A Most Difficult Day

The men shocked wheat until after six o’clock. Their grumbling about when they were going to eat dinner got pretty loud and some even stopped working without being told. Walt came around and told them to keep working ‘til seven o’clock; “weren’t nobody gonna starve to death.” Cursing ensued and Walt offered them a ride back to town in the morning. The complaining and swearing stopped. Every man who was there realized they needed to be grateful for the work and probably remembered their personal reasons for being out there in the middle of nowhere shocking wheat all day and into the evening. Charley and his crew never stopped. They were silent inspirations to each other.

When they did get back to the tents, Charley hopped out of the truck and looked around.

“The creek is down the hill over northwest of the tent, men, if ya wanna wash up!” shouted Walt. “Dinner will be here in ten minutes.”

Charley didn’t even speak to the other three; he grabbed his bag from the tent and headed down the hill. Hanging his clothes bag from a limb on an old walnut tree, he grabbed a clean shirt and pants out of it, along with the big bar of soap Lena had packed. Some clean BVDs, too. Hanging them on the branch, he then hiked the rest of the way down to the water. Removing only his work boots and socks, Charley jumped in the creek with his clothes on. The creek water wasn’t unbearably cold, and it was running pretty smooth and fast.

He took off his shirt and used it to soak and get soapy. Starting at his head and working down, he scrubbed hard and quick. Stripping his pants off in front of the other men wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be, because they were all doing the same thing. Some of them must’ve been in the Great War and bathed with other soldiers, ‘cause it sure didn’t bother them a bit. When he was all washed, Charley tied his shirt around his waist, retrieved his shoes and socks off the bank, and went back to the tree where his clean clothes were still hanging. He got dressed and wrung the water out of his soaked clothes, which were now clean. The plan was to hang them up in the tent to dry and wear them another day in the fields.

Charley guessed that would work; he’d wear the same clothes in the field every day and use these same clean clothes to eat and sleep in each night. He had more clean clothes in his bag but figured he might as well save them until he needed them. Lena had done a great job of packing.

As he rubbed his hand over his chin, Charley was hoping he might have time to shave; he was not a man who liked to have facial hair but doubted there would be time to shave before they rang the dinner bell. As dark as it was getting, there would probably not be enough light to shave by after dinner. The clean-cut farmer resigned himself to a scruffy, unshaven look for the next day. Lena would be disappointed if she saw him now but would understand. He would shave before he bathed tomorrow.

There was a stew for dinner…kind of a goulash with some noodles in it, and some delicious homemade rolls. The food needed a lot more salt, or something, but Charley realized his wife was not going to be cooking for him for a long time yet, so he’d better get used to eatin’ different tasting meals.

The four men had found cots next to each other in one corner of the huge tent. Some of the shockers went out to sit around a couple of campfires and drink some more coffee, but Charley decided, at his age, he had better go to bed. It was completely dark now, and morning would come soon enough. He needed to sleep. The two brothers wanted to hear some good stories, so they went to the campfires. Al agreed with Charley and headed to bed. There were other men, mostly older ones, who had enough sense to get to bed at a decent time, so soon the tent was a busily snoring place. The sun came up suddenly, it seemed.

When they awoke, the air was heavy and damp. It didn’t appear as if it had rained, but it was bound to. If it didn’t, Charley knew that the high humidity would make the shocking work today pretty much insufferable. And if it did decide to rain, the wheat work would continue, but the cut wheat would be heavy and the work would be harder on his back. Whatever developed though, he knew he would do what had to be done.

Al and the brothers were not complaining about the state of the weather, like many of the other men. Charley thought that most of them must not be farmers, because farmers know there is no use in complaining about the heat or the cold or anything else that Mother Nature delivered. Didn’t do no good, ever. Weather was what ya got whether ya liked it or not, and the smart man just learned to make the best of it. Charley said a silent prayer to let God know he was thankful for a job and for his friends. He said his “Amen,” and climbed up into the truck.

It did start to rain about ten o’clock that morning, but the rain was spotty and light. Then the hot sun came out again and the air became dreadfully steamy. Men removed their shirts and kept cutting, tying, bunching, stacking, leaning, walking. The sun beat down all during lunch, which was left-over goulash with bread and butter sandwiches. This time, instead of water, they brought big buckets of lemonade. That really surprised Charley, as fruit was quite a luxury item. Walt explained that a fruit truck from California had stopped in town and a whole crate of lemons was traded for a tire patch at the co-op. Walt’s brother just happened to be in there when it happened and bought the whole crate from the co-op for a dollar. The lemonade wasn’t cold, but it was refreshing. The blistering heat weighed all the men down. Every one of them was moving in slow-motion, even Walt; but the work had to be done.

They tramped, soaked with sweat and getting weaker in the knees, through the fields. The sky gradually got darker and the wind picked up. Out westward, Charley could see towering thunderheads of clouds that were coal black on the bottom.

“There’s gonna be a big storm, fellas,” he warned his immediate crew. The guy driving the tractor in front of them hollered back to them, something about if they saw any lightning, to let him know. That made Charley feel better, as he and Al exchanged knowing nods. They were glad that they were working for folks who weren’t so stupid as to stay out in an open field during a lightning storm. Al told the brothers that their plan in case of lightning was for the four of them to run for cover in the nearest side ditch of the road. Nebraska is just plain flat, so unfortunately, they were all out in the middle of a centered 160-acre plot, and the nearest ditch was a good third of a mile away. The brothers said they weren’t worried, having been good runners all their life. Charley and Al nodded at each other again, knowing the brothers would be having a bit of a boasting challenge as to which one of them got to the ditch first. They were right, ‘cause Henry and Mel immediately began making informal wagers with each other about the impending footrace to safety.

Charley kept as close an eye as he could on the horizon. One of his steers was killed by a lightning strike once and it was a frightening sight. Remembering the stench of the burned flesh, he knew sure as heck that he didn’t want to see that happen to a man, especially him! No bolts appeared anywhere around them, but the wind got stronger and stronger. The mid-afternoon air got more and more dark, but the clouds started turning a strange yellowish color, and then an ominous green. The clouds sank so close to the ground, it seemed like if they were over his farm, they would have touched the top of the windmill. It was hard to judge out here in this unfamiliar flat land. The wind swirled so hard now that it started to cool off a little, but the heaviness in the air remained.

Then the shout came. It was faint and came from the back of the pickup that was barreling across the field. Walt was driving and there was another guy standing in the back, hanging on to save his life! “Twister, look south, twister,” he yelled, over and over. “Twister, twister, run for cover!”

They all looked south and started running east to the ditch at the same time. Over his right shoulder, Charley could see it coming through the darkness. It was loud, and there was cut grain starting to fly off the ground and spin up into the sky. The twister was about a half-mile away, as far as he could judge. Henry and Mel were in front of him and Al was right next to him. Charley was running as fast as he could, but the rotating beast was getting closer.

Praying as he ran, Charley shouted to Al, “We ain’t gonna make it to the ditch, Al! I’m goin’ for under that tractor over there!” he hollered, pointing to a red Chamberlain with a scythe attached, that was about 100 yards from the road. They both adjusted their path, and as he and Al slid in between the big back wheels of the tractor, he saw the two brothers dive into the ditch. The twister was bearing down on them.

It wasn’t a direct hit, but darn close. Hail about the size of walnuts pelted the field; the rain poured down in sheets. The tractor shook and vibrated, literally inching along the ground, but never going airborne. Charley was still praying like crazy, but with one eye on the ditch. Them boys was probably gettin’ pelted with the hail and would have some bruises to show for it, for sure. He was trying to keep his head low and make sure the tires didn’t roll over his legs. That tractor stayed on the ground, but it had moved at least ten feet, as near as he could figure it. He scooted along on his belly, managing to keep up with it. The twister seemed to be just getting past them, when he remembered Al. He looked around and there he was, behind the rear end of the tractor. Al had ended up under the scythe.

“Charley, I been cut by the scythe! I been cut bad! Get me outta here!” Al hollered. “I’m a bleedin’ like a stuck pig!”

Charley scrambled out of where he was and crawled over to where Al was. Oh, it was bad alright. Really bad. The kind of bad that would last only minutes. He looked into Al’s eyes, and he saw that Al knew it, too.

Farmers learn things about anatomy without all that formal schooling. Between dressing deer, butchering livestock, and farming accidents, they know when there’s been a fatal blow struck. That slice the scythe blade had made into Al’s groin was fatal. Charley and Al both knew that there is a big blood vessel there that can’t be stopped with any amount of pressure, or a tourniquet, or anything. Al’s blood was pouring out onto that field at a rate that would only give him a few minutes left on earth.

“Don’t try to move me, Charley, just leave me here and pray with me.” Al looked at Charley with a look that showed he knew and had accepted his fate just that quick. The brothers were running back, and Charley waved them over, but hushed them before they got there.

“Al’s been cut and killed. Well, he ain’t dead yet, but Death is on his way to get him right soon. You two boys kneel down and pray with me right now. That’s what Al wants.”

Charley began The Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name.” The brothers joined in and all three prayed together, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil, for Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever and ever, Amen.”

He looked up, and again, his eyes met Al’s. “Pray, Charley, pray!” Al urged weakly. “Pray like a tent preacher, until I’m gone.”

“We’s doin’ the 23rd Psalm, boys. I know ya knows it!” Charley said, but began reciting it before he even saw the brothers nod. The three of them spoke it together for the dying man. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,”

Al let out a moan.

Charley prayed on, “for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.” Al groped around for Charley’s hand and put it in a vise-like grip. Charley looked up at the young men. Tears were streaming down their faces; faces twisted in horror at the dying man lying at their feet.

Charley finished by himself, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.”

There was a crimson pool of blood in the golden wheat under Al, and his spirit slipped away. Al had been wrong; he was not a lost soul. He’d lost his farm and his wife, but his soul was with the Lord. Charley shook his head, removed his cap, and removed Al’s cap, too. He placed it over Al’s face.

Out of nowhere, there was a crowd of the men around the tractor when Charley stood up. “Al’s done bled to death, fellas. The scythe cut a big blood vessel in his leg, and he’s gone. It was quick. Can somebody flag down Walt and the truck?”

The men rearranged themselves around the scythe so they could see what happened, while Charley sat back down on the ground, exhausted. The work that day had been hard enough with the heavy air and wet wheat; Al dying like that was unexpected and Charley didn’t know what to think, or what to do. Walt could figure that out.

Walt did come with the truck and two of the men pulled Al’s body from under the tractor. They gently wrapped him up, using the canvas curtain that had hung from the back of the transport truck. Walt said they would take Al into town and the preacher there would see that he got buried, what with him not really having a family that anyone knew about. It’s all they could do in times like these; all the men agreed. Charley and the brothers would have liked to have been there for the burial, but they knew it wasn’t possible.

“We prayed over him when he really needed it, boys, so we’ll jest have to let the preacher do his job,” Charley reassured them. They were so young and not used to death like Charley and the older men were. Charley wondered how much more of life, and death, those boys would see before they got back home to St. Paul.

The twister had missed the farmhouse and the workers’ tent. None of the farming equipment had been damaged, so the harvest would continue the next day. There were about three hours left to shock wheat when Al died, but Walt had all the men taken back to camp early. It had been an especially difficult day.