The slate roof of the Chi Psi Omega house was blazing hot, especially in the late May, midday sun.
Simp was perched on the uppermost field of the roof system, peering carefully over the ridge at the yard of the house across the street. He heard a grunt from behind and below him.
“What the hell’s taking you so long, Dee?” he whispered loudly. He quickly glanced over his right shoulder and saw Dee hauling a huge trashcan slowly up the roof.
“Might as well be a can of bowling balls,” said Dee. “Heavier’n hell!!” None of them had thought that a trashcan full of water balloons (over fifty per, by a slack count) would be that heavy.
“Just get ’em up here!” bellowed Simp. “We’re runnin’ out of time.”
He looked back at the scene down in front of him. It was the front yard of another fraternity house, and its members were congregated in the front yard. They were having a good old time: barbecuing, lounging on couches, and throwing horseshoes. They all were continually coming and going from the keg to fill their ever-loving cups with cold beer from the tap. Must’ve been over twenty fellas down there by Simp’s count.
“Why don’t you hold yer dang horses?!” said Joe. “We’s gettin’ there as fast as we can!” The sweat was pouring down his face and the area of the saddlebags on his shirt was increasing with every tug of his can. He, too, was toting a trashcan full of water balloons.
Finally, Chet was pulling up the rear. He also was dragging a can of water balloons. “We’re almost there!”
A few minutes later, all four of them were perched at the roof’s ridge. It could be said that the “brothers” across the street, laughing the day away, were like fish in a barrel. And these four guys knew it. They looked at each other and could barely keeping from dying laughing.
“Ha!” laughed Joe. “This is too good to be true!”
Some time earlier in the day, they had put together a system of 2 x 4 pieces of lumber that could hold and sustain the weight of the trash cans as they lay sideways on the roof. The cans were lying down side by side just a short distance from one another.
“So what’s the plan, Sarge?” they asked Simp.
“Well,” he started. “We got three cans and about one hundred and fifty water balloons. If they are as hot as we are, they’re in for a real treat.”
The three to his right agreed. “Heh!” “Mm hmm!” All four four grinned ear to ear and could not wait to start.
Simp continued. “I say we spend one can lobbing bombs at a rapid-fire rate. All four of us. The right trajectory and timing should take about two minutes. But it has to be fast, so’s they don’t know what hit ’em. ‘Cause things are going to heat up after that.”
“I got those jokers on the couch,” muttered Dee.
“Once they are good and soaked,” said Simp, “and realize what hit ’em, they’ll be madder’n hornets and will coming flying across the street to take us on.” He looked down and took in the impending carnage one last time. “And that’s when, my boys, we switch from lobs to high-velocity pitches of these babies,” he said, referring to what would be the last of the balloons in the two remaining cans. “Channel your inner Bob Feller and nail the hell out of them as they run towards our house!”
He looked at his watch. It was 3:58 and launch time was 4:00.
“Once we’ve thrown the last of the them, skedaddle down to the side of the house to the roof there. Buddy will meet us with his pickup truck and we will jump in the bed of the truck and take off. That’s our only way to escape.”
“By the way, Chet. I hope you remembered to lock all the doors!!!” said Simp.
“Yessir!” said Chet.
“OK. On my count, start throwing. 3-2-1 GO!”
Each of them reached behind them, grabbed a balloon, and let it fly in rapid succession. Literally every two to three seconds a balloon landed on their targets. Sometimes right on them and if not, right by them. Once the goons across the street got over the shock and awe of the situation, realized what was going on, and spotted the instigators, they started rushing across the street.
“One down, two to go,” said Simp.
Now the four of them checked and regained their foothold and stood up, for there was no secret to their nest of fire’s location anymore.
They hurled the balloons in those two cans faster than you can say “Jackie Robinson” and emptied them in about five minutes.
All that could be heard below was the yelling, screaming, and banging on doors.
“Let’s get the hell outta here!!! NOW!!!” yelled Simp.
They each scrambled and practically slid down the roof to the second floor. Sprinting to the side of the house, they saw Buddy in his pickup truck behind the wheel. He momentarily glanced, anxiously, at his rearview mirrors, all the while huffing furiously on a Camel non-filter cigarette. “Hurry it up!!!” he screamed.
One after the other, they each made the leap into the bed of the truck and took off. By the time Buddy peeled around the corner of the yard, burning rubber all the way, all the water-soaked buffoons from across the street could do was yell and wave their arms angrily. The last of them, running to catch up to the truck, gradually slowed to a stop and gave up.
“Take that, you yellow-bellied sapsuckers!!!” screamed Joe.
“YAHOOOOO!!!”
As he entered town, Buddy let up on the accelerator, down-shifting from third to second on his truck’s “three-on-the-tree” gear system. “That was damn close!” he thought. Sticking his arm out of the window, he backhanded a bag of a few cold beers into the back of the truck to the riders. He turned the corner on Maple and pulled up to the municipal building. “Alright then, fellas! That was mighty close but you pulled it off. Anything else ya need, holler.”
The four guys simultaneously answered in utmost gratitude and waved goodbye.
They walked up the steps to the building and, following the signs in the hallway, found the meeting they had come to attend.
“Well, I guess it’s time we got started,” said the officiant. “Welcome to the 1947 Veterans of Foreign Wars annual meeting. I’d like to start by welcoming our newest members and ask that they stand and give us their names, their hometown, and briefly tell us where they served.”
About a dozen men stood up.
“I’ll go first,” said Simp. “I’m Simp Simpson from Key West, Florida. Artillery in Pacific theater, mostly Philippines. Then bombardier, over Japan.”
“My name’s Dee Benson. I’m from Huntsville, Alabama. Pacific theater, US Marine Corps, infantry.”
“I reckon now I’ll go,” said Joe. ” I’m Joe Hammond from Virginia. Did my time in Europe. The Bulge and all around. US Army, infantry.”
The last to go was Chet. “I’m Chet Smith and I’m from Minneapolis. US Army, infantry. Was in Europe and then they sent me to the Phillipines. Took me a while to get used to that heat over there!”
The audience chuckled.
The rest of the new members took their turns introducing themselves and then sat down.
“Thank you, men! We are glad to have you here!”
All in the room now applauded.
“Now I have to ask you,” continued the president of the organization. “How have things been going stateside since The War? You know we are here to support you in any way!”
Simp stood up. “Well thank you, sir! We are appreciative of the VFW and look forward to being active members.”
He looked to his right at Dee, Joe, and Chet and then back to the podium.
“We are doing about as well as can be expected, sir. Meanwhile, I reckon we will find one way or another to carry on. Thankya!”
Note: Dedicated to and in recognition, appreciation, and honor of my father (stationed in the Philippines during World War II with the U.S. Army Signal Corp), and his brother (my uncle, also stationed in the Philippines with the U.S Army Air Corp), who both continued pursuing their college degrees on the G.I. Bill after the War. Thank you to all veterans and current members of the U.S military who have served and are serving our great country.
Veterans Day: a day of memorial as well. Sincere gratitude to those brave souls who paid the ultimate sacrifice and never got to fulfill a dream of coming home again for some fun.