Walnut War

Scott hid behind the large back wheel of the Cockshutt forty. He palmed a green ball in his right hand as he surveyed the pile at his feet. He had sent his younger brother, Luke, to lure his older brother, Caleb, to the driveway just past the shop. Scott intended to initiate a walnut battle with his older brother and this time, he would have the upper hand.

 Just across the driveway from him was a huge walnut tree. Every year, that walnut tree dropped dozens if not hundreds of walnuts that didn’t get used for much other than ammunition. Walnuts drop from the tree as green balls that are just a little smaller than a tennis ball. The green outer layer eventually turns black and falls away from the hard shell of the walnut underneath. The shell could then be cracked allowing the meat of the nut to be removed for consumption. Most of the walnuts from that particular tree were never collected and cracked because no one had the time or the interest to take on such a project. Therefore, they were utilized as yet another outlet for the sibling rivalry that perpetually existed between the three brothers.

As Scott crouched in his place, awaiting his quarry, he relished the opportunity to get the upper hand for a change. As the second son in the family, he always seemed to be a day late and a dollar short. His older brother was stronger and smarter than Scott and usually came out on top in most rivalrous conflicts. 

Not today, Scott thought to himself. Today I’m going to come out on top.

No sooner had that thought played through his head than a green walnut landed with a thud on the gravel beside him. Scott stared at the walnut with wide eyes hoping against hope that it had simply dropped from the tree. The second and third walnuts hit the rusty rim of the tractor dashing his hopes.

“Doggonit!” Scott exclaimed as he scooped up an armful of ammo and made a break for a better position. “That little twerp betrayed me!”

As he turned in retreat he cast a glance over his shoulders and found his suspicions to be true. Caleb was making his way up the steep path beside the forty-foot silo, throwing walnuts as he climbed. Luke was stumbling behind his oldest brother with a burlap sack providing Caleb with the ammunition. Scott returned fire from the other side of the tractor as he shifted his position towards the sugar camp. He had set up several weapons caches at various sheltering points within range of Caleb’s probable approach. However, he had not expected Caleb to come from below. And he had not expected the older boy to have help.

The smell of walnuts and sweat stung his nostrils as he returned fire during his controlled retreat. A couple of walnuts found their marks leaving brownish yellow stains on the clothing of his opponents. Scott dove into the grassy area between the sugar camp and the trees, just east of the driveway and rolled head-over-heels until he slid to a stop right next to a pile of green and brown grenades. Against his better judgement, he stood and took aim. He let three projectiles fly in rapid succession before taking two center-mast. He dropped to the ground, feeling his chest instinctively. He pulled his hand away and looked at the stains on his fingers.

“This isn’t the end of me!” Scott cried with determination. “You ain’t seen the last of me yet!”

He scooped up two walnuts (possibly the vary two that had hit him) and sent them sailing. Both projectiles found their mark. Caleb and Luke cried out in mock anguish before returning fire. Walnuts passed each other in the air on the way to separate battle lines. Ammunition caches depleted as arms grew tired. The frequency and density of the walnut volleys decreased as the opposing forces worked to conserve energy and missiles. Finally, after a battle of the ages, all three boys dropped to the ground panting as their arms trembled and their lungs longed for oxygen.

After a few moments, Caleb called out to his brother across the driveway.

“What do you say we call that a tie?”

“I will only accept your terms of surrender if you send them to me with the traitor!” Scott replied.

“I find those terms to be unacceptable for two reasons,” Caleb replied with the poise of a seasoned walnut warrior. “First of all, I’m not surrendering. I’m proposing a truce.  Second, I will not sacrifice my comrade to satisfy your desire for retribution. We have all sustained substantial wounds. This fact alone is retribution enough.”

Scott was silent for a few minutes while he considered Caleb’s explanation.

“Fine,” he responded in a subdued tone. “Drop all of your ammunition and I’ll come out empty handed. I think it’s about dinnertime anyways.”

The thud of several walnuts hitting the gravel drive acted as a period on the truce between the two lines of conflict. Scott stood up and looked across the ammunition strewn battlefield at his opponents. Caleb and Luke raised their hands with their empty palms facing Scott. Scott followed suit. Scott walked towards his brothers in apprehension, fully expecting some sort of surprise attack. There wasn’t one. He stood before his brothers who extended their hands. Scott shook their hands in turn cementing the terms of the truce. The all turned towards the house laughing and joking as they walked.

They walked in through the back porch and hung their jackets on the hooks before walking into the kitchen. Christa was just setting the table. She looked up at the boys as they walked by and sniffed. 

“I see you boys have been messing around with the walnuts again, huh?” she mentioned with her eyebrows raised.

The boys knew that there was no hiding the distinctive walnut husk smell on their clothing and their hands so they just stood there and shrugged. There wasn’t a hard-fast rule against walnut wars but it was one of those things that could easily be seen as a bad idea. Pretty much any activity that involved throwing any projectile full force at each other was a bad idea in the eyes of their mother.

“Go wash your hands for dinner, and change your clothes,” Christa directed with a smile. “Boys will be boys, I guess.”