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Anger Against the Flags

by Doug Frey

111 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0339; ISBN 1-55212-937-3; US$15.00, C$17.50, EUR12.50, £9.00

Family loses farm and moves to Winnipeg where boy gets into police trouble. Moves to Grande Prarie where he gets involved with theft of War Games flags from arrogant Army Cadets from their nearby base.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book Declaration A long time ago during our father's generation a group of Scouts out camping decided to invade the domain of the nearby Army Cadet camp during their war games and absconded with those prizes of the flags that I incorporated in my story with the fictitious second set of flags. Dedication I dedicate this book to Andy May who told me the story of the first set of stolen flags, and to David Bertram, my friend in the Fifth Avenue Cub Pack in Medicince hat, Alberta, who, if we had lived in Grande Prairie then, might have been part of those Scouts.

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About the Author Born in Edmonton, Alberta, in 1940 to a Second World War naval veteran of the Murmansk Run, and his wife, I grew up there, in Medicine Hat and in Winnipeg before settling down in Kelowna in the mid 1908's where I set up and still operate the sale and trade of books at Pocket Book Shanty at 1852 Bylands Road on the Westside. Education - wise, I studied economics and sociology at the University of Manitoba. In recreational endeavors, I excelled in chess and badminton, but not well enough to win a major tournament. As a child, I was a Cub and Scout, and much later served as a Cub leader for a decade. The closest I ever got to belonging to the armed forces was a brief stint as an air force cadet. Now, the only organization I belong to is the Westbank Lions Club. As for hobbies, I collect books, tape movies, listen to the War Years' Big Band music and bicycle. This is my first book to be published out of the many I have written. Playing Cowboys and Indians as a child stirred by imagination to want to write and reading a great many books form other authors nurtured my belief that I could write better than them. My first book took ten years to write, but since then I have written at least one book a year.

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Sample Excerpt

... "What if they catch us?"

"I don't know. Turn us over to the police, I suppose."

"Have you ever been there?"

"During their once a year open house during the fall."

"What's it like?"

"A little town. The barracks are three stories high with a lot of rooms for the cadets to sleep in. There's a place for them to eat, really a big hall, across the field from the barracks. Beside it is the building with the bowling alley, inside swimming pool, confectionary, and dance hall. That's about it."

"Doesn't sound too exciting."

"Believe me, it isn't."

"Then, let's just go home. I don't think I want to go in there."

"I'm with you."

Unknown to them, two cadets armed with binoculars, were watching them from the games building. Ken felt sure he knew at least one of the boys, information he imparted to his friend, Harvey.

"That is Bobby, Harv."

"So?" He didn't care who either was, as long as they didn't violate the grounds while he and Ken acted as pseudo security, having been bored with everything else.

"Bobby's friend beat up Rick and I'm sure that's the kid!"

"Big deal!"

"It is! I promised him I'd get him!"

"For your brat of a brother?"

"Why not?" Ken leaned back to smile. "It is entertaining."

Harvey wondered about this. "What are you getting at?"

"Think the cycles the officers use are gassed up?"

"They should be. They'll be used soon enough."

"Why don't we use them?"

"What for?"

"Teaching those kids a lesson."

Harvey caught on. "Maybe---"

"It will be fun!"

"All right!"

Leaving the building, they walked around to its side where two dirt bikes that the officers used for communication purposes during the mock wars resided. The bikes were ready to go.

"Ever rode one before?" asked Harvey as he kicked his into life.

"No. But it shouldn't be much harder than a car." His he kicked into life.

"You'll be surprised!" As stand-in officer, harvey had on occasion used one of these. One time he remembered one enterprising cadet getting through the lines to plaster the whole officer cammand and he had to pull the men back in orderly retreat to avoid losing the whole army just because he happened to be the only cadet anywhere near the command center at the time. He had been recognized with his stripes for it.

"Let's go!" Ken shot away and instantly felt the wind resistence drag his body backwards sending his vehicle weaving.

Harvey stayed far enough back to avoid crashing into the errant cycle. He knew it was of no use trying to shout corrections to Ken because he would never hear them; better he learned for himself. Halfway down the road, he could see straightening out of the other dirt bike.

The noise of the approaching engines enticed the boys to look behind them as they were mosying back towards the river.

"Who are they?" Brian asked with quaint curiosity since they were too far away to be anything but a passing fancy.

"Cadets." He had never seen acting like this when he hadn't even been inside their compound. That sort of thing only happened to trespassers of which he had heard the stories of security using those bikes to bowl over intruders until they were back on their side of the wire. 'Why now?' he foreboded. They were getting near the gate.

"Brian!" Bobby dreaded saying this. "Run!"

"What?"

"Run, Brian!" Bobby geared into fast/

Bobby, glancing back behind him, saw the bikers open the gate and knew they were in for trouble. "Make for the swamp, Brian!" His breathing was becoming laboured, for he wasn't used to running long distances, and they had a ways to go. "Brian! Zig Zag! Stay away from the wheels!"

Ken directed his dirt bike right for Brian, who changed direction nearly too late. As it was, the cycle zoomed by only to turn further up and come back. Brian stopped in strange wonderment.

"Brian!" Bobby thought this was the end for his friend was taking no evasive action at all and he couldn't do a thing to help him but stand transfixed.

Brian thought it queer the bike seemed to be coming in slow motion like the train he used to watch on the tracks near his Manitoba farm. Nothing else came to him, just that loud motor. He seemed to have lots of time to sidestep it, but in reality did so with only seconds to spare.

Harvey, coming in on Bobby, watched in horror as they boy stood there doing nothing, and suddenly the game lost meaning as he fantasized running this little kid, who had done nothing bad to him, over. He pulled on his wheel to change direction, and slid by the boy, merely clipping him on his shoulder. Still, it was enough to send him tumbling.

Once past, Brian knew the cycle would be a while before coming back, giving him seconds to find his friend, and there he was on the ground after being hit.

"Bobby!"

He ran towards him. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ken's bike coming back and knew this had to be it. He stopped, faced the bike, waited until the last second before stepping aside and this time when he roared past, Bobby launched himself like a blocker, connecting with the boy's leg that bounced him off to hit heavily on the ground. The contact de-equilibriumized Ken putting him into a fatal wobble that brought the wheel sideways ending the forward motion which send the propulsion of the rear onwards over the front wheel. Ken was fortunate to fall free.

Brian, seeing the threat ended from the now dazed Ken, ran to Bobby where he knelt beside him. "You all right, Bobby?"

Bobby shook his head. "I think so."

"We better go."

They saw the other bicyclist had stopped not far from them.

"Why?" asked Brian.

"Fun!" came back the answer.

Brian couldn't understand the fun of running other people down. Without saying anything more, he helped his friend to his feet.

Tears were welling into Bobby's eyes. "It hurts!" he complained. He cried softly.

Brian looked back at Harvey with eyes that said, 'See?' and saw the other's were averted.

"Come on, Bobby."

Bobby clasped his pained left arm as he hunched over during their walk to the bridge.

Harvey kick standed the bike to go over to the sprawled Ken, who was just coming to his senses.

"Get them, Harvey?" Ken asked first.

Increduously, Harvey didn't know how to answer. At last he just said, "It was just a game!"

Ken gnashed his teeth. "I want them dead!" No matter if it was the boy that beat up Rick any more. That boy had been associated with Bobby and now he had Bobby with this other boy, they both had become guilty. Bobby and anyone would be guilty now ...

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Catalogue Information

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