Winter in June (22 page)

Later that morning I helped Jayne pack up her things and take them to the WAC barracks. “So how did it go with Billy?” I asked her as we started across the camp.

She grinned at her feet as a blush colored her neck and face. She'd insisted on walking even though her ankle was still bothering her and her usual quick pace was impeded by pain. “Nice. Very nice. It was sweet of them to check on us last night, wasn't it?”

“Yeah, it was pretty swell of them.”

Jayne screwed up her mouth. “You don't think it was disrespectful, do you?”

“How so?”

“Billy visiting me so soon after Gilda died.”

“Given how much Gilda loved men, it seems like a fair tribute to me.”

She hugged her bundle to her chest. “He said he thinks he's falling in love with me.”

“Thinks?”

She cocked her head to the left, and her smile went loopy. “Okay, I added the ‘thinks.' Is it too soon to feel that way about someone?”

I thought about how nice it had been to see Peaches, how good it felt to have a warm body so close to mine. It was hard not to seek out company when you were surrounded by death wherever you turned. “Are you asking for his benefit or yours?”

“Both, I guess.”

“No, it's not too soon,” I said. “Just don't let the war rush you, okay? Those uniforms have a way of making us think that we have to do everything today.”

A mosquito lingered in the air before me, and I dispatched it with a clap of my hands. Peaches weighed heavily on my mind, though I didn't want to give voice to any of the things I was thinking. While it may not have been too soon for Jayne to get serious, it was definitely too soon for me.

Jayne yawned and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“I know why I didn't get any sleep,” I said. “What's your excuse?”

“It was a busy night at the infirmary. One of the enlisted men tried to hang himself.”

“No sir!”

Jayne nodded solemnly. “He's going to be fine, but it was pretty upsetting. He was ranting and raving most of the night.”

“Any idea why he wanted to do it?”

“Ruth said he was rock happy. I guess the longer the boys are here with nothing to do, the more desperate they become. The good news is he didn't try to hurt anyone else.”

“That's the good news?”

Jayne squinted into the distance. “Is that Spanky?”

His bald globe of a head reflected the sun as he walked along the beach. When he saw us, he picked up his pace and trotted the remaining distance to us.

“Morning, ladies. How're you feeling, Jayne?” He took the stack
of magazines from her hands like a schoolboy offering to tote her books to class.

“Swell,” said Jayne. “Thanks for asking. How's Mac?”

“You can see for yourself this afternoon. Woof says he's ready to get back on his feet.” He turned his attention to me. “That was some rally last night, wasn't it?”

“It was something else all right,” I said. “I have a question for you: Have you or Dotty asked your friends to tail us?”

“Come again?”

“Someone was watching us from outside our tent the night Gilda was shot, and they showed up at the WAC barracks last night. I thought one of you might've put them up to it.”

He turned his palms my way. “You got the wrong tree. Is someone bothering you?”

“No,” I said. “It's nothing like that. We were just trying to figure out who they're getting their orders from.”

“I can ask around if you like.”

“If you do, keep it hush-hush,” I said. “I don't think this is something the brass initiated, and I'd hate to get someone in trouble for trying to protect us.”

“My lips are sealed. Speaking of secrets…” He leaned toward us. He was ripe with sweat and seawater, and a hint of something much more potent. Had he been drinking? Or was this last night's fun still clinging to his breath? “It's going down tonight.”

Jayne and I exchanged a look that made it clear we had no idea what he was talking about.

“We're storming the prison,” he said.

“Who's doing what now?” I asked.

“It's not right that that Jap is down there enjoying the lap of luxury after what he did to Jayne and Gilda. He has to pay for what he's done.”

Jayne's mouth popped into an
O
. “What do you want to do that for?”

Spanky was nonplussed by her tone. I just don't think he thought
it was possible that someone was opposing their actions, especially one of the people they were doing it for. “We're sending a message, and if we do it right, we just might find out who his accomplices are and when they're going to strike again.”

“But haven't we already done that by putting him in prison?” she asked.

“Yeah, with pillows and hand-holding.” His head snapped to the left, where a group of men congregated with a football. He returned the slicks to Jayne. “I got to blow, girls. But if you want in on the fun, we're meeting at the swimming hole at midnight.”

 

At breakfast, the officers talked about the coming advance on New Georgia. Gilda's name wasn't mentioned once, though her presence hung in the room like the smell of bacon that clung to the walls. Van Lauer was still there, as were the rest of the men who'd accompanied him. Because of the air strikes on Guadalcanal, the army air force officers' stay had been extended for at least another day just in case they were needed. I thought we'd already won that island, but apparently these victories weren't as black and white as the press made them seem. Further complicating things was the contradictory news coming out of Guadalcanal. The Japanese claimed to have struck one of our convoys, but Secretary of the Navy Knox said no such convoy was ever in the area. The Japanese were merely lying to make their defeat a bit more palatable.

“When is it over?” I asked my RAF companion.

“When the last Jap is dead and buried,” he replied.

As breakfast ended and everyone began to disperse, Violet suggested we head to the enlisted mess to rehearse. On the way there, Jayne and I filled Kay and her in on our conversation with Spanky.

“Do you think we should tell someone?” asked Kay.

“Actually, I was hoping Violet might take care of things for us,” I said.

Violet put her hand to her chest. “Me?” Her squinty eyes looked bigger today. In fact, she looked better than she had since I'd first
met her. The layers of makeup were gone, her hair was soft and natural, and she seemed more at ease with herself. Perhaps this was love working its magic.

“Spanky will do anything you say. If you told him you thought this was a bad idea, I'm sure he'd retreat.”

She cocked her head, silently acknowledging that my description of her hold over Spanky was true. “Sure he would,
if
I thought it was a bad idea.”

I stopped walking. “Come again?”

Violet turned to face me. “This man killed Gilda and tried to do the same to Jayne. I think it's noble that they want him to pay for that.”

I was flabbergasted. Was she really saying this? “Well, Jayne doesn't think it's noble, do you, Jayne?”

“No,” she said.

“And I seriously doubt Gilda would either. What if they kill him?”

Violet waved me off like I was an insect buzzing around her head. “They won't kill him.”

Kay looked at her square on, enunciating each word with the care of a nonnative English speaker. “But what if they do?”

“Then they do,” said Violet. “You're forgetting: he
killed
Gilda.”

“But—but—but that was an act of war,” said Kay.

Violet lifted her head ever so slightly to assert what she believed to be her superior position. “And this isn't? If they're not playing by the rules, why should we?”

We were going down a dangerous path, where no one could ever be completely right or wrong, but a whole lot of feelings were bound to be hurt in the process.

“They could end up being court-martialed,” I said. “The whole lot of them could face disciplinary action if they hurt the guy, to say nothing of killing him. Do you really want that for Spanky?”

“Of course not, but that's not going to happen. You heard Blake last night—he wants us to do this. It's the right thing.” Violet tossed her hands in the air. “If you want to rat them out, it's on you. I don't
want any part of it. It's about time someone around here stood up for what's right.”

And with that, we agreed to disagree.

 

By the time lights went out that evening, I was feeling beyond conflicted. Sure, I didn't like the idea that a fellow human being was about to undergo whatever torture Spanky and his pals decided to level on him. But this was the man who killed Gilda and tried to kill Jayne, and right now it looked as if he would wait out the rest of the war as a POW. When it was all said and done, he'd be sent back home no worse for wear and possibly hailed as a hero for diverting attention away from his accomplices. He would get a parade; Gilda would get a box.

But there were rules for a reason. Even if the Japanese didn't obey the same policies that we did, wasn't it our responsibility to show them that we were more moral and humane and that was why we had right on our side? If things got out of hand and the sniper was killed, how was that different from the horrible things the Allied prisoners were facing? Did we really want to provide the enemy with the rationale that they only did what they did because
we
did it first?

Besides, if what Late Nate said was true, the prisoner would be facing dishonor for being taken alive. Maybe that was the key to reasoning with our men. They could torture the guy all they wanted, but if they really wanted to punish him, keeping him alive and in impeccable shape would do more damage to him than fists and guns. Let the enemy deal with their own.

I sat up in my cot and sought out the opening in the mosquito netting. I had no idea what time it was, but judging from the snoring coming from across the hut, I was guessing it was nearing half-past twelve.

I stood up and tried to adjust to the inky night. I could do this. I would go to the POW camp and try to reason with the men. It was the right thing to do.

Bare feet padded across the floor. Jayne's hair glowed in the dark
like the phosphorescence in the ocean. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I'm not sure yet,” I whispered back.

“You're going to try to stop them, aren't you?”

“Someone has to.”

“We could tell Rear Admiral Blake,” said Jayne.

I let out a groan and quickly put my hand to my mouth to make sure the noise didn't wake someone. “And what would telling Late Nate do? You had the good fortune to miss his little speech last night, but trust me when I say that I wouldn't be surprised if he unlocked the prison door and handed over the sniper to the first unruly mob he saw.” I fished my shoes out from under my cot and tied on a robe.

“Can I come?”

“Do you really want to?

“Yes. Gilda may not be able to tell them what she wants, but I still can.”

Two voices were better than one. Besides, Jayne had a knack for being more compelling than me. “Can your ankle handle it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, but be quiet about it.”

She snuck back to her cot and retrieved her shoes. Should we get Kay to come too? It wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone levelheaded with us. Especially someone who knew the military and could talk their talk.

I tiptoed over to her bed and gently shook her. Her eyes immediately opened, and I signaled for her to keep her yap shut. She nodded, acknowledging what I was asking and what I was proposing. Within seconds she had her shoes and had covered up her nightgown with a robe.

I gestured for the two of them to follow me. We made a beeline to the barracks door, and I peeked through a crack to see if anyone was waiting for us. It didn't look like our guards were on duty yet. Perhaps Spanky's asking about them had spooked them.

I waved for Jayne and Kay to follow me, and the three of us jogged two tents down before pausing to put on our shoes.

“Should we get Violet too?” asked Jayne.

“You heard her today. She'd be as helpful as a clubfoot right now.”

Jayne struggled to tie her robe closed. “She's going to be mad as hell.”

“Let her. She's not my czar.”

“What's the plan?” asked Kay.

“We're going to try to reason with them. But I'm betting it will mean more coming from you than me.” I told her my idea about trying to explain to them that dishonor would do more harm to the prisoner than fists could. Jayne and Kay agreed that it was a compelling reason to get them to call off the witch hunt. Assuming the men were sober. If they'd liquored up in anticipation of what they were about to do, there'd be no reasoning with them.

“What if Violet's right?” said Kay.

My jaw hit the muddy ground. “You're kidding me, right? You're the last person I'd expect to hear sticking up for her.”

“I'm not saying I completely agree with her, but don't you think we owe it to Gilda to see to it this man gets more than a slap on the hand?”

I understood where Kay was coming from. She'd lost two brothers at Bataan. Who was going to see to it that the men behind that were punished? “Look, if you don't want to come, nobody's making you.”

Kay gouged at a patch of rough skin on her index finger. “No, I do. I definitely do.”

We made it to the swimming hole, where a cluster of beer bottles and cigarette butts made it clear that we'd missed the men by only a few minutes. In the distance ahead, twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and a low voice implored the others to “
shhhh
…”

“Should we call out to them?” asked Jayne.

If we did so, we might draw the attention of someone else, someone who might see to it that the boys—and the three of us—were punished for this little plot. I advised the others to remain quiet, and we followed the path toward the prison. The road made a
Y
one side heading for the POW camp, the other one toward the village.