Capella Valley's First Fireworks

Capella Valley's First Fireworks
 
By Kenword

A flare was tripped at the outer line of camp Eagle’s defenses and at the same time a flare shot up from a mortar mounted two bunkers down. Derrick pressed his body between the folds of the sand bags and watched the perimeter. A Viper gunship accelerated into the flare’s eerie light and flooded the grounds around the trip flare with a spotlight. A burst from the helicopter’s machine guns sent tracer bullets searing into the earth a hundred yards from Derrick’s guard post and a sense of security washed over his tense muscles and hyper vigilant mind.

As he relaxed he patted the recent letter from Sheila Ellison in his breast pocket and thought of how he had become her love and how much he loved her. He was just a kid then, bound to his family’s working farm. Condemned since he was three years old to be a valley farm boy, he had never seen fireworks. The news the spring of 1965 was that for the first time in the history of Capella Valley, a big display was planned at the newly created Coyote Lake.

The Mosely family never celebrated Independence Day. “We need the day to do everything we don't get done on Sundays,” his pap would say, “The next time that Independence day falls on a Sunday, we can celebrate it then.” His older brother Darren would protest and begin the day working about half speed, really ticked off with the old man. The year before Independence Day fell on a Sunday, Darren was shipped to Viet Nam. Like many of the families who had lost sons to the war, it dampened the Patriotic Zeal for a real July 4th Celebration.

But in 1965, with the 4th of July falling on a Sunday, the banked funds, saved from twelve years of simple Independence Day shows, was unleashed to purchase tons of fireworks and supplies for a world class hoedown.

All through the month of June, Sheila Ellison had grown merciless in her flirting with Derrick. Every time he looked up during study hall, she would be starring at him with a brilliant smile. In the halls between classes she would slip to his side and hook her arm around his, as though they were close friends. Her eyes would widen so that the two icy blue pools of light would turn violet as Derrick was drawn to soak in their beauty and charm.

Derrick was not fully immune, but he wasn't about to give Sheila cause to think of him as more than a friend either. She was nearly seventeen,and seemed too keen on being a Mrs. something or other, and it wasn't clear if she was picking and choosing carefully or just out to get married.

In the Roosevelt High School parking lot Sheila left her girl friends to meet Derrick at his truck. She put her books down on the running board of his 1942 Dodge heap and pouted. “You haven't even offered to give me a ride home once this year?” Her slender arms were folded across the front of her pink angora sweater. She wore a white scarf around her neck and her white skirt was just level with her knees. Derrick did not look to see if she was play acting.

“So, get in,” he said, “I'm on my way home now.”

Derrick pulled out the choke, stomped on the accelerator five times and turned the ignition key to the truck. The motor was slow to respond to the churning starter. He held his breath as smoke and sparks blew out of the exhaust pipe with a loud pop as the engine came to life.

The truck lurched as the loose clutch popped the lowest gear into the drive line. Sheila bounced on the front seat, not accustomed to riding in something so vintage. It took all of her strength and patience to will her delicate features to keep their composure as the Dodge beat its way up the street.

“Do you remember when we were in the square dance club several falls ago?” she said, her voice barely audible above the trucks rattling. “I remember it. You were so dashing and a real good dancer too. I miss those Friday night club meetings don't you.?”

With virtually no television reception and the golden age of radio dead, there wasn't much to do on the long cold winter evenings on the farms. The Mosely family's whole social life outside of the Valley Christian Church, was centered around the Capella Valley Twirlers square dance club.

Derrick bit his lip. His concentration was on getting the gears to shift smoothly. But he nodded at Sheila with a grunt between pursed lips.

“The Fourth of July parties are on Sunday this year. I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind you taking a day away from the farm. Especially for something like the square dance. You should think about going.”

Derrick felt her flutter like a pink zinnia in a summer breeze. No bouncing truck would deter her from her obvious mission. He had to admire her cool composure while riding in his pap's death trap. At the four way stop where East Valley Road intersected with Road B, Derrick looked at Sheila for the first time since their ride began. Her hair was undone, flipped onto one side of her face, the rest, was just wild strands of honey blond going every direction. Her white scarf was hanging loose around her neck and the white skirt was bunched and wrinkled where her hands had been worrying the fabric.

Derrick's heart was softened by what he saw now in Sheila. Before he released the clutch to make his left hand turn onto their road, he cleared his throat and smiled.

“You know Sheila, I have been thinking. My pap will probably let me go to this year's Independence Day Celebration, since its on a Sunday. Would you like to go with me?”

Her opal eyes widened and seemed to glare and flirt with Derrick all at the same time.

“Yes,” Sheila said, her voice husky and proud, “ Of course I'd love to go with you Derrick.”

Pap worked Derrick like a Kentucky Mule, from the last day of school until the Fourth of July.

“I'm proud of you son,” Mr. Mosely said, as he gave Derrick the keys to the truck and the whole Sunday off, “Its not been easy with your brother away to the war. I just want you to know you've done the work of two men and your ma and I appreciate it a lot.”

“You have a lot of fun today Derrick,” said his mother, “And say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Ellison from us. They sure are nice folks.”

From the moment Derrick said “hi” to Mr. and Mrs. Ellison he was being swept away by Sheila and her fast track to the altar.

“You're so strong” she said more than a dozen times. “You're so handsome,” she said a dozen times or more. All of the time pressing her rapidly maturing body against him with so much abandon that his breath would leave him at crucial moments through out the day. He ached with a desire that confused his head, heart and soul. It wasn't a fair fight and Derrick knew that resistance was futile.

The dancing was his only relief from Sheila's onslaught. She was restrained by the square dance caller who was the only one who could bring them together and even then there was an ancient propriety that kept the dancers from being too familiar with each other.

The Independence Day Hoedown ended at 9 o'clock so that the celebrants could get to the lake to get their spots for the promised firework's display.

Derrick parked the truck with the bed facing the water. He broke open the three bales of hay in the back so that they could lay back and look up at the stars. Sheila made herself comfortable.

“You know my mother says you're going to be a farmer for the rest of your life. Is that what you really want to do?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Derrick said, wanting to clear his head. Somehow Sheila had taken on a vanilla blended with fresh clean straw fragrance.

“Well my father says he would be glad to give you a place in his firm when he goes back to San Francisco next year. You could go to school at the university and work for him. Wouldn't that be cool?”

“Honestly Sheila I don't see myself going to school after I graduate here. I will probably join up and get some skill in the Army. I don't know about San Francisco and all of that.”

Sheila looked momentarily heart broken, but she knew the way to win an argument. She pulled him into her and they kissed. The time went by slowly as their lips moved to an inner song that each soul played for the other. Vicious thumps were heard from all around the lake shore as rockets were launched into the night. The explosions rocked the truck and Sheila screamed with the shock of enormous detonations. The pyro technicians, working from a confusing set of instructions, were not concerned about the timing or the proper aim of hundreds of rockets. They went up ten and twenty at a time, some falling short of Coyote Lake, spiraling down toward the beach where they exploded just a few yards from Derrick's truck.

Derrick jumped into the cab as showers of sparks came close to the straw bed and the sweet bundle of pink Sheila he was committed to save. When the starter would not ignite the engine, he grabbed a horse blanket from behind the seat. Sheila jumped into his arms and they both fell under the cover of the horse blanket as sparks lit up the dry straw in the truck bed.

“We better run for it,” Derrick shouted. She was already to her feet and joined Derrick in a full sprint to the ridge. The pick up was engulfed in flames and exploded as the gas tank ignited with a deafening blast. For a few moments the flaring fireworks were dimmed in the white hot laser lights, as the ancient Dodge turned to molten steel.

Sheila began laughing as she stumbled up the ridge two hundred yards away from the beach. Derrick laughed too as he held Sheila close, not sure how pap was going to take the news that the family truck had burned to the ground.

Sheila never again worried about Derrick being a farmer. She easily accepted what became his complete devotion to her. He came to love the passionate pink zinnia of his dreams. “I'm going to love you forever,” Sheila said on their last night together.
There kisses and petting went on for hours. “You are my precious zinnia, and when I get back we'll never be apart again,” Derrick said, “I'll be home before you know it.”

Now, three thousand miles from home, the flares reminded him of his first fireworks show. As he lay still he heard the distinct thump thump of shells going into a mortar tube. Just as he had known to jump from the Mosely pick up, he instinctively knew to throw himself into the bunker. To mortar shells blew away the sand bags from where he had been lying. He was thrown by the force of the explosions into the battlement where his 60 caliber machine gun was mounted and ready to fire. His his hands locked on the powerful weapon and he opened fire. “I'll be home before you know it, Sheila,” he said. “I'll be home before you know it.”