(MUSIC)Our story today is called, "The Return of a Private. " It was writtenby Hamlin Garland. Here is Harry Monroe with our story.
(MUSIC)Narrator: The soldiers cheered as the train crossed the border intothe state of Wisconsin. It had been a long trip from the south back totheir homes in the north.
One of the men had a large red scar across his forehead. Another hadan injured leg that made it painful for him to walk. The third hadunnaturally large and bright eyes, because he had been sick withmalaria.
The three soldiers spread their blankets on the train seats and triedto sleep. It was a cold evening even though it was summertime. PrivateSmith, the soldier with the fever, shivered in the night air.
His joy in coming home was mixed with fear and worry. He knew he wassick and weak. How could he take care of his family? Where would hefind the strength to do the heavy work all farmers have to do? He hadgiven three years of his life to his country. And now he had verylittle money and strength left for his family.
Morning came slowly with a pale yellow light. The train was slowingdown as it came into the town of La Crosse where the three soldierswould get off the train. The station was empty because it was Sunday.
"I'll get home in time for dinner," Smith thought. "She usually hasdinner about one o'clock on Sunday afternoon,” and he smiled.
Smith and the other two soldiers jumped off the train together. "Well,boys," Smith began, "here's where we say good-bye. We've marchedtogether for many miles. Now, I suppose, we are done." The three menfound it hard to look at each other.
"We ought to go home with you," one of the soldiers said to Smith.
"You'll never be able to walk all those miles with that heavy pack onyour back.""Oh, I'm all right," Smith said, putting on his army cap. "Every steptakes me closer to home."They all shook hands. "Good-bye!" "Good luck!" "Same to you!" "Good-bye!"Smith turned and walked away quickly. After a few minutes, he turnedagain and waved his cap. His two friends did the same. Then theymarched away with their long steady soldier's step. Smith walked for awhile thinking of his friends. He remembered the many days they hadbeen together during the war.
He thought of his friend, Billy Tripp, too. Poor Billy! A bullet cameout of the sky one day and tore a great hole in Billy's chest.
Smith knew he would have to tell the sad story to Billy's mother andyoung wife. But there was little to tell. The sound of a bulletcutting through the air. Billy crying out, then falling with his facein the dirt.
The fighting he had done since then had not made him forget the horrorof that moment when Billy died.
Soon, the fields and houses became familiar. Smith knew he was closeto home. The sun was burning hot as he began climbing the last hill.
Finally, he reached the top and looked down at his farm in thebeautiful valley. He was almost home.
Misses Smith was alone on the farm with her three children. Mary wasnine years old. Tommy was six and little Teddy had just turned four.
Misses Smith had been dreaming about her husband, when the chickensawakened her that Sunday morning. She got out of bed, got dressed andwent out to feed the chickens. Then she saw the broken fence near thechicken house. She had tried to fix it again and again. Misses Smithsat down and cried.
The farmer who had promised to take care of the farm while her husbandwas away had been lazy and dishonest. The first year he shared thewheat with Misses Smith. But the next year, he took almost all of itfor himself. She had sent him away. Now, the fields were full ofwheat. But there was no man on the farm to cut it down and sell it.
Six weeks before, her husband told her in a letter that he would becoming home soon. Other soldiers were returning home, but her husbandhad not come. Every day, she watched the road leading down the hill.
This Sunday morning she could no longer stand being alone. She jumpedup, ran into the house and quickly dressed the children. She carefullylocked the door and started walking down the road to the farmhouse ofher neighbor, Misses Gray.
Mary Gray was a widow with a large family of strong sons and prettydaughters. She was poor. But she never said 'no' to a hungry personwho came to her farm and asked for food. She worked hard, laughedoften and was always in a cheerful mood.
When she saw Misses Smith and the children coming down the road,Misses Gray went out to meet them. "Please come right in, MissesSmith. We were just getting ready to have dinner."Misses Smith went into the noisy house. Misses Gray's children werelaughing and talking all at the same time. Soon she was laughing andsinging with the rest of them.
The long table in the kitchen was piled with food. There werepotatoes, fresh corn, apple pies, hot bread, sweet pickles, bread andbutter and honey. They all ate until they could eat no more. Then themen and children left the table. The women stayed to drink their tea.
"Mamma," said one of Misses Gray's daughters. “Please read ourfortunes in the tea leaves! Tell us about our futures!"Misses Gray picked up her daughter's cup and stirred it first to theleft, then to the right. Then she looked into it with a seriousexpression. "I see a handsome man with a red beard in your future,"she said. Her daughter screamed with laughter.
Misses Smith trembled with excitement when it was her turn. "Somebodyis coming home to you," Misses Gray said slowly. "He's carrying arifle on his back and he's almost there."Misses Smith felt as if she could hardly breathe. "And there he is!"Misses Gray cried, pointing to the road. They all rushed to the doorto look.
A man in a blue coat, with a gun on his back, was walking down theroad toward the Smith farm. His face was hidden by a large pack on hisback.
Laughing and crying, Misses Smith grabbed her hat and her children andran out of the house. She hurried down the road after him, calling hisname and pulling her children along with her. But the soldier was toofar away for her voice to reach him.
When she got back to their farm, she saw the man standing by thefence. He was looking at the little house and the field of yellowwheat. The sun was almost touching the hills in the west. The cowbellsrang softly as the animals moved toward the barn.
"How peaceful it all is," Private Smith thought. "How far away fromthe battles, the hospitals, the wounded and the dead. My little farmin Wisconsin. How could I have left it for those years of killing andsuffering?”
Trembling and weak with emotion, Misses Smith hurried up to herhusband. Her feet made no sound on the grass, but he turned suddenlyto face her. For the rest of his life, he would never forget her faceat that moment.
"Emma!" he cried.
The children stood back watching their mother kissing this strangeman. He saw them, and kneeling down he pulled from his pack threehuge, red apples. In a moment, all three children were in theirfather's arms. Together, the family entered the little unpaintedfarmhouse.
Later that evening, after supper, Smith and his wife went outside. Themoon was bright, above the eastern hills. Sweet, peaceful stars filledthe sky as the night birds sang softly, and tiny insects buzzed in thesoft air.
His farm needed work. His children needed clothing. He was no longeryoung and strong. But he began to plan for next year. With the samecourage he had faced the war, Private Smith faced his difficultfuture.
(MUSIC)Announcer: You have just heard the story, "The Return of a Private."It was written by Hamlin Garland, and adapted for Special English byDona de Sanctis. Your narrator was Harry Monroe.
The Voice of America invites you to listen again next week at thissame time to another AMERICAN STORY. This is Susan Clark.
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