Far On The Ringing Plains

1. The Dogs of War—December 1941

1

The Dogs of War—December 1941

Johnny Strange

Johnny Strange put the paper down in front of his father. The headlines screamed at the old man.

1500 Dead in Hawaii—Congress Votes War.

Peter Strange pushed the paper aside and continued eating his oatmeal. “What does that have to do with me, Johnny?”

“What does that have to do with you? The country that gives you the freedom to be a pacifist is in a war. Thousands, maybe millions of young men will die to protect your right to sit here and ask, ‘What has that to do with me.’ Are you blind? Can’t you see what’s going on?”

“This war is the fruit of godless men who do not obey the teachings of Jesus Christ. I cannot help them have right thinking. I can only live my life as I believe I must live it and do what I must do.”

Johnny picked up the paper and folded it. “And just what will you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? That’s what I thought, Dad. Doing nothing is how you live your life. Even if it comes to the well-being of your own children.”

Peter scowled at his son. “Let’s not bring that up again. You’re like a broken record. Harold Jenkins paid his penalty and repented. We could do nothing more than welcome him back to fellowship.”

“Right, welcome him back. Meanwhile I live every day and every night with the reality of what that jerk did.” He put his face down close to Peter’s. “Jenkins messed me up, he hurt me.” Johnny’s voice took on an edge. “He tried to r**e me and you did nothing. He’s a lowlife scumbag.”

“You will not talk that way about an elder of the church.”

“Elder? The man is a sicko who does it with young boys. He lied to you. He’s still doing the same thing—he’s just being sneakier about it. He should be in jail—on death row.”

“Do not accuse if you have no proof.”

“Proof? I have proof. Ask Kenny, ask Bob, they’ll tell you. He went after them, too.”

“Harold swears that he has repented of the devil’s work in his life and is righteous before God.”

“Hogwash, Dad, pure hogwash. The man is a snake.”

“It’s your word against his.”

Johnny Strange looked at his father’s face, set in that hard, unyielding look he knew so well.

“So you would believe Jenkins over your own son, just because he’s an elder in your stinking church? You would sit and do nothing, again! You make me sick!”

Peter Strange’s mouth opened in surprise and a rebuke started on his lips, but Johnny slammed the paper down on the table.

“Don’t say a word, Dad,” he shouted. “Just shut your mouth. I’m eighteen and I’m done with you and this town and your BS bunch of hypocrites that call themselves Christians.” Johnny grabbed up the paper and pointed at the headline. “You and the rest of the church can stay here and let that pervert loose in your flock, but not me.” He leaned over his father and put his finger in Peter’s face. “You won't do anything about him, but I will, Dad.”

Peter Strange looked up at his son and his face was pale. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m joining the Marines. I’m going away to war. My bag is packed and I’m outta here. Tomorrow I’m getting on the bus down to the Recruiting Station in Idaho Falls and signing up. And you know what, Dad? I want them to teach me to kill. I want them to make me love it. And when they finish with me, I hope they send me to the worst battles where there are thousands of j**s because when I get there, I will shoot and stab and blow up every Jap I see. And when I’ve killed enough, and cut enough and blown enough j**s up and I’m hard inside, and unfeeling, I will come back to Bonners Ferry and find Harold Jenkins and beat him and cut him and stab him until he’s just a rotting piece of meat. So help me, God.”

The 1939 Chris-Craft Custom Cruiser roared across Lake Pend Oreille. Johnny Strange was pushing it as hard as it would go. The rebuilt Ford Flathead V8 was thundering, driving the wooden racer headlong. The bow crashed through the waves and the spray blew up and then back into Johnny’s face, washing the thoughts from his mind, cleansing the memory of the groping hands, the leering face.

Everyone on the lake knew Johnny was a pounder. When boaters saw him coming, they tried to get out of his way. One old guy in a Boston Whaler yelled at him and shook a fist as Johnny roared by, nearly swamping him, but Johnny was away and gone long before the man’s outraged screech could catch up to him.

Most days Johnny ran the boat up and down the lake until he was exhausted, but somehow that never flushed out the demons in his head. Today was different. He felt empty, purified somehow. Maybe it was because for once in his life Johnny Strange had gotten his father’s attention. He laughed out loud.

“The look on his face…”

Johnny made a sweeping turn as he pointed the boat back toward the far side of the lake. In ten minutes he was nosing into a quiet cove. At the end of the quiet inlet he could see the King cabin and the boathouse where Gerald King let him dock the cruiser. The Chris-Craft purred as he slid into the darkness and brought the boat up against the bumpers. There was nobody around, so he climbed out on the dock and walked past the King’s boats and up the stairs toward his Chevy. As he came around the corner of the house, he saw someone standing at the front door. It was a girl, a very nice-looking girl. She had corn silk hair that peeked out from underneath a ski cap, framing an oval face, full lips and startling green eyes. The winter coat and long pants did little to conceal her shape. She looked up, startled.

“Oh! Hi… I was waiting for the Kings. I…” She stopped in confusion, uncertainty on her face.

Johnny smiled. “Don’t be afraid. I’m Johnny Strange. Gerald lets me dock my boat here. Friend of the family and all that.”

A tiny look of relief passed over her face. “Oh, Johnny Strange. Yes, Gerald told me about you.”

“I hope he said good things.”

“He said you’re his best friend and you’re a nice guy, but sometimes you drive your boat too fast. Oh, I…” The girl’s face turned red.

“Telling secrets out of school, Miss…”

“Marjean. I’m Marjean Langston.”

“Dr. Langston’s daughter?”

“Yes, that Marjean.”

“I thought you lived back east?”

The girl paled. “I lived in Rhode Island with my mom…”—a little quiver in her voice— “…but she died, and I came to live with Dad.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Say would you like to go for a ride in my boat? She’s a beauty.”

“What about the Kings?”

“What time is it?”

The girl looked at the watch on her wrist. It was expensive looking and set with diamonds. “It’s two o’clock.”

She looked up and smiled, and Johnny Strange realized that Marjean Langston was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. It flustered him.

“The Kings rarely get here until around three on Friday. They drive over from Sandpoint after Gerald’s dad gets off work.” He pointed toward the dock. “We still have time for a little cruise.”

She hesitated. The sunlight through the pines speckled her face, and for a moment she reminded him of a fawn, poised for flight. He wondered if he frightened her. Then she smiled again, and the thought passed.

“Yes, I’d like to.”

There was an expensive-looking roadster parked in the driveway.

“You should put your things in your car, especially the watch.”

“Am I dressed warm enough?”

“You won’t freeze to death.”

“Will we be going fast?”

“As fast as you want.”

Marjean Langston sat next to Johnny as the boat ripped through the water. He looked over at her. There was a look on her face he had never seen on a girl. She looked like a wild animal. Her lips were parted, and she bared her eyeteeth like a wolf. Her hands were clenching and unclenching, and her face was alive. She threw back her head and laughed, and the sound was bells and ice.

Johnny looked up. A flock of geese made its way across the Idaho sky. The wind cut his face, and he felt more alive than he had in a long time. He laughed with her and she looked at him, held his eyes, her little wolf teeth exposed beneath her parted lips. Something in him rose, an animal gut feeling that rocketed through him, and he wondered if he could love someone in a day, in a moment.

The boat slid into the quiet and darkness of the boathouse. He clambered out and then reached down to pull her out. He lifted her easily and then they were standing face-to-face, his arms still around her, and she looked straight into his eyes and the little wolf teeth showed. Her arms went around him.

“That was wonderful, Johnny.”

“Marjean… I’m going away… to the Marines, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’m taking a bus to Idaho Falls and I won’t be back.”

“Johnny…”

Her face had the same look on it he had seen on the boat, wild and alive, and then she put her face up and he was kissing her, kissing her with all the passion in his young, strong body. Her lips parted, and she kissed him back, and then it was like she caught on fire and she was holding him so tight he couldn’t breathe. He pulled away.

“Marjean, what’s happening?”

“Nothing I don’t want to happen.”

He felt the press of her firm body against his and he pulled her back into his arms.

“You sure?”

She answered him by pulling his face down and kissing him, not just a kiss though, but a volcano of heat and passion and desire, and the strength in her arms locked him to her. They broke the kiss, and she was panting deep gasping breaths like a dog that has run too far. “Johnny, Johnny… I…”

“There’s a room at the back of the boathouse with a bed. Do you…”

Marjean blushed, but the fire was still in her breath. “Yes, Johnny, oh yes…”

Wind whipped his hair, the asphalt roaring under the wheels of his Chevy as it rushed past his open window. It was freezing outside, but he didn’t care. His suitcase was on the backseat. His birth certificate, ID and a folded piece of paper with a note from Marjean lay in a bundle on the seat beside him. He had left early in the morning, headed for Sandpoint. Johnny had not wakened his father, and he didn’t look back. He just walked out the door, down the path to the street, climbed in his car and left.

When he got to Sandpoint, he drove to Carrabello’s garage. Danny Carrabello was just opening the shop.

“Hey, Johnny, what’s up?”

“I’m joining up, Danny. I need a place to store my car.”

“Room in the back, always, my friend. Drive it in.”

He pulled in and drove to the back of the big Quonset hut. Danny walked up beside the car.

“Sure is a beauty, Johnny. Can I take her out once in a while?”

“Any time. And Danny… if I don’t come back, she’s yours.”

“So you’re joining up. What about your dad, Johnny, what about the church?”

“My dad left me a long time ago, Danny. I got no regrets—and the church?” He shook his head and laughed. “Suckers, hypocrites—I don't give a damn about them and their phony religion.”

A picture came into his mind—corn silk hair, deep green eyes, little wolf-teeth.

“There’s only one thing I regret, Danny. It’s the one thing about Idaho I won’t forget.”