Battle Cry (15 page)

“I had some hay down my back…I…I…”

Her hand reached up and touched the bare skin of his shoulder and moved gently over his chest. His shirt fell from his hands and he embraced her.

“You’re strong, darling.”

“Don’t talk.”

They exchanged fiery kisses. She put her head on his chest. He lifted her into his arms and held her, and she became faint with passion. “Danny…Danny,” she sobbed.

He walked to the bedroom door and kicked it open. And slowly lowered her to the bed, then lay at her side and once more crushed her against his body. Violently, she tore the gown from her body and tugged at the buckle of his trousers. Their bodies seemed to melt together; she sunk her fingernails into his flesh. “Oh God…God…God…” she said in a dull, interminable rhythm.

CHAPTER 8

THE CODE
began to sound like an inescapable whine in Danny’s ears during the ensuing weeks. Lessons, once easily learned, became difficult and the fascination of radio grew to boredom. A haze fell over him. An irresistible urge drove him to her arms…yet at the same time a constant irking guilt wanted him to break away. It was wrong. Wrong for both of them. Everything he knew told him so. Yet he automatically dressed and passed through the main gate to the waiting car. Like a magnet. Every other night Ski lay in Danny’s bunk to cover him during bed check. Ski treated the affair with passive silence. He hated Danny for not finding the strength or the will to remain faithful, as he had done to Susan. Yet they were buddies and he quietly surrendered his liberty card to Danny and protected his absences. There were no bull sessions with the fellows now. No wrestling about or slinging insults. He spoke little to anyone.

Elaine Yarborough quit the USO. She stiffened and turned deaf ears to the icy whispers of the Navy wives. Let them scorn her and her lover. Perhaps it was envy, perhaps it was. She succumbed to him, enraptured, like a hero worshipper. Piecemeal the stiff clandestine tradition of caste built in her marriage to Vernon wilted in his arms. The young Marine dominated her every thought, her every move. The past faded or failed to penetrate to the cloud she lived on. In a nightclub, a roadside rendezvous, the beach, her apartment, she studied him enthralled.

Dear Son,

I realize how busy you must be and I promised that I wouldn’t make too many demands upon you. But it has been two weeks since we have gotten a letter. Are you ill or have you been transferred from school?

I know there must be some logical reason, son. I hate to harp but you must realize how important your letters are.

Why don’t you call us, collect of course. You should be free around six at night—that will be nine, our time. Friday night we will all be standing by….

If you are in any kind of trouble, I’d feel a lot better if you cared to confide in me….

Danny sat up slowly in bed, yawned and stretched. She lay cuddled under the blankets and peeked one eye open. She saw the ripple of muscle over his back and purred like a contented cat.

“Holy Christ,” he said, “I’m late. Hey Elaine, wake up.”

“Leave me alone, I’m going to sleep all day.”

“Like hell you are. You’re going to drive me to the base. Get up.”

“Oh, must I?” she whined. She rolled over on her back and looked at him. “Come here, Danny boy,” she whispered, holding up the covers.

“Don’t call me Danny boy.”

“Come here to mommy.” She eased him down beside her and held his cheek against her breast.

“Don’t call me Danny boy.”

“I like to tease you.” He kissed her hand and closed his eyes. She sighed and ran her fingers over his hard flesh. Vernon was soft and pudgy. So dull, so without imagination, so routine, so dutiful. The mornings she lay cold and angry, unsatisfied, taken for granted. He was soft. He tried to exercise at the club but there was an ugly ring of fat around his middle.

Danny flung the covers off, rolled her over and slapped her backside. “Come on, woman, get up and make me some breakfast.” He nudged her from the bed to the floor. She stood up, grabbed a blanket and covered herself quickly.

“You shouldn’t do that, Danny.”

“Do what?”

“Look at me.”

“Why not?”

“It embarrasses me.”

“Hell, if I was built like you, I’d walk down Broadway naked as a jaybird.”

“Danny, stop that this minute.”

“Hurry up, will you, I’ll miss reveille.”

He walked into the barracks and opened his locker as the rest of the men worked slowly into their clothes.

“Aha,” cried L.Q. Jones. “Here comes big Dan Forrester. SOS, the breakfast food of Marines, brings you another chapter in the thrilling adventures of Big Dan Forrester, SUPER-MARINE!”

“Very funny, very goddam funny,” Danny spat as he flung his towel over his shoulder and stomped off to the head. Behind him there was a sound of laughter.

“What’s the matter, Danny, got the red ass?” Andy Hookans pulled up to the sink next to his.

“I don’t see anything funny, that’s all.”

“Can’t blame them for being jealous. That is a damned nice car. Besides, they’re getting frustrated. They’ve fixed your bed to catch you in a ‘short sheet’ for a week, and you never get in till reveille.”

Danny lathered his face quietly.

“Forget it, they’re only kidding.”

“Maybe a good clout on the mouth and L.Q. might keep it shut.”

“I wouldn’t be sore at L.Q. He answered for you at roll-call.”

“What do you mean? Roll call isn’t for twenty minutes.”

“Last night, we had an air raid drill. The Sarge was watching Ski. L.Q. answered up for you.”

“I…I’m sorry. I guess I blew my lid, Andy.”

“Better slow down, Danny,” Hookans continued. His big Swedish face was clouded and concerned. “We don’t want to see you shipped out of school.”

“Yeah, thanks…dammit to hell.” He nicked his chin.

“Forget it when you’re in class.”

“I can’t.”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s wrong. Well, if you wasn’t shacking up with her, there’d be another guy in her bed.”

“She isn’t a tramp.”

“Yeah, I know. None of them are. But they all got to have it.”

“I sure want to be there when you fall, Andy.”

“Save your breath. They haven’t made the broad yet that can make old Andy go down for the count.”

Tech Sergeant Hale sat at his desk at the head of the class. His head rested upon one arm as he gazed down into the book. His right hand worked the key, sending dots and dashes into the earphones of the thirty men at the desks before him.

ASPFK KMTJW URITF LZOCC KPZXG HNMKI LOQEI TZCOV DERAP NOWSS DEBZO

Working some fifteen words slower than his accustomed speed he opened his eyes to fight off the monotony. As his fist sent code, the room was filled with the clicks of typewriters, almost in unison. He turned the page and looked down the rows of men. Stiff ironed khaki and field scarfs and glistening battle pins. Young faces with crew cuts; a slow recovery from the stripping of boot camp.

The Sergeant yawned. “O.K., we’ll try numbers now, six words a minute.”

20034 38765 23477 88196…the bell sounded, ending classes for the day. A sigh of relief arose as the men doffed their earphones, rubbed their ears and shook their heads to erase the dots and dashes. They arose and stretched.

“Zvonski and Lighttower, report back after chow. You fellows will have to take an extra hour of code each night this week to make up the test.”

“Goddam,” the Indian opined, “got a heap nice squaw in Dago, sarge.”

“If you don’t learn this code, Lighttower, we’re going to send you to the happy hunting grounds.”

Danny slapped Ski across the back. “Come on, you weren’t going any place anyhow. Let’s clean up for chow.” Marion Hodgkiss joined them as they left the building.

“Tough luck, Ski.” Danny and Ski lit up as they passed along the arcade toward their barracks.

“I know what’s coming through. But every time I go to type it, I hit the wrong key or something. You don’t think they’ll ship me out, do you?”

“For Chrisake, stop worrying,” Danny said. “We’ll skip the movie tonight and work in the head after taps.”

“I’ll help if you like,” Marion offered.

They rounded the corner at the far end of the base and caught sight of a platoon of Sea School drillers. The blue dressed men whipped their rifles about like button-controlled robots. Everyone stopped to look at them.

“Look at them bastards,” Ski said, “all over six feet tall.”

“I guess that’s where all the dress blues in the Corps are.”

“They sure can drill.”

“Funny,” Danny said opening the barracks door, “I didn’t even know Marines wore green until I got to San Diego.”

“Seriously?” Marion asked.

“Hell of a thing to admit. When I was a kid in Baltimore, the Marines from Quantico came up to play the firemen every year. They gave the whole base weekend shore leave for the game. Those guys were real giants, the peacetime guys. I remember how they looked all decked out in their blues—like some kind of gods, I guess. All the kids used to stand outside the stadium and watch them leave, with a girl on each arm and a half dozen following them. The Corps sure has changed.”

Ski threw his books on his bunk and lay down. “I got to relax more with the earphones on.”

“I’ve got to study after chow,” Danny said. “I’ll meet you after your late class. Need a few things at ship’s store. I…I’m going to phone Baltimore, too.”

“You going to blow a whole pay?”

“My dad wrote to me to reverse charges.”

Marion passed them with his washing gear. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up before chow call.”

Danny and Marion leaned against the wall outside Ski’s class, waiting for the evening session to end. Danny walked to a vending machine, inserted a nickel and caught a large, moist, juicy apple as it came tumbling out of the slot. An officer passed. They came to attention and snapped a salute. It was returned.

“This place is too damned GI,” Danny said.

“The Marine Base is a showplace for them,” Marion answered.

The base was built around a long, arcade-type construction, with Spanish archways and a walk which ran a mile alongside the parade ground. Beyond the parade ground, temporary tents and the sandy boondocks stretched to the bay. Along the archways, the barracks and buildings of the Base. Beyond these buildings was officers’ country, the PX, sports grounds and administration buildings laid out lazily in curved streets, in immaculately groomed lawns, palms, and gardens. At one end of the parade ground stood the Signal School and near it, the Field Music School. At the opposite end, the entrance to boot camp. Boot camp was a restricted area and no one cared. The base was the epitome of military custom and courtesy. A Marine there had to be starched, pressed, shiny, and cut his corners squarely.

Shining Lighttower and Ski walked slowly from the building, shaking the latest barrage of code out of their heads.

“Christ, I’m dizzy.”

“Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Damned if I can understand this white man’s way to send a message. Me and Major Bolger got to talk…I’ll show him how much easier smoke signals are,” the Indian said.

“We’re heading for the PX. You coming?” Marion asked.

“No, I’m going to the movies. They got a cowboy and Indian picture.” Lighttower cut down to the parade ground. “See you palefaces by the light of the rising sun.”

“That guy fractures me,” Ski said. “Always trying to make like an Injun.”

They fell in step and paced down the archway keeping their right arms loose for immediate action in the event of a passing officer. They strolled into the PX, made their purchases, and found three empty stools at the fountain.

“Order for me. I’m going to place my call,” Danny said, stepping into a nearby phone booth. He returned. “It will be a few minutes for a line to Baltimore.” They sipped their sodas.

Then all eyes in the PX turned and stuck to the tall, gaunt man who had entered. There was a hush. His gray eyes pierced and darted about as he walked to the counter and asked for some shaving gear.

“That’s Colonel Coleman, the boss of the Raiders,” Danny whispered.

“I hear he’s forming a new battalion,” Marion added.

“Brother, I sure hope he don’t look this way. I don’t want no part of them crazy bastards.”

“You can say that again.”

“Lucky Lighttower didn’t come,” Marion mused. “Coleman would have gotten himself an Indian scout for sure.”

“I hear them Raiders sleep on the floor. They don’t give them no bedding.”

“I came in from liberty last night about one o’clock and they were out boondocking. They don’t get shore leave, either.”

“Man, when a Raider walks toward me, I step aside. Ever see the knives and strangling gear they carry?”

“A guy would have to be nuts to volunteer into that outfit.”

Colonel Ed Coleman received his change and walked to the soda fountain. Marion, Ski, and Danny plunged into their sodas. He seated himself on a stool next to Hodgkiss.

“Evening, Marine,” he said slowly.

“Good evening, sir,” Marion muttered. “Well, I’ll see you fellows later.” He beat a hasty retreat from the PX.

Coleman gulped down a Coke and walked to the phone booth.

“Excuse me, sir,” Danny said, “but I have a long distance call coming on that phone.”

“Beg your pardon.” Coleman stepped around him toward another booth.

“What the hell you talk like that for, you nuts?”

“All I said was…”

“Don’t talk to that Raider like that, it makes me nervous.”

The phone rang. Danny entered the booth.

“Hello…yes, this is Forrester.”

“Your call to Baltimore, Maryland, is ready.” He shut the door.

“Hello, hello, son. Danny, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Are you all right, son? Are you in any kind of trouble?”

“No, I’ve just been busy. I’ll get a letter off tonight.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“We let Bud stay up. He’s hanging on my arm.”

“Hello, Buddy.”