This series
is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road
trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend
hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone
from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So, I added
some speculation about things I've always wondered about and this series is the
result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to
the right, scroll down to and click OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The
FIRST entry is on the bottom of the last page.
Tommy Hastings and Freddie
Merrill scrambled up the side of the ditch they’d been standing in and raced to
the truck where it sat rumbling on 595 from Thunder Bay to where it turned east
after it crossed the Pigeon River.
“Where are you going?” Tommy
asked.
The man laughed and said,
“Nice to meet you, too, Thomas Hastings!”
“How’d you know my name?”
Tommy said, practically screeching to a halt.
“I was down in Duluth when Ed
called me from the logging company up in TB. Told me if I was goin’ north to
keep a look out for you. Didn’t see ya, so when I left with this load, she said
she was worried and to pick you up for sure if I saw you hitching south.”
“You know Ed?”
He smiled and said, “Edwina Olds,
Lieutenant, WACS (ret.). I do know her.”
Freddie’s eyes were wide and
sort of dreamy as the boys climbed into the tractor. Tommy said, “What’s your
name?”
He nodded, touching his
temple in a sort-of salute, “Arnie Voltz, at your service.”
“Were you in the service with
Ed?”
Arnie frowned and Tommy
elbowed Freddie who elbowed him back. “Service, yes. Active overseas? Not
exactly.”
“What’s that mean?”
Freddie suddenly said, “Dad
was 4-F. It means that somebody that wanted to be in the army to be not
qualified for service in the Armed Forces by a Military Entrance Processing
Station under the established physical, mental, or moral standards.”
Tommy said, “Huh?”
Arnie Voltz said, “Hay fever, color-blindness, hernias, flat feet, asthma, or being overweight.
A whole bunch of stuff. I wasn’t 4-F though. I was 2-B.”
“What’s that mean?”
“They didn’t want me up
front, but I could cook and stuff like that.”
“So what’d you do?” Tommy
asked.
“What was your problem?”
Freddie asked at the same moment.
Arnie looked at them and
said, “Friends of Ed, right?”
Tommy nodded, elbowed Freddie
whose eyes narrowed, studying Arnie. Finally he nodded.
Arnie snorted, shrugged and
said, “I was 2-B.”
“What’s that,” Tommy said.
Freddie answered before Arnie
could, saying, “Means he was national defense but they didn’t want him in the
military. Like he was a G-Man.”
Arnie smiled – but didn’t
deny it. He said, “Now I got a schedule to keep and I gotta leave now. Duluth
is my next stop. You boys with me or not?”
“With you!” Tommy exclaimed.
Freddie followed him up into the cab, silent. Arnie put the truck in gear and
slowly revved up and pulled on to the road. Tommy leaned over to Freddie, who
was staring out the windshield, looking for all the world like he was about to
cry. “What’s wrong?” Freddie sighed but didn’t say anything. “What?”
“He’s a G-Man,” Freddie said.
The trees of the Canadian woods started to fly by as they gathered speed.
“Yeah, cool, huh?”
Freddie stared, swaying with
the swaying of the tractor trailer. Suddenly he said, “Not cool!”
“What?”
“Why would Ed want to even
talk to me when her boyfriend is a G-Man?” Freddie whispered – though it was
like talking in a regular voice over the growl of the diesel engine.
“She talked to us before,”
Tommy said.
“Yeah, but…” he stopped. He
settled back into the seat, staring out the window. “I guess.”
“You guess what?”
“Nothin’.” He leaned forward
and said, “How long to Duluth?”
“‘bout four hours.”
“Where you goin’ then?”
Freddie asked.
“Home.”
“Where’s that?"
“Minneapolis – around Loring
Park,” he glanced at them. “You know where that is?”
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