The Bellamy Salute

Curtis township, population 504, was located at the end of a long road that wound through hills to a lake hidden in the vast wilderness, and I don't think I'm ever going back there.

The leader of the Children's Brigade was a girl, twelve or thirteen, with long blond hair twisted and tied like a warrior; she had the palest blue eyes which focused on the distance beyond here and now. They called her Joan, and she was blessed with heavenly spirit, which she expressed in sparing and righteous ways. When she and her fellow Crusaders arrived in our town, they were tired and hungry, smelling of urine and sweat, their clothes were ragged and some of them walked without shoes, the souls of their feet were black and calloused. They wore the flag on their shoulders; white, blue, and red, unsoiled by the road.

We expected them to be ravenous, to fall upon the sandwiches and cakes, soda, and candies, like animals, so harrowing was their journey, but led by Joan, the Crusaders ate like ascetics, picking at the crudités, sipping plain water, spurning sweet frivolities. They possessed an unimaginable inner strength. I would do my best, and Joan might see in me the makings of a Crusader.

Channing Lovelace, the town clerk, between tears and sniffles, attested to the fact that all 504 members of the Curtis Township were in attendance, and I asked her to run the rollcall a second time to make sure that it was so, which vigilance was noted by Joan and her closest aides, and which filled me with some of their strength. The townsfolk lined up in neat rows on the lawn outside the post office, and Maude Green, head of the Betsy Ross Covenant, raised the flag up the tall white post. It was a grand flag, big and brand new, and it waved gently in the breeze, beneath the dome of blue sky, bringing a tear to the eye.

The leaves in the forest rustled and it was a perfect day in the small town of Curtis.The pillory and gallows were brand new, not yet weathered by the elements, and the faint smell of yellow cedar mixed with the sweet aroma of pine, so it really did feel like we were closer to God. Channing Lovelace, though, would not stop her crying.

Mr. Clemence the School Teacher was trapped like a fat oily pig, hanging by bloodied wrists from a rope attached to the shaming post, his half naked body raw red in the sun, and striped with bloody welts where I’d lashed him twelve times with the hawthorn scourge. Judging by his soiled haunches, which shuddered with the strain, neither standing nor squatting, he was in great distress, but his face was unrepentant purple, his eyes bulged. His skin was covered in ticks and flies.

At fourteen years of age, I was the oldest child in the small school, and as such, recognized as the senior-most member of the community by the Crusaders. Once the flag had been raised, I invited Joan to lead the pledge of allegiance, but she was inspired by a divine benevolence that caused mumbles of approval among the villagers, and an inarticulate yelp from the town Clerk.

“We are not monsters,” said Joan. “Release the prisoner, and let’s see if he is reformed.”

For a moment I thought I’d gone too far; had I misinterpreted the Handbook?

“We will give him a chance to renounce his wicked ways.”

And grant him absolution? This might be wise, but it put me in a potentially dangerous and isolated position.

My mother and father were hiding near the back of the assembled audience. My mother would not look me directly in the eye, and my father, who’d hidden overnight in the barn with the animals, was bent double, as if sharing Mr. Clemence’s shame. If Clemence was redeemed, I would be beaten like a dog and there would be nobody to protect me.

I was rescued by Channing Lovelace who foolishly broke the spell of uncertainty, ran from her assigned place in the front row of the standing audience, pulled from her head the blue shawl that covered her copper-red hair, and used it to wipe the blood and insects from Mr. Clemence body, and the filth from his legs, and in all respects, it was worse than if she had done nothing to aid the man because this small act of intended kindness seemed to fill Clemence with a resolve that sealed his doom, and that of Channing.

“Cowards, all of you!” said Clemence, pointing with a hand that shook and from which blood dropped on the grass. The tide turned in my favor, and into the silence I started the ceremony, in exact accordance with the Handbook.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag…” and the villagers joined me in full-throated conviction. Never had the Bellamy Salute been executed with such timing and alignment, albeit under the scrutiny of the fifty or so vigilant Crusaders. Days of rehearsal had gone into the execution of the Pledge. I stole a quick look at my parents, to see whether they were participating properly; they’d practiced the salute behind the barn in secret. Would father merely mouth the words, “under God”, and was his hand raised above the horizontal? Were his fingers close together? Was his palm facing the ground? There are a thousand ways to subvert, and I was trained in identifying each one of them. My parents were compliant, which I noted without satisfaction but with acceptance, because I knew they were not being truthful.

It was only five days since I’d spotted Mr. Clemence’s first act of defiance at school. Under the pretense of a cough, he raised his hand to his chest and patted his heart with his right hand like he was congested, when it would have been easy enough to raise his hand properly - the full Bellamy Salute - if only for a few seconds… that would have been enough in my mind… it’s not like I’m insensitive. The next day, second time around, my three besties were witnesses. Mr. Clemence had his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face like the sound of the Pledge was hurting his ears.It was a subtle thing, but I’ve studied the Bible, the Constitution and the Crusader’s Handbook, and I know subversion when I see it, and so did my buddies.

“With liberty and justice for all.”

My classmates and I took the Pledge very seriously, as we’d learned to do during our trip to the Nation’s Capital in the Spring. When we got back to Curtis and told the principal that we must incorporate the Bellamy Salute into the morning pledge, he’d been hesitant until the Children’s Crusade mobilized, and the consequences of disobedience were made clear. The principal and teachers could no longer defy the student council. In fact, to do so, would have been unlawful, and when I told Officer Rangely, deputy Sheriff, that the Curtis Town teachers were reluctant to adopt the Bellamy salute, he visited the Superintendent of Schools, who then issued the instructions that the Pledge must be executed “in accordance with the law”, noting that the Children were authorized to report non-compliance and take action when necessary.

We, the Children, in the small town of Curtis, at the end of the road through the woods, were judge and jury in all matters of allegiance: God, the family and Country.

“Mr. Clemence. I accuse you of sedition!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jannick!” said Clemence, with a sour face that flickered with impatience. He even raised his eyes to the ceiling, like I was a nuisance.

“Mr. Clemence, this is the second day in a row that you haven’t saluted the flag in the manner defined by the law.”

“The law is an ass!” said Clemence. The classroom went silent.

I’d never much liked old Clemence, he was petty about facts and figures, gave me failing grades, and held me back for detention when I’d done nothing wrong except quote from the Bible, or from the Children’s Handbook. Some people are just born dumb and stay ignorant out of choice.

“I’m reporting you to the Crusade,” I said, and you could have heard a pin drop in the classroom. Old Clemence went white as a sheet. Now the tables were turned, and I smirked.

“Oh, for God’s sake Jannick, you are wretched little toad, aren’t you? If it were up to me, I would give you a good hiding and wash your mouth with soap. You are a cruel and horrible child, without a conscience, as thick as two planks, and brainwashed by power-mad numbskulls and the crazy-ass moral majority. I feel sorry for your parents… and for the country! We’re being led into a dark age by idiots, bigots, and zealots… and stupid Children! It’s madness, like the Midwich Cuckoos or The Lord of the Flies…”

Cuckoos and Flies and Clockwork Oranges: Old Clemence jabbered nonsense, and I felt nothing but hatred for the old fart for making me sound like a fool. I am only fourteen years old, and big for my age, and Clemence crossed a line, and I had witnesses to that fact, and Officer Rangely was obliged to report Clemence to the Superintendent, and to formally inform the Children’s Crusade, which is what happened.

Officer Rangely placed Clemence under arrest. The town manager was instructed to erect the pillory, gallows, and gibbets, “in accordance with the Patriot’s Act of 2034”, and I was authorized to mete out provisional punishment as defined in the Children’s Handbook.

“The Northeast Brigade has been informed and will be here to make a final judgment within the week,” said Rangely. The Crusaders were coming to town, led by a Brigade leader called Joan, whose reputation for fervor preceded her.

Released from the shaming post, Clemence was unrepentant and stood like a complete ass in front of the gathering, lording over things like a superior, though he was half naked and looked like a wild beast. Meanwhile Channing Lovelace was sniveling and crying and neither she nor Clemence were paying the least attention to the flag or the pledge, and they were clinging to one another like babies, while others had done the right and proper thing, and saluted the flag. Channing Lovelace, Town Clerk, had joined Jonathan Clemence, School teacher, in the act of sedition.

“Screw you all, cowards and traitors, every last one of you” said Clemence, and his words seemed directed as much at his fellow villagers, and Rangely and Maude Greene, as they were at the Children’s Brigade. “This is an abhorrence, a travesty, a trip into the dark ages…”

Joan was unmoved and I saw in her pale blue eyes a cold and calculating firmness, which felt like a challenge. I was being tested, the law was being tested. Was I a true Crusader, or was I just a schoolboy playing the part of avenger? Would I just let Clemence drivel on, throwing accusations at his accusers?

I was moved to action, and jammed clods of grass and earth into his mouth until he was silent.

“Guilty as charged,” said Joan. “What do you think the punishment should be, Jannick Strauss?” It was an urge to go to an extreme and teach the Curtis townsfolk a lesson that would align them with the new order, eliminate dissent, forever and ever.

“Clemence and the woman?” I said, seeking confirmation.

“Justice must be done and seen to be done.”

Death by drowning appealed to me, and I knew from the Crusader’s Handbook that I could bind Clemence and his girlfriend, Lovelace, face to face together in ropes, and throw them into the lake, coitus interruptus; they’d obviously had knowledge of one another, and I was eager to see a naked woman in real life, having only seen explanatory diagrams in the Handbook. I was assisted in my task by some of the Crusaders, who close-up, impressed me with their blank acceptance of the grim task, and which steeled my will.

We hauled at the rope and dragged the drowned bodies from the muddy lake and suspended the pale blue-white corpses in the big iron cage that hung from the gallows, where Clemence and Lovelace seemed locked in carnal but deadly embrace, and it was obvious in the terrible ugliness to any observer that they were guilty, lacking any beauty or innocence in their vacant eyes and deathly rictus.

Joan and the Crusaders left as they came, in silence, penitents, weighed with the burden of witness, and as I watched the Children disappear into the woods, I realized, with a sudden shiver that I was now alone and in danger. Though the townsfolk had by the onset of dusk returned to their homes, there was a surliness about their manner, and more than a few unpleasant glares were directed at me, as if I were responsible for what had happened, not the two sinners. Maude Green folded the flag. My parents slouched away. My schoolmates stood at the edge of the lake and skipped stones across the water. Officer Rangely left town in his patrol car, and I followed the Children into the forest.