Battle Cry - Leon Uris [137]
Harper and Paris nodded. “Look these over,” Huxley said, shoving some aerial recon photos at us. “Mac.”
“Yo.”
“When the patrol nears the Jap area, split into two groups. One stays back and sets up the big radio. The other goes in for observation. Use the walkie-talkies to get the information back to the first group. Transmit it back to us and get the hell out of there. We jump tomorrow.”
I nodded.
“All you men, remember: we need this information to set up our air and artillery strikes. Get your asses out of there and don’t get into any scraps if you can avoid it. Come back down the beach. We’ll be looking for you. The password will be Laughing Luke…any questions? All right then. You can deposit any valuables here. Take off all rings, buckles, and any other shiny objects. Report to quartermaster and draw camouflage gear, extra canteens, ammo—and get your faces blacked. You jump in forty minutes. Good luck.” We checked in our valuables and left.
“Ziltch!”
“Yes, sir—I mean yes, Sam.”
“Get Bryce over here on the double.”
“Yes, sir—I mean, Sam.”
Lieutenant Bryce entered the tent. “You wanted me, Sam?”
“Yes, Harper is taking a patrol out in forty minutes. I want you to go along.”
The blood rushed from Bryce’s face. He was very pale. “But the CP, Sam—I’ve been working like the devil to set up—”
“Sit down, Bryce,” he said. “Cigarette?” Huxley offered. “Tell me something Bryce, do you know the difference between a Jersey, a Guernsey, a Holstein, and an Ayrshire?”
“No.”
“Seabags Brown does.”
“I don’t see what that has to do…”
“What do you know about Gaelic history?”
“Not much.”
“Then why don’t you sit down some day with Gunner McQuade. He is an expert. Speaks the language, too.”
“I don’t…”
“What do you know about astronomy?”
“A little.”
“Discuss it with Wellman, he held a fellowship.”
“This is most puzzling.”
“What about Homer, ever read Homer?”
Bryce beamed. “Of course I’ve read Homer.”
“In the original Greek?”
“No.”
“Then chat with Pfc. Hodgkiss. Loves to read the ancient Greek.”
“Would you kindly get to the point?”
“The point is this, Bryce. What makes you think you’re so goddam superior? Who gave you the bright idea that you had a corner on the world’s knowledge? There are privates in this battalion who can piss more brains down a slit trench than you’ll ever have.”
“This is hardly the proper time—”
“It’s damn well proper. You’re the most pretentious, egotistical individual I’ve ever encountered. Your superiority complex reeks. I’ve seen the way you treat men, like a big strutting peacock. Why, you’ve had them do everything but wipe your ass.”
“Major Huxley!”
“Shut up, I haven’t finished. I don’t suppose it ever occurred to you that a Headquarters Company commander is the most useless command we can find for an officer. You’re deadweight, Bryce, deadweight.”
“I’ve done my best,” he whined.
“Bryce, we are proud of our officers in the Corps. Our men came up the hard way, through the ranks or Annapolis. I put in eight years of study at Ohio State and Navy to get my bars. It’s taken ten years for me to make Major. I’d be a captain yet if we weren’t fighting a war. Unfortunately our qualifications had to be lowered due to situations we can’t control. Since the outbreak of hostilities we’ve accepted hundreds of men, such as yourself, and given them commissions. Thank God the vast majority of these people have accepted their tasks, and more, they’ve found out the spirit that is the life blood of the Marine Corps. They’ll make damn fine officers. And the same goes for the thousands of enlisted people. They’ve all learned there is a price to pay for wearing a green uniform—tell me, Bryce why did you join the Corps?”
“I’d rather not answer that, Huxley.”
“Maybe you liked the blue uniform, big social doings—passport to notoriety?”
Bryce puffed jerkily on his cigarette.