An hour later, half the folks in town who owned a car must have decided at the same time to show up at Jake’s for gas and oil, with tires that were low on air and radiators that had decided to go haywire and all kinds of other automobile malfunctions. For the next two hours, Daddy, Matthew, Meriwether, and I didn’t seem to get a minute of rest. Finally, things settled down.
Meriwether, with Abigail nestled beside him, was resting in the spot where he usually eats his lunch. “Now, that’s what’s called earnin’ your pay,” he told me. “’Bouta have our lunch now, nuthin’ but fruit and turkey sandwiches. You welcome to share. Abigail will pro’bly only eat half of hers.”
“No, thank you. It’d ruin my appetite for supper, and Mama ain’t fond of that.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I’ll sit here a spell, though. Daddy’s workin’ on his ledger. Doesn’t like to be bothered when it comes to numbers.”
Meriwether patted the ground beside him and I took a seat. “How was that parade you were so excited about?”
“There were lots of people, and a marching band, and the mayor of Charleston gave a speech, and afterward there was a party at my cousin’s house for my uncle Earl and some of the other war heroes. Never seen so many medals. And a photographer from the Charleston newspaper was there.”
“Sounds like you had a very good time,” he said.
“Boy, did I. Uncle Earl and the others told us all about the Battle of the Bulge. Said they’d never seen so much snow. Didn’t know places on Earth could get that cold.”
“They’re right about that. It wasn’t just cold—we were close to bein’ frozen . . .” Suddenly, he stopped.
“What’d you say?” I asked him.
Abigail, whose nose had been buried in the book, glanced over at her father. “You promised Mama not to talk about it ’round white folks . . . ever,” she warned.
“Talk about what?”
Meriwether gazed off into space. “You good at keepin’ secrets, Gabriel?”
“Usually.”
Abigail stood up. “Don’t tell him, Daddy. Mama made you swear on the Bible.”
“I won’t tell no one, I promise . . . What?”
“I hope you’re a person of your word, Gabriel Haberlin.”
“I am . . . Why’d you say that stuff about the Battle of the Bulge? You made it sound like you were there too.”
“I was. And so were other colored men. And I’m tired of keepin’ it bottled up inside me when y’all’s soldiers get to brag and have fancy parades and all I have is a uniform, a Good Conduct Medal, an honorable discharge, and my memories. Always considered myself to be a brave man, but lately I’ve been so fulla fear, I’ve even stopped relivin’ it with colored folks.” He stared off again into the distance before continuing. “I already have the answer to this question, but lemme ask it anyway. Any colored soldiers honored in that parade?”
“No.”
Meriwether drew his knees up to his chest and dropped his head into his hands. Abigail patted his shoulder tenderly. “Don’t be sad about it again, Daddy.”
“Startin’ to feel like a dream,” he whispered.
“What’d you do over there?”
He raised his head and looked straight at me. “I drove a tank.”
“Wow!”
“Yessiree. I was a member of the United States Army’s 761st Tank Battalion . . . all colored. Called ourselves the Black Panthers. Motto was Come Out Fighting, and that’s exactly what we did. Proud to say we finished off a lotta Nazis and did our part to win the war.”
“Wow!” I repeated. “That where you learned ’bout engines and all that?”
“Had some trainin’ in high school but mastered it in the army. Spent more than a year learnin’ everything ’bout those tanks, includin’ how to take ’em apart and put ’em back together again. Most of us thought we’d never see any action. Idling in neutral same as a car, that’s what it felt like. But we were prepared, ready, and rarin’ to go . . . All we needed was someone to slip us into gear and step on the gas. Finally, General Patton did and we were deployed.”
“So, you’re a war hero just like my uncle,” I told him.
“Sure thought I was ’til I was shipped home, got my discharge papers, and came face-to-face with the truth.”
Right then, Matthew called out and waved me up front to the pumps to help him. I really didn’t want the conversation to end because I had a lot of questions for Meriwether, but I had no choice. “Dang it! I gotta go.”
“Remember the promise you made me.”
The seriousness in his voice let me know how important it was to him, and I replied, “I will. I promise.”
The next time I caught sight of him, he’d finished for the day. All I saw were their backs, his and Abigail’s, as they walked away, Meriwether holding her hand. I wondered why he didn’t want white folks to know about him being a tanker and what he meant by “the truth.”
“G’night!” I hollered out.
They both turned and waved.