The Favor

My friend, Lester, was a ladies’ man. Today, I would say he

resembled a cross between a young Robert Redford facially,

and physically the stature of a Dwayne Johnson. Of course that

was back in 1965 way before their time. 

Now, I was 6’ 3” and 150 lbs soaking wet, a string bean known

as “Babyface” to the young frauleins in the town of Bad Hersfeld,

Germany where Lester and I were stationed in the Army.

Needless to say, my nickname was the equivalent of the third strike,

you’re out, in baseball. I was not in the running with the young ladies

insofar as the dating game was concerned. Lester, of course, could

pick and choose his prey, who liberally bestowed upon him more

adoration and attention than one ordinary guy could ever handle.

Lester was known to schedule two or three dates in one day while out

on pass, more often than not scoring across the board. I admired his

brazen tenacity, and of course was insanely jealous of his inimitable

studly prowess. But he was nice to me, and a homely guy such as I

had to admire, even love a son-of-a-bitch like that.

Being a G.I. so far away from home, having all the beer one desired,

and the companionship of a young lady from town would certainly

help to keep an acute case of loneliness at bay. In this regard, Lester,

the corn-fed hunk from Nebraska had no worries. Some lucky guys get

all the looks and the girls falling head-over-heels over them as well.

Anyhow, be that as it may, Lester and I went into town on pass to

drink beer one Saturday. At The Hole in the Wall, a popular local

gasthause, we struck up a conversation with a couple of unattached

young ladies. We bought them a round of beer. And as with most of

the German girls in town, they spoke English pretty well, much better

than the few words of Deutsche I foolishly stumbled over trying to

impress them.

Meanwhile, Lester was interested in one of the girls, Renate was her

name. While I was embarrassing myself with the other young lady, I

found out later, after we left the gasthause that he had set up a date

with Renate next week. That guy, as the old folks and nerds like me

would say, he never lets moss grow beneath his feet.

A few days later, Lester stopped me in the hallway back at our base.

He said he needed a favor from me. Sure, what’s going on, I asked?

You know that girl I set up a date with next Saturday? Renate, I an-

swered? Yeah, well I can’t make it. Got another hot one on the line.

Can you fill in for me? Why...er...a...me? Well, hell she’s not going to

like me substituting for you. I don’t think… Sure you can. It’ll be fine.

I talked with her on the phone. Told her I had to pull Guard Duty and

can’t make it. I asked if you could fill in for me this one time. She said

it would be fine. Come on, Buddy, really need you on this one. Well,

this one time, I suppose I could, but where are we going to meet?

She lives in Kirchheim a small town just 10-clicks away. How in hell

am I going to get there? A taxi will cost a fortune. Take the train, it

stops in Kirchheim. Cheaper and only half-hour away, he said. Here’s

her address. It’s just a short walk to her place from the station. Thanks

a bunch, old Pal. Pay you back later.

Came Saturday, I went downtown Bad Hersfeld to the Bahnhof and

caught the morning train to Kirchheim. I managed to find Renata’s

place. A quaint little town, Kirchheim. Knocked on the door and

Renata answered, looking fine. She was a good looker, better than

I had remembered. Maybe this would turn out all right. We said

our hellos and she stepped out of the door hesitantly. She told

me her mother was at home and she couldn’t go out right now.

There’s a small park across the street. If you go over there and

wait, I’ll be out in about an hour. Meine Mutter möchte nicht,

dass ich mit American G.I.s. Sie wird in Kürze gehen, ungefähr

eine Stunde. English please, I told her, your German is too fast

for me. I caught, mother, American G.I. and not. You go wait,

one hour, she said in English.

So I found a park bench, sat down, lit a smoke and waited. One

hour passed and I waited. Two, three hours went by. I smoked

nearly a whole pack of cigarettes, and still no Renate. The sun

was going down and I was feeling quite the fool. I should have

never agreed with Lester to do this. He could any girl he wanted.

He wouldn‘t stand for this shit. But me, I was young and inexper-

ienced in the ways of women and adulthood. Let this be a lesson

to me. Shit! Hell! Goddamn!…

So, at 7PM Renate finally arrives. And I wanting to show how

patient and thoughtful an American G.I. could be, I smiled and

pleasantly said, Glad you could make it. Where to now? And she

led us to a gasthaus in the middle of town where we met up with

a few friends of hers and drank beer. But it got to be late enough

in the evening, and I had to figure out how I was going to get back

to the kaserne before midnight and bedcheck. A taxi, Renate sug-

gested. That would take all the money I had left on me. But better

that than getting an Article 15 for being reported as AWOL by

the CQ. 

Cordially, yet internally pissed off as hell at myself, I bid Renate

and her friends farewell. I made bed check with 5-minutes to spare.

I hit the sack exhausted with frustration. Next day, I saw Lester at

the snak bar, and he asked me how it went with Renate? I took a

healthy swig of my burning hot coffee, and told him that Renate

never wanted to see either one of us ever again. Lester shrugged

his shoulders (as if he really cared). I didn‘t bother asking him how his

‘‘Guard Duty‘‘ went.

                                      -30-

Chris Hanch 5-15-2020