World War II
I was 21
riding a bus to
New Orleans
there were many
army men
on that
bus
there were only
2
young men
not in
uniform
a red-haired
fellow and
me.
the red-haired
fellow
kept explaining
his
position to the
army
boys:
"Jesus, you've
got to
believe me, I
want to be with
you guys
but I can't
go, I've got a
bad heart!"
"that's all
right," they
told him.
I didn't need
a
confessional,
I needed a
savior.
I pulled out
my pint,
had a
nip, looked
out the
window...
it was
getting into
evening
when the bus
was
stopped
at the edge
of the
desert
by some more
soldiers
some soldiers
stood outside
as 2 entered
the bus
they heavily
trudged
along
nerve-endings
of order and
disorder
they asked
each passenger:
"where were
you
born?"
it appeared
that 9-tenths of
the bus
were born in
the
midwest
and when
my turn
came
I said,
"Pasadena,
California."
"where ya
going?"
"funeral, my
brother died."
they moved
further
down in
the bus
and
came upon
an old
man—
"where were
you
born?"
"I don't
think," the
old man
answered,
"that's any
of your
business."
"Sir, I
asked you,
'where were
you born?'"
"this is a
democracy, I
don't have
to answer
that
question."
"you son
of a bitch!"
the soldier
grabbed the
old man
by the
back of
his
coat
lifted him
from his
seat
and
they dragged
the
old man
down the
aisle
and out
the
front door
of the
bus.
the bus
stood
there
and we all
looked out
the window
as a group of
soldiers
surrounded
him
we heard:
"we're takin'
you in!"
"but I've
got my
baggage on
the
bus!"
"fuck
your
baggage!"
then a
soldier
motioned
to the bus
driver
the
bus door
closed
and the bus
drove
off.
evening
quickly became
night
everybody was
silent for a
while
then the red-
haired
fellow
started it
up
again:
"listen, I
really want
to go
to this
war, I'd
just give
anything if
I didn't have
this
bad
heart."
the bus
just kept on
going.