The Red Flannel Rag

Brenda, crying hysterically. She was less than six weeks old and had been sleeping in a

crib next to their bed. Mom lit the lamp when she heard Brenda screaming and saw a

large rat jump out of the crib. Brenda was bleeding profusely from the back of her tiny

hand.

Mom and Dad frantically jumped out of bed and once they realized what had

happened, Mom grabbed the baby and stopped the bleeding while Dad put a heavy

board over a hole in the kitchen floor where the rat had come into the house. They

recovered from the horror and went back to bed. In a few minutes, the baby was

whimpering again because the rat had moved the heavy board and was back in her bed.

This time Dad placed a ten-gallon sour kraut jar upside down on top of the hole in the

floor and slid a board part of the way under the jar. The rat came in the third time and

awakened them as it struggled to get out of the ingenious trap. With the rat trapped,

Dad slid the board all the way under the jar and skillfully used it to choke the rat to

death.

Shortly after that horrible night, my dad was drafted into the army. He received

his call in June, 1944, immediately after the Normandy invasion, where thousands of

American soldiers lost their lives. He had to leave quickly as part of the replacement

army.

Suddenly my life was filled with fear. I was too young to understand what was

happening, but I knew it was bad. Mom tried to hide her tears from me, but I knew she

was crying all the time. She kept her back to me a lot. Dad was sad and paid extra

attention to us. He brought us little gifts and candy nearly every day when he came

home from work. I would wake up in the night and hear both Mom and Dad crying and

talking.

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