Playing Tag with the Devil – An Ode to Military Humor

Have you ever been in a situation where something or someone or a combination of events from your past comes back to haunt you?  Let’s say this theoretical situation occurred in your childhood when you were a mere lad in say the second or third grade.  So, you couldn’t have been more than say eight or nine years old, at the most.  Even if you had done something seriously wrong, and I’m not saying any of you have because I’m not saying I did.  All I’m saying is that something may have risen its ugly head to remind you of something questionable that you may or may not have had a hand in doing or causing to be done.  Now that I have piqued your curiosity, let me set the scene.  I was traveling from Fort Lewis, Washington to Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland to attend a school of some sort.  I’m not sure which one, and it really doesn’t matter because it’s not germane to the story.  As I always did when I was traveling across the US, I stopped in at my parents’ house in North Dakota for a week or so.  On this particular occasion, the parents of an old friend of mine invited me over for dinner.  Their last name was Woehl.  They were parents of an only child named Darren.  I remember back to when I first met Darren.  His parents were very strict and very religious.  They considered my brothers and me to be agents of the devil straight from hell.  As true as I’m sitting here, I heard Darren’s mother say on more than one occasion, “Those boys are ruffians and rabble-rousers.  They’re always up to no good.  They will be the death of you if I allow you to play with them.”  Of course, we never got a say in the matter.  We were accused, tried, and convicted, and we weren’t ever sure exactly what it was we had done.  But we were guilty as charged, nevertheless.  We were known as “those boys in that house on the corner with all the trees.”  Let me tell you something, there were a lotta boys in that house on the corner with all the trees.  Anyway, I was invited to dinner by Mister and Mrs. Woehl.  I must say the invitation took me by surprise.  It really did.  And here’s why.  First, when I was a kid, they made no secret of the fact that they did not like me or my brothers at all.  In fact, they thought I was the devil incarnate.  I’m not denying that I was.  But that’s beyond the point.  They always wanted my mug posted on the FBI’s 10 most wanted list as a kid.  So, hopefully, you will understand if I was just a little bit suspicious of their sudden warming in diplomatic relations.  When my parents told me that the Woehls wanted to invite me to dinner, I was just a tad bit hesitant to accept.  Naturally, I called them to get more information.  Nobody wants to walk into the enemy’s camp unarmed.  For example, I wanted to know if Darren was going to be there.  I found out that he was not going to be there.  That seemed odd.  Once I heard that Darren wasn’t going to be there, I really smelled a rat.  But Mrs. Woehl explained that it was just a thank you meal for being Darren’s friend for so many years.  I went over to the Woehl house and had a very enjoyable dinner meal.  After dinner, we retired to the living room for pleasant conversation, or so I thought.  Mister and Mrs. Woehl reminisced about so many of the stories Darren shared with them about escapades that he and I had pulled off through the years as children and later as teenagers and young adults.  They shared some photos that Darren had taken over the years.  I had forgotten some of those events depicted in the photos and they brought back a flood of memories of my own.  In hindsight, it was a well-crafted set up.  I never saw it coming until the trap was sprung.  Very casually, Mrs. Woehl asked me about an event that had occurred back when we lived in the house just up the street from them on the corner of South First Street just behind the Chevy dealer.  I was thinking, “Christ, that has to go back to when I was like eight or nine.  That’s a long damn time ago.  I wonder what the hell she’s fishing for?”  Out loud, I said, “I remember living in that house on the corner.  The basement leaked like a sieve every time it rained to the point where we had a swimming pool in the basement.  The reason I bring that up is because my brothers and I had to sleep in the basement.  Our beds basically became boats every time it rained.  And yes, we did have to wade through the water to get up the stairs to the kitchen.”  Mrs. Woehl replied, “No. I’m not thinking about the house.  I’m thinking about a specific event that occurred one Thursday or Friday afternoon.”  “Oh really.  What might that have been?”  “Well, it was really strange actually.  That’s why I thought you might be able to help us out.  I thought you might be able to help us understand what happened.”  (Note to reader: this is the part that I was warning you about.  You know, where something or someone or a combination of events out of your past comes back to haunt you.)  “Could you give me a little hint about what you’re referring to?”  “Well, it was the strangest thing.  The doorbell to the house rang.  We went to the door and found Darren on our front porch.  He was unconscious and there was nobody else around.  When he finally woke up, he couldn’t remember where he had been or what had happened.  But we knew he had been playing with you boys.  Could you please tell me what happened all those years ago?”  “First of all, I want to stress to you that it wasn’t my fault.  I hope you understand that.  Second, you don’t have a gun, right?  You’re not going to shoot me or anything, are you?  Cuz I don’t have any of my guns with me.  It wasn’t my fault.”  “What wasn’t your fault?”  “Do you remember how you used to say that we were the devil incarnate?”  “Yes, I remember.”  “Well, that particular afternoon when Darren came over, we were playing tree tag with the Watkins boys.  When I say we, I mean my brother Jed, my brother Ron, and me and two of the Watkins boys.”  “Tree tag?  What is tree tag?”  “Well, you know the game of tag right?  Tree tag sort of works like that.  You play tag except in trees.  There’s a few exceptions or changes to the rules such as if you touch the ground you’re automatically it.  If you are it, you cannot catch somebody and tag them while you are on the ground.  The only person that can be on the ground is the person who is it.  And the only way to get away from whoever is it is to climb and move from tree to tree.  Pretty simple, huh?  That’s tree tag.  Well, what happened was that Darren was it.  Well, let me backup.  When Darren came over, we told him he shouldn’t play because the game was kind of dangerous and he might get hurt.  Cuz my brother Ron had fallen from a tree once and had broken an arm.  We also said that he would be playing tree tag with the devil.  Cuz basically we were the devil.  My brothers and me, I mean.  You had even said so.  He wouldn’t have any of that.  He insisted on playing.  We said all right.  Well, as I said, he was it, and he was chasing me.  I guess he thought I was the best target.  Bad move.  I might’ve been the biggest guy out there.  I might’ve been the slowest guy out there as well.  Slowest, that is, if we were running a road race.  But we weren’t running a road race.  We were climbing trees.  And I could climb trees like a monkey.  Anyway, Darren was chasing me.  So, I jumped from one tree to another tree to get away from him.  As I did, the branch I had crossed over onto broke. I heard it snap.  Crack!  I thought Darren did too.  When I saw that he was going to try to cross, I yelled and told him not to cross because I had broken the branch.  He didn’t believe me.  He thought I was lying to him just to get away.  I wasn’t.  I was trying to keep him from getting hurt.  But he didn’t believe me.  He crossed over and stepped on that broken branch and straight down to the ground, he went.  Boom!  We all felt it when he hit the ground.  He must’ve fallen at least 20 or 25 feet.  When we all got to him, he wasn’t moving, and he wouldn’t wake up.  We thought he was dead.  I swear to God.  We thought he was dead.  So, one of the Watkins boys rushed home and got a wagon.  We loaded Darren into the wagon and hauled him to your house and put him on the porch.  Then, the Watkins boys took off with the wagon.  One of us rang your doorbell.  Then we all took off running and hid.  We didn’t know what else to do.  That’s the honest to God truth.  I don’t know why Darren didn’t tell you.  Maybe if he had told you, you never would have let him play with us again.  But there you have it.  That’s the real story.”  “My!  That certainly is some story.”  “But it’s not just a story.  It’s the truth.  That’s what really happened.  Ask Darren.  He doesn’t have anything to lose now.  I can’t believe that he doesn’t remember what happened.  He knows.”  “Oh, I’m sure he does.  We just wanted to hear the story from you because you were his closest friend all through the years.”  “Really?”  “Yes.  As a matter of fact, every time he comes back home, he goes to your parents’ house to ask about you.  He said that every time you came back home on leave from the Army you always spent time with him.  He always mentions the motorcycle riding.”  “I never knew.  I knew we were pretty good friends.  But I always thought that he had other friends that were, like special.”  “No.  He’s always considered you as his best friend.”  Now that they were laying it on super thick, I really had to get out of there quick.  I could feel the storm clouds gathering.  This was going to be one hell of a storm.  And I did not want to be in that house when it hit.  I got the feeling that we were going out to a Turkey farm at Thanksgiving to slaughter a turkey and I was the turkey.  I told the Woehls that I had to go because I was leaving for the East Coast early in the morning.  They said they understood and bid me good evening.  I thanked them for the delicious dinner meal and the company as I headed out the door.  I was glad to be gone from there in one piece.  I don’t know if they ever accepted my version of what really happened that day so many years earlier when Darren had gotten hurt.  I couldn’t believe that Darren had not told his parents what had happened.  Why couldn’t he own up to the fact that he had played tree tag with the devil and he had lost.  As it was, I got bamboozled into enduring another exercise in futility.

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