War Casualties

War Casualties 

     Riley and Willa Sue walk out of the Chicago building where Oprah’s show happens, and they hail a taxi. As Willa Sue climbs into the back seat, Riley feels a hand from behind grab his right shoulder and yank him backward. Riley turns with the yank and his right arm and hand rise up and rotate over the hand and arm of a white man with a crew cut headed downward onto his knees with a surprised look on his face, as Riley’s left hand grabs the man’s left ear and gives it a not entirely gentle downward tug.  

     “Ow, that hurts like hell!” Crew Cut yells. 

     “If I wanted to hurt you like hell, I would have punched your nose with my fist,” Riley says. 

     Silence. 

    “What’s up with you, Mister?” 

     Crew Cut says nothing. 

     “I asked you a question, Sir.” 

     Crew Cut still says nothing. 

     Riley twists Crew Cut’s ear a bit harder. 

     “Fuck, ow!!!” 

     “I asked you a question, Sir.” 

     “My father was killed in Vietnam, defending America from communists.” 

     Riley releases the man’s ear and raises him up to his feet and says, “I’m really sorry for your loss. My older brother was killed in Vietnam. My parents were devastated and never got over it. I was devastated and I’m not sure I ever got over that war. A lot of people never got over that war.” 

     “That’s true,,” Crew Cut says. 

     “What’s your name?” Riley asks. 

     “Jeff, Jeff Skinner.” 

     “I guess you know who I am?” 

     “Lots of people know who you are, Riley Strange.”  

     “Yeah, I suppose we can thank Oprah and Governor Jeb Bush and his president brother for that. Did you watch Willa Sue and me on Oprah a little while ago?” 

     “Yes.” 

     “So, you heard me tell Oprah that President Bush went AWOL from the Alabama National Guard during the Vietnam war, and he got away with it? 

     “Yes.” 

     “Do you know how President Bush got into the Alabama National Guard in the first place, so that he would not have to go to Vietnam? 

     “No.” 

     “His important daddy knew people in high places, who got him into the Alabama National Guard.” 

     Silence. 

     “So, my question to you, Jeff, is why did you come at me like that, instead of going to Washington D.C. and having it out with President Bush, whose daddy, when he was president, did things that caused 9/11?” 

      Silence. 

      A crowd has gathered around Riley and Jeff. 

      A Chicago city policeman walks up and watches. 

      A pretty woman in a business suite writes on a notepad. 

      A fiftyish man in a beige business suit says, “Mr. Strange, we don’t need traitors like you in America!” 

      “So, do you agree President Bush should move to Vietnam.” 

      A thirty-ish woman in a pants suit shouts, "Mr. Strange, like the man said, we don't need traitors like you in America!” 

      “How do you figure I”m a traitor, M'am? 

      “Because of what you say about the Vietnam war.” 

      “Perhaps you should look up the definition of traitor, M'am.” 

      The pretty woman in a business suit taking notes catches Riley's eye, nods, smiles. 

       A man in a black business suit says, “You should have stayed in prison, Mr. Strange.” 

      All of the critics are white. Riley is white. The pretty woman taking notes is white. The policeman is black. 

      Riley says, “Hey, folks, America is a free country, freedom of speech is the bedrock of our democracy, and you are free to state your opinions about me. But, you are not free to lay hands on me like Jeff did. Under the law, every person in America has a right to defend himself, or herself, from physical assault. That’s what I did with Jeff. Then, I tried to have a conversation with him, which some of you rudely interrupted, as if your mommas didn’t teach you any manners. Now I’m going to finish having my conversation with this Vietnam War vet, while a Chicago police officer stands by, if that’s okay with him.” 

     The police officer nods to Riley. 

     Riley turns around and looks at Mary Lou, who is climbing out of the taxi. She nods to Riley and walks to and stands beside him, figuring she might know what is coming next. 

     The taxi driver is reporting all of this to his dispatcher, who reports it to her supervisor, who calls the Chicago Tribune, which dispatches a news crew. 

     The pretty woman taking notes is a feminist, and a blogger. Her blog is called, Karma’s A Bitch. Its masthead is, "The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.' 

     Riley looks at Jeff, says, “Not long after I was put in prison, a new inmate came in who weighed about 350 pounds and his face looked just like my dead brother Jack’s face. It freaked me out, about like when I first met Willa Sue, who weighed about 300 pounds and her face looked just like the face of the woman I had loved more than myself, Mary Lou Snow, who had gone and got herself killed in an automobile wreck during a road trip I had tried my best to talk her out of taking. I went batshit insane after Mary Lou left, and but for God and Willa Sue, I probably would be dead by now and you would never have heard of me.” 

     Riley pauses, closes his eyes, opens them, says, “That man who came into the prison was named Jeff Wilkins. He lost his father in Vietnam. His mother killed herself. His life went to hell and put him in the same prison I was put in for saving Willa Sue from a hell worse than you or I could ever begin to imagine. So, I figured God had brought Jeff Wilkins to me, for me to try to help him with the hell inside of and all around him. I set out to do that, but Jeff didn’t want help. He wanted to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. He’s still in that prison, wanting to die, because of what Vietnam did to his father and to his mother and to him.” 

     Jeff Stinson says, “Shit happens in war.” 

     Riley nods, says, “That’s true, but look back from now to that war and how it turned out. America lost. Did Vietnam become a communist threat to America? No. Vietnam got on with its own life, and it has not threatened any country since that war. Can the same be said of America?” 

     Jeff Stinson says nothing. 

     Riley sighs, says, “Your and my Vietnam war draft dodger president is going to send American boys to die overseas. He’s not going to war with them. His family isn’t going to war and be shot at and maybe wounded, maimed, killed, or end up all crazy inside.  

    Dick Cheney was the CEO of Haliburton Industries before he became President Bush's vice-president. Haliburton, among other things, is heavy into oil and construction. Haliburton will make a lot of money off a new war, or wars. Other big American companies will make a lot of money off a new war, or wars.  

     That Florida prison I was in had Vietnam war veteran inmates. Some of the white veterans feel like you do about Vietnam. Some of them feel like I feel about Vietnam. All the black veteran inmates resent that war. They know Dr. Martin Luther King and Malcom X were killed because they opposed the Vietnam war as a rich white man’s war for corporate profits. They felt when they were in Vietnam like they were picking white men’s cotton, like their ancestors had done. 

     Riley extends his right hand to Jeff Stinson for a handshake. Jeff shakes Riley’s hand.  

     “I feel for you, Jeff, and I hope things go well for you. Willa Sue and I now have a plane to catch back to Jacksonville, Florida, to try and figure out what we are going to do next.”