SATURDAY NIGHT MEMORIES
"Tomorrow," Newkirk said as he expertly dealt the cards, "Tomorrow is Saturday."
"And what is so special about Saturday?" asked LeBeau as he picked up his cards. "It is no different from any other day when you are imprisoned in a stalag in the middle of Germany!"
"Thanks for the reminder, I'd forgotten all about that," huffed Newkirk. "I meant nothin' in particular Louie. I was just makin' small talk."
"You mean you were just trying to distract us," put in Kinch as he studied the cards the Englishman had dealt him.
Newkirk looked up, an exaggeratedly stricken expression upon his face. "Kinch me old mate, you wound me deeply! I swear that wasn't me intention at all!"
Carter snickered at the byplay between his friends as he tried to formulate his strategy. The four men were gathered around the common table of their barracks, playing a few hands of poker. As there were no pending missions, life was currently in prison-camp-standard mode and boredom ran rampant.
There was silence as each man examined his cards, trying to decide which to discard.
Kinch finally threw two cards face down. "Two!"
Carter discarded three. "Give me three Peter!"
Newkirk obliged his friends' requests and looked expectantly at LeBeau.
"Well, Louis?"
"Ummmmm, I am still deciding." The Frenchman loved to deliberately irritate his impatient English friend, all the more so during a card game. As expected, Newkirk responded true to form.
"We ain't got all day mate!"
LeBeau gave Newkirk a scowl and gave up two cards. "I will take two, Pierre. From the top of the deck if you please!"
Newkirk didn't rise to the additional bait as he dealt the little Frenchman two cards. He set the deck down on the table and apprised his hand. He smirked happily and declared, "Dealer stands pat!"
A united groan arose from the other three men at the table.
"What is wrong wi' you lot?" growled Newkirk. He glared at his companions, daring them to make any further comment on his game.
"Here we go again!" sighed Kinch. "I don't know how productive this hand is going to be." He had seriously considered folding even before the bets got going, but decided to go ahead and play it through. The results were probably going to be the same no matter what he did. "Tomorrow's Saturday, huh?" he drawled as he rearranged his cards.
"Uh huh," grunted Newkirk.
"Man! Saturday was my favorite day back home. I spent many a Saturday night down in Paradise Valley."
His comment pricked the other men's interest as Kinch rarely spoke about such things.
"Paradise Valley?" said LeBeau. "I have never heard of any name like that."
Kinch chuckled. "Well, it was neither paradise or valley. From what I remember, there weren't even any trees or grass. It was just your typical rough neighborhood hard on the near east side of downtown Detroit. All of the clubs and cabarets were down there, offering up some of the best jazz bands you ever heard in your life."
"I love jazz," said Carter.
Newkirk raised his eyebrows when he heard that. "You, Andrew? Jazz? Wouldn't that be a bit disturbin' for the chickens and cattle?" I know it would be for me!
"Hey, I play a mean cornet!"
"I'll bet you do," Newkirk murmured sotto voce. He looked up and smiled at Carter patronizingly. "When you get yer 'ands on one, you'll 'ave to give us a sample!"
"I will boy, just to prove you wrong!"
Kinch stepped in before things got seriously nasty. "Now c'mon fellas. I'm sure Andrew here does play a mean cornet. Maybe we can get together after the war, you on your cornet and me on my bass."
"Is that where you learned to play the bass, Kinch?" asked LeBeau, trying to direct the conversation back to the intriguingly named Paradise Valley.
Kinch nodded. "I used to bus tables at The Chocolate Bar part-time. Oh my momma hated the fact that I worked down there, even though we needed the money bad. She was so worried I was going to go straight to Hell!"
"Well that remains to be seen," snarked Newkirk.
Kinch ignored the Englishman as he turned to LeBeau. "You know Louis, Paris had quite the jazz scene before the war."
"Oui Kinch, you are right. I spent many wonderful evenings in Montparnasse, listening to the American jazz bands! I will always remember the night I saw the beautiful American dancer, Josephine Baker! She moved like the very air!" He dropped his cards and jumped up to illustrate the dance routine he so vividly remembered.
Newkirk and Carter stared at the little Frenchman as he twirled and whirled theatrically between the table and the bunks, ending up in a mock pirouette beside the stove. Kinch laughed out loud at his antics.
"Louis, I can't tell you how much I envy you being able to see Josephine Baker perform!"
"Oh yes, Kinch. She was so very beautiful!"
"Don't suppose you 'ave any snaps, do you Louis?" asked Newkirk.
"No Pierre, unfortunately I do not!" LeBeau sat back down with a heavy sigh and picked up his cards. "Ah, to be in my Paris on Saturday night!"
"Ain't got nothin' on London mate!"
LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Oh please Pierre! Paris is the incomparable city of light! No other city can come close!"
Newkirk carefully laid his cards face down onto the table before he sat back to reply with a deliberately overblown French accent, "Oh con-traire mon ah-mi! Give me the Red Lion pub with a few pints of their best bitters, a game of darts and a pretty bird by me side any day! I whiled away many a pleasant Saturday evenin' wi' me mates that way!"
"And then what?" asked LeBeau.
"Whaddya mean, 'then what?' That's it! That's 'ow we relaxed! Drinkin', smokin', rabbitin' on about anythin' and everythin', playin' darts! Now there's a fine evening's entertainment for ya!"
The next comment caught the Englishman completely off guard.
"Y'all haven't lived until you've been in downtown Bullfrog on a Saturday night!"
"Wot?" came a strangled cry as Newkirk dissolved into gales of laughter. He laughed so hard he literally fell out of his chair to roll around on the floor, completely giving in to his hilarity.
Doing his level best to ignore Newkirk, Carter continued, "Let me tell you, it could get pretty wild!"
"Wild 'e says! Blimey! Ooh, I…I…can't breathe…." Newkirk sat up as he tried to recover himself.
"You don't know what it was like when the wheat harvest was laid aside! The fellas would all come to town to blow off steam! The drugstore was packed, boy!"
"What flavor of sodas were they drinking Andrew?" asked Kinch.
"Chocolate, what else?"
Newkirk finally dragged himself up from the floor and he remained standing as he wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Didn't the people back 'ome realize that they could drink beer, Andrew?"
"Oh well yeah, of course there were saloons there, but they were on the other side of the railroad tracks."
Kinch nodded slowly. "And of course you never ventured over there just to, you know, see what was going on?"
"Gosh no Kinch! Why would I do that?" Carter was horrified by the mere suggestion that he would even think about setting foot in any of Bullfrog's local dens of iniquity.
"No reason in particular, just wondering if you were ever curious."
"Well, sometimes. But my mom and dad told me not to ever go over there! Where I come from, if your parents tell you not to do something, you don't do it."
Newkirk and LeBeau looked at each other in astonishment. Newkirk's mouth popped open and then shut just as quickly.
Kinch shook his head and laughed, "You're a good son Andrew." He paused, looking at each of his friends in turn before he next spoke. "Can you guys believe this? Look at the four of us! We're all so completely different, I mean we can't even agree on the best way to spend a Saturday night and yet we work together so well!"
"Oui," agreed LeBeau.
"Yeah," sighed Newkirk.
"You're right, Kinch," said Carter.
The men were silent for a moment afterwards, then Newkirk sat back down and picked up his cards.
"Well gents, can we at least agree to finish our game?"
The other three looked at each other and nodded.
"Right then! Five to stay in!"
The men all anted up and the good-natured game played by four close friends continued.
