THE ONLY USE FOR CANNON FODDER

 

The ball is in Major Richard Blaine's court, and he fears talking to men who believe they know everything

will end up with them learning nothing.

THE ONLY USE FOR CANNON FODDER

“A different world cannot bebuilt by indifferent people.”

- Peter Marshall

 

When I long for life withoutdifficulties, I remind myself that oaks grow strong in contrary winds, anddiamonds are made under pressure.

I reminded myself of that now.

It didn’t help.

Good advice never seems to do anygood when the bottom drops out from under you.

The world grew into almostblinding clarity.

I blinked my eyes at the sight ofskeletons within gauze-like bodies, dust motes of energy swirling within skullswhere the brains churned prosaic thoughts …

The pulsing energies caressingeach body in front of me.

Then, of all people, Eisenhowercame to my rescue as he shot up from his gleaming leather chair.

“You! You were not invited!”

“Of course, I was. Uncle Sam didwhen he drafted me.”

Churchill chuckled low asEisenhower’s lips compressed tight as a paper cut. “I will have you shot forthis! Gua ….”

He didn’t get the rest of theword out as Sentient’s eerie voice vibrated above us and into the very marrowof our bones.

“SILENCE! SIT! STAY!”

All of the audience, Eisenhowerincluded, did what Sentient ordered. Immediately … as puppets with theirstrings cut.

‘Sentient, when did you developthis ability?’

‘With the advent of your birth.You know only an iceberg’s tip of me.’

‘Sentient, they are not dogs foryou to command them so.’

‘No, they do not have that excusefor their lack of insight.’

‘If you can do this, why not endthis damnable war?”

‘This one chamber is easy. Todominate the whole world is beyond even me.’

The King gasped, “Y-You w-willpay f-for th-this!”

‘Sentient, you did not stopperhis mouth?’

‘No, I found I could not. Naturehas done enough to his speech without me adding to it. Your inanesentimentality is obviously contagious.’

‘Could you allow me to ….’

She mind-sighed, ‘To heal him?Oh, why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.’

I walked towards the King as hesquirmed uselessly. “D-Do n-not t-touch me!”

Churchill bellowed, “Do not darelay hands on the King!”

‘You let him speak, too?’

‘You have allowed this to becomea Greek Tragedy. I thought you deserved a Greek Chorus of sorts.’

I did what Sentientmind-suggested. With my right hand, I grasped the King’s temples with splayedfingers despite the pain it cost me … which was considerable.

It was no picnic for His Majestyeither. He squirmed as if his whole body had been plunged into boiling pitch.

Apparently, General Patton waspart of my “Greek Chorus,” too.

“Damn you! I’ll have youexecuted. I’ll shoot you myself! See if I don’t!”

I flicked weary eyes to him.“Hence, you still being paralyzed.”

I pulled my throbbing fingersfrom the King’s temples who would have made the ghost of Mark Twain smile whenhe snarled, “I would have you drawn and quartered if such were still done. ButI ….”

His trembling fingers shot to hislips.

“Can talk without stammering,sir. Sentient is alien not heartless.”

‘Thank you … I think.’

The inner circle of those in power stared at me as if at a monster.

"What are you?" hushed Churchill, fear and dread mixed equally in his sonorous voice.

I read Eisenhower's lips: a spawn of Satan.

Patton studied my right bandagedhand whose trembling I could not stop no matter how hard I tried.

“That hurt you, soldier.”

“Quite a lot, sir.”

His eyes narrowed and hardened.“So, you did not lose your hands for which you received the DistinguishedService Cross?”

“Oh, I lost them, sir. I havehands like a bald man with a toupee has hair.”

“They’re artificial?”

“And my wrists to which they’reattached hurt like a son of a ….”

There came a sharp intake ofbreath from the now open doorway. I turned.

I froze.

For a heartbeat, I saw a palearistocratic lady, seeming as if she had stepped right out of the VictorianAge.

‘You are seeing her as Churchillfirst saw her in 1895.’

‘1895?’

‘You are not the only humantouched by strange destiny, young one.’

‘How?’

‘You must have me confused withCronkite. Her story is hers to tell. Hers alone.’

The illusion of her Victorianappearance disappeared, leaving a tall woman still attractive … despite themake-up that was cunningly applied to make her look … older?

“Lucy!” cried Churchill. “Gobefore that abominable Sentient ….’

“Too late, my Winny. She isalready talking to me mind to mind.”

“How?” he asked, echoing myquestion.

“My love, you have always known Iam … Other.”

“Do not ….”

Lucy Churchill laughed bitterly,“What will your enemies do? If they repeat what I have said, they will onlysound like madmen.”

The King spoke calmly. “If theyattack you, Madame. I will defend you. I defy them to gainsay me!”

Lady Wentworth studied me as iftrying to memorize my face. “Oh, Winny, do you not see the resemblance?”

“Yes, he looks amazingly likethat Jimmy Stewart chap.”

“No! He looks like he whom youarrested in 1895 Cairo for that damnable Lord Cromer. Remember how he healed thosebeggars and merchants along the way like the Major has now healed His Majesty!”

The King frowned, “Madame, helooks amazingly like a young Ronald Coleman to me.”

General Patton snorted, “Are youall blind? He looks like that new American actor, Gregory Peck.”

Churchill’s wife looked confused,and I sighed, “Lady Wentworth ….”

“You cannot call me that since Ihave married Winnie.”

I snorted a laugh. “Ma’am, I amfrom America. You know us Yanks get all twisted up with titles. Our nationsonce even fought a war over it, right?”

I walked up to her, wanted totouch her arm to comfort her, but I thought Churchill would spontaneouslycombust.

‘You think correctly for once.’

‘Yay for me.’

“Ma’am, each person who meets me,sees me with a different face … except for my own Lucy … Helen Mayfair.”

I felt a pain worse than that ofmy wrists. “Whom I will never see again.”

“She is dead, then?” murmuredLucy.

“No. But I have so many enemies….”

Patton growled, “You aren’t deadyet, soldier. You give up after you die.”

His eyes flicked to LadyWentworth. “And maybe not even then.”

He turned those dark eyes to me.“Would you die for your Helen?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, live for her, soldier.Live for her.”

 *

For the story of how Lucy Wentworth met young Lt. Winston Churchill. read THE STARS BLEED AT MIDNIGHT:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N758R96