A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [7]
“In the Corps it’s perfectly legal, so when you’re in the Marines you do as the Marines do.”
“How much dirty money did you take from them?”
“We have over nine thousand dollars in total, including the bonus and stuff like that. And don’t forget, I get two hundred a month from the government for my wound.”
Siobhan fumed a bit at the revelations.
“I’ve been too many places, Siobhan. I don’t want to be another Irish cop all my life.”
She snapped her brassiere shut and put on her top. “I suppose,” she said, “I can always find my way back to Brooklyn if I have to.”
Chapter 2
FALL 1945
Their honeymoon became a sort of pioneer epic. Daniel O’Connell continued to wear his Marine Corps uniform with the “ruptured duck” over his breast pocket, and he speeded up his pace every time they walked past a men’s clothing store.
Siobhan O’Connell lost her newlywed nervousness. At the end of the day’s drive they either found a motel or the usual four-story brick hotel used by traveling salesmen, occupying a corner of the main cross streets of whatever town they were in. The similarity of rooms, the fishy-eyed desk clerks, and stuttering bell boys was striking. They were mid-range, six-to-eight-dollar-a-night rooms.
Siobhan usually waited in the car while Dan signed in at the registration desk. The fishy-eyed clerk guarded the gates to the kingdom like a true centurion. By the time they got to Cleveland, Mrs. Siobhan O’Connell opened her purse and slapped their marriage certificate on the desk.
They glowed each morning and even more so when the correct safe dates appeared on the calendar. Siobhan realized that there might be other channels of gratification during the abstention part, but she had a whole life ahead to work on it. For now, though, abstention was hell.
CHICAGO!
A married buddy, Cliff Romanowski, lived in Chicago. Cliff had lost an arm in the earlier battle of Tarawa. Beautiful reunion. Cliff’s wife, Corinne, was six months pregnant and all popped out. Good omen, Siobhan thought.
After a homemade dinner featuring Polish sausage, the four went out to paint the town. Dan mustered his bad leg into duty and did a sort of polka, which seemed to be the national dance of Chicago.
The wives were deliciously tolerant of their lads’ drinking and subsequent hell-raising. They all crashed with the daylight.
Next day, noticeably slowed, Dan took them to a Greek restaurant, the anxiety of their first meeting converted into nostalgia. At Cliff and Corinne’s apartment, they ended up sitting on the floor in a circle, propped up by pillows, and Siobhan’s toe trying to creep up inside Dan’s pant leg.
The Marine Corps. Reminiscence began with the sweat of a double-time hike, then drifted into their patented tomfoolery and sophomoric behavior. Beer busts were recalled with kindness.
“And me and O’Connell and Quinn hit the railroad station just as the last liberty train was leaving. Everything was full, the seats, the floor, the platform where you could sleep standing up. So the three of us climbed into the overhead luggage rack, where there was already men laying end to end. And an hour out of Wellington, the luggage rack comes crashing down! The lights went out and I’ve got to tell you, I felt a lot of Marine ass!”
New Zealand had been a never-never land with the bursting scenery, Maoris, flocks on the skyline, colonial ways. Siobhan was tempted to ask about the New Zealand women but held her tongue. It was the night to let their men erupt.
Now came the war.
“…remember that little runt?”
“…yeah, Weasel from Arizona.”
“…nobody thought he’d hold up.”
“…great fighter.”
“…little Weasel.”
“…remember…”
“…geez, I forgot about that bout of malaria.”
…remember…remember…for God’s sake, remember me, Marine.
“I was in the Oak Knoll Naval Hospital near Frisco when you guys hit that beach at Saipan. I finally found a guy, remember Prentice in Intelligence?” Cliff asked.
“Yeah, sure do.”
“He told me what happened to you. All the casualties on the beach. But I think the worst was the