2nd Edition. First edition published on Amazon in November 2014.
After Andy Crawford learns of his fatherâs death, he returns home to Anamosa, Iowa and comes to understand the truths deep inside his childhood memories. He recollects the turbulent, life changing events from the summer of 1966, and how everything had seemed to turn sideways.
Andy found himself in the middle of the struggle, surrounded and shaped by the love of his mother and his father, his uncle, but most of all, by Billy West.
When Billy comes home from the war in Vietnam he is a changed man. With the love of his life at his side, he wrestles with PTSD and is confronted by a dark and evil force in the name of Joe Matsell. As the sum of their choices bear various fruits, the consequences of love and fear unfurl and alter the lives of a group of people who lived on a river called the Wapsipinicon.
Dedicated to our military veterans, Wapsipinicon Summer is a story about coming home and healing, about courage and scars, about forgiveness and redemption, and about giving love a chance.
2nd Edition. First edition published on Amazon in November 2014.
After Andy Crawford learns of his fatherâs death, he returns home to Anamosa, Iowa and comes to understand the truths deep inside his childhood memories. He recollects the turbulent, life changing events from the summer of 1966, and how everything had seemed to turn sideways.
Andy found himself in the middle of the struggle, surrounded and shaped by the love of his mother and his father, his uncle, but most of all, by Billy West.
When Billy comes home from the war in Vietnam he is a changed man. With the love of his life at his side, he wrestles with PTSD and is confronted by a dark and evil force in the name of Joe Matsell. As the sum of their choices bear various fruits, the consequences of love and fear unfurl and alter the lives of a group of people who lived on a river called the Wapsipinicon.
Dedicated to our military veterans, Wapsipinicon Summer is a story about coming home and healing, about courage and scars, about forgiveness and redemption, and about giving love a chance.
âI ainât never seen anything like it.â Dave raised his voice just above a whisper. âThe night the Old Man took his stand and paid the price. Paid the price for all of us, he did. Things werenât quite right that night.â Dave clutched the beer in his hand. âLyinâ there in the shadows around Djebel Lassouda. I remember an anxious anticipationâjust feelinâ undoneâand an uncomfortable heavy silence in the shadows. First came them Panzers. We was low on ammunition and didnât have much to fight âem with, so we stayed down in our holes. The ground shook us up as those tanks grumbled past our positions. The vibration rattled my chest, and my knees shook with fear. But that wasnât the worst of it. When their infantry followed, everything went to hell in a handbasket.â
Andy looked up at his father and Uncle Dave. Darkness was closing in around them, but out on the back porch, he could still see his uncleâs ghostlike expressions in the moonlight. His uncleâs face seemed so sad, so solemn. Andy felt an awkward twinge of guilt, but he didnât want Uncle Dave to stop telling his story.
Dave looked away. âIt all went from bad to worse, and I probably wouldnât be here if not for what the Old Man done. I think he knew it too. He knew what was wrong and what needed to be done. He had that way about him.â
Dave sipped his beer. âWe called Captain Sterling the Old Man with pride. Although he wasnât much older than any of us, he just seemed older. He had that special touch with people. He knew how to lead. Whether it was a kind word, a hard look, or just his own personal example, he always knew how to get the best out of us. I rarely heard him raise his voice, and I never heard him cussânot once. Sometimes he was our father figure, other times our brother. Every now and then, he was our preacher, our teacher, or our counselor. But even when he was tough on us, somehow we knew he was our friend. He never got too close to anyone, though; it werenât professional. But he was always there for us, willinâ to listen and ready to make things right. He was fair, but he was also firm.â
Daveâs lip curled in a small smile as he glanced at Andy. His voice became softer, âI think about him often and why we all loved him so much. More than anything, it was probably his humility. He served us. He loved us. He never asked us to do anything he wasnât willinâ to do himself.â Dave paused and stared at the label on his beer.
John placed his hand on his brotherâs arm. âYou donât have to . . .â
âCaptain Sterling could see things most of us never saw,â Dave continued, ignoring his brother. âHe could size up the situation and always knew what to do. I think he knew it when he done what he done. Mustâve figured it was the only way when he decided it was his turn.â
Dave stared into the night and lowered his voice. âThey were all around us. I could smell âem in their leather and steel. Them Krauts were all over us, and the Old Man jumped headlong into the mass of âem. We were overrun, but there he was in the smoke and darkness. I could see his silhouette in the shadows. He was shootinâ at âem point-blank with his .45. Donât think them Krauts knew what was cominâ at âem, or maybe they was so surprised somebody would do something so crazy.â Dave shook his head with a soft chuckle. âBut there he was, shootinâ âem down one by one âtil he was out of ammo. I heard his sharp, high-pitched scream as he swung wildly at âem, his knife in one hand and his helmet in the other. I can still clearly see them two shiny bars on his collar flash in the moonlight as he fought âem off, killinâ three or four more of âem until a mass of about twenty Krauts appeared outta the shadows and swallowed him up.â Dave let out a deep sigh. âThen I didnât see him no more, just those Krauts standinâ there. Seemed like they were in awe of him, almost a strange kind of respect, cold and quiet, a clump of them in the night.â
Dave looked up at Andy. âAbout that time, me, Smitty, and Larson had just about had enough. Donât know if Iâve ever been so angry and scared all at the same time. With our bayonets fixed, we poured out of our foxholes and charged headlong into the dark mass. I donât remember anyone givinâ the order; it just happened. It wasnât anything like weâd trained for. It was worse. Pure chaos.â
When Dave leaned back in his lawn chair, Andy could no longer see his face in the moonlight. His uncleâs voice lowered to a whisper, but Andy could still hear him and hung on every word. âAs we lunged forward from our holes, I yelled at the top of my lungs. I mustâve been out of my mind when all hell broke loose. It was like I was no longer in my body but watchinâ from above. One thing I clearly rememberâthat Iâll always rememberâwas the first Kraut I killed that night.â
Dave took a sip of his beer and then his voice became animated. âAs we ran into the mass of enemy soldiers, I lunged forward at one of them. I thrust my rifle with all my strength deep into his middle. As I pushed my bayonet through, his hands wrapped around my rifle. We were locked together, both grippinâ my weapon. Everything slowed down, and it was just the two of us. I felt this warm, greasy wetness, and I clearly remember his eyes. They were young eyes. He was just a kidâmaybe a few years older than young Andy here.â
Dave turned to John, who was sitting next to him on the porch. âWe were locked together through my rifle for what seemed like an eternity. As the life was draininâ out of him, he stumbled to his knees and an intense flood of shame washed over me. My gut retched with disgust in myself, and for an instant, I thought I was gonna vomit.â
Dave paused and looked into the distance. âThen something smashed into my right leg, and the whole night lit up around usâlike a hundred Fourth of Julys right on top of us. Next thing I remember was all of Bravo Company roarinâ across the field into the tree line and the panic-stricken screams of the Krauts as olâ Bravo poured over their position and massed our fires into âem. I shot four more almost instantly. They were all around me, and I couldnât miss. It couldnât have lasted more than five seconds, but it felt like the world had slowed down, and I could move in and around time how I pleased. Strange.â
Dave took another swig of his beer and cleared his throat. âIn those few seconds, everything was so clear. I sensed the whole situation and could do whatever I wanted. It was a weird, powerful feeling, like I was superhuman . . . all-powerful. Ainât never felt that way before or since. I shot each one of âem right in the face, and they just dropped heavy, dead to the ground. Mustâve been all that traininâ from Captain Sterling. Heâd been hard on us in our traininâ, and sometimes we hated him for it, but now I know. We didnât understand what he was preparinâ us for, but that night in the desert, we understood.â Dave set his beer down and dropped his voice lower. âWe understood all right, and it saved our lives.âÂ
Staring into the night, Dave seemed as if he saw it happening again. âI remember lookinâ to my right and seeinâ olâ Bravo rushinâ ahead into the rock formations, and the quick fear that Iâd be left behind by my brothers lit a match under me. I turned to run after âem, but couldnât get my balanceâmy right leg was all wrong. I was dizzy, and the darkness was spinninâ all around me. I was sinkinâ . . . sinkinâ slow at first, and then I fell. I couldnât stop it. I remember it all seemed silly. I fell . . . fell down flat on my face . . .â Daveâs voice tapered off to silence as his eyes gazed out beyond the porch and across the street, somewhere toward the edge of the neighborhood.
Lightning flashed in the distance, but no thunder followed. It was still too far away. It reminded Dave of artillery fire at night, and instinctively, he began countingâflash to bang. Using the speed of sound, he could quickly calculate how far away the artillery was or, in this case, the storm. In some ways, everything reminded him of that war.
âLooks like a storm may be cominâ on tonight,â John said, interrupting the silence.
âWe sure could use some rain,â Dave replied. âThe stormâs still a ways off, though, probably five miles or more.â
âYep. Still got time for at least one more beer. What do you say?â John suggested, standing up from his chair.
Dave broke his gaze and looked up at his brother. âYeah, another beer would be great. Thanks, John.â
John turned to his son. âAndy, you best be gettinâ ready for bed soon. We got church in the morninâ, and you donât want your mother toââ
Andy interrupted his father. âAw Dad, just a few more minutes. I wanna hear the rest of Uncle Daveâs story.â
âFive minutes,â John said sternly as he lowered his chin and raised five fingers, making sure Andy understood. âJust five more minutes, and then itâs time for bed.â John then stepped inside to grab a couple more beers.
A slight breeze picked up, and the trees in the backyard swayed back and forth. Dave felt the storm closing in on them. He tried to continue with his story, but his thoughts were jumbled. âWell, uh . . . like I said, the Old Man laid it on the line and gave us his best. He saved many of us. He saved his company. We was overrun. Rommelâthat damn wily olâ Desert Foxâoutsmarted us that night. But Captain Sterling saved us. I donât know how, but he done it. We just followed. Somehow he knew, and we followed him.â
The night closed in on their conversation, and Dave lowered his voice to a whisper. âThere ainât a day goes by that I donât think about him . . . what he done for me. And I wonder . . . I wonder if Iâm measurinâ up . . . if my life is worth his sacrifice, worth his respect.â
Dave dropped his head so Andy could no longer see his face. When John stepped back out on the porch, Dave cleared his throat as he prepared to continue his story. âSomebody mustâve pulled me for ten miles after that fight. It was daylight before we finally made it back to old Kernâs Crossroads and were safely behind our line.â
âWhat about Larson and Smitty? Where were they?â Andy implored.
Looking toward the horizon, Dave tried to forget the ugliness, tried to forget the costs. Lightning flashed again, and this time it was accompanied by the low rumble of thunder. âLarson? Smitty? Well uh . . . they uh . . . they didnât . . . I . . . I donâtââ Dave stammered.
John handed him a beer. âHere you go, Daveâan ice cold Old Style.â
Dave sat there on the front porch, his eyelids half-open, looking off in the distanceâlooking for something, remembering something, mumbling something to himself.
âAndrew, itâs past eleven, and you best get in and get ready for bed. Your ma will have your hide if youâre not in bed in the next thirty minutes. Besides, it looks like itâs gonna rain soon.âÂ
âAw, Dad, do I have to? Uncle Dave never told me about these parts,â Andy begged with a pout. âI wanna hear more âbout how he was a hero in North Africa.â
âYour dadâs right. You best get ready for bed. You got church tomorrow, and you donât wanna get your ma cross with you . . . âspecially if you wanna go fishinâ with me tomorrow.â Dave smiled and ruffled Andyâs hair.
Andy turned to his father. âReally Dad? I can go fishinâ tomorrow?â
âYeah, sure, Son. But you best get to bed, otherwise your ma may have something to say âbout you doinâ chores instead.â
Andy gave his dad and uncle a hug and ran inside the house. Still at age twelve, he was closer to thirteen and entering that awkward stage of growth both physically and emotionally. He was stretching out, growing faster than all the previous years combined. His voice had taken on a hint of deepness, and peach fuzz dusted his upper lip. Andy was stepping up to the edge of manhood.
Dave turned to his brother. âThanks. I donât know why I was talkinâ âbout that. Thereâs just something in a summer eveninâ that brings back those memories. I apologize for leadinâ Andy on like that.â
âBrother, you ainât got to apologize for nothinâ. Sometimes you just gotta let things out a little. I didnât tell you this earlier, but I wanna thank you for spendinâ time with Andy this summer. Itâs meant a lot to Maggie and me. This guard schedule at the prison has been tough for all of us. You know better than anybody, workinâ up in the front office and all.â John stopped for a moment and looked to his brother for his concurrence.
âWorkinâ on the Stone is a hard life for everyone.â Daveâs words hung in the air.
Everyone called the Iowa Menâs Reformatory âthe Stone,â partly because the maximum security prison had the appearance of a massive stone fortress, complete with a thirty-foot stone wall, bulwarks, towers, and even stone lions guarding the entrance. But it was also because working in the prisonâamong some of the most hateful and violent criminals in the Midwestâcould turn a man hard and cold. It could turn a good man to stone if he let it. The Stone left an impression on everyone, whether you worked there or were a full-time resident.Â
John nodded. âBy the end of August, Iâll finally be able to come off workinâ nights. This shift schedule over the past year has been hard for Maggie, but itâs been really tough on Andy. Thought Iâd get more time with him this summer, but that damn schedule hasnât changed. And it ainât gonna happenâat least not âtil August at the earliest. Wonât see any change âtil the state hires more guards.â
âBrother, itâs no problem spendinâ time with Andy. I know youâd do the same for me.â
Dave gazed off into the distance. During July in Iowa, the nights exploded with life. The backyard sparkled with lightning bugs, hummed with the siren sounds of locusts in the trees, and flickered with June bugs on the porch light as they sputtered and knocked into the front screen door. Dave watched a raccoon dig into a trash can across the street in the Meyersâ front yard and heard the distant sound of Barry Barnesâs tires screeching down Main Street. With the humidity and the constant movement, the night was teeming with life.
Not surprisingly, the thunder and lightning reminded Dave of the nights that would never endâall those years ago in the shadows, among the awkward clumps of men, in the heat and confusion, in the steady stream of chaotic noise, in the constant din of a battlefield in North Africa. And now, so many years later, in the heat of a summer evening in Iowa, he still struggled with the shame of all the things he had to do back then just to survive.
The brothers, Dave and John Crawford, felt the storm coming on. This was the heavy calm before the storm.
âHow âbout one more beer before we call it a night?â John suggested.
âNow youâre talkinâ, brother. I sure could use one more,â Dave replied.
Wapsipinicon Summer by Jay Soupene begins with Andy Crawford returning to his town after learning of his father's death. The story then takes us on a trip down memory lane to people Andy admired as a child, the most important one being, Billy West. We get to enjoy the escapades of Billy, Anna, Josh and others who were a part of his life.
This is a book that will make you shiver and cry and smile and laugh and contemplate. It is a deeply touching story that will tug on your heartstrings. Now onto the aspects of this book that I enjoyed. Firstly, the way the story was woven around so many characters made it a very holistic experience. I could truly experience the bonds and stories and eccentricities of the townspeople. It takes masterful writing to express characters so beautifully and to portray them with such depth.
Secondly, the writing itself was a pleasure to read. The descriptions are so aptly written, they inspire your imagination to conjure all the beautiful settings described. The way of speaking in that time period is also perfectly depicted, which wholly transports the reader to that time and place.
Thirdly, the way the plot is built slowly and subtly is a marvel. The plot is used not only as a device with which to thrill the readers but also to help the readers better understand the characters. This made the read very rich and pleasurable.
Fourthly, the overall theme of the book was very inspiring. We see a young soldier returning from Vietnam with unseen scars. We also see how this affects other people, people close to him, who love him. I enjoyed the way that mental health as a topic was handled. Topics of grief, guilt, rape, abuse and many more were treated with the gravity that they deserve, neither belittling the victims nor portraying them as monsters.
I can honestly admit that I have no complaints about this book.
I would recommend this book to people who enjoy books that have a variety of characters. People who enjoy books set in small towns would also enjoy this. This is a book for people over the age of 18 due to various mature themes. Lastly, people who enjoy a glorious, sweet romance riddled with the struggles of life are sure to love this.
Trigger Warning: This book has mentions of war that are gory and explicitly described. It also has mentions of emotional, physical and sexual abuse, mentioned but not described.