Semper Fi (36 page)

“See, so with this part, the apples are scratted. That means ground down.”

Jim’s lips quirked. “Yes, I know what it means. You’ve certainly gotten up to speed on cider making, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have.” Cal grinned. “I don’t do anything halfway.” He walked around the machine, swiping his arm across his forehead. Indian summer was in full swing, and they both wore only white T-shirts and jeans although it was October. “And here’s where we squeeze the juice out.”

“It’s huge. Your cousin did an incredible job.”

“Only the best for Clover Grove. I made sure of it.” And paid dearly for it, but Cal didn’t mention that since Jim hadn’t. “Come on, let’s test out a batch.”

The press whirred to life, and Cal pulled the door to the cider house shut, even though there was nobody to disturb since Sophie was at school and Mrs. O’Brien had taken Adam to the market. He wanted Jim to have the whole experience, and flicked on the overhead light. It was only a single bulb, but it shone brightly enough that workers could safely operate the press even at night.

They watched in easy silence as the machine did its work. Cal asked, “When are you going to start harvesting the rest of the apples?”

“Next week. There are some that weren’t damaged. Not enough, but at least we’re ready with the press now. Even if they’re bruised, they’ll work fine here.”

Cal watched the first juice squeeze out with satisfaction. “I think we should toast. Make it official now that the paperwork is done.”

“All right. To the new and improved Clover Grove.” Jim smiled widely. “You get the glasses, and I’ll collect the juice.”

Cal was about to open the door when Jim sputtered and swore. Spinning around, Cal found Jim with one of the press receptacles in his hand and juice splashed all over him. Cal couldn’t hold it in, and his laugh echoed over the hum of the press. Jim glared, but couldn’t stop from smiling, and soon they were both laughing so hard Cal had to hold onto the wall.

“You have to hit the release button instead of just yanking on it.”

Juice dripped off the end of Jim’s nose. “You don’t say?”

Giggling helplessly and in a most undignified manner, Cal peeled off his T-shirt over his head. “Here. Let me help.” He blotted at Jim’s face with the cotton. “How’s it taste?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Jim grinned, still laughing. “You sure we should make hard cider out of it?”

“Booze is where the money is, my friend. Of that, I’m sure.” Jim’s hands were dripping, and without thinking, Cal lifted one to his mouth. “Let me taste.” He sucked Jim’s finger between his lips, his tongue swirling around it to gather the sticky, tangy juice.

As he came back to his senses, Cal froze. Jim was staring at Cal’s mouth. Then he slowly eased out his finger, and Cal waited to be pushed away. Instead, Jim pressed his next finger to Cal’s mouth, and Cal bit back a groan as he took it between his lips. He licked and sucked Jim’s skin clean finger by finger, both of them breathing shallowly. Jim’s eyes were riveted to Cal’s mouth.

When Cal released Jim’s hand, their gazes locked, and they clutched at each other, hands scrabbling and mouths open. They stumbled to the wooden floor, the press still humming. Jim tore off his T-shirt, revealing his lean muscles and the fair hair sprinkled across his chest.

Cal rolled on top of him. Jim’s skin was damp from the juice, and Cal licked, circling his tongue around one nipple and then the other as Jim moaned, his fingers digging into Cal’s bare back.

Shifting down, Cal lapped at Jim’s bellybutton, the tang of apple and Jim’s sweat sweet on his tongue. He was afraid to talk and break the spell, but couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “Missed you. Missed this. Jesus, you taste so good. I want you so much.”

Jim’s fingers tangled in Cal’s hair, and he panted, lifting his hips in invitation. “Don’t stop.”

Cal made quick work of Jim’s belt and unzipped his fly. He mouthed at Jim’s hardening dick through his shorts, inhaling the musky scent deeply. His own cock was aching in his jeans, and he rutted against the floorboards.

He gripped the waistband of Jim’s drawers, and—

Daylight flooded the cider house as the door slid open. Cal sprang from Jim, scrambling to his feet as he blinked at the doorway, the adrenaline of desire crystallizing into icy terror. He made out Mrs. O’Brien’s silhouette as she backed away and was gone.

“This will not be an easy operation.”

Shoulder to shoulder with the other men on the deck of their transport ship under a cloudy night sky, Jim and Cal shared a look.

Cal leaned in, muttering, “At least they’re giving it to us straight this time.” His breath tickled Jim’s ear.

The lieutenant went on. “This island is only a few hundred miles from the Japs’ home islands. They will defend it with as great, if not greater tenacity than they have shown before.”

There was no sound, but Jim could sense the ripple of unease and dejection that traveled through the troops.

“We expect heavy casualties on the beach.”

While Jim, Cal and Sully listened impassively to talk of the seawall they had to scale and the threat of Japanese paratrooper attacks, the squad replacements shifted from foot to foot, their eyes growing wider and wider. When the lieutenant was done, he dismissed the men, and most milled about on deck.

One of the new boys, a blond barely old enough to shave more than a single whisker, approached Jim. “Corporal Bennett?”

Sully glanced over. “Nah, that’s Johnny.”

Jim had to smile. “What is it, Tim?”

Tim swallowed convulsively. “It’s just…it sounds like a suicide mission. Something the Japs would do, whaddya call it…”

“Kamikaze.”

“Yeah, like that! Eighty to eighty-five percent casualties on the beach? Even if we make it, how the hell are we supposed to fight the Japs by ourselves?”

Cal appeared. “It’s just like your card games, Gambler. You win some, you lose some. Worrying about it won’t do a lick of good.”

Tim nodded. “Okay, Sarge.”

“But from what I’ve seen, you win a hell of a lot more than you lose. Don’t worry.”

Jim smiled to himself as he leaned against the railing and turned to the sea. As always, Cal had a way of putting the men at ease, whether it was with a joke or a smile or a kind word. Jim was still smiling when Cal took a spot at the rail, brushing against him. A shiver flashed through Jim’s body.

“Are you cold? My God, have we finally sailed far enough north that we need our field jackets again?”

Jim chuckled. “Not quite yet, but close. I’m sure I’ll change my mind soon enough, but I welcome the chill.”

“Amen.” Cal peered at the sky as the ship powered onward, and then pointed to the horizon. “The Southern Cross is almost gone.”

Indeed, the constellation hung low in the sky. Soon it would slip away completely. “I’ll miss it.”

“Yeah, it’s just about the only thing. The southern hemisphere can keep everything else. Especially the mosquitoes. Sully’s doing well, though. Maybe being out of the heat helps?”

“Maybe. It’s a strange disease.”

After a minute of comfortable silence, Cal spoke. “I hate lying to them.”

Jim inched closer to Cal, pressing into him. “We have to. They’ll learn for themselves soon enough. But you were right—there’s no sense in worrying. It won’t help. This ship’ll get us there whether we worry ourselves sick or not. Landing should be in what—two days, you reckon?”

Cal nodded. “I wish it was tomorrow and we could just get it over with. Hell, eighty-five percent.”

The thought that this really could be it—that he and Cal and the others would likely be dead soon—sent a fresh tendril of dread spiraling through Jim. “It’s in God’s hands now.”

“I suppose it is.” Cal blew out a long breath. “You know, Jim…if I don’t make it…” He seemed to be battling with himself, the words lodged in his throat.

“You’re going to make it. We both are.”

“Okay, it’s a deal. Neither of us buys it on this Jap island.” Cal extended his hand.

With a smile, Jim took it, shaking firmly. “Deal.”

On the morning of April first, they devoured steak and eggs in the mess, the nervous energy palpable. That it would be the last meal for many of them was something Jim tried to keep from his mind with limited success. After chow, they dressed in their battle gear and organized their ammunition and combat packs. Jim hefted his mortar ammunition bag as dawn broke. Up on deck, they milled around, their squad sticking together.

A command rang out. “To your quarters! On the double! No troops topside.”

Squeezed back into their tiny compartments wearing all their battle gear, they waited. As time ticked by, the heat climbed. Jim whispered to Cal, “So much for the cooler weather.”

“Yeah, it’s null and void when we have to wait down here like we’re in a can of human sardines being roasted.” Sweat beaded on Cal’s face.

Tim cleared his throat. “Why can’t we wait up top?”

As if in reply, the firing began.

“Don’t want us to get strafed on deck, Gambler,” Cal said. “Those Jap planes get awfully low, and their machine guns can nail us right here on board.”

When the sailors finally opened the hatch, the men streamed out, and Jim gulped in the fresh air. They went to their assigned area on deck, and Jim couldn’t help but marvel at the sight unfolding before him.

What appeared to be hundreds of Japanese and American planes droned overhead while the massive fleet of US ships assaulted the beach. The noise was incredible, a cacophony of manmade thunder and lightning. The fleet stretched as far as Jim could see. Maybe they’d get through this.

When H-hour arrived, they were keeping low in their amtrac, full speed toward the beach. Soon a strange sound floated back to the troop compartment. Jim looked at Cal. “Is that…?”

“Laughter.” Cal shouted to the machine gunners up top. “What’s so funny?”

“They ain’t fighting! Barely fired at us at all. We’re walking across the goddamned beach like it’s Sunday on Cape Cod.”

With Cal in the lead, they all climbed out of the troop compartment to sit on the edge as their amtrac—and hundreds of others—sailed on, unopposed. As Sully led the men in a round of “Back in the Saddle Again,” Jim breathed deeply, the tension draining from his body. The spray of the ocean was cool, and as the others whooped and laughed, for a moment he allowed himself to believe they truly were conquering heroes.

Ahead, the other troops landing were cool as cucumbers, taking the beach in combat formations but dodging no enemy fire. The odd shell exploded in the distance, but nowhere near them. Dotted with lush farm plots, this island was a stark difference from the lunar surface of Peleliu.

Cal leaned in to be heard over the raucous singing. “Seems like they mixed up their battles. They said the last one would be easy and this one would be a killer. But I’ll take easy any way we can get it.”

Jim nodded, gazing around in wonder. A dark thought skidded into his mind. “Think the Japanese know about April Fool’s?”

Although he laughed, Cal’s expression was pinched. “I sure hope not.”

“You know they’re not going to just let us take this island. Not this easily.”

But then the others were poking them, and they joined in the singing again.

On shore, Gambler grinned as they shouldered their gear and clambered easily over the seawall, which had been blasted down to little more than rubble. “This isn’t so hard.”

Jim said a silent prayer as they moved inland and left Okinawa’s gentle beach behind.

His heart thumping painfully, Jim buckled his belt and yanked his damp T-shirt over his head before racing out of the cider house. Mrs. O’Brien was striding toward the paddock, her green dress fluttering. Jim called out, “Wait!”

She stopped, but didn’t turn. When he reached her, Jim realized he had no idea what on Earth to say. He swallowed down a surge of bile. “Please…”

Amazingly, when Mrs. O’Brien faced him her eyes were as kind as ever. She touched his arm briefly. “Oh, child. I’m sorry to barge in like that. I should have thought.”

“But…” Jim struggled to make sense of her words. His skin prickled hotly. “Why would you think that I…that we…?”