Loonie Toons Lolcat

Love this picture. As seen on Icanhascheezburger.com.


moar funny pictures

Canyons of Steel - Johnny Come Lately

It's been a while, yes, since I've posted anything at all. I've been a bit busy, but felt as this is Veteran's Week (November 5th to November 11th) I would put up a post from a story I wrote about a grizzled old gunslinger I created. This story, I dedicate to all the men and women who have made sacrifices during times of war.

Canyons of Steel
Johnny Come Lately

I'm an American, boys, and I've come a long way
I was born and bred in the USA
So listen up close, I've get something to say
Boys, I'm buying this round
Well it took a little while but we're in this fight
And we ain't going home 'til we've done what's right
We're gonna drink Camden Town dry tonight
If I have to spend my last pound
When I first got to London it was pourin' down rain
Met a little girl in the field canteen
Painted her name on the nose of my plane
Six more missions I'm gone
Well I asked if I could stay and she said that I might
Then the warden came around yelling "turn out the lights"
Death rainin' out of the London night We made love 'til dawn

London, England, 1944

She pulled her coat closer around herself as she walked down the street as the cold wind picked up. Olivia Gallant muttered to herself as she moved through the cobble stone streets toward the medical station. Her journey would often take her past one of several stations that housed either American or Canadian troops, most fly boys, too cocky for their own good. More than once she had to cross the street to avoid some leers and wolf whistles. And this night was no exception.

"Hey, cold wind t'night, you tink." A Canadian airmen, obviously from Quebec with his thick Quebecois accent betraying him. It wasn't Parisian, of that she was certain. It sounded too, what was the term she'd heard her friend say once. Ah yes. Hillbilly. A strange American term if anything.

"I'm fine, really," she replied in her crisp English. "If you'll excuse me..."

"Ah, Miss. Just wanna give ya an escort." An American airman, and from the sounds, quite drunk. When they weren't flying missions, they spent most of their time drinking. There wasn't much else they could do, really.

"That's 'nough, boys," a gruff voice called out. It was the kindness in the voice that caused Olivia to stop. The man who approached her did not make her draw back, but for some reason, there was a feeling of complete safety with him. "Hit the sack. Some o' you got missions ta fly soon. An' Pierre, I figger Halladay's gonna have yer hide, what bein' 'way from the Canuck barracks." The Quebecois made a rather rude gesture once the man's back was turned, but walked away nonetheless. "Ma'am. Sorry 'bout the ruckus."

"It's quite alright, really. None of them actually do anything." She couldn't help but stare in amazement at this man. The smart airman's uniform, complimented with a stetson. "I was hurrying to attend my duties at the aid station."

"Well now, ma'am," he replied as he tipped the hat slightly. "Would ya mind an escort?"

She gave a nervous laugh and her hand clutched the scarf she wore to keep her neck warm. "Really, I'm alright. I don't even know your name."

"Major Caleb Walker, Ma'am," he said in his lazy drawl. "Eighth Air Force. Me an' the boys 're takin' a rest b'fore the big one. Hope none 're botherin' ya 'tall."

Olivia shook her head and smiled. She felt safe with Caleb for some strange reason. "I suppose an escort wouldn't be too troubling. The streets are rather empty and cold."

"Always nice ta have some comp'ny, ma'am," Caleb remarked as he offered her his arm. Olivia gently placed her hand at his elbow and the pair began walking together. "You from 'round here, ma'am? Ya don't mind my sayin', but I ain't heard anyone like ya in these parts b'fore." He meant no slight, it was his polite way of commenting on her accent.

"I moved here three years ago." She chuckled nervously for a moment as she corrected herself. "Well, I should say I was transfered here. I worked at an aid station in Swansea, Wales, where I grew up." She smiled and looked up to the tall man beside her.

"Beautiful country in Wales," Caleb replied. "I managed a stay with the rest o' my men when we first come here two years ago. Been flyin' missions ever since."

"And where are you from, Mr. Walker. I have to admit, most Americans I have meet are from Boston and New York."

Caleb chuckled a bit. "I grew up in what my daddy always called God's Country. Texas panhandle. Amarillo, ta be precise." The thought of a real Texas somewhat thrilled Olivia. She'd heard about men of the plains, but had never met one before, and at this moment, she was excited. Her lonely walk had turned into an adventure, albeit, a very calm one.

"I've never been away from the British Isles," she replied with a smile. "And I've only seen pictures of much of the Americas."

"You should come out that way some time," Caleb replied with a nod. "If ya came out in fall, then ya see some o' the most picturesque sunsets."

The pair walked together for a few more blocks, talking, sharing their experiences since the beginning of the war, and laughing together. Olivia looked up as she saw the sign denoting the aid station. Her heart sank just a bit as she didn't wish for the walk to end. They both stopped and Olivia turned to face Caleb. "I must thank you for your escort, and the conversation. It's a lonely walk sometimes, and having someone to talk to is wonderful."

"My pleasure, Ma'am," Caleb said as he tipped his hat. "Any time you need an escort, just come ta the barracks. I'll let the boys know, an' they won't do nothin' ta disrespect ya."

"I appreciate that, Mr. Walker."

"Please, Ma'am. Call me Caleb."

She smiled as she quietly voiced the name to herself. A very different name than she'd heard before. "On one condition, Caleb. If you would, call me Olivia."

Caleb smiled and his eyes seemed to sparkle. "I think I can do that, Olivia. You take care, now. Hope yer shift goes without any problems." He tipped his hat again and walked back toward his barracks, leaving Olivia to watch after him, smiling as she tried the name again for size.

"Olivia," a woman called from the doorstep. "Love, ye gonna catch ye cold out there." Alice McGuinty, considered to be the den mother of the nurses at this station. Alice gazed off in the direction Olivia was looking and smiled. "Ye get yeself a bit o' an escort t'night?"

"Yes," Olivia said with a shy smile. "It helped keep the cold away."

Alice laughed out loud and shook her head. She knew that many of the American flyboys would often sweep the local girls off their feet, and it seemed as though it had happened with a chance meeting tongiht. "Well, get yeself inside. Dunna need ye catchin' yer death from the cold." Olivia climbed the stairs to the aid station, the smile never leaving her face. Her duties would be completed with cheer, but the hours which she would see Caleb again would be long.

But when Johnny Come Lately comes marching home
With a chest full of medals and a G.l. loan
They'll be waitin' at the station down in San Antone
When Johnny comes marching home

Olivia stood outside of the barracks and watched the men come and go through the chain link fence. She actually had some time off and decided to use it tending to some chores and a bit of relaxation. Tensions weren't nearly as high as they had been in the past. There was a rumour that the end of the war was in sight. Four days before, the air field was a buzz of activity as planes took off on a massive mission. Nothing had been leaked but everyone had their own theory.

But Olivia knew. Caleb told her that they were about to move out, there were orders coming and he wouldn't be around for a few days. They'd spent the night together before he had to join his airmates. It was only four days. She had so much that she needed to take care of during that time to take her mind off Caleb, but she always drifted back to him. The warmth in his voice, the touch of his hand, the sparkle in his eye. She hadn't thought that she could be swept so easily off her feet, but she had. Caleb Walker had been the man she had been looking for, without even knowing that she was looking at all.

Olivia bit her lip in nervous anticipation, watching as pilots began filtering into the buildings. The mission was complete, and from all appearances, they were victorious. But she didn't care of the outcome of any battle. Olivia only looked for one man.

Alone, and haggard looking, one lone pilot walked the tarmac to the bunkhouses. Carrying his gear under his arm, he wiped his brow and seemed to take a deep breath, one that he could have been holding from the shores of Italy until he landed on English soil. Caleb Walker looked up as though something inside him told him to. He smiled as he saw Olivia, and began walking toward her.

Olivia laughed a nervous laugh that allowed her worry to shed quickly. She wanted to burst through the fence, not waiting for the airman that opened it to finish. She wanted to burst through and run to Caleb, but she composed herself as best she could. Still, her excitement pushed her to rush toward Caleb. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she sobbed into his chest, not tears of sorrow, but tears of absolute joy.

Caleb smiled, dropping his equipment to the ground as he placed comforting arms about her. "Olivia," he said softly. "Darlin', ain't no cause ta weep like this."

"I thought I'd never see you again," she sobbed as she held tight to him. "I didn't realize that the time we'd spent together..." She let her voice trail off as she looked up into his eyes.

"Darlin'," he said softly as he smiled his comforting smile. "I ain't goin' nowhere. God didn't want me, b'cause he knew there were an angel here on Earth I needed ta come back ta. Up in the skies, I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout ya. I knew I had ta come back ta ya, darlin'. An' there weren't nuthin' them Jerries could do ta keep me 'way."

They stood in silence for what seemed forever. In that moment, Olivia knew she had been truly blessed. With Caleb Walker by her side, there was no reason to fear and no reason to cry.

MY P-47 is a pretty good ship
And she took a round coming cross the Channel last trip
I was thinking 'bout my baby and letting her rip
Always got me through so far
Well they can ship me all over this great big world
But I'll never find nothing like my North End girl
I'm taking her home whh me one day, sir
Soon as we win this war

1955, San Antonio, Texas.

Olivia held the small child in her arms as her oldest son stood beside her. Neither boy could understand what the scene was about. Neither child knew why the tears ran down her cheeks. A soldier dressed in his military best presented her with the flag that drapped the coffin. And the tears flowed even faster. The soldier lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, and whispered words of encouragement to her, words that told her that her husband had died completing his duty. She had only pride to keep herself standing tall.

But even though the words held some strength for her, she still felt a great loss. This man she had met only a decade before was now taken from her.

She would strengthen herself, however, as she looked to the two boys. Caleb's boys. Christopher Malcom Walker and Johnathon Tiberius Walker. She would teach them about their father and let them know the kind of man he was.

And perhaps, they too would grow to be their father's sons.

Now my granddaddy sang me this song
Told me about London when the Blitz was on
How he married Grandma and brought her back home
A hero throughout his land
Now I'm standing on a runway in San Diego
A couple Purple Hearts and I move a little slow
There's nobody here, maybe nobody knows
About a place called Vietnam

Washington DC, National Vietnam Memorial, present day

John Walker stared at one row of names intently as he stood solitary before the wall. He'd served with most, made friends with a few. It was almost forty years ago, but he remembered. He'd lied about his age when he enlisted, at the age of sixteen. His first tour was on his seventeenth birthday. His mother never knew until he had returned, believing that he'd gone to look for work. She was angry, but the angry turned to relief that he was alright.

As the sun shone brightly down from above, John Walker said a silent prayer. Only the foot falls behind him made any noise that someone had arrived. Nothing was said, whoever it was kept quiet, respectfully allowing John to finish. And as he placed his hat back on, Marianne Wollcott finally spoke.

"I apologize for the interruption, Sir."

John turned to face her, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright, Mary. Ya ain't interruptin' none 'tall." He looked back to the wall and sighed before turning to face Marianne. "Been comin' out here on this date every year now since they built this. Only seem right."

"Vietnam?" Marianne asked quietly.

John nodded his response, the memories coming back to him of the hell on earth he'd survived. "One tour o' duty. Commandin' officer tol' me ta go home after he found out how old I was." He chuckled slightly as his commanding officer's words came back to him, crystal clear. "Truth is, I don't blame 'im. I'd o' done the same thing in his situation." He studied Marianne for a moment, for the first time since she'd joined him noticing her smart military uniform, a good pairing with the one John wore. "You served back in Britain, didn't ya?"

Marianne smiled with a small nod. "I never saw any action. Never was sent overseas. I was still a cadet when the Persian Gulf War began. They sent me to Haiti to assist with efforts there. But outside of that..." She merely shook her head. "I can't imagine the things you've experienced, Sir. I don't know what any of it was like."

"I pray ya never do, Mary," John replied softly. "Ta be shoved inta a war like that," he stated as he motioned toward the wall of names. "Ain't nobody should see that. Ever."

"With everything I've heard that happened to men that served in Vietnam," Marianne commented. "I find that you have a strength above that."

John took a deep breath as he carefully thought his answer. "I live with the horror o' that war, ta this very day. Like I said, no one should ever have ta go through that. Ever. On that same note, I'm glad there's men an' women that have the courage ta stand up. If we didn't, we might as well roll over an' die."

Marianne studied John Walker closely for a moment. He seemed at his most vulnerable at this very moment. The strength he usually displayed was only a glint compared to the pain and sorrow that he felt being here. But there was one thing she knew. Through the horrors of all the wars fought during the last century, if it wasn't for men like John Walker, then they may as well have just rolled over and died. "In Britain we don't honour our soldiers until November. But there is a saying, said throughout the Commonwealth. Perhaps it is also appropriate for this time as well."

John looked to Marianne for a moment before answering. "What would that be?"

"Lest we forget."

With three simple words, Marianne Wollcott gave John Walker a stiff salute. The tired and worn body of Walker's seemed to slouch just a bit. The words fit, and with them, gave him some strength to continue on. He returned the salute in kind, unable to find the words he wished to convey to Marianne. None needed be said.

lyrics from Johnny Come Lately as performed by Steve Earl