I Only Cry When a Lion Bites Me
A saga of life and death and everything in between
by
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To quote a world renown English writer of more than a century ago, "It was the best of times. It was the worst of times." It was the worst because Europe, after three years of war was exhausted, hungry, and pretty much in ruins. It was the best of times because after a devastating sneak attack on Pearl Harbor America was beginning to regain its momentum from 18 months of a severe drubbing in the Pacific. For Nicco a new adventure was about to begin. He was living the last moments of a 10 day boot camp leave. His sea bag had been loaded with all his stuff and his ditty bag which held his personal items including tooth brush and shaving gear was still open on the bathroom sink waiting to be to be pulled together. He tugged the ropes, closed the bag and departed the bathroom. His mother was waiting for him down stairs. His father had already left for work and knowing he would be gone before Nicco's departure administered his blessings, advice and encouraging words last night. Now it was just Nico and his mom. They stood in the doorway making small talk neither of them knowing quite what to say. Nicco was to take a bus to the train station where a train would get him to the Great Lakes Naval base in Waukegan, Illinois about sixty miles away. And from there? Only God and perhaps the Secretary of the Navy, and admiral or two knew. But Nicco had accepted as fact that it would be out on some boat (which he was to learn shortly to refer to as a ship) somewhere in the Pacific. One didn't have to have a Ph.D degree to figure that out. The European front was moving slowly, it was a slog but it was movement in the right direction, but now it was a battle on land and in the air. Despite some submarine activity, naval battles in the Atlantic had quieted down and the ocean on the other side of the country was the big naval show. While speaking with his mother in the hall, Nicco recalled what brought him to this tender moment of farewell. It was only several months ago he had taken and passed his navy physical. He and a couple of his school chums enlisted when they were 17 years old. They had decided it would be a better choice then waiting a few more months for the draft to get them at 18 and put them in the infantry which everyone seemed to feel was tantamount to winning the lottery to hell. He thought of that day in downtown Chicago where guys from Wisconsin, Indiana, and even Iowa who volunteered for the navy were assembled in a big building for a day full of tests. He recalled a crusty chief boatswain's mate who told them what the day would bring while informing them what an honor it was to serve one's country especially in the navy. He stated even in battle, the navy ate better than any other branch of service. "There will always be a hot meal and coffee. You won't be eating K rations". That prompted a few chuckles. He ended his 30 minute indoctrination with "Some of you fellows will not pass the physical exams. And for those of you who don't, kindly refrain from hollering 'whoopee' until you're out of the building". It got a hearty laugh. The group was composed of gung ho young men who envisioned themselves as tough, masculine, and heroic; and there was the opposite type, reflective, quiet and frightened. Nicco was among the latter but once the physical exams were underway an episode so hilarious momentarily subdued his foreboding. After the stethoscope on the chest for a heartbeat came the urine analysis and the doctor indicated a big cabinet on the wall about 10 feet away with lots of bottles. He announced in military command voice "Leave a urine specimen in one of the bottles". A goodly number of these young recruits came from Midwestern farms and had sparse knowledge of scientific or even proper terms; consequently when the doctor told one young man to leave a urine specimen he looked perplexed and just stood there with a questioning face. The doctor repeated his request and the fellow still didn't get it. Finally the doctor recognized this patient wasn't a sophisticate and changed his request to "Piss in the bottle", while indicting the cabinet. The fellow looked at the cabinet and replied "From here?"
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About the Book
This book is the true story of a life spanning two centuries, from Prohibition to the Internet, from boyhood to great-grandfather, from the Great Depression to a man on the moon, from victory in war to a tenuous peace—all relived on these pages to induce both tears and laughter.
About the Author
Nicco Montefeltro wrote for his high school and college newspapers/papers. He was a literary agent for thirty years while representing some of Hollywood’s most esteemed writers, several of them Academy Award winners. Upon retirement, he took up the pen again and has written for numerous publications including Reader’s Digest, The Times of London, and Los Angeles magazine. He has had two plays produced. I Only Cry When a Lion Bites Me is his third book. He has been for more than thirty years (and still is) the featured columnist for his hometown newspaper, The Ojai Valley News.