Our Simple Gifts by Owen Parry

Author:Owen Parry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

WHEN GUS RETURNED to the camp, a half dozen men from his platoon were brewing coffee around a cooking fire. Corporal Wilson sat among them.

“Ain’t he just the sorriest looking soldier in this army or any other?” the corporal asked before Gus could make it past. His voice longed to wound. “Hey, Dutch. What were you up to down by the water there?”

“Nichts,” Gus said. “Nothing. I am only thinking.”

Corporal Wilson grinned. “I bet I know just what you were thinking, too.” He looked around at the fire-warmed faces. “Know what old Gus was thinking, boys? He was looking on out over those waves and wishing he never crossed ’em. Wishing he was back over there in Dutch-land, with a big, fat gal to warm him up and no Rebels looking to put him out of his misery.”

“Aw, let him be,” Private McClean said, with a glance toward Gus. “He was friendly with Billy. Let him be for one day, at least.”

The corporal twisted his mouth into a smile that pronounced his authority over others. “It’s just every time I see him, old Dutch looks less like a soldier. I’m ashamed to turn out on parade with him.” He accepted a pour of coffee from the communal pot. “Where you off to now, Dutchman?”

McClean lifted the pot toward Gus, offering him some, but Gus shook his head.

“I go over to the sutler now. To buy something, I think.”

Corporal Wilson snickered. “Going to talk some Dutch with that damned Jew, ain’t that right? I’d like to know what you and that fellow are up to. Probably Reb spies, the both of you.”

“Bring me back a chaw, would you, Gus?” McClean asked. “I’ll settle later.”

As Gus walked off along the row of tents with their winter collars of wood, he heard the corporal say, “Yes, sir. Old Gus wishes he never had crossed that ocean down there. He’s wishing he was back over there where life’s all beer and sausages.”

The corporal was wrong.

Gus knew he would never look like a picture-book soldier. He was short and far from handsome, and no amount of campaigning seemed to reduce the little lump of belly that stretched out his uniform. He recognized that he was not the sort of man who would inspire others on the field of battle. But he also had learned that he could make himself stand and fight when others ran away, as Corporal Wilson had run at White Oak Swamp, with a look of mortal terror in his eyes. And Gus knew, as well, that Wilson would never forgive him for seeing that look and for not running himself. As for wishing himself back in Germany, it was only the small things he missed now and then. He had never regretted coming to America, not for a single day, not even as he lay among the wounded in the Virginia barnyard that had served as a hospital. And though he did not believe that war was ever good, he had grown convinced that war was sometimes necessary.

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