Corporal Boskin's Cold Cold War by Boskin Joseph;

Author:Boskin, Joseph;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Syracuse University Press
Published: 2021-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

High Noon

Almost no work was accomplished that morning. Foreboding mixed with bewilderment. If not hurt or dead, Gadget was certainly up for disciplinary action. Top-secret missions were not taken lightly by the military, especially with the MIGs increasing their surveillance flights and Moscow Molly haranguing us. By pulling the entire outfit into its orbit, the intensity of the bet had obviously rankled the C.O.

The clock ticked slowly down, as it did for Gary Cooper in High Noon, only no vengeful Russians were due at the compound. Only tubs of ice cream, which did not seem possible short of a miracle.

At noon, the air base’s siren sounded as it did every day. We all moved outside to scan the main road that curved at an almost ninety-degree angle into the camp. Nothing.

Then came the faint grating sounds of vehicles along the hard pebbled road. The sounds grew larger. Abruptly rounding the corner into the compound came several loader trucks bearing air force insignias. Air force vehicles??

And there in the lead vehicle sat Gadget grinning from ear-to-ear. Wide-eyed and speechless, we all stood fixed in place. As the first truck headed hell bent for the mess hall, the window opened and Gadget leaned half-way out, shouting, “You fuckers! Pay up, pay up!”

Only our heads and eyes moved as the trucks whizzed by.

Like a herd of wildebeest, we suddenly broke into a run after the trucks, yelping and whooping. “That unbelievable bastard,” exclaimed Dave admiringly, “he pulled it off after all. Now he’ll be impossible to live with. How in the world did he do it?”

He was already standing on a chair behind a small table in front of the mess hall. His round, pool ball head bobbed back and forth. “Hey, what’ve we got here!? It sure is good to see you guys but I don’t think you’re too happy to see me! Nah! But it’s time to wrap this up. Yeah! All right, line up with your bucks. Then go inside and you can have your choice of any—that’s right, you heard me you shits—any of five, count ’em, five flavors to choose from! And don’t ask me how!! I ain’t tellin’ or talkin’—unless,” he snickered, “except maybe for another fiver. You can have one scoop, hear—as large you want!”

Inside the mess hall were about twenty small containers with various flavors. We each filled our bowl to the brim and walked out into the Arctic sunshine, savoring the most delicious ice cream, ever. Some of Gadget’s favorite boys scrounged seconds. Rich got away with another bowlful.

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