You Can’t Go Home Again

The old ’42 Dodge truck growled along at a steady pace. Of course, it only had one gait once it got into high gear. If you tried to accelerate more, it only roared loudly, smoked a bit more, but hardly went any faster. The rain was coming down in torrents and showing flecks of snow in places as he left Fulton. By the time Luther got to Tupelo it was almost all snow and/or sleet.

The heater was minimal at best and the defroster was mostly non-existent. The weather was so frigid that the inside of the windshield was beginning to freeze as well as the outside. The windshield wipers were doing the best they could but with no heat, thus no melting, the ice was beginning to build on the glass.

A customer had called from Fulton late in the day, Christmas Eve, and said they were out of butane gas and could someone come fill their tank. Luther being the kind soul that he was, said he would go even amid the inclement weather. Leaving about quitting time he drove the fifty miles, filled the tank, made sure the heaters and appliances were all working properly, he then headed home. He wanted the folks to be warm for the holidays. His worn leather jacket shed most of the rain and snow, but was just a little on the thin side as far as keeping him warm enough. However, once inside the big truck, which got him out of the wind and rain, and the little help from the heater, he was all set to get back home again.

The snow and ice began to play havoc with his windshield as well as the road brought him concern. The truck was big and heavy with good tires and that kept him with sufficient traction on the road, but the freezing of the windshield was of major concern. Luther being a seasoned driver stopped at a little store in Bissell and purchased a large onion and a couple of candles. Lighting one of the candles, he warmed the inside of the windshield and wiped away the ice and frost that had gathered. He sliced the onion in half with his trusty pocket knife and smeared the cut face of the onion on the glass. The onion juice would retard the freezing on the windshield. Outside he used a scraper to remove the collected ice, heated the glass with the candle, then dried the glass and applied the onion to the outside of the glass. Putting the smelly onion back into the paper bag he then dropped a few spots of wax from the candle on the truck’s metal dash and stuck the butt end of the candle in it. He set the candle just far enough away to give heat to the glass but not close enough for it to break.

As he shifted gears; double low, low, second, then high; the big truck was back up to speed again. The rain had changed totally to snow now and although it did not splatter on the windshield, somehow it burst in all directions from a point just a few feet in front of the glass, almost like a fireworks explosion, and created a most disruptive white display. Between the onion juice and the heat from the candle, the visibility was much better now. This should hold him until he got home, for after all, it was Christmas Eve and he had to beat Santa to their home.

While at the store he happened to see a very realistic looking cap pistol with orange grips. He thought his little redheaded son might like that as a gift so he purchased it and slid it down in the sack with the onion and candles. He did not do much, if any, shopping for Christmas, usually just a gift of some kind for his wife, Helen. But this toy gun touched his Christmas spirit just at this particular time and he bought it, not knowing what other gifts his wife had already bought for their only son.

In that long stretch of bottom land in the Furr’s community the road was almost solid ice, but the big truck held well in the set of ruts made by the previous vehicles. From over the far hill a sedan sped. Down into the flat it came and in its rush, lost control, and skidded sideways but somehow managed to stay on the road bed. He was taking up most of the small two lane road and approaching the huge gas truck at an alarming rate of speed.

Luther sized up the situation very quickly and grabbed the large, non-powered, steering wheel and with all his strength turned the huge truck out of harm’s way. However, in so doing, he found himself slipping and sliding down into the road ditch filled with icy water. Just beyond was the Tallatoba Creek running full of that same half frozen water. Although not traveling very fast, the heavy truck had lots of momentum and it did not want to stop on the side of the road, nor in the road ditch. It plowed head long into the creek and came to rest nose down in the rushing water of the creek. Fortunately, there was no fire, no explosion, and no leaking gas. The heavy steel gas tank and fuel inside the tank, was heavy enough to crush the cab of the truck almost like an accordion. Luther was trapped beyond any measure of escape. The icy water began to fill the cabin almost immediately and the cold that Luther was experiencing was horrific.

Joe Butler was just returning from the barn when he heard the crash and saw the lights spinning around on the road at the bridge. He hollered for his two boys to come help as his trek carried him across the barn lot toward the scene. As he came by the wood pile he grabbed the double bit ax as he ran.

At the scene, an almost new ’46 Mercury sedan, sat sideways across the road but was otherwise unscathed. The two boys and two girls were still laughing and giggling in their alcohol induced stupor. They were oblivious to what had just transpired.

Turning to the truck Joe realized that the driver must still be in the truck and it as almost filled with water by now. Wedging the blade of the ax into the crack of the bent door, he prized enough to finally get the driver’s door open. There was Luther, almost submerged in water, unconscious, but alive. His head was barely out of the water, but it looked as if the water was about as high as it was going to get. David and Luke, his two nearly grown sons, showed up and the three of them tried to remove the driver from the cab, but the clutch and brake pedal along with some under dash wiring held his legs tight. With the murky water and no lights to speak of, try as they might, they could not release his legs from the truck.

“Luke, go harness Jim and Toby, hitch them to that big iron double tree we use at the pulling contests. David, you go over to Ike Weatherall’s and get that longest log chain of his. Both of you make haste; this man is freezing to death!”

“But Pa, the team can’t pull this big truck; the ground is so soft that they can’t get any footing. They’ll just flounder around and not move a peg.”

“Do as I say, they are the only chance this man has; now hurry!”

It seemed only a minute until David was back with a long log chain laid across his shoulders and dangling down his sides. Ike and his boy Billy were only a few steps behind him with a couple of blocks and tackles.

“We might get these block and tackles around a tree and help the mules out, in this slush their footing is not going to be very good, and that’s a hefty sized truck, no telling what she weighs.”

Luke came driving the two big mules pulling the big steel doubletree. Turning them around the group made good time in attaching the chain to the truck’s undercarriage and to the doubletree. Joe walked to the mules, first going and standing between them with an arm around each of their necks. He spoke to them, calling each by name with a soft, kind voice.

“Jim, Toby, we’ve got a big pull here, the ground is poor, but you can pull that old truck outta that ditch iffin’ ya want to, do it fer me.”

With that he walked to their rear, took the leather lines from Luke and eased the team up until the chain was taught. Ike and Bill had hooked both of the tackle lines to trees on the other side and had two men on the pulling line of each.

“NOW! JIM! TOBY! COME-UP! JIM! TOBY! HEEEEEYAAAAAAH! Joe shouted to the top of his voice.

With that he flapped each mule with the leather line and they dug in. They slipped, churned, and could not find traction for their feet, but they kept trying, pulling together just as they had been taught. The truck shook at the power but did not move out. After some slipping and sliding the mule’s feet found some tree roots growing through the mushy mud. The team hunkered down, their bellies now touching the water in the ditch, but they had found something to pull against. They slowly moved the truck about five feet and the guys on the block and tackles locked them so what they had gained would not slip away. Joe halted the mules and let them blow for a moment. David opened the truck door, now that it was out of the deeper water, and let the cab drain.

Still not out enough to rescue the driver, once again Joe called, JIM! TOBY! COME IN THAR! Once again they gave their best. Slowly, ever so slowly, the truck groaned as it eased out of the creek and up into the road ditch and partially onto the side of the roadbed. The block and tackles held it from sliding back into the creek.

“Luke, unhitch the mules and lead them down the road a way, but keep them here till we know for sure they won’t be needed again. When you do take them to the barn, feed them again, they’ve earned their keep tonight.”

Grabbing the ax, Ike looked inside and cut the many wires from under the dash that had encumbered the driver’s feet and legs. Slowly they removed Luther from the cab and stretched him out on several of the quilts Martha, Joe’s wife, had brought. She had brought two arm loads of coverings to keep the driver warm when they did get him out of the icy water. They quickly rolled him up as warmly as possible. In the meantime, Billy had run back to their house and brought their old farm pick-up down and they loaded Luther in the back and gently drove him to the Butler’s house.

Joe and Luke got the cold wet clothes off the driver and slipped a clean warm flannel shirt and a pair of overalls on him. Martha had made a pallet on the floor in front of the fireplace and had punched up the logs till they burned brightly.

A strong knock was heard at the front door and as Martha opened the door she recognized Dr. John Rayburn from Pontotoc. Millie, Ike’s wife, had gone up the road to the McCullar’s house and called the doctor on their phone as soon as she realized what had happened.

“I knew we would need the doctor for at least one, possibly more before the night was done,” said Millie.

Dr. John went about tending to the half frozen, injured man. Martha was in the kitchen doing what she did best, and that was to cook. She made some hot vittles, coffee, soup, and warm up a plate full of left over tea cakes. What the injured man would not, or could not eat, the kind doctor and her husband, boys and neighbors would.

Soon the doctor said the patient was coming around. He had a big ugly looking gash and knot on his head and his left arm was beginning to swell. As Dr. John was bandaging the forehead he asked David to go spilt a piece of stove wood up real thin and bring several pieces to use as a splint, it seemed the driver’s left arm was broken in two places. That would hold until he could get him to the hospital.

Soon, they had Luther sitting up in a chair beside the fireplace and Martha was spooning him some of her good hot homemade chicken soup. Dr. Rayburn was sitting at the table with Joe and the boys, drinking coffee and eating some of the tea cakes.

Since the McCullar’s were the only ones with a telephone nearby, Millie had also called the Sheriff about the wreck while she was there. Officers had been dispatched to take care of the drunks in the Mercury. The Sheriff had in turn called Helen, Luther’s wife, who would meet them at the hospital in town. He also called the Butane Gas Company and they sent a man out to check on the truck and shut off all the gas that might possibly escape.

After being thoroughly bandaged and warmed, Luther was carried to the doctor’s car in a straight chair by Joe, Luke, and David. The pair drove away in the cold dark night, bound for the hospital.

Luther awoke about mid morning in a hospital bed, Helen by his side and a nurse was taking his pulse and holding some pills for him to take. His head ached badly and his arm was inoperable. No longer were the homemade splints on his arm, in their place was a sparkling white plaster cast. He raised himself up with his good arm and was about to swing his feet off the bed to get up when the nurse planted her palm flat on his chest and pushed him back down.

“These will help ease the pain and also cause you to sleep, what you need now is lots of rest. Now lay there and don’t give me no trouble, you took quite a jolt last night; you’re very fortunate that your truck did not blow up and clear everything from Furr’s to Bissell. We could have had The Furr’s Grand Canyon there this morning if it had gone up. You just lie there quiet for a while and talk to your wife,” said the nurse in a no-nonsense voice.

Before Luther drifted off to sleep, their son Tommy came bursting in the room. After a period of hugs and kisses, Dr. John came by and checked on Luther then took Tommy down the hall to show him the baby that had been born last night and also the new x-ray machine the hospital had bought last week.

Luther started to cry, “Baby, I thought I was a goner last night. When the truck slid off the road and into that flooded creek I thought I would never come home again, never enjoy a Christmas again. I thought it was my fate to drown in that muddy frozen creek water, or, I would be blown to smithereens when the truck exploded. Some voice kept saying, ‘You’ll never be warm again, you’ll never get home again, you’ll never see Helen or Tommy again, you’ll never get home again.’ My head hurt so badly, and so did my arm, but the worst part was the icy water that surrounded me. I prayed Lord only you can get me out of this mess, help me please! I vaguely remember sounds from time to time, and I could feel the truck moving just a little, but I was fading in and out. There was no way of telling whether I was alive or dead or what was going on around me. I heard someone shouting ‘Jim, Toby,’ what that was all about I have no idea. The next thing I knew Martha Butler was feeding me some of her hot chicken soup and they had a roaring fire keeping me warm. Dr. Rayburn was there and he gave me a shot that knocked me out. When I woke up you and Tommy were here and the nurse was telling me to lie down and be still.”

“Hey dad,” Tommy burst through the door again spouting. “There is this tee-ninety little baby down the hall, born last night about the time you were in the creek, so says Dr. Rayburn, and, and, and, he has a machine that can take a picture of your innards right through your skin and it don’t even hurt, ain’t that sumpin’?”

“Are you feeling better Luther,” asks Dr. Rayburn?

“I’ll make it if I can keep that old truck out of the road ditches,” said Luther.

“Your quick response last night put you in harm’s way, but it saved the lives of four teenagers. They are sleeping off their liquor at the jail, but they are all alive and well, thanks to you. They may even get to be home with their families later on this Christmas Day if they can make bail. You, can go home in a day or two.”

“Doc, do you happen to know who Jim and Toby are? I kept hearing their names last night while I was drifting in and out of consciousness.”

“Those are Joe Butler’s two big black mules. How they ever managed to pull that truck of yours out of that muddy creek I’ll never know, but somehow they did. You might want to go by and say ‘Thank You’ to them, even give ‘em a big hug.”

Next day, Luther’s friend from the gas company came by to see him and left his banged up lunch box and a wrinkled sack that contained two halves of a large onion, a candle, and a shiny new orange handled cap pistol. After a few days, Luther got his sea legs back again and was released from the hospital. As his wife drove up to the hospital in their old Plymouth, Tommy was shooting all the bad men along the way with a brand new orange handled cap pistol from the back window. However, Luther told her that he couldn’t go home again, not just yet.

“Where in the world do you want to go?” asked Helen.

“Take me to that store in Bissell near where we had the wreck.”

Helen pulled the old black sedan up on the gravel drive in front of the store, Luther gave Tommy some money and asked him to go inside and get a bushel of their best apples.

“Honey what in the Sam Hill are we doing?”

“I can’t go home again, I just can’t; till I’ve see a couple of friends of mine by the name of Jim and Toby. They would probably enjoy an apple or two about now!”