Nighthawks Diner, Part 2
Nighthawks Diner
Part 2
All of the usual customers were there, the boy noticed while recalling that his uncle called them the Nighthawks. Charles and Gertrude were at their normal place near the far end of the counter, while Frank sat around the corner from them. His uncle was putting things away under the counter as, this time of night, he was not only the cook, but took the orders, washed the dishes, and cleaned everything up as needed, all while the regulars talked. Charles lit a cigarette while Frank drank his coffee, and Gertrude rambled on about nothing in particular. This was their same routine as the night before, and the same routine they expected to repeat the next night.
Little did anyone know that, in a few short months, their world would be shattered by the events on an island they knew very little about, their veil of innocence shattering as the world slipped into war. Oh, they knew of the war, but it was “over there,” so it was of no concern to them. They went about their lives of lonely misery in a city with thousands of other lonely people just trying to find their way.
The boy didn’t know any of this, he just took in the sights and smells of the diner, one of his favorite places to be, with it’s grimy floors, grease-stained walls, and dim lights. To him, it was a magical place because his favorite uncle worked there.
When the call came, Charles joined the Marines, made the rank of Sargent, and was wounded so badly on Iwo Jima it took two years in the hospital before he learned to walk again with the aid of a cane. Gertrude pushed war bonds, collected scrap, and went to work in a factory building tanks. When Charles arrived stateside, she went to visit him while he was in rehab. She was there to encourage, bully when necessary, and be a shoulder to cry on when it all became overwhelming. Her presence by his side helped him to walk again, enabled him to find the spark within himself to push through the pain. Without her, he would have given up. They married soon after he was discharged, and moved into a small apartment near the diner they had often frequented before the war. Remaining childless, they spent the rest of their years in this same apartment. After Charles’s death, Gertrude would spend some of every night sitting at their spots in the diner remembering their life together, until she finally followed him a couple of years later.
Frank trained as a bomber pilot, was sent to Europe, and flew a number of missions over Germany. On his 24th mission, his bomber was badly hit by flack. He managed to get the plane turned around and headed for the English channel. Other pilots said they saw him go down just off the coast, but when boats went looking for survivors, not a trace of the plane or crew could be found.
The uncle joined the Navy as a cook and sailed the Pacific on a destroyer. He had one ship blown out from under him, and survived a kamikaze attack on another, because, as luck would have it, he wasn’t in the galley when the plane hit there. He came home with two purple hearts, as well as other medals, and never spoke about his time in the Navy, quietly going back to work at the diner, still on the night shift, waiting on other lonely souls. Some were like himself, broken souls from the war, and still others were just broken.
Charles and Gertrude wandered in one night taking the stools in their old spots. Charles nodded to the uncle, who nodded back in return, each acknowledging what they all had lived through without having to say a word. They would get together at times, when they had a day off, and find a quiet bar where they sat drinking beer, each lost in their own thoughts, yet each knowing what the other was thinking, yet not a word was spoken. They would often raise a glass to toast their fallen lonely friend who never returned.
The boy still came around at night, but it just wasn’t the same. He didn’t know what had happened to his uncle, just that he wasn’t the same favorite uncle that had gone off to sea. Somehow, his uncle was sadder, quieter, and more guarded then in the past, and this, in turn, created a sense of confusion and loss in the boy. It wasn’t until many years later, as an Infantry Captain in the jungles of a small country called Vietnam, that the boy finely felt he understood…
Those many years later, the uncle remembered as well: the old bike left by the delivery doors, the late nights watching from the kitchen as the uncle worked, the sodas perloined from the fridge, and the happy boy he loved. He remembered all of this whenever he went to Arlington to visit his nephew…
And so concludes part 2, and the tale itself is told. I hope you enjoy.
