“All my life,” Gretchen says, “I have learned not to depend on good things happening, but I still always hope they will. One day you will come back, ja?”
“Ja,” I tole her, but I didn’t know if it was the truth or not. After all, things don’t seem to work out too good in my life, neither.
“When you come back,” Gretchen says, “I will be speaking English as well as you.”
“Ja,” I says.
Anyhow, next mornin we left Germany.
First, we loaded up all our stuff, which was tanks an self-propelled guns an things, an flowed off to Saudi Arabia. When we arrived there, our division was eighteen thousan strong. Added to the rest of our army, we is about a million against twice as many A-rabs, which our leader, General Norman Scheisskopf, says should make for a fair fight.
Saddamn an his A-rab army are occupyin the little country of Kuwait, which was known mostly for havin a bunch of awl wells. Matter of fact, they was enough awl in Kuwait to run the entire United States of America for ten years—which I spose was why we is here. We is fixin to thow them out, so’s we can keep the awl.
The one thing that stood out in my mind about Saudi Arabia was sand an dust. They was mountains of sand an dust everwhere we went. Got in your eyes an ears an nose an clothes, an soon as you’d wash it out, more dust an sand would come along. Somebody says the army have trucked in the dust an sand just so’s we would not get to feelin too comfortable before we had to fight Saddamn Hussein.
Since there is no latrine here except a hole in the ground, Sergeant Kranz an me have been returned to our duty cleanin tank treads, although this time it is not mud, but sand an dust we have to get out. Everday me an the sergeant be whiskin out the treads, which of course are just as dirty in five minutes than they ever were.
Anyway, one day we all get some time off an go into town.
The men are unhappy account of in Saudi Arabia they is virtually no whisky or women. In fact, whisky an women is against the law—well, whisky is anyway, an women might as well be, account of they run aroun inside big ole cloaks so’s you can’t see nothin but they eyes. The A-rab men wear them cloaks, too, an most of em have on them little shoes with toes that curl up at the ends. Somebody says that is because when they is out in the desert an gotta take a shit, they can grap ahold of the ends of the shoes when they bend over an it keeps them on balance. Whatever.
Anyhow, I am figgerin that long as I am here in the bazaar, I might as well send another present to little Forrest so’s he don’t think I have dropped off the edge of the earth. I gone into one of the shops an am lookin around at all the shit when the shopkeeper come up an ast what I want. I tole him a present for my son, an his eyes lighted up. He disappeared behind a ole curtin to the back of the store an reappear with a dusty wood box, which he laid out on the counter. When he open it up, I see inside a big shiny knife.
The shopkeeper very carefully run his fingers over the handle of the knife, which is black wood with a bunch of jewels set into it. It is a curved knife, with a fat blade that is inscribed with all sorts of fancy Arab writin.
“This was the dirk that our great liberator, Saladin the Magnificent, wore when he defeated the European crusaders in the twelfth century!” says the shopkeeper. “It is priceless!”
“Yeah?” I says. “So how do I know how much it cost?”
“For you,” he says, “nineteen ninety-five.”
So I gone on an bought it, thinkin there must be a catch—like maybe the note I wanted to send with it was gonna be a thousan bucks, but it wadn’t. In fact, the feller says he will ship it to the U.S. free of charge. I figgered you can’t beat that, an wrote little Forrest, tellin him the history of the knife that the shopkeeper tole me, an I warned him it was so sharp it would cut paper, so not to be rubbin his fingers on it. I just knew he was gonna go bananas when he got it.
Meantime, me an the guys continued walkin down the streets, everbody sort of grousin since they is really nothin to do but buy souvenirs an drink coffee. We gone down a bunch of dark ole alleys, where folks are sellin everthin from bananas to Band-Aids, when I seen somethin that sort of makes me stop. They is a little sunshade laid out with poles in the dirt, an under it is a feller drinkin from a big ole jar of Kool-Aid, an playin a hurdy-gurdy. I can’t see his face right away, but on the end of a rope he is holdin there is a big ole orangutang that looks pretty familiar. The orangutang is doin dances, an the man has a tin cup on the ground in front of him an, basically, he is a beggar.
I walked up closer, an the orangutang kind of looks at me funny for a second an then jumped up into my arms. It weighs so much, it knocked me flat on the ground, an when I looked up, I am starin into the face of ole Sue, from the good ole days when I was a spaceman back in New Guinea. Sue be clackin his teeth an givin me big ole slobbery kisses an chatterin an whimperin.
“Take your hands off that ape,” a voice says, an guess what? I looked over under the little sunshade an who do I see settin there but good ole Lieutenant Dan! I was so surprised, I like to of fainted.
“Great God!” says Lieutenant Dan. “Is that you, Gump?”
“Yessir,” I says. “I reckon it is.”
“What in hell are you doing here?” he says.
“I reckon I could ast you that same question” was my reply.
Lieutenant Dan, he is lookin a good deal healthier than the last time I seen him. That was even after Colonel North got him put in the Walter Reed Army Hospital. They has somehow got rid of his cough an he has put on weight an there is a luster to his eyes that was not there before.
“Well, Gump,” he says, “I read in the newspapers you ain’t wasted no time stayin in the doghouse. You done tricked the Ayatolja, got thowed in jail for contemptin the Congress, caused a riot down at some religious theme park, got arrested an put on trial for swindling millions of people, was responsible for the greatest single maritime environmental disaster of the world, an somehow managed to put an end to communism in Europe. All in all, I’d say you’ve had a fair few years.”
“Yup,” I says, “that’s about the size of it.”
All the while, Lieutenant Dan has been tryin to improve hissef. At first he done almost give up when he got to Walter Reed, but the doctors finally persuaded him he had a few more good years left. He got his army pension bidness straightened out, an so he don’t quite have to live from hand to mouth anymore. He traveled around for a while, mostly on military aircraft, which the pension entitles him to do, an which is also how he got here to Saudi Arabia.
One time a while back, he says, he was in New Orleans, just to take in the sights from the days when we lived there an to get him some good oysters on the half shell. He says that unlike most places, it ain’t changed a whole lot. One day he was settin in Jackson Square, where I used to play my one-man band, when lo an behole, along comes a ape that he recognized as Sue. Sue had been supportin hissef by kinda taggin along behind the fellers that was singin or dancin for money in the streets, an had learned to do a little dance hissef. Then, when everbody done thowed enough money in the tin cups, Sue would grap what he thought was his share an haul ass.
Anyhow, the two of them teamed up, an Sue would push Dan around town in a little grocery cart, account of his artificial legs still bothered him pretty much, although he still carries them around.
“If I need em, I’ll put em on,” Dan says, “but frankly it’s easier just sittin on my ass.”
“I still don’t understand why you is here,” I says.
“Cause it’s a war goin on, Forrest. My family ain’t missed a war in nine generations, an I ain’t gonna be the one to change that record.”