Battle Cry - Leon Uris [114]
“Aw gee, Mac, I got a little squaw…”
“No war dancing for you, you come with me.”
“O.K., chief,” he said resignedly.
In forty-five seconds flat there wasn’t a radioman aboard the Jackson. I wished they could set up their radios that fast.
They found a bench in the Botanical Gardens. Andy lit a pair of cigarettes and handed Pat one.
“Not much like Christmas, is it, Andy?”
“I’m used to snow in the States.”
She laughed softly. “Here everyone packs up to go to the beach. I suppose we’re just plain upside down.”
“I’m glad I could see you.”
“It was nice of Mac to give up his pass. He’s a quaint old duck.”
“The old Marine—it’s guys like him that’s the real backbone of the Corps.”
“Where do you suppose you’ll be going?”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
“It was nice, having you Americans.”
“Pat.”
“Yes.”
“Were you…were you glad you met me?”
“I…don’t know, Andy.”
He loosened the too snug blouse Mac had loaned him and studied her face. She looked listless that moment, as though her mind were drifting back to other good-bys. Her brother and her husband. She had said farewell to them too, and now she was frightened.
“I mean,” she continued, “I like you well enough, maybe that’s why I’m sorry we met.” She stiffened herself to control the trembling of her body.
“Pat…look, I don’t know exactly how to say this, but I want you to know I’m glad I came to New Zealand and I’m glad I found you. I’m fouled up inside me—maybe it’s a good thing we’re shoving off…maybe I can get myself squared away.”
“That’s right, it’s best for both of us, Andy. Before we become involved in something we don’t want.”
“Yeah,” he cried, “that’s right. Everything is screwy—the whole world. You just can’t get tied up when you don’t know what’s going to happen from one day to the next. Especially with an outfit like the Marines, breezing through.”
“Do you suppose you’ll ever come back to New Zealand?”
“I don’t know…maybe when I get away and can think straight and you can too. Maybe we will come back. You never can tell about the Marines.”
“Stop, Andy! It’s silly talk. We both know you won’t come back…. War, war…damned war.”
“Pat, honey, you’re all upset.”
She closed her eyes. “I’ll be all right.”
“Would you do something special for me?”
“Yes.”
“Look, I know we’re just friends and all that. But, would you write me? Regular, you know. I’ve never got letters regular from a girl like the other guys…I mean, nothing to tie you or me down, but stuff about the farm and your folks and yourself. It would be real nice to get letters like that.”
“I’ll write you, Andy,” she whispered, “if you wish.”
“And I’ll write you too, Pat, and someday…”
“No…no someday, Andy. No more somedays for me.”
“Jesus! Almost midnight. I’ve got to shove, Pat, would you please go to the dock with me—or should I ask?”
She nodded and they walked swiftly and silently through the quiet streets. From the tram they walked to the gate by the guard shack on the dock.
“I’m glad I met you, Pat, and I hope inside me that I come back to New Zealand. Maybe we can—” He stopped. “Good-by, Pat.”
He kissed her cheek. For a moment he clutched her tightly to him, then drew back.
“Good-by, Yank, good luck.” Andy walked through the gate toward the ship. The heels of his shoes echoed through the deserted warehouses, while his form faded gradually from her view.
Pat Rogers clutched the iron fence and sobbed uncontrollably. “Good-by, my darling,” she cried….
At five minutes before midnight, my squad staggered up the gangplank. I saluted Marion and reported.
“Master Tech, Mac.” He returned the salute and checked me off the list.
“Colonel Huxley,” L.Q. snapped.
“Admiral Halsey, Bull Halsey,” Seabags belched.
“Chief Crazy Horse, mighty warrior massacred palefaces at Little Big Horn—”
“Aw shaddup, Injun…you wanna wake up the ship?”
“Yamamoto,” Speedy drawled. “I done lost my ship.”
“Fearless Fosdick, the human fly,” Danny said. The Feathermerchant drew up the rear. “Just plain Bill,” he groaned, and passed out.
I herded them below and tucked them in.