Under the Polish Moon

What the hell am I doing?

Puffing, almost too much to think, but the mind keeps rattling on. I…just…wonder why I get into these things…well, I’m at least over half way. Damn, it hurts.

Such are the thoughts of a young man in just fair shape trying to run a mile around a track in the balcony above a school basketball court. The fact is nobody gives a damn how fast he runs. The exercise has only one purpose, will the body take the punishment or will it show up some physical defect?

After everyone finishes the run they are all treated to adding several sets of push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, crunches and other body punishing exercises. A few have to quit. They hang their heads, seeming to wonder what’s in store for them. The rest continue to punish their bodies—and swear.

There is a change in the attitude of the participants. Now it isn’t so much why am I doing this? It’s more like I’ll show those bastards. The morning seems to have passed from I wonder if I can do this to yes, I can do this crap.

The guy in charge gives a short speech about something, but most aren’t really listening. Then he says, You’ll hear from us. A few of the guys linger and bullshit as they shower and get dressed.

The morning is over and most of them are pretty hungry. They all move off with their own thoughts and purposes. Now it’s hurry up and wait until the Milwaukee Police Department notifies those who have passed and will be invited to join the force as patrolmen.

Willard W. Wickham is glad it’s over.

Chapter 1

Willard never warmed up to his first name so he chose to go by Walt, a shortening of his middle name. His name was hung on him as a tribute to his maternal grandfather. Not really a bad thing since Walt always liked the old man. They had fun every time they were together. Old Willard supported Walt in almost every decision.

The only time there was no support was when 11-year old Walt took the car keys off his dad’s bedroom dresser. He intended to try out the family car in the driveway, but grandpa saw him. The lecture from Old Willard was short, but his look of disappointment really cut into Walt. It was a tough and lasting lesson for a young boy.

School wasn’t too bad. Walt’s mom had taught in a one-room schoolhouse where she had some eight graders older than herself. Like all teachers she was driven to keep educating whoever and whenever possible. By the time Walt got to kindergarten he was way past sounding out words and counting. He advanced to first grade in a few months.

Walt’s mother’s family had emigrated from Ireland and retained their Irish pride and sense of humor. When he was having trouble making up his mind about something she would say, You’ll be a long time dead. Walt never did quite figure out what she meant by, If, if, stood in the corner stiff, or Make out the light. Having a temper, sometimes Walt would get mad and say, I’ll kill him! to which his mother would just say, You can’t; it’s against the law.

Walt’s dad worked for a large company. The only way to advance and receive a promotion was to move to a new city. The move put Walt back into the first grade for an extra half year since the new town had no midterm graduations. They stayed in that small Wisconsin town until he graduated from high school.

The small consolidated school had rural and farm kids in every class. It made for a rounded education, often to Walt’s embarrassment. One such time was when several of them sat together at lunch enjoying milk with the main dish of macaroni and cheese. Walt soon became sorry he asked what they meant when they said the cow freshened.

One of the farm girls enjoyed watching his ears turn red when he found out, in farm terms, how the cow was bred and after the calf was born, she freshened. You just pull her teats and strip out the milk, you dumb city clunk. All females get milk after they’ve had a baby. The harassment was tough enough, but since she talked so loud, everyone else at the nearby tables listened and just roared with laughter.

During 12 years of school there were many more painful explanations from other farm girls and guys. They all knew Walt would be great to poke fun at. In later years it got a little less embarrassing and sort of fun, even for him.

Graduation was a huge sigh of relief. Those who received grades in the top 1/3 of the class could apply for the state college or university with almost a 100% chance of being accepted. Walt made it and went off to school.

College was not too hard and you could coast along if you paid attention in class and just did the assignments. Walt found two ways to work his way through school and then use the summers and holidays to get money for tuition, room and books. He managed to get a job in the biggest girls’ dorm washing dishes. That gave him his meals in a really great location.

Man, I should be paying them, he told his roommate.

Work was a way of life for Walt. He had always had a job long before he was 16. He was able to put himself through college by working full time each summer and school breaks. Then part-time work during school gave him spending money.

Walt found he enjoyed the compulsory ROTC classes, so he signed up for a six-year enlistment. The last two years in college included some pay which made school activities more affordable. You dumb Irish Mick’s always end up being cops, his roommate said when he was assigned to the Military Police Corps.

Upon graduation and receiving his commission as a second lieutenant, Walt was off to join a military police company in Michigan. They were assigned to Fort Custer, which also housed the stockade, a collecting point for all military prisoners within the 5th Army - about 300 at the time. A new education for a young 22 year-old kid was just beginning.

Walt was excited about his new career, but in the back of his mind he felt his goal was to become a private detective. He liked the law enforcement field, but wanted to end up being his own boss.

Walt had a company of 30 reserves, or as they were called, part-time soldiers. He was also assigned as a prison officer of the day. The company duty took most of the day and then as a prison officer he was scheduled with a 24-hour shift at the stockade. That meant 32 hours on, then eight hours off and it started all over.

You know a guy could get tired doing this, Walt told his captain one day. Walt was surprised when the captain smirked and remarked, Oh, you think?

Walt was thinking how lucky he was. Sergeant Charles Lowell was assigned to Walt’s company and became his First Sergeant. Lowell had been in the army for 18 years. During the Korean War he received a battlefield commission to captain. With the end of the war and the end of his enlistment the army gave him a choice. He took the bonus and re-enlisted with a permanent rank of First Sergeant rather than return to inactive duty in the reserves.

How does it feel for a captain to be working for a fresh out of school college boy? asked Walt.

No question it beats hell out of freezing your ass off in Korea.

Lowell was pleased with his assignment and thought about making the new lieutenant look good. It would be easy to mold him so his own duty would be even better. He could actually be in charge without the full responsibility.

It was soon apparent that military prisoners had nothing to lose and would often show their distaste to being ordered around. Every morning at 5:30 a.m. all prisoners were turned out into the parade field in front of the barracks for roll call and then exercise. One morning it was snowing.

Walt would read a name and wait for the required answer, Here, Sir. After about five answers, the next response was Yeah followed by snickering.

Walt repeated the name with the same results two more times. His tone was controlled and quiet as he said, I’m plenty warm and have eaten. After all, I lived in Alaska, so this weather is great. Now we can stand out here all day while your breakfast gets cold and I wait for the proper response. The Here, Sir reply was finally called out even though it was a little surly.

I didn’t know you were from Alaska, said Sergeant Lowell,

Sometimes I lie.

Chapter 2

The Fort Custer stockade had high fences with coiled razor wire on top and guard towers at each corner. Walt was one of four new lieutenants who were assigned prison officer duties. Every shift brought new challenges.

The other three officers also received their commission in the reserves, but unlike Walt, they lacked police or prison training. Like all young men with added responsibility they sometimes tended to flout their authority.

Contrary to what many people think, prisoners do have their own code of ethics. Often it is not what we consider a great code, but it is a code, Lowell told Walt. When you accept that fact, their actions are much easier to understand. They come up with some weird ways to pass their space time. You can never be sure what to expect next.

Lieutenant Walt‘s responsibility included keeping the guards alert especially during the hours of darkness.

Hours of darkness are a misnomer. Huge bright flood lights make the entire area totally visible, sometimes even brighter at night than in the daytime. A non-scheduled and varying visit was just a part of the officer’s responsibility in keeping the entire system running as it should.

One evening about midnight, Walt climbed up into guard tower #3. The guards were alert and attentive. Hey, Lieutenant, what you doing up so late?

Just thought you guys needed watching so you don’t doze off.

While looking over the compound, something caught Walt’s attention. A shadowy figure was moving around in the dark barbershop on the second floor. A walkie-talkie radio allowed Walt and Sergeant Lowell to communicate.

Hey, Sarge, check out the barbershop in Barracks 3

What am I looking for, Lieutenant?

One of our funny boys is up there crawling around and he’s not getting a haircut.

As Walt watched the barbershop, Sergeant Lowell quietly made his way to the barracks and up to the room set aside as the barbershop. The shadow turned out to be one of the enterprising prisoners busy making coffee. Such late night activities are forbidden. Seemed this was just another way the prisoners had to test the Army and its officers while trying to chip away at authority.

What happened up there, Sarge? Walt asked.

Sergeant Lowell said, As I quietly sneaked up the steps I could smell coffee and wondered how that could be. Seems the prisoner rigged up an old electric cord so the electricity flowed between the wires when it was immersed in water.

Then what? Walt said.

Electricity arched from one wire to the other and the heat boiled the water making coffee Lowell laughed. It was ingenious.

Too bad he didn’t touch them together and we’d have had fireworks, said Walt.

Well I did shake him up when I said, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ He pulled the wires out so fast that they touched and burned his fingers. Then he straightened up and banged his head on the sink.

He did what? said Walt laughing. I’ll be right in and we’ll talk to our new Thomas Edison.

The inmate had all his privileges cancelled for two weeks and received a stern rebuke.

I’m not at all sure the lecture did much good other than to give Barracks 3 some fun things to laugh about for a few days. said Lowell. Reprimands only affect the one guy, not the other prisoners.

Chapter 3

Lieutenant Chuck Johnson, also in his early 20’s, liked authority. He often put down the company soldiers as well as the prisoners. Most of his criticism was rather unimportant, but prisoners don’t always think like other soldiers.

Why do you hassle the prisoners, Chuck? Walt asked. The way it looks to me, they’re getting pretty fed up. Some of them are pretty rough. I’d watch my ass if I were you.

Don’t you worry about me. I earned these bars and I’m in charge. I want them all to know my word is law, he said. Sadly, Lt. Chuck was about to get a hard lesson.

A nightly duty for the Officer of the Day was to take off your .45 automatic and check the stockade. A sergeant would accompany them, but was not always available. Johnson went into the stockade alone, not wanting to wait for the sergeant.

The task is to count the prisoners in each barracks looking for empty beds. He counted prisoners in several of the barracks. When he got to Barracks 4 those in the guard tower heard a major commotion. When the sergeant on duty was informed he rushed in with two soldiers to see what was happening.

When they snapped on the lights all prisoners were in their bunks. Johnson was curled up moaning, bleeding on the wood barracks floor. They took him out and off to the post hospital.

The doc on duty said, Boy, they sure did a job on him! He’ll need some stitches and rest, but there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage.

They called Lt. Walt in to finish the shift. What the hell happened? he asked.

Lieutenant Johnson was Officer of the Day and got blanket rolled.

Blanket rolled? What the hell is that?

Well, when the bastards want to beat up someone they leave their boots on and go to bed. Then when it’s dark and the guy walks by, they throw a blanket over him from a top bunk and everyone jumps up and kicks the shit out of him. Then they leave their boots at the foot of the bunk as usual, get back in bed and pretend to be sleeping.

So who did it?

We’ll likely never know for sure.

Jesus!

Yah, I know. Maybe I’ll find out through the grapevine.

Shit and I was just getting into an erotic dream. Son of a bitch! Roll out Barracks 4 and see what they have to say. This really ticks me off!

Won’t help Lieutenant, they won’t squeal.

Like I don’t know that, but a while in the fresh night air won’t hurt. I think it’s below freezing. We can’t just ignore it, Sarge.

Amid grumbling, the whole barracks turned out. The Sarge and a couple soldiers checked boots, but there was no noticeable blood.

All right guys, what the hell happened? asked Lt. Walt.

Silence hung with an occasional giggle from the back.

Parade Rest! Lt Walt commanded. Now we’ll see how you enjoy this early morning air.

Shit, you can’t punish the whole fuckin’ barracks for something, someone squawked.

Who said anything about punishing anyone. I’m conducting an investigation and I expect it will take at least an hour.

Another voice mumbled, That asshole deserved it.

Lieutenant Walt and Sergeant Lowell spent an hour just questioning prisoners as they stood at parade rest. They dismissed the formation.

Walt called Lowell over and quietly said, Sarge, turn them out an hour early for close order drill. Then make sure they have less time for breakfast. We’ll check the barracks and let them enjoy a little more of the crisp morning air. If they complain, we’ll just have to spend more time on the parade field investigating.

The next morning the information and reports were turned over to the Provost Marshall. Sarge Lowell was right; they never did find out who was involved.

Chapter 4

Tuesday was expected to be a slow day, so Walt decided to take time off. He had been dating Ginny O’Donnell for several months, but hadn’t been getting very much free time lately.

They first met at a florist shop where Ginny worked arranging flowers and creating displays. Walt was assigned to get centerpieces for a dinner honoring the Post Commander. He found out Ginny had been born in Georgia in a rural area near Macon.

Walt called her Monday evening. Hi Ginny, this is Walt. You busy?

Hi, Walt. No, I’m doing my nails. How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in so long.

"That’s what I hoped you’d say. What are the chances of