Chapter 15 fourteen gilbert

Pilot-cum-shoveler isn't an official title on the RAF Airmen's Job List, but I figured I'd been on it for so long that it should be.Age Restriction: None.Vision: Blurred.Feet: Frostbite.In countless bleak and cold railway stations in Lincolnshire, I shoveled more black rotten stones from hoppers to wagons than I could normally do.Soot!The gritty black grit soaked into my hair, chewing like God rubbed my head with sandpaper.Blowing out from the nose is all mud and sand.The dust, sand and stones penetrated through five layers of clothes, including the heavy coat, and scratched my naked body when I took off my clothes.A group of us complained to the commander, telling him that it felt like a punishment for refining coke like this.Someone said: Report sir, we're getting as black as Joseph.

It turned out that the commander calmed our movements with these words: The situation of our overseas brothers is much more difficult than what your Air Force unit has to endure.I bowed my head humbly as a drizzle of soot fell from my hairline.Two days later, I heard Joseph, you go to deal with the instructions of those Americans. It's a pleasant solo long-distance trip.The pretty chick waved, the old gentleman greeted me, and the legendary American enthusiasm greeted me at the finish line.Charlie.Denton assured me I was lucky.No problem, Gilbert.This job is still cool.He said he was happy and I was amused.

My mission was to drive to the American base near Grunsby and retrieve ten wooden crates containing buffers for Spitfires.It's a Spitfire, the commander emphasized, not a Mustang.Make sure they give it right this time.How our buffers got to a US base, and not an air base, is one of the mysteries of the war.Blaming each other like bullets on a battlefield.When the Americans refuse to ship us some weird parts, they're bloody Yankees, pompous bastards, aggressive chumps.No, they insisted that the RAF send someone to their base to confirm that the parts were correct before releasing them.This is not the first time this has happened, the last time was Charlie.Denton went, he spent the night there, and brought back a load of Chesterfields that would make him the go-to guy for weeks.The person who got this errand to deal with the US military is very lucky.

Report sir, he's a colored man. what is he He is a person of color. Ah shit, colored is it? Report sir, it's black. Hum, thank you, Sgt, I know what a colored person is.What trick are they playing?Fuck the Brits. The building I'm in, I guess took only a few minutes to build.The wall that separates me from the American officers is made of sheets about as thick as book covers glued together with chewing gum.Perhaps, if I had been standing in the same room as them, the conversation would have been slightly different, but I assure you the clarity of the sound would not have been the slightest difference.

Should I send him out? You said he was a person of color. However, he is British. British nationality!Who cares!British nationality is still troublesome.If I send a person of color to that unit, it's trouble.Fuck the Brits. Should I send him back? How dark is his skin tone? Report sir, full of depth. Ah, shit, that Brit commander is playing tricks on me.He also told me that we are an alliance, that although he is an air force, we have to help each other.alliance!Proud bastard Brit.He doesn't like me pointing out that his men are in the wrong place.He said it was our fault.He doesn't like me telling him what day of the week it is.

can we get a unit of color to represent No, no, not just because a pompous Brit sent a nigger, am I going to reorganize the whole American army?There are no doors.He sent that black person just to piss me off.Fuck the brit, I'm gonna call him, these niggers are no good, more than trouble. Report sir, what should I do about that black person driving? No idea, my problem now is what to tell this british jerk.Is the van too small or what?Maybe they only have the van.No, the documents are incomplete?This should work.Tell him to wait, or give him something to eat.They always want to eat. Tell the officer, take him to the cafeteria?

No, for God's sake, not in the cafeteria he's colored! If you were taught to be respectful and polite from a young age, your instincts will lead you to do strange things.I hurried across the room, peering through the barely-lit windows with feigned curiosity, so that the staff sergeant wouldn't suspect that I heard their conversation.Chest out, arms close to sides, am I saluting the American Sergeant? Take it easy, soldier.said the sergeant. Colored, black, nigger.In the first few minutes they used these words to describe me, every word is humiliating.The funny thing is, those slurs don't make me any more angry than being called a soldier!I'm not a soldier, I'm an Air Force soldier.I said Airman Joseph, and the sergeant said yes, yes, whatever.I stood in a relaxed position and he went on: Listen, soldiers, no airmen, we're not quite uh uh.

He struggled, and my instinct came back.How can I help this person out of the depths of pain?He seems like a shy guy.In peacetime, I think, he would have worked in a lingerie store and blushed when he saw busty women come in and choose what fit them. The sergeant finally said to me: You have to wait a while.Do you want to eat? Report sir, is it in the cafeteria? No no not in the cafeteria uh uh.I'll get someone to help you bring something out. An officer from another room came and called the sergeant out.The useless door closed behind them, and the officer said: Finch, send that colored guy back.I swear that bastard Brit Commander is laughing.He laughed so much!He said: Is there a problem?Just ten minutes in Alabama and he'll have a fucking problem.He knows I can't use fucking colored people here.He was just sent to piss me off.He thought he fucking won.He laughed so much.Thought he had tricked us.Yes, that's right, bastard.Tell that nigger to go.

Report sir, he was just about to eat something. Feed him, feed him.Do as you please.But unless you want to get in trouble, you can't eat in the cafeteria.Just get him out and have a soldier inspect the parts before shipping them over.I promise, this is the first and last time I'll let those fucking Brits take advantage of me. The sergeant came back to me, smiling.Airmen, they bring you something to eat, and then you can go back to base. As far as I know, I haven't confirmed, signed or shipped any wooden boxes with Spitfire buffers and this guy is telling me my job is done.Report sir, my mission is to get some parts.

Yes, it is no longer necessary. Report sir, sorry, I don't understand. Listen, soldier, it's taken care of.Just go back, it's fine. How can I explain that I didn't bring those parts back? At this moment, the sergeant's face began to flush, but the officer in the other room called: "Sergeant, bring him in." The officer put his feet up on the table, younger than his voice, smiling calmly at me.His big white teeth stood at attention, each one working to give me a break.He swung his feet to the ground, knocked out a cigarette, and leaned forward seriously.Then, reclining back in his chair, he stretched out his arms and said: What can I say?I just explained to your commanding officer that we have several trucks headed to you, so we loaded up the parts.Save you the trouble of shipping, we checked the parts too.Let me tell you commanders, whoever is at fault, we are allies anyway, the most important thing is to put the parts in the right place, everything is fair.Parts should arrive today.Either today or tomorrow.This trip was in vain.There's nothing to load here, but the sergeant over here told me he'll take good care of you.American enthusiasm, right?He showed a few more teeth to reassure me, and said: Come on down, soldier.

I heard everything the officer said to the sergeant, but when the shy sergeant brought me the food as if I were a dignitary, I started to appreciate the situation. Are you practicing at Fei Li's pace?Skills training in Blackpool?Or has my service at Lincolnshire AFB made me forget?Maybe it was my teammates Charlie, Billy, Raymond, Arnold, all of them white.Or the white women on the board: Ani, Rose, another woman with wandering eyes?Could it be the beautiful Anne from Swan Island?Or am I just too used to the UK to care?If a person of color finds himself on a US military base surrounded by white people, well, my God!He must be in the wrong place.How could I forget?I pledge allegiance to my country's flag, but you're never going to catch a disrespectful white guy going to war with a black guy.No, it's not the superiority theory, it's Jim.Crow law. A colored man runs into a white man's shop.Let me describe the scene: Everyone was stunned, like a child watching a movie for the first time, their big eyes blinked and blinked at each other, and paper, pens, tools, anything that was tightly held in their hands fell to the ground with a rattling sound .Hands firmly crossed on his angry chest: Nigga, what are you doing here?This is not your place. I said: hello, the RAF sent me to find parts for our plane. Good boy, lucky to finish talking before they kick me out.How can niggers work with white kids in America?Watch them run to the commander for a reasonable explanation, even the fear of rank can't stop them!British or not, they told the commanding officer, they would not, would never, work with niggers.I can't get Chesterfields anymore.What story should I tell back?The day a mild-mannered Jamaican caused a riot in the U.S. military? An hour later and I won't see both of them.The blurred silhouettes of the two black American soldiers were about to fade into the blackout darkness.I see companions.Alone, and feeling a little nauseous I'm gorging on delicious food at the US military base, and my stomach is starting to churn.Roast beef, fried potatoes.There was so much bread that even five thousand people in the Bible could feed their families with their families, and the whipped cream, peanut butter, and endless coffee poured down their throats like sea water hitting the shore.Is it greed or politeness that keeps me from wasting even a bite?Maybe it was the distressed look on the sergeant's face when he kept checking on my situation.He said to me: Soldier, you can leave after eating.Said it twice.Both times I couldn't answer him because my mouth was stuffed with peanut butter bread as solid as a plastered fence. However, the long journey under the blackout is not to be enjoyed alone, but to be shared with others.Who is more surprised?me?or them?It was the first time I had seen a person of colour, after the West Indians had been dispersed for their duties, and there was a heart-to-heart slap on the back at Blackpool.As luck would have it, they met a black man with an empty van who went down the same road as them.They jumped into the car, and the two of them examined me carefully, as if they had witnessed a vision of the Virgin Mary. One of them finally asked: Are you British? I said: yes. I hope I don't offend you if I say I don't see you as British.You must be as rare as the rays in the cave. I'm from Jamaica. Jamaica, in the UK? Has no one outside the Caribbean heard of Jamaica?While I should have yelled in pain, I didn't.I told them no, Jamaica is in the Caribbean, but that didn't help their confused looks.I try to explain: what about the West Indies? Well, even if you're from Twinkle Twinkle Star, I'm still glad to meet you.My name is Isaac.Hunter, but unless someone is angry or yelling, no one calls me that.They call me Lebby when they smile, don't ask why, unless you're up for a long story.This is Qiang, the baptized name is Qiang, the nickname is also Qiang, and he will be Qiang all his life.Both of us were born and raised in Florida, USA, but Florida is the reason we met, not the way we met, so you can understand me.And this soldier, it's an honor to talk to you, may I ask your name? I said to him: First of all, let me make it clear that I am not a soldier.I am a volunteer in the Royal Air Force.Royal Air Force. Be a pilot. Maybe, my name is Airman Gilbert.Joseph. Nice to meet you, Airman Gilbert.Joseph.May I ask, what do your friends usually call you?I said Gilbert, and he said: Well, Joseph, I hope you don't mind me calling you that. During the conversation, the man named Qiang sat like a hollow puppet, staring straight ahead.Lebby elbowed him and he came back to life.The two reached out to shake my hand.It's rude to keep them waiting, but I'm concentrating on driving.In the dark, you must not believe your eyes, because your heart believes that this half-lit world is a dream.Especially on a country road, and the lights are restricted, artificial lights are not allowed to be used to illuminate my journey.Is that a strong man in a black coat or a collapsing wall?You see there is a ghost over there, is it just a tree?Did a rabbit run past, or did I just blink?There was silence all around, waiting for this handshake ceremony to be completed before continuing the conversation.Once I returned to the familiar straight road, I relaxed again and responded to their patiently waiting hands in turn.After the ritual was done, Lebby started talking again, which made me wonder if company was really a good thing? He said: "This is the first time in many months that I have been away from base on vacation. Of course, I had to explain that I didn't know at the time that Lebby was just getting started. Three months, should be right.But Qiang might say it wasn't three months, because he has a small notebook.I thought I remembered how much was written in it, but I really forgot.But, Jo, all I know is that I've wanted to see well-dressed English women for a long time. No, you just mispronounced my name, my name is Joseph Don't worry about it, Joe, he doesn't like long, smelly stories, and his mind is too busy thinking about things.However, when he really speaks, all the waiting is worth it, but I don't know if he will talk to you.He smiled, Qiang still stared straight ahead, perhaps smiling, unable to see clearly in the dim light.This is what I said to Qiang, leave the base.The army is as changeable as the summer breeze. One moment they get a permit, and the next moment their vacations are all cancelled.If the donkey can't hear it, it's not disobedience.To tell you the truth, Joe, we've got permission, and we've got two beauties waiting for us.Lincolnshire girl.I think you are going in the right direction.I have to admit, I had to rub my eyes at your presence, people of color in British uniforms!You said you were British, right? Yes, British nationality.I answer. But not British? No, I'm from Jamaica, but England is my home country. Is it because of the dim light, or did their confused faces turn into two question marks? Joe, I don't quite understand what you're saying.Jamaica is in the UK, then who was your grandmother?Lebby asked. No, Jamaica is not in the UK, but it is part of the British Empire. You say, the British Empire, where is that, Joe? There are many countries that belonged to the British Empire. And you said your grandmother lived in one of those countries? No, Britain is the motherland of Jamaica, and we are all part of the Empire. oh.They both nodded, unable to understand what I said.The empire you are talking about is not the place where movies are shown in London, is it? I tried to explain: the British own the island of Jamaica, Jamaica is in the Caribbean, and we Jamaicans are British citizens because we are British subjects. No one answered. Jamaica is a colony, England is our motherland, we are British but we live in Jamaica. Well, Joe, I think I get it.Jamaica is an island in the Caribbean Sea.Qiang nodded, turning to his friend thoughtfully.They understand.So, Lebby goes on, the British let the black folks all live on one island.You are an outcast like us. Yes, I think I am. So you are not from America? No, I'm British. Yes, sir, British, and your grandmother too?He muttered, his hesitant tone made me wonder if what I said really went into his head, or if it was just spinning around the head, looking for a solid place to land. so what are you doing here?Lebby asked. I volunteered to join the army, to serve like a dog, to come here to help my country.God, I sound so conceited.I know I sound pompous.Whenever these words come out of my mouth, I always want to take them back, but I have heard and answered this question too many times.What?Do you think I got lost on the way back from the sugar cane fields? Look, Joe, I don't think you get my point.What I want to ask is: Are you from a US military base?what are you doing there I've been tasked with recovering items lost in transit. Recovered from that base?Someone sent you to that base? That's right. Lebby paused for a moment, then frowned like a wise man finally finding himself talking to a fool.Look, Jo, I know you're English, and I understand that English people don't do things the same way, but I'm like a thief before a judge, careful with my words.But, Joe, I'm sure you know you're black.And black people are like street rats on that base. I want to say: just look at my empty truck.Do you see any parts, bro? You should come to us, we are near a place called Immingham. But the parts are at that base.I interrupted. Look, Joe, I don't know if you knew what I'm telling you now, but it seems to me that you've been played.Did you know that the US military is very strict about segregating black people. My commander got it wrong.I said. Well, you might be right, Joe, you might be right, too.But in my opinion, someone must be behind the scenes. Driving in unreliable terrain, I didn't have time to wonder who was doing what. So, shall I drive you to Lincoln?I asked on purpose. No, we're not going to Lincoln, but thank you for your kindness, just drop us off before we get there. Brenda and Paige told us they were born and raised in Lincolnshire.But Nattingham is where we agreed to meet. I wouldn't drive as far as Nattingham. It's okay, Joe. I asked: Natingham, why go to Natingham? Nadineham is where we're headed, our Lincoln Day isn't here yet. Our Lincoln Day.These words are so simple, I thought I understood them.Not their Lincoln day.It is so natural to say that only the lack of intelligence can not understand.But an eerie silence hung in the car, between us, allowing the words to spread.And then all I could think of was, in the name of God, what the hell does it mean that our Lincoln Day is not here yet!So I asked. Lincolnshire, said Lebbie, it's Wednesday, and Lincolnshire is a white man's place.Until next week only white American troops could go to Lincolnshire.And by the time Lincolnshire gets colored people in, Jon and I don't have a pass for next week, so we're going to Nattingham to meet Brenda and Paige now.Because Nattingham is black, no white people will go to Natingham for holiday unless they want to ask for trouble.If they were looking for trouble, they would definitely not be able to eat and walk around, because Natingham was an exclusive area for black US troops.But Qiang and I don't want to cause trouble, we just want to have a good time with our girlfriend.Dance a little, eat a little, and go with the flow, you know what I say, Joe. But Nattingham is far away. Look, yes, but if we get to Lincolnshire, we'll be niggers in the wrong place.Niggers in the wrong place are always on the lookout, and there are white men and military police everywhere waiting to jump on our big shoulders.No, we don't want to make trouble, me and Qiang just want to have fun, I know you Brits have a different way of doing things, but the US military has everything planned. Don't your Brendas and Paiges mind running this far? They both smiled.Look, they can stay in Lincolnshire.Qiang and I wouldn't be so stupid as to think that if we weren't there to protect them, they wouldn't have any white kids to tangle with.But we young people of color know we have to do what we want and I'm not just dancing, if you get the point.Only our money is the same as the boy's money, but they still run around just to have fun with us. You mean, I asked, you went all the way to Nadineham just to keep out of the white American army? Like I said, the military had it planned that Nattingham was black. I didn't ask him if the good folk of Nattingham knew their town was black, or if the quiet Lincolnshire folk knew their town was open to whites only.This is ridiculous!Instead of asking him that, I asked: Do you mind if they treat you like this? What do you mean by that, Joe? unfair treatment. How to say? be quarantined. Joe, I know you Brits have a different way of doing things, but here we are, that's the way it is Suddenly, the puppet master woke up.Qiang squirmed in his seat and parted his lips.It opened slightly at first, then grew wider, and the deep voice was as deep as the roots of a mahogany tree.He said slowly: But when we get home, things will have to change. At this point Lebby turned to his friend and responded: Strong, maybe it will change, maybe it won't.Then he continued: You Brits are different, you see things differently.Take Qiang, as long as it has nothing to do with women, he doesn't mind if I speak for him.He had never spoken to a white man before he came here.He knew a lot of white guys who just ordered him to take out the trash and sweep the yard, but that wasn't conversation.I'll try to keep it short.Jo, me and Qiang and some other lads accepted an invitation from an English lady to have tea at her house.Not coffee, but tea, always tea.Pouring tea to mules is what I think of tea, but I wouldn't say the same about this white lady who kindly invited Negroes to her house.Listen, she lives in a house as luxurious as a cathedral.The glazed glass, the imposing wooden doors, the room is so spacious that it takes you a long time to finish talking before your voice completes its circle.As we sat in stately chairs at her house, the lady asked us one by one what we thought of Britain.Most people just say something nice, yeah, that's fine, thanks ma'am.Only Earl thought for a moment and said something to complain about, because that was his nature.He said it was a little too cold, but the lady just laughed, so we all laughed along.Then she turned to Qiang and asked him where his hometown was.At the same time she was asking Qiang this simple question, a beautiful young Caucasian maid was about to pour tea into a small cup on a small saucer that Qiang was holding.Jon was terrified of making the white lady wait for him to answer, and the teacup began to shake on the saucer, as if the floor was shaking behind him.After a while of jingling and rattling, the hot tea overflowed.The lady pretended not to see anything, and we could only stand by and watch.The result was that the white maid leaned over to Qiang, took his hand holding the small cup and saucer, and held the cup and saucer with both hands until his hands stabilized.Qiang looked up at her gratefully and smiled, and she smiled back.The lady must have noticed, and she said thank you for coming, and took the tea away from us as quickly as a vendor closing a stall.We stood outside the house watching the gates close without even a drop of the damn tea touching our lips.But we were invited. A white woman didn't know where we were from, but she invited us black soldiers to her house, sat with her on her sofa, and drank tea with her.Joe, do you have anything to do with white people here? Yes, I share a bunk with seven white guys. If silence can speak, it is now.Lebby stopped breathing, and Qiang came back to life again, convulsing in pain in his seat, rubbing one hand first to the back of his neck, then slowly stroking down his face.He looked at me carefully as if he saw me for the first time, and asked: How can you sleep in the same room as them? I asked him: what do you mean?But they both stared at me silently, convinced that I was the strangest apparition they had ever seen. As we got closer to Lincolnshire, Lebbie told me: It's all right around here, Jo.They assured me they were in a hurry to get on the train and asked to get off at a place that seemed to me to be safe. It's nice to have you there, Joe, and we do want to thank you for giving us a lift, but we don't want to offend you. I just happened to drop by, so you're welcome. So, are you sure that's enough?You are very kind indeed.I can assure you that when our fellow countrymen back home ask us to tell the story of our encounter with a black man in England, Qiang and I will ask them to send us a pile of chicken first.British Empire I will remember.And those fellow Negroes who live on the islands in the sea.The two shook hands with me before getting out of the car. Nice to meet you, Joe.Lebby said, speak for the other. I started the engine and found a six-pack of Chesterfields on the seat they had left.They waved goodbye to me, turned up their coat collars, and disappeared along a long gray and lonely road.