit his body in the front seat, he heard his name.
“Philips!” roared First Sergeant Petty.
Standing against the jeep, Ozzie dropped his cleaning props, doing his best not to rock. Petty took one look at him and then ripped him open with a slew of F-you this and that while a shower of spit flew from his lips.
“From this moment forward, when I say jump, you say how high. Is that understood?” Sweat dotted Petty’s forehead.
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“I don’t need this extra bullshit from you. I have a lot on my plate. You have a job to do, and I expect you to do it.” Petty sniffed. “And you smell like a distillery. Rough night?”
Ozzie didn’t respond.
“I asked you a question, boy.”
Ozzie had wondered how long it would take Petty to go for the jugular. The moment had arrived. A white man only a few years older than he was had called him a boy.
Ozzie took his time answering. Slow but deliberate. “No, I didn’t have a rough night.”
“Remove those sunglasses when I’m speaking to you, boy.”
Ozzie clenched his teeth. Reached for his sunglasses and looked Petty dead in the eye.
“You didn’t have a rough night, what?” Petty yelled; sweat now poured from his face. He was getting off on this show of power. The whole motor pool was watching the interaction. “Answer me.”
Ozzie kept eye contact while forcing the words out. “First Sergeant.”
“Well, since you don’t know how to answer your company first sergeant with respect, can’t get to work on time, and don’t know how to enjoy your Friday evenings without disgracing yourself and the United States Army, you are forbidden to leave this base until I give you the all-clear. Understood?”
Ozzie flinched. “Yes, First Sergeant.”
“Dismissed.”
Ozzie picked up his rag and spray bottle and climbed inside the truck. By late afternoon, he’d cleaned the inside of a dozen trucks, taken them to the gas station to be refueled, organized the storage units for the vehicles, and checked inventory. The steady physical work had helped him to shake off his hangover, but he thought constantly about Jelka, the baby, and his new confined predicament on base. He ate half a sandwich and carried the other half back to the barracks.
When he reached the common area, there was a circle of men standing around the mail carrier, who wore a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. The men were eager, hoping that their name would be called, signaling that they’d received a box filled with sugary treats or a steamy love letter from a girl back home. Ozzie sat on the edge of the sofa and tipped his canteen to his lips. The cool water felt good going down his throat, and he wondered what he was supposed to do on the weekends when he’d be confined to base.
“Philips,” the mail carrier sang, and held up a letter. “Oh, and itsmells delightful too.” He waved the envelope in the air, teasing Ozzie, which elicited chuckles from the other men.
Ozzie reached for the letter and carried it down the hall to his room. It was from Rita. It was only the second letter he had received from her, and he smelled her honeyed scent before he saw her beautiful cursive on the envelope. His heart sped up as his fingers went underneath the seal and broke it. She had written the letter on cream-colored stationery.
Dearest Ozzie,
How is Germany treating you? Life at Lincoln is decent. My classes are hard, but I really lucked out with my roommate. Her name is Frances, she’s from Harrisburg and has been a godsend. She’s both smart and sweet. We’ve decorated our room in pink and white but no matter what they promise us, the temperature is never right, and I often wake up freezing or sweating my hair out. I do have an amazing political science professor who has really been pushing me to think outside of the box. He calls me Miss Attorney in class. It really makes me feel like I can do anything, but the sad fact is that I’m already short on my tuition for the spring semester. I hate to ask you, and I am not trying to take advantage of our friendship. Please know that if I had any other options, I wouldn’t. Do you think you could wire me thirty-five dollars? I know that’s a lot but it’s the remainder of what I need. Without it, I’ll have to sit my second semester out and I really don’t want to fall behind. Please consider it.
