Well, it was a long time ago, and there was a lot of Scotch involved.
I have no idea what the man's real name was. From the next morning
on, my friend and I referred to him as Billy Pilgrim and his wife as
Montana Wildhack. The woman was a good bit younger than he was, but
not so young as to be classified a trophy wife. She didn't say much,
and I spent a lot of time looking at her without trying to be
obvious. I do believe in retrospect she was aware of her charms, and
enjoyed the clandestine attention.
Truth is, after 25 years I'm a bit sketchy on details. Our Billy
confirmed stories about the inhumanity of the German guards, and I
think he told us there was a nice one who slipped them some schnapps
once. He confirmed at least the gist of the Vonnegut story about the
POW executed for pocketing a ceramic figurine he'd found in the
rubble. Apparently the kind of saturation bombing going on over
Germany at the time, especially in the aftermath of the Dresden
firebombing, was such that the Germans were not in the best of moods
concerning their American prisoners, and beatings, killings and such
were not uncommon. Nor was there anyone around to compel humane
treatment. It was late in the war and Nazi Germany was coming apart
at the seams. I just can't remember if our Billy knew Vonnegut, who
was a POW in Dresden, too. Not sure how many POWs were there, or what
kind of contact they had, but I don't remember specific stories about
Kurt. My friend did ask if Slaughterhouse Five pretty well captured
it, and the answer basically was yes, though it's hard to say whether
our Billy bore the depth of anger Vonnegut bears to this day. But
then he might have just kept it to himself so as not to sound
unpatriotic.
He said every day he woke up was a really good day, and the same was
true every night that he got to go to sleep. I'm thinking he also was
pretty fatalistic about survival, what with the Germans not being all
that happy with them, and the Allies pounding hell out of everything
they could lock their bombsights on. And don't forget the Russians
were closing in from the East, and a lot of people, including their
allies, were nervous about what Russian arrival would bring. I
remember thinking about the nights I spent dodging Russian 122mm
rockets in I Corps and realized there wasn't much similarity between
saturation bombing and the occasional Katusha dropping in. I should
stress, too, that he wasn't all that talkative, that is, he wasn't
spinning yarns like a pro. We were asking questions and he was
answering them, and adding a bit here and there. He wasn't exactly
reluctant, but he wasn't garrulous, either.
It was late fall, and pretty chilly. Very clear, with lots of stars.
I don't think there was any moon to speak of. We had a big fire
going, and my friend had brought some pretty good Scotch. Billy had
some brandy, I think, and Montana was partial to that. I do remember
that she occasionally asked questions about us, and what we did out
in the real world, but at the time the world we had come from didn't
seem all that real. What was real was Inadu Knob (fluidity
notwithstanding). That said, when she talked to us I could look at
her without being surreptitious, and that was a genuine pleasure.
Damn, I was positively weak-kneed in her presence, and just shy of
blithering idiot status. I would have licked the trail sweat off the
bottom of her bare feet if she had asked. (She didn't.)
In hindsight, I'd say it was one of those odd little moments when a
few humans come together and really connect on a subatomic level. I
may just be making it up now, but I think Billy was a little bit here
and a little bit there. I suspect he left quite a bit of himself in
Dresden. I know I sure as hell would have. They were quite a pair.
One thing I do remember clearly is that they called Florida home, but
where traveling around the country in a small RV. And I seem to
recall that they weren't on any schedule, and didn't have any
particular plans where or when they were going next. We talked some
about places we'd been hiking, such as Grand Teton and Yellowstone,
and they were on Billy and Montana's list, but not until after the
impending winter. As I think about it now, I wonder how much being a
POW involved with Dresden had to do with his itinerant nature. It's
harder to hit a moving target, y'know?
But then there's always the chance that he was just my father's
generation's version of the accomplished bullshit artist, and had
never been close to Dresden, Maybe a supply clerk at Fort Dix,
y'know? But I don't think so. There was something about him that
really made an impression on me, and the impression has lasted all
these years, whereas most of the actual details of the conversation
have long disappeared from memory.
--Bob
I'm going to cc this to my friend and if he's got any recollections
to add, I'll pass them along.
On Jan 24, 2007, at 3:27 PM, Richard Lovison wrote:
>
> Bob Whitmire wrote:
>> Well, I suppose it could be said at the time that my sense of reality
>> was somewhat fluid. <g>
>
> Was it due to the Scotch or the nature of the conversation? <g>
> Come on
> Bob, that was a favorite book of mine and probably many others on the
> list. Tell us the story of the conversation... you have my
> attention. :)
>
> Richard L
>
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