Читать книгу Through the Valley - William Reeder - Страница 10

Prologue

I played army as a kid and loved it. It was shortly after World War II when we played in the vacant lots and fields in the rapidly expanding San Fernando Valley, outside Los Angeles. We used stuff from our veteran fathers or gear from the war surplus stores that had popped up after the war. My dad had been in the Navy, so I used a clunky army helmet my grandmother picked up for a dollar at the new surplus store on Victory Boulevard.

We played with gusto. Sometimes we’d get wounded. Other times we’d die dramatically, only to come back to life again when we got bored being dead.

One day we were playing with a group of older boys, five- and six-year-olds against eight- to ten-year-olds. One of my friends, wearing his dad’s leather flying helmet, climbed a tree. He waved me up and we scooted out onto a low branch. He made airplane noises, held both hands up as if gripping a machine gun, and went, “Rata-tat-tat, rata-tat-tat.”

As the bigger boys got closer, I joined in, “Rata-tat-tat, rata-tat-tat.”

We shouted, “You guys are dead! We’re in an airplane and we shot you all.”

A couple of the older boys came under us, snatched our legs, and pulled us to the ground with a thud. “We shot you down,” they said. “Now you’re our prisoners.” They dragged us off to a deep depression near the middle of the field. In the bottom were several large cardboard boxes.

The older boys said, “This is our prison. Into your cells!”

I crawled into a big cardboard box. They shut me in. I panicked. Closed in the dark, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I shouted, “Let me out of here!”

Nothing.

“Please let me out of here! Let me out! Please get me out!” I shouted. Then cried, “Let me out of here. I don’t like this! It’s scary! Let me go!” I began sobbing and screaming.

I heard my mom coming from the direction of our house. She yelled at the boys. How could they do such a thing? She tore the box open and pulled me out, holding me close as I cried and cried.

I played war lots of times after that. No kids ever again tried to take me captive. But the terror of those moments in that closed-in darkness never left me.