Before I forget…
Disclaimer: The characters Jim & Sarah Hawkins, Delbert Doppler and Captain Amelia are the sole property of the Walt Disney Animation Studios. The kittens and puppy are named by me as well as any other characters found herein.
From that time on, more letters came from Jim—sometimes four times a week and other times once a month. But the content was always full of good news: new places Jim had visited, people he met and assisted (even in on instance, he helped a heavily-pregnant Calmarian woman give birth to septuplets! The poor exhausted creature thanked Jim by naming one after him!), skirmishes and enemies that they had fought, territory taken, the quality of the food and much more.
Everyone was so touched by what their friend and son had to say. Jim was no longer the sullen, rebellious, guarded boy that Sarah, Amelia, Delbert and Silver remembered; au contraire, he was now a happy, cheerful, bright, caring and passionate young sailor with a heart of fire and a will that was both strong in times of opposition yet tender towards those who were needy, broken and in distress. And yet, in spite of all the good news, Sarah always remembered that Jim was at war and that someday, it may all end so soon.
… Late in December/ A day she'll not forget…
"IT'S SNOWING!!!" screamed Olivia at 7:15 on the morning of December 2. "What!?!? Where!??! Where is it???" replied her sisters and brother at full volume themselves. They joined her at the window and erupted in cheers and exaltation. "Yaaayyyy, it's snowing, it's snowing, it's snowing!!! Let's go out and play!!! I wanna build a snowman!!! I'm gonna start a snowball fight!!!" Andrea beat them all to the clothes closet and in a few seconds, the room was a whirlwind of heavy dresses, snow trousers, shoes, socks, coats and jackets. Finally, each of them were well decked out in their own manner of winter attire. Thus set, the eager 6 year-olds stampeded out the door and down the stairs. The noise woke up nearly a third of the sleeping residents of the Inn—including their father. Delbert slid out of bed and into his rabbit wool slippers and smoking jacket (Note: Delbert does not smoke; a smoking jacket is a type of robe, usually dark red in color and made of heavy cotton, I think.). But by the time he had exited the room and shut the door to allow his wife to sleep, his offspring had exited the front door.
Later that morning, some of the earlier-rising Inn guests were dining on hot chicken eggs, beef sausage, thick slices of honey-roasted ham, whole wheat and barley toast with fresh-churned butter with purp juice, apple cider, Java coffee, hot chocolate and steaming raspberry tea.
Sarah was supervising the food serving when Mrs. Grump called out her name from the front lobby. Sarah excused herself from the table she was waiting on and walked to the front. She found Mrs. Grump behind the desk where she often served as a purser/ clerk/ customer relations steward. Right before the desk was a tall, raggedly-dressed and shivering Crickitan, a grasshopper-like insectoid with small antennae and humanoid features. "Mrs. Hawkins, this man here say he's come a long way to speak with you." "Oh well, how do you do Sir?", Sarah said with a warm note in her musical voice. The Crickitan smiled gladly and shook her extended hand. "Pleasure's mine as well, ma'am." he answered in a Welsh accent. "Would you care for some breakfast? It's hot and ready as we speak." "Aye, this old skin o' mine wouldn't mind a piece 'o meat in me 'ole belly. That is, 'less I'd be robbin' an infunt's platter t'do so." "Oh, Heavens, No, no, no, there's more than plenty. Please, follow me." Sarah led the new customer straight to a single table near the dining room wall. He took a seat and thanked her profusely. "Oh, please, just tell me what you would like," and she handed him a breakfast menu before going to get a set of napkin-wrapped utensils and table condiments. "Oh, 'fore I loose me memory, the name's Jeff." "Oh, Welcome Jeff. I'm Sarah and I'll be your server and hostess for the day." "My highest thanks to ye for that, Miss.", answered the insectoid.
He ordered a full platter of everything and consumed it all with much relish when B.E.N. brought it by immediately.
"Miss Sarah, could I 'ave a moment of yer time, please?", asked Jeff during a lull in the bustle. She nodded and came over to his spot. He then put his right arm into his coat and withdrew two envelopes. He took a deep breathe and held them out in front of him. For a few moments, he was silent and pondering. "This…is mighty difficult for me t'say, 'specially after th'wonderful food 'n such. But, well, this 'as got ta be said, so, and I'm the one they elected ta say it, seeing I was there 'n such."
"Mr. Jeff, What is it?", Sarah asked with a slight tremor of alarm beating in her bosom. He just sighed and looked at her mournfully. Then he held out one of the envelopes to her. "I just can't say it in words, so I wrote them down. I hope ye don't mind. Go ahead, it's for yeh ta read." Sarah took it, removed the paper inside, unfolded it and began to read.
…Oh the tears stained the paper/ With every word that she read…
Dear Miss Hawkins,
My name is Jeffery Gallagher an I've been chosen to give ya this here message. What's happened in what I say is true. I do wish to God that it weren't but it is. So, here goes.
Me an my fellow soldier, for that's what I am see, we were on the planet Kerhan and right near the front battle lines. That be where some of the war against the Procryons to this day.
Anyways, we were, one night, ordered to make a sneak attack against a sort of small mountain, to take it from the Procryons you see. And we succeeded and took the whole big hillside for ourselves.
But the morning after, must have been their whole , entire artillery and cannons was turned on our positions. We was well entrenched in holes and trenches and wood bunkers, but there was hardly one inch of ground not being blown up or shot at. Many of us out in the open was hit and hurt or killed right there. It was so bad and weren't going to stop. So our commander tell us to fall back. But as we started to, we saw the enemies coming right for our hill. The artillery was protecting them by hitting us that we couldn't even shoot to stop 'em. We was just told to get out of there and off that terrible high ground. But the trouble was, some of us were hit too bad to go anywhere. Others couldn't move a finger for because there was so much artillery fire hitting nearby. We were trapped and was going to be slaughtered. So while those 'o us who could run did, we who couldn't was left here. There wasn't any hope for us.
…It said "I was up on a hill / I was out there alone / When the shots all rang out / And bombs were exploding…
But we was wrong. Hope did come, right out of the sky. One moment we were getting ready to meet our maker, and then the next moment something bigger than a shell came whizzing over our head. It was heading for the enemy soldiers coming right for us. Can't rightly recall everything that happened after that, except that most of those Procos, what our nickname is for the foes, got cut down by heavy fire from that thing zooming through the air. Next thing we know, the heavy guns seemed to stop firing on us.
I'll never forget what happen next. A young soldier, well, he was standing on a flat piece 'o wood 'n metal with a sort 'o engine on the back. Anyways, he landed his craft right smack in our midst and began to lift those 'o us wounded onto his contraption. Five at a time he took em and flew em back to the backside of the hill, right out 'o sight 'o us. Did this he did, for about six more trips like so. Then, fore he returned a seventh time, 'nother wave 'o Procos come running back 'n shooting at our positions. By now, we who was unhurt 'n could move lay ourselves low 'n ready ourselves for another round. We waited 'till they was close 'n then opened up. They was cut down 'n driven back.
…That's when I saw him / He came back for me…
'N just in time, the lad come flying back and gathered the rest 'o the wounded. I told him to get the men out quickly 'cept he instead came running over 't me. "Sir," he say, " I'm here to get you all to safety. I just saw, from the air, a larger enemy force regrouping in the woods. You all have to fall back or your all dead."
Fore I could answer, a ricochet split open me belly. Oh, and what pain 'n agony it was. And blood too. The lad straight forth clamped his hands onto me body 'n pressed down t' stanch the flow. 'N as he dressed the wound, he told me again that we had 't leave.
"Don't be foolish lad, yeh can't possibly—" but he showed me a patch on his shirt: it say "Interstellar Naval Special Force". Thrown fer a loop I was. A Special Forces grunt? Here, amongst us?
I thought 'bout it for a few moments. With me own blood a flowin' and in terrible shell shock, I could only nod aye. If the lad were a fellow of the utmost secret, highly-skilled and stealthy brigade we'd all heard tales of, well then, maybe all weren't lost.
The lad lift me to his craft with several wounded lads as well. He called the others over and give his plan. They all agree; the enemy would only re-attack with greater numbers 'n overrun us. So the young man then tell them to take his craft 'n fly it back out 'o range. He then arm himself with his weapons and say to me,
"Sir, if you get out of here alive, go to the planet Montressor; look for the Benbow Inn. Sarah Hawkins is the owner. Tell her what's happened to me and that I love her. Oh, and take these to her, please."
'N he hand me a pack 'o papers with writin' on 'em. I took em and say, "I swear on me beating heart lad, She'll know. I'll do it fer ye." The lad smile and stood. He tell one feller t'drive the vessel and the other's t'run fast as their ruddy legs could.
Well, I was taken for the ride 'o me poor life. I never forget going so fast 'n don't remember a 'ting what happened to after that. But I know waking up in the regiment hospital with twenty-eight 'o my fellow comrades. By God's Grace, we all got better 'n fit 'nough 't fight again.
Later, I thought about the boy who helped us get away. So I go 't our divisional commander 'n tell him the story 'n 'bout the boy. The commander tell the general and they two talk for a spell. Then, our commander come 'n call for me; tells me he found out 'bout the boy, who he was and what came of him.
Well, it were so that after we'd abandoned the hilltop, the enemy had tried to counterattack. The lad had set a few booby-traps that took a number 'o their lives. He then gunned down a whole mighty number 'o them 'til his guns was empty. He then fell 'pon em with some big blades 'o his. An officer with spyglass saw it 'n swear it's so.
But when a replacement regiment counterattack 'n retake the hill later, there weren't no sign of the lone lad.
The only clue of his fate was what some skirmisher grunts who say they saw them surviving Procyons drag away a wounded soldier in Naval uniform back 't their lines in the woods.
…And though he was captured / A man set me free…
Anyway, sad 'n evil it be for me 't say , I were told by the general himself 'bout the lad. And Aye, he were a Special Forces soldier, a naval scout stationed on the RLS Perseverance with the fleet 'bove the planet. What were more amazing was to learn he were the one who find Treasure Planet when he were only fifteen. Aye Miss, the lad's name be James Pleaides Hawkins.
…And that man was your Son…
Sarah dropped the letter and covered her mouth with both her hands. Meanwhile, Mr. Jeff Gallagher arose and pulled up a chair for her to sit on. She fell into the chair heavily and didn't move for a long while. The bug-soldier sat back down and waited for her reply. Amelia had been up and eating her breakfast when she witnessed Sarah's actions. She immediately got up and strode over to her friend's chair. "What is it, Sarah", she asked quizzically. "It's the news that I've brought, en writin' ", answered Mr. Gallagher for her and he handed the letter to the redhead captain.
After a few minutes of reading it, she too let go of the paper and the settled to the floor. By now, Sarah was completely lost in overpowering grief for her fears had come to past!! Oh, why had Jim needed to go and fight? Why couldn't he have served only for a short time of even a month?? Why??? He could have been home safe and protected. But now…Oh, her Jim was now wounded and a prisoner—Maybe Even DEAD!!! Sarah just couldn't bear the thought! With overpowering weeping, she arose quickly and hurried up the stairs.
Every patron and diner had witnessed her actions and turned their stares back to the table where the bug soldier sat and cat-captain stood. Jeff shook his head sorrowfully. "Wish with all me heart that it weren't so. But sigh…I was there…'n I couldn't never tell a lie." Amelia looked upon him with respect and understanding. "You've done nothing wrong, soldier…", and just couldn't find anything else to say, so she picked up the letters from the floor and turned to walk away. "Oh, um, Miss, these here," and Jeff held out the envelope with Jim's unsent letters he didn't mail before going into battle. Amelia took them with a "thank-you" smile and walked away.
That evening, her eyes all cried out, Sarah arose from her bed, donned her night robe and turned up the gas wall lamp slightly. She padded over to her writing desk and sat down. For a long while she just sat and let her thoughts run pell-mell through her troubled mind. Then she turned her head down and saw her son's last letters that Mr. Gallagher brought. She remembered what the soldier had last said to her about them.
…He asked me to write to you / I told Him I would / Oh, I swore" / It was the last of the letters from war…
…And she prayed he was living / Kept on believing…
Sarah then turned her head to the right side of the desk and noticed one letter to Jim that was still unfinished. She slowly slid it over and reread what she'd written. Then, taking up the quill pen, she began to finish it, to reveal her thoughts, her emotions and her concern to her son—if it could ever reach him.
…And wrote every night just to say / "You are Good / and You're Brave / What a Father that you'll be someday…
Sarah jotted the last word lovingly, set the pen back and closed her eyes. "Oh Lord God," she prayed quietly, "If you know where Jim is, please, please…bring him back safely. Don't let him die. Please. I love him so much… I just want to hold him…one…more….time…." And with a long yawn, she arose, turned off the lamp and slid under her covers…as a Heavenly peace filled her heart and soul with confidence.
…Make it home / Make it safe" / Still she kept writing each day…
Author's Note: Saddest piece of work I've ever written….
