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Chapter 38: Statue of Liberty
"Dear Madam,
Very soon, your son, Staff Sergeant Rhys Parks, will be descending from the sky to engage and defeat the enemy. He will be issued the finest weapons and equipment. To achieve success on the battlefield, he has undergone months of arduous and intense training…
Please write to him often, give him your care and encouragement, as this will strengthen his will to fight. With this, he will press forward, win honor for himself, make you proud of him, and his country will thank him for his service at such a critical moment.
Captain Herbert Sobel, Commanding Officer, E Company, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne Division"
This was a form letter written by Captain Sobel, to be sent to every soldier's mother. Rhys wondered how she was doing.
Carrying their bags and weapons, the brothers of Easy Company stood in a long line and boarded the troopship. At the gangplank, a man with a list called out their names. Few people spoke during the boarding process; their hearts were filled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. Rhys felt the same. Even though this wasn't his first time going to war overseas, the feeling was something that stayed with you in every life.
A smoky tugboat pulled the troopship away from the pier. After a blast from its horn, the ship began to move slowly out to sea. Almost every brother in Easy Company stood by the railing, silently watching the Statue of Liberty gradually drift away, moving toward the stern of the ship. For nearly all of them, this was their first time leaving the United States.
Only when the Statue of Liberty had become a smaller and smaller silhouette, and finally disappeared from view, did the men begin to stir from their silent contemplation.
"What are you thinking about, Parks?" White asked, turning his head to look at him.
Rhys took a deep breath of the salty sea air. "I don't know. A lot of things. My mother, Virginia, Jennifer, and of course, all of us brothers together." He let out a long sigh. "Maybe on the battlefield, some of our brothers will leave this team because of the war, either wounded or killed in action." He was speaking from the heart.
"Are you scared?" White asked, looking at him strangely. Of course, he hadn't experienced death like Rhys had, and he couldn't think that far ahead. In his mind, dying for one's country was a heroic act.
"No, White," Rhys said with a slight smile. "Just some thoughts, that's all."
Rhys turned his gaze to the sea, where flocks of petrels and seagulls skimmed over the surface, their calls filling the air.
"Do you know the name of this ship?" Rhys suddenly asked.
White was taken aback for a moment, but quickly answered, "It's called the 'Samaria'. Is there a problem with that?"
Rhys smiled. "Samaria was originally the capital of an ancient Jewish nation. I think that's the significance of us being on this ship. We're going to liberate them."
"Hey, are you saying this ship belongs to the Jews? Or that we're going to Europe to be the saviors of the Jews?" White laughed. "Saviors? I like the sound of that."
The two of them joked around, and gradually, their heavy moods began to lift. Just then, they saw Tipper walking toward them, holding a can of peaches. "Parks, this is for you. I know you like this stuff." He tossed the can over, and Rhys caught it with one hand.
"I won it in a bet with a guy from D Company just now," Tipper said, his face beaming with excitement. "And cigarettes." He pulled out three packs of cigarettes, giving one each to Rhys and White. He tore his own open, took one out, and with a 'click', lit it. He took a deep drag, blew out a smoke ring, and let out a long sigh.
"We've finally left," Tipper said, leaning his arms on the railing and looking out at the sea. "We're just heading to Europe. To be honest, Parks, I really wanted to go to the South Pacific. Those guys really lucked out."
He was referring to the Marines.
"Why?" White asked, looking at him with confusion.
"I wanted to be assigned to a tropical island, sit naked under a palm tree with six local girls. They'd peel coconuts for me, and I'd feed flamingos by hand," Tipper said, closing his eyes as if lost in a fantasy.
"Oh, Tipper, stop daydreaming. Flamingos are mean, and they bite," Rhys laughed. So that was the beautiful dream this guy had been having. "And naked women bite, too."
"Who hates going to Europe?" another voice came from the deck. "I'd love to go to Europe."
The three of them turned to see Joe Toye walking over.
"If I'm lucky, I could slit Hitler's throat. Then Roosevelt would change Thanksgiving to Joe Toye Day and give me a ten-thousand-dollar pension for life," Toye said with a smug grin.
The three of them burst out laughing.
Rhys shook his head and smiled. "Joe, you're completely dreaming. Of course, if it were me, it would be different." Rhys held up his hands as if aiming a rifle. "Listen, for me, if you give me a Springfield sniper rifle and put me within a mile of Adolf Hitler with a clear line of sight and no wind, then you can pack your bags. The war is over, fellas."
"Brilliant!" White laughed.
***
As the four of them were chatting, they suddenly heard a commotion from inside the ship.
"What's going on?" White asked. Rhys was already heading inside. It turned out Guarnere and Liebgott had gotten into a dispute and were fighting.
"Hey, hey, hey! Fellas, what's all this?" Rhys rushed forward. Sure enough, it was Liebgott and Guarnere, already tangled up in a brawl, with a group of soldiers cheering them on.
"Knock it off, soldiers!" Rhys said, pulling the two men apart. He knew the reason for the fight. "Go to your bunks and settle down. Don't cause trouble, fellas." He pointed a finger at Guarnere and pushed Liebgott away with his other hand.
"Hmph," Liebgott spat a wad of bloody saliva onto the floor, shot Guarnere a fierce glare, then turned and climbed onto his bunk.
"Alright, alright," Guarnere said, holding up his hands. He gave Liebgott a sideways glance, then slowly backed away to his own bunk and climbed up.
"What happened?" Rhys asked the soldiers standing around.
"It's nothing, Parks. It was over Sobel. Mr. Gonorrhea said Sobel was a Jew, and Liebgott got pissed off because he's a Jew too. He felt that classifying Sobel as a Jew was an insult to him. That's all," Luz explained with a grin from the side.
"Alright, fighting over Sobel. that's really smart," Rhys said, shaking his head. "Okay, break it up. Don't block the aisle, brothers."
The crowd gradually dispersed. So that's what it was. Rhys couldn't help but smile wryly. Everything that was supposed to happen was happening, right on schedule. A thought suddenly struck him. Since he was here now, would things in the future actually change? Would the brothers who were destined to die or be seriously wounded still meet the same fate? He couldn't say.
Rhys settled the men down and then went back outside, wanting to clear his head. Just then, Christenson followed him out onto the deck.
"Parks," Christenson called out from behind him.
"What is it?" Rhys asked, turning to look at him.
"Do you know why that happened just now?" Christenson asked.
Rhys nodded. "I know. Because of the Jewish thing."
"No, not entirely," Christenson said. "The ultimate cause was Sobel, yes, but it wasn't because he's Jewish. That has nothing to do with it. It's just… it's just that the brothers don't trust him." Christenson hesitated, but finally got the words out.
Rhys frowned. "Is this just your opinion?"
"No. We were all just talking about it," Christenson said. "No one wants to be near him. The brothers would rather charge into a hail of bullets with other officers, like Winters or Heyliger."
"So… what are you saying?" Rhys knew this was a matter beyond his control, but it was clear Christenson hadn't followed him out just to complain.
"The brothers asked me to come and talk to you," Christenson said. "How should we handle this situation? If we really get to the battlefield, the brothers aren't willing to die in vain because of Sobel. I'm sure you don't want to see that happen either."
Rhys was stunned. He hadn't realized the men's resentment toward Sobel ran this deep. He was silent for a moment. "Alright, let me think about it. Tell the brothers not to worry about Sobel."
Christenson nodded, then looked at Rhys seriously. "We trust you, Parks."
Rhys stared blankly at his retreating back, a sense of uncertainty in his heart. He couldn't change anything. Even though he was the First Sergeant, all the brothers could do was voice their opinions to him.
*****
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