Winter in June (21 page)

It was working. I was dozing off. Any second now I would be asleep and this whole awful day—the day we learned Gilda was dead—would be over.

A sound forced my eyes open. I stared into the near darkness,
trying to make out the source of the noise. It wasn't the hut creaking, or a snore, or a murmur of disconcerting dreams. Somebody was walking around the tent.

I froze. Could it be Captain Lambert returning from a late-night rendezvous? Or was I wrong to assume that whoever was watching us from the jungle was there to ensure our safety?

Slowly, so the movement seemed like nothing more than the usual tossing and turning, I rolled onto my side until I faced the source of the noise. The figure was coming closer, clearly heading my way. I had no weapons at my disposal. At this point, the only thing I did have was the element of surprise.

A flashlight clicked on, and a globe of light left the floor and highlighted an empty cot beside my own. As soon as the bed had been sighted, the torch clicked off and the footsteps quickened their pace. They stopped, and the cot let out a moan as weight settled on its frame.

I breathed again and begged my heart to slow its beat. It was another good hour before I finally fell asleep.

 

Captain Lambert didn't need the bugle to wake us. The distant sounds of air raids did it for her.

“Rise and shine, ladies,” she said in an irritatingly cheerful voice. Outside the tent, morning was still trying to free itself from night. “Inspection is in ten minutes.”

The noise outside was similar to the sounds we'd heard our first day on Tulagi, only without the accompanying siren to warn us of approaching danger. There was no hope of sleeping through it, especially when Captain Lambert stopped at the end of my bed and smacked my thigh. “This means
everyone
, Miss Winter.”

I sat up and gave her an appropriate glare for so early an hour. Across the room Violet struggled to make the extra-long cot with an average-sized sheet. I yawned and stretched before finally committing to swinging my feet over the side of my bed. Next to me, at the cot that had required flashlight assistance, Candy Abbott was rapidly buttoning her uniform jacket.

“Morning,” I said to her.

She smiled and paused in her work. “I heard you gals were bunking with us now. How do you like the accommodations?”

“I've been in prisons with more comfortable beds.”

“It gets better. The more you sleep on them, the softer they become.” She sat on her own cot, not caring about the wrinkles she was making.

“Any idea what all the ruckus is about?”

“The Japs are bombing Guadalcanal. Not to worry, it's the end of the island farthest from us that they're concentrating on.” She fished a shoe out from under the cot. “I was sorry to hear about Gilda.”

“Thanks. We're going to miss her something awful.”

“How's the other girl who got shot?”

“Jayne? Good. She should be back with us tonight.” At the end of the tent, Amelia roared for someone to drop and give her ten. If it were me, I would've lifted my arm and given her one. “Is your CO as bad as she seems?”

“Worse.”

“You seem to have no problem getting around her rules.”

A question passed through Candy's eyes.

“I heard you come in last night,” I whispered.

“Oh.” She looked embarrassed. And a little afraid. She'd assumed she was better at cloak and dagger than that. “I thought it was late enough that everyone would be asleep.”

“Don't worry—I'd just gotten in myself. Word to the wise: there are guards posted outside the tent.”

“Seriously?” The color rapidly left her face.

“It's either that or gorillas who enjoy a cigarette. So who is he?”

She smiled and looked ready to spill when Captain Lambert's voice rang out to my right.

“You have one minute until inspection, Miss Winter. I fail to see how you're going to accomplish dressing and making your cot within that time.”

“I'm not a Wac,” I said.

“My house, my rules. Incidentally, while yesterday was a special circumstance, you will have to start curbing your nighttime activities. My girls are to be in their cots at twenty-three hundred hours. No exceptions.”

Could she see in the dark? Because there was no way anyone could've observed me coming in the night before. More than likely she hadn't been in the barracks yet herself. “So your guards squealed,” I said.

“My what?”

“The men you had posted last night.”

“If there were any men around this hut, I can assure they were in violation of orders.” She licked the end of her pencil and tapped the lead against the clipboard. “Who were these men?”

“Beats me. It was dark.”

“What branch were they?”

“Pine? Olive? How the deuce would I know?” Surely Blake would've let her know if he was posting guards. I didn't like where this was going. Somehow we'd progressed from my being in trouble to my getting someone else in trouble. Until I knew why they were there and what they were doing, it hardly seemed fair to rat out our nighttime visitors.

“Do I look like I'm joking?” she asked. Truth be told, I couldn't picture her amused. Ever.

“I'm telling you the truth.” I raised my hand. “Scout's honor. I assumed they were supposed to be there, so I barely eyeballed them. I don't even know how many there were.”

“Very well. If you see them again I expect you to alert me immediately.” She glanced at her watch. Fortunately, annoying us was of greater concern to her than protecting our virtue. “You now have thirty seconds to complete your task.” She clapped her hands together. “Chop! Chop!”

I rose and threw my blanket over the mattress. With a speed I didn't know I possessed, I threw on fresh clothes and went to the end of my cot, standing at attention like the other women around me.

If Captain Lambert was impressed by my haste, she didn't admit
it. She barely paid me notice as she walked by my cot and checked my name off her clipboard.

Violet and Kay weren't so lucky. While her bunk was made and her person seemed tidy, Captain Lambert lingered over Violet's trunk, where unmentionables hung out like the tongue of a thirsty dog. With a single finger, she lifted the trunk lid, revealing the disastrous contents to everyone in the room. Violet's folding abilities weren't what she was interested in; it was her collection of libations. Amid silky underthings, blouses, skirts, and dresses were several jars of booze nestled like eggs in their nest. In the middle of it all was a flask, waiting to be loaded so that Violet could be too.

Captain Lambert picked up a jar and, like a model at Macy's, turned so that everyone could see what she held. “Alcohol is strictly forbidden,” she said. “We are a dry unit.”

“You may be a dry unit, but I'm a thirsty actress.” Violet made a move for the jar but found it lifted just beyond her reach.

“Where did you get this from?”

Violet raised her chin. “I brought if from home.”

Captain Lambert opened the jar and took a whiff. The potency showed on her face. “Operating an amateur distillery is against military regulations.”

“I'll keep that in mind if I ever decide to join the military.”

“If I find liquor in your possession again, there will be disciplinary action. Understood?”

Violet's eyes didn't stray from the jar. Amelia seemed to sense that words would have little impact on her. If she wanted to make a statement, she was going to have to do it in a language Violet understood.

She walked to the tent opening and emptied the jar's contents onto the ground outside. A squeal escaped from Violet as she watched her precious booze fall onto the already wet ground. I half-expected her to hurl herself to the floor and lap up whatever hadn't been absorbed.

“You can't do that! That's my hooch!”

“And if you obey my rules, perhaps you will get the remainder
back when your tour ends. There is no alcohol in my camp. And if I find it again, I'll see to it that Rear Admiral Blake starts a full investigation to uncover whoever is distilling on this island. Understood?” Captain Lambert instructed one of the Wacs to retrieve the remaining jars and take them to her office. Violet watched in near tears as her bar left the room.

Unfortunately, Captain Lambert wasn't done. Her gaze shifted from Violet to Kay, who was standing perfectly erect in front of her cot. Her trunk was latched, its contents completely concealed by the luggage. Her bed was so tightly made that we could've used it for a trampoline. And Kay herself was pin neat, her shirt tucked in, her shoes polished enough to refract the light.

None of that, however, was enough for Captain Lambert.

“Miss Thorpe, I've heard that you used to be a Wac.”

Kay kept her eyes focused straight ahead. “Yes, Captain Lambert. That's correct.”

“I guess you couldn't cut it, could you?”

Had I been the one undergoing the inquisition, I probably would've let her have it. Kay knew better though. The easiest way to make this end was to agree with whatever Amelia said.

“That's correct, Captain Lambert.”

“Do you know what girls who quit the WACs are?”

“No, Captain Lambert.”

“Cowards. Weak, pitiful cowards.”

Kay swallowed. I desperately wanted to intervene on her behalf, but I wasn't certain what that would accomplish. Lambert had my number. My defending Kay would only give her another reason to dislike her.

“Private Andrews,” Captain Lambert said to a Wac one bed away. “Is the manner in which Miss Thorpe made her bed acceptable?”

Private Andrews's face was a mess of freckles, and her body had a peculiar tendency to look as though she were slumping, even when I was sure she was standing perfectly straight. The Wac looked at Kay, and then at the bed. “No, it isn't.”

“I agree,” said Captain Lambert. She went to Kay's cot and threw
back the covers with such force that all the sheets and blankets were stripped from the bed. “Do it again. Properly this time.”

Kay did so while we all watched. When the bed was complete, Captain Lambert queried another Wac, this one named Lembeck. The tall brunette didn't even look at the bed before proclaiming that it was once again improperly done.

For a half hour Kay made the bed while the Wacs passed judgment on her. I was beginning to think we'd be there all day as she tucked her sheets and pulled her blankets, when Captain Lambert queried Candy Abbott on Kay's success.

“Private Abbott, has Miss Thorpe made this bed to your satisfaction?”

“Yes, Captain Lambert. The bed is fine.”

Captain Lambert gave a little jolt of surprise. “What was that?”

“I said, that in my opinion the bed has now been properly made.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain of that?”

“Yes, Captain Lambert.”

Amelia stomped over to Candy's bedside and pulled back her sheets. “Then perhaps you better demonstrate the proper way to make a bed, since you seem to believe you're an expert on the matter.”

Candy did so. She only had to repeat the process twice before one of the other Wacs confirmed that it was done to her liking. That girl didn't have to face Captain Lambert's wrath. Apparently, Amelia had tired of her game.

When the inspection was complete, Captain Lambert directed the Wacs to meet her outside for their march to the mess. As they headed out the door, I grabbed hold of Candy.

“Thanks for what you did for Kay. That took a lot of guts.”

She shrugged. “It was nothing. I was hungry and getting bored with it all.”

“Still. Thanks.”

As soon as they were out of sight, the three of us collapsed back on our cots to wait for the sun to finish rising.

“I can't take this every day,” moaned Violet. “How dare she confiscate my booze. I have just as much a right to it as the men do.”

I ignored her. After all, while losing her liquor was a pity, watching Kay being put through the wringer was slightly more disturbing.

“Are you all right?” I asked Kay.

“About as good as your garden-variety pariah can be.”

I turned on my side. “They'll get used to you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. So many of those girls used to be my friends. I wonder which one of them squealed to Captain Lambert about me.”

“Does it really matter?”

“No.” She rolled onto her stomach and kicked the air like she was swimming.

“At least Candy stood up for you.”

The pillow muffled her voice. “For now. I bet after the girls get done razzing her for it, she'll never make that mistake again.”

“Don't be so sure. I wasn't the only one who came in late last night. Candy didn't come home until after I did.”

“You should've squealed,” said Violet.

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “What would that have accomplished? By keeping my yap shut, she knows we've got her back, and maybe she'll keep watching ours.”

“Or maybe she'll decide that you're even now and all bets are off.” Violet threw the pillow back at me. It landed on the floor with a thud.

“Were there really guards out there last night?” asked Kay.

“Yeah,” said Violet. “I didn't see anyone.”

I rescued the pillow from the floor and punched it back into shape. “They were hiding in the trees when I came in. I think it's the same men who were watching us the night Gilda died.”

“Maybe Dotty put them on us,” said Kay. “Or some of the other fellows. It's kind of nice to know someone's looking out for us.”

“If that's what they're doing,” said Violet.

“Trust me,” I said. “If they intended to do us harm, they had plenty of chances when we were still in our own tent. They're either here to watch out for us or they're Peeping Toms, and frankly, after everything else that's gone on, a Peeping Tom is fine by me.”