* * *
Scratch couldn't take it anymore.
Living in Darktown, no job, no job prospects. Just sitting on Dobro's front porch, drinking swill from a jar and cuttin' up. So Scratch joined the Army. Dobro begged him not to go. Fighting in a white man's war. Had nothing to do with him or his family, killing Chinese people.
What else was there to do in Darktown? He wasn't allowed in Odarko, like other black folk. If anyone from Darktown ventured into the main town, they got harassment in the daytime, lynching at night. So they set up their own businesses, greengrocer, owned by Leon, produce stable, owned by Leon's brother Homer, and the three lookouts where you could get a proper drink – the Owl, the Redpiper and the Frolic – were co-owned by the Morrison brothers.
Even Scratch's sister Imelda told him not to leave Darktown.
“There's nothing outside of Darktown for you, Scratch,” Immy said.
“Ain't nothing inside Darktown for me, either,” Scratch told her.
Immy snorted. “Just because you look white don't mean they ain't gonna find out where you from.”
Scratch shrugged. “You could look white.”
“Not like you, Scratch,” Immy said.
Their father was Paul Gruber, a German who came to America for a better life after World War One and ended up as a bootlegger in Odarko. He took a shine to a golden-skinned young woman by the name of Sherry Williams. She'd been married at 14 to the Morrison brothers' cousin, Carter. That marriage produced no children and lasted until she was 18. Technically, she and Carter never dissolved their relationship by law. But she also never took Carter's last name.
She took up with Gruber but he never lived with her. For good reason. Gruber already had a wife and two boys and a girl. Sherry became pregnant with Allan. Then Imelda, a year later. Gruber kept up house with both women. They each knew about the other, but never met. Danika and her children lived in Cottonwood County, 20 miles from Odarko. Danika struggled with money and food just like Sherry did because, in spite of all the money Paul Gruber made, he spent most of it gambling, whoring or drinking.
Paul Gruber was stabbed to death in a Tulsa nightclub over 10 dollars owed to a man no one could identify and the police had no interest in catching. At least, that;s what everyone was told.
At 12 and 11, Allan and Imelda went to live with Danika's sister Collen in Tulsa while Sherry worked in all three lookouts, serving drinks or hosting live shows. That's where they got most of their education and the lie that both of them were of Spanish descent. Allan hated it in Tulsa. He was the first to leave, aged 14. Imelda stayed until she was 16. She flourished in school, even had a scholarship to Oklahoma State.
Sherry died just as Immy was ready to go to college.
Immy didn't take the scholarship. They both ended up back in Darktown, living in the shack Gruber bought for their mother.
Stealing produce from his uncle and selling it in Horace County got Scratch and Dobro in trouble. Uncle Homer's men got wind of it one night. They chased Dobro's old pickup down highway 20 and started shooting at them. Dobro lost control, the pickup slammed in a tree. Uncle Homer's men thought they were dead, so kept on driving.
Funny enough, Dobro didn't get hurt at all. No broken bones. Not a mark on his body. Scratch, well, he lost his right eye. Had to use a marble for a while until Uncle Homer took him to Tulsa, saw a doctor and bought him a glass eye. Uncle Homer wasn't as cold-blooded as people thought. He just didn't like his own blood to steal from him.
To everyone's amazement, the army took Scratch. The doctor didn't even examine the men sent to him. He just signed everyone's papers and sent them to boot camp. The sergeant questioned Scratch about getting past the doctor and Scratch didn't have an answer. After that, no one else even mentioned his eye or how he got in the army. Nearly a year went by when Joe Turner, who was in boot camp with Scratch, had the answer. Turned out the doctor went home and shot himself. By that time, Scratch was in Korea, defending the name of a mountain he couldn't pronounce.
* * *
The darkness didn't succumb to light for a long time. The torture continued, but there were long bouts of silence from his torturers. They kept asking him questions in a language he didn't understand. Scratch never talked. He did scream a lot and begged them to stop.
One day, light came. So did explosions and gunfire. People screamed. He heard the voices of women and children call out to their God as death came for them. Scratch heard American voices. There was a familiar smell of tainted clothing and the grease used to clean guns.
A hand pulled the scarf from Scratch's eyes. A square-jawed man with thin lips and tiny black eyes was facing him. He was a private, just like Scratch. Tommy Dilleo was his name, as Scratch later learned. They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Scratch looked past him to see about 20 American GIs standing in a hut, with what looked to be a family. Four women of varying ages, three little boys and one little girl. There was also an old man who might have been the grandfather and most likely Scratch's torturer. The awful smell Scratch kept smelling was boiled cabbage. A GI stirred the pot on a wood stove, raked green and white leaves with a spoon. He showed it to his buddy, who made a face.
“Anybody want some kimchi?” The GI bellowed. No takers. Some laughed, some cried out in disgust.
Tommy untied Scratch from
