On Leatherwood Creek
Dutchtown Boys Grew Up in Poverty and Fought WW II As Teenagers to Take Their Place in the Greatest Generation
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The Great Skinny-dip Caper Our gang roamed the banks of Leatherwood creek all summer of our fifth grade and skinny dipping at Sycamore, our favorite swimming hole, was the order of the day. The big trees on the bank allowed us swim in shade or full sun. There were a few precautions to take when swimming in our ‘birthday suits.’ We had to be careful where we stashed our clothes because some guys might sneak up and hide them, tie them in knots or fill pants pockets with rocks and toss them in the creek. Our security plan was simple. We wadded the riffles below the deep water, stripped down on the bank opposite the trees and relied on our dogs to sound the alarm if anyone came around. The system failed one day in late July and led to an embarrassing incident for our gang. Maudy Harkins and four other girls in our Lincoln School fifth grade class caught us skinny dippin’ at high noon. We knew something was up the minute we saw them because they were on our side of the creek. The dogs hadn’t warned us and that fact was really worrisome. Doc said we might as well get ready for trouble, because we had teased them a lot during the past year. We didn’t have to wait long for the bad news. Maudy led the jeering as they bragged about sneaking up on us while we were splashing around in a water fight and tossing our pants into a weed patch in the gravel several feet from the water. After that announcement, they splashed across the shallow riffles and sat on the bank, laughing and daring us to come out and find our duds. Maudy and her gang had made themselves comfortable and showed no signs of leaving. They were having a fine time at our expense. Now, the tables were turned and we were their helpless victims. We had been ambushed, caught like rats in a trap and doomed to endure jeers and shrill catcalls like: “Come on out boys we won’t peek” Chad called for a quick huddle and we decided to stay in the creek until our tormentors got tired of the game and went on their merry way. However, the ‘pests’ enjoyed the sunshine and continued taunting us! The day dragged on and they showed no signs of leaving for lunch. The duel of minds continued and time ebbed as slowly as the current of the creek. We began to realize that we had teased them too often and they weren’t about to release us from their trap. It was evident that Maudy’s gang had been working on the project for weeks and we were the victims of very clever planning by girls determined to get revenge for jokes and ‘cat calls’ we had personalized and thrown at them during school recess! We were tired of soaking, but there was one puzzle to solve before we gave up. Something was fishy, why didn’t our dogs warn us when the girls were stealing our clothes? Tuffy was elected to yell and ask Maudy that burning question, “Hey Maudy, why didn’t our dogs bark when you guys swiped our clothes? “ She just laughed and replied, “Oh that was easy, we’ve been tossing them treats when we passed your houses for the last three weeks. Today, we were just their friends tossing them more treats. Wait, I’ll show you!” With that, she gave a loud whistle and our ‘loyal’ dogs bound out the shade and splashed across the riffles to join the tormentors on the other side off the creek for more treats. That demonstration crushed our morale and all hopes of redemption. We finally realized why our strategy wasn’t working. The sun was slowly sinking in the west, skinny-dippin’ had lost its charm and we were water-logged. Chad said we should ask for a truce and make one more try for a deal before we surrendered and waded out to find our clothes. We all agreed he could do the talking. So, he told Maudy and the girls we were sorry and ask them to please leave and let us get to our clothes. The giggling girls held a brief discussion and after some arguing, they agreed to let us save our dignity. They promised to put their hands over their eyes while we came out to get our pants. It wasn’t much of a deal, but we were water-logged. Skinny said he didn’t believe them and decided to stay in the water. The rest of us took them at their word, which was another mistake! Chad counted to three, before we splashed out of the water ‘buck naked’ and raced across the hot creek gravel into the weeds for our pants. All the while, the girls were laughing and cheering us on in our race and search for decency. I threw Skinny his pants and took off after the girls, but it was no use they were on the other side of the crick and had too much of a head-start. They made a clean escape up the trail at top speed. Later, Skinny said they kept their promise to keep hands over their eyes, but were peeking through their fingers as we scrambled to put on our duds! We had faint hopes they might keep quiet about the event, but we should have known better. School started after Labor Day and Maudy and her gang bragged to every kid in Lincoln school. News of their victory with the ‘Great Skinny Dip Caper’ had been spread far and wide. Our gang had to endure teasing, smug looks and giggles until the story became old news. There was nothing we could do about our humiliation, but laugh it off. We had literally been caught with our pants down and just had to grin and ‘bear’ it. But of course, we had already done that!
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About the Book
Life in the poverty of the Great Depression prior to World War II was a serious time, which today's generation can only imagine and could not endure. However, I have used the short story format, humor, and a sixth-grade vocabulary in many stories to encourage reading for ages twelve to ninety. The names of my boyhood pals represent many of my childhood pals, and stories are based on real events. My sketches and photos help set the scene for each short story, which stands alone but is more or less in order of events and seasons. The sketches also signify that I qualify as a starving artist.
The twenty-five percent unemployment in our community led to many people living on the edge of starvation. Families lived in houses without electricity, water, or central heating, and their lives were not complicated by bathrooms, air conditioning, television, computer games, or cell phones. The outhouse was on the alley, and house water came from well pumps or a neighbor's faucet. Schools and parents demanded strict discipline, and education was important. Most families were striving to survive and rear their children to be law-abiding citizens. Children spent time in the fresh air, organized their own games, and roamed the streets, fields, or woodlands. However, they were assigned home chores and expected to contribute to the family. The Greatest Generation saved our country and the freedom we have enjoyed for three-quarters of a century.
About the Author
James Lee Hutchinson's fifth book of short stories is an Indiana bicentennial project telling of boys in Southern Indiana during the Great Depression of 1930–1942 and a prequel to his Eighth Air Corps books. The hardships of children who lacked food and lived in homes with no plumbing, electricity, or central heating are unknown to this generation. They skinny dipped in the creek or roamed fields and woods. Their lives were not complicated by bathrooms, air conditioning, television, computer games, or cell phones. Youngsters of the pre-war Depression survived poverty, fought as teenagers in World War II, and came home to make the United States a world power. They were the Greatest Generation.
The author holds three Indiana University degrees and is retired from thirty-seven years as an elementary teacher, a principal, and an assistant to the superintendent. He is a fifty-year Mason, Rotary, Paul Harris fellow, and Presbyterian elder.
The ninety-one-year-old Eighth Air Corps veteran flew twenty missions as a B-17 radio operator/gunner as a teenager. He speaks and writes to report World War II history from an old man who was there as a teenager. He has preserved two hundred short stories of World War ll veterans.