The Return of a Private

Announcer:  And now,the weekly Special English program of AMERICAN STORIES.

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Our story today is called,"The Return of a Private. " It was written by Hamlin Garland. Here isHarry Monroe with our story.

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Narrator: The soldierscheered as the train crossed the border into the state ofWisconsin. It had been a long trip from thesouth back to their homes in the north.

One of the men had a largered scar across his forehead. Another had an injured leg that made it painfulfor him to walk. The third had unnaturally large and bright eyes, because hehad been sick with malaria.

The three soldiers spreadtheir blankets on the train seats and tried to sleep. It was a cold eveningeven though it was summertime. Private Smith, the soldier with the fever, shiveredin the night air.

His joy in coming home wasmixed with fear and worry. He knew he was sick and weak. How could he take careof his family? Where would he find the strength to do the heavy work allfarmers have to do? He had given three years of his life to his country. Andnow he had very little money and strength left for his family.

Morning came slowly with apale yellow light. The train was slowing down as it came into the town ofLa Crossewhere the threesoldiers would get off the train. The station was empty because it was Sunday."I'll get home in time for dinner," Smith thought. "She usuallyhas dinner about one o'clock on Sunday afternoon,” and he smiled.

Smith and the other twosoldiers jumped off the train together. "Well, boys," Smith began,"here's where we say good-bye. We've marched together for many miles. Now,I suppose, we are done." The three men found it hard to look at eachother.

"We ought to go homewith you," one of the soldiers said to Smith. "You'll never be ableto walk all those miles with that heavy pack on your back."

"Oh, I'm allright," Smith said, putting on his army cap. "Every step takes mecloser to home."

They all shook hands."Good-bye!" "Good luck!" "Same to you!""Good-bye!"

Smith turned and walked awayquickly. After a few minutes, he turned again and waved his cap. His twofriends did the same. Then they marched away with their long steady soldier'sstep. Smith walked for a while thinking of his friends. He remembered the manydays they had been together during the war.

He thought of his friend,Billy Tripp, too. Poor Billy! A bullet came out of the sky one day and tore agreat hole in Billy's chest.

Smith knew he would have totell the sad story to Billy's mother and young wife. But there was little totell. The sound of a bullet cutting through the air. Billy crying out, thenfalling with his face in the dirt.

The fighting he had donesince then had not made him forget the horror of that moment when Billy died.

Soon, the fields and housesbecame familiar. Smith knew he was close to home. The sun was burning hot as hebegan climbing the last hill. Finally, he reached the top and looked down athis farm in the beautiful valley. He was almost home.

Misses Smith was alone onthe farm with her three children. Mary was nine years old. Tommy was six andlittle Teddy had just turned four.

Misses Smith had beendreaming about her husband, when the chickens awakened her that Sunday morning.She got out of bed, got dressed and went out to feed the chickens. Then she sawthe broken fence near the chicken house. She had tried to fix it again andagain. Misses Smith sat down and cried.

The farmer who had promisedto take care of the farm while her husband was away had been lazy anddishonest. The first year he shared the wheat with Misses Smith. But the nextyear, he took almost all of it for himself. She had sent him away. Now, thefields were full of wheat. But there was no man on the farm to cut it down andsell it.

Six weeks before, herhusband told her in a letter that he would be coming home soon. Other soldierswere returning home, but her husband had not come. Every day, she watched theroad leading down the hill.

This Sunday morning shecould no longer stand being alone. She jumped up, ran into the house and quicklydressed the children. She carefully locked the door and started walking downthe road to the farmhouse of her neighbor, Misses Gray.

Mary Gray was a widow with alarge family of strong sons and pretty daughters. She was poor. But she neversaid 'no' to a hungry person who came to her farm and asked for food. Sheworked hard, laughed often and was always in a cheerful mood.

When she saw Misses Smithand the children coming down the road, Misses Gray went out to meet them."Please come right in, Misses Smith. We were just getting ready to havedinner."

Misses Smith went into thenoisy house. Misses Gray's children were laughing and talking all at the sametime. Soon she was laughing and singing with the rest of them.

The long table in thekitchen was piled with food. There were potatoes, fresh corn, apple pies, hotbread, sweet pickles, bread and butter and honey. They all ate until they couldeat no more. Then the men and children left the table. The women stayed todrink their tea.

"Mamma," said oneof Misses Gray's daughters. “Please read our fortunes in the tea leaves! Tellus about our futures!"

Misses Gray picked up herdaughter's cup and stirred it first to the left, then to the right. Then shelooked into it with a serious expression. "I see a handsome man with a redbeard in your future," she said. Her daughter screamed with laughter.

Misses Smith trembled withexcitement when it was her turn. "Somebody is coming home to you,"Misses Gray said slowly. "He's carrying a rifle on his back and he'salmost there."

Misses Smith felt as if shecould hardly breathe. "And there he is!" Misses Gray cried, pointingto the road. They all rushed to the door to look.

A man in a blue coat, with agun on his back, was walking down the road toward the Smith farm. His face washidden by a large pack on his back.

Laughing and crying, MissesSmith grabbed her hat and her children and ran out of the house. She hurrieddown the road after him, calling his name and pulling her children along withher. But the soldier was too far away for her voice to reach him.

When she got back to theirfarm, she saw the man standing by the fence. He was looking at the little houseand the field of yellow wheat. The sun was almost touching the hills in thewest. The cowbells rang softly as the animals moved toward the barn.

"How peaceful it allis," Private Smith thought. "How far away from the battles, thehospitals, the wounded and the dead. My little farm inWisconsin. How could I have left it forthose years of killing and suffering?”

Trembling and weak withemotion, Misses Smith hurried up to her husband. Her feet made no sound on thegrass, but he turned suddenly to face her. For the rest of his life, he wouldnever forget her face at that moment.

"Emma!" he cried.

The children stood backwatching their mother kissing this strange man. He saw them, and kneeling downhe pulled from his pack three huge, red apples. In a moment, all three childrenwere in their father's arms. Together, the family entered the little unpainted farmhouse.

Later that evening, aftersupper, Smith and his wife went outside. The moon was bright, above the easternhills. Sweet, peaceful stars filled the sky as the night birds sang softly, andtiny insects buzzed in the soft air.

His farm needed work. Hischildren needed clothing. He was no longer young and strong. But he began toplan for next year. With the same courage he had faced the war, Private Smithfaced his difficult future.

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Announcer: You have justheard the story, "The Return of a Private." It was written by HamlinGarland, and adapted for Special English by Dona de Sanctis. Your narrator wasHarry Monroe.

The of America invitesyou to listen again next week at this same time to another AMERICAN STORY. Thisis Susan Clark.

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