armistice. I think he willed himself to die that day.”
Jack bowed his head, partly in tribute, mainly to jot down the name in his notes.
“Then there was Major Oggleton. He’d been a doctor and the mayor of Voorburg before the war. A good man. Quiet. But when he spoke up, he was so reasonable and calm that nobody could dispute him. He was a loss to the whole town.“
“What happened to him?“
“He packed his bags one evening, took them to the train station, all spiffed up in his best suit and hat, got on a train, and was never seen or heard from again. As a medic, he’d seen the worst horrors of the war, and it destroyed him. For a little while before he left I’d lived next door to him, and I’d hear him wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I guess he thought he could leave the horrors behind in Voorburg. I doubt if it worked.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. The tables had been cleared and the volunteers had gone away. The mess tent suddenly seemed the most depressing place on earth.
“Who was the third man you mentioned?“ Jack asked finally.
“Captain VanZillen. We all looked up to him, though he was a hard man to really like. He was older than the rest of us. I think he was in insurance of some kind. A pretty high rank in his company, rich as hell, and he volunteered to leave his job to serve his country. Interesting man. Used to running things. Real good at money. Could calculate in his head like a wonder. He’d traveled a lot with his job and kept us going in the trenches with his stories of places he’d been and important people he’d met. It made us all feel good, thinking we’d go home and maybe someday see those places and people.“
“Did he die as well?“
“Yes, but not on purpose like Butch and probably Major Oggleton. He was on some sort of trip on business when he got back.“ He stopped and thought for a moment. “I can’t recall right off if it was a train or a ferry, but it went down crossing the Ohio River. Or maybe the Mississippi. Only four people out of about eighty managed to swim to shore. The rest were drowned and washed away. The river was high from rain, and turbulent, they said.”
George smacked at an especially aggressive fly. “I’ve told you the rumor that Hoover’s going to throw us out of here tomorrow.“
“Yes. But it’s only a rumor, like you say.“ Then Jack asked, “Why did you come here?“
“Why not? Like I said, I haven’t got a job and I’ve lost my family. All I have are my old buddies from the war. And at first I thought this march might work. But look what it’s turned into.“ He pointed at two drunks rolling around in the dirt about twenty feet away, punching at each other fruitlessly.
Chapter 13
Howard Walker was having a peanut butter sandwich for a late lunch at his house by the river. He needed some quiet. Or at least as quiet as it got, next to Monday’s usual influx of trains racing by. But he’d learned to tune them out pretty well.
He was waiting for more information before he could continue his investigation, so he used these few minutes of leisure to consider his investigators instead. Ralph Summer was strong and fairly obedient within his mental limits. He was good at guarding prisoners, not that there were ever many in Voorburg. Walker could give him the car keys, with directions for picking up a specific paper or piece of evidence, and he’d do it.
Ralph would act as he was told without any interest in what or why he was doing it. Ralph had no imagination, no ambition. Walker had inherited him from the former police chief, who’d been fired for incompetence and a general bad attitude. There wasn’t enough in the town budget for another full-time deputy with brains. He could hire someone extra for a few days two or three times a year in emergencies, but that was it.
He longed to get rid of Ralph and hire Harry Harbinger, who was intelligent and hardworking. He also had that essential element,
Jack bowed his head, partly in tribute, mainly to jot down the name in his notes.
“Then there was Major Oggleton. He’d been a doctor and the mayor of Voorburg before the war. A good man. Quiet. But when he spoke up, he was so reasonable and calm that nobody could dispute him. He was a loss to the whole town.“
“What happened to him?“
“He packed his bags one evening, took them to the train station, all spiffed up in his best suit and hat, got on a train, and was never seen or heard from again. As a medic, he’d seen the worst horrors of the war, and it destroyed him. For a little while before he left I’d lived next door to him, and I’d hear him wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I guess he thought he could leave the horrors behind in Voorburg. I doubt if it worked.”
They sat in silence for a long moment. The tables had been cleared and the volunteers had gone away. The mess tent suddenly seemed the most depressing place on earth.
“Who was the third man you mentioned?“ Jack asked finally.
“Captain VanZillen. We all looked up to him, though he was a hard man to really like. He was older than the rest of us. I think he was in insurance of some kind. A pretty high rank in his company, rich as hell, and he volunteered to leave his job to serve his country. Interesting man. Used to running things. Real good at money. Could calculate in his head like a wonder. He’d traveled a lot with his job and kept us going in the trenches with his stories of places he’d been and important people he’d met. It made us all feel good, thinking we’d go home and maybe someday see those places and people.“
“Did he die as well?“
“Yes, but not on purpose like Butch and probably Major Oggleton. He was on some sort of trip on business when he got back.“ He stopped and thought for a moment. “I can’t recall right off if it was a train or a ferry, but it went down crossing the Ohio River. Or maybe the Mississippi. Only four people out of about eighty managed to swim to shore. The rest were drowned and washed away. The river was high from rain, and turbulent, they said.”
George smacked at an especially aggressive fly. “I’ve told you the rumor that Hoover’s going to throw us out of here tomorrow.“
“Yes. But it’s only a rumor, like you say.“ Then Jack asked, “Why did you come here?“
“Why not? Like I said, I haven’t got a job and I’ve lost my family. All I have are my old buddies from the war. And at first I thought this march might work. But look what it’s turned into.“ He pointed at two drunks rolling around in the dirt about twenty feet away, punching at each other fruitlessly.
Chapter 13
Howard Walker was having a peanut butter sandwich for a late lunch at his house by the river. He needed some quiet. Or at least as quiet as it got, next to Monday’s usual influx of trains racing by. But he’d learned to tune them out pretty well.
He was waiting for more information before he could continue his investigation, so he used these few minutes of leisure to consider his investigators instead. Ralph Summer was strong and fairly obedient within his mental limits. He was good at guarding prisoners, not that there were ever many in Voorburg. Walker could give him the car keys, with directions for picking up a specific paper or piece of evidence, and he’d do it.
Ralph would act as he was told without any interest in what or why he was doing it. Ralph had no imagination, no ambition. Walker had inherited him from the former police chief, who’d been fired for incompetence and a general bad attitude. There wasn’t enough in the town budget for another full-time deputy with brains. He could hire someone extra for a few days two or three times a year in emergencies, but that was it.
He longed to get rid of Ralph and hire Harry Harbinger, who was intelligent and hardworking. He also had that essential element,
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