Dickie Bird

“Don't you boys go anywhere. Your Dad is coming home at four to take you to the provost marshal.” This was mom. The provost marshal is the chief of police on a military base. 'You boys were me and my brother’, Dickie Bird. I was puzzled. I hadn’t really done much of anything lately where I could get caught. Dickie Bird said he hadn’t done too much. Too much? Oh. That could mean anything. I asked what it was but he fluffed me off because he had to come up with a story he thought would fly or, failing that, would confuse the issue.

I hated going to the Military Police with no clue as to why I was going there. I always had the general idea we’d did something wrong. I was pretty quick on my feet but it was always useful to know what they had on me. The old man came home right at four, scowled and pointed his thumb at the car. He always thought we were guilty, no matter what. That was reasonable but not fair. He didnt speak to us or anything like that. He never said anything to us. If we upset him he would say to Mom, “You better do something about those boys.” He was more worried about this than we were.

We got to the MP office and were told to wait. I wanted to get Dickie to let me in on the story so I could back it up but with an MP and the old man sitting there, I thought I should be quiet. My brother didn’t seem concerned but he never did. I didn’t know if he was going to use the Mr. Innocent look or The I’m Shocked You’d Think That look. Maybe he’d just deny it or play dumb. Maybe he had some story ready for whatever we did or he did. That was always a fear. His stories could be a little far-fetched. That they were lies didn’t mean much to him.

They finally came and got us. We went into an office where a sergeant sat at a desk rifling through some papers. I guess it was to rattle us. It didn’t. We we’d been here before. This had to be a new MP. An MP private was also there. I guess so we couldn’t make a break for it. We were twelve and ten. Where would we go? We were a little bit nervous because even at that age we knew the odds couldn’t be in our favor every time. So far, we had not been actually charged or even really accused of anything but the law of probability, which we never heard of, applied to us as well as anyone else. The sergeant finished his ruffling through papers. I think the rifling through the papers was to make us anxious enough to blurt out a confession or wet our pants. Something like that. Well, neither of those things. were going to happen. This wasn't our first visit to the provost marshal. After a few minutes, the sergeant set the papers aside and asked, “Okay, where’d ya get the Girl Scout cookies?”

Now, there needs to be some background. The MP’s were scared of any officer over the rank of Master Sergeant. Those guys got away with everything. That was because they could get a MP transferred to Greenland. No one wanted to go there. They were also scared shitless of long termed Master Sergeant. Those guys got that rank during a war. They could get you transferred to Fort Riley, Kansas. There was nothing there, not even a tree.

The old man had 16 years in the National Guard when called up before the War. He was a Captain during the war and was now a Master-Sergeant. The MPs were dealing with a man with 28 years of service. That went a long way toward keeping out of any real trouble with them. While they could get us banned, they could go someplace they didn’t want to go.

Girl Scout cookies? That was what this was about? It was such an insignificant thing, I’d almost forgotten it. A bunch of us were going by the social hall when we noticed the bottom panel of the door was cracked. Someone, it may have been me, kicked it and it broke open. Since it was open we decided to see what was in there we might want. The problem was, the opening was too small for any of us to get through. Any of us except Dickie Bird. He was so teensy-weensy he could get through any place. He said he was reluctant but we said he wasn’t. In he went.

He came back with a big box of Girl Scout cookies. Inside were a lot of smaller boxes of cookies. We all took what we wanted and went about our business. It was such a dinky event for us that it made no impression on me. It did on Dickie Bird. He came up with a scheme to make it pay off. He got our smaller and easily intimidated sister to dress in her Brownie uniform and he took her around the housing selling the cookies door to door. At least he tried to. Girl Scout cookies aren't sold that way and someone called the MP's on him. A patrolman caught up with him, confiscated the cookies, took his name and said he’d be hearing from the provost marshal. Dickie Bird didn’t think he needed to share that with me.

Why I had to go with him was beyond me when I thought about it later. I guess the MPs figured if he did something I was involved. That was true but they didn’t know that for sure. That’s when things really went wrong. Dickie Bird could have said almost anything and we would have been free and clear and just a couple of little kids caught up in some thieving. He could have said anything except what he did say. “How did you get the cookies?”

“You know up on the hill where they’re doing all that work? Well, it’s really dark up there. I was playing there when some older kid asked me if I wanted some cookies. Then he reached under his cape and-”

“Did you say cape?” The sergeant was all upset with that one. He may have thought he’d heard it all but he'd never heard that. I was completely flabbergasted and almost laughed out loud. Cape!

“Yea,” Dickie Bird told him.

“A cape? You mean like Superman?”

“Huh? No. I mean like Zorro,” Dickie Bird told him as he made imaginary slashes with an imaginary sword in the shape of a Z. “He didn't have a hat or a mask but-”

“But what,”the MP said.

“Well, like I said, it was real dark up there. I think he stole them but they where mine now. What’s the problem?”

Bear in mind that kids had no real right to live on a base. All the MPs needed to do do was declare we weren’t allowed on base. If that happened, the old man either had to get housing off base or send us someplace else to live. We thought about who would be willing to take us in. We couldn’t think of anyone that dumb. I had a friend living with his sister from being banned from the base he was at. The Army didn’t care about that as long as you weren’t on their base.

Still, the MPs didn’t believe Dickie Bird’s story they did patrol the renovated area just in case. They also had a tendency to watch us more closely.