The summer of 1960 becomes a turning point in the life of a 19 year Airman with his arrival at his first duty station at Amarillo Air Force Base. Nicknamed Yogi by his friends, the young Airman struggles to adapt to the vast openness of the Texas Panhandle and the communal life of a barracks.

The craving in his spirit for the beautiful massive live oaks and peaceful bayous of his native Louisiana, finds a respite when a student nurse comes into his life. Drawn into the secret and trouble world of his beautiful girl, Yogi faces personal and moral challenges which dwarf his dislike for the blowing wind and bleak winter of the Panhandle.

EXCERPT

“I won’t do it!” Bubba said with a frown on his face, while still holding his foot.

In a threatening manner, I raised the sledge hammer above his foot.

“I’ll break it, son-of-a-bitch, if you don’t,” I yelled looking down at him. My face was starting to turn as red as Earl’s had been earlier.

“All right! All right!” pleaded Bubba gritting his teeth.

“All right, what?” I shouted.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Allie . . . and I have a filthy, dirty mouth,” muttered Bubba.

As one last insult, I mashed Bubba’s ear with my boot before slinging the sledge hammer down the aisle to the rear of the store, where it crashed into some shovels and rakes, knocking them over.

Allie and I stepped over Bubba and walked out the store. For several moments, we sat in the truck as my anger subsided. When Bubba limped out onto the porch with John Roy and the other roosters, Allie opened the glove box and took out a pistol. Not knowing what else to do, I stepped on the accelerator as Allie fired two shots into the air. Gravel and dust flew forward as the old Ford shot through the parking lot backward. When I turned onto the Main Street and started out of town, the image of Allie holding the pistol caused me to chuckle even though she maintained a somber face. After several minutes, Allie glanced toward me and smiled. At that point, I suggested that she return the pistol to the glove box. Before doing so, Allie fired another shot out the window, which caused our laughter to turn into a rapturous guffaw and yells as we blazed a trail out of town.

Since Mr. Henry had not returned from Mr. Peterson’s home, Allie found the booklet for the windmill in the barn where her father stored some of the manuals for the other farm equipment. Even with the instruction book replacing the pitman arm, turned out to be more difficult than I first thought. After adjusting the mechanism for a short stroke and the new spring for the tail vane in place, the mill turned into the wind and began pumping. It took a minute or two before water started running into the trough below. On the ground, Allie expressed her approval by jumping and clapping her hands, while I did a jig on the platform.

With the wheel spinning to a clanking rhythm and a strong breeze blowing in my face, the ocean of green wheat in the distance magically transported me to the crow’s nest of an ancient sailing ship. For a moment
I became a mariner, perhaps Ishmael, himself, on the ill-fated Pequot.

An unsuspecting white cow in the distant pasture became a part of my fantasy world, causing me to call down to Allie.

“There she blows, Mr. Starbuck! That great white devil . . . Moby Dick!”

The wind shifted. The tail vane swung around almost hitting me in the head. “Yogi!” Allie called out. “Come down from there before you get hurt.”

Later that afternoon, Allie and I went horseback riding again. This time, we followed the creek, which bordered her father’s property and rode toward the iron bridge. Allie refused to ride all the way to the bridge.

Easter morning, I received a coffee-flavored kiss thirty minutes later than the previous mornings. While I sat in the bed, finishing off the cup,

Allie, still dressed in her pajamas, picked from the floor the pajama bottoms I had removed during the night. Before leaving the room, she gave me a quick kiss and patted my covered legs while encouraging me, “to get a move on, because her daddy was already dressed and ready to go.”

Thinking this would be the last such pleasure in my life for a while, I decided to finish the coffee in bed and make Mr. Henry wait. After placing the cup on the table near the bed, I slowly swaggered to the bathroom intending to shave. The large bath tub offered one last luxury unavailable on the Base, so I decided to indulge myself. With the bath over, I stood before the lavatory with a face covered with shaving cream, when I heard the bedroom door open.