Tom's Treasure

CHAPTER FOUR

  Tom chuckled as they walked back to the park bench and sat down. "Yeah, it's a doozey alright. Just misses reaching my shoulder by a few inches. I have another one that reaches from my right hip up to the top of my chest. It ends right where I put my hand over my heart to say the pledge to the flag. I need a mirror to see them but I have a couple of burn marks on my back, too. Pretty scary, ain't it?" Tom asked with a kind smile.

  Arthur's eyes grew wider and wider as he stared at Mr. Tom in awe. "What happened?" he asked softly. "Did you get in a car accident or something? My grandparents got killed in a car accident back when I was two years old. Mama and Daddy said it was gruesome."

  Tom put his left arm on the top rail of the park bench and crossed his legs and began to explain. "Let's just say that I served in the Army and I was behind enemy lines," then Tom paused to choose the right words and continued, "and I was doing what I had promised God and the United States Army that I would do." Tom looked at Arthur very seriously as he continued, "You see, I swore to them both that I would faithfully serve my country and defend it from any enemy. If I expect God to keep His Word to me, then I have to be faithful to keep my word. Sometimes that means doing hard stuff. Just like Jesus did."

  Arthur’s eyes grew wider than wide as the words he just heard began to come alive in his mind. Goose bumps began to rise up on his arm. A real honest-to-goodness war hero was right here on the park bench with him. He would have never thought in a million years that he would be sitting on the same park bench with a war hero. He had actually touched a war hero. How many of the other guys at school had ever even seen one.......and he..... Arthur Hollis..... not only knew one, but had actually sat down on a park bench and touched and talked to one.......almost like they were family.

  Wh-o-o-a! Wait 'til the gang hears about this. Just thinking about it made Arthur so excited, that he was almost beside himself. He stammered, "You....actually..fought.....I mean, you were where the guns were exploded....gosh, and the bombs shot..that can’t be right….I mean. What do I mean? Holy, moley. Hey, maybe you know Frank Runyon. He was in Vietnam, too."

  The scarred veteran stared at Arthur and chuckled. Then the chuckle turned into a small laugh. Then Tom pulled his arms across his stomach and bent over. Throughout half of the park an old soldier's laugh was heard. As people turned to see who was laughing, they saw a normally straight-backed man bent over with his head almost between his knees laughing one of those contagious belly laughs. He would sit up straight only long enough to catch his breath. Then, he would slap his knees with his hands and laugh all over again.

  Everyone in earshot chuckled. Some came closer to the park bench to see an almost hysterical old man and a wide-eyed, chuckling eleven-year-old sitting together. As a small amused crowd gathered, Tom pulled himself together to explain to the crowd, "He thinks I fought in Vietnam," and then started laughing again. All the men close by laughed, too.

  Arthur just looked around, still chuckling but wondering what in the world he said that could have been so funny.

  "You owe him a Coke for that one," someone called.

  "No you don't," yelled another voice, "you owe him two."

  Several "Yeahs" were heard.

  Tom had to stand up just to catch his breath. Arthur got up and stood beside him just in case he needed to keep Tom from falling over. However, Arthur was beginning to giggle so hard it would be anyone’s guess as to who would fall first.

  Frank and Bobby came over to shake his hand and exchange their military experiences with him. "I'm Frank Runyon," one said as he extended his hand. "Vietnam, 1969 and 1971. 1st Infantry."

  Tom shook his hand, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Tom Baxter, 6th Ranger Battalion, behind the lines in Japan." Then with a smile he looked at Arthur and stated, "That was in World War 2, my boy."

  The others laughed again as Arthur sheepishly replied, "O-o-ps. I guess I did make a mistake."

  "That's OK," chimed in a young gentleman with a baby in his arms. "Hi, I'm Bobby Holmes. I'm a Lieutenant on the police force here. I served in Iraq." Then he held up his baby and continued, "And this is little Chauncey, a future brigadier general in the Army." Of course, everyone chuckled and little Chauncey smiled at all the attention.

  Lt. Holmes looked down at Arthur and then to Tom. In mock authority he said, "Capt. Baxter, sir, is this young man bothering you? If he is, I know his daddy and the sergeant at the jail. I can get him a good whipping or 30 days in jail."

  Arthur looked at Lt. Holmes then up at Tom, "I'm not bothering you, am I, Capt. Tom?"

  Tom replied, "It’s Sgt. Tom, and if you were a bother, you would be the most pleasant bother I have ever had."

  Arthur blushed and giggled while the others just laughed.

  "Besides that," interrupted Frank, "I'm the best lawyer in town, and not only would I get you off the hook, I would help you sue the city for 17 thousand quadzillions of dollars for publicly embarrassing this fine football legend, Arthur.........whatever his name is."

  "It's Hollis, sir," Arthur said and there he went giggling again as he stood just a little bit closer to Tom.

  Lt. Holmes pretended to be upset, but with a smile on his face, he went on, "Yeah, that's just like you Runyons, you bunch of fast-talking lawyers. Always want to start something."

  Frank answered, "Oh, yeah? But we're not as bad as you bunch of Holmeses. Why there's been a Holmes sitting in the mayor's seat for over 150 years."

  Lt. Holmes retorted, "And they say that politicians stretch the truth. Why Elmhust didn't become an official city until 1874. That was only 130 years ago."

  Frank thought a minute and then said, "You know, Lieutenant, you've got a good point. It doesn't amount to much, but you've got a good point."

  They both laughed and punched at each other. Tom looked at them and then posed the question, "You are right. Elmhurst became the official name in 1874. But, do either of you know what the original name of the city was and for whom and why the city was named Elmhurst?"

  The two of them got quiet and looked at each other. They shrugged their shoulders and looked kind of sheepishly at Tom. "You've got us," Frank said. "Obviously, you know."

  Fred Lee felt that the time was right for him to make himself known. This Tom Baxter, if that is who he really is, knew an awful lot about the history of their fair city. As a matter of fact, he knew more than the average citizen did. Mr. Baxter proved that very handily just now.

  Fred had to find out. If this stranger is his old friend, why did he change his name? Where had he been all of this time? The most curious thing on Fred’s mind was….if he wasn’t killed in action as the Army had reported, where had he been and why?

  He approached and said to Tom. "Correct me if I'm wrong. Before it was named Elmhurst, it used to be known as.....," he smiled as he continued, "Dandridge Forks." He watched the stranger closely to see if there would be any kind of tell-tale flinch from him. There was none that Fred could see, not at this moment, anyway.

  Everyone looked at Tom who was calmly nodding his head. The small man continued, "It was named Elmhurst after Elmer Dandridge, who first settled in this area about a mile away from here where this road forks." He stepped up to Tom, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. "Fred Lee, Mr………Baxter I believe it was? Eighth Air Force, London, England, WW2. My official title here is the property appraiser. My unofficial title is the town historian."

  The two men locked eyes for a moment. Tom came to Elmhurst thinking that most of the people he knew had either passed on or were in a nursing home somewhere. He never expected that one of the most knowledgeable men in the city would be one of the guys he used to run the streets of Elmhurst with. Could God be bringing them together so that Tom could solve the lonely puzzle of his life? He had no way of knowing for sure. All he could do was think a short prayer to God, 'Father, do what You need to do. You know I’m Yours.'

  Bobby looked at Frank and winked as he said, "Yeah, Fred here knows everything there is to know about El
mhurst."

  Frank caught on and added, "That's right. Of course, you know how old timers are. If they can't remember something they just make it up as they go along." That brought a big laugh from Frank and Bobby.

  Tom drawled, "Say...Uh...Mr. Town Historian. I remember catching a Greyhound bus here in 1942 to take me to the Army Depot so I could join. I came back around 1954 just to see it again. This town had meandering streets. There used to be a whole bunch of big, beautiful oak trees around here somewhere. There was a nice little stream running by them. It was a beautiful place. But now, 50 years later, all the streets are changed, their names are changed, big oak trees are down. Whose fault is that?"

  Fred looked over at Frank and Bobby and answered, "You boys want to 'fess up to the sins of your fathers? How about telling him whose dad it was that came up with the idea of changing Elmhurst into a modern city? H-m-m-m-m, and which father was it that declared he had the idea on how to fund it with all the tax dollars from the wild influx of businesses that we would have flocking to our very doorsteps? Or should I just step out of the way and let Tom whip you?"

  Bobby and Frank looked at each other and chuckled, “No offense, Tom, but you couldn’t catch either of us even if you do have those white tennis shoes on. What’s a man of your age doing wearing runner styled tennis shoes anyway?”

  Arthur chimed in, “Yeah, Mr. Tom. I’ve been wondering about that, too. Why ARE you wearing white tennis shoes?”

  With a smile playing across his lips and a twinkle in his eye, Tom set his right foot on the seat of the bench. “You BOYS need to take a better look at these…….government issued tennis shoes,” he suggested.

  Frank was astonished as he took a closer look. “Oh, man, I’m sorry, Tom,” he said as he recognized them. He looked up at his friend and continued to explain, “Bobby, you remember Herman Hoosier? The guy at the gun show we met last month. He had on a pair just about like these.” His eyes got a little glassy as he continued with a little softer voice, “I remember the day that he stepped too close to a land mine in ‘Nam. That’s a pair of specially enhanced shoes for vets who have had extensive foot and lower leg surgery.”

  Tom raised up his pants leg and pulled down his sock to give everyone a look at the scars from the operations he had been through. Tom pointed to an exceptionally ugly scar that looked like it ran up his leg. “That one goes to within two inches of my knee,” he said. “Something at the time of the explosion tore through my calf. When the doctors finally got a hold of it, they figured the force of the blast must have knocked my ankle bones out of joint. But, they’re not quite sure.” He pointed at various places around his ankle and continued, “They had to do several little surgeries to get it as good as it is right now. Kinda like, do a surgery, let it heal. Do another surgery and let that one heal. Then, they got to a point to where they did all that they could.”

  He put his pants leg down and set his foot back on the ground. It was his way of saying that the show was over. He did not want to get into anything else.

  Arthur could hardly take it all in. He had stood there with his mouth open and had stared at Tom’s scars. In the softest voice he had spoken with in ages he stated, “Gosh, Mr…..I mean Sgt. Tom, you’ve got scars on your arms and legs and ankles. You’ve got burn scars on your back.” Arthur felt a little weak and had to sit down before he could finish by asking, “What happened?” But as his eleven-year-old mind began to grasp the magnitude of the injuries, the only way he could ask the question of his heart was, “Why didn’t you die?”

  Fred interjected and tried to defend Tom, “Uh….Arthur, maybe he doesn’t feel like…..uh…..”

  Tom stopped him by putting his hand on Fred’s shoulder and replying, “It’s OK, Fred.” Gently, he sat down beside his awestruck new friend.

  Frank and Bobby realized the tenderness of the subject and decided to leave Tom and Arthur alone. They raised their hands as a silent ‘Good-by’ and nodded at Fred. He nodded back and mouthed an, “OK.”

  Tom took a deep breath. He looked into Arthur’s eyes and saw a thousand questions that Arthur did not have answers for. He raised his weathered hand and gently ran his fingers through a tangle of hair on Arthur’s head. In that brief moment, a connection was made.

  Tom knew why he had come back to his home town. He only thought that he wanted to tie up some loose ends that had been bothering him for fifty years. And, yes, that still might happen. But, right now, he knew he was on an assignment from his Master, Jesus Christ. The events of that fateful day in the middle of the Tagalog meeting house became vivid once again as he remembered the promise he had made to Him. Anyone, anytime and anywhere. Tom was in Elmhurst for as long as Jesus wanted him to stay.

  Boldly, Tom opened up with a question, “Arthur, do you know Jesus Christ as your personal savior?”

  Arthur shook his head ‘yes’ and explained, “Last year, at summer camp, I gave my life to Him and was baptized.”

  “Good,” Tom said. He moved his hand from Arthur’s head to his shoulder and continued, “Then you know what I mean when I say that God wanted Jesus to die when everybody else wanted Him to live, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Arthur answered. “God had a purpose in Jesus dying. He died for my sins and yours, and everybody else’s.”

  Tom sighed before he went on, “The best way that I can explain it is this. Just like God wanted Jesus to die when it looked like He should have lived, God must have wanted me to live, when by all rights, I should have died. And, Arthur, I should have died in that explosion or in a remote village in the Philippines.”

  He placed his hands on his knees and began rubbing them as he continued, “During all that awful pain that I went through, and the operations I went through, I even asked to die. But, He kept me alive for a purpose.” For emphasis, he patted Arthur’s knee and finished with a smile, “And I am bound and determined to do what Jesus says.”

  With an impish grin, Arthur framed his mouth with his hands, turned his head to the side and said in his deepest voice, “Tom Baxter, you are to stay in Elmhurst and teach Arthur some Ninja stuff.” Arthur gave it his best try, but the last three words giggled out of him so bad that he almost fell off of the park bench.

  Tom looked at Fred in surprise. The quickness of Arthur’s wit had him thoroughly befuddled. In his lifetime, he had seen some strange behavior in boys, but nothing like this. He changed from solemnly worried to hilariously funny within seconds. Slowly, Tom held his hands out, shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What……?”

  “Oh, Tom, don’t worry about it,” Fred assured him. “He comes by it quite honestly. He gets it from his mother.”

  “Mother!“ It hit Arthur like a ton of bricks. His face turned white, his eyes got wide and his mouth dropped open. “O-o-h-h my go-o-o-o-o-sh,” he cried out in disbelief. It might have been fear or just pure adrenalin, but, Arthur went from sitting on the bench to standing on it in what seemed like a millisecond. Standing on it? It was more like trembling on it.

  “I forgot that I told Mom that I would be home right after practice,” he unceremoniously blurted out. Instead of jumping down and running around the bench, Arthur vaulted over the back and tore out for his home while yelling, “I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta go.”

  It’s a good thing that Tom still had quick reflexes. He ducked just in time to keep from getting hit by Arthur’s shoes. As he stood up to brush the dirt left behind by the eleven-year-old tornado, he chuckled his exclamation, “Holy Moses at the burning bush. I hope his mama doesn’t tan his hide for being a bit late.”

  A small chill ran through Tom as he realized what he said. For a moment, the smile left his face. Quickly he brought it back and asked Fred, “Is he always like that or is his mother that strict?” However, Tom could tell from the knowing look on Fred’s face that he had made a serious fax pas. He instantly went back to work on his clothes as if he were meticulous about how they looked.

  Fred’s tone of voice changed as he began to
answer his question. He began by speaking in slow deliberate tones, knowing that he would be conveying to Tom a different kind of message as well. “No-o-o-o,” he started, “his mother is not that strict. And, yes, Arthur is pretty much like that all of the time. I wouldn’t call him hyper, he’s just dead set in pleasing his mother. They have a fantastic relationship. Olivia and Ryan are great parents. You ought to make plans to meet them if you plan on spending any time in our fair city.”

  “Well, I had originally planned….” Tom started but got cut off by an irritated Fred Lee.

  “Tom Dandridge is the only person I have ever heard use that phrase,” he said very stiffly.

  Tom stopped messing with his clothes and looked at Fred dead in the eyes and groped for the right words to speak. Bitingly he replied, “Yes, I knew Dandridge. We fought in the same outfit that was given orders to rescue 525 prisoners of war at the Japanese POW camp at Cabanatuan in the Philippines. Some guerillas had radioed to us the positions of a couple of the Japanese ammo sheds at the back of the camp. They told us that only two soldiers guarded them. Everybody else had orders to dig in deep and persevere.

  “Several of us volunteered to sneak into the camp and blow up the sheds as a diversion for the attack. With the info the guerillas gave us, it sounded like an easy job. Just sneak in there, set some timed explosives and get out. What we didn’t know was that one of the guards was sleeping in the shed while the other guarded.

  “Unfortunately, Dandridge stepped on the guy and woke him up. The other soldier came running in. Shots were fired by all three and then there was an explosion and a pretty big fire. When the search teams came looking for bodies and survivors, all they found was a few pieces of a human body. Nobody could say for certain that any of the body parts belonged to Dandridge.”

  Tom’s voice and physical mannerisms changed as he talked. He looked away from Fred instead of looking at him. His eyes played back and forth. His voice hardened. His hands shook. Fred recognized the signs of emotional trauma still lingering around in him. He knew that there must be a lot still bothering him. However, this park was not the right place to try to get him to come clean. And, from the sound of his voice it was not the time, either. Fred remained silent. He had no idea of what to say next.

  Tom thought, ‘This is just not the way I thought things would unravel. I guess I wanted to be in control of when and where and what. What. I guess that’s it. I don’t know what. Wait. My military ID. That should tell him two things about me if he notices it. If he doesn’t, then I guess that God has something else in mind.” Tom smiled to break the tension, reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open to show Fred his ID. “I’m sorry, Fred. You deserve more info about me than that. Here’s my ID.”

  Fred looked at it for a moment and then reached out for it. Gently he turned it so he could look at it in the light. Like a doctor examining his patient he grunted, “H-m-m-m-m.” Then, after turning it another way to let the light catch it better, “Uh-huh. That tells me all I need to know. You are Tom Baxter, all right. In my Army days in the Intelligence branch, I saw enough buggered up ID’s to know the difference between a real one and a fake one.”

  Then, he smiled as he apologized, “Please forgive me for being so forward.” Then he softened his voice in hopes he was sending a coded message also, “You see, Tom Dandridge was one of my best friends all through school.” He chuckled as he continued, “We got into quite a few bits of mischief together. I’ll…………always have fond memories of him. No matter what.”

  An impulse. That’s the best way to explain it. It was an impulse. Tom came to realize that it was more than an impulse. The New Testament called it an unction. Before he put his wallet back in his jeans hip pocket, he opened it and pulled out a business card. He held it in his left hand and flipped it nervously as he put his wallet up. It was Tom’s turn to come up with a grin that gave the impression that something funny was going to come next. “Does the name General Horace Bennett strike fear into your soul?” he asked.

  With a knowing chuckle Fred answered, “You mean ole War Horace Bennett?”

  “Yep, the same,” continued Tom. “And, by the way. That is the moniker that his teen-age son, Charles, gave to him.”

  “You’re kiddin’?”

  “Nope. He blurted it out in front of a bunch of non-coms at one of the Christmas parties he used to give.”

  “You don’t say? Yes, I knew him only too well. Just like almost everybody else that served under his command, I’ve had the occasion to come in front of those pummeling ‘hooves’ of his a time or two,” Fred admitted with a chuckle.

  Tom held the card up for Fred to see as he explained, “Gen. Bennett commanded our operation and knew Tom Dandridge very well.” Without blinking, Tom held his gaze solidly into Fred’s eyes as he spoke. “Tom Dandridge died on those mountains. He left behind a wife and son that he loved more than life itself.”

  He paused and gathered his emotions before he finished. “If there was any way for Tom to have worked situations out any differently than how they happened, I promise you that Tom Dandridge would have done it.” He held out the card for Fred to take, and finished, “Old War Horace has gone on, now. But, his son, Gen. Charles E. Bennett knows everything there is to know about Tom Dandridge. It might be worth giving him a call if you are really interested.”

  Fred slowly took the card, looked at it and placed it in his shirt pocket. “I just might do that someday, but, not today. I would like to buy my new friend, Tom Baxter, a cup of the best coffee this side of those European coffee houses I used to roam. How ’bout it?”

  “Free coffee?” he asked with a smile, “Why, it’s in the Uniform Code of Military Justice that a soldier HAS to accept a free cup of coffee when it’s offered.”

  Fred put his arm around Tom’s shoulders and the two of them started on their journey to Ed’s bakery across the street as he agreed, “You know, I was just reading that section the other day, myself. And, that’s the important ……..” His witty comment was interrupted by a ’ding’ from his cell phone. He took it out of his pocket and stopped when he saw that it was a new message for him.

  “Aw, Tom,” he said in ho-hum fashion, “why can’t people let 80 year old handsome looking gentlemen retire. How about going to get us a couple of seats at the bakery and tell Ed you want a couple of cups of his Fred Special. It’s brewed a little tougher than his normal stuff. It won’t take me but just a minute to get rid of whoever this is.”

  “Two Fred specials and two seats by the window coming up,” Tom echoed and he walked toward the bakery.

  Fred pretended to be reading the message he just got. He was really waiting for him to get out of earshot before he made his phone call. Nervously he punched in the number. A “Hello” sounded in the earpiece of the phone. “Olivia?” he asked.

  “Fred,” replied the voice on the other end. “Arthur was just telling me….”

  Fred sharply spoke her name again, “Olivia. That’s not important right now.”

  Olivia was shocked at the unusual shortness in Fred’s tone. “What on earth is it?” she asked.

  It was Fred’s turn to gather his emotions together before he spoke. When he did, he said in measured tones, “Olivia……he’s here.”