Fred Forges On

Fred Forges On

Private Frederick O'Reilly stared at the familiar painting in the book. He was surprised to see the very same picture that was hanging on the wall of his parlor back in his far away South Dakota home here in front of him. What was it doing in a book full of world maps? Unlike other guys in this South Carolina camp who were out partying, he was spending a rare day off in the library researching the lands he thought he might be sent to when his soldier training was completed. Some of the maps showed empires and the royalty of those empires.

Great Britain. That one he was fairly familiar with. America had wrestled away their independence from England more than a century before. They still owned lands all over some of which he thought he might have to fight in. At least this time they were on the same side. The Allies.

Germany. The big trouble maker. Part of the Central Powers. They used submarines called u-boats that travel underwater and attack ships out on the ocean. How does anyone fight that? They also hide in trenches in the ground and attack. That kind of warfare he was training for. Chances are he would be on the front lines there.

The Ottoman Empire. This poor farm boy had never heard of these fierce looking people. They wore turbans on their heads and carried machetes. He wouldn't want to run across one of them in the dark - or in the daylight for that matter!

Austria-Hungary Empire. Displayed the mysterious painting he recognized. It named the beautiful woman as an Archduchess. He didn't understand all those titles but that's pretty high! Possibly one step down from being a queen! This is the same woman his mother, Leona, called her grandmother!

Two years ago he'd confronted his hard-working mother to tell him the truth as to why he felt he didn't fit in with his own family. The man he had called “Pa” all his life had the flaming red hair typical of Irishmen. All his four brothers sported red hair also. His spunky little sister wore her soft reddish-gold hair in long curls. Even the little baby boy that died at three months old had wispy reddish fuzz. His very fair mother only admitted she'd fallen in love with a dark-haired nobleman from Greece when she was very young and dark-haired Fred was the result of that unapproved affair. Her family disowned her. Patrick, an Irish seaman, rescued her and the child from poor conditions and they immigrated to the United States of America.

But top of the line royalty from Austria! Yes, the regal woman in the photograph was dressed very fancy. High Royalty! Almost a Queen! That's the life his mother gave up? Now she was an overworked mother of six and the family was ever growing. He gave up blacksmith drudgery on his boss' ranch and got in this army trying to make a better life for himself so he could hire some help for his long suffering mother. He could never hope to raise her to the level of high royalty from which she came.

Oh, his poor mother! Now, wait. If she was once a royal princess does that make him a prince? She'd said the man that sired him was a nobleman. That's what made him different or so he thought. But isn't she raising a whole pack of red-headed princes with blue blood, too, if she's the one with royal blood? All this linage is important in some places but here in the USA? He didn't know how that works. All men are equal, right? They'll still happily send him to the front lines to die for his country.

Hold on a minute! If commanders knew he came from enemy royal blood would they even let him fight or lock him up as a spy or something? This could get complicated. Should he tell anyone higher up? Maybe they would stand him up in front of a firing squad for all he knew.

“Private!” Boomed a voice behind him.

Frederick knocked over his chair rushing to stand at attention and salute the uniformed voice. Uh, oh, what did that insignia mean again? So many had been crammed into their poor brains he had to get it right or face reprimand. “Sir, Yes, Sir. Private O'Reilly, Sir.” Frederick scrambled to set the chair up straight while showing proper respect.

“At ease, Private. I was surprised to see someone here looking over these maps. Shouldn't you be out partying like all the others? Don't sergeants drill you with enough information through the week?”

“Sir, Yes, Sir. I mean, er...” The officer before him was all creased uniform upon creased uniform. He carried his hat under his arm. Dark hair slicked back. Was that humor in his slightly crinkled eyes?

“Captain. Captain Van Leer.” He patted the patch on his sleeve. “It takes a while to get all these emblems straight, huh? This extra mark means I'm with the engineers. I'm here doing some recruiting for my team. Don't worry. You'll soon get used to them and it will become second nature. Especially out in the field when trying to figure out who's in charge. You're off duty now so I won't hold it against you. Really. You can relax a bit and show me what has you so engrossed in that atlas. I need to do some research myself with the maps.”

“A picture of a painting, Sir.”

“Ah, I see. Very beautiful. Guess guys your age like to look at any beautiful woman.”

“Ah, no, Sir. Uh, you see, Sir. I have a portrait of this same painting in my parlor at home. I was surprised to find it here. She is my great-grandmother, Sir.”

“What! How is that possible? Says here she was an Archduchess of Austria-Hungary. Aren't you American born? Maybe there's only a resemblance.”

''No, Sir. It's the same portrait. My mother says it's her grandmother. She carried it across the ocean when we immigrated here. I was maybe two or three.”

“Why, Son. That would mean you are a prince.”

“Does that mean I couldn't stay in this army? I was hoping to make a better life for my mother.”

“She is still living in the US?”

“She says her family disowned her because of me. Now she is an overworked mother of six. My step-father tries hard but can never get ahead working on land owned by someone else. I only want to hire her some help. I wasn't making enough working at the forge.”

“That's very honorable, Private.” The captain paused rubbing his squared chin.

Frederick worried he'd said something that would doom his army career.

“You say you manned a forge?”

“Sir, Yes, Sir. For the last three years, Sir.”

“That means you are pretty good at shaping and building equipment. Right?”

“Like farm machinery, tools, farrier gear, whatever came up or fell apart.”

“You sound exactly like the kind of skilled worker we need in our corp of engineers, Son. I may have to pull some favors to make it happen but I'll see if I can get you transferred to my division. After you finish basic training here, you'd be sent to Fort Devens in Massachusetts for specialized training. You'll be building tanks, motorized vehicles, bridges and whatever else can be imagined to support the war effort. It means you won't be shooting at all your relatives on the other side which I imagine may have concerned you. You'll see very little of combat action. Hope that won't disappoint you too much. But you'll also be at a slightly higher pay scale which might mean you can help your mother more. How does that sound?”

“Like I jumped from one forge into another! Thank you, Sir!”