William Wharton - Franky Furbo

‘By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I am a vegetarian; it seems very unfoxlike, but it is my preference. If you want meat while you are here, I can obtain some for you.’

‘To be honest, if you cook vegetables and eggs like this all the time, I won’t need meat, Franky. Also, I hardly notice you’re a fox anymore, so you don’t need to do anything about that either.’

I’d practically forgotten I was sitting there on the edge of a bed, at a table, eating cooked eggs, potatoes, carrots and homemade bread with someone who looks like a gigantic fox. Perhaps Franky Furbo has entered my mind to make me more comfortable. No, I don’t think he’d do that without telling me.

But then, right there, he actually does it. As I watch, he gradually changes: his fur disappears, his muzzle shortens, his arms and legs thicken, and he’s practically a human. There’s still something foxlike about him, but this is probably because I know he’s a fox. A stranger would only think he was a slightly thinner-than-usual human.

‘This is amazing, Franky. I wouldn’t have believed it. And are you little, the way we are?’

‘Of course; if I made myself the size of a human I wouldn’t fit in my own house.’

His nose wiggles and he begins eating. Franky stays in his human form for the rest of the meal. He says tomorrow he will work with me and try to help me get out of bed and walk around.

‘You need to regain some tone in your muscles and loosen up the area where I repaired those vertebrae. Now I think you should slide back in bed, stretch out and try to sleep. Your body has been through much and needs all the rest it can get.’

He gathers up our dishes from the table and carries them downstairs. I realize more than just my body has been through much; I definitely need rest. My brain feels as if it’s sizzling from so many new thoughts.

Two days later, Franky does the same thing to the mind of Wilhelm he’d done with mine. When he’s finished, Franky leaves us alone. Wilhelm starts talking to me in English. His eyes are wide; his face white.

‘But I speak with your voice, the voice you use when you speak English. I know all about you as if we were brothers. How can this be?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Franky Furbo. He’s the one who can perform this miracle. I think only he can know.’

Now we talk easily. Wilhelm is less scared, more willing to believe. At first, we avoid the situation under which we met. Me sliding out on the bridge, his sergeant and he underneath waiting for me. We switch back and forth from English to German, at first, but then he begins speaking German and I speak English. We understand each other perfectly, and, at the same time, we feel like ourselves speaking our own languages.

It turns out they’d seen me from the time I stepped out of the stream. I told him about Stan up on the hill. They hadn’t seen him. I make the motions of the bombs over my head and go ‘Boom Boom’ again. He remembers and I tell him what I was trying to do. We both get to laughing. We laugh the hardest when we talk about my grabbing his rifle in the middle of the bombardment when we were being killed.

‘I thought you were really crazy then, William. First you’re waving your hands over your head going “Boom Boom”, then you take the rifle when we both know we’re going to be killed, anyway.’

He tells me about his experience in the war, how he wouldn’t have been too disappointed if I had captured him. He says his sergeant was a very hard man and I’m lucky he didn’t kill me. He only saved my life because he thought some officer might want to interrogate me. The Germans knew there was going to be an attack soon but didn’t know where it would be. I told him I’d been looking for a way to get captured since Palermo. It turned out we’d been in the same area several times in the battle up the Italian peninsula. We agree we’re both glad to be out of it.

We’re also curious about what’s happening to us. We keep reassuring each other we aren’t crazy. Two people couldn’t be crazy about the same situation at the same time, could

they? There’s only one thing to do and that’s wait to see what happens. He wants very badly to get some message to his wife, Riki, so she will know he is all right, because he knows the sergeant will report him dead or captured. I suggest he ask Franky when we see him again about the possibility of getting word to her.

During the next days, both Wilhelm and I start getting out of bed and exercising. Franky has individual exercises for each of us to help us gain our strength. He also has different potions and medicines he gives us along with our food. We eat only vegetarian food and Wilhelm says he wants meat, so, at first, Franky brings him chicken, steaks, roasts – things like that. But Franky is a good cook and likes to eat. The way he prepares the vegetarian meals for us is so tasty, the meat Wilhelm’s eating begins to look like animal food.

After about two weeks, Wilhelm shifts over to vegetarian food with us. Once in a while he’ll have a Wiener schnitzel, but the main part of his food is vegetables. Franky has all kinds of spices he adds to the vegetables, so it’s hard to tell them from meat sometimes.

He says this is one thing from his fox background that has stayed – he really enjoys eating; but he can’t justify killing animals, especially because he can talk to them.

We have many conversations about ourselves. It is pleasant sharing our ideas, our experiences. Franky does manage to get a message to Wilhelm’s wife, and even brings a letter to him after a few days, written in what Wilhelm recognizes as her handwriting. She says she is well and staying with her family in the country. She tells him his mother and sister are well, also. She was very surprised to find his letter in her mailbox, even without a stamp or a Wehrmacht seal, because how could Wilhelm know where she is, that she is staying with her mother?

But Wilhelm is even more surprised. How could Franky deliver the letter and bring back an answer in only two days? It isn’t possible. Franky only wrinkles his nose, which I now begin to suspect is his way of smiling. I’m ready to believe anything, but Wilhelm has a harder time with believing. It’s not his way; he always wants to know things.

Finally we’re both in such good condition, it isn’t necessary for us to stay in bed. I don’t know where our uniforms are. We are both wearing blue pajamas.

One morning Franky comes in with clothes for us. They are not our uniforms; at the same time they aren’t regular clothes. There is a jacket, or jerkin, which slips over our heads, and trousers almost like knickerbockers, only tighter. There are heavy socks and light leather boots. There’s a wide leather belt to go over the shirt and to help hold up the trousers. He also has brought us light blue underwear, three pair each, the same color as our pajamas. I can’t help wondering where he gets these things, but I’m too embarrassed to ask. I see he no longer wears his white coat but is wearing the same kind of clothes himself.

We put on the costumes. There is also a hat. The clothes are all the colors of the forest, different greens and browns. The hat is dark green, pointed front and back like the kind of hat we used to make from old newspapers at the orphanage. I must say, we look fine in our new costumes, a bit like Robin Hood’s forest rangers, but Wilhelm seems worried. Franky twitches his nose.

‘I know, Wilhelm. You are worried because you are out of uniform and it is against the German military laws for a soldier to wear any other clothes. But your other uniform was so dirty. When you leave, you may have it back. In the meantime, if you want, I can make it so you will be invisible to anybody but William or myself. Please don’t worry so much.’