1947Chicago, Vecchio's war story

"Well, I spend a great deal of time alone in the bush. One gets to know oneself well in those conditions."

"That's God's own truth," Vecchio agreed.

"What would you know about it, City Boy?" Kowalski said, "You've never been alone in the middle of anywhere."

Vecchio paused, then said, "War story. In the Pacific, on patrol, my plane was went down. We weren't even shot, it was just an engine failure. I got out okay, but then I'm floating there, alone, in the middle of this endless blue. Figure I can last two days, maybe three. I don't see any land. I can hope for a rescue, but I don't expect it. So far as I know, no one saw us go down, no one knew where we went down." He took a sip, not meeting their eyes.

"Nothing to do but float and think and pray. I realize that I can die brave or I can die cowardly, and nobody but myself and God will ever know. I really wanted to cry and scream about how unfair it is that I, Gunner Raymundo Vecchio of Chicago and the US Air Force, should be eaten by fishes, and beg God, St. Jude -- beg anybody -- to get me back on dry land in one piece."

"But you know, I couldn't do it. Didn't fit my style."

Kowalski laughed.

"No, I'm serious. All the saints knew I wanted to live, but I was there and all I had was myself and my life preserver. And for my own satisfaction, I wanted to die the way I'd lived, like a brave American soldier. So I said a prayer for intervention, said an Ave, and settled down to wait.

"A couple hours later, I was picked up. I've had some close calls since then, but. . . it's easier now. I know how I'm going to act when my time comes."

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