Sam and GI Joe


The following story came to me from St. Louis where seven-year-old Sam lives.

“I woke up at the bottom of a pile of discards. The touch of a woman’s hand woke me when she grabbed and hauled me to a rescue cart. I would survive. I may have lost contact with my buddies from the past, but that day I had hope for the future.

“She took my picture and searched the Internet for someone with my name. Captain Brad Armbruster, Ace GI Joe. She read information regarding the scar on my face which I would never have told her. I don’t like to talk about my past battles.”

“A charming child leaned over her shoulder, looked at me and touched my buzz haircut. ‘It’s fuzzy. He looks really old.’

“’He does?’ the lady said looking at me thoughtfully. She tucked me into her car, took me home and forgot about me. For a couple weeks, I drifted in and out of awareness until she lifted me, ‘It’s time you met Sam. He will know what you need.’

“Sam. A good solid, name for a fellow warrior. Dressed for combat in my black boots, olive green jump suit and dog tags, I settled back to meet Sam. The moment that woman handed me to Sam, I felt life flowing through me. Sam had plans for me.

“First, he assessed me, ‘He has burns. He needs a shower.’ He pulled off my boots, stripped off my jump suit and found my dog tags. ‘What are these, Grandma?’ he asked the woman.

“’Dog tags. Soldiers have to wear them all the time in case they are injured or killed so the people who find them know who the person is. They have his name and rank on it.’

“’Oh,’ he bent over and studied the tags. ‘It says his name is Brad. He’s a Captain.’

“’He looked at my jump suit.’

“’What does Ace mean?’

“’The best, the top of the line.’

“’He’s the best? Ace,’ he smiled proudly. ‘And he has abs,’ he announced as proud of them as I was.

That Sam, he kept me busy all day. He said because of my burns, I needed to take a shower. I went in and out of the shower all day. He took my clothes off and pulled them on maybe a dozen times that first day. He studied the holes in my feet and covered them up with my boots.

“’He needs a breathing mask,’ Sam repeatedly told his grandmother.

“’Yes, he does,’ she agreed, but she didn’t do anything. Not one thing. Sam did it all. He went over to his supply drawer, pulled out brown pipe cleaners and created the breathing mask I needed for when I flew high in a plane.

“’He is supposed to have a knife in this pocket,’ he said pointing to the loop on the cuff of my jumpsuit.

“’Yes, that’s for a knife,’ she agreed.

Sam went to the supply cupboard. He knew I could not go into combat without a knife. He pulled out grey and white pipe cleaners, twisted the white into a point and wrapped a bit of gray pipe cleaner to form a handle. He knew that my hands itched to hold a weapon. He found a sword and a small GI Joe Jeep he knew must be mine. It bore my name.

“The lady rescued me from the discards but Sam gave me a renewed purpose with showers, weapons and a breathing mask. With his imagination, that boy made me real again. Thank you, Sam. You’re the best.”


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