Billy Don had gotten a graduation picture of Betty Lou along with his letter. It was stuck inside the envelope. I noticed it while I was reading and so after I finished my letter, curiosity got the better of me. “Let me see that picture of Betty, let’s see what all the fuss is about.” He reached in the letter envelope with a proud smile on his face and pulled out a small picture. It was a black and white school picture of a rather plain blonde in a checkered home made dress, with bouffant hair, and thick framed, black glasses. The frames on the glasses were the “cat’s eyes” designs that were so popular in the sixties. The top of them were replete with rows of rhinestone diamonds. I could barely see her eyes for the shiny stones. The glasses were just plain hideous looking. Down below the picture, it read: Betty Lou Richards and below that, Senior, Tulsa, High School 59-60. I gave the picture back to Billy Don. “Not bad biggun, not bad.” He grinned a satisfied and confident grin of agreement as if Betty Lou’s beauty was a given.

Our top barracks floor was a study in sociology. It was a microcosm of a small city. The northern blacks migrated to the far left end of the floor with Lincoln as their chieftain. The Mexicans and Puerto Ricans occupied the far right end with Sanchez being their mayor. Bleu and the few Cajun and redneck southern boys occupied the front left and Billy, myself, Hampton, Jacobs, Fields, Stoddard, and two other mid-westerners occupied the front right. Most of us kept to our areas unless someone asked you to come down and visit with them. You especially didn’t go down to Lincoln’s vicinity unless you had business, wanted to borrow money at one hundred percent interest or needed an ass kicking. However, everyone had to pass right by Lincoln’s rack to get to the latrine.

After we settled the best man situation Billy Don continued to moon at Betty’s latest picture. After a minute he got up and strolled towards the latrine still holding it in front of his eyes. As he walked by the black section Lincoln was standing by his bunk waiting. When Billy Don got within range, Lincoln reached out and cherry picked the picture out of his hand then held it out looking at it. “Hey, dat ain’t bad for a white girl, she look good from afar but far from good.” Lincoln mocked and grinned at Jackson. “Them some bad ass glasses she got on.” Billy just stood there waiting for him to finish. Lincoln put his hand down between his legs and cupped his genitals. “I could sho use me some of that white meat.” The tension coming from Billy was smoldering and palpable but he just smiled and gently took the picture out of Lincoln’s hand and slipped it in his fatigue jacket pocket. Lincoln and Jackson looked at each other and both chuckled enjoying the moment. Apparently this was Lincoln’s way of getting back at Billy for the fountain incident. Then out of nowhere, Billy Don punched Lincoln in the gut with a left and at the same time came from the ground up with a round house right catching him full in the mouth. It sent him from the barracks aisle all the way down the side of his bunk, and into the wall. Blood spurted as he hit the wall and slowly slid down it, momentarily addled. Jackson got big eyed and started around the rack with his fist doubled up. Billy Don looked at him and said, “Come on little porch monkey, keep coming, I got something for your ass too.” Jackson stopped in his tracks. Billy was a big guy and Jackson wasn’t use to working alone. In fact Jackson was too small to fight anyone by himself. Lincoln was still on the floor holding his mouth trying to shake off the blow. He looked up at Billy Don with a scowl then spit something out of his mouth. The object danced down the end of his rack and out into the barracks floor. I could see by the gleam it was the gold incisor cap he had flashed so many times. Lincoln held his mouth with one hand and reached inside of his knife pocket with the other.