Mabelene stepped back and turned her head to one side.
“My, don’t you look handsome!”
Willie had donned new clothes that Ben had brought to him for the Christmas party. He had gotten a haircut and had shaved carefully. Mabelene had come in to check him over, and now she said, “You know what’ll make you look really good?”
“What’s that, Mabelene?”
“Cornrows. Now they’d make you look really spiffy.”
Willie laughed. “I don’t think I’ve got what it takes for cornrows, Mabelene.”
“No, I guess not. That boy of yours,” she said suddenly, “he serious about that lady doctor?”
“He’s serious as income tax.”
“I asked around about her from doctors I know. They say she’s really OK.”
“Why, I’m glad that you approve.”
“You know,” Mabelene said, “it don’t hurt to have a doctor around at times.”
“You mean when you’re sick?”
“No,” Mabelene smiled broadly, “Dr. Delaughter, she used her influence here in the hospital to get her own way. You’re gonna get to use the board room for a private Christmas dinner. Ain’t that a caution? Nobody has ever got to use the board room for nothin’ like that.”
Mabelene had just turned to go when Ben and Charlene entered the room. “Hello, Mabelene,” Ben said. “Here’s your present.” He handed her a package, and she glanced at him suspiciously. “It didn’t come from that old Victoria Secrets, did it?”
“No, it came from the Bible book store. I think you’ll like it.”
“I’ll put it under the tree, and remember you promised to go to our Christmas program at the church. It’s tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be there.”
“And so will I,” Charlene said. She handed Mabelene a small, gaily-wrapped package. “Merry Christmas.”
“Why shoot, Doctor, I didn’t get you nothin’.”
“You can get me something next year.”
Ben said, “I think the meal’s all ready.”
“I told Sergeant Raines here about you gettin’ the private board room. I don’t know how you arranged that. They didn’t let nobody else do it.”
“Rank has its privileges,” Charlene smiled. “You come on down later, Mabelene, and sample some of the meal we put together.”
“I’ll maybe do that.”
Ben got behind Willie’s wheelchair and said, “All right, Pop, time for a great Christmas dinner.”
Ben wheeled Willie down the corridor. They took the elevator and went to the third floor where the board room was. Charlene opened the door, and when they went in, Willie gasped, “Well, look at this!”
The board room had been converted into a miniature banquet room. The long table was covered with a tablecloth, white with bells and ivy pattern. The table was all set, and over to the right two men stood beside a serving table designed to keep food hot. A stereo was playing Christmas music quietly, and Willie was overwhelmed. “This is really something!” he said.
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Dad. My doctor friend is quite a lady. She has a gift for you.”
Willie glanced over at the artificial tree that had packages stacked up under it. “I hope it ain’t socks. I hate socks for Christmas presents.”
“Oh, it’s better than socks. Too big to put under your tree. Go ahead, Charlene.”
Charlene came over and bent over Willie. She took his hands and said, “I wanted to make this a Christmas that you’d never forget. You gave my dad the best Christmas present he could have had—his life. And I had him for a long time. That was your present to me, Willie. But I thought, What would I get a man who had done such a thing for me?”
“Not neckties either. I don’t like neckties.”
“No neckties. Are you ready?”
“Guess so.”
Willie expected Charlene to go over and pick a gift out from under the tree, but instead she walked over to a door to her left and opened it. She stepped back, and Willie’s eyes opened wide when he saw who came through it.
“Willie, you old son of a gun!”
“Chief!” Willie said. He knew the man instantly even though he had not seen him for years. “Chief Shoulders!”
“It’s me all right, Sarge.” Shoulders came over, his black eyes snapping. He leaned over and took Willie’s hand. Then he reached back and put his arm around him and held him close. When he released Willie and stepped back, he said, “Look at me. I’m crying just like I was a silly woman.”
Indeed, Lonnie Shoulders did have tears in his eyes. “I should have done this a long time ago, Willie.” He wiped his eyes and said, “It’s going to be hard. I’ve never quite forgiven you for putting me on all that latrine duty.”
Willie was overjoyed and held onto Chief’s hand. “I got you a present,” Chief said. “You may not like it, but it’s one of a kind. You’ll never get another present like this.”
“You’re all the present I need, Chief. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
Chief turned and walked over toward the door. “Here it is.” He opened the door, the same door he had come through, and suddenly a man came through dressed in the uniform of the 101st Airborne. The uniform was too big now, for Pete Maxwell had shrunk. His cheeks were drawn, but he was grinning broadly. “Sarge, I’m glad to see you.”
“Pete!” Willie took one of Pete’s hands in both of his and clung to it. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it!”
“Wait until after we get through puttin’ this food away. I’m gonna do my Clark Gable imitation for you, and maybe I’ll do some card tricks, too.”
Willie could not speak he was so overcome. He looked at Charlene and said, “You couldn’t have gotten me a present I like any better. Two presents, that is.”
“No, three,” she said and walked toward the door. She spoke and Roger Saunders walked through. He was wearing gray slacks and a blue sweater, and he looked handsome with his silver hair and blue eyes. “Willie, it’s been too long.” He came over and shook Willie’s hand. “I’ve thought about you for fifty years, believe it or not. We should have kept up with each other better.”
“Roger, how have you been?”
“I’ve been fine.”
Willie clung to Roger’s hand and said, “It’s not like that Christmas at Bastogne, is it?”
“Nothing was like that.”
“One more present, Dad,” Ben said. He called out, “Come in, whoever you are.”
Billy Bob Watkins strolled in—raw-boned, lanky, his tow hair a little thinner than the last time Willie remembered, but really still the same.
“Ain’t this a kick in the head?” he said, dancing across the room. He reached over and tapped Willie on the shoulder with his big fist, then he said, “You and me, we got lots of talkin’ to do.”
Willie sat there looking around at the four men who gathered around him in a semi-circle. He looked at Charlene and said, “I wish Charlie was here.”
“He’d be here if he could.”
Willie looked around and said, “A man couldn’t have a better Christmas.”
“Now, let’s eat this food,” Charlene said, “and then you five have some catching up to do.”
* * *
The meal had been outstanding. Only Billy Bob Watkins had anything negative to say. “This dressin’ ain’t got cornbread in it.” He shook his head sadly. “There wasn’t never no good dressin’ made north of St. Louis.”
After the meal was over each man made his little speech and told Willie how much they owed to him. Each of them had filled a photograph album, all of them the same. Charlene had sent the albums to them and requested this. Each contained pictures of their families and a history of their lives. Willie sat glowing with happiness.
Finally, after the members of the squad had done their duty and spoken, Ben said, “It’s your turn, Dad.”
Willie Raines looked around the room. He felt a lump in his throat and had to clear it before he could say, “I keep thinking about that line in that poem Charlie told me about. ‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.’” Willie’s hands were not steady as he touched his chin and gazed around the room. “That’s what we were—a band of brothers.”
“Still are,” Chief Shoulders said. “Always will be.”
“That’s right,” Roger Saunders said. “All of us that went through that time are brothers.”
“You dadgum betcha,” Billy Bob Watkins nodded, “and ain’t nothin’ gonna change it.”
“I got one more present for you, Dad.” Ben held up a sheaf of papers and said, “This is my present to you. It’s the story. . . . I was assigned to write about Christmas,” he said to the men who were watching. “The title is ‘Willie Raines and the Angel of Bastogne.’ I’d like to read it for you. It starts out, ‘I spent most of my life not believing in much, but now I believe in many things. This Christmas I believe in God, and I believe in sacrifice, for I have seen it in my father. I believe that every man and every woman has a chance to give a gift that never dies, as my dad did.” He looked up and winked at his father. “And I believe in the Angel of Bastogne!”
THE END