Emil hadn't yet fallen asleep when I asked him, "What was it like leaving home when you were shipped overseas?"
Sometimes you get a question in your head that just won't go away. Didn't know whether I wanted to ask but there it was, out in the open, no turning back.
"The shippin' part wasn't bad. Coupla thousand GIs crammed in a sardine can and headin' topside when they felt the need to puke their guts out. The hard part was inside me. Hurt from my heart to my boot heels. And that pain didn't go away 'til I saw Lena again at the VA hospital down in Minneapolis. Home carries a lot of weight but compared to love it's not much more than dust on a window sill. War's a helluva position to be put in. Once you're in it there's no getting away 'til it's over. Or you're dead or close to it. At least that's the way it was in my war. And all the while you're remembering what home was like and how you'd give anything to be back there for a few hours."
Emil didn't blurt those words out. Had to pause every few seconds to catch his breath. Got the feeling he still carried the weight of those years and would 'til he died. Didn't think I'd as yet felt anything as deeply as the pain he'd felt in the war. All these years later and he sounded like he was still laying there in some God-forsaken, swamped foxhole on an island he'd never known existed 'til he was shipped there to face possible death.
We talked no more that night. I suspect my uncle laid there, eyes open, staring at the nylon above while I slept away like the ignoramus I was.
"Rise and shine Archie me lad, there's a few holes and a jack pine waitin' on our company. Don't want to disappoint them."
Hardly any need to say it was barely light enough to see my pee hit the ground. Had to go by sound and feel. And lordy, lordy did I hurt. Seemed moving boulders was tough on a body. But what did I expect? Every time I'd hit the woods with my uncle there were always a few days when I felt crippled. Experience told me it was temporary but fear told me the old man would kill me with work some day.
Since we weren't on a canoe trip, breakfast was a little more exotic but still quick to make. This morning's was French toast, sausages and coffee with oatmeal raisin cookies and an apple for desert. Oh yeah, and all the water I could pump. Since yesterday's boulder party I hadn't been able to quench my thirst. Could drink 'til I looked pregnant but still was thirsty.
Before beating the eggs for french toast Emil hoisted a corner of his homemade table, shot a look to the sky and gave it a quarter turn. Seeming not yet satisfied he moved it back a tad. Followed that with two taps to its top and looked quite happy.
Just had to ask, "What's with the table movement?"
"Orienting it properly. Can't really cook right unless the table's aligned just so."
"East-west, north-south or what?"
"Right side up. I've found it's much easier using a table that way than on its side or even upside down."
Now that may not strike most people funny but I blew snot.
We set off down the driveway with weapons of destruction in the wheelbarrow. Mixed gas, bar oil, chain sharpener, guide, wrench, screw driver, chain saw and once again, Emil's chain sling shot. I pushed the barrow, Emil carried the shovels. Men on a mission.
"Archie me lad, we're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of logs. Yes sir, there's something about dropping a tree that excites my blood. Manly stuff right out of the movies. Paul Bunyan and all that. Like to say I'm an expert with a chain saw but I'm not. Laying a pine down exactly where you want is an art. Can't say I'm much more than a ball-parker at best."
Our victim wasn't huge. Huge isn't in the nature of a jack pine. Maybe fifteen inches on the stump and over sixty feet tall. Majestic trees aren't common in the Minnesota woods. Down on the floor there's not a lot of light. The pines, aspens and birches fight and stretch for every ray of it. All that exercise makes them half-starved beanpoles with tight growth rings. This isn't the pacific northwest where the big ones are common, sometimes have names and are centuries old. What Emil was brushing around was no more than fifty. Heck, even my uncle was older than that.
"My intention is to drop this guy straight down the driveway. Keep in mind I said 'my intention'. Mostly I want it out of here one way or the other. And I don't want either of us under it when she goes."
Once he'd cleared the brush around the tree's base and had a clear escape route, Emil notched a 'V' with the saw about a foot above the ground, halfway through the trunk and open to the direction of fall. He walked around to the opposite side, took a look up the length of the trunk and said softly, "Here goes nothin'." The McCulloch roared to life and began to eat its way toward the notch, all the while Emil was rocking the saw blade and eyeing his line closely.
No yell of 'Timber!' from Emil as the pine slowly began to tilt, just a quiet 'uf dah'. I'd like to say his aim was perfect. And it nearly was. Couldn't have been off by more than a foot. At thirty degrees of lean the pine decided to call it a day and take a break in a spreading branch of a neighboring red pine.
"Sons-a-buck!" Yup, that's what Emil said alright. Then clapped his hands and started laughing like he was excited and pleased as punch. "Hot damn! Time to pull out the sling and come-along. Oh yeah, I knew that baby'd come in handy."
First off he shagged me back to camp for some sixteen penny nails and a hammer. By the time I'd returned - took a few minutes as I wasn't quite sure where the nails were - Emil'd given the jack pine a wrap with the sling and was fixing his come-along to another pine some thirty feet away. Once the chain was rigged near taut he pinned a few of the wrapped links to the trunk with the big nails. Hammered them half way in and bent them over.
"Don't want any slippage and sure don't want a log chain bull whip. Been a coward all my life and hope to die one in about thirty years."
Lastly began the click-click-click of the come-along. Slowly the chain pulled tight as piano wire and began dragging the tree butt, inch by inch. A couple of feet of cranking and the red pine released its grip. Emil seemed quite pleased with the thud.
Didn't take but half an hour 'til the trunk was limbed and reduced to firewood lengths. While Emil removed what he could of the stump I humped the wood and kindling back to camp via wheelbarrow.
"Dulled the bejeezus out of this chain but got the stump below ground level. Not much more we can do with it but let Mother Nature run her course. Jack pine's a survivor Archie. Enough pitch in the grain to keep it solid 'til I'm an old, old man. Maybe even older than old, old."
The rest of the work day was spent in the glory of moving dirt, filling holes and low spots. There's something relaxing about having a simple task and doing it well, even if that task is heavy work. By supper time the truck was eased into camp.
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