CHAPTER 1
Today was their thirteenth birthday.
It was Saturday, June 21, 1947 and summer was off to a great start. Identical twins Jimmy and Billy McGee were upstairs in their spacious, attic bedroom of their parents' three-story home in Eugene, Mississippi. Both boys would have preferred to be outdoors playing baseball with their friends but the McGee family house rule was that birthdays were to be spent at home with the family. This year, however, Billy designed a plan that would allow them to see their friends. In order for it to work he and Jimmy needed to be upstairs in their bedroom. They would have to make enough noise to wake their toddler brother, whose bedroom was downstairs, directly across the hall from the attic door. If this happened, their mother would want them as far away from the house as possible.
Billy stared up from his bed at his five model fighter planes suspended at different lengths from the vaulted ceiling. He then looked over at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost noon. Their friend Skip would soon be showing up to perform his role in Billy's plan. Jimmy was relaxing in his bed reading one of his Detective comics. He was so absorbed in Batman and Robin's confrontation with the Catwoman that he didn't notice Billy's restlessness. But all of a sudden, Billy couldn't tolerate the silence any longer. He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and threw it hard across the room at Jimmy. Jimmy dropped his comic and blocked the shot with both hands and laughed. He returned the pillow with identical force; only his aim wasn't so fortunate. The pillow missed Billy by at least a foot and hit the lamp on the nightstand instead, almost knocking it off. The lamp made a loud rattling noise.
"Oh my gosh," Billy exclaimed. "You are so lucky you didn't hit my signed eight by ten photo of Babe Ruth!"
"Um, it's a copy Billy. He didn't actually sign it."
"It don't matter you knucklehead" Billy started in. "The point is," Billy raised his voice, "you could have broken it."
"Well, even if I had hit it and broken it, you could just as easily pick yourself up another one down at the Delta General."
"Nuh-uh! They sold the last one a week ago Jimmy. Besides, I wouldn't be the one headin' there to buy it since I wouldn't have been the one who broke it."
"I don't know why you're so riled up anyway Billy. If you hadn't thrown the pillow at me in the first place, we wouldn't even be havin' this conversation about your precious little photo."
"It's an eight by ten, Jimmy. It ain't little."
"It's a fake! Who cares if it's as big as Goliath?"
"Who cares?!" Billy was appalled. "Jimmy, you're the biggest Babe Ruth fan I know!"
Jimmy didn't respond.
"Well, anyway, you got horrible aim Jimmy. You couldn't hit me if I was a donkey's ass." Had Billy known their mother was across the hall from their open attic door; he would have chosen to whisper the obscenity.
Ellen McGee had just finished checking on little Jordan, who was still napping, when the profanity exploded. She stopped in her tracks and stuck her head up into the attic stairwell.
Jimmy laughed. "You are a donkey's—" he started to say.
"You both had best be watchin' your tongues," Ellen warned with a firm whisper.
Jimmy and Billy looked wide-eyed at one another.
Mrs. McGee looked young for her age of thirty-eight, especially considering sixteen and a half of those years were spent raising her children. During three and a half of those years (1941-1944), she essentially parented Rose, Jimmy and Billy by herself while Tom McGee had been overseas—first, with the 37th Engineer Battalion and later the 209th Engineer Combat Battalion. Ellen was a poised and gentle woman. She loved all four of her children dearly but she had no patience for foul language.
"And what was that noise all about?" Ellen wanted to know.
A slight pause was the boys' initial response. They looked at each other and then realized she must be talking about the rattling of the lamp. "Nothin'," they answered in unison.
"It was just my Ranger Rifle," Billy said. "It almost fell but I caught it."
"Uh-huh," Ellen doubted. "Just keep hushed. It took me long enough to get your little brother to sleep for the two of you to be makin' all that racket and wakin' him up."
"Yes ma'am," they answered.
"Thank Heavens you know how to fib. I'd be gettin' the switch if I'd have broke that lamp," Jimmy whispered. "Now all's you gotta do is learn how to watch your mouth," he laughed.
"Me?" Billy objected. "You curse all the time."
"Shh! Will you keep it down?"
"Why? The whole point is to make noise."
"Yeah, but not for you to tell the whole house that I curse," Jimmy clarified.
"Oh, sorry," Billy apologized. "I don't know why she's complainin' anyhow? The lamp didn't make that much noise."
"I think she just likes complainin'," concluded Jimmy.
"I think all moms do."
Jimmy got up and walked over to pick up Billy's pillow. Throughout their entire lives these identical twin brothers had always had one another's back. Even in their crib days, if one was hungry or thirsty or needed a change of diapers, it was often the other who made the announcement. Appearance-wise, there was not even a birthmark of a difference to distinguish the two boys, so Jimmy took it upon himself to make life easier for everyone by never leaving home without wearing his blue Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap. They each stood five feet tall, an average height for their age, and weighed one hundred pounds. They had their father's bright blue eyes and their mother's silky brown hair. Their faces were tan from spending most of their free time outdoors.
Personality-wise, James Thomas McGee and William Jefferson McGee were clearly individuals. Jimmy was named after his Great Uncle Jim, a decorated WWI veteran. The twins adored Uncle Jim because he had always treated them as adults. He also had an exceptional memory for details so story-telling time with Great Uncle Jim was always a treat!
Jimmy was exactly eleven minutes older than his brother and anyone who knew them, knew that. In his mind, that made him smarter than Billy, and so Jimmy was determined to show others how he used judgment and logic in everything he did. Jimmy was the quieter of the two. He was a thinker and always gave careful thought before making choices. Every day the twins had chores and Jimmy made sure his were done correctly the first time around to avoid being scolded and forced to do them again.
Named after nobody in particular, Billy was dynamically carefree and constantly craved adventure. Risk and spontaneity drove his persona. Once, when Billy was seven, and going through his "I wonder what would happen if I ..." stage, he nearly killed himself while testing out his envisioned flying abilities by jumping off the kitchen porch roof. He figured if the man from the comic book could do it, then why not give it a shot. So he painted a big red "S" on the front of one of his white T-shirts, tied a red tablecloth around his neck and jumped. Thank Heavens Mrs. McCrosky, from next door, was such a nosey neighbor. Eight weeks and zero chores later, Billy had fifty or more autographs on his cast and had come to the conclusion that the bragging rights he had reaped from his leap had been well worth its failed execution. Mrs. McCrosky had also been the first to witness flames coming out of the twins' older sister...
