Things were heating up a bit by the time we got In Country. Being a door gunner in something so big it’s hard to miss was a frightful experience. But you did your job, really, we all did—good fellas and bad.
Speaking of bad, there was this one particular fella who was the bully of the unit and he had a special dislike for me, not only for me being an African American, but for me being a better shot. It just came natural too me. When they painted that bull’s eye on the mountainside I put every round into it. Something that comes that easy to a person should not entitle them to honors, but should not mark him for dislike either—at least in my way of thinking.
This fella so happened to be Italian. Being from the South, I knew not a thing of Italians, other than that they were a type of white people. This particular Italian was a Sicilian, and he was a black Italian! Why, I never would have guessed such a thing, that there were blacks among those people. He was not African in his features, but was every bit as dark as me—and could he hate. What a vicious fella he was.
Now, there so happened to be another Italian—a door gunner at that, and he was a white Italian, name of Napoli—will never forget that name. We were the best of friends. Both of these Italians were from New York.
In any case, ole Black had it out for me. He challenged me to a fight after I scored highest on the training run. It was toward the end of my tour, and I probably should have just done the time in the brig—but did not want to go out that way. So I declined to fight him. He then draws his forty-five and tells me to draw mine, which no way in hell were I fool enough to do that. It seemed, however, that he wanted himself a court martial, so he pressed the muzzle under my chin!
Napoli then stepped up between us and directed the muzzle at himself, saying, “You will have to kill me and you know what that means.”
My word, never did I see such a bolt of fear strike through a man—as if the Devil himself held him down and breathed death into his lungs. That man turned as pale as a man of his parentage was likely to turn, and never did he approach me again.
We had certain latitude, depending on factors to do with performance and time In Country, as to what flight we would go on. I had been up there pulling out Marines and had my glasses shot off, so I told Napoli, "Don’t take that run, take another."
He thanked me, and said, “Jake, I’ll be getting out two weeks after you. Why don’t you come to New York?”
“What would I do in New York,” I inquired. “How would I make a living?”
He responded matter-of-factly enough, “You will just hang around with me. My father is an important man. You will be well taken care of.”
I often wondered what might have happened if I had taken his offer, understanding what kind of man his father most likely was. But, when I came home, the soul dropped out of me. I turned down offers to go to college, to play pro ball, became a drifter within my own mind. I never registered for the PTSD like so many fellas did. It did not seem right somehow. It might be that I had Post Traumatic Stress, but I felt that collecting money for it would diminish me even further, impinge upon my humanity.
I survived.
I’m whole.
I still feel like a man, even on these legs that have betrayed me.
It has been a pleasure.
As the ski-pro from Colorado and the wrestler from Baltimore came nose to nose in their screaming match over who was the best all-time Major League Baseball catcher, Jake walked crookedly by with the aid of his mahogany cane and tipped his leather fedora to the bartender, White Howard, who screamed into the ceiling, “One by one, the sane leave me to my fate!”
I was next for the door as the snow came down.
I really enjoy this mini-series, James. Is this material a part of a new book, or just odd bits?
Jake's stuff is going into numerous books. the first part of this interview is in No B.S. Boxing. These bits go into Neanderthal resistance and A Dread Grace respectively, where they will serve illustrative purposes. If you ever wonder what book something is going into, look at the tabs at the top right. Most of these tabs serve as book building templates.
I'm glad you like it.
Interviewing real people was what I really got hooked on when doing the violence research.