Behavior Report 7

Dearest Love,

I’ve never been more certain that something happened in my life. I swear to you, to Junior, to everything that is Holy, that I heard a gunshot right as Lieutenant Talbott entered the village. The sound was unmistakable. A “Ka-pow,” just like in the comic strips. I heard the sound echo within the trees all around us.

Yet Lieutenant Talbott stands.

My rifle anxiously shuffles back and forth between windows and doorways and any place else that may hold a Kraut. My chest heaves because I can’t catch my breath. I glance toward Surplis, leaning on the tree next to me, and he seems unaffected, undisturbed. Troha and Roland appear the same way. The crack, the gunshot, the “Ka-pow,” still rings in my ears. I can taste the gunpower. I can still feel the shockwave.

Yet, Lieutenant Talbott still stands, still acts as if he’s reconnoitering, still putting on his show to prove his bravery.

I struggle to find the truth. I struggle to understand a moment where one of my senses told me one thing and another tells me something entirely different. I know I heard something, but I see nothing. Has my imagination grown so strong that I am beginning to experience my greatest fears? Is my body telling me that only thinking about the worst isn’t enough? Now it’s telling me that I need to feel that fear with every sinew of my being?

I can’t move forward like this. I can’t deal with the realities of war as well as the realities of my imagination. I’ve never felt this way. I’ve never had my body shut down in fear. I’ve never needed to stop everything and try to regroup. What’s wrong with me? Is it the proximity to death that has finally flipped a switch inside my body to react as fully as possible to every potential thought and threat?

Surplis slaps me on the shoulder and whispers, “Quit breathing so hard. The whole village can hear you.”

His act of frustration is my salvation and wherever my thoughts are, stuck in some dangerous dungeon or locked away in some room high up in a castle, I break free. Reality returns. Lieutenant Talbott walks. The boys protect. I get my head on straight. The clarity opens my ears again to where I hear Roland and George talking.

“Why is he doing this?”

“For the honor? I don’t know. Pretty sure this place is a ghost town.”

Surplis adds, “I don’t see anything moving.”

“You likely won’t,” George replies. “He knows it too. All those footprints in the mud on the way here told us that. These poor people are somewhere else.”

“If they are even alive anymore,” Roland says.

Lieutenant Talbott gets all the way to the first building and peers through the window. He takes a few steps back, looks up, and then looks over to the next building. His shoulders slump as he puts his hands on his waist. His glow, his smile, come crashing down into a disappointing frown. A lone cloud in the sky happens to cover the sun in this exact moment, putting the entire village into a darkened state.

He waves for us to all come.

“That’s it?” Surplis says.

“That’s it,” George replies. “Let’s move.”

He stands and the others follow. Lafe’s team does the same and we all begin to walk toward Lieutenant Talbott. I keep my head down and my rifle readied as does many of the others.

“There’s nothing here,” Lieutenant Talbott says. “Nothing. Nobody.” He looks to the ground and then back up to us. “We should still move through building to building. We might find some people hiding or maybe some clues as to where everyone is. Can someone grab my things I left behind?”

When the cloud draws away from the sun, my eyes turn to the buildings. From my new vantage, I see that the buildings do have some old world charm about them. They may not have sloping rooflines or decorative accents, but they do have an interesting structure. Whoever built them used the stones found in the field and forest to build the walls and then plastered them with a thick ashy pewter colored mortar. Cracks form in the corners and along the foundation where bits of the mortar have broken off to expose colorful purple and blue stones as big as my head.

Once Lieutenant Talbott has his things, we all spread out and begin to walk into the village proper. I move my way over next to Earl, who smiles and continues moving forward. There are four buildings on one side of the path as soon as one enters the village. Each are duplicate two-story, six-windowed rectangles separated by a wall made of the same materials. Beyond the buildings is the village center where a church that reminds me of a miniature Notre Dame Cathedral resides. A round wooden post, planted crookedly in the ground,  holds a simple white sign with black letters.

“Le Perir,” Earl says. “Interesting name. Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“Wonder what it means,” I say.

“Beautiful village? Or empty village.”

Lieutenant Talbott stops and turns to the group. “Quinten and Russell why don’t you two search that first building. Bob and Walt, search the second. Lafe and … Troha, search the third. Who else?”

Roland raises his hand and says, “Roland and Surplis, sir.”

“Thanks, go into that fourth building. The rest come with me.”

The two-man teams run off while the rest of us continue to move further into the village. Attached to the fourth building is a smaller structure, like a carriage house, with two wooden doors partially rotted on the bottom and slanting on their hinges. Beyond the carriage house is an alley, carpeted with muddy grass and wheel ruts. The walls that connect the buildings expand into the alley as well, protecting what could be considered the backyards.

“They liked their fences,” Earl says.

“What are they trying to protect?” I respond.

“Or what are they trying to protect themselves from?”

“Who’s next up?” Lieutenant Talbott asks.

George says, “There’s me, Emil, Earl, and Frank. Emil and I can check out the backs of the buildings if you want or look into that fourth building.”

“Do the building. You’ll have better luck finding something inside than out.”

“We’ll take the church,” Earl says without being asked.

“Oh, okay.” Lieutenant Talbott’s voice rises with each word as if he’s surprised by Earl’s determination. “Let’s meet up in ten minutes. See what you can find and then come back.”

Earl and I run over to the church where we find, like everything else in Le Perir, a wall surrounding it. This wall is different. It’s taller to the point where we can only see the bell towers of the church from up close. Metal, decorative spikes span the length of the wall on its top.

“I thought that church was supposed to be inviting,” Earl says while running his hand along the wall. “They really don’t want someone to get in.”

We quietly walk around searching for a door or a gate or even an open spot to climb over. I also try to keep an eye on Earl to see where his head is. The distraction of figuring out my friend is a welcome change to listening to the machinations of my imagination and what it might conjure up behind the wall.

“How’re you feeling?” I ask.

“As well as can be expected.” He responds without looking at me. His focus remains on the wall.

‘Why won’t he look at me?’ I wonder. ‘Is he tired of me asking how he’s feeling? What else can I say to him?’

Earl stops after a few steps and turns to me. The dark circles still shade his eyes, but his smile returns or at least his smile is close to what it once was. “You don’t have to keep asking how I’m doing,” he says as if he heard my thoughts. “I appreciate your concerns, but I’m good. It’s something that I’m going to have to live with and I can’t just dwell on it.”

“I… You … Well …” I stumble over what I want to say because I don’t know what to say.

“I’m fine, Frank. Really. My head’s on straight. Let’s just stick together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He turns and then says, “Would you look at that!”

Up ahead is a spot in the wall where the stone and mortar have crumbled enough to allow us to crawl through. The church grounds are filled with flat stone monuments placed in uniform rows that circle the church like the strikers on a typewriter. Names and dates are inscribed on each stone. Mother Nature has been rough on them. The stone surfaces are puckered, edges worn, and some are broken into pieces. We see no signs of Krauts or villagers and take our time to read through several of the monuments. The oldest I find is “Beaulieu, 1711 – 1744.”

We eventually make our way to the front doors of the church where there are a few steps. We look up to the bell towers, which appear to be two large, seamless, gray stone blocks standing tall over the entire village. Unlike the gravestones, weather and time barely touched the stone surfaces. The rest of the church is comprised of smaller gray bricks, cut to perfecting point where it appears that there are no seams, or the seams are so thin that they are barely visible. Parishioners are welcomed into the church through two massive walnut colored wood doors with a carved depiction of the crucifixion and resurrection. At the base is the mound at Calvary with three crosses. The middle cross, Jesus’ cross, is centered where the two doors met so, that when opened, the cross is broken into two, representing Jesus’ break away from the awful tortures of man. Above the doors is a grand arch where a solitary figure rises with his arms outstretched, punctuated by rays extending out from his heart.

“Beautiful,” Earl says.

We struggle to open the doors at first, but once they begin to move, they open smoothly, revealing a narthex completely framed in thick beams of wood, stained in age and wisdom. Heavy warm air, smelling of candles and wine, washes upon us and memories of the Catholic Church my grandparents attended spark inside. The hours of worship and tradition all come back. At the time, as a child, I remember hating every minute. But now as an adult, I long for the safety and calm that time provided.

Everything inside the Church of Le Perir is made of wood, massive pieces of wood that don’t appear to be from trees found in the surrounding forest. For example, the pews are like any other pew one would cross in a church, but the ones in Le Perir aren’t pieced together with a seat and back and armrests and legs. The pews are chiseled out of massive tree trunks with the live edges or bark left alone on the places that were not cut out.

All cathedrals have stone pillars along the outside of the seating area that span up and into the ceiling. The Church of Le Perir has wooden pillars with massive trees whose branches spread out into the ceiling. Each trunk is easily three feet in diameter and the branches rise perfectly to match the angle of the ceiling.

“This place is a natural wonder,” I say, mouth agape as I stare.

Earl doesn’t respond and I think nothing of it. I figure he’s lost in the wonder of the craftsmanship.

“Makes sense why there are so many tree stumps outside,” I continue. “But some of these trees look too big to come from the surrounding forest. I wonder where they’re from?” I gaze at the stations of the cross, all hewn from one long piece of wood that spans the length of the church wall. “Reminds me of my grandparents’ church. It was a little different, but it has the same feel. It’s funny. They sat in the same pew every Sunday and all I ever saw was the tenth station where they strip Jesus of his garments. I always looked ahead to see the crucifixion.”

I find the tenth and eleventh stations which are bathed in red light from sunlight shining through the stained-glass windows.  

“There they are. Found them,” I say. “You ever think about how crazy it is—”

I stop because I find Earl standing before the altar with his helmet off. At first, I didn’t understand why he took his helmet off, but then I see pieces of brick and shards of wood and piles of plaster littered on the ground about him. The front few pews and pulpit are destroyed by fallen debris. Only the altar was spared, immersed in sunlight from a large hole blown into the ceiling.

I quietly join Earl.

“Makes you wonder doesn’t it,” he says. “If God’s house isn’t safe, then whose is?”

I follow his gaze toward the ceiling and through the hole to an azure sky.

“I guess this is the best place to seek forgiveness,” Earl says.

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe God gives us all a pass in times of war.”

“I doubt that. If anything, we’ve all been damned. I’ve been damned for what I’ve done.”

“You can’t think that way,” I quickly respond. “We don’t have a choice in this. We are following orders, protecting ourselves.”

“No. That’s not an excuse.”

 “Then look at it from a bigger picture. If we don’t stop them, they will continue to hurt more people. We just got here and what did we find? Disaster. Where is everyone? Where did they go? What did the Krauts do to them?” I sigh. “We are here because God has called us to help drive the devil from this world.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Why else are we here?”

He lowers his head, then says, “Pray with me.”

I take off my helmet.

“Dear Heavenly Father, protect Frank and me in this journey. Guide our hands to be merciful to those who seek mercy and unrelenting to those who justifiably need your forgiveness. Guide us to the tru—”

“Frank! Earl!” A voice interrupts. Russell stands in the doorway. “We found something!”

I start to move, but Earl stops me. He bows his head again.

“Sorry Father. Such is life in the service. Where were we? Yes. Please guide us to the truth so that we can bring Your world back from the sins of the devil. Please forgive us of our sins and have mercy on us. In Your name we pray.”

“Amen,” I say.

“Thank you.”

Outside, everyone stands by the carriage house where the wooden doors are open.

Lieutenant Talbott waves casually at us and says, “Anything noteworthy in the church?”

“No, except for a large hole in the roof above the altar,” I say.

“That’s awful.”

“What did you find?”

“Not much.” Lieutenant Talbott shakes his head.

“But we did find this,” George says, pointing to something large covered in a tarp inside the carriage house.

Roland and Surplis quickly yanked off the tarp, kicking up a dust cloud. 

“What is it?” Walt asks.

Roland and Surplis fan the dust from their faces and cough. Then, suddenly, Surplis smiles.

“Oh my god,” he says. “It’s a car.”

“That’s not any car,” Lieutenant Talbott says. “That’s a Kraut car.”