This is a work of fiction. Names of characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Dennis Milholland – All rights reserved. Other than for private, not-for-profit use, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, other than that intended by the author, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Careful! This is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sex between males and critiques of religion and governments. And last but not least, Nifty would like your donations.

Farewell, Uncle Ho

by Dennis Milholland

questions and comments are welcome. www.milholland.eu / dennis@milholland.eu

Chapter 40 (Mon., Jan. 16)

"No, we're not Jewish, Major Horowitz." Gerry shook his head, his eyes focused sadly on the Major. "There were not only Jews in the concentration camps." The Major nodded knowingly.

Gerry's mother had been from Berlin-Friedrichshain, which was one of the central districts of the German capital, now in the Soviet Sector of the divided city. She'd been a normal teenage girl from a normal, middle-class family, with two younger brothers, when she'd gotten caught in possession of anti-war material. At her trial, the death sentence had not been handed down, as would have been normal, and for which the Public Prosecutor had petitioned. Instead, she'd been condemned to hard labor at Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, just north of Berlin, as a political prisoner.

Major Horowitz was taking his detailed notes, occasionally blinking back tears. Apparently, suffering was not an alien concept to him either. And all of us had heard the name, Sachsenhausen.

"Anyway," Gerry continued with a very shaky voice. "while the Red Army was quickly approaching Berlin from the East, the SS evacuated her to the women's camp at Bergen-Belsen in January of '45. The British freed the camp then in April and used part of it as the DP-Camp. That's where I was born in February of '46. My mother died of anemia that April.

"My real father died of typhus before I was born. I don't know anything about him, except what's on my birth certificate, because Emma and Georg Helmstedter, who sponsored me are my mother's cousins--

"they are both your mother's cousins?" The Major was obviously trying to keep his notes straight.

"Yes, Georg and Emma are brother and sister." He laughed softly, a little embarrassed at this unusual family situation. "They're not married.

"And how long have they been here?"

"Since the '20s." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Anyway, I have German nationality, I know that. But I'm not sure whether I became an American by adoption, because I don't know whether Dad, uh Georg Helmstedter, uh, the cousin who adopted me ever became an American."

"Well," Major Horowitz started out talking carefully since his voice was about to falter. "it's not as serious for you, as it is for Ben, since you're not 21, yet.

"The only restriction is that the US Army can't station you in Germany. The NATO Status Of Forces Agreement forbids that, because you are a German national. But since you're serving this country, you can get US citizenship on your own, if you didn't get it through adoption."

Gerry looked more than stunned. "I was sort of thinking that they would station me in Germany, since I speak, read and write German." Major Horowitz just shook his head, sadly reinforcing the fact that the NATO agreement had turned the tables on Gerry, brutally cancelling his long-standing hopes.

***

The Specialist 4th Class, who'd used his winning smile to make implementing Marv's plan easier in signing me up for four years, arrived and started reporting to the Major, when Marv's old classmate told him to cut the crap. "We're not as strack over here as you are at the ASA. Besides, it's inappropriate."

"Uh, sorry, Sir." The guy's face was glowing by the time he could drop the salute.

"Now, have you heard about the problems Dr. Loughery is facing?"

The Specialist looked at me in total surprise. "No, Sir." His head was shaking for emphasis.

"Apparently, when Dr. Loughery was drafted, nobody bothered to ask him if he possibly owed allegiance to another country, as well. And only because this inept bureaucratic quagmire asked the State Department for his passport details, so they could take it for military use, did they find out that he'd never had an American travel document."

"You're dual national?" The Specialist's face had become serious, as if he'd just asked me if I were bisexual.

Before I could answer, Major Horowitz butted in. "Possibly not, Specialist. Since he has voted in a French presidential election," He paused for effect. "he may have lost, and probably did lose his United States citizenship as upheld by the Supreme Court's decision in Perez v. Brownell, in which the Court affirmed Congress's right to revoke United States citizenship as a result of a citizen's voluntary performance of certain actions, like voting in a foreign election, even in the absence of any intent or desire on the person's part to lose their citizenship. This, of course, would make him only a citizen of France, thus an alien in this country."

The Specialist's shoulders collapsed, apparently he'd have to give back the brownie points he'd earned by signing me up. "That's a real shame." He looked at the Major. "With his language abilities and advanced college degree, I mean, after all, he's a native speaker of Chinese, not a Monterey Mary," At this obviously Queer designation, I cringed, which did not escape the Major. "he would have made O-3 on the spot and probably been put in our unofficial field office in Hong Kong. A civilian-clothes-only station. Loads of bennies. Hot and cold running women. The works." Then he turned to me. "Really sorry, Bud." I nodded absolution, and he smiled his thanks.

"But now, Specialist," Major Horowitz' voice became upbeat. "we need your assistance in referring him to Legal Clerk School."

"Yes, Sir." Specialist straightened his back. "No problem there."

***

We were finishing up in Major Horowitz' office, with his asking me to give his regards to Marv, whenever I saw him and exchanging pleasantries when Gerry spoke up out of the blue. "Major, Sir, could I ask a favor of you?"

"As long as it's legal." This, of course, brought a laugh except from Gerry.

"Uh, I was wondering," He swallowed with difficulty. "if you would help me change the MOS I enlisted for to Legal Clerk, too?" His face went red, again with embarrassment.

The Major sat back down and flipped the sheet of his yellow pad. "What's the MOS you signed up for?"

"Infantry." He answered meekly. The twitch in Major Horowitz' face was clearly visible. "But that was when I thought that the Army would send me to Germany, since I wanted to find out something about my father. You know, 'cause I still could have family there? He was born pretty close to Belsen, in Hamelin."

"Where the Pied Piper is from?" The Major's eyes were glistening.

Gerry nodded making eye contact with the officer, whose family had more than likely also been victimized by the same stupid government during the same stupid war. "I just sort of wanted to stay close to my buddy, Ben, since I won't be seeing any other family for a while."

Major Horowitz's eyes brightened when he called me family. "I'm sure that can be arranged. We'll just fill out a DA 1040. However, we may need some leverage."

"Leverage?" Gerry asked, not sure what the Major meant.

"Something that we can use to bargain with." He smiled shrewdly, looking at both of us. "Like an obligation."

Gerry looked at me, and I had already guessed, so I signaled approval with a nod. "We'll both volunteer for duty in Nam if we can work in the same office."

The Major shook his head in disbelief. "I was thinking along the lines of extending for a year." He made some more notes. "Is yours a four or three year commitment?"

"Four, Sir." Gerry smiled hopefully. He looked at me with eyebrows raised questioningly. I smiled at him to tell him that everything was alright

"And you Dr. Loughery?" Major Horowitz almost sighed. "Are you willing to go along with this plan?"

"I am, Sir." With that, I'd returned myself to the rank of an Army Private rather than a Doctor of Philology.

"Well, Gentlemen," Major Horowitz stood to shake our hands. "I think that we can cut a deal to put you into the relatively safe SJA office in downtown Saigon, rather than having you die for a country not really yours."

***

Fortunately, Gerry remembered the way back to our reception unit because I had absolutely no idea where we were. It was pitch black, the dim streetlamps did nothing to make navigating the post easy. And aside from the emotional impact of no longer belonging in the country in which I grew up, I really had nowhere to call home. Granted, I still had the small two-room apartment in Paris' 5th arrondissement, near the university, that Dad had bought for me. I sighed at the thought of that not qualifying as my home of record, since it was outside the country. But luckily, it was in my name, so my old man couldn't take that away.

Gerry squeezed my hand quickly so that no one would notice. "You okay, Lover?"

I shook my head. "The only thing that's okay at the moment is that you're near." I squeezed his hand back and sighed again. When I pulled out a cigarette, Gerry lit it with the matches he now carried around with him. "I have never felt so alien."

"Didn't you get teased in school for being Chinese?" His light blue eyes were laughing together with his voice.

"All the time. But never for not being American." I chuckled. "Not even during the worst days of the Red Scare." I thought about it. "Why? Did you get teased?"

"All the time." Although he was teasing me and laughed, I could hear the underlying bitterness. "Being actually from Germany with the first name of Gerry was a burden. Then there was Kraut. Even the teachers would call me that behind my back."

"I thought that most everybody in Yorkville was German." Of course, my idea stemmed from the fact that most everybody in Chinatown was Chinese, or at least married to a Chinese.

"Naw, there are loads of Hungarians, Czechs, Irish, enough to make life difficult for someone who comes from post-war Germany. Most all the Germans there are second and third generation. But oddly enough, a lot of the Hungarians and Czechs speak German." My Gerry didn't seem comfortable with remembering his childhood. The frown made him look far older than he was. "But that wasn't the problem. I kept being investigated for maybe being a communist. I would regularly get raked over the coals by my teachers, who always wanted to know what my parents' political leanings were."

"That must have really gotten old fast." I knew all too well what it had been, and was even still like with everybody looking for Reds under the beds.

"Yeah," The frown relaxed all of a sudden. "until one day in high school, when I was being interrogated during study hall by three teachers. Then the algebra teacher, a funny little lady who wore a wig and spoke with a non-descript foreign accent, asked me where in Germany I was born. When I told her in Belsen, where my parents died, and that I was adopted, she began yelling at the other teachers to leave me alone, that they had no right to do that to me." He chuckled.

"Wow," I shook my head. "what happened?"

"As it turns out, she had lost a lot of her family in Bergen-Belsen." Bad memories clouded his face. "She asked me what it had been like." His eyes were becoming moist.

I wondered what pain he was remembering. "Do you remember anything of the camp?"

He nodded. "The worst thing was the smell. Everything smelled of disinfectant. The soldiers called it carbolic acid and for the Germans, it was Karbol."

He sighed deeply. "Then there was the waiting and the disappointments. The International Refugee Organization and the German Red Cross were trying to locate relatives to take me in. They couldn't locate anyone in Hamelin, since they had either been killed in the bombing raids or fled. My mother's family was in the Soviet Sector of Berlin and the British refused to send me to the communists. So, I stayed with about thirty other kids in a British barracks until they found Emma and Georg."

I laughed dryly. "What was that barracks like?"

He blurted out laughing at the question. "It was exactly like the one we live in now. Exactly. There must be one universal architect for Army barracks. The upstairs bay was for the boys, the girls were downstairs."

My mood shifted. "So, when did you finally get here?"

"I didn't get here until '51. And the soldiers had spoken English with us, and we spoke German among ourselves. So, that was no problem."

His face softened. "There was one soldier, who was eighteen or nineteen at the most, who would go with me to my parents' graves. He was an orphan, like me. He said that he would adopt me but he wasn't twenty one yet and he had to get married, first." His eyes could no longer contain the moisture; his cheeks were now glistening in the weak street lighting. "He was the best big brother I could imagine." He wiped his face. "Until you came along."