Transition Plan Chapter 64: In His Majesty's Service Part 13

Author's Notes: It's the day after Thanksgiving Day in the States, a time when we Americans gather around family and consider our blessings. I am very grateful for a loving wife and family, and for her support of my writing. I am also thankful for a vast readership that supports this story, so in a response for my gratitude, I present to you a nice long chapter that you can read and enjoy with your Thanksgiving leftovers and when you get bored with competing with all the other shoppers on Black Friday sales! Speaking of competitions, this story starts out with a quick snapshot of Jack and Jeanne playing several more Nigerian games together, but then things get much more serious as Tarzan and Col. Jacot practice with the soldiers for the operation in Kamina.

…

For several days, the children continued to play games together after their morning chores. Jeanne built good friendships with all of Jack's friends. Because of all the interactions during the games, Jeanne learned the basics of their Nigerian languages quickly. She was fairly language adept already, due to her Italian and Greek heritage, besides her native French.

Just like she took to the languages easily, so Jeanne adjusted to all the games the children played.

Kpokoro was a game just for girls. Coincidentally, it was simply the Nigerian version of the "Follow the Leader" game which she played with French girls. The Nigerian girls were more adventurous and athletic in what they would challenge each other to do, which Jeanne found refreshing. The boys would just admire the girls and place bets on who could or could not match the leader. Jack paid close attention to all of Jeanne's actions, and he caught her eye a number of times. She just smiled demurely at him.

Ata soc was a good resting game that everyone could play, as it was a charade game. The game leader mimicked the actions or sounds of various jungle animals and the children would have to guess. Jeanne was better at this than she thought. Jack was the undisputed master of this game, acting out nearly every jungle creature, often humorously. Jeanne enjoyed how entertaining he was. Ndidi was the best guesser, even with obscure creatures that Jack would try to stump his fellows with. It was clear to Jeanne that Jack and Ndidi had many fun jungle adventures together, and Jeanne worried a little that her presence in both their lives would change that friendship.

Another fun resting game was Ibo or Ifang, depending on the tribe, which involved guessing how many small objects a person had in their hand. Seeds, small shells, and pebbles were easy to hold and hide, though on one turn, Jack hid a bug in his hand that caused Jeanne to shriek and punch him not so playfully, as she complained, "Jack! You big jerk!"

The kids knew Jack never intimidated Jeanne, and it was fun to see her give back just as much as he dished out. That incident only made her secretly plot to 'get even' with him.

Ekak was especially entertaining, as everyone would have to hide their eyes while the person who was 'it' would bury a braided rope ring in the sand on the beach. Everyone then had to use a stick to poke and probe around in the sand at places it was suspected the ring was buried to find it and pull it out. The 'ring finder' would win, and got to bury it next. The good players would leave false trails. It was a great game. Time would just fly by doing this game.

Alasusu was an indoor version of Ekak the kids played in the communal food storage longhouse during a tropical rain storm one day, using a rounded stone buried in baskets of seeds or grain. Jeanne got her revenge on Jack by hiding a gigantic rhinoceros beetle deep in the grain, and as Jack reached around deep in one of the bushels to find the 'stone', the beetle's enormous pincers grabbed his thumb at the provocation and wouldn't let go. His look of shock, and then all the shouting and jumping around in pain made Jeanne double over in laughter, but she quickly soothed his wound. She was really worried the beetle had hurt him, or she had hurt his feelings, but he shook it off and was impressed with her clever revenge. Her trick didn't make him mad, but it emboldened him try to outdo her prank. And he had just the venue to do it.

The next game they played Jeanne thought she was very familiar with was translated: "Who Picks the Flag First?" It sounded like it was like the French or English versions of "Capture the Flag" that involved entire teams and elaborate strategy. It wasn't. Each team sent a single adversary against another from the other team to get the flag, and it was their responsibility to grab the flag, dodge their opponent, and race back to their home team without being touched, or they had to put the flag back. If both tries at the flag ended with one opponent touching the other, the next pair of competitors challenged each other. Jeanne was too anxious to play this game, so she didn't pay attention to the nuances of the Nigerian version of the game. Late in the game, it was still a stalemate. Every player face-off had ended with failure to subdue the flag for either team.

Jeanne had to go head-to-head against Jack, which elicited a lot of friendly teasing and snickers about the 'lovebirds' taking on each other, amusing both of them, but Jeanne was not ready for a one vs. one battle against Jack. While she concentrated on how to steal the flag and run it back to her team's home without Jack catching her, leveraging her dance moves against him, she failed to recognize that the Nigerian version of the game permitted Jack to simply overpower her, steal her as a prisoner, fling her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, walk forward, pluck the flag from its mound, and simply saunter back to his own home team 'safe zone' to win the game. All of Jeanne's fruitless protestations, shrieking, wiggling, kicking, and exasperated groaning to wrestle herself free from Jack's steel grip were highly entertaining to the others.

She protested vehemently, "Jack! Stop! Put me down! I demand a fair fight. You Nigerians cheat at this game! Put me down, I say. I can outrun you if you just put me down, jungle boy!"

By now, everyone knew that 'jungle boy' was her term of endearment – and sometimes, like now, her label of annoyance – for Jack. Both teams were laughing wholeheartedly, totally beside themselves at Jeanne's predicament directly caused by her boyfriend. While the pair didn't use that word, privately everyone else did. It was so obvious. Especially now. Her protestations were cute, not truly angry.

He ignored her complaints and struggles and just kept walking with the flag in one hand, and her thrown over his shoulder in an unbreakable grip, and chuckled too proudly. Her annoyed look upside down over his shoulder was priceless.

"I hate you, Jonathon Robert Clayton the Fourth!" she complained, balled her fists, and pounded on his back and shoulders, but not too hard.

"Oh really? I couldn't tell…" he quipped.

He was right. In fact, what was happening was the exact opposite of hate. They were falling for each other on a day-by-day basis. She knew clearly that if in a life or death situation, Jack would never let her go or let anyone capture her. It made her feel very secure, even if she was upset he had completely thwarted her in her attempt to win this game.

Jane and Josephine saw all the commotion from across the play area, and just smiled at their fake quarrel. Like good mothers, both monitored their children's play. Both women had seen their relationship blossom and how much they loved competing against each other.

Back in the safety of his home team circle, Jack put Jeanne down gently, hugged her tightly while his team celebrated the victory, and as she faked a struggle to break free, Jack explained his false logic as an excuse to hug her, "I have to hold you so you won't run away. You're my prisoner!"

She smirked in mild protestation, "But Jack, the game's over. You won. I don't need to escape now."

Jack feigned ignorance, smirked, continued his embrace with her. She raised an eyebrow as he said, "Oh... Well… Hmm... I have to make sure."

"Did you ever think maybe I don't want to escape from you?" she giggled, stopped her struggling, and instead buried her head against his neck and shoulders. Jack knew there was no response needed for that.

In that special moment, amidst the celebration of Jack's team's win, Jack and Jeanne savored their wonderful hug. She gave him a sweet cheek kiss, which he returned, much to her complete delight. Her cheek felt comfortably warm, and she closed her eyes and unconsciously rubbed the kiss in, like a goodnight kiss from her parents. Jack noticed. "Lily does that too," he thought, and he smiled at her.

She never let him touch her during the next game. In fact, Jeanne literally snatched the flag from Jack in a graceful ballet-style overhead leap and flip, and raced swiftly back home to win the next game for her team, shouting with glee at her victory, surrounded by the joyous shouts of her happy teammates. Few people had faster reflexes than Jack, and it was impressive to them what Jeanne had done. She stuck her tongue far out at him with a lot of noise, shook her head at him, and squinted defiantly, planting the flag firmly in her team's home turf. He stood back and laughed hard at her victorious glare. Jeanne had pretty soundly bested him in that encounter, and everyone was truly impressed by the French girl. They were all good friends but competed hard and never held back. She fit into their little group perfectly.

But on a day-to-day basis, Cyc became her favorite game. Her basque pelote championship skills quickly showed through, and everyone wanted to be on her team. She consistently bested Jack's team. It didn't really bother him. Her racquet skills were truly amazing to him, and all the children improved their playing skills because of Jeanne. The adults who played Cyc wanted no part of taking on the children. They'd mop the floor with the adults.

But one day, the children discovered the French and English soldiers and Nigerian warriors had taken over their playing field.

"Awww, darn those adults…" Ndidi lamented.

"What can we do?" asked one of the others.

Another child remembered, "Well, there's an empty field on the other side of the village. The adults gathered all the crops the other day. Let's go!"

All the children agreed, and everyone, except Jack and Jeanne, started toward the clearing.

"Aren't you coming?" Ndidi asked.

Jack wasn't really paying attention to his friend, since he was captivated with the soldiers exercising and sparring, and especially that his father was training with them. Jeanne saw this in his eyes.

"Uh… we'll catch up later, Ndidi," Jeanne answered in Igbo for Jack, "We want to watch our fathers."

"OK, but we're going to play Cyc again," Ndidi offered with an enticing lilt in her voice.

This time her temptation didn't work, and Jeanne didn't really answer either, as she was also drawn to the sight of her father training with his men and Tarzan, so Ndidi shrugged and left. Jack and Jeanne watched their fathers intently.

"Dad? Can we watch?" Jack asked Tarzan in French.

"Yes, but stay out of the way," he cautioned.

"Oui," they said in chorus.

Their fathers permitted the young people to watch safely from the edge of the open field where the Nigerian children had played daily. The kids plopped down right next to each other in the shade under a tree. She gathered his arm into hers, and smiled. Jack was quite pleased that happened, and he grinned back. They normally wordlessly accepted the little signs of affection toward one another, but this time it deserved a response.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked. In response, she squeezed tighter, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I am now," she said contentedly, looking up into Jack's very happy eyes.

Both fathers noticed but this was not the time to separate them. And part of them didn't want to.

...

Initially, the men started a regimen of getting themselves back in shape with calisthenics, practice knife drills, wrestling, and other forms of simulated hand to hand combat. They also set up a temporary rifle range to judiciously practice their pistol and rifle marksmanship skills.

The remnant of French Special Forces, augmented by handpicking the most able-bodied of D'Arnot's sailors, and a few of the British garrison with the needed combat skills for jungle operations had nearly replenished the group's original size and capability. What they lacked in the equipment they'd lost or damaged, their combined allied forces had the necessary physical punch to make their operations successful.

Tarzan trained with the men and stood toe-to-toe with them in every exercise. He bested nearly every soldier in all forms of fighting training and physical skills in their drills, and lost only a couple of times to the Colonel and several of his best-trained men. He gained everyone's respect - from men whose careers were all about combat and fighting. This man of peerage was no weakling.

"Tres bien, Count Clayton. The Admiral was right," Armand said with great respect as he got to see the jungle man's talents first-hand, pitted against himself and his premier French fighters.

Tarzan joked, "My dear friend Philippe has always been prone to overrating my skills, but merci, Colonel."

Overhearing this all-French conversation, Jeanne knew exactly where Jack got his humility. She smiled and looked into Jack's eyes, while Jack admired his father in yet another life lesson of how men with great skill and responsibility must behave around others.

Jeanne took quick note of that admiration, noting how Tarzan bested her father in several of their matches, and complimented, "Your father really is the best fighter out there. Even better than my dad!"

"Merci, Jeanne. Well… I don't know about that. Your dad is really good too. And he knows stuff my dad doesn't. I'm always proud of him, but probably most proud when he can win a fight with just words. I want to be just like him."

That impressed Jeanne even more. It didn't surprise her, based on how they resolved their first encounter.

She turned to him, and interlaced her fingers with his as they sat with their arms already entwined, and dared to ask, "Jack… umm… when you get bigger and stronger, will you protect me?"

Jeanne had just admitted she wanted a long friendship with him. He couldn't be happier.

Jack answered, "Yes, Jeanne, I will protect you then, but I'll bet you'll be as good at protecting yourself all grown up as you are now."

His temple where the slingshot hit him was still a little sore.

Her heart soared with his compliment and his long-term promise. She wanted that to be so much, "I will if you keep teaching me."

"Count on it…" he noted with the deliberate pun. She giggled and lurched her side into him at that, almost knocking them both over. They both laughed.

They felt just as close to each other emotionally as they were physically, with entwined arms and hands. They watched their fathers, seeing that the drills had changed.

...

The basic physical training ended, and the men took up their weapons for the next phase of training - marksmanship.

Tarzan refused to take any gun. That caused some consternation among the men, but D'Arnot and Jacot understood. That had already been established with those leaders, but Jack was very anxious. He was afraid the men would force him to accept a firearm. That went against every principle his father had.

Tarzan understood refusing a gun wasn't enough to satisfy the men. They did not understand. Tarzan knew he needed to assuage the men's uneasiness. He could tell a number of them were thinking that the Jungle Lord would be a liability unarmed. He needed to show them otherwise with something graphic.

Tarzan turned to Armand requested, "Colonel. Shoot me."

"I beg your pardon, Count Clayton?" asked Armand in shock.

Tarzan clarified, "I said to you, sir: 'shoot me'. Load your gun with the rubber practice bullets and use me for a target."

The Colonel was indignant at the request, "I will do no such thing, Count. You are essential to this operation. Rubber or not they could still badly hurt you. I won't take that chance. Our numbers and resources are limited enough. Without you we have no chance at all."

Tarzan tried to calm him, "I do not intend to be hurt. I assure you I will not be. Let me show you, and let me practice, or I might really be hurt when we are out there with real bullets."

It was maddening that Tarzan was always right about things, "All right. I will do as you request, Lord Clayton."

Jeanne and Jack became very tense. Jack had heard the stories of his father dodging bullets, especially against his terrible relative long ago, but this was real life, even with practice rounds. He was glad his mother was not here. She would have pitched a fit against his dad doing this. When she got upset, even the angriest water buffalo would cower. He'd witnessed it personally.

Tarzan, Armand, and a small group of men, including their medic, moved from the clearing into the jungle for a more realistic venue of encountering a German patrol in the jungle near Kamina – a mix of open grass and tangled jungle. The rest of the men gathered around the practice area.

Jack got up, and said, "C'mon Jeanne, we need to watch this."

He grabbed her hand and they rushed to see the exercise. Armand saw them and shouted, "Keep a safe distance, you two!"

"We will, mon Pere," Jeanne replied obediently.

Jack looked up into the tree canopy and pointed, "There's a branch up there with a perfect view."

"OK. But I am not that good at climbing. Can you help me?" she requested.

Jack helped her swing around on his back, she encircled his neck with her arms, and wrapped her legs around his waist and locked them. This piggyback position felt very comfortable, and she let Jack know by stealing a quick peck to the back of his neck. He was so excited he almost dropped her. Thus secured, Jack grabbed a vine, and they quickly climbed together. Jeanne continued to be surprised at his strength. On his back she could feel the hardness of his muscles as they flexed in the climb. Once on the branch, they perched side-by-side. As a dancer, she had very good balance, but she let Jack put his arm around her to help steady her anyway, and leaned into his embrace. "That's nice, Jack," she assured him with a slight giggle. That little trill of hers always told him that everything was well.

On the ground in below them, Tarzan removed his knife, stretched and flexed, and assumed a truly fearsome pose against Armand.

"Ready?" Armand asked tentatively.

Tarzan presented a picture of a man who could indeed dodge bullets, and Armand pitied any real foe to be on the receiving end of the Jungle Lord's knife. This was the same man whom he learned had killed a great jungle cat with his bare hands and a broken blade, not to mention a gigantic snake with the very knife he had in his hand. That story was still unnerving to the French Colonel. He felt very under matched against Tarzan, gun or not. Armand had already lost two out of three wrestling matches with the jungle Lord, one of them convincingly. Nearby, with a sly grin, Philippe watched the Count, knowing the French Special Forces were in for a real surprise.

"Ready!" Tarzan growled.

His reply was barely human. The Colonel could not return the feral look in the Count's eyes. It was the furious look of a cornered wild animal.

Armand sighed and could not believe he was sizing Tarzan up in his sights. The rubber bullets, if they hit him, would leave stinging welts and they could in fact damage his eyes. He was careful where he aimed.

He fired and Tarzan leaped out of the way. In fact, he was already gone.

Everyone gasped.

"Do it again," Tarzan ordered gutturally.

The Colonel fired a second rubber bullet.

Tarzan ducked at this upper body shot and rolled away using a mossy rock to block the shot.

"Add another gun," the ape man demanded.

"Count Clayton? Please. I fear for your safety," Armand pleaded.

Tarzan warned, "Do it. Fear more for yours. I am not going to get back into shape if I don't practice like the Germans will fight. I haven't been shot at in years. I am not so foolish to think the Germans will take turns firing one at a time politely."

The English gentry were well known for their dry humor, and Armand almost laughed. This was serious business, and he hardly looked like an English gentleman in his loincloth, so Armand acknowledged, "As you wish."

One gun at a time was added, and he dodged every bullet continuously, used the jungle foliage to block a shot, and even more amazingly, he deflected shots out of the way with his knife. Soon there were four guns aimed at him, almost the size of a normal German deep jungle squad that could attain a line of sight bead on him. The French fired at random and he caused them to miss every time, using only his reflexes and the cover of the jungle to avoid every shot.

"Add the fifth shooter," demanded Tarzan. He didn't even look winded.

"Uhh… OK," Armand agreed, but was very worried that it would not end well at this point. He would stop if this escalated any further.

The firing-at-will continued, but one unanticipated shot grazed Tarzan's side and he winced, "Ow!"

"Cease fire!" Armand ordered. This had to stop now.

"No! Keep firing," Tarzan countermanded, "We are not done yet."

The children were astonished. Jack had never seen his father in action like this.

The gunfire was a cacophony.

In a dervish of twists and turns, leaps, dives, rolls and jerks in every direction, Tarzan actually advanced on the soldiers with even more intensity, deflecting or dodging the streaming practice bullets.

"It's time to end this," Tarzan thought.

In a surprise twist of tactics, Tarzan used his knife to force every rubber bullet to ricochet right back to its source. Each soldier cried out in pain with the deflected rubber bullets disarming them one by one, hitting an arm or a trigger finger or wrist or a leg, or completely separating the marksmen from their weapons. One man got hit in the neck. It left a three-inch welt and the soldier dropped to the ground squirming in pain.

Tarzan was so close to the soldiers that he took out three of the marksmen hand-to-hand with his fists, legs, and the butt of his knife blade, including an astonished Armand. The remaining gunmen had to stop shooting, lest they fire on each other.

As Colonel Jacot lay helpless on the ground, he realized that Tarzan had controlled every deflection to the exact place each soldier was hit. He was in total amazement. Nothing human had reflexes like that. But he only realized the obvious. Tarzan was no mere human.

Had his men been the Germans, the five shooters would be on the ground dead, or seriously wounded, or at least separated from their firearms. Everyone of the squad was on the ground, groaning and rubbing the bee-like stings from the practice bullets or Tarzan's strikes.

It was all done with Tarzan's knife or bare hands against the top echelon of French professional Special Operations soldiers. Armand understood what an asset Tarzan would be against the Germans in Togoland, who would be only militia, composed of volunteers or citizens. Tarzan's presence was like having a dozen more men. All the legends about this man were true, and he was grateful Tarzan was on the side of the Allies. Armand would never want to face him in combat.

Not only the five were impressed at this display, including the Colonel, but a hundred other British, French, and Nigerian warriors arrayed just outside the edge of the jungle on the grounds stood in utter disbelief at Tarzan's display of defensive prowess. Abassi was on the grounds today to watch the weapons practice, and could scarcely comprehend what he saw. But this was not the first time he'd seen Tarzan in action. He flashed back to nearly a decade ago and remembered what his dear friend did to the oilmen.

Jeanne and Jack were bug-eyed seeing Jack's father dodge, deflect, and redirect every bullet, and take down five armed men, including Jeanne's father, with only his knife and leave no lasting damage, taking only a grazing welt to the side himself.

Tarzan stood over his 'kill', and his eyes and demeanor regained their humanity. He realized long ago the danger his kin - well-armed men like John Clayton - had presented, and the even greater danger Sir Cedric and his henchmen posed. Jane's kidnapping, attempted murder, and the showdown at the Destiny's dock showed how vile civilized men could be with weapons and the dangers they posed for his family. His deranged cousin Clayton had killed his adopted father Kerchak and would have killed him and Jane and his father in law. After surviving all those dangers, Tarzan vowed, no matter how hard a killer tried to harm him and his expanding family, he would defeat his foes without using their methods. The Germans were no less a foe.

He sheathed his knife and stood tall, He said confidently for all to hear, "That is why I don't need a gun. Gentlemen, I am very sorry for any pain I caused you."

He assisted them to stand and recover. The warriors of three nations applauded and cheered, even those he temporarily injured. His son and Jeanne joined the cheering.

"Jack?" Jeanne turned to him and asked, "Can you do that?"

Jack loved that Jeanne so readily assumed that he had or was learning his father's skills. No English girl had ever accepted that being 'of the jungle' was to be considered respectable behavior. But then, Jack reminded himself, Jeanne was no English girl.

Jack answered, "Not yet. I am not fast enough. And I've never seen Dad fight like this. I can dodge Mom's blunt practice arrows and Dad's practice knife throws even though it upsets Mom that she or Dad would ever fight me. Someday I am going to learn how Dad does this. And then I can really protect you from anything. Just like Dad can protect Mom."

The inference from their earlier conversation, warmed her heart and she hugged him, cupped his jaw, and kissed him emphatically on the cheek. The intensity of that cheek kiss nearly made him fall out of the tree, and he gave her a really goofy grin. She just smiled back at her intentional 'surprise'.

"He's so cute!" she thought as she grinned.

Theirs was a deep, and rapidly deepening, friendship.

That was all the practice the Allies did for that day. That was certainly enough. Tarzan knew that when Jane found out later, and she would, that she would chide him, but then realize quickly that this had to be.

Jack and Jeanne both heard the children calling their names, and Jack said to her, "Ready to go play?"

"Always, Jack…" she said tenderly, holding and squeezing his hand.

She left unsaid, but thought, "Always, Jack… as long as it is with you".

But he understood her exactly. He was almost nine, after all.