CHAPTER THREE A SOLDIER RETURNS
CHAPTER
THREE
A Soldier Returns
Despite the food and the cramped quarters, a relaxed euphoria settled over Benny as he watched the ship churn white waves behind as it sped across the Atlantic.
He lingered on deck, with the peaceful confidence that there were no German U-boats lurking beneath, waiting to blast them out of the water.
He felt lucky to be standing there headed home, when other men, good men, hadn’t been so fortunate.
When they docked in New York, a crowd waved and cheered like they were conquering heroes, and Benny basked in it along with everyone else. The joy spilled from people’s faces, with smiles and whoops directed at the returning soldiers. It sent Benny’s insides buzzing with pleasure and pride.
From New York, they boarded crowded trains for home, with soldiers huddled together swapping war stories.
When they got to the south, the conductors came through the cars to make the Negro passengers move to a segregated section.
Benny’s skin prickled and tingled as the conductor passed him by, only to stop further along in the train car, to tell a deep ebony man it was time for him to move on back.
‘We’ve crossed the Mason–Dixon,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to get to your place.’
Benny recognized the look of quiet fury in the dark man’s expression. He felt sick watching the soldier take his bag from the luggage rack above and shuffle down the aisle, limping from some unhealed injury.
The rest of the way home, Benny’s anger grew inside him like a solid thing that he could taste in his mouth and feel under his skin.
For the last leg of his trip, he changed from the train to a bus, and when he climbed on board, he stopped at the front of the aisle, staring at the signs segregating the bus into white and colored.
Benny froze, as if he’d heard the click of a landmine underfoot and the smallest shift of weight would blow everything sky-high, except he was the landmine trying not to explode.
His armpits began to sweat, and his breathing went heavy.
He was back home, but he wasn’t the same Benny.
Behind him, someone poked between his shoulder blades, and when he turned around, an older lady, speckled with sunspots, stood there looking expectant. ‘Are you getting on, young man?’
Beside her, a man about her age smiled at him. ‘Do you need help finding your bus?’
Benny shook his head and started down the aisle. He sat in an empty seat toward the front, blood rushing through his ears. As the couple passed him, the man leaned in. Benny’s gut clenched as he braced for a challenge, but the old man said, ‘Thank you for your service, son. Welcome home.’
Benny nodded and turned his face to the window. He ignored the shuffle of feet that passed by and the sigh of a plump woman who lowered herself into the aisle seat next to him.
By the time the bus driver closed the doors, every seat was taken and two colored men stood in the back. The engine started and the bus sighed as the brakes released, setting the wheels slowly rolling. They hadn’t made it two feet when a man rushed up and banged on the doors.
‘Is this the fifty-four bus?’ he called through the closed flaps.
The driver swung the doors open, waving him on with a nod. ‘You almost missed us.’
‘Thanks for stopping.’ He climbed on board out of breath.
They waited for him to find a seat, but with the white section full, he stood hovering where the colored section started, looking expectantly at the driver.
‘No more seats?’ The bus driver got up from behind the wheel and came down the aisle. He motioned to the first row of the colored section. ‘Y’all get on up out of there and let this man sit down.’
Two women sat on one side of the aisle and an older man and a uniformed army vet sat on the other. The two women and elderly man moved. The soldier seemed to sink in his seat and stilled, like he’d turned to lead.
‘You heard me,’ the driver said. ‘Go on, now. Get.’
Benny’s hands pricked. He rubbed them against his thighs and craned his head around to get a better look at the man. Right away he spotted the two silver bars on his crisp uniform showing he was a captain. An officer who outranked Benny.
The officer looked at the driver and shook his head. ‘No more.’
The bus driver’s mouth twisted into a scowl. ‘That’s why we shouldn’t have let you people fight. It makes you forget your place.’ He pointed his finger inches away from the captain. ‘No white man will stand while you sit on this bus.’
‘But there’s room for him to sit now,’ said a young white woman in the row ahead of Benny.
‘They don’t all have to get up for one man.
’ Her blue eyes blazed and she looked like she wanted to say more but she held her tongue.
Someone at the front of the bus grunted in agreement and the bus driver’s face speckled with red blotches.
‘Well, they can’t sit in the same row,’ said the man who’d thanked Benny for his service. ‘That wouldn’t be right.’
The army officer sat stone-faced as the driver stormed off the bus. Minutes later, he returned with four policemen.
‘Get off this bus, boy,’ one shouted as soon as he stepped on board. All four had their clubs drawn.
Benny read the fear in the captain’s eyes, but there was also determination in the set of his mouth and the tightness of his shoulders. He recognized that look from a thousand soldiers on the brink of battle, not wanting the fight but ready for it.
The eager policeman brought his billy-club down on the captain, who caught it and twisted, wrenching it from his grasp as the second policeman struck at his arms. A third rammed his stick into the soldier’s chest.
Shouts of protest rose from the back of the bus and before he thought about it, Benny stood. ‘Stop that. Stop it right now.’ The authority in his voice cut through the mayhem and made the police look back.
They hesitated, then the fourth policeman said, ‘Sir, we’re just trying to restore order.’
‘Arrest him if that’s what you’re here to do, but put away those clubs. You’ve got no cause for that kind of treatment.’ The blood rushed in his ears as his heart pounded in his throat.
Two policemen took hold of the captain’s arms. His once tidy uniform had its buttons ripped off; his hat lay on the floor. Benny stood mute as they dragged the officer out of his seat.
‘Sorry to disturb, folks,’ the fourth policeman said, passing through the front section.
The captain fixed Benny with a knowing look as he passed, like he could see every drop of Negro blood that ran in his veins.
There was some shuffling of seats at the back of the bus as young men got up to let the two women and the old man sit.
In front of them, the white man sat down and the bus driver made his way to his place behind the wheel.
Benny sat back down and turned his face to the window in time to see one of the policemen knock the soldier to the ground.
The fourth one, who’d told Benny they were trying to restore order, kicked at his body.
The bus pulled away as another struck his back with a billy-club.
Benny’s heart thudded and stuttered as horror and outrage swirled inside him. A sheen of sweat covered his face as the bus bumped down the road.
‘Mangrove Bay,’ the driver eventually announced.
The bus had emptied to half full although Benny had hardly noticed.
He stood, but as he did, he saw the segregated water fountains outside the town hall, and then beside them the movie theater with its separate entrances for whites in the main theater and coloreds in the cramped balcony.
His mouth went dry, and needles pricked the back of his throat.
He could not return to the life he’d left. He couldn’t make himself small enough.
‘Are you all right?’ the woman beside him asked. She’d stood to make room for him to get off. ‘Is this your stop?’
Benny shook his head and sank into his seat, ducking low, hiding his face, hoping not to be recognized.
‘You look like you’ve had a fright,’ she said, sitting back down and laying her hand on his arm. ‘I can’t imagine what you all saw over there, but don’t you worry.’ She patted his arm. ‘You’re home safe now.’
Her words curdled in his stomach, and he turned away from her to the window watching his old hometown disappear in the distance.