Company Punishment
by
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In November of 1942, Pvt. Bernie Abraham paused on the narrow boardwalk outside the orderly room of his new company. He dropped his two barracks bags, slipped his thick chest and shoulders out of his overcoat, and wiped the sweat from his dark-framed glasses. His woolen uniform made him much too hot for the late morning heat of northern Florida. But not so hot, he thought, as the two soldiers who trudged toward him, one behind the other, within the four boardwalks that formed the company square, their loads sinking their leggings, ankle-deep, in the sand. The leader bore a full-field pack, helmet, rifle and gas mask, his shuffling tracks lasting in the sand till his follower wiped them away by dragging a heavy chain. To Bernie, the links of that chain looked thick enough to lift a tank; they pulled the soldier’s arms back from his gaunt body and barely kept him from falling on his face. Appalled, the new recruit shook his head; started to speak in commiseration -- silenced, though, by the strained tilting of the soldier’s helmet back toward the window of the orderly room. There, Bernie glimpsed a movement but could not see anyone watching, reminded by this suffering chain-dragger that you must not talk to a man on company punishment unless you wanted it, too. And someone was watching, Bernie soon learned as he entered the orderly room. A man with a First Sergeant’s stripes on his sleeves turned from the window. "You the rookie they calls, ‘Deacon’?" he asked. The scowl on his hardened face then changed to a wink at the corporal seated at the nearby desk. Bernie put down his barracks bags. He’d hoped to leave that nickname -- Deacon -- at the recruit company, where his eyeglasses had prompted it from a friendly but misguided church-goer. What a tag for a Jew -- even for one as casual about religion as himself, who’d jog by the synagogue on his block and never go in. "Sergeant, my name’s Abraham," he said. "Now, Corporal Miller, did this four-eyes rookie answer my question? Maybe his ears ain’t so good, neither."
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About the Book
During the Second World War, Private Bernie Abraham, an irreligious Jew from the Bronx, reports to an Infantry company in the deep South and into the crossfire of a grudge by the anti-Semitic Captain Keller against the Jewish chaplain. Bernie pities two soldiers trudging in the hot sand on company punishment, one of them dragging a heavy chain. Also opposed to the cruel punishment is Lieutenant Glen, who’s then "chewed-out" by the captain -- much to the pleasure of Corporal Miller, who baits Bernie for being a Jew with dark-framed glasses – wearing which incurs for the rookie the nickname of "Deacon." Though it’s inappropriate for a Jew, Bernie, finds the name of "Deacon" more welcome when he’s so addressed by Elena, the beautiful girl waiting on him at the PX, who mistakes him for a devout Christian and invites him to her church – to hear an anti-Semitic sermon by her father, Reverend Hyland. In the approving congregation, Bernie also sees Captain Keller. Afterwards, despite his anger at her father’s sermon, Bernie still goes with Elena and lets her call him "Deacon." Not till they fall in love with each other does he tell her the truth about himself. Her acceptance of his confession serves to enhance their love -- which will come to a tragic end due to the connivance of Captain Keller. Two years later, Bernie’s grief and conflict with anti-Semitism merge into the debacle that begins the "Battle of the Bulge" – the surprise assault that crushes his division, taking thousands of prisoners and herding them in a long brutal march toward Germany. Behind them they hear the shots of their SS captors shooting any of the wounded and exhausted Americans who cannot keep up. Then, they’re surprised to see a convoy of American trucks and jeeps driving toward them, loaded with Germans in American uniforms – spies aiming to disperse and slip through the American front and cause confusion and panic. It also occurs to Bernie that if he and some of his buddies could somehow escape in an American vehicle, they need merely follow the route of the fake Yanks to be mistaken for them by the enemy in that region. Later, they do manage such a daring escape. To elude pursuit, they keep turning off and then back onto the main road – and suddenly find themselves in an enemy convoy. Apparently taking these real Yanks for a lagging part of the spy force, the Germans smile and wave them on, shaking their heads, making friendly gestures of sympathy, as if aware of how soon you’d face a firing squad if your enemy catches you in their uniform. But what if the Americans have already spotted and caught some of the fake Yanks? And also suspect the real Yanks of also being spies? Bernie gets a rough welcome from his fellow Americans.
About the Author
During World War II, Morris Breakstone was assigned to an Infantry company. He then volunteered for and saw combat with the First Special Service Force, an elite American and Canadian commando brigade that would become the model for the U.S. Special Forces, known as the Green Berets. His military background, however, serves more, he believes, to keep the surprising twists and reversals in his novel within ironic but plausible bounds. After the war, he enrolled under the G.I. Bill at the City College of New York, majoring in Psychology and earning a Master’s degree. He also worked as an attendant in two mental hospitals -- which would serve as authentic backgrounds for another novel. As a clinical psychologist, he had essays accepted for publication by professional journals like Mental Health, Michigan College Personnel Journal, and Review of Existential Psychology and Psychiatry. Promoted to Director of Psychology at a large state home and training school, he conducted seminars for nursing supervisors to help them improve their relationships with subordinates and patients. To keep fit, Breakstone worked out in the gym of the Adrian YMCA, where before newspaper and radio reporters he performed 709 push-ups in 34 minutes at the age of 70 -- a feat cited in Ripley’s "Believe It or Not" for which he got a standing ovation at the Michigan Senate. Morris Breakstone lives in Adrian, Michigan, with his wife Angie, a Special Education teacher. He relies very much on her help. So do their two cats.