My Crazy American War Buddy

Tobias 1834 April 17, 2046

My father and Mr.Grant stare at each other for a moment in sheer disbelief. They suddenly jump into an intense bear hug and stand silent for a moment before Mr.Grant speaks. “I thought you were dead,” he says.
“So did everyone else.” my father replies.

“But you- I saw your chopper go down. I saw it burning.”

“Yep, and I crawled out. Didn’t I always tell you I was built different?”My father says, and they both laugh a bit before letting go of one another. “What happened to you after that? Demont and I both pleaded with the higher-ups to send a search party, but they wouldn’t list- dear god, we need to tell Demont!” Mr.Grant says as he dashes to a phone on a table. “You’ll never believe my surprise when I found out he had been made an ambassador to Japan as well. I thought it was the wildest thing to happen during my time here, and then you show up,” he says, dialing the phone. “Demont, it’s Grant. Listen, you’ll never believe who just showed up at my door… No, it’s- well, I’ll let him tell you himself,” he says, handing the phone to my father. “Guess who, you old Parisian grease monkey?” he says in playful french. Even though I’m sitting across the room, I can faintly hear an excited string of obscenities ending with “I’m coming over right now, and I’m bringing the good Champagne.”

“I’m surprised they trust you with booze at all after what happened that one time with the flamingo,” my father says. He listens for a moment before saying, “Well, then hurry up and get here so you can put your money where your mouth is,” before hanging up the phone. At this point, a woman with blonde hair curled up at the ends enters the room with a teapot and cups. She looks at Mr. Grant and my father with a confused face. “Darling, what’s going on? I thought you said this man was here to discuss Author?” she says

“Oh Nora, You’ll never believe this. Do you remember the American doctor that was assigned to my post while I was in Africa? The one who was shot down in the helicopter? This is him. This is FivePelts!”Mr.Grant says

“Oh, so you did marry her.” My father says as he walks up to her.” Oscar’s told me so much about you. Let me take that,” he says as he takes the tray and sets it down on the coffee table. He then comes back and shakes her hand, all in one smooth motion. “Samson FivePelts, So good to finally meet you, Mrs.Grant. Oscar told me so much about you while we were in Africa together. Are you still doing oil painting?” he asks. Mrs.Grant looks at my father and seems a bit shocked by his straightforward attitude before speaking. “Oh uh, please call me Nora; that’s what the rest of Oscar’s friends call me. And yes, I am still oil painting. I’m surprised Oscar told you.”

“Well, how could I forget you sent him that lovely painting of the countryside.” My father replies

“You remember that postcard.” Mr.Grant says

“How could I forget it? I remember you’d used to just stare at it and mumble about how you were going to marry that woman.” my father says.

“What about you? How’s your wife doing? What was her name? Bethany? Brittney? Be-” my father cuts off Mr.Grant.

“Serena! My wife is Serana. I met her in Gaboon after the war. You must be thinking of someone else.” he says in a very stern, almost hostile voice. “You’ll have to come over and meet her and my little girl Yukie soon. I’ll finally be able to show you coney sauce like I always said I would,” the sternness of his voice vanishing as quickly as it appeared as if it had never been there. Mr.Grant seems to take note but barely reacts, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. While Mrs.Grant retains her shocked look for a moment before pouring tea for everyone. My father, who is generally unfond of tea, takes the cup without hesitation. Remarking about how Mr.Grant “Must’ve taught Nora how to make it southern style just for him.”

They keep talking with one another for a while before the ring of a doorbell can be heard. “Ahh, that must be Jaques.” Mr.Grant says as he and my father quickly stand to go meet him at the door. Leaving me alone with Grant-kun and his mother. She looks at me and almost seems surprised to see me sitting there as if she hadn’t noticed me before. “You must be Samson’s son. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” she says

“Tobias,” I say

“Well, Tobias, it’s nice to meet you. What classes do you have with Author?” she asks.

“Just advanced English,” I say

“Ahh, that makes sense. We’ve only been in Japan for a little over a year, so Author and I are still learning the language.” She says, turning to Grant-kun, “I do hope you won’t be causing any trouble for Tobias. Samson once saved your father’s life, and I expect you to show both him and the rest of his family the respect and gratitude they are due. Is that understood young man?”

“Yes, mum,” Grant-kun says, a hint of resentment visible in his eyes as he states at me.

The growing tension in the room is quickly cut when Mr.Grant, my father, and another tall man, whom I presume to be Jaques, enter laughing. My father quickly points at me and gestures for me to stand, saying, “Tobias. Tobias, come and meet the worst French mechanic I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Oh, I was the best mechanic on the whole base, and you know it,” he says

“That you were no wonder everything was always broken.” Mr.Grant says, causing all three to begin howling with laughter. When the Frenchman stops, he leans down a tad and takes my hand in both of his before shaking it and introducing himself.

“Jaques Demont, so good to meet the son of Samson,” he says with a gleeful smile.

“Demont? Does that mean you’re-” I’m cut off as he’s dragged back into the conversation by my father asking him about some woman who wrote to him during the war.

“That was my sister, and you know it.”

“Are you sure? I read the letter, and you could’ve fooled me.” my father says

“That’s because you don’t know French; you know Cajan.”Monsieur Demont replies.

The three go on laughing, joking, reminiscing about their time together. The other two keep asking questions about how my father ended up in Japan, which he continues to dodge. Listening intently, I pick up on a few details: my father had served in both the African and Asian fronts of WW III, meet Mr.Grant (a British radio officer) and Monsieur Demont (a French mechanic) during his time in Africa while the three were stationed at a joint base, the theater was relatively minor in the war, so they had a lot of downtime which they spent together talking about politics, the states of the war, and their mutual love of anime and manga, about halfway through the war after a devastating battle their base was set to be abandoned, my father’s chopper was shot down, and he was presumed dead, he managed to survive and make it back to allied lines, and then he was transferred to the Asian theater where he met Tetsu ojisan.

I also gather details of the other two. After the three were separated, Monsieur Demont and Mr.Grant tried to keep in touch but drifted apart after a while. Monsieur Demont went back to mainland France where he continued to work as a mechanic for the rest of the war. After the war, he furthered his education in Paris and met his wife, Marie. Before long, he worked his way up the ranks to become an ambassador. He was sent to Japan a few months ago and is still adjusting a bit.

In contrast, Mr.Grant was sent to the front lines in eastern Europe, where he refused an order to call in an airstrike on a civilian target because he believed the intel to be wrong. He turned out to be correct and was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II a mere month before her death. He’s been in Japan for more than a year, and both were equal parts delighted and surprised to see each other when they met in Japan for the first time.

Now all three sat together, overjoyed to be together again. The conversation went on for hours covering everything from current geopolitics, currently airing anime, and even how their music tastes had changed. One topic I found particularly interesting was the state of my grandparents’ farm. “Oh yes, your parent’s orchard. How is everything going there? Are they still making the delicious honey?”Monsieur Demont asked. My grandparents run a family orchard in Michigan that they inherited from one of my Abuela’s uncles. There they grew apples and made cider, but they had to shut down the cider during wartime rationing and instead switched to makIng honey.”Oh, I remember that, honey. It was always a good day when you got a new jar. Even that lousy batch where they mixed garlic into it was better than the swill they tried to pass off as honey.” Mr.Grant said

“Oh, they’re doing great. They loved all the feedback you and the rest of the base gave them. How did you two enjoy those liter jars I gave you just before the base was attacked?” my father said

“Oh, I lost mine with the base. Hope those wankers choked on it.” Mr.Grant says

“I managed to take mine back to France with me, and it made the toast almost edible. I still have a little bit of it left. I used to give it to Louise to put on his ice cream,” Monsieur Demont chuckles.

“So you are Demont-kun’s father,” I say, finally asking the question after waiting hours for an opening.

“Oh yes, have you meet him?” he asks.

“He’s in advanced French with me,” I respond.

“You’re boy is in three advanced language classes?” Mr.Grant asks

“Well, yes. He was raised speaking all three at home, so I had him test for all, and he surprised me by getting high enough scores on all.” My father praises. “More than that, he was the only one to throw a strike at the baseball tryouts yesterday.”

“It wasn’t that impressive,” I say, trying to downplay it.

“That’s rather impressive; Arthur here is in the running for the captain of the football team. He did quite well last year, so I expect he’ll get it.” Mr.Grant says

“Impressive, impressive Louise has already been selected for the fencing team,” Monsieur Demont boasts. They then set off to begin bragging about the achievements of their children. It’s at this point that I look back to Arthur, who had stopped glaring at me and was instead listening intently to his father's bragging. It’s like he’s never been praised, I think to myself. Mrs.Grant walks up, filling my teacup. “They sure have been at it for hours, haven’t they?” she says. I look at the clock on the wall. 2146 it reads, and I begin to feel the weight of the time we’ve spent. Didn’t we tell mother that we’d be right back? I think. “I think it’s about time I stop them. What about you?” she asks.

“We probably should. I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called to see if we died in a crash by now.” I say.

“I’m sure. Well, let me do that discreetly,” she says, giving me a wink. She walks over to the three still embroiled in their bragging circle and begins to refill teacups. “Arthur, isn’t it about time you went to bed?” she asks. This is enough for my father to take a look at his watch and his eyes widen in shock as he does so.

“Oh my, is it that late already. I need to call Serena. She’s probably worried something happened. Excuse me, gentlemen,” he says, walking from the room and dialing his phone. Monsieur Demont also stands, saying, “Well Oscar, it has been another wonderful night, but I should be going as well. Busy day tomorrow, you know.”

“Yes, of course, I should’ve been looking at the time, but I was just so excited to see Samson. It’s like he’s come back from the dead.” Mr.Grant says, turning to me and extending a hand. “And it was good to meet you, young man. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the near future.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I say, taking his hand and giving it as firm a handshake as I can.

“Make friends with this boy Author; you two will be seeing a lot of one another, so it’d be best if you did.” Mr.Grant says, looking at his son.

“Yes, father,” he responds.

“Good lad. Now off to bed with you.” Mr.Grant says before Grant-Kun leaves the room. My father comes back in, almost bumping into Grant-kun as he does so. “Tobias, come on, we have to go home before your mother has a cow.” he says, hurrying me out the door.” Oh, but before we leave,” he says, turning around. “We’ll have to talk later about our sons. It’d be a terrible waste if they didn’t get along well.”

“Oh, I agree entirely.” Mr.Grant says. “It’s in everyone’s best interests if they all get along.”

“Louise and Author seem to get along well enough, so I’m sure there will be no problem,” says Monsieur Demont.

“Excellent, then with that gentleman, I bid you goodnight.” Mr.Grant sees the rest of us out and waves while we get into our cars. Father and Monsieur Demont hug before splitting up. We get in and head home. There mom is sitting waiting for us. I hear my dad overcoming her displeasure with sheer glee as I slink off the bed.