A New Road To Woodstock '69

Snippet  14

Woodstock: The iconic American rock festival of the twentieth century

A Untold, ‘ Semi-Fictional’ Rendition

by

Mark M. Lichterman

Copyright © Mark M. Lichterman March 1, 2023

Authors Notation: Other than those that were actually a participating member or members of the Woodstock Festival, all others are fictitious characters and situations created for dramatic effect, and especially at this author’s whim.

Further Notation: I have no intention of repeating my nineteen part Woodstock series as first submitted on Tuesday, July 26, 2022, but  digging further into the earlier lives of Sharon and Clyde and her Polish immigrant parents: 'Murray and Sarah Kandinsky and his Irish immigrant parents, Malcolm and Ellen Murphy.
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Chapter Twenty-one

Malcolm’s War Effort

Loveland, Ohio

12/9/41

2:56

The olive green troop carrier pulling from the curb as, Thomas,
opening the door toe Elsa, “Didn’t know if we’d be opened today.”

“Didn’t know what else to do…” Sarah said “... so figured— until we’re told to do something else, thought it best if we just do what we always do.”

Thomas, cocking his head to the now empty space before Pink’s. “What the Army want?”

“We, you and me, I guess” gesturing to Elsa “...just went into the manufacturing fatigue caps business.”

Noting the movement and replacement of the hardware bins and shelves.

“What’s all that stuff?”

“Material for the hats, and the machine… if you want to call it a machine, to make the caps. And that’s not all…” motioning for Elsa to follow— which both her and Thomas did “...we also got us two U.S. Army sewing machines.”

“Along with little space to work in.”

“Well, Murray, we said we wanted to find something to help out with…” Ella said “...so guess this is it.”

“If we thought we’d be open today, Tom and me would have been here sooner.”

“Elsa and I thought it might be a good idea to go to church today…”

The telephone ringing.

Returning to the front counter, catching the phone on the third ring. “Pink’s! Good afternoon.”

“ ‘Afternoon…” the voice on the other end of the telephone said “… Captain McLaughlin here. If he’s about, might I speak to “Malcolm Murphy?”

“Yes…” Sarah answered, no less bewildered by this call to Malcolm than she was when Corporal Tanner asked for Ellen. “...he’s here someplace. Hold on, will you.”

“Lester, where’s Malcolm?”

“With an auto customer in the back.”

Realizing she hadn’t heard from either Sharon or Clyde since the soldiers came in. “Kids with him?”

Looking about. “Think so.”

“Hope so! Get him, will you? Tell him he’s got a call, then, if they’re not with him, see if you can find the kids.”

“You still there, Captain?”

“Yes Ma’am. Still here.”

“Sent someone to get him, should be here in a minute.”

Everyone still attempting a show of cordiality while well ‘remembering Pearl Harbor’.

“The kids you’re looking for? How old?”

“Five and three... ‘Almost’ five and three.”

Laughing. “So how much trouble can five and three year old kids get into in a hardware store?”

“Oh, my God, Captain, I don’t even want to guess… Oh, here’s Malcolm.” Handing him the receiver.

“Hello. How can I help you?”

“Malcolm Murphy?”

“Yes.”

“Captain McLaughlin here; Cincinnati National Guard.”

Looking questioningly at the telephone, then to his wife. “Yes, Sir. How can I help you.”

“Hear you’re a pretty good auto mechanic.”

“Like to think I am.”

Out of the blue: “How long you been in America?”

Reluctant to say anything that might link him to the murder of the British soldier. Hesitantly: “About six years now.”

“I ask, because the military isn’t sure if Ireland will be on our side, or with the Krauts against Great Britain, so orders are coming down that, at least for now, not to allow any Irishman to enlist.”

“So you know, I love this country, I do! But haven’t even given a thought about enlisting.”

“I was told you want to help.”

“Yeah, I do! Any way I can.”

If Malcolm were ‘any’ type of a mechanic, McLaughlin knows the answer. “You familiar with Ford engines?”

Thinking this an extremely stupid question. “Yeah...” belligerently “...’of course I am’!”

“Ever hear of the ‘Willy’s Jeep’?”

The question throwing him a moment. Yes, of course Malcolm had heard of ‘Willy’s Jeep’. But had never even seen one, let alone work on one.

“Said to have Ford parts, so I’m rather sure I’d be familiar enough with one.”

Another out of the blue question: “Think you can run a motor pool with some eighteen year old kids?”

Having no idea where this was going, but…” Got two sixteen year old high school boys— learning as they go, helping me along now.”

“ Loveland?” You’re in Loveland, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re about sixteen miles south of Cincinnati; think you can make it here by, oh say… Better yet! If I send a car to get you, any reason why you couldn’t make it her tomorrow morning by 0;630?”

“To Cincinnati? Yeah, sure! No reason I couldn’t get there tomorrow morning. Question is, though, Where would I be going to in Cincinnati at six thirty?””

“Cincinnati National Guard Armory.”

Holding a hand over the telephone receiver, whispering, “They want me.”

“The Army?” Murray asked.

Nodding. “Yeah.”

“What for?”

Still whispering. “Has something to do with…” No longer whispering. “You say you’ll have someone pick me up tomorrow morning at…”

“ ‘0:615’. Be waiting at your store, and he’ll be there at six-fifteen.”

“Okay…” Malcolm said “...I’ll be here.”

With not another word, the connection broken.

And immediately thereafter...

3:12 PM

Looking at the now silent telephone, then handing it to Sarah, as…

Rolling her eyes. “Yes, uh… ‘Pink’s.’!”

“Sarah…”

Immediately recognizing the voice of the bankers wife... “Beatrice, hello.”

“I’ve been calling around to all our businesses to tell you…” ‘Loveland's

Business Men’s Association’ president, said “… until we receive other

orders, we’re all to just go about our business as normally as possible.”

Not particularly liking this woman, thinking, You’re calling about to tell people to do what they’re already doing because… “What else can we do, Beatrice?” she asked.

“I saw that army trick n front of your place this afternoon, so know that they’ve already spoke to Ellen, and that they’d called Malcolm for something. So thought I’d tell you what I’d told everyone else…”

Thinking, How does Mrs Phillamarlarky know they were because of Ellen, and that they’d called Malcolm? “What is that, that you’d told everyone else, Beatrice?”

Catching Sarah’s sarcastic tone. “Uh, that you should do what you always do.”

Oh, yeah, Loretta!

People at Pink’’s always do what we always do… Bye!” Breaking the connection not too gently.

3:26 PM

Apparently Loretta’s word of mouth getting around, as two of Lovelands elderly women, coming into the store asked Ellen ‘if there was any way they might help’?’

“Not too sure how to do it myself.” Ellen said, taking both by their elbows, turning them towards what used to be ‘ Ellen’s Hat Boutique’— with Elsa close behind— while asking, “You ladies know how to cut and sew?”

“Do I know how to sew…” the older of the two said “...pl-’ease!”

3:40 PM

The sky growing darker second by second, snow now falling.

The door opening again. “Murray…” the man said “...I need a…”

12/9/41

5:32 PM

So passed America’s second day of war, with Americans mostly going about their business, doing as Americans do.

12/9/41

7:03 PM

“To the young people of the nation…” Eleanor Roosevelt speaking on her nightly broadcast “...I must speak a word tonight. You are going to have a great opportunity. There will be high moments in which your strength and your ability will be tested. I have faith in you. I feel as though I was standing upon a rock and that rock is my faith in my fellow citizens.

To the women of America!

To the women of America and the mothers ad wives and those left behind, your strength is needed. The pioneering spirit America’s women that crossed this country in covered wagons and fought alongside your men.

To the women of America, your strength and resolve is once again to be tested as our factories gear up for the production of war, with the strength of America’s men no longer preforming that which is needed for our factories production for war.

To the women of America. To the mothers and wives and those left behind, your nation calls upon you to stand where the work force of this great nation, where America’s men stood today. Your nation calls upon you to stand tomorrow, where your men had stood today.”

So was born the iconic poster of America’s war time women:, red kerchief sweat band about her forehead. Sleeve rolled, fist clenched, arm cocked showing anything but a typical feminine muscle. Lettering above her head stating, “We Can Do It!” So then, millions plastered on walls throughout the United States of America…

‘Rosie The Riveter’ was born.

12/10/41

6:17 AM

Temperature at seven above zero. No longer snowing, a frigid wind, blowing loose snow into drifting banks along the curb.

Waiting since, 6: 12. Coat collar upturned. Stamping his feet and blowing into his hands for warmth, to the west, along Main Street Malcolm catches sight of an approaching automobile. Stepping from the sidewalk, watching as the khaki colored ‘35 Chevrolet Coup, with the white star and U.S. Army logo comes to as stop.

Reaching across the seat, pulling the handle to open the door. “Mister Murphy?”

Slipping inside, “Yes.” sitting, pulling the door shut. Stupid… Malcolm thought ...who else would be out at six fooking’ o’clock freezing his ass off!

The soldier, wearing fatigues and a U.S. Army issue winter coat; shifting into first...“I’m Corporal Tanner.” making a sharp ‘U’… shifting into second thin third, the Chevie returned to the direction from which it had come.

The wheezing heater throwing of just enough...barely enough heat to thaw Malcolm’s feet.

“You’re the man that set up that stupid hat making machine for my wife.”

Glancing at Malcolm, “Ellen, uh, Mrs Murphy— sorry, didn’t make the connection. She’s your wife?”

Blowing I his hands. “Yes.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, your wife, she is one beautiful woman!”

“Thank’s!” Warming both his hands and attitude. “Me and my boy sure think so.”

“Your boy… Clyde?”’

“Yeah.”

“Met your Clyde. He is going to be ‘some’ hand full!”

Chuckling. “What do you mean, ‘going to be’?”

Too early for the county snow plow, cautiously driving at a safe speed.

Tapping the heater vent with his toe. “Can’t get any more heat out of that thing?”

“Nah. Maybe while your here…”

“Why am I going to be, ‘here’?”

“Captain didn’t tell you?”

“Said something about a motor pool, and a few guys to train. But been wondering, if this is the army, why’d they need me? Why don’t the army got their own guys?”

“Can’t say… You know, it’s kind of a ‘loose lips sink ships’, kind of a thing.”

Thinking, What’s that mean? Asking; “What’s your first name. Corporal?”

A quickly moving produce truck in the opposite going lane, rocking the small Chevie. Slowing, “Adam.”

“Where you from, Adam?”

“Originally Detroit, but have been living in Cincinnati for twelve years now.”

“You full time Army?”

“Nah! Been National Guard for five years now.” Speeding up a bit. “Actually I’m a teacher.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Third grade.”

Rounding a bend in the road, the muted early morning lights of Cincinnati defusing the dawning day.

“Malcolm… Okay to call you ‘Malcolm’?”

“Sure, that’s my name.”

“Not letting any ‘cats out of the bag’, but I know a couple of the guys you’ll be working with…” taking a right turn off the highway”...and they’re really pricks, so don’t take any shit from them!”

Five minutes of early morning city driving through the city of Cincinnati bringing Chevrolet to the yellow brick building housing the armory and the 23rd Infantry Division covered a full quarter-block on the southwest corner of Fifth and Ardmore Streets.

Taking a left onto Armored, the Chevy enters a lower level driveway leading into a parking area containing a large mix of both civilian and U.S. Army marked automobiles.

Steering into an assigned area, shutting the engine. Pointing to a staircase. “First floor, take a left and McLaughlin’s office is second on the left.”

6:52 AM

Stepping out, then leaning into the car, hand extended. “Thank’s, Adam!” Malcolm said. “Will I be seeing you again?”

“Probably not.” Taking Malcolm’s hand, shaking it. “Hell, who knows. Anyway, best of luck Malcolm.”

“You, too, Adam.”

Unbuttoning his coat as he goes up the stairs, turning to the left to the second office. The door partially open, Malcolm knocked on the door fame.

“Come on in!” Behind an extremely paper cluttered desk, a rotund, completely bald man with a thick reddish mustache stood as Malcolm came in. “Mister Murphy.” Not as a question, but more so an acknowledgment.

Having no idea how to address a captain in the U.S. Army. “Yes. Sir!”

“Nah!” Arm stretched across the desk… “You don’t got to ‘Sir’ me.”...hands

shaken. “Well…” smiling “at least not yet.” Gesturing to a chair before the

desk. “Sit!” Stated as a command, taken as such, Malcolm obediently sat.

“No doubt wondering why the big rush to get you here at, uh…” glancing at

a clock on the desk “...Oh-six-fifty-eight.”

“Yes, uh…”

“Mac… The guys call me ‘Mac’. Anyway, before this thing started with those fucking Japs, I was… Well, been in the Guard near fifteen years and, uh, came in with an engineering degree so, uh...” for some reason feeling a need to explain “... eventually made my way to…” tapping the double bars on the collar of his khaki jacked “...but really made my living selling cars… Cadillac, you know. So, with everything so fucked up, topsy-turvy thhy put me in charge of the car pool.”

“Because you 'used' to be a car salesman?.”

“Yeah. Thing is, Sergeant Beck... the guy that ran the car pool and kind of took care of the few vehicals we had here, put in his 'twenty'...”

“Put in his 'twenty'? ”

“Yeah. Beck put in his twenty years and took his retirement ... Fucking Japs bombed us last Sunday and Beck took his retirement last Friday and took off someplace like a big ass bird. And even when they find him and drag him back — and they sure as shit will, God only knows where they'll station him, so you see...”

Catching on. “So, I'm supposed to replace your sergeant Beck?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Getting the sense that he was being 'pressed' into the U.S. Army. “ What's that meah: 'something like that'?”

"I was told you want to serve your new country. Right?"

"Yeah!" Loretta! "Of course, I do!"

"Okay. Good! And that you'd be exempt from enlistment because you're Irish and they don't know which way Ireland will be going."

"Okay..." Malcolm said "...what are we talking about here?"

"Better yet..." motioning "... come on, I'll show you."

Walking alongside McLaughlin towards a doorway on the far side of this long hall. "Even during normal times, and now sure as hell isn't what anyone cauld call 'normal times', there are snaffoa  and  general, all around 'fuck ups' but this one's a doozy."

Coming to the doorway, now following McLaughlin down two flights of stairs. Before opening the sub-ground door. "Remember I told you I've a couple of guys that want to learn about auto repair, so they'll be yours until you're finished with them..." adding quietly "...wherever we are."

Opening the heavy steel door, Malcolm followed McLaughlin into what he could sense to be a vast darkness until hearing the 'click' of one – two - three switches illumining the darkness with twelve, twenty-four, thirty-six banks of blue-white floreescent light where— in rows of five each— there were ten rows of, appearing to be straight from the factory, 'Willy’s Jeeps'.

"If you're wondering..." McLaughlin said "...there's fifty of them, all needing, uh, I'd guess, just about everything'!"

"How'd they get here, and why so many?"

"By train, by truck and manpower. We were due five, but like I said, the Army fucked up and now they want all fifty in running condition by the twentieth 'cause that's when we're all shipping out to..." pointing to a 'Loose Lips Sink Ships' poster.

"How am I supposed to do this in, uh, ten days?"

We've no sleeping or chow quarters here, so we'll give you the Chevie you got here in to goh home and be back here by 'oh-seven' the next morning."

"The guys I'll be working with, what do they know about this kind of stuff?"

"Couple of smart-ass punks having jalopies of their own that became 'buck privates' soon as those Fucking Japs dropped the first bomb. So that's why I'm making a 'Field enlistment' giving you the rank of Sergeant."

Incredulity asked: "You can do this?"

"Don't fucking know..." Captain McLaughlin said "...but fucking am!"

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                                                    Chapter Twenty-Two