Chapter 6 – Wild Boy of Aveyron
By the time Christmas came again, things were different for Kinch.
After their trip to Paris, Hogan convinced Kinch to tell the rest of the team about Billy. The other members of Hogan's core group reacted with sadness when they heard about his nephew and were determined to help in any way they could. They made sure that the already private Kinch could still have personal time if needed and he also had first chance to claim any extra writing paper Hogan was able to get out of Klink.
As it turned out, Kinch desperately needed the support of others as the months went by. During the summer, the Axis powers gleefully broadcast details of a race riot happening back in Detroit. The tale included melees on bridges as well as black residents being pulled from streetcars and beaten. President Roosevelt was forced to temporarily send troops to stop the violence. In the end, the events had killed some and injured many more. The Axis powers tried to portray this as a sign of the United States weakening under pressure from war, although Kinch and the other Americans in camp didn't believe it for one second. Although the American POWs were aware of existing racial tensions, they also knew that the United States was still considered by many as a beacon of freedom in the world and this riot was only a small disruption in an otherwise peaceful and, most importantly, free country.
But that didn't mean that Kinch still wasn't troubled by the tale. Kinch was agonized as he tried to find out if his family had gotten caught up in the violence. The other members of the barracks helped keep him calm. Finally, a short note from his sister—who told him all were well- finally arrived.
Now Kinch sat in his usual spot in front of the radio, with a latest letter from Josephine. Since the news about Billy was out in the open, there was no need for bribes for Schultz. When the men learned the letter was from her, they let him have his privacy. As it turned out, it was a short note expressing holiday greetings.
December 7, 1943
Dear Ivan,
Merry Christmas! It's hard to believe that it's already been two years since the nation was attacked and we were brought into this war. Although I am sad that you are stuck in that prison camp and don't get to spend another holiday season with us, I am so proud you chose to serve. Maybe I will see you next holiday?
Things are going better. Billy is still having temper tantrums, but they are not as severe. There is never a dull moment raising him.
In honor of your service and in honor of the season, I am enclosing a gift from Billy. I am hoping that it will not be confiscated. Billy's Sunday school class cut out Stars of Bethlehem from paper and I wanted you to have it. Are you allowed to have trees in the barracks?
Have a Happy Holiday,
Josephine Kinchloe Harris
Kinch breathed a sigh of relief. There was no anxious, desperate tone to Josephine's letter this time. Although he was stressed that Billy was still having temper tantrums to express himself, he was glad their intensity had lessened.
Kinch took out a star created from paper from the envelope. It was brightly colored silver. He smiled that it had survived the trip and even had a hole so it could be used as an ornament. He looked forward to putting it on the small tree that Hogan kept in his office.
He wished he could send something to Billy in return. He noticed that his wood carving of an airplane was nearby and it was still unfinished. He sighed—he was going to finish it and give it to his nephew when he got home.
He also sighed when he realized that he now needed to send a letter back and as usual, he didn't know what to say. Although he was encouraged that Billy was participating in Sunday school projects, Kinch didn't know to what extent. Did Billy cut out the star or did Josephine? He also cynically deduced that his two and half year old nephew probably still wasn't talking because Josephine would have definitely mentioned that.
For the millionth time, Kinch wondered how this was possible. How could he—the communications expert on Hogan's team—have a nephew with communication problems?
There was no word from London as he listened in the headphones. Kinch appreciated the break in the activity and walked up the tunnel ladder to the main barracks area. It was fairly empty but Kinch shouldn't have expected otherwise— he knew Newkirk and Carter were washing and waxing the Kommandant's car, with Hogan supervising.
Kinch smiled as he realized that the fifth member of Hogan's inner circle was still in the barracks. Corporal Louis LeBeau—the crew's resident chef and Frenchman—had something on the stove.
Kinch walked over to Hogan's office and quickly hung Billy's paper star on the tiny tree. He pulled the tree out and showed LeBeau. LeBeau—still immersed with the end of dinner preparation- gave a thumbs up sign.
Kinch glanced down at the stove before he sat at the center table. He watched as LeBeau added some more pepper to a red sauce.
Kinch was dying of curiosity. "Smells delicious, LeBeau. What is it?"
LeBeau looked proud as he faced Kinch. "Merci! It is Hiboux au vin."
It took only a second for Kinch's French fluency to catch up to him. He tried not to act disgusted. "We're eating owls?"
LeBeau looked sad. "It is wartime—how could I get my hands on a tough, old rooster? With this meal, we're lucky the vin aged as long as it did."
Kinch looked amazed. "I understand that but what did those poor things do to deserve this fate?"
LeBeau sighed. "They just happened to be sleeping on a branch when Newkirk and Carter cut the tree in work detail."
Kinch half laughed. "Those poor birds."
LeBeau huffed. "Poor birds? What about poor moi—I had to pull out all those hair like feathers myself!"
Kinch laughed but his laugh soon turned to a moan when he saw the empty sheet of paper in front of him.
LeBeau noticed his concern. "Problem, mon ami?"
Kinch sadly looked up at LeBeau. "Yeah—I never know what to write. How can I not know what to say to my own sister? I swear that this is the most unique problem I've ever heard of. I'm sure no one has ever known about someone who had issues like Billy."
LeBeau looked happy. "But Kinch… I have. Not totally similar but similar traits."
Kinch was momentarily speechless. LeBeau knew of a similar situation? He could have had help much earlier! He was now kicking himself for keeping silent about Billy's issues before.
"Who do you know?" he asked.
LeBeau took one final look at the stove before sitting down next to Kinch. "I don't know anyone personally. This person comes from a sermon I once heard my priest give. It is the story of Victor, who was nicknamed Wild Boy of Aveyron. The story is over a hundred years old."
Kinch smirked. "Ah—then you wouldn't know him, then."
LeBeau began his tale. "Around the time Napoleon was seizing power over France, villagers of Saint-Sernin-sur-Rance discovered a boy living alone in the woods nearby. When they brought him to town, he kicked at them. They asked him who he was and where his family was but the boy could say nothing."
Kinch's ears perked up. It was obvious that the child in this story did have something in common with Billy.
LeBeau continued. "The villagers had the boy stay with a family but it didn't work out. It was apparent that things were different with the Wild Boy, as he was nicknamed. The boy would constantly rock back and forth for no reason at all. The strange behavior caused the villagers to keep him in a cage in the village square. Eventually the boy ran away."
Kinch listened to this part in disbelief—what a miserable existence this boy had! First, being all alone in the forest, and then being exhibited in a cage?
"He was found near another village and this time, hunters came out to get the Wild Boy back. Instead of being happy to be with humans again, the anti-social boy tried to run up a tree. He was brought back, only to disappear again. Over the years, this happened many times. Finally, he was brought to civilization for good. He was sent to Paris to live at the Institution Nationale des Sourds-Muets. But like your nephew Billy, the Wild Boy could hear despite not being able to speak."
Kinch sat up straighter. The story was becoming more relevant by the minute.
LeBeau continued. "Many people wanted to meet him, including Napoleon's younger brother. Most of the doctors declared him a hopeless idiot, but one doctor did not. Dr. Itard thought the boy could be taught and took his case up. He brought the boy, whom he named Victor, into his home. He and his housekeeper showed him letters and numbers and worked diligently to further the boy's education in any way they could. In the end, Victor wasn't able to speak, but he did learn to write. He was able to write lait and Oh, Dieu. Perhaps that is why my priest thought this story was so important—his successful spelling of the French word for God proved that despite his challenges, Victor the Wild Boy never lost his faith."
Kinch was annoyed. "This child never learned to speak? And this story was supposed to give me hope?"
LeBeau stared back. "You're not looking at the big picture, Kinch. He never learned how to speak but look at how far he came! Imagine a world where you couldn't communicate anything and now you can finally request milk? How happy would this make your nephew?"
Kinch now was annoyed with himself—LeBeau did have a point.
"And maybe Victor would have come even further if more people were willing to give him a chance. Victor made his greatest progress in interactions with people. Once he was in Dr. Itard's home, he didn't run away as much. He showed empathy in certain situations. He began to treat Dr. Itard and his housekeeper almost like surrogate parents."
Kinch looked sad. "They never found his real parents?"
LeBeau looked sadder. "Oui. They would ask farmers if he was their child and everyone would always say no. My priest theorized that he was either abandoned by his parents or he ran away."
It was hard for Kinch to comprehend either possible reason. Not only could he not understand a parent abandoning their own flesh and blood, he couldn't understand a boy running away from his own family.
LeBeau cursed and hurried towards the stove. He stirred his forgotten sauce. Even though LeBeau seemed anxious it may have burned, Kinch still thought it smelled delicious.
The story of Victor motivated Kinch to make this letter to Josephine a meaningful one. Even though Billy didn't share everything in common with Victor, it was similar. And Victor's education proved that Billy could be taught and Billy would do better, especially as he had life better: he was younger and had parents who adored him.
Kinch also wondered if fate brought him to this story. The tale had origins in Napoleonic France, and as fate would have it Kinch had a sister named Josephine, who shared her name with the love of Napoleon's life.
Kinch wondered how the deaf residents of Victor's residence communicated. All of a sudden, an idea came to him. He started writing in earnest.
"Get an idea?" LeBeau asked.
Kinch looked proud. "Yeah, I'm going to recommend to Josephine that she teach Billy sign language! I got the idea listening to your story. I'm not sure if it'll work, but it's worth a try. When I went for basic training, the desk officer had a deaf sister and he and her communicated that way. I am going to write to him and see if he can write to Josephine. And it wouldn't be possible without your story, LeBeau!"
LeBeau looked happy. "Anytime, Kinch. What are friends for?"
Author's Notes:
The historical event in Detroit that Kinch is worried about is the Detroit Race Riot of 1943. As Time Magazine points out "Members of both the black and white communities took part in the riots in Detroit in 1943 — looting, brawling, attacking innocent bystanders. But it's worth noting that of the 25 African Americans killed during the upheaval, "no white individuals were killed by police," according to the Detroit Historical Society, "whereas seventeen African American died at the hands of police violence."
Sources:
time dot com / 3880177 / detroit-race-riots-1943-photos-from-a-city-in-turmoil-during-wwii /
www dot blackpast dot org / aah / detroit-race-riot-1943
The story of Victor, nicknamed the Wild Boy of Aveyron, is quite real. His story has been documented by a few documentaries and was the subject of Francois Truffant's 1970 feature film "L' Enfant sauvage" (translated "Wild Boy" for UK audiences). Recent researchers have speculated that this could be one of the first recorded cases of autism due to Victor's many symptoms: nonverbal, aggressive, lack of interest/engagement with others, repetitive movements and elopement. Although LeBeau portrays a rather romanticized version of Dr. Itard, Itard's work with Victor is still considered trailblazing for the developmentally delayed.
Source: Wikipedia on Victor of Aveyron and YouTube for scenes from Truffant's film
Institution Nationale des Sourds-Muets: National Institute for the Deaf and Mute
Victor's words:
Lait: milk
Oh, Dieu: Oh, God
