Battle Cry - Leon Uris [157]
On and on it went during those weeks in New Zealand, cycle after cycle of malaria leaving a wake of weak and wrecked men. When we hit the hard training it would be tougher this time than anything we had ever known before. Homesickness and loneliness sets in quick when a fellow isn’t feeling right. We’d get pissy drunk on a weekend just to bring on the malaria and to be able to escape the drudgery of soldiering. Malaria at least gave us a two-week rest.
Not only were we the best singers and ball players in the regiment but there was never a closer-knit bunch of men in the Corps than Headquarters Company. Sure, we had our inter-platoon rivalry with intelligence and the corpsmen but we stuck together almost to a man. Friendship was infectious. New transferees into the company were astounded by it.
As our company was smaller than the line companies we needed only half the space in our mess hall. L.Q., a great pep boy and organizer, came up with a plan. We put it to the other sections in the company and it was greeted with enthusiasm. He planned to cut the mess hall in half and build a recreation room for our own use. Without bothering to await official sanction, we sent out scouting parties and stole wallboard and lumber wherever we could locate it. The project went into high gear almost immediately.
We all turned to after duty hours. Spanish Joe was invaluable on the “borrowing” parties. He could sniff out a pound of nails or loose lumber in the remotest and best guarded places in camp. When we had walled off half the mess hall we “borrowed” a potbellied stove, and wood from which a ping-pong table, several chairs, and writing tables were built.
Highpockets, at first aggravated over the thefts, finally blessed the project provided we paid for the equipment in the future.
We held a powwow and after a stirring talk by L.Q. decided to build the finest club in New Zealand. Each man would chip in a pound a month from his pay and deposit it in Pucchi’s safe. Marion, Paris, Pedro and me were chosen as trustees. The dues were strictly voluntary, but each squad leader was warned to see that his men volunteered at pay call.
After the first pay call any skepticism vanished. A party scoured Wellington for secondhand furniture and the clubroom boasted six overstuffed sofas and a dozen comfortable armchairs. A big radio was purchased and we erected an aerial that enabled us to get reception from any part of the world. Next came a phonograph and hundreds of records. After Marion protested and got up a petition from the music lovers, we bought a few albums of good stuff, too. Lamps, rugs, writing paper, footstools, another stove, several hand-painted nudes, typewriters, and many other items poured in after each pay call.
L.Q. had an uncle who was a minor-league official in one of the Hollywood studios. From him we received a package of two hundred photographs of almost every star and starlet in filmland, personally addressed to the company. They covered the entire wall space.
We bought oilcloth for the mess tables and set up spice racks. Then came our crowning glory. We cut off a corner of the club and built a bar. It was the best bar in the country, at least it was the only one that had a foot rail. Pine walls, varnished, the biggest and best mirror that money could buy, and a statue of the sexiest broad the country could offer adorned it.
Huxley broke all tradition by allowing the company to purchase its beer ration in a unit. Because there were many non-drinkers and some men were always on liberty a large portion of our allotment was never purchased. By buying all rations at once we benefited by several extra cases. Originally it was feared that unlimited beer each night would lead to trouble. We were anxious to maintain the privilege and we policed each other thoroughly and slapped limits and severe fines or temporary bans on heavy drinkers. The beer was sold at a profit which enabled us to drink in luxury and cut our dues to six shillings a month.
There was nothing like our club in the entire Corps. We guarded it jealously.