Battle Cry - Leon Uris [140]
“It’s an order and no more talk,” Harper said.
“Look here…”
“Both you guys stop playing Marine and get the hell out,” Ski said from the deck. His face was blood-drained but his eyes were open. He trembled. They turned to Pedro.
Pedro leaned close. “Your knee is busted, Ski.”
“Don’t you think I can feel, you asshole.”
Pedro dropped to all fours, shaking his head.
“What’s the matter, Pedro?”
“I was hit coming down here…just my shoulder…put some sulfa and a pressure bandage on…I be hokay.” McQuade propped him against the rock and went to work.
“The sonofabitches are gettin’ loaded on saki so’s they can get up the guts to Banzai us again,” Rackley said, peering through the rain.
Paris and Harper leaned close to Pedro. “Can Ski hold them?”
“He is in terrible pain…he is very fine boy….”
“Can he hold them?”
“With God’s help,” Pedro said.
The rain gushed. Wild cries beat up from the woods. The trapped men lay close behind their cover and awaited darkness.
Another call came through. “This is the ridge…what is the picture?”
“This is Harper. We’re waiting for dark. We’ll break one by one. The radioman will never make it. He’s going to hold a rear guard.” Harper bit his lip. Ski winked and smiled, feeling the helpless plight of the officer.
The rain quit. A gray shroud of dusk crept over them. They gently moved the Feathermerchant to a point where he could sit and look through a cleft in the big boulder. Harper handed him the BAR, the grenades, and his pistol.
“Know how to shoot this piece, Ski?”
Ski nodded. He felt no pain. Harper smashed a rifle butt into the radio, then buried the piece. It was near dark now. The cries from the woods grew. The Japs had almost whipped themselves into the frenzy to charge again.
“Anything…anything I can do…?”
Ski’s lips parted. “Has…has anybody got a rosary? Mine’s in my pocket. I…can’t…reach it.”
Pedro gave him his, kissing it first.
“Thanks, Pedro…tell Danny not to be pissed at himself. It don’t make no difference to me nohow. Susan…Susan…aw, you guys better shove….”
“Does it hurt, Ski?”
“Naw, I don’t feel nothin’.” He clutched the rosary. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow.
“Pedro, move out,” Harper said.
“I go last. I want to tell him what to do if the pain comes once more.”
Harper nodded to Paris. He slapped Ski on the shoulder, then dropped flat, slid through the mud for a few feet, and sprinted toward the hill. One by one they broke for it—the BAR men, Rackley the rifleman, McQuade.
“They’re about ready to charge,” Harper whispered. “Dammit, I’m not leaving this kid!”
Pedro grabbed the officer. “Ski ain’t scared. Where’s your guts, Harper?”
“Oh, God,” he cried and dashed toward the ridge.
“You comfortable, Ski?” Pedro asked.
“Yeah.”
“I shall pray for your soul each night.”
“Pray for your own ass. I know where I’m going.”
Pedro disappeared into the black night. Ski was alone.
They must all be safe by now, on the ridge, he thought…never fired this damned BAR but once…hope I can remember…pain coming back….
His wet finger slipped to the trigger as the grass before him began to stir. Hail Mary…Mother of God…pray for us…now and at the…hour…of our death….
“Marine! You die!”
I helped Pedro back in. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Harper said.
“They’re starting to give him the business.”
“Marine! You die!” The haunted echo drifted up to us.
“I hope they don’t take him alive.”
Danny snatched a BAR and ran to the ridge. I caught him and spun him around. “We can’t leave him down there!” he cried. “What kind of chickenshit outfit is this? I’m going down there!”
I slapped his face till it was white. He fell back sobbing. “He knew it, Danny! He knew he wasn’t coming back. You’re a Marine, Forrester! Act like one,” I said quietly.
“Marine! You die!”
“Let’s shove, boys.”
I turned and looked once more into the blackness below….
PART FOUR
Prologue
IT WAS all over but the shouting. My squad didn’t feel much like shouting, though. We didn’t have the strength—or the inclination. After Guadalcanal it was never quite the same. They weren’t kids anymore.