Battle Cry (74 page)

He half closed his eyes and rested back. “What are the assignments again?”

“Seabags, L.Q., Lighttower, and Andy will be out with the rifle companies. Corporal Hodgkiss will be in the command post on the walkie-talkie team.”

“How about the Indian?”

“Not much of a code man but he can work a TBY at the bottom of a well,” I assured him.

“The rest?”

“Gomez, Gray, Forrester, and I will operate the sets to regiment and to the flagship.”

“Regiment is coming in with Tulsa Blue on our right flank and we’ve got to stay in with them if they veer south in the tide.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whatever you do, don’t lose the flagship.”

“We plan to use the jeep radio there, sir.”

“Good.” He folded the map and smiled self-consciously. “Care for a drink?”

I nearly fell over. Huxley opened the desk drawer and withdrew a half pint of Scotch. “I’ve been nursing this bottle along for six months, but this is an occasion, I believe.” He tilted the bottle to his lips. “Good luck, men.” He passed the bottle to the Gunner.

“Here’s to the next man that…er, good luck,” the Gunner said.

I took the bottle and held it up for a second. “No offense meant, Colonel, but I want to toast Huxley’s Whores, the best goddam outfit in the Corps.”

Keats and I stepped out to the promenade deck a moment later and leaned against the rail. The sky was flaming like a bursting fireball as the Pacific sunset turned the death-laden sea to orange. From the aft deck came broken and disharmonized voices drifting through the stillness.

“Nearer my God to thee,

Nearer to thee….”

“Looks like a rough session, Mac. Huxley is really worried.”

“Funny,” I mused, “he’s been living two years to get this assignment. He should be happy if we lose enough for him to get a membership in the butchered battalion club. God knows that’s what he wants.” I took a smoke from Keats’ pack and lit up.

“Maybe now that he’s got it, he don’t want it,” Keats said.

I slapped him on the back. “Services are busting up, I’d better go down and tuck the platoon in. See you in the morning, Jack.”

The Black Hole of Calcutta had nothing on the second hold of a troop transport. I held my nose and fought through the mountain of gear to my section. Seabags was tenderly rubbing a last drop of oil on his weapon and patted it. Danny lay on his sack and gazed at Kathy’s picture. Andy, L.Q., and Lighttower made chatter over a cribbage board. From Sister Mary’s phonograph came the strains of a classical piece of music that flooded the hold. Somehow, none of the boys bitched about it now. It sounded kind of soothing. I climbed up to my bunk on the third tier.

“Sounds nice, what is it?”

“Aren’t you ever going to learn? Brahms First Symphony.”

“Oh sure, Brahms First gizmo, nice.”

Marion put aside his letter. “Rae likes it too.”

“Letter to her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nice girl, that Rae. You’re lucky.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell her. Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Just plain scared.”

“Got a cigarette?”

“When did you take up smoking?”

“Just now.”

The bosun’s pipe whistled through the screechbox:
“Now hear this, now hear this. All Marine personnel will remain below decks. No one is allowed topside for any reason until combat stations are manned at zero four hundred.”
The whistle screamed again. We were read a message from the regimental, division, and fleet commanders. Something or other about the glory of the Corps and adding new battle streamers to our already glorious Regimental Flag. We had cheered like boots when we heard this spiel before Guadalcanal; we were rather skeptical at Tarawa. This time it was good for a few laughs.

“I tune in for
John’s Other Wife
and this is what I get,” L.Q. said.

“You talk too much, white man, play your cards.”

“Turn it off.”

I lay back and tried to shut my eyes…sleep was impossible.

The hold soon plunged into darkness save for the dim gangway lights. I rolled over and peeled off my skivvy shirt. It was saturated with sweat. I fixed my pack under my head for a pillow. It was quiet, restlessly quiet. I felt a rhythmic tapping. It was Seabags’ foot hitting the chain that held his bunk above mine. I wondered what he was thinking.

Seabags’ body was slick with sweat. Waist high by the Fourth of July, that’s what we say about the corn in Iowa, he thought. Might be cool there tonight…before the summer sets in for fair. A man can hear the corn grow in the hot weather…just walk through the field and hear it crackling. I’d sure like to slick up with clean jeans and a fancy shirt and maybe have a little square dance at the courthouse. These guys don’t know about square dancing…they think it’s hick stuff…don’t know what real living is…
Now you aleman with the old left hand and now give out a right and left grand…meet your little honey and stomp and kick and now give her a Rocky Mountain do si do…give that little girl a twirl and promenade home…Swing your partner round and round…now do si do your corner maid…now form a little circle and come to the bar and let’s us have a right hand star….

Seabags’ foot tapped in rhythm to his whispered call on the chain at the foot of his canvas cot.

He lowered himself past me. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Seabags?”

“I’d better see Pedro and get me a little seasick medicine.”

Pedro Rojas dozed by the desk in sick bay. The short butt of his smoking cigarette reached his fingers, burned him with a start. He reached for his wallet and withdrew the faded picture of a girl and studied it for several moments. He placed it to his lips and kissed it gently.

I am not so unhappy to come back to Texas now, he thought. I am one fine corpsman…the Doc, he is going to make me a chief. My very good friends will not know old Pedro when he get back to San Antone, but they are very nice peoples anyhow. I shall take good care of them.

“Pedro.”

“Ho, Seabags. Now what is ailing a big strong gyrene such as you are?”

“You know, the old seasick.”

“Seabags! I give you already enough junk to float this ship.”

“Aw come on…don’t give me a bad time. I’m gonna start puking again.”

“Jesus Maria! Well, hokay. I hope they send you home on an airplane.”

“Don’t say that.”

He gulped the medicine down and winced.

“Seabags! You make goddam sure you eat one fine breakfast—you hear me!”

“Yeah, I hear you.” He put the glass down. “I…I guess I better get back and try to sleep.”

“Hokay, hombre.”

“Hey, Pedro…did you ever go square dancing?”

“No, but I do know some very fine Mexican dances.”

“Yeah?”

“Ho, Pedro is the finest dancer…look, sit down…I going to show you something. I show you step that if you can do I give you a bottle of uncut alcohol.”

I had to have a cigarette. I lowered myself to the deck and followed the blue light toward the head. I stopped for a swig of water at the scuttlebutt. Someone was behind me. I turned quickly. It was the Injun.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Mac.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“A little. I saw you get up….”

“What’s on your mind, kid?”

“Mac, this sounds silly. I want to say something.”

“Go on.”

“You know how I’m always saying I want to go back to the reservation?” I nodded and saw his grim face through the half shadows. “Mac…Mac, I really don’t want to go back. I want to stay in the Marine Corps…like you. Do…do you think I’d make a good gyrene?” There was a strange sad plea in his voice.

“You’ll make a hell of a gyrene.”

“You mean it?”

“Sure I mean it.”

“You know, there ain’t really nothing back there on the reservation. I got a lot of buddies here. I like the Corps…I…want to stay.”

I put my arm around the Injun’s shoulder. “Come on, for Chrisake, get some sleep. You know, we might be making some new corporals after this shindig.”

Marion squinted under the small lightbulb near a sink and his lips moved as he repeated the words he read. Danny walked into the head.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hello, Danny.”

“I’m sweating like a pig, I can’t sleep. What are you reading?”

Marion handed him the pocket book of poems.
“Under the wide and starry sky…. Dig the grave and let me lie….
Glad did I live and gladly die.”
Danny glanced up and looked soberly at Marion.
“And I lay me down with a will…This be the verse you grave for me…Here he lies where he longed to be…Home is the sailor, home from the sea…And the hunter home from the hill.”
He handed the book back slowly. “That’s a hell of a thing to be reading now,” he whispered.

“It kept running through my mind,” Marion answered.

“
Home is the sailor, home from the sea, and the hunter home from the hill.
It sort of fits, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“A buddy told me something once about finding peace of mind. But you can’t help wondering. The third time in less than two years.”

“Who knows, Danny? Every man on this ship will give you a different answer. His own piece of land, his own dream, his own woman, his own way of life. None of us has the same answer.”

“But a guy has got to know. He can’t go on forever just being led by the nose.”

“This much I can say, Danny: don’t let anybody tell you that you were a sucker. Something better has got to come from it all, it has to. Sure, we’re going to get kicked around and they’ll tell you it was all for nothing. But it can’t be for nothing. Think of the guys like Levin. For him, the issues were pretty clear cut. I wish ours were.”

“I want to believe that, Mary.”

“Don’t let them tell you that we are going to hell. If we were, we’d have done so long ago. Just don’t forget that this out here is only part of the fight.”

Danny nodded, paused a moment, and walked out of the head.

CHAPTER 3

THE
bosun’s pipe blared through the intercom, shattering the silence:
“General quarters.”
Above us we could hear the sailors rushing to their battle stations. I drew myself up: two o’clock.

“Hit the deck, drop your cocks and grab your socks. Half the day gone and not a drop of work done.”

“Ah, fair sunrise,” L.Q. said.

“Somebody turn on the goddam lights!”

“Lights!”

I laced on my boondockers and shook my head a couple of times to wipe out the clammy stink.
Thump, Thump.
The Navy big guns were pounding the target for the fourth day.

“Sixteen-inchers.”

“I hope they knock down something besides coconut trees this time.”

“Wait till Spanish Joe hits the beach. I just hope them gook women is the friendly type like on Tarawa,” he bellowed. “Stick with me, Marion old buddy, I’ll take you over the rough spots.”

The mass of sweating humanity moved slowly into their business clothes in the steamy, sealed, dimly lit hold.

T
HUMP, THUMP
. A distant drone, lumbering lazily.

“Heavy bombers.”

Screech.
“Now hear this. Chow down in the mess hall, chow down.”

THUMP…THUMP.

The hours move slowly when you look at your timepiece every thirty seconds.

“They’re sure pasting the hell out of them this time. Maybe we’ll hit a clean beach.”

Speedy began singing:

“Send me a letter,

Send it by mail,

Send it in care of,

The Birmingham jail….”

The Injun joined in another chorus.

“Did I ever tell you jerks about the time I saw a python eat a pig at the zoo?” L.Q. said. “Well, they decided to even the match up, so they greased the pig and gave this snake a gallon of bicarbonate of soda. Damnedest thing you ever saw…this old snake…”

THUMP…THUMP.

Hold it! Stop! What’s that? We lifted our eyes. We could hear the gentle splash of water against our hull. The high hum of dive bombers streaming in like angry little hornets.

“It won’t be long now.”

“About that sawbuck you owe me. I’d be willing to make a generous settlement.”

I looked at my watch…THUMP…THUMP.

“All the gear in order?”

“Roger.”

THUMP…THUMP.

I steadied the Injun’s hand so he could light a cigarette. L.Q. moved through the squad slapping them on the back and joking. His eyes met mine. He was very pale but he managed a grin.

“I’m going to puke, Mac,” Andy whispered.

“It will all be over soon as they blow the whistle. Say, isn’t Pat due to have that baby soon?”

“Jesus, I forgot. Hey, men, I’m going to be a poppa—I forgot to tell you guys!”

“Well, I’ll be go to hell.”

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Andy.”

“There goes the old malaria theory shot to hell.”

THUMP…THUMP.

“What’s the matter, Marion?” I said quietly.

“I…I was just thinking…about the Feathermerchant.”

“Knock it off!”

“I’m sorry, Mac.”

“Now hear this, now hear this. Marines, man your debarkation stations on the double.”

“We been sitting here four hours and now they want us on the double.”

Up the ladder quick. The fresh air blasts you in the face, almost knocking you down. Now you see it. Saipan! Laying there smoking and bleeding in the smoky dawn like a wounded beast licking its paws and sulking and waiting to leap back at its tormentors.

I moved the command post men to the rail and made a roll-call. The destroyers streamed in front of the ship, moving close up to the beach. Their five-inchers peppered the flaming shore furiously.