Excerpt from “Only Time Would Tell” by James Etheridge.
Available at https://www.amazon.com/dp/1086015924
“Okay, here’s the plan,” said Bubba-Bubba. We all looked at each other and rolled our eyes. “We’ll flank out, Billy to the right and Joe to the left. Brooks, Brain and Snail will go in low from the front. I’ll stay back with the Mighty Mo.” Bubba-Bubba envisioned himself as the commander, in the rear and calling the shots, much too valuable to engage in actual combat. He would get in the fort whenever possible. It was really better if he stayed at the fort. We could then figure out our own strategies and maneuvers on the battlefield without having to listen to him. “That’s the same opening maneuver we do every week,” said Joe. Bubba-Bubba ignored him. “Billy ain’t here,” said Brain. “Then we’ll start without him,” said the little commander. Just then Snail strolled up and sat down in the fort. I looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock sharp. “What took you so long?” Bubba-Bubba asked Snail. “I left my house at a quarter ‘til,” said Snail. “It’s a long walk through the woods and across the creek.” Snail moved very slow, but was a good shot and an even better strategist. He carried a Zero M Sonic Blaster. It didn’t shoot bullets or shells but could be pumped up and shoot a blast of air that would knock a squirrel off of a bird feeder from fifty feet. Snail’s old man used it to do just that in their back yard. Just then a shrill tweet from the twins’ police whistle blew from their fort. Bubba-Bubba put his thumb and index finger to each side of his mouth and whistled back. He might have been a jerk, but the little shrimp could whistle. Backyard combat was on, with still no sign of Billy.
“Alright, into position,” said Bubba-Bubba. He began putting a shell in the Mighty Mo. “What about you?” asked Joe.
“I told you, I’m staying back with the cannon.”
“What about the right flank? It’ll be wide open.”
“I’ll guard it from here.”
Across the creek, they were already advancing down the hill. Brain, Snail and I began crawling forward toward them. I heard Joe say to Bubba-Bubba, “Look, you need to get your ass out on that flank!” “Okay, okay!” said Bubba-Bubba. “Just cover me.” So it was okay if we all got shot, but we had to protect the little commander at all costs. If he made him mad enough, Joe might pop him with a sweetgum ball himself.
As we were advancing down our side of the creek, I could see them all taking quick looks at Joe. They all knew how deadly he was with that slingshot. They had Beach on the right flank, opposite Joe. Drummer, with his Johnny Seven One Man Army gun, was on the left flank across from Bubba-Bubba. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat and running from tree to tree. Bubba-Bubba was going to be easy pickings. The twins, Marty and Charlie, along with Strongarm were in the middle opposite us. Mitch was behind a tree to the right of their fort, about halfway down the hill. All of a sudden, Drummer jumped out from behind a tree, ready to fire a plastic bullet at Bubba-Bubba. As he raised the gun, a sweetgum ball popped him in the right arm. Joe had fired it from the opposite flank. “Owww!” yelled Drummer. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees, holding his arm. Joe had covered Bubba-Bubba after all. The numbers had to be protected, at least until Jonny Quest was over and Billy showed up. Otherwise, the battle could be over very quickly.
They knew that and started to press forward. Not surprisingly, they moved toward Bubba-Bubba. They were going to try to take him out and come up on our right side. Mitch darted into the open and, dodging a barrage of sweetgum balls from Joe, managed to tag Drummer. Mitch then scampered back to cover behind a tree. Drummer was back in the battle and in a bold move ran down the hill, scaled down the creek bank, crossed the creek and crawled up the bank on our side. He didn’t climb it all the way, stopping at eye level at the top of the bank. He had a shot at Bubba-Bubba, who had no idea where Drummer was. He was pulling out his walkie-talkie to give Brain some kind of order. Brain had reluctantly agreed to carry the other walkie-talkie. Just as Bubba-Bubba took the radio out of the holster and pushed the call button, Drummer hit him in the knee with a quick blast from the Johnny Seven. Bubba-Bubba let out a yell and went down. Drummer disappeared back down the creek bank. He was now in a position with the Johnny Seven where he could take pot shots at us and we wouldn’t know from which direction the next one might be coming. I looked at Joe and he looked at me. We both snickered and were thinking the same thing; should we tag Bubba-Bubba back in or not? We had to. We had no choice. We were outnumbered.
Just then there was a rustle of leaves and Billy slid on his belly between Brain and me. “Where the hell have you been?” I snapped at Billy. “I had to finish watching Jonny Quest,” he said. “They’re all re-runs,” said Brain. “Besides, aren’t you getting a little old for that?” “Hey, man, I like Jonny Quest!” snapped Billy. “After that I had to make up my bed, clean my room and help my mother bring in the groceries. I got here as quick as I could!” “Never mind, it doesn’t matter now,” I said. “You need to get out on the right flank and tag Bubba-Bubba. He got hit. Stay put on the flank and let him get back up to the Mighty Mo. And be careful, Drummer’s on our side of the creek bank with the Johnny Seven.”
“Okay.”
“Wait a minute, take these. You might need them.”
I reached into my pants pocket and handed him two of the tin foils from Joe’s venison biscuits. I had rolled them into balls and had two because I had picked the one from Brain’s biscuit up off the floor of the fort. They would fit perfectly in the end of Billy’s air rifle. He had an old Sears BB gun with the firing mechanism and barrel cap removed. It shot air with a cool sounding blast and he would load it up with dirt clods, sweetgum balls and, if the situation required, rocks. “Thanks,” said Billy and he put the balls into his pocket and started to crawl off toward the right flank. Brain’s walkie-talkie went off. “Bubba-Bubba calling Brain! Bubba-Bubba calling Brain! Do you read me?” said the radio. Brain looked at me and shook his head. He pushed the call button and said, “Sir, yes, Sir! Loud and clear, Sir!” Snail and I both started giggling. “Get over here and tag me!” barked Bubba-Bubba. “Sir, Billy’s on the way, Sir!” replied Brain. He switched the walkie-talkie off, turned over and tossed it up the hill and into the fort. That was that for Bubba-Bubba’s field orders.
Billy crawled about halfway to Bubba-Bubba before jumping up and running. Strongarm heaved a grenade after him. Strongarm was an All-Star pitcher with an arm like a cannon. Grenades were his weapons of choice. The grenade fell right in front of Billy, but the Greenie Stik-M cap did not explode. Billy scooped it up, tagged Bubba-Bubba and jumped behind the tree. There was a loud pop as a sweetgum ball hit Strongarm in the right bicep. It was a good thing he was a lefty. Joe had hit him from the flank. Suddenly a grenade hit him in the chest and exploded. Drummer had popped up from the creek bank and launched it from the Johnny Seven. Joe, the slingshot and the sweetgum balls were down. “I’m going right to the creek with the blaster,” said Snail. “If any of ‘em come over the bank, I’ll let ‘em have it.” I looked around and noticed I hadn’t seen Mitch or Beach. I figured they must have been advancing and hiding behind trees. Brain was crawling toward Joe. A grenade landed right in front of his nose but didn’t go off. Charlie had thrown it from across the creek before diving back behind a tree and cursing the Stik-M cap. Apparently they had bought a bad batch of them at the dime store. Brain hung the grenade on his fatigues and crawled as fast as he could toward Joe. Marty came out from behind a tree on their middle right and took aim at Brain with his M-14. I yelled for Brain to look out and he rolled over, sat up and began swinging and shooting his Winchester. Marty had fired and missed, but one of Brain’s bullets hit him in the knee and he went down. Brain jumped up, ran to Joe, tagged him and dove behind a tree. In the meantime Billy had moved from behind cover on the right flank and was advancing from tree to tree toward the creek. Snail had moved into position in the middle, right at the creek bank. He was ready to defend against any marauder. Bubba-Bubba was safely positioned at the fort behind the Mighty Mo, taking shots with his M-14 that weren’t even making it to the creek. A couple of times he almost hit one of us. The battle was essentially five against six.
On the left flank, as Charlie jumped out from behind a tree and ran toward his brother to tag him, Joe popped him in the side with a sweetgum ball. Both brothers and Strongarm were out. They were down to Mitch, Beach and Drummer. Mitch and Beach were still nowhere to be seen and Drummer was hiding somewhere along the creek bank. Billy let out a whistle. He could see Drummer. He pointed at the creek and then at Snail. Snail nodded. Billy had told him Drummer was in front of him but in doing so had given up his position. Billy was in no-man’s land. “Bubba-Bubba!” yelled Joe, “Get on the flank and cover him!” Bubba-Bubba wouldn’t move. “I’m manning the cannon,” he yelled back. “Never mind, I’ll cover him,” I said to Joe. Just then a grenade landed in front of my face and the Stik-M cap exploded. Drummer had moved down the creek bank and tossed it at me. I was out. I started to call out to Snail, but as slow as he was, it would take him a week to crawl back up the hill to tag me. Besides, he was in position guarding the creek. I heard leaves rustling. Brain was crawling quickly toward me. Bullets from Drummer’s Johnny Seven zinged over his head, but no more than a few. He must have been running low on ammo. Brain jumped up, tagged me and hit the dirt at my side. “Bubba-Bubba’s useless,” he said. “After this, we ought to court martial the little jerk.”
“Yeah, I know. Speaking of which, where’s your walkie-talkie?”
“I thought about throwing the stupid thing in the creek.”
“There’s still one left. Why don’t you throw it and the guy who’s attached to it in the creek?”
“If he keeps it up, I might. Look, Tommy, I can’t stay here. I’ve got to get back down to Snail.”
“Okay.”
As he began to crawl away I said, “Hey Brain!”
“Yeah?” he said, stopping and looking back.
“Thanks!”
He grinned, gave me a thumbs-up and crawled away toward the creek.
Just then we heard a loud, mechanical pop and a whizzing overhead. A round disk hit the Mighty Mo and exploded. Mitch and Beach were laughing in their fort. “It’s a skeet thrower!” yelled Joe. “They’re launching clay pigeons!” The mechanical arm flung again just as Bubba-Bubba jumped up to run around the fort. He was too short to scale the wall. The clay pigeon hit Bubba-Bubba in the side and exploded. He fell against the fort, slid down, grabbed his side and started crying. He was out of the battle, not that he was ever really in it. No one would risk trying to tag him now. We were being bombed. The clay pigeons kept coming full force. They were launching them two at a time. Joe was knocking them out of the air with the slingshot, but he couldn’t hit all of them. There were too many, coming too fast. Meanwhile Beach circled out from the right of their fort and tagged first Charlie, then Marty and was about to tag Strongarm when I hit him in the leg with a blast from my tommy gun. The tommy guns were good, but only held twenty bullets. That was only good for about three or four quick blasts and then they had to be re-loaded. Under fire that could be difficult, so you had to pick your shots and make them count. Strongarm went down and suddenly we heard a loud boom. Drummer had scaled the creek bank in front of Snail. Snail hit him with the Sonic Blaster and knocked him and the Johnny Seven back down the bank and into the creek. Joe was drawing back to take out another clay pigeon when the rubber cord on his slingshot snapped. “Damn!” he yelled. “Tommy! Get back to the fort and bring me your Daisy, quick!” I crawled up the hill as fast as I could with clay pigeons hitting the ground all around me. About halfway there, I jumped up, ran, scaled the wall and landed beside Bubba-Bubba. He had crawled around the side of the fort and sat with his back against the front wall, still holding his side and blubbering. He didn’t ask me to tag him. I grabbed the BB gun, jumped over the side wall of the fort and ran down the hill toward Joe, tossing the Daisy to him just as a clay pigeon hit me in the shin and sent me sprawling face first into the leaves.
Joe caught the Daisy, cocked it and shot a clay pigeon. It broke in half and fell harmlessly to the earth. He began cocking and shooting furiously, hitting and exploding the disks in mid-air. Marty had tagged Strongarm back into the battle, gone down the creek bank, tagged Drummer, ran down the creek and popped up on our side in front of Billy, surprising him. Billy started to run toward a tree for cover when he tripped and fell. Marty ran to him and brought his M-14 up, ready to bury its bayonet in the ground next to Billy’s head. Billy brought up the air rifle and shot Marty point blank in the chest with the aluminum foil ball. It stuck on his fatigues above his name strip and he fell backwards with a look of shock on his face. Billy jumped the creek, started up the hill on their side and made it to cover behind a tree. Drummer was kneeling beside the creek putting the Johnny Seven back together. It had come apart when Snail knocked him down the creek bank with the Sonic Blaster. Billy loaded up the air rifle with the second aluminum foil ball and cocked it. He was going to try to take Mitch out at the skeet thrower. Joe was knocking the clay pigeons out of the air with the Daisy almost as soon as they became airborne. Billy advanced to another tree and could see Mitch loading the thrower. He could also see that the box of clay pigeons was almost empty. Now was the time. Billy stepped out from behind the tree, pulled the rifle up to his shoulder and yelled, “Hey, Mitch!” Mitch turned and looked at him, but just as Billy was about to pull the trigger a grenade hit him in the side and exploded. Strongarm had tossed one from behind a tree back up the hill and blown him to smithereens. All Billy could do now was watch.
Beach had made it back to their fort. He and Mitch began loading up the skeet thrower from the canvas bags. Their backs were to Billy, so he couldn’t see what they were putting on the mechanical arm. Another loud boom came from the creek bank down the hill. Charlie had scaled the creek bank in front of Joe, unaware that Snail had moved over in front of him with the blaster. Charlie went one way down the creek bank and his rifle went the other. Just then a slew of white balls came flying through the trees. “Golf balls!” yelled Brain. “They’re bombing us with golf balls!” Joe began shooting as fast as he could at them but as good a shot as he was, he couldn’t hit golf balls with a BB gun. Even if he could have, it wouldn’t have made much difference. Strongarm was back in their fort with Beach and Mitch. They were working in a line and loading the balls on the mechanical arm four or five at a time. Mitch was pulling the cord and firing them in a spray. “We’ve gotta get back to the fort!” yelled Brain. Joe, Snail and him were the only three left in the fight. Snail was still guarding the creek bank and was beneath the line of fire. Ever the strategist, he stayed put. He would be the last line of defense. Joe ran back up the hill and stood beside the fort, still trying to hit the barrage of balls with BBs. Just then a ball whistled in and caught him square in the gonads. Joe went down in a heap and lay in a fetal position, holding his crotch with both hands and writhing in agony. Brain snatched from his fatigues the dud grenade Strongarm had thrown at him, loaded it up with a Stik-M cap and, preparing to heave it into their fort, yelled, “Die, you commie commode holes!” There was little doubt that the big kid could hit the fort from that distance. He could throw a runner out at home plate from center field on one hop. Right before he threw, a ball that had sliced to the right hit him square in the front of the helmet with a loud clang. His eyes crossed and he hit the ground snoring. Brain was out like a light. Snail was the last man standing and Top-Flites and Titleists kept raining down. He started crawling back up the hill lugging the Sonic Blaster, when a ball popped him squarely on the left butt cheek. He let out a howl. Snail was down. We all were down. The battle was over.
Mitch could see us all on the ground except for Bubba-Bubba, who was still hiding in the fort. “White flag?” he yelled from across the creek. “Hell, no!” courageous commander Bubba-Bubba stood up and yelled. “We can’t fight, you idiot,” I said. “We’re all down!” “We’re not giving up,” he snarled. “No white flag!” “Suit yourself,” yelled Mitch and flung another salvo of balls in our direction. One almost hit Bubba-Bubba in the head and he quickly ducked to safety behind the wall of the fort. “White flag,” said Billy, still on the ground next to their fort. “Billy says white flag!” yelled Mitch. “White flag!” I yelled back. Bubba-Bubba made a chicken noise from behind the wall. They all six walked down to the creek, crossed over and came up the hill to our fort. “Howdy, boys,” Mitch said with a grin as he walked past us. Bubba-Bubba spat at him. They all laughed. Beach walked to the back of the fort and pulled up the pole with the U.S. Army flag Jerry had given Joe. “I’ll be taking this,” he said. They all headed back down the hill. Bubba-Bubba spat at them again as they walked past. They all laughed again and as they got to the creek, Mitch turned around and said, “See you boys tomorrow.”
Back at the fort, Joe limped in and sat down gingerly. “Man, that hurt,” he said. Brain sat eating his rations from the cooler. He was the only guy I knew who could get his bell rung and still be hungry. I unclipped my canteen from my belt and took three or four big gulps of water. My throat was parched. “I think my ribs are broken,” said Bubba-Bubba. “Your ribs aren’t broken,” said Joe.
“How do you know?”
“Because Jerry broke his ribs once playing football. He couldn’t breathe. They had to take him to the hospital. You’d know if your ribs were broken. We all would.
“You think you know everything. Maybe my parents will take me to the hospital tonight.”
“Where did Mitch get all those golf balls?” asked Snail.
“Probably from Misty Waters,” I said. “His dad’s a member. Mitch works there as a caddy sometimes. They’ve got thousands of golf balls, buckets full of them in their basement. I’ve seen them.” “How are we going to fight against that?” asked Billy. “I don’t know,” said Joe. “We’ll come up with something. Any ideas, Bubba-Bubba?” “I’m going home,” said the little commander. “I’m pretty sure my ribs are broken.” He gathered up his gear and left the fort holding his side. Joe watched him leave, laughed and shook his head. “Hey, Brain,” I said. “Commie commode holes?” Joe, Snail and Billy all laughed. “Hey, I was under extreme fire,” said Brain. “It just came out.” He finished his rations and said, “I’m going home. LSU and Pistol Pete are playing Kentucky on TV today.” “I’ve gotta go home and help the old man tune up the Fairlane,” I said. “Yeah, we’re going to the incinerator,” said Billy. “I’ve got a trig exam I’ve got to study for,” said Snail. “Alright, then, we meet back here tomorrow,” said Joe. “Tommy, give me a call tonight.” “Okay,” I said and we all went our separate ways, down but not defeated.