Battle Cry (4 page)

“Cut it out.”

“I don’t think we’d better pull any punches, Danny. We’ve done that too often. I feel like one of those fathers who is a star boarder in his own home. I’ve really never given you and Bud the companionship you’ve needed.”

“You don’t have to go blaming yourself because you have to beat yourself out to keep the business going.”

“I’ve envied you, son. You’ve turned out to be all the things I wished I could have been. Yes, I suppose I’m jealous of my own boy. Ever since you were a little bugger you haven’t needed me. I remember how you’d come in from peddling papers when we lived in that flat on North Avenue. You’d be bloodied up from the big boys on your corner. But you always went back and slugged it out.”

He sighed and lit another cigarette. “And you wanted to play football. Mother locked you in your room and you’d jump from the second story. You’ve had the guts to stand up to her. I never have.”

“What are you saying?”

“I wanted you to play ball. But I took her side—I always have. Still, I guess, inside me, I’m the proudest man alive that you want to join the Marine Corps. Don’t think losing a boy is easy to take. I think…this once, son…I’ll have to carry the ball for you.”

“Dad, Dad…I don’t know what to say.”

“Have you told Kathy yet?”

“No, sir.”

“I think you’d better go over there and see her.”

CHAPTER 2

CONSTANTINE ZVONSKI
lay back on the creaky bed and watched the pall of blue smoke drift to the ceiling. From where he lay he could see the garish sign of lightbulbs flick off and on. H
OTEL
, it read, R
OOMS
$1.50
AND UP
. A shift in position caused the ancient bedsprings to groan. The dim yellowish light within partly hid the cobwebs and the faded carpet with its accumulated grit and dirt of the years.

The silence in the street outside was broken by a sharp clicking of heels against the cobblestone pavement. He darted quickly to the window and drew aside the threadbare curtain. It must be Susan.

He snuffed his cigarette nervously as the sound faded and was then reheard coming quickly up the steps. He unbolted the safety lock and opened the door a crack. As she approached the head of the stairs he beckoned her softly. She entered the room breathlessly. He shut and relocked the door.

He took her in his arms. She was fresh and cold from the crisp January air.

“Honey you’re shaking like a leaf,” he said.

“I’ll be all right in a minute, it was cold outside.”

“No, you’re scared.”

She pulled herself away gently and took off her coat, then sat slowly on a hard-backed chair and hid her face in her hands.

“Your old man again?” She nodded. “Dammit, why can’t he leave us alone.”

“I’ll be all right in a minute, Connie.” He lit a cigarette and handed it to her. “Thanks, darling.”

“Was it bad?”

She managed to steady herself but her eyes watered as she spoke. “The usual. He called us names. He threatened me. I’m here now, everything is all right.”

Connie smashed his fist hard into an open hand. “He’s right. I’m no good. I’m no damned good or I wouldn’t have you come to a dump like this. He’s only trying to do what’s right for you. If I was any kind of a guy…”

“You don’t hear me complaining.”

“That’s the trouble, I wish you’d complain. No, I don’t—I don’t know what I mean.”

He turned and leaned against the dresser. Susan came up behind him and put her arms over his shoulders and rested a cheek on the back of his neck. “No kiss for me, Connie?”

He spun about and grasped her tightly. “I love you so much, sometimes I think I’m going to bust wide open.”

They kissed. “I love you too, Connie,” Susan said.

She walked to the bed, kicked off her shoes and sat back, resting against the headboard, and drew deeply and contentedly on her cigarette. He seated himself on the edge and took her hand and stroked it.

“I’ve got something important to tell you. Look, honey—we’ve talked a hundred times. Your old man will never leave us in peace as long as we are here. We got to get away from Philly.”

He began a catlike pace about the room, sputtering to find the right words. “He’s got no use for me, maybe he’s right. Sure, I got a record and reform school and all…but that was before I met you, honey. I’d do anything for you…you know that.”

“I know, Connie.”

“I finished high school, so what? None of the colleges give scholarships for a hundred-and-forty-pound guards. I…I just can’t get squared away here. Just can’t get a decent job—can’t save a damned dime. And your old man hounding and calling you dirty names. I can’t take that!”

“Don’t get yourself worked up, darling.”

“Sure, I’m a dumb Polack…eighteen-year-old punk. What’s he care if my old man died in a charity T.B. ward in a stinking coal town? I’ve been busted in the ass plenty.”

“I wish you wouldn’t curse, Connie.”

“I’m sorry, honey. See, you just say something and I’m sorry.” He smiled and sat beside her once more. “Susan.” He ran his hand over her cheek gently. “Susan…I’m so crazy about you, you’re just like living to me.”

She kissed his hand and smiled. “I kind of like you a little bit too, mister.”

He reached for an ashtray and lit up. “Like I said, this is important. We’ve got to end this meeting in dives and sneaking around. You’re too good for that—no, let me finish. I figured real hard how to get away from here. Susan, I joined the Marine Corps yesterday.”

“You…what?”

“Look.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I got it straight, they’re sending us to California to train. California, do you hear? I can get out there and save. I’ll put every nickel away and I’ll get a place for us and send for you. We can start out there, away from your old man, away from this stinking town. Just you and me, married, all the way out in California, honey.” And then he released her from his grasp slowly. “What’s the matter, Susan, you don’t look like you’re happy about it.”

“I don’t know, darling, you hit me kind of suddenly.”

“What is it, don’t you want to come to California?”

“Let me think a minute, Connie, let me think.”

Off and on the gaudy lightbulbs flicked, sending a glare, then a shadow, across the room. In the quiet, the faint smell of the mustiness set in.

“The Marine Corps,” she repeated, “the Marine Corps.”

“It’s the best way,” he pleaded. “There will be plenty of time. I’ll save hard and there’s lots of jobs out there.”

“What about your mother and Wanda?”

The words made him flinch inside. “She signed the papers to let me go. My mother is used to suffering. She wants to do what’s right by us. She knows I’ll never make it here. Wanda has only a year left of school. Uncle Ed will see they get their three squares and have a roof. Dammit! It’s
us
I’m thinking about. What’s the matter…what’s the matter?”

“I’m frightened, Connie.”

“There’s nothing to be scared about.”

“I can’t help it, I’m frightened. My father is afraid to lay a hand on me as long as you are here. I’ll be alone…I’ll be without you. Oh Connie, so many things can happen. What if you can’t get me to California?”

“I will! It’s our only chance. I’ll rot here. I can’t take it any more.” He reached for her tenderly and rocked her in his arms as though she were a little girl. “If we keep up this way, you’ll grow to hate me. You’re all I’ve got to live for.”

His lips bussed her cheek and his hand stroked her hair softly. “Honey, you’re so cold.”

“I’m afraid of your plan…something’s going to happen.”

“Hush now. Nothing can come between us.”

“No…nothing,” she repeated, and relaxed in his embrace.

“This will be our last time for a while, Susan.” His fingers groped out as he slowly unbuttoned her blouse.

“Yes, Connie…yes.”

Constantine Zvonski walked from the Harvey Restaurant in the Chicago depot. There was a five-hour layover before the Rock Island Line took over the trek. He watched as the boys and men left in pairs and threes, heading for the nearest bar or moving picture house.

“Hey, haven’t I seen you someplace?” someone said. Zvonski turned and looked at the boy in front of him. He scratched his head.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “You look awful familiar, too. Did you enlist in Philly?”

“No, I’m from Baltimore. Say, I got it. You played for Central High?”

“Don’t tell me. You’re that damned halfback from Baltimore that gave us such a bad time. My name’s Zvonski.”

“Sure, the little guard with the name. Talk about bad times, you spent the whole doggone game in our backfield.”

The little Polack’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Well, you birds licked us, didn’t you? I played a good game, huh?”

“You sure did. We talked about it all the way back to Baltimore. Darned good for being so light. My name’s Danny Forrester. Heading for San Diego, I guess?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name again?”

“You can call me Ski or whatever you want. Glad to meet you, too.”

“Say, I got a couple, three guys waiting out there. There’s a burlesque joint a few blocks down. Care to join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Later, the train sped through the night over the plains of Illinois, blinds drawn. From the washroom came the clacking of dice. Wild whoops and dropping bottles and the pungent smell of whisky. It was fortunate that Constantine Zvonski was so slight. Two in an upper were crowded at best.

“Come on little Joe.” The dice crackled off the wall.

“Little Joe for poppa, once dice.”

“Just one mile south, dice, be nice to me.”

“Six to five, no Joe.”

“Got you covered.”

“Aw, piss or get off the pot.”

Danny tried to straighten out his legs without shoving them in Ski’s face. The train rounded a curve and he rolled against the wall.

“You asleep?” Ski asked.

“Who can sleep with that racket.”

“Me neither, I can’t sleep, I’m too excited.”

“I wonder what it’s like in San Diego?”

“We’ll soon find out.”

“Hey, Danny.”

“Yes.”

“You got a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too, I got one.”

“I was just thinking about her.”

“Me, too. I always think about my girl.”

“It feels kind of funny. The whole thing is so mixed up. Last week we were at the bowling alley with the gang.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I feel funny inside too. But I ain’t got much to be homesick for. Nothing but Susan.”

“Who said I was homesick?”

“Maybe not homesick, but alone.” Ski snapped on the light and sat up, hitting his head on the abbreviated ceiling. “Dammit, I’m always doing things like that.” He reached for his pants and took out his wallet. “Here’s a picture of my girl.”

Danny propped up on an elbow. It wasn’t a very good picture. He looked at the small dark girl called Susan Boccaccio and emitted a polite, long low whistle.

“Nice, huh?” Ski beamed.

“Darned nice.”

“Let me see your girl.”

Ski returned Danny’s compliment, then he turned off the light and lay back again.

“As soon as we finish with this boot camp thing, I’m going to send for her. We got it all figured. I’m going to save up and get her out here and get married. You going to marry your girl?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh, kid stuff, huh?”

“I don’t think a guy should ask a girl anything like that in these times. Who knows where we’re going or what’s going to happen? I don’t think it would be fair to Kathy. I even heard some fellows say that we’re going right on a ship and retake Wake Island.”

“Bullcrap.”

“Just the same, who knows anything?”

“It’s different with us, Danny. We…well, we are almost like married now. I haven’t got much but Susan.”

“I guess I see.”

“I’m glad I met you, Danny. I hope we land in the same outfit.”

“Me, too.”

The train rolled on. The shouting from the washroom became louder. Someone kicked an empty bottle and sent it scuttering up the aisle. Ski swung the curtain open and slipped into his pants.

“Where you going?”

“I’m all jumpy inside. I’m going to smoke a cigarette.”

Danny stretched his cramped position and for several moments lay in the darkness listening to the clattering dice and the fascinating clicking of the wheels. And then the noise faded and he thought about her as he had thought about her a thousand times.

The brown and white saddle shoes, plaid skirt, and sweater on backwards. The cute flip of her head and the sway of her skirt as she swung past. The stag line at the weekly gym dance, the first date at a neighborhood show. Bowling after school, Friday night rugcutting sessions to Glenn Miller records at the house of one of the gang, ice skating at Carlin’s Park, after-game thick corned-beef sandwiches at the Malt Palace and summer ferry excursions to Tolchester Beach.

The fight to find courage for the first kiss. And kissing her and tripping over the milk bottles on her porch and falling down the steps into the rose bushes.

Her dates with other fellows that hurt past all pain. And his spite dates with Alice, the school tramp.

Arguments about him cutting classes to go to the burlesque. Then came the autumn of 1941 and college plans loomed larger and larger. He drove the family car now and there were the nights at the reservoir. He slipped his class ring on her finger and she nodded yes…and the night they were together and, almost without intending it, he felt her breast….

The wonderful sensation thinking of her…and rehearsing the speech he would say on the day he would return from college and tell her he loved her.

And he thought of how wonderful it would be to sleep with her. But if a fellow felt the way he did about a girl—that wasn’t right.

Ski struggled back into the berth and Danny shoved himself against the wall.

“Jesus, I wish those bastards would break it up. How the hell we supposed to sleep?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Marvin Walker lay on the sofa, his nose buried in a magazine. He muttered something about taxes. Sybil Walker sat in her armchair by the lamp, a mending basket in her lap. The rays of light caught a far wall from the kitchen where Kathy studied her lessons.