SINS of the FATHER Read online

  “When did this happen?”

  “Right after you fixed up your place and moved out. I guess he even tried to locate you through the real estate agent.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. My agent knew exactly where I was staying.”

  “All I know is what he told me. He seemed most interested in gramps' stuff. He said they had a pretty good collection of Vietnam material.”

  Alan didn’t say anything. He was processing what she had just told him. Why the sudden interest and how hard could it have been to find him?”

  “Alan,” Cindy said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking. Did he leave a name?” Alan asked.

  “I have a card he left,” she said getting it off the fireplace mantel.

  “He had a slight accent,” Cindy told him.

  “What kind of accent?”

  “I don’t know. French maybe. I guess it could have been German. It was hard to tell. It was very slight. Why? You seem upset by this.”

  “No, not upset. Just curious,” Alan replied.

  “Anyway. So what was this long story you were going to tell me?” Cindy asked.

  “Oh that. Well, as you know, I sold my house. I got rid of almost everything I own, the rest I put in storage. I’ve been talking about doing some travel. I decided I was going to take a month and go to Europe. See some of the stuff I’ve never seen. Go to some of the places where gramps was. Kind of relive the past.”

  “Just like that? What about getting a job? You had offers, you told me about a couple of them.”

  “I just don’t want to be a paid ‘advisor’ in Afghanistan or any place else over there. Two tours with the Army were enough. It’s another Vietnam. We didn’t learn anything from pop’s war. You either go in and finish it the right way or don’t go in at all. We didn’t in Korea or Vietnam and now the middle-east. You would think someone would wake up but so far we just keep doing the same stupid things,” he said.

  “Whoa, sorry I asked.”

  “Yeah, I know. I get on my soap box about the stupidity of our military leaders that don’t know squat and have never even been in a fire-fight.”

  “Okay, so you are going to travel. For a whole month?”

  “Maybe. I’ll see how I like it and then decide.”

  “When are you going?” Cindy asked.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “No use waiting,” Alan said.

  “Do you have any idea what a ticket will cost when you buy one on a day’s notice? That’s crazy Alan. That’s just throwing money away.”

  “If I don’t do it now, I’ll talk myself out of it.”

  “So what? You haven’t really thought this through anyway.”

  “Maybe not but I’m going tomorrow. I have money and a few bucks one way or the other isn’t going to change anything.”

  “So you are going to Europe but you’re not sure where. You have no hotels, no transportation and don’t know one thing about any of the countries. That’s just brilliant.”

  “Why thank you Sis. I knew you would approve.”

  “Alan, I love you but you are a dumbass.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Alan had to use the hotel's computer in the lobby to buy his ticket online. He almost swallowed his tongue when he saw the price. His sister had been right. It was a thousand dollars for the ticket one way. He considered just waiting but when he factored in staying at a hotel all that time, it would be better to just bite the bullet and get the ticket.

  Was he being totally stupid? What did he think he was going to find? Where would he even begin to look? Sitting in his room at the Best Western he pulled out the diary once again and opened the sheet of paper with the numbers on it. Something in those numbers was the key. The key to what?

  He threw the diary on the bed and sat at the small desk pondering how he would even begin. His phone rang, startling him. Only his sister knew where he was.

  “Alan Lang.”

  “Mr. Lang. There is a gentleman here who says he would like to visit you. His name is…” he could hear her asking the man again, “Mr. Clouse.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know him.”

  “He said to tell you it was about your grandfather.”

  Alan frowned. His grandfather? What was this all about?

  “Alright you can send him up.”

  “Thank you,” the operator said and hung up.

  Alan paced, waiting for the knock on the door. A minute later he heard the light tapping. He looked through the peep hole and saw a man a little older than him, dressed in a suit. Alan opened the door.

  “Mr. Lang. Nice to meet you at last. I’m Fredric Clouse.”

  “Mr. Clouse. What can I do for you?”

  “Please, call me Fredric. May I come in?” the man replied.

  “Well, there isn’t much in the room, a couple of chairs is all.”

  “That will be fine. I won’t be long I promise.”

  Alan opened the door and Fredric walked in looking around.

  “Please, have a seat and tell me what this is all about,” Alan said sitting down across from him.

  “I am the curator of the VFW main library. For many years we have been trying to track down former World War Two veterans. Since several popular movies have come out we have had a tremendous influx of visitors. We have been expanding but we need additional materials. We want to tell the story from all points of view. Your grandfather was a highly decorated war hero. I.., no we, the VFW wondered if you had any of the medals or other memorabilia that he may have left behind. We would be willing to compensate you generously for the items and make sure they were given the respect they deserved,” he said.

  “Did you talk to my father about this?”

  “Actually I didn’t but one of my colleagues did. He seemed very…I guess I would say, distressed when we brought up your grandfather. I’m not sure what the problem was but he didn’t want to talk about it much.”

  “I see. Well Mr. Clouse, there wasn’t all that much. His medals, dress uniform and a bunch of pictures. Oh, and some uniform patches,” Alan replied.

  “Oh. We were hoping he had brought home some souvenirs that we could display.”

  “Sorry nothing like that. Actually my father, he served in Vietnam, didn’t have much either. I guess they weren’t into collecting stuff like that,” Alan told him.

  “Well people like your grandfather were quite unique. We have some old editions of Stars and Stripes. Your grandfather was in several additions. There was a picture of him with General George Patton. We have those on display.”

  “That’s really neat. I would like to see that sometime.”

  “Certainly. I can scan it and email you a copy if you like.”

  “I don’t have a computer at the moment. I just sold everything and am going to go to Europe for a while. Sort of travel around and visit the areas where my gramps served.”

  “How interesting. How do you know where all he was?” the man asked.

  “I have his diary. It is very detailed. He was in Northern Africa before he came ashore on Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.”

  “Very interesting. I would love to see what he wrote. Would that be possible?”

  “Unfortunately I am leaving for Paris tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. Maybe when I come back.”

  “We could display it. Copy some of the pages and let people see what soldiers were thinking about,” Clouse said.

  “Like I said, maybe when I get back.”

  “Is that it on the bed,” he asked.

  “Oh heavens no. That’s my own diary. I may write a book someday and like to jot down my thoughts,” Alan explained.

  “I see,” he said, looking into Alan’s eyes.

  Finally Alan looked away, “Well I have a big day tomorrow so if you will excuse me,” Alan said standing up.

  Clouse sat there just a few seconds longer, looking over at the diary. Finally he stood and held out
his hand.

  “Have a safe trip. Europe is very different from the United States. It can be dangerous if one isn’t careful,” he said and smiled quickly.

  Alan opened the door and Clouse left quickly without looking back or saying another word.

  Alan picked up the book. He should never have left it out in the open. If he had more time he would find out if Mr. Clouse actually did work for the VFW but there simply wasn’t enough time.

  He sat out his clothes, jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and a light weight jacket. While on the computer he had checked the Paris weather conditions and found that it was pretty chilly at night. He could always buy a heavier coat if he found he needed it. Carrying a bulky coat on the plane just didn’t appeal to him. He packed the rest of his things and set the alarm clock for 5:30 a.m. The last thing he did before crawling into bed was to look at the list of numbers one more time.

  What were they trying to tell him? And what was Mr. Clouse all about? It seemed as if he was practically drooling when looking over at the diary on the bed. This was all very strange indeed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When the alarm went off, he groaned and walked across the room and shut it off. It was the only way he could be sure he would actually get up rather than going back to sleep. He brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his hair, and got dressed. He grabbed his suitcase and carry on and headed down to the lobby. He saw the shuttle driver loading luggage and walked outside. It was cold and rain was definitely on the way.

  “JFK?”

  “Yes sir,” he said and placed the bag on a rack along with his carry on.

  Only two other people were on the shuttle. He picked a seat next to the window and sat down. A few minutes later a very attractive woman got on and walked back to where he was and sat down just across from him. She smiled and he smiled back and then she started digging through her purse. Very nice, the thought.

  The shuttle jerked and a few seconds later they were on their way. It took a lot longer to get to the airport than he had expected. They finally pulled up to the international terminal and Alan let the lady get out first and followed her down the aisle. She was attractive from every angle he decided.

  Once inside the terminal he headed to the ticket counter and looked at the long line. It wasn’t even 6:00 a.m. and people were already lined up. This was going to take forever.

  “Do you have one of these,” a soft voice said behind him.

  He turned and found the same lady from the shuttle standing there. She was holding up a piece of paper with a bar code on it.

  “Yes,” Alan said digging it out of his carry on.

  “Then you are in the wrong line. Those lines are for people with ticket problems or checking luggage.”

  “I am checking luggage. At least this one piece,” he said.

  “Go back out and you can check it at the curb. It will take a third of the time. They you can go to the computer and enter your information. It will print your boarding pass and off you go.”

  “Hey, thanks. I just give it to the guy at the curb?”

  “The Sky Cap. Tip him a few bucks and it will be sure to get to the same place you are going,” she said smiling.

  Alan tried not to let his jaw drop open. She was absolutely stunning.

  “Thank a bunch,” he said and headed back out the door.

  He checked his luggage with the Sky Cap and came back in. He could see the woman at the computer typing away on the touch screen. He got in line and a few minutes later he had his boarding pass and headed to the gate.

  His first obstacle was of course TSA. After he had removed half his clothes, put everything he owned on a conveyor belt and been x-rayed he was allowed to pass. It was such a farce. Any real terrorist with an IQ above a cucumber could find a way around the system. It only served to inconvenience honest citizens.

  He stopped at a kiosk and got a cinnamon roll and Diet Coke and went to customs. They looked at his passport, looked at him, looked at the passport and sent him on through. The passport was seven years old and had a picture of him with longer hair, a mustache and small goatee. Now he was clean shaven and had much shorter hair. Go figure.

  After finally getting past all the hassle points he made it to gate 14 and found a place to sit down. He finished the rest of his Diet Coke and laid his head back and closed his eyes. A short time later they started to board and twenty minutes later he was seated with his lap belt on. He was always amused by the seat belt big ordeal. He was going to be traveling at 600 miles an hour and if the plane hit the ground all the seatbelt would do was cut him in half. Boy, that made him feel better.

  Eventually everyone was on board, the attendants were happy with everyone and the plane taxied to the end of the runway. He could hear the engines wind up and then he was forced back in the seat as it hurled down the runway. Now all he had to do was find a way of passing time for the next eleven hours. He was fortunate that no one was in the seat next to him so he sat his carry on bag on the seat and rummaged through it. He took out a book he had just bought at the news kiosk called THE END by MW Huffman and started reading it.

  **

  Alan stood up, stretched and decided to just walk down the aisle to get the blood circulating. It would be another hour before dinner was served. Ten rows back he was surprised to see the young woman who had been on the shuttle and later at the airport. She was asleep with a cover pulled up to her chin. A woman like that had to be going home to meet her husband or boyfriend, he thought as he walked on by. She was still sleeping when he made the return trip.

  The meal was better than he had expected. Not only was it pretty good but they were generous with wine, champagne, bread, and desserts. Fortunately the book he had bought was a really good one so it helped pass the time. He finally drifted off to sleep around 3:00 a.m.

  The next thing he knew they were serving breakfast. Again the food was very tasty. An hour later they were getting ready to land at CDL (Charles De Gaulle) airport. He put his things back in his luggage and buckled his seat belt. The plane landed smoothly and taxied to the terminal. As usual, passengers stood up immediately even though they were told to wait. Alan remained seated.

  People stood, jostling for position in the aisle. Alan just watched and waited. It was almost ten minutes later before the line started edging towards the exit. He was kind of hoping to see the young lady again but he missed her somehow. Finally when only a few other passengers remained, he got up and exited the plane.

  This is where he ran into his first obstacle. The line to get through the Police aux Frontière was ridiculously long. There was only one agent on duty and it took over an hour to just show his passport. He was informed by a sign that he would need to get on the shuttle and go to the baggage area and claim his suitcase. It sounded easy enough but it wasn’t. Even after he found the shuttle train and got off where he was told, it was difficult to find just where he was to pick up his luggage. After asking several people who spoke some English, he finally located it. He was somewhat surprised to find that the carrousel had been moving and a lot of people had ready left. He saw his suitcase a few minutes later and pulled it along following the signs to customs.

  He had no idea what to do next. Fortunately a student came by and asked if he needed help. The student told him how to get a REB pass and where to go to get to the center of Paris. This presented his second obstacle, to get a ticket for the REB to Paris he needed to purchase a ticket but the machines only took Euros. Then another problem cropped up, to get where he could buy Euros he had to go through a turnstile which needed a different ticket. Fortunately once again someone who spoke English helped him find a ticket machine that would take a credit card.

  Just when he thought he was at last making progress, the machine would not accept his card. He hadn’t informed them that he was going out of the country so they would not honor it. Once again someone took pity and directed him to a money exchange. He took a beating on the rate but at this point all he wanted to do was
get out of the place.

  Eventually, REB ticket in hand, and finding the train station, he was becoming less stressed. Once he was on the train he felt better. At least he would make it as far as Paris. It took close to an hour to arrive in the city. He got off at the Gare du Nord train station. It was 11:40 a.m and he still didn’t have a plan of action. In fact he had no idea what to do next.

  CHAPTER TEN

  From the Gare du Nord train station he took the metro not really knowing where he was going. Finally there was a large mass exit of people at a place called Place de Clichy so he just followed along. He reasoned if it was a popular place, he would find other Americans he could get information from.

  He followed the long tunnel from the metro to the stairs that eventually brought him out in the middle of a circle with cars rushing about. He certainly didn’t see any special place. Restaurants, shops, restaurants and more restaurants was all he could see in any direction. Okay, genius, what are you going to do now, he thought. Maybe his sister had been right after all. He felt almost helpless. Of course standing there with his luggage certainly wasn’t helping him to blend in.

  Just as he was trying to decide which way to go he heard a commotion going on behind him. He turned and a man was grabbing a young woman by the arm and making her march back up the stairs to where he was standing. Now what, Alan thought?”

  “She take your money,” the man said in halting English.’

  He held the woman’s arm out for him to see that she had pick-pocketed him. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t felt a thing. The man made her hand it back to him. He stood there stunned as the man let the woman go and disappeared back down the steps. Geez, that would not have happened in the US. No one would actually jump in and help. He was starting to like Paris already.