{"id":392,"date":"2011-06-18T09:24:33","date_gmt":"2011-06-18T17:24:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/?p=392"},"modified":"2023-08-12T13:07:53","modified_gmt":"2023-08-12T21:07:53","slug":"a-rave-review","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/2011\/06\/18\/a-rave-review\/","title":{"rendered":"A Rave Review!"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"PNWA<\/a>Occasionally I’ll submit a story to one of the literary contests that take place each year. I’ve been a finalist a few times and even won third-place money a couple of times in the annual Pacific Northwest Writers Association competition. This year, I didn’t make the finalist list, but when I looked at the critical reviews of my story, my eyeballs popped wide open. One of the judges had given me a rave review!<\/p>\n

This is the sort of thing that stokes a writer’s fire. Scoring my story with 98 out of 100 points, the judge said some extremely complimentary things, for instance:<\/p>\n

\u201cOne of the best renditions of character I\u2019ve seen in a very long time,\u201d and, \u201cTense. Moving. My eyes didn\u2019t turn away from the page even for a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

If both judges had seen it this way, I\u2019d probably have taken the Grand Prize. Unfortunately, the second judge gave it 82 points\u2014a very respectable tally, but the kiss of death in a contest with almost 1,000 entries.<\/p>\n

If you\u2019d like to see the whole review, click here<\/a> for a pdf copy. Following the rules of the contest, the judges are unknown to me and my name did not appear on the story, so they were unaware of whose story they were critiquing in the interest of fairness to unknown and well known authors alike. That way the story is judged without bias as to who its creator is. Everything rests on the merits of the story itself. So when the judge says it\u2019s an \u201cextremely well-done piece,\u201d I know he\/she is talking about the story on its own merits and judging it a hit.<\/p>\n

So, next, I\u2019ll consider making a couple of fine-point revisions the judges suggested, then I\u2019ll either submit it to a magazine, or perhaps publish it as an e-book. I\u2019ll make that decision soon and let you know. In the meantime, here\u2019s a teaser\u2014the first few pages of the story will give you a feel for what the judges were talking about, and maybe whet your appetite for the whole story when it comes out.<\/p>\n

HERB SHORT\u2019S STORY<\/strong><\/p>\n

In memory of Uncle Herb, who really lived this story.<\/em><\/p>\n

The auditorium of Seattle\u2019s Town Hall was filling toward capacity. It was a rainy night and the line at the coat check window was long. There were dames in pillbox hats and mink, and gals in camel overcoats and silk scarves, escorted by fellows in pinstriped suits and narrow neckties, and guys in black topcoats. It was a pretty fine crowd. The show was about to start and the evening\u2019s attraction, Ace Riley, was already on stage. He looked sharp in his black Marine dress uniform and white cap and brilliantly shined shoes. He sat on a chair next to the podium with the mayor beside him, gabbing pleasantly. Seated beside the mayor was another man who held a key to the city in his lap. It was a gaudy looking, big fake golden thing.<\/p>\n

Herb Short was a thin, plainly dressed man who hadn\u2019t bothered with the coat check line. He still wore his wet fedora and a trench coat with rain-dampened shoulders. Walking with a limp, he came to the front of the seating area and called up to the stage, \u201cI was at Cactus.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice was loud enough that the idle conversation onstage stopped. Ace Riley, whose uniform burgeoned with wings and medals, battle stars and bars, looked at him blankly.<\/p>\n

\u201cCactus Air Force, Henderson Field, Guadalcanal, 1943,\u201d Herb clarified. \u201cRemember me?\u201d<\/p>\n

After a long thoughtful look, Ace said, \u201cNope.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were my squadron leader. Took us into action against a Japanese convoy up by New Georgia Island, February 4th, three days after I got to Guadalcanal. I was a turret gunner aboard a Navy Grumman Avenger torpedo bomber. Remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace stared at Herb a moment. \u201cSorry, no.\u201d<\/p>\n

Herb laughed uneasily. \u201cHard to remember someone you only knew for three days, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace nodded his head in agreement, smiling kindly. \u201cIt\u2019s been five years, now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2014\u201d Herb began uncomfortably and then stopped. And then he started again with determination. \u201cI think my crewmates and I didn\u2019t get proper credit. We got more Jap kills than they said we did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Riley thought a moment. \u201cThings got mixed up sometimes in the heat of battle. What\u2019d you say your name was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say. It\u2019s Herbert Albert Short, USNR six-six-four, oh-nine, five-oh, reporting for duty sir.\u201d He snapped a salute, just a bit wobbly from the drink he\u2019d taken to bolster himself for this moment. Drinks. He\u2019d had three whiskey rocks, over at the Anchor Bar.<\/p>\n

Ace grinned and played along. He gave a desultory salute. \u201cAt ease, airman.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI shot down three Jap Zeros. I know I did. My buddies and I saw \u2019em burn and splash. All that on my first mission; my last mission. Didn\u2019t you see it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-uh.\u201d Riley\u2019s face clouded and his smile drained away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou directed the whole shooting match from 14,000 feet. We made our torpedo run on a destroyer of the Imperial Japanese Fleet trying to relieve their Guadalcanal troops, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuppose?\u201d Herb felt red rising on his face and neck. \u201cZeros were thick that day, like to blot out the sun, but we went in anyway. Still don\u2019t remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw a lot of action; a lot of days when Zeros were thick.\u201d A new thought seemed to strike Ace. He turned to the mayor. \u201cYou can use that in your introduction. One theory goes that the Japanese Empire lost the war exactly because they ran low on experienced Zero pilots.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I got my share,\u201d Herb insisted. \u201cThree kills. They were on us like flies on shit and the turret gunner\u2019s job was to splash \u2019em, and I did. But I only got credit for one kill and one probable. You were overhead with the dive-bomber flight. Didn\u2019t you see what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d Ace looked uncomfortable. \u201cWhy are you asking?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I want the record set straight. Because I got robbed of my credit. Because two men died on that flight, the best buddies I ever had, and I spent the rest of the war in a hospital once I\u2019d dragged my shot-up carcass outta that God-forsaken jungle.\u201d<\/p>\n

The light of recognition came over Riley\u2019s face. \u201cI do remember you. They brought you back from New Georgia Island in a PBY float plane a week or so later, wounded something awful. Shipped you and your pilot stateside ASAP. We didn\u2019t think either one of you\u2019d last long enough to make it home. Glad to see we were wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGlad, huh? You\u2019re glad I\u2019m alive and right here, right now, asking you, where\u2019s my credit for three kills?\u201d Herb nearly shouted the last bit. The mayor stirred uneasily and looked at the crowd filling the auditorium, and then at his watch.<\/p>\n

\u201cEr,\u201d His Honor interjected, trying unsuccessfully to break the lock of Herb\u2019s eyes on Riley\u2019s and Riley\u2019s on Herb\u2019s. \u201cWe\u2019ll begin in two minutes. Mr. er, Short, will you please take a seat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Herb stood tall, both feet planted, the wooziness of the booze gone. \u201cI\u2019ll take a seat when I get credit for my three kills.\u201d He fixed Riley\u2019s eyes even harder.<\/p>\n

Riley looked down at his shiny shoes, and then at Herb again with one bushy brow lowering. \u201cListen.\u201d He leaned down and motioned Herb to come near the edge of the stage. Herb drew close and Ace half whispered, \u201cSometimes credit got shared around. You know? If someone got killed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re saying somebody took my credit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe figured you for a goner. I remember now. You got hit by flack from the ship you were after. I saw your plane trailing smoke after your torpedo run. I reported your plane lost in action.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, who took credit for my other kill?\u201d<\/p>\n

Riley sat back straight in his chair. His face worked like thoughts were percolating that he hadn\u2019t had in years. \u201cLook,\u201d he began. \u201cSome other guys got killed that day, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah? So?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, to make their families feel like their sons hadn\u2019t died in vain, we\u2019d sometimes give \u2019em some credit. You understand? Now, I saw you go down in flames on New Georgia. I didn\u2019t figure anybody could survive that crash.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I did, with shrapnel in my skull and a fractured backbone and a Jap Zero slug stickin\u2019 right outta my breastbone, right over my heart. I dug it out with a stick, and I buried one of my best friends\u2014\u201d His voice broke and he started to cry.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy now, buddy,\u201d the mayor soothed, looking again at his watch. Just a hint of fear colored his expression.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2014\u201d Herb stopped and wiped a drip from under his nose and tears from the corners of his eyes. \u201cWho\u2019d you give the credit to?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026 Uh\u2026 Let\u2019s see. I\u2014 I don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

Herb watched Riley\u2019s eyes shift as he spoke and it all came clear. \u201cIt was you! You took the credit. You gave my kill to yourself. My kill made you an ace!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe figured you for a goner. You were missing for more than a week.\u201d Ace sounded almost apologetic.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was nine days in hell!\u201d Herb shouted, making the auditorium ring. Every conversation in the place stopped. \u201cYou son of a bitch! You lousy goddamn son of a bitch!\u201d Things that had been a mystery to Herb for five years were suddenly in focus. A wave of nausea rolled through him. He\u2019d had three shots of whiskey at the Anchor Bar while waiting to come here, but tonight three shots were not enough to keep the memories from rushing back, clattering through his mind like Jap machinegun bullets clattering through the Avenger.<\/p>\n

Herb glared at Riley. \u201cA guy once told me you hot-shot dive-bomber pilots got the glory by sending us Avenger airmen in first. You knew we\u2019d go in low to drop our torpedoes and the Zeros would follow us down and shoot us up. That left you wide open to come in from above. I\u2019m starting to think that guy was right. You sent us in to die while you got the glory.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ace nearly came out of his seat. \u201cDon\u2019t believe it. Going in low was your job. I only told you to do your job and you did it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo why no credit for my kill?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike I said,\u201d Ace replied more quietly, leaning nearer again. \u201cWe thought you\u2019d been killed. We\u2019d already reported the kills by the time you crawled out of the jungle and got airlifted back to Cactus. Can you blame me for not wanting the trouble of telling brass we\u2019d misreported kill credit? I could see you were too shot up to ever fly with us again, so I let it ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet it ride, huh? My credit for a Jap kill. You let it ride? Credit that Joe and Frank died to get? I buried Frankie in the mud.\u201d He sobbed and wiped at tears with the back of a wrist.<\/p>\n

When Herb looked up again, Riley shrugged.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou fucking piece of shit!\u201d Herb shouted, silencing the buzz that had restarted in the crowd. \u201cYou\u2019re up there with the mayor, getting awards when it was me and Joe and Frank getting shot to hell that got you one of the planes you claimed? You stayed above it all, and you\u2019re still up there right now, looking down at me. But you\u2019re not fit to shine the shoes of guys like Joe and Frank and me, the guys that really took those Japs down.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now Riley was on his feet, thumbing his chest pugnaciously. \u201cI took down plenty of Japs myself. I would have made ace anyway!\u201d<\/p>\n

The mayor was up, beside Riley. He waved for someone in the wings. A cop appeared, followed quickly by another. Herb had no time to react before both cops were on him. One grabbed him by the coat collar while the other wrestled his arm up behind his back in a hammerlock. \u201cOw!\u201d Herb cried. \u201cTake it easy buddy. That arm\u2019s full of flack.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d mocked the first cop, whose ruddy fat face looked familiar. \u201cNext you\u2019re gonna say don\u2019t punch me in the chest, \u2019cause my breastbone\u2019s got a Jap Zero slug in it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s damn right\u2014\u201d Herb began, but the second cop wrenched his arm higher and hissed in his ear. \u201cWe know who you are, buddy. We\u2019ve had to take care of you a couple-a times lately.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou piece-a shit!\u201d Herb bellowed at the first cop the way he\u2019d bellowed at Ace Riley. He wrenched himself sideways, trying to break the second cop\u2019s hammerlock, but that only made the guy twist his arm up higher and set the first cop on him too. They shoved him over backwards and came down heavily on top of him. When the back of his skull smacked down on the wooden floor, Herb saw a glaring flash of white light like he\u2019d seen when the Avenger slammed into a giant banyan tree on New Georgia Island.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I may not have won the grand prize, but my entry in the Pacific Northwest Writers Association annual literary contest garnered some raves from one of the judges. Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[64,15,16],"tags":[77,26,25,15,27,111,16],"class_list":["post-392","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-author","category-guadalcanal-aviators","category-uncle-herb","tag-77","tag-aviators","tag-guadalcanal","tag-guadalcanal-aviators","tag-herbert-hopp","tag-pnwa","tag-uncle-herb"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=392"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2987,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/392\/revisions\/2987"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=392"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=392"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thomas-hopp.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=392"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}