Writer notes: Okay, this chapter has to be my most intense one yet. I literally re-written all of it and added four new scenes. It sort of deals with what we're going through right now...war. This part has been in my mind for a few months now, so it wasn't spawned from the war right now but falls oddly around it. It gives a parallel account of the Second Great War in the TaleSpin universe. I warn you this chap is HEAVY reading!
* * *
November 1948
Baloo woke to an empty building. It was Sunday, and everybody had gotten up early to go to the first service at church. They decided that Baloo would most likely fall asleep during the service, so why not just leave him in bed?
Baloo peered around the bedroom he use to share with Kit, which now housed a full size bed Kit shared with his wife. He shook his head, and was about to turn when a flash of white caught his eye. On the small wooden desk by the far left wall lay a notebook.
Out of curiosity, Baloo picked it up and opened it. Kit's handwriting laden the lines of the paper. Kit wasn't one for writing much ((even though the writing gift of his mother was deep inside)), it made it interesting to see what he had written. It took a moment for Baloo to realize it was a journal. He began to put it down - not wanting to intrude on his son's privacy, but two words made him stay. It read:
January 19, 1943
My counselor says I should keep a journal. He said it will help me work through my problems. I told him I can't get control over my depression. I know it's only been two months, but I should be stronger than this! I don't think this journal will help, but Guinna and Molly are urging me to try it. Here I am, writing about my problems. I'll start from the beginning where I think it began. Here goes nothing.
_Bloodshed and Warfare_
The life I've led so far has been hard to say the least. Although the good memories are there, the bad times overpower them and I can't escape.
I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save them. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn't. They fell. I tried. I really did, but…
We worked through their death together: Guinna, Molly, and I. We got through and came out strong. It was almost two months after their fall that Guinna and I decided to get married. I had proposed to her on her birthday in May '41, the same month we graduated from high school.
After we were married, her and Molly moved into H&H leaving behind the apartment in town. Everything was all right. I had taken the job of shipping the cargo and Guinna to take the orders. We were doing well until I got the letter…it told me I had been drafted for the coming war.
My heart felt as though it stopped. We had heard about the coming war after the Canberrians had bombed the small tropical island of San Kanaka in the Tangelo Ocean. Usland had been trying to make that island our territory, but Torra ((yes, the same Torra that wanted the jet blueprints)) had been trying to gain control of it for Canberra. Usland was planning to drive Torra out of Canberra, but Usland had to pick up speed in planning when the Canberrian army invaded Forsynthia. That's when Usland had to go in and help. Amicalola, Ellijay, and Anglo were joining to help in the liberation of Forsynthia. Usland also believed that Torra was hiding a secret weapon that could destroy a whole country - the atomic bomb. We needed to get in Canberra to find that bomb before it was used, and capture Torra.
Just four months after Guinna and I were married, I was shipped off to bootcamp in Barlow. I spent six weeks there in intense training. They even taught us how to kill a man with a single bare hand. You could of considered any of us soldiers living weapons when we left the camp. I wondered why they had taught us all that especially me because I was only suppose to be a pilot for the ball turret gunner planes. I even spent my nineteenth birthday there in camp.
I had heard horror stories about the turret gunner planes. The army needed thousands of soldiers to fire the turret gunner, because rumor had it every time one of those planes went up, a soldier was killed. The reason why was the gunner was located on the belly of the plane. It became the most vulnerable spot on the plane which made it an easy target. The enemy could just shoot the gunner out and the plane would be defenseless - easy to take down.
My old friend, Ernie, had been drafted into the same unit as me. He was assigned to be a turret gunner. He threw up for days after he heard the news. I was the pilot of the plane he would go up in. I knew I had to do the best I could to keep Ernie alive. We did good on the first three runs, but Ernie wasn't lucky on our fourth run.
A Canberrian plane flew up from behind us. Ernie didn't see him in time; I didn't either. The other gunner shot at us, and took out Ernie as fast as a snap. My co-pilot took the controls so I could ran back there to the turret. Ernie's body was bloody and wholly, but he was alive. I pulled him out of the turret. Ernie looked up at me with red eyes and he spoke low. He wanted me to recite the famous war poem we had heard at bootcamp:
'From my mother's sleep I fell into the state And I hunched in it's belly till my wet fur froze Six miles from earth lost in my dream of life I awoke to black flak and the nightmare fighters When I died, they washed me out of the turret with a hose'
He tried to hang on as long as he could, but Ernie died in my arms. Right there in the sky. I was crushed for the third time in less than a year…it was like a third blow to the head. But what really set me off was when they did wash Ernie out of the turret with a hose. I never saw a sight so sickening in my life. I relived that moment almost every time I landed my plane. I never wanted to see blood again, or a hose.
Months passed with the same dangerous routine. The Canberrian army did not plan to go anywhere anytime soon. We hadn't found the atomic bomb or Torra yet. My plane hadn't gotten far one day in mid-September when we were shot down over Forsynthia. My co-pilot, Rick Taven, and I crash landed the plane into an area of woods. Rick had been knocked unconscious, but I was awake and crawled to check on our turret gunner man. He was dead…as I suspected. Rick and I had several injuries, but we were alive. Rick had a dislocated shoulder and gashes on his legs from the glass of the windshield breaking. I had a broken left wrist and a bad gash on my forehead that was bleeding into my eyes.
That wasn't the worst part. Three Canberrian soldiers found us in less than five minutes after our crash. They pulled us from the wreckage - not gently either, pointing their guns on our faces and yelling harshly in their language. I knew this had to be it. We had survived the plane crash, but we wouldn't survive the enemy's guns. The only thought that went through my mind was, "I'm not going to see my family again. Guinna will be a widow before she's even twenty. I don't want to leave them like this." But luck had endured for us, at least a little longer.
The Canberrian soldiers bound our hands behind our back. It was painful for Rick and me since that's where are main injuries were. Tears were streaming down our faces for hours. The blood from my gash had finally stopped, but dry blood was burning my eyes. The soldiers lead us to a small camp in the woods where there were a few more of them. We stayed in their custody for a week or so, but it felt like a lifetime. They blindfolded us then beat us everyday at any random time. One soldier would cock his gun right by our ears, take off our blindfolds, and hold the gun to our heads as if he was about to shoot us but would resolve in laughter and walk away. We figured we were going to die of our injuries or the soldiers would kill us.
I never had planned an escape. I could barely think let alone plan an escape. But, late one night I found my bonds loosened. Whether it was an accident or just pure luck, I took full advantage of it. Our guard stood in front of us facing the same direction we were. Everything they had taught us in bootcamp especially defending yourself with a single bare hand all made sense in that one snap of the enemy's neck. That was the first time I had ever killed a person. Out of everything I been through, that was the first time. I had to move fast and try not to dwell over it. Escape was the main thing in my mind, so I took the guard's guns and untied Rick, handing him one. One of the soldiers had awoken and was about to shoot us when Rick and I shot him first. That started a bloody dominos effect. But in the end, we had won.
Rick and I left that place, getting as far as we could before collapsing in exhaustion. I have no recollection of what happen after that. I woke up in a hospital bed. The first sight I saw made me think I had died and was in heaven. Guinna was sitting at my bedside. She filled me in on what happened. Anglo soldiers found us, and we were shipped to friendly territory (I can't even remember where). Guinna had been called, and she rushed to the hospital to be by my side. I was there for two weeks recovering then I finally got to go home around mid-October. I received my discharge papers not long after that. That's when the nightmares started.
I can't go on. It's too hard, too soon. I tried to kill my wife…
The writing stopped with those cryptic words. He tried to kill his wife? Baloo was cemented to the floor, not knowing what to think of that. There had to be an explanation. It might be too hard for Kit or Guinna to tell, but he had to know what happen.
***
The rest of the crew got back from church a couple hours later, taking the time to eat an early lunch while out. Molly had just came from her room changing from her good clothes to her blue capri pants and white blouse.
"Hey Molly, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure, Baloo" she replied, noticing the distraught look on his face. She wondered what in the world he was up to when he lead her into the SeaDuck, shutting the door. "What's going on?"
Baloo wrung his hat, nervously. "I need to ask you something. You don't have to answer if you don't wanna talk about it or don't know anything. But I need to know what happened after Kit got home from the war."
Molly's eyes grew wide, and she bit her lip. "What do you mean?"
"This." Baloo handed her the notebook, pointing out the last sentence on the page. Molly read over it, taking several moments before speaking.
"Kit was having nightmares about being back in the enemies' camp. Almost every night he would relive being there in his dreams. I'd hear him even from downstairs screaming. I'd run upstairs to find Guinna comforting him. It went on for a few weeks until one night the scream didn't come from Kit."
~~~flashback~~~
The nightmares would not stop. Kit tossed and turned, screaming out from the taunting in his mind of the beatings and threats from the Canberrian soldiers. Kit threw himself awake but in a daze. He raised his hands to find them free of the bonds they had wrapped around him. He peered around in the dark then slipped out of the covers, not even realizing he was in bed. He caught sense that the enemy was close by.
He crepe carefully toward the dim light streaming from across the room. The light flashed off, and soft footsteps were heard. The enemy was approaching. Kit molded himself to the wall next to the doorway awaiting to strike. In a matter of seconds, he had slammed the enemy against the wall - a scream erupting before hitting. Kit wrapped his right hand around the figure's neck and proceeded to squeeze, his eyesight hazy - only seeing the face of the enemy. He wanted revenge for every hit, for every threat, for the war…
"Kit?" a gasp came from the doorway behind him. "What are you doing?" Molly's small, horrified voice exclaimed.
Everything froze. Kit loosened his grip then ultimately dropped it at the sight of his flushed wife's face before him. He stepped back several paces as Guinna slid to the floor gasping for breathe. Molly ran to her side. Kit watched in utter horror and confusion then looked down at his raised hands. How could he do this? He raced from the building to the SeaDuck, and flying off into the night.
***
The engines of the SeaDuck came to a halt. The sun had already rose welcoming the morning. Kit drug his feet, dreading the fact that he needed to go back to H&H. What had come over him that night? Did he have temporary insanity? He didn't even stay to see if Guinna was all right. He didn't have to open the door to H it opened for him. He looked startled into his wife's eyes.
"Hi" Guinna murmured.
"Hi" Kit replied, not knowing what else to say.
"I was worried about" Guinna started. "I didn't know where you were."
"I was…" He stopped, noticing the light bruising on her neck. A sob escaping from his chest. Kit fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around Guinna's waist - crying into her skirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" he repeated over and over. Guinna knelt down, embracing him and smoothing his thick hair.
Minutes maybe hours had passed, they sat there locked together. Guinna was thankful Molly was at school. She stayed there with Kit for as long as he wanted. Kit finally pulled away.
"Are you-?"
Guinna didn't have to ask. She knew he meant her neck. "Me and Molly went to the clinic a few blocks away. They didn't ask questions, just said it was minor bruising nothing is damaged. I'll be all right. I'll heal." Kit nodded, looking down. "Kit, I need to ask you to do something important for me."
"What is it?"
"Start seeing a counselor. You been through one of the most traumatic experiences. You need help in working through it so you can come back to me and Molly." She placed her hand under his chin, making him look her in the eye. "You're all we have. Will you do this for us? For yourself?"
"Yes" Kit answered after several moments. "Can I ask for something?" Guinna nodded. "Can I sleep in Molly's room for a while? I don't want anything to happen again."
"Sure, you can. I'll move some of her stuff in our room today before she gets home. We'll get through this together, Kicker." She gave him a long, warm hug for good measure. "I love you, Kit."
"Thank you…I love you, Gigi."
~~~end flashback~~~
"It took a while, but Kit got through all the trauma he went through. Not to say that he's the same person he was before all that happened…because he isn't all the way. Some days he can be loving and playful like he use to be, but on bad days, he's real quiet and tries to stay away from us. The bad days don't happen as often as they use to, which I'm very glad for that. Though he can be pretty strict. Kit's problems are the main reason I want to be a counselor."
Baloo was speechless, for once, his mind running over the book size information she had given him. He had never imagined that -that- would of ever happen to his son. "You kids…I had no idea."
"Can you keep it that way?" Baloo cocked an eyebrow. "Don't say a word about what I told you" Molly continued. "Kit hates to talk about it, or even be reminded of it."
Baloo put a hand over his heart. "Your secret is safe with me."
"Thanks, Baloo." She reached over to hug him. "I'm sorry you had to find out about this."
* * *
November 1948
Baloo woke to an empty building. It was Sunday, and everybody had gotten up early to go to the first service at church. They decided that Baloo would most likely fall asleep during the service, so why not just leave him in bed?
Baloo peered around the bedroom he use to share with Kit, which now housed a full size bed Kit shared with his wife. He shook his head, and was about to turn when a flash of white caught his eye. On the small wooden desk by the far left wall lay a notebook.
Out of curiosity, Baloo picked it up and opened it. Kit's handwriting laden the lines of the paper. Kit wasn't one for writing much ((even though the writing gift of his mother was deep inside)), it made it interesting to see what he had written. It took a moment for Baloo to realize it was a journal. He began to put it down - not wanting to intrude on his son's privacy, but two words made him stay. It read:
January 19, 1943
My counselor says I should keep a journal. He said it will help me work through my problems. I told him I can't get control over my depression. I know it's only been two months, but I should be stronger than this! I don't think this journal will help, but Guinna and Molly are urging me to try it. Here I am, writing about my problems. I'll start from the beginning where I think it began. Here goes nothing.
_Bloodshed and Warfare_
The life I've led so far has been hard to say the least. Although the good memories are there, the bad times overpower them and I can't escape.
I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save them. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn't. They fell. I tried. I really did, but…
We worked through their death together: Guinna, Molly, and I. We got through and came out strong. It was almost two months after their fall that Guinna and I decided to get married. I had proposed to her on her birthday in May '41, the same month we graduated from high school.
After we were married, her and Molly moved into H&H leaving behind the apartment in town. Everything was all right. I had taken the job of shipping the cargo and Guinna to take the orders. We were doing well until I got the letter…it told me I had been drafted for the coming war.
My heart felt as though it stopped. We had heard about the coming war after the Canberrians had bombed the small tropical island of San Kanaka in the Tangelo Ocean. Usland had been trying to make that island our territory, but Torra ((yes, the same Torra that wanted the jet blueprints)) had been trying to gain control of it for Canberra. Usland was planning to drive Torra out of Canberra, but Usland had to pick up speed in planning when the Canberrian army invaded Forsynthia. That's when Usland had to go in and help. Amicalola, Ellijay, and Anglo were joining to help in the liberation of Forsynthia. Usland also believed that Torra was hiding a secret weapon that could destroy a whole country - the atomic bomb. We needed to get in Canberra to find that bomb before it was used, and capture Torra.
Just four months after Guinna and I were married, I was shipped off to bootcamp in Barlow. I spent six weeks there in intense training. They even taught us how to kill a man with a single bare hand. You could of considered any of us soldiers living weapons when we left the camp. I wondered why they had taught us all that especially me because I was only suppose to be a pilot for the ball turret gunner planes. I even spent my nineteenth birthday there in camp.
I had heard horror stories about the turret gunner planes. The army needed thousands of soldiers to fire the turret gunner, because rumor had it every time one of those planes went up, a soldier was killed. The reason why was the gunner was located on the belly of the plane. It became the most vulnerable spot on the plane which made it an easy target. The enemy could just shoot the gunner out and the plane would be defenseless - easy to take down.
My old friend, Ernie, had been drafted into the same unit as me. He was assigned to be a turret gunner. He threw up for days after he heard the news. I was the pilot of the plane he would go up in. I knew I had to do the best I could to keep Ernie alive. We did good on the first three runs, but Ernie wasn't lucky on our fourth run.
A Canberrian plane flew up from behind us. Ernie didn't see him in time; I didn't either. The other gunner shot at us, and took out Ernie as fast as a snap. My co-pilot took the controls so I could ran back there to the turret. Ernie's body was bloody and wholly, but he was alive. I pulled him out of the turret. Ernie looked up at me with red eyes and he spoke low. He wanted me to recite the famous war poem we had heard at bootcamp:
'From my mother's sleep I fell into the state And I hunched in it's belly till my wet fur froze Six miles from earth lost in my dream of life I awoke to black flak and the nightmare fighters When I died, they washed me out of the turret with a hose'
He tried to hang on as long as he could, but Ernie died in my arms. Right there in the sky. I was crushed for the third time in less than a year…it was like a third blow to the head. But what really set me off was when they did wash Ernie out of the turret with a hose. I never saw a sight so sickening in my life. I relived that moment almost every time I landed my plane. I never wanted to see blood again, or a hose.
Months passed with the same dangerous routine. The Canberrian army did not plan to go anywhere anytime soon. We hadn't found the atomic bomb or Torra yet. My plane hadn't gotten far one day in mid-September when we were shot down over Forsynthia. My co-pilot, Rick Taven, and I crash landed the plane into an area of woods. Rick had been knocked unconscious, but I was awake and crawled to check on our turret gunner man. He was dead…as I suspected. Rick and I had several injuries, but we were alive. Rick had a dislocated shoulder and gashes on his legs from the glass of the windshield breaking. I had a broken left wrist and a bad gash on my forehead that was bleeding into my eyes.
That wasn't the worst part. Three Canberrian soldiers found us in less than five minutes after our crash. They pulled us from the wreckage - not gently either, pointing their guns on our faces and yelling harshly in their language. I knew this had to be it. We had survived the plane crash, but we wouldn't survive the enemy's guns. The only thought that went through my mind was, "I'm not going to see my family again. Guinna will be a widow before she's even twenty. I don't want to leave them like this." But luck had endured for us, at least a little longer.
The Canberrian soldiers bound our hands behind our back. It was painful for Rick and me since that's where are main injuries were. Tears were streaming down our faces for hours. The blood from my gash had finally stopped, but dry blood was burning my eyes. The soldiers lead us to a small camp in the woods where there were a few more of them. We stayed in their custody for a week or so, but it felt like a lifetime. They blindfolded us then beat us everyday at any random time. One soldier would cock his gun right by our ears, take off our blindfolds, and hold the gun to our heads as if he was about to shoot us but would resolve in laughter and walk away. We figured we were going to die of our injuries or the soldiers would kill us.
I never had planned an escape. I could barely think let alone plan an escape. But, late one night I found my bonds loosened. Whether it was an accident or just pure luck, I took full advantage of it. Our guard stood in front of us facing the same direction we were. Everything they had taught us in bootcamp especially defending yourself with a single bare hand all made sense in that one snap of the enemy's neck. That was the first time I had ever killed a person. Out of everything I been through, that was the first time. I had to move fast and try not to dwell over it. Escape was the main thing in my mind, so I took the guard's guns and untied Rick, handing him one. One of the soldiers had awoken and was about to shoot us when Rick and I shot him first. That started a bloody dominos effect. But in the end, we had won.
Rick and I left that place, getting as far as we could before collapsing in exhaustion. I have no recollection of what happen after that. I woke up in a hospital bed. The first sight I saw made me think I had died and was in heaven. Guinna was sitting at my bedside. She filled me in on what happened. Anglo soldiers found us, and we were shipped to friendly territory (I can't even remember where). Guinna had been called, and she rushed to the hospital to be by my side. I was there for two weeks recovering then I finally got to go home around mid-October. I received my discharge papers not long after that. That's when the nightmares started.
I can't go on. It's too hard, too soon. I tried to kill my wife…
The writing stopped with those cryptic words. He tried to kill his wife? Baloo was cemented to the floor, not knowing what to think of that. There had to be an explanation. It might be too hard for Kit or Guinna to tell, but he had to know what happen.
***
The rest of the crew got back from church a couple hours later, taking the time to eat an early lunch while out. Molly had just came from her room changing from her good clothes to her blue capri pants and white blouse.
"Hey Molly, can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure, Baloo" she replied, noticing the distraught look on his face. She wondered what in the world he was up to when he lead her into the SeaDuck, shutting the door. "What's going on?"
Baloo wrung his hat, nervously. "I need to ask you something. You don't have to answer if you don't wanna talk about it or don't know anything. But I need to know what happened after Kit got home from the war."
Molly's eyes grew wide, and she bit her lip. "What do you mean?"
"This." Baloo handed her the notebook, pointing out the last sentence on the page. Molly read over it, taking several moments before speaking.
"Kit was having nightmares about being back in the enemies' camp. Almost every night he would relive being there in his dreams. I'd hear him even from downstairs screaming. I'd run upstairs to find Guinna comforting him. It went on for a few weeks until one night the scream didn't come from Kit."
~~~flashback~~~
The nightmares would not stop. Kit tossed and turned, screaming out from the taunting in his mind of the beatings and threats from the Canberrian soldiers. Kit threw himself awake but in a daze. He raised his hands to find them free of the bonds they had wrapped around him. He peered around in the dark then slipped out of the covers, not even realizing he was in bed. He caught sense that the enemy was close by.
He crepe carefully toward the dim light streaming from across the room. The light flashed off, and soft footsteps were heard. The enemy was approaching. Kit molded himself to the wall next to the doorway awaiting to strike. In a matter of seconds, he had slammed the enemy against the wall - a scream erupting before hitting. Kit wrapped his right hand around the figure's neck and proceeded to squeeze, his eyesight hazy - only seeing the face of the enemy. He wanted revenge for every hit, for every threat, for the war…
"Kit?" a gasp came from the doorway behind him. "What are you doing?" Molly's small, horrified voice exclaimed.
Everything froze. Kit loosened his grip then ultimately dropped it at the sight of his flushed wife's face before him. He stepped back several paces as Guinna slid to the floor gasping for breathe. Molly ran to her side. Kit watched in utter horror and confusion then looked down at his raised hands. How could he do this? He raced from the building to the SeaDuck, and flying off into the night.
***
The engines of the SeaDuck came to a halt. The sun had already rose welcoming the morning. Kit drug his feet, dreading the fact that he needed to go back to H&H. What had come over him that night? Did he have temporary insanity? He didn't even stay to see if Guinna was all right. He didn't have to open the door to H it opened for him. He looked startled into his wife's eyes.
"Hi" Guinna murmured.
"Hi" Kit replied, not knowing what else to say.
"I was worried about" Guinna started. "I didn't know where you were."
"I was…" He stopped, noticing the light bruising on her neck. A sob escaping from his chest. Kit fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around Guinna's waist - crying into her skirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" he repeated over and over. Guinna knelt down, embracing him and smoothing his thick hair.
Minutes maybe hours had passed, they sat there locked together. Guinna was thankful Molly was at school. She stayed there with Kit for as long as he wanted. Kit finally pulled away.
"Are you-?"
Guinna didn't have to ask. She knew he meant her neck. "Me and Molly went to the clinic a few blocks away. They didn't ask questions, just said it was minor bruising nothing is damaged. I'll be all right. I'll heal." Kit nodded, looking down. "Kit, I need to ask you to do something important for me."
"What is it?"
"Start seeing a counselor. You been through one of the most traumatic experiences. You need help in working through it so you can come back to me and Molly." She placed her hand under his chin, making him look her in the eye. "You're all we have. Will you do this for us? For yourself?"
"Yes" Kit answered after several moments. "Can I ask for something?" Guinna nodded. "Can I sleep in Molly's room for a while? I don't want anything to happen again."
"Sure, you can. I'll move some of her stuff in our room today before she gets home. We'll get through this together, Kicker." She gave him a long, warm hug for good measure. "I love you, Kit."
"Thank you…I love you, Gigi."
~~~end flashback~~~
"It took a while, but Kit got through all the trauma he went through. Not to say that he's the same person he was before all that happened…because he isn't all the way. Some days he can be loving and playful like he use to be, but on bad days, he's real quiet and tries to stay away from us. The bad days don't happen as often as they use to, which I'm very glad for that. Though he can be pretty strict. Kit's problems are the main reason I want to be a counselor."
Baloo was speechless, for once, his mind running over the book size information she had given him. He had never imagined that -that- would of ever happen to his son. "You kids…I had no idea."
"Can you keep it that way?" Baloo cocked an eyebrow. "Don't say a word about what I told you" Molly continued. "Kit hates to talk about it, or even be reminded of it."
Baloo put a hand over his heart. "Your secret is safe with me."
"Thanks, Baloo." She reached over to hug him. "I'm sorry you had to find out about this."
