A New Road To Woodstock '69
Snippet 15
Woodstock: The iconic American ro
ck 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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216
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sergeant Murphy
Loveland, Ohio
12/11/41
4:21 AM
Speaking softly, so as not to awaken the rest of the family.
Pouring a mug of coffee for Malcolm, than one for himself. “You’re going to be regular army then?” Pulling his chair closer to the table.
“Don’t really know.” Blowing in the coffee. “Don’t really know if what the guy’s doing is even legal. But when we got back to his office, he had me hold my hand on a bible…”
“Like you were getting married?”
“Almost seemed that way. But then he said some stuff about the American Constitution and the Army and said some mambo-jumble and asked, ‘if I do…”
“Like you were getting married?”
Laughing. “Yes. Then he announced that I was in the Army of the United States of America, with the field rank of Sergeant.”
“That what you like it to be?” Murray asked.
Sipping at the hot coffee. “Whether I want to be a U.S. soldier or not?” Drinking a bit more coffee. “In the car pool, working on Jeeps.”
“Maybe even tanks.”
“Yeah, of course I hope the Captain can do like he says!”
“Daddy.” Wearing his woolly winter pajamas, Clyde scampered onto his father’s lap.
Moving the mug out of Clyde’s elbow reach. “Why you up so early my boy-O?”
“Heard you and uncle Murry talking.”
“Sorry, baby.” Urging his son’s head onto his shoulder. Taking a drink of coffee. “ ‘Tanks’? Yeah, love to see how those things run.”
Looking at his watch. “Captain wants me there early today to get me over to Cincinnati military PX to get me ‘uniform upped’, otherwise, like Mac said, those two wise-ass punks I’ll be working with wouldn’t give a damn what I say, or tell them.”
“What are you supposed to tell them…” taking a drink of coffee “... if those two guys start asking questions?”
Twisting his head to see if Clyde had fallen asleep. His head comfortably ensconced within the hollow of his father’s shoulder, the boy had.
“I thought about that, too, and asked Mac, and he said… Asked where I came from, besides Dublin? So when I told him,‘Chicago’, he said, ‘tell the punks you’re transferred from a Chicago armory, and if they want to know anymore, to tell them they’re there to work not talk, so get your fookin’ asses to work!” Smiling. “Only he didn’t say ‘fookin’.”
Laughing, “Guess not!”
4:40 AM
Glancing at his watch once again. Standing… “Guess I’d better get going.”
“Watch out for slick streets.”
Telling Murray, “I will.” Malcolm Murphy carried Clyde back to his bed.
On his way out, going into their bedroom, he stood looking at his wife a long moment. Brushing a thick wisp of red hair from Ellen’s forehead, leaning forward he kissed his wife’s forehead.
Blue eyes opening. “Off to Cincinnati? She asked sleepily.
“Yes.”
“Drive carefully.”
“Of course.”
Eyes closing, “I love you!”
“Me, too, honey. I love you, too.”
“ ‘Bye, soldier.”
0512 (5:12 AM)
McLaughlin is waiting in the enclosed armory parking area.
“Just got here myself.” Motioning Malcolm to his — not exactly U.S. army issue— white Cadillac. “Got lieutenant Baskin to open the quartermaster department for us at o-five-thirty.
0540
Returning to the Cincinnati National Guard armory, Malcolm’s civilian clothing on the rear seat of the army issued Chevrolet. Now clothed in U.S. Army issue fatigues. Shirt and jacket with sergeant chevrons.
“There you go!” McLaughlin said. “Just like a real U.S. soldier.”
“Looks okay, huh, Mac?”
Seriously spoken. “From now on it’s, ‘Mac, ‘Sir’.”
Attempting to see if the man was joking. If Captain McLaughlin was joking, Malcolm could not tell.
“Karlin and Stevens aren’t due to show till o-700… You eaten, Malcolm?”
“Just coffee.”
“We’ve a Sambo’s around the corner. You want to grab a bite.”
“Wouldn’t mind.”
5:25 AM
Over easy, with hash browns and sausage patties for Malcolm. Scrambled, with hash browns and bacon for McLaughlin. Toast and black coffee for both.
“Not going to tell you how to do it.” Cutting a slice of bacon with his fork. “But the way I see it…” eating, swallowing “...you get them two ass-holes doing all the lubing and greasing and you all the tuning.”
Careful not to break the yoke, cutting into the white... eating. “Been thinking of setting up a kind of production line with, uh…?”
Drinking coffee. “ ‘Karlin and Stevens’.”
“Yeah. Thought I’d do exactly that. Have them do the oiling and transmission lubing, and I’d follow behind getting them engines purring and tires pumped to where they should be.”
Eating a fork full of scrambled eggs… “They really fucked up, you know.” ...swallowing. “We are as far from being a mechanized unit as we could possibly be. We’re so bad that your guys will even have to hand pump those tires. ‘Oil’? ‘Grease’? Didn’t show you yesterday, but way back in that parking area there’s a storage room with about a thousand cans of motor on shelves, and bottles of oil that’s needed for the transmission and wherever special oil goes. ‘Grease’? There’s hundreds of tubes of wheel hub grease back there, too. Whatever the Army figured you’d need to get them fuckers rolling, we’ve got. ‘Gasoline’? Those jeeps were off loaded outside then hand pushed into the order they’re in, and when all fifty are ready, your guys will shove them outside to be picked up and disbursed to wherever they’re supposed to be.”
Cutting into a sausage patty, using a wedge of sausage to pierce a yoke. “Guess I’ll save our five for last.” Malcolm said, eating the yoke soaked sausage.
“You ever have your own business; I mean you ever been a ‘boss’?”
“Other than the two high school kids I’m helping train, no.”
“So…” drinking coffee “...you’re not only going to be a ‘boss’, but more importantly, their sergeant. So you don’t have to be a nice guy. They can’t quit, but do have to obey.” Looking out the window, at wind blown snow. “And maybe they’ll learn something along the way.” Captain McLaughlin added.
0705 (7:05 AM)
Sitting on the edge of a desk he’d pulled from the storage room. Standing when the two entered. “ I’m Sergeant Murphy!” Glancing at his watch.
“And when I say ‘seven’, I foo, ‘fuckin’ ’’ mean ‘seven’!”
Malcolm Murphy, though a large man, is, in all honesty, a gentle man and this facade of a time hardened sergeant does not come easily.
Pointing to one, then the other. “Who are you two clowns?”
Their own facade of street wise punks somewhat fading when faced with this six foot three, red-haired man.
“Me…” tapping his chest “...I’m Lloyd Karlin.”
Lip curled in non-obedient disgust. “I’m…” the larger of the two snarled “...Frank Stevens!”
Approaching Stevens, his forefinger jabbing into Steven’s chest. “In case you two idiots don’t know it, that first Jap bomb changed you two from half-assed, fuckin’ civilian play soldiers to real, guanine full time U.S. Army soldiers and for the next ten days your ass is mine!
Any questions?”
When neither answered… “ ‘Any questions’’?” Malcolm roared.
“No, Sarge.” Lloyd said.
“Okay! Haul…” jerking his thumb over his shoulder”...one’a them Jeeps to here.”
As Karlin and Stevens pushed the first Jeep forward, going into the storage room, rolling the cart before him, Malcolm returned with five cans of thirty weight engine oil and all else needed to get Jeep ‘number one’ in operating condition… As ‘Sergeant’ Malcolm Murphy found it rather nice to be, ‘boss’.
Cincinnati, Ohio
12/22/41
1515 (3.15 PM)
Standing in the shadow of the lower level driveway leading into the parking area, Captain McLaughlin, Sergeant Murphy and recently promoted, privates first class, Karlin and Stevens watched as forty-five fully conditioned and operative Willy’s Jeeps drove up the ramp and into the last of the five U.S. Army vehicle carriers bound for the railroad freight yard to be loaded onto flat bed cargo carriers bound for…?
“Sarge…” offering his hand “...Lloyd and me want to thank you for all the stuff you taught us.”
“And to apologize for being such pricks early on.” Frank added.
Shaking both boy’s hands. “My pleasure, guys.” knowing these two eighteen year old boys were bound to war. “Stay safe, you two…” Malcolm said “… ‘ you hear’! Stay safe!!”
12/24/41
With nothing else to do, but to further learn the mechanics of a Willy’s Jeep, on this day Malcolm was told he’ll be driven home for the holiday, and to return on his own on the 27th.
Cincinnati, Ohio
12/27/41
0600 (6:00 AM)
The yellow brick building housing the armory and the 23rd Infantry Division covered a quarter-block on the southwest corner of Cincinnati's Fifth and Ardmore Streets.
At precisely 0600 hours on the freezing cold December morning of Saturday December 27, 1941, the drivers of a convoy of eighteen khaki and field-green camouflaged troop carriers turned the keys and stepped on the accelerators starting their Ford and Chevrolet motors adjust a roaring and spewing of noxious gray exhaust. Thirty seconds later, the five lead Willy’s Jeeps pulled forward the troop carriers leading the five mile progression to the Cincinnati train depot.
The tailpipe of the last Jeep clearing—“Hope those fuckers are freezing their fuckin’ ass’s off!” — the troop carriers pulled from the curb with a jerk, jolting the eighteen, freezing, National Guard troopers sitting on wooden benches on either side of the canvas-covered truck.
Enclosed within a hardly effective, see-through plastic windows and canvas covers… Jeep number one contained the ‘general’ commander of the entire districts three National Guard units.
Jeep number two, commander of Cincinnaties 23rd Infantry Division.
Jeeps numbers three and four, the four first lieutenants of the 23rd division. One vehicle driven by a corporal, and the second by a sergeant.
In the fifth Jeep was Captain McLaughlin being driven by corporal Adam Tanner.
Loveland, Ohio
12/27/41
8:03 Am
“ ‘Morning!”
Sarah behind the counter. Murray and Ellen— alongside her husband— on the other side.
“ ‘Morning, Sarah, Ellen.” Taking a long look at Malcolm. “Glad you’re back.” Elsa said on her way to the fatigue hat making machine.
“They pulled out at six?”
“Yeah, Murray. The whole division.”
“Had to feel a little eerie, just you there, alone.”
“May have been someone left upstairs, don’t know.”
“How you feel about this? Them gone, you still here.”
“Shitty.” Malcolm said, watching sleet like snow battering the large window.“Guess I was starting to feel I belonged with them, Sarah.”
“You wanted to go?” Ellen asked. “Really!”
Hoping the troops were aboard the train and out of the weather.
“I like McLaughlin, and after those other two got to know me— and me them, yeah, Karlin and Stevens, too. I do feel that I belong with them.”
Thought you became a pacifist after… you know?” Sarah questioned.
“You want to go to war, Malcolm? To maybe kill people?”
“Don’t know, baby. It’s just when I think of all this country has given you and Clyde and me in these last couple of years… I feel I need to do ‘something’ to help defend her. And feel like…” Malcolm’s eyes becoming watery “...Mac and those two kids are my friends and that I should be with them.”
“Where you think they’re heading now?”
“Scuttlebutt is first ‘Fort McCoy’ in Wisconsin for battlefield training, then… ‘the Pacific’? ‘Europe’? God only knows.”
“Glad he didn’t...” Ellen said “… but couldn’t your captain have taken you along if he wanted?”
“Mac ‘couldn’t’! He was the only one that knew about me. There was no record of a Sergeant Malcolm Murphy, and when they started counting heads?”
Finished restocking the assorted nut and bolt barrel, coming forward...
“The whole thing, that phony ‘Field Enlistment’ giving me the rank of Sergeant was all bullshit because he needed someone to get those fifty Jeeps rolling, and knew the kids that wanted to help wouldn’t listen to me if I was a civilian, so Mac made the whole thing up.”
Coming from mid-store. “Did you know, though...” Lester asked “...about that field enlistment thing? At the time, did you know?”
Looking out the window. “Did I know it was bullshit?” Shrugging his shoulders.”Don’t think I really cared, because I had to do ‘something’!”
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224
Chapter Twenty-Three
Colonel Jimmy
