NORMANDY
Mr. Shortleigh said that it was late afternoon. He and Sergeant McCarthy
and two other men were walking through a field of goldenrod and they met
a patrol of four Germans. There was a brief exchange of fire, and all
the Germans were killed. The Sarge was shot twice in the upper chest,
slightly to the right. Kimball went to find a medic. Shortleigh and
Lyons stayed with my father. They carried him under a tree and the three
of them sat together on the dry leaves. Lyons told my father that
everything would be all right, that Kimball would be back soon with the
medics, and then Daddy would get to go home to Mother and I. Daddy said,
yes, of course. They all knew that he was going to die. They had fought
together in Tunisia and Sicily. They had all seen enough to know. Daddy
said it's beautiful here. From where they sat, the mounded field looked
like the bosom of a waking goddess. Lyons said that yes, it was, very
beautiful. Shortleigh said you're lucky, Mac. Daddy said that yes, he
was very lucky. Lyons said the medics would be there soon. Daddy said of
course they would be, that they shouldn't worry. It occurred to
Shortleigh that the Sarge felt that if he and Lyons were going to be
polite enough to lie, the least he could do was go along with it. Daddy
said he would like a cigarette, please. Lyons gave him a cigarette and
Shortleigh lit it. Daddy said, god damn but you've got to love free
cigarettes. He said you had to respect a nation that gave you free
cigarettes. He said that this was the American dream, right here,
manifested. Shortleigh and Lyons laughed. He grinned at them and told
Lyons to lean forward and he spit a mouthful of blood behind the tree.
He said that damn skippy, this was the American dream. He got out one of
the handkerchiefs my mother had embroidered him and used it to wipe his
mouth. He said dulce et decorum est to die with a free cigarette in your
hand. Lyons said he would write my mother and tell her anything Daddy
wanted. Daddy laughed, spit blood, wiped it away, said: No last words.
He said last words were only for people who hadn't said the right things
while they were alive. He handed the cigarette butt to Shortleigh, who
stubbed it out on the sole of his boot and threw it into the hedgerow.
Lyons said it wouldn't be much longer now until the stretcher bearers
came. Daddy said it was nice right where they were. He said city boys
like himself didn't get to sit under many trees. He said, nature's a
wonderful thing, dammit. He said Shortleigh and Lyons didn't have to
wait. He said they were nice to wait. He spit more blood. It dribbled
down his chin and he didn't wipe it away. He shut his eyes and they said
Sarge just hold on a few minutes more. Lyons said something about the
medics. Daddy said, Jesus you two, I'm not dead yet. Almost but not yet.
He said talk about something, will you. Anything, but not the fucking
stretcher bearers. He said he just wanted to lie there and think, and he
didn't want to talk, but that he wanted someone to talk. He said he
liked voices. He was just going to be quiet for a few minutes and when
he died they should go on back to camp and Kimball and the stretcher
bearers would get him. Lyons said that it was a beautiful day.
Shortleigh said that yes, it was. The sun was setting and they talked
about the colors. Lyons said Sarge are you there? Daddy told him to look
at the sunset. There was more blood. The sky was purple. Lyons said you
chose a beautiful day to die, Sarge. Shortleigh said that beauty was
truth and truth beauty. Lyons said don't be a fuck, Shortleigh.
Shortleigh said that poetry illuminated the human experience. Lyons said
that the human experience was a crock of shit. Daddy opened his eyes and
said, when John Keats died, he was younger than I am now. Shortleigh said,
hey get this Sarge, he had Fanny and you have Annie. Daddy smiled. He
said that dying was a pain in the ass for everyone involved. He said he
was sorry it was taking so long, and he appreciated their staying. Lyons
said that everyone deserved to have someone else there when they died.
Daddy said that that was true. He said he didn't want to be bad company,
but that he was just going to close his eyes again and remember things,
and that they should have a cigarette and not pay attention. Lyons said,
do you want us to talk? Daddy said, not unless you have something to
say. Lyons and Shortleigh lit cigarettes and watched the sunset.
Shortleigh thought about the sun sliding backwards towards home. He
thought about the English Channel and the Houses of Parliament and the
North Atlantic, and the way light shatters against water. He remembered
that the sun doesn't move, and he thought about the spinning earth until
it made him dizzy. His ankle itched and he unlaced his boot to get a
good angle at it through the sock. Lyons was lying on his back with his
hands folded behind his head and a cigarette hanging out of the side of
his mouth. The ash, Shortleigh calculated, had to be at least an inch
long, maybe more. Shortleigh watched, mesmerized, until it broke and
fell onto Lyons' neck. Lyons didn't move. He stared straight up towards
the sky which was broken with leaves and branches. The smoke from his
cigarette trembled in the still air. The sky went red and then pink.
Eventually, it was dusk, and they looked back at Daddy and saw that he
was dead.