Battle Cry - Leon Uris [164]
“Hello, fellows.” Joe smiled sickly.
“So you’re the bastards that have been swiping our wire. We should have known it was Mac’s crew.”
“Plenty for all,” Spanish Joe said meekly.
“There oughta be,” the sergeant from Third Bat bellowed, “we laid ten miles of it yesterday.”
Joe turned to Andy. “Shall we let them have it?”
“Yeah,” Andy answered. “It ain’t fair sides. There’s only ten of them. Besides, they’ll probably turn us in.” They trudged from the scene dejectedly.
“Jesus,” Joe moaned, “Ole Mac is sure going to be pissed off at us for getting caught.”
Captain Tompkins, the Regimental Communications Officer, stormed across the mess area heading directly for the battalion command shack. Gunner Keats paced behind him. “But Captain, sir, are you sure it wasn’t a mistake?” the Gunner asked.
“Mistake, my ass. I’ve been suspecting your men for a long time. I got them red-handed this time.”
“But, Captain, I’ll warn them.”
“Nothing doing, Mr. Keats. I’m going to take this up with Huxley.” He flung the door open and headed directly for Huxley’s office and gave an impatient rap.
“Come in.”
“I’d like to speak with the Colonel, sir!” Tompkins roared.
“I can explain,” Keats said.
“Take it easy, Gunner. What can I do for you, Captain?”
“The regimental net today, sir. I’d like you to read some of the messages transmitted.” He threw a sheaf of message pads on the desk.
Huxley read:
ENEMY ATTACKING POSITION K-3 IN PLATOON STRENGTH. HAVE WEAPONS BRING UP 37MM’S WITH CANNISTERS.
37MM’S BUSY WITH COUNTERATTACK AT POSITION K-5. SENDING FOUR FIFTY-CALIBER MACHINE GUNS AT ONCE.
Huxley read several more and shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with these messages, Captain Tompkins.”
“Nothing is wrong with them, sir. They were transmitted by the First and Third Battalions. Kindly look at the messages that your men sent.”
Huxley read again:
THERE WAS A YOUNG MAN FROM BOSTON,
WHO BOUGHT HIMSELF A NEW AUSTIN
THERE WAS ROOM FOR HIS ASS AND A GALLON OF GAS,
BUT THE REST HUNG OUT AND HE LOST ’EM.
“See what I mean, Colonel Huxley? Your men are always sending stuff like that over the air. Thank God, it’s in code.”
“I see,” Huxley said seriously. “I’ll take proper measures to see that there is no recurrence of this.”
“Thank you, sir. I’d hate to have to report this to Division.”
“It won’t happen again, Captain.”
“May I be excused, sir?”
“Yes, and thanks for calling my attention to this.”
Tompkins left, slamming the door behind him.
“Phew,” Keats sighed.
Huxley fiddled with the message pad for several moments and carefully read the contents. “Dammit, Keats, this is serious.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They’ve got to cut this out. It is lucky that Tompkins didn’t report this to Division.”
“Yes, sir.”
Huxley looked at the messages again and up at the red-faced and stiff Gunner. They broke into laughter simultaneously.
“Say, this is a good one, Gunner…I mean, for Chrisake warn them to cut it out.”
“O.K., Colonel,” Keats said, smiling.
“Give them a crap detail, digging ditches or else take away their shore leave.”
“Er…take away shore leave, Colonel?”
“Well, don’t bother. Just rant and rave. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, sir,” Keats said, heading for the door.
“And for Chrisake, Gunner, tell them to lay off the Third Bat’s wire. Colonel Norman jumped me about it yesterday.”
Keats opened the door and turned. “They’re a fine bunch, sir.”
“Yes,” Huxley agreed, “the very best.”
Seabags and L.Q. laid their meager resources on the cot. L.Q. counted. “Only four shillings. We can’t go ashore with that.”
“Pretty sad, cousin, pretty sad.”
“Did you try Burnside?”
“Yep, he’s broke. Got cleaned in a poker game at the NCO club.”
“How about you, Marion? Could you spare a bob or two till pay call?”
Marion flipped a half crown over to them. “That’s the sum total.”
“Jesus, we just got to get finances. A couple of nice broads lined up and everybody suffering from pecuniary strangulation.