The Patriot Read online

  The Patriot

  By the same author

  MRS. BRIDGE

  THE ANATOMY LESSON AND OTHER STORIES

  DOUBLE HONEYMOON

  NOTES FROM A BOTTLE FOUND ON THE BEACH AT CARMEL

  POINTS FOR A COMPASS ROSE

  LOST IN UTTAR PRADESH

  Copyright © 1958, 1960, 2014 by Evan S. Connell

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available

  ISBN 978-1-61902-385-7

  Cover design by Ann Weinstock

  COUNTERPOINT

  1919 Fifth Street

  Berkeley, CA 94710

  www.counterpointpress.com

  Distributed by Publishers Group West

  10987654321

  For Donna, Janet, and Matthew

  Our country! in her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong!

  —STEPHEN DECATUR

  God grant that not only the love of liberty but a thorough knowledge of the rights of man may pervade all the nations of the earth, so that a philosopher may set his foot anywhere on its surface and say: “This is my country.”

  —BENJAMIN FRANKLIN

  The Patriot

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  1

  One August evening in 1942 a small, dapper man about fifty years old whose name was Jacob Isaacs came briskly walking into the lobby of the Union Station at Kansas City, paused, looked over his shoulder with an expression of impatience, and beckoned urgently. The door swung open again and his daughter Leah came sauntering in, gazing about the lobby with no particular interest; she was a dark, sturdy child whose glittering green eyes and suggestive manner made her seem older than twelve. She was followed by her mother, Hannah, a rather squat, graying woman in a shapeless polka-dot dress, who was carrying a bright red coffee can. And at last, after quite a bit of difficulty getting his suitcases through the door, in came a tall spindly boy with curling black hair, big feet, bony arms, and a hooked nose, which somehow contrived to give him the appearance of a long-legged, awkward bird, earnest and a little despondent; apologetically he hurried to catch up with his parents and his sister. His name was Melvin and this evening he was to leave home for the first time. He was going into training to become a naval aviator.

  His father was already at the entrance to the station restaurant and, looking back once again, seemed to be astonished that Melvin was so far behind.

  “My shoe came untied,” the boy explained when he caught up. “I had to stop to fix it, and then somebody asked me if I knew where the train to—”

  “All right, you’re here. That’s the main thing,” his father said, motioning the family into the restaurant. “Put the suitcases to one side or the waitresses will trip over them. They never look where they walk, I don’t know why. Now what are you doing?” he demanded sharply. “We could be sued.”

  “Nobody’s going to trip over them,” Melvin said, but without much conviction, and seated himself, “or even if they did, it’d be their own fault.”

  “Run outside and check the suitcases. Here, I’ll give you the money. And don’t dawdle around, for once in your life. I’ll order dinner for you. I know what you like.”

  Melvin sighed, but obediently worked his feet out from beneath the table and got up, bumped into the waitress, and took the suitcases away. By the time he got back the soup was on the table.

  “There was a big line of people—” he began.

  “All right, I’m not doubting you. Sit down. The only thing that puzzles me is why you always seem to be at the end of a line. I get things accomplished, why can’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Melvin.

  “Never mind. I’m not criticizing. I was joking. I’ve ordered you a nice big sirloin steak, just the way you like it. While you were away I was telling your sister some interesting facts concerning the history of our family. Someday I would like to find time to write the history of the family. It would be fascinating. Everybody would be amazed. Your grandfather, for example, if he had lived a hundred years earlier—a little more, perhaps—he would be famous, his name on the Declaration of Independence like John Hancock. Today we do not have such men. What a subject! How much do we know of our past? Practically nothing. It’s true. I’m amazed. We get up, we rush to work, at night home exhausted. It’s true. Then another day, precisely identical. We don’t know who we are. How do men communicate when words have failed? By knowing their ancestry. We should study history.” He reached across the table to pat his daughter’s hand, saying, “If the war continues, you will someday be able to join this new Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps. Would you like that?”

  “Jacob, she is a baby!” exclaimed Hannah. “What is it you’re saying? The war will end soon. Everyone says so.”

  But Jake Isaacs continued as though he had not heard. “Last December what occurred? We all know too well. The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, a successful sneak attack, succeeding because America trusted Japan, trusting the treacherous envoys in Washington, our nation’s capital. Long before then, to be frank, I was saying this was a mistake. Do not trust the Japanese, I said, but who listened? Nobody. We want peace, so does everyone else, this is what I heard on every side. Look at the result, hoping for peace, trusting. So what’s happening in Europe? This very moment what atrocities are being committed, all because America and her allies wanted so much to avoid antagonizing the Axis? Hitler is running wild. Thank God for the Russians! Where would we be without them? I shudder to imagine what would happen to England and America without the brave people of the Soviet Union, a nation like our own in many respects. Now, however, the Nazis have crossed the Don River, in Africa the British garrison at Tobruk has surrendered. A little while ago Rommel was seventy miles from Alexandria and the Suez, God alone knows where he will strike next. No, this war will not soon be over.” He reached across the table to grasp his wife’s hand. “Hannah, we have no choice! What will happen if the Nazis are successful? Years ago,” he went on, looking first at his daughter, then at his son, “although it seems to me like yesterday, I served in France. I would have preferred to remain home—who wouldn’t?—but I was obliged to think not only of myself. The situation today is similar. We have no choice. We cannot consider peace. Melvin is going to fight for us. He is pleased and proud because he understands the consequence of a Nazi victory. Our lives depend on success,” he added, grasping his son by the elbow. “What’s the trouble? Aren’t you hungry?
”

  “Not very,” the boy replied in a low voice and picked at the rim of his plate.

  “The fact is—why should I pretend it’s untrue?—we are proud of you, Melvin. After graduation you will be wearing a tailor-made uniform, a commissioned officer of the United States Navy, with gold wings. Have you thought of that? It’s a great honor. The course of training, however, is unusually difficult, for good reasons. I’ve been told all about it. You will have to study harder than you did in school. Your grades were not good. I regret to say this, but we all know it is true. You can do much better if you try. It isn’t that you are not bright; it is that—to be frank, I don’t know. You are a puzzle.”

  Melvin grinned and took a sip of water without looking at anyone.

  “Do exactly what you are told. I know all about the Army. Here, eat this dish of turnips. You’ll be getting hungry on the train.”

  Melvin pushed the turnips away, hunched his shoulders, and remarked after a pause that he was not going into the Army, he was going into the Navy, and at this his father gestured impatiently.

  “It amounts to the same thing. Now, Hannah, I have a surprise. For Leah, too. Are you listening? If Melvin makes it through the training program we will go to Pensacola to watch the graduation. I understand the ceremony is very beautiful and impressive. Leah will be excused from school. Would you like that?” he asked his daughter.

  “All right,” Leah said. “If I don’t have to make up the homework.”

  “To judge from your report card, you don’t do it anyway. When I was—what are you doing?” he asked Melvin. “Stop pulling at your collar.”

  “It’s tight,” Melvin said. “I was trying to loosen it a little bit.”

  “You are no longer a schoolboy, you must learn to wear a necktie without discomfort. Eat the turnips. You’ll get hungry on the train.”

  Melvin again pushed the dish away; he groaned and looked desperately toward his mother, who had been staring at him and who had not responded to anything for the past few minutes.

  “You’ve got to eat. Here!”

  Melvin, his voice trembling, said, “Listen, I actually don’t want those turnips! Please—can’t you understand? Stop shoving them at me!”

  “Whatever you wish. Don’t blame me if you get hungry on the train. It’s a long trip, overnight.”

  “Let me alone! Let me be hungry!”

  “Did you lock the automobile?”

  “Yes,” Melvin said.

  “Are you sure? It pays to be careful.”

  “Go and look, if you don’t believe me!”

  “I believe you. Just answer yes or no. It’s only that I am not convinced the door is locked. You have always been careless about locking up. You walk out of the house and leave it open. Anybody could enter.”

  “I don’t know,” said Melvin gloomily. “Maybe I did forget.” He stared through the window of the coffee shop at the people in the lobby.

  “Show the Navy—demonstrate to the officers you are sincere and ambitious. This will go on your record. Nothing is more important than an excellent record. Are you listening?”

  “I’ll do the best I can, as long as it makes some kind of sense.”

  “Don’t argue, do whatever you are instructed. There will be reasons you can’t possibly know about.” He paused, glancing at the clock on the wall while a departure was announced, and continued: “We have the finest soldiers and the best generals in the world, as well as the most modern equipment, consequently it’s just a matter of time until the enemy is defeated. For example, General MacArthur is deliberately allowing the Japanese to advance. He is letting them overextend their lines, the same as at Bataan where the Japanese suffered severe losses, not only of men and materials but in prestige. They are rapidly losing face, as they say; this is very important to them. Any day now we will hear the trap has been sprung and the Japanese Army annihilated. It has been proved in a number of encounters that they are poor soldiers, lacking particularly in imagination. They are underpaid and badly equipped, with obsolete weapons, and, in contrast to the Americans, have been forced into this war by their leaders. Furthermore, I have seen comparisons between Japanese and United States warships and airplanes—how much thicker the armor plate on our ships and how much faster the airplanes. American air power is occupied elsewhere at the moment but will soon launch a major assault. One high-ranking Japanese general, whose name, unfortunately, I have forgotten, is unable even to read, and signs his orders with an X. I meant to show you, last night, a few items I have kept from the First World War. They are in the trunk in the attic—a trench knife, an Iron Cross from the breast of a German major, some photographs, I don’t know what else. You can see them on your furlough. I don’t understand why you’re not eating. We still have a few minutes. Do you want something else? You love to eat. I’ve watched you eat more than your mother and sister together. Fantastic! I don’t know where you put it.”

  “Can I have your V-five pin?” Leah asked. “You promised.”

  “I did not!” Melvin replied, looking at her in surprise.

  “Give the pin to your sister. That would be a nice gesture.”

  “I sort of wanted to keep it,” Melvin said.

  “Give the pin to her, Melvin.”

  “All right, if you insist, but she’ll just lose it.” He removed the pin from his lapel and handed it to her. It was a blue and bronze shield with a miniature pair of wings; he had worn it wherever he went ever since he had been accepted for cadet training.

  “I won’t either lose it,” Leah said. “You lost your overcoat last winter.”

  “Children,” Hannah said, clasping her hands and shutting her eyes. “At such a time, children. Shame. Don’t argue, please. Now what do we say, Leah, when there’s a gift?”

  With a look of boredom the girl answered, “Thank you for the pin, Melvin.” Then she sat forward eagerly, her green eyes shining. “After the war are you going to take me for an airplane ride? You promised you would.”

  Melvin looked at her in astonishment; she was lying again. “I did not promise,” he remarked irritably, and he continued to gaze at her. During the past few months she had grown much heavier, but less clumsy. There was sometimes in her eyes and on her lips an expression that fascinated him.

  “We will take a ride, one after the other,” Jake Isaacs said, patting his lips with a napkin. “Each of us will go up in the airplane.”

  “Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” said Melvin. “I could get washed out. Then I couldn’t take anybody up.”

  “Don’t talk like that! Nonsense. Do your best, you’ll succeed. The Navy does not expect to commission every cadet, only the best, however we have no doubt of your ability. One thing is important: keeping your nose to the grindstone. You can do it. We know you can. We’ll be looking forward to watching you graduate at Pensacola.”

  Melvin noticed that they were all staring at him; apparently they were waiting for him to assure them that he would not fail. He could not think of anything to say.

  A few minutes later they accompanied him to the gate. His father insisted on carrying both suitcases and continued to give advice. Trains rumbled beneath the station; the floor was trembling with vibrations. From below came the odor of steam and coal smoke, and the distant clank of a hammer on an iron wheel. Bells were tolling with curious insistence and he was seized with an urge to leave, to tell them good-by and begin the trip.

  His mother and father were both talking to him—she had given him the coffee can, which he knew was packed with chocolate candy. He could hear their voices but he was unable to concentrate. He realized that he was smiling at them, and that they assumed he had been listening to everything they said; he heard himself speak, and saw his mother step backward, as though in a dream, with her hands clasped and her eyes tightly shut. He understood, then, that his departure was painful to her. All at once Leah flung both arms around his waist and hugged him, lifting him off the floor; he was startled by her strength. His fa
ther was giving the ticket to an official in an old-fashioned blue serge uniform with brass buttons and a queer round cap which appeared to be made of cardboard; the ticket was punched. Melvin nodded gratefully, as though he were indebted to the official for this service, picked up his suitcases with a feeling of confusion, nodded blindly, and plunged into the crowd descending the ramp.

  2

  Late afternoon of the next day the train arrived in a small Iowa town called Vernon which was surrounded by cornfields. Melvin got off the train and waited a while, having no idea what to do. The depot was crowded with men carrying suitcases; a few of them seemed to know where to go, but most of them, he noticed, were either looking around in bewilderment or walking uncertainly back and forth. Several of them asked him if he knew how to get to the naval base. He replied that he did not know and that he was going there himself. He decided he might as well inquire about a bus or a taxi, but soon found he could not get through the crowd to the information window; in fact the crowd had become so large he could not go anywhere, and men were still getting off the train. Someone’s elbow knocked the candy out of his hand, someone else accidentally stepped on it and then deliberately kicked it, and he found himself being shoved along the platform toward a big gray truck where a naval officer in a wrinkled khaki uniform was standing on the hood with a megaphone in one hand and a whistle on a lanyard around his neck. The officer was looking down on the crowd without much interest. After a few minutes he blew the whistle, waited until there was silence, and then gave orders through the megaphone that all incoming cadets were to hand over their luggage to the enlisted men in the back of the truck, after which they were to form a double line on the road and stand at attention.

  Having gotten his suitcases into the truck, Melvin wandered to the road, where he joined the line, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and gazed around at his companions. Presently he discovered that one of them—a stocky, muscular, red-haired farm boy in a cheap, tight suit and an engineer’s cap—was staring at him with disapproval. At that moment the whistle sounded and the officer bawled through the megaphone, “Right face! Forward—harch!”