When it got dark, and we got the
fire going, it was really peaceful out in nature. The fire crackled, the
crickets chirped, and the frogs croaked. Major Starkey made dinner for all of
us. Hot dogs on sticks have never tasted better.
At one
point David wowed all of us with something from his wallet. The US Mint has
just started issuing $2 bills. He passed his around the campfire.
“Woah,
Thomas Jefferson,” I said.
“OK
boys,” the Major said, holding back a yawn after handing David his $2 bill
back, “I’m hitting the hay. You can stay up a little later, but I want everyone
in the sack by 2200 hours. Got it? The alarm goes off at 0600. Mike and Mark
are in charge of putting out the fire.”
“Yes
sir,” they both replied.
Major
Starkey disappeared inside the tent. The five of us exhaled. From that point
on, everything we said was whispered.
“Are you
guys going to crap in that hole?” I asked.
Mark and
Mike both gave the thumbs-down sign. Dwayne and David whispered some variation
of “not a chance in hell.”
“Dwayne,”
Mark whispered. “Do you still have those cans of food?”
Dwayne
nodded. Mark’s voice got even quieter.
“Do you
want to see something really cool?”
“Sure.”
“Go get
one of your cans and bring it out here,” Mark said.
Dwayne
tiptoed back to the non-Starkey tent and rustled around inside for a few
moments. When he came back out, he was carrying one of the cans of beans. He
handed it to Mark, who threw it directly into the fire.
“What are
you doing?” David whispered.
“Just
keep an eye on that can,” Mark whispered. “It’s going to get hotter and hotter.
The pressure inside the can is going to keep on building because there is no
way for the ingredients to escape. You know what will happen?”
David
smiled. He was following along. “It will explode.”
Matching
evil grins on Mark’s and Mike’s faces confirmed his theory.
We
watched the can turn black and expand for a few minutes.
“Let’s
get behind the tents,” Mike said. “Just in case the explosion sends metal
shrapnel through the air.”
I felt
like we were in a war zone as we hunkered down behind the non-Starkey tent. We
could hear the can making weird noises. It felt like the time was near. Another
few clinking noises of the metal expanding. And then it happened.
Kabloom!
Baked
beans flew through the air. We heard some of them splash into the river, and we
saw some of them splatter the nearby trees. It was glorious.
Unfortunately,
it was also loud.
Major
Starkey came out of the Starkey tent dressed only in his white underpants.
“What the
hell are you boys doing out here?” he demanded. He lifted his right foot in the
air and stared at it. “What the hell did I just step in?”
“Baked
beans,” Mark replied.
“God
bless it,” he said. “How many times have I asked you boys not to blow up the
provisions!”
“Sorry
dad.”
“To bed,
all of you.”
When I
nestled into my sleeping bag that night, I had a big smile on my face. We have
three more nights, and Dwayne has three more cans.
Wonder what the Spaghetti-Os will sound
like.
~~~
In the middle of the night I heard the first drops. There’s
nothing quite like the sound of rain falling on a canvas tent. It has a way of
sharpening the senses. I rustled Dwayne awake.
“It’s
raining,” I said.
“I hear
it,” he replied.
“Tomorrow’s
going to suck,” I said.
“I know,”
he replied.
We awoke
a few hours later to a torrential downpour. The plan had been to wake up at
0600, make breakfast, pack up, and resume our canoe trip. This didn’t sound
like a good plan anymore. The non-Starkeys were not water-proofed, and we had
no idea what to do.
“Boys are
you awake?” Major Starkey called from the next tent.
“Yes
sir,” David replied.
“Is the
water coming into your tent yet?” the Major asked.
I didn’t
see any, and didn’t feel any, so I responded in the negative.
“OK,
good,” he said. “My boys and I will take down our tent, pack up our stuff, load
up the canoe, and then we’ll help you with your stuff. In the meantime, pack up
your backpacks.”
“Maybe we
should just stay here until the rain stops,” I suggested.
“Negative,”
Major Starkey replied. “The river is rising, and we’ll be underwater in a few
hours if we don’t keep on moving.”
“I guess
they’ve never heard of levees here,” Dwayne muttered.
I had
heard that word once before, but never really considered what it was. I only
knew that Don McLean drove his Chevy to the levee and the levee was dry. Dwayne
explained the whole levee concept to me. Growing up in Louisiana along the
Mississippi, he knew all about the embankments along the river that helped
prevent flooding. It did seem strange that there weren’t any along the Lahn
River, but then again, this area has been around for centuries. They must not
need them.
By the
time we got into the canoe, we were soaked to the bone. So was all of our
stuff. David’s scout shirt clung to him like it was his skin. Dwayne’s corduroy
pants were no longer beige. I was slightly less wet because I had shelled out
the extra $1.50 for the Boy Scout baseball cap. It was keeping the rain out of
my eyes. Meanwhile, the Starkeys were wearing rain ponchos over their scout
uniforms and seemed unfazed by the situation.
In the
morning Major Starkey was still trying to pretend like it was fun to canoe in a
rising river that moved much faster than yesterday. By lunchtime he was looking
at his wet map, trying to figure out which town was going to be our stopping
point. He decided we would stop in Limburg and try to find a hotel. The tents
were not usable under the circumstances.
The rain
was still coming down, but we saw the town in the distance. A beautiful castle
or cathedral was beckoning us. Major Starkey had done his research.
“That’s
the Limburger Dom,” he told us. “If you’re ever lucky enough to get a 1000 DM
bill, it’s on the back. I visited this town when we first moved here. Great
museums. The old town is from the medieval times. Some parts of the castle are
almost a thousand years old.”
“Is there
where Limburger cheese comes from?” David asked. I was thinking the same thing.
The Little Rascals were always talking about how disgusting Limburger cheese
is.
“I don’t
think so,” Major Starkey replied. “There’s a Limburg in Holland too. The
Netherlands has more of a cheese culture.”
We found
a place near the bridge to dock our canoe and made our way into the town.
“I stayed
in a hotel near here,” Major Starkey told us.
He
trudged the five boys through the cobblestone streets, and we entered the lobby
of a hotel in the shadow of the Limburger Dom. The hotel was opulent. We were
not.
“May I
help you?” the lady at the desk asked the Major in English. I guess it was
pretty obvious that we were Americans.
He
explained our situation to the lady, asked if we could have two rooms for the
night, if they had driers for the non-Starkeys to dry the rest of our clothes,
and if they had robes we could wear while the clothes were being dried. After
getting answers in the affirmative, he looked me in the eye.
“What’s
the Boy Scout motto?” He asked.
“Be
Prepared,” I answered.
“Were you
prepared?” he asked me and Dwayne.
“No sir,”
we replied.
“Were you
prepared?” he asked David.
“No sir,”
David replied.
“I’m
charging your parents for this room,” the Major said, “and any costs incurred
laundering your stuff.”
“Yes
sir,” we replied.
Mike and
Mark were smirking behind his back. They were clearly enjoying this.
~~~
Our room had two single beds pushed together to make it into
a bigger bed, with two huge feather comforters. This was going to be much more
comfortable than the floor of the tent last night, even if the three of us had
to figure out a way to fit into the bed and share the blankets.
The view
from our hotel window was really interesting. We could see portions of the
medieval wall that used to surround the town, and the quaint half-timber
buildings on the other side of the wall, plus the red and white St. George’s
Cathedral. On a sunny day, the view probably took your breath away. Today, it
was gray and rainy and foggy. It was like being on the set of Young
Frankenstein.
The robes
they gave us were way too big, especially for Dwayne and me. David almost
looked normal, so he volunteered to go back into the lobby and see if he could
find anything interesting for us to do while we waited for our clothes. When he
came back to the room, his face was pale. He was holding a newspaper in his
hand.
“The IG
Farben building has been bombed,” he said.
“What’s
that?” Dwayne asked.
“That’s
where our dads work,” I said.
“You can
read German, right?” David asked as he handed me the paper. “What does this
article say?”
I
translated as I read it.
“Two
time-bombs exploded at US Army headquarters in Frankfurt, formerly known as the
IG Farben building. At least seventeen people are wounded, a few of them
critically. The victims are American Army officers and civilians, who were
dining at the Officers Club within the complex.”
“That’s
where our dads eat lunch every day,” David said.
“Oh my
God,” Dwayne said. “What time of day did this happen?”
I skimmed
the text looking for an answer. I didn’t like what I found.
“Noon.”
“Oh my
God,” Dwayne said again.
David was
quiet. Tears were forming in his eyes behind his thick glasses. I kept on
reading, hoping for good news.
“Violence
was expected when Ulrike Meinhof died in prison under mysterious circumstances.
The Red Army Faction had bombed this facility two years earlier, claiming that
it housed the CIA, and that it was instrumental in the war crimes of Vietnam.
Interior Minister Werner Maihmfee said that ‘pseudo-political motivations are
once again assumed’ and that three people are in police custody. None of the
victims have been named. Twelve of the seventeen are in the hospital, and three
of them are in intensive care.”
David
went straight to the phone and picked it up.
“Major
Starkey said ‘no phone calls’” I pointed out.
David
didn’t listen. He dialed his home number and waited. And waited. Seven rings.
“Nobody
is answering,” he said. I could see the panic starting to form in his eyes.
“Let me
call my house,” I said, grabbing the phone from his hand. I dialed my home
number and waited. And waited. Five rings. No answer. Six rings. No answer.
“Oh my
God,” I said.
I gently
placed the receiver on the phone.
“Do you
know your dad’s work number?” Dwayne asked both of us.
Neither
of us did.
