Two boys were best friends and ‘co-conspirators in crime’ -- all the way from elementary classes through high school during the 1950’s. Gary and Mike did all the usual ornery, adventurous things that small- town Texas kids do -- like the Halloween night they decided to climb the town's water tower.
Well, the adventure continued. The two friends married two girls who were also lifetime friends. The guys joined the military, went to flight school and happily met up again in Korea. Shortly thereafter, they were relieved to see the conflict ended and looked forward to sharing some less-dangerous adventures.
Stationed near Seoul, late one night the two deployed soldiers walked back to base from leave. Navigating off the main path to ‘see a man about a dog’, they discovered an old cemetery nearly overgrown with riotous vegetation. It was again a Halloween night, sporting a rare, eerie-looking, blood-red moon. So, true to their characteristic abandonment of reason, they jokingly staggered around, playing like zombies, finally collapsing down in the soft grass, next to some of the barely-visible graves.
Mike leaned his head against an intriguing headstone and began conversing to the unknown inscribed name: “Well, fella, what brought you here? Tell me all about it.”
Gary laughed: “You are still crazy, man.”
The pleasant night’s adventure soon inspired reminiscing about their childhood days and pranks together. “Remember that Halloween in high school; how we breached the fence around the water tower, then pulled down that ladder access to the top?”
“Yeah, that was a night!”
“Sure scared the be-geebers outta those kids!”
Ω
For weeks, Gary and Mike planned to scale the forbidden water tower. What better way to get a view of all the unsuspecting little Trick-or-Treaters below? They envisioned methods of making Halloween a bit more exciting for some of the younger revelers. They’d heard that some of the younger kids were also planning to climb it, so Gary and Mike had quickly devised a plan to pre-empt the youngsters’ activity. They found a ball about the right size and painted it so that it appeared to be an old skull. Sure enough, when they walked within a block of the tower, they spotted a group of younger ‘criminals’ about to climb up. Pulling a discarded old, white sheet from a nearby trash can, they’d torn it into two pieces and cut openings for their eyes. Draping the sheets over their heads and sneaking up behind the unsuspecting boys, Gary and Mike suddenly ran toward them, howling like banshees and waving the ‘skull.’ Frightened, the screaming younger boys scattered rapidly. But one little fella was so terrified; he tripped over his costume and fell. The boy managed to get to his feet, but when Mike, howling maniacally, was about to ‘pounce’ upon him, the frightened little goblin froze, peeing his pants. Mike began laughing and crying so hard, he fell to the ground himself, so the boy escaped his grasp, unmolested. His candy sack, however, lay forgotten on the ground. Laughing hysterically, the two friends undertook the climb themselves, managed a perch at the top of the tower and caught their breaths. The view was splendid. Lights twinkled from the houses. They stretched out as much as possible on the short space, languishing beneath the cool, star-lit sky.
Mike asked: “Do you know who that kid was – that dropped his candy?”
”Nope, guess we’ll have to enjoy it since we can’t give it back to him.”
“Oh, that’s just too bad, ain’t it?”
In a short while: Uh oh! A police car slowly circled, then stopped and shined a light around. Had someone ratted them out and called the law? The boys sat as still as they could muster, very tense and quiet. Jeepers! Probably karma for being so mean to the little guys! After a couple of minutes, the car drove on and they sighed in relief. After a while, they made their way down and walked on toward home. Always walked. No cars for them -- not in their family budgets. Back then it felt safe to walk around their small town at night.
Ω
“Those were the days! Remember, even at college, hitch-hiking used to be our transportation means of choice. Since none of us could afford wheels.”
“Yeah, man, those were the best times! I remember – hitchin’ home on weekends or out to the local dance hall, beer joint or drive-in movie. Of course, we couldn't actually 'drive in' because we didn't have a car. That sort of walkin' in by way of the exit road sure made it hard to bring a date.”
“Yeah, left a lot to the imagination for creating a romantic evening. Ya know, buddy, you’re cute … but ya ain’t that cute … Faye Lynn’s much nicer eye-candy!”
Both laughed at their mental pictures.
“I ‘member that other Halloween night, while hitch-hiking, a car finally stopped. And when you opened the door to get into the front seat, you stopped even though I was pushing you on. Thought to myself: ‘What’s wrong with this knucklehead? Why don’t ya get in?’ Then I looked around you, and finally saw why: the driver was pointing that pistol at us!”
“Yeah, scared the crap outta me. Now that we’ve had weapons training, guess maybe we’d be a little more used to guns! Was a good thing that after a little talk, the driver recognized us as just harmless college students. Sure glad we weren’t dressed in any weird-looking costumes. He seemed ancy enough and probably hadn’t even thought about it being Halloween night.”
“Yeah, by then I was hesitant -- even for a free ride, but after he said ‘get in, I just have to be careful who I pick up,’ I felt a little better about it. Funny, we did that all the time before, with no problems.”
Sigh: “Guess the innocent times are just a-changin’ …”
The reminiscing continued: “Ever notice that it seems we’re always getting into trouble on Halloween. What about that Halloween night at college? Remember, after that long library session, when we went by the swimming pool?”
“Oh yeah. It was locked behind that tall chain-link fence.”
Soon, they were again visiting their criminal activities of times past.
Ω
"Hey, wanna do a little skinny-dipping?”
"Sounds like an idea to me.”
The fence, again, didn't present much of a barrier. In a couple of minutes, they were over.
"Look around and make sure there's no night watchman."
Clothes were quickly thrown on the decking and in they went. It was a beautiful night with a full October moon. The swimming was like no other experience -- so smooth and relaxing. Then they heard some faint conversation. It grew louder. Did someone else have the same idea as they did? Or was it a security patrol?
"Hey, what if they spot our clothes? They'll know someone broke in here. Man, what if they take our clothes? Some scary costumes we’ll be arrested in — our birthday suits!”
“I told you this was a dumb idea."
Ω
Back to the present Halloween night – a fine time for reminiscing about earlier pranks. Laughing out loud at how they ran, buck-naked through the bushes, carrying their clothes until they could scramble into their pants, the friends pass around a bottle.
“Sure glad the Korean people are friendly to us. It’s nice, being able to walk around freely.”
“Yep, and as usual, we’re without transportation. That seems to always be our standard method of operation.” Then, suddenly: “Hey, get a look at that bronze statute!”
“Wow! Looks like … an angel. Kinda sad look on the face. And odd -- surprising in a Korean graveyard -- she doesn’t look Korean.”
“Oh yeah, but realistic. Hey … see the moisture – like tears there on her cheek. The angel is weeping.”
“Weird.”
Suddenly, their thoughts are broken by a noise, like a hoarse moan. They look around, each wondering if they actually heard something. In an instant, unexpected storm clouds swirl dizzyingly overhead, lightening creating a hot zigzag piercing the darkness of the sky. The air feels tight, as if something sucked the oxygen from it. Then … a simultaneous moan rises, like an eerie, woeful song, soon sounding of many voices. To their terrified astonishment, smoky, materializing figures, resembling ghosts, or rather -- bones, begin reassembling themselves! Terrified, the vision becomes more and more life-like. They stare, enrapt, at transparent, phantom-like … soldiers! … slowly appearing -- one by one, hovering above the graves. The flickering lights of antique lanterns weave like fireflies in the air.
“Oh my gosh!” Mike tries to move, but mysteriously falls backward.
“Is that what I think I’m seeing, or am I really that wasted?”
Gary whispers: “Nope, I see them, too. But … they’re not Korean. What kind of uniforms are those?”
“Hey, I think they’re … American! Yep, look at the insignia and the hats -- look like … whoa … Civil War vets??!”
A rag-tag Confederate army marches slowly, very slowly, toward them. The haggard men turn ninety degrees, march again, turning again. Foot soldiers, horsemen, ambulances, wagons and canons solemnly pass before the two pale, frozen friends, themselves appearing almost dead from fright. A haunting melody floats through the air, the voices blending beautifully, but jarringly. The Confederate soldiers’ pattern return them to the two friends. Closer now, Gary and Mike perceive where dark greasy stains of long-dried blood oozed from the soldiers’ wounds; where bullets grazed their heads; other gaping wounds throughout their bodies -- hearts violently pierced; some soldiers with arms or legs blown off, only stumps remaining -- those supported by rugged, hand-made crutches. Surprisingly, even with the limping action, the two friends deem the quiet precision wonderful and find the sad, determined looks on the weary faces of the young soldiers – beautifully haunting. Though scared half out of their wits, the friends are mesmerized.
A Sergeant says to “Halt!” and turns to the shivering young men: “Perhaps you can help us. We’re looking for a friend of ours, who died separated from us. We’ve been relegated to search for eternity. Can’t rest in peace until we know what happened to our brother.”
Trembling yet fascinated, the two friends finally have the presence of mind to ask for the soldier’s name.
“It’s William Jefferson Rockford. We believe he died at the battle of Gettysburg. We searched all over for him but he was lost from our infantry. Later, each of us died fighting for The Cause. We’ve found everyone else, but will be haunted until he’s reunited with our comrades.”
Gary exclaims: “Why, that’s my great-great-great-grandfather! You’ve certainly journeyed a long way! Yes, he was badly injured, and apparently managed to crawl to safety in a wooded area. Unfortunately, he died before a nearby farmer could stop his wounds from bleeding. Once identified, the farmer contacted some of our family. We’ve always wondered how the battle happened. Would you tell me about it?”
The Sergeant’s face clouds with sadness. “July 3, 1863 was a particularly hideous day. Around one o’clock in the afternoon, us Rebs opened an artillery bombardment with one-hundred and seventy-five cannons firing on the Union line. General Pickett, with a fresh division, led us in a charge on Cemetery Ridge. General Lee gave Pickett the orders to proceed, even though others cautioned against this type of attack.” He sighed. “Lee might have done better by heeding the warning. The Union Army fired on us, inflicting heavy casualties. The bloody charge failed to crack General Mead's line. We fell back, having lost nearly three-fourths of our ranks. Pickett's charge insured that the Battle of Gettysburg was just about over. Indeed, on the evening of July 4, General Lee began retreating to Virginia.”
During the narration, the two friends feel as if they are watching the doomed battle. It’s as if they are experiencing the army’s anguish.
A wraithlike tear falls from the soldier’s good eye. “Such a waste,” the sergeant moans.
Gary and Mike relax a bit. “We can’t even imagine how rough you and your friends had it. We’re sorry … for you and your loved ones.”
“Thank you for your sentiments. But more importantly, you could help, if you can tell us where I can find your grandfather.”
“He wound up in White Lawn Cemetery in Mississippi – you know it? You could find him there.”
“Yes, thank you, my friends, I believe I know it.” A slight smile briefly touches the face of the sergeant. “War is a terrible, senseless obsession. It separates families; leaves hearts in angst. But on the battlefield, there is often gallantry – even for the enemy. Perhaps now we can rest. Remember, comrads: honor them all – even these strangers who sleep here. Or those you may meet in conflict some day.”
The two young friends stand and admiringly stand at attention as the company of ghost soldiers solemnly pass. Frightened a bit still, the fascinated friends watch them slowly march away; wisps vanishing into the wet night.
Gary turns to his friend: “Mike, wow! How unbelievable was that?! Guess all soldiers are really brothers…?”
“Yeah. Kinda nice, ain’t it? Comfortin’.”
“We’ve had some weird Halloweens, but tonight is the absolute winner. Don’t believe I’ll ever forget this one! And, when I visit the Gettysburg National Military Park the next time, perhaps I’ll take part in that ‘Ghosts of Gettysburg’ candlelight tour.”
“Let me know when you plan to go … I’ll join you, buddy.”
