Battle Cry - Leon Uris [167]
The dancing was soft and smooth and numbers were played on request…a nice feed, nice talk, and dancing in the slow, easy atmosphere. The officers made their appearance and took tables we had set aside for them. Generally, at affairs of this nature, the officers and their escorts made only token appearances. However, this particular night was so free of the usual drunks and noise and the dance so pleasant that they decided to squat.
L.Q. had cleaned up several of his skits and put acceptable lyrics to old songs in deference to the ladies. He ran a swell show for an hour while the orchestra grabbed a cup of tea or two. He led some community singing and everyone joined in with the gusto of people nice and tight and enjoying themselves.
Me and my date shared a table with L.Q. and Gale Bond, who was visiting Wellington from Palmerston North, and Pat and Andy. They jumped to their feet as Colonel Huxley approached the table.
“Sit down, please. Mind if I join you?” He pulled up a chair.
We were honored at being singled out for a visit. We introduced our dates and poured a long drink for him. “I want to thank you for doing such a splendid job, L.Q. I’m proud of the way the boys are conducting themselves.” Everyone agreed that it was delightful and that they were all proud. “It really is swell,” Huxley said. “I hope you don’t mind the brass hanging around.”
“Not at all, sir,” I said. “After all, they kicked in their quid.”
Huxley smiled. The orchestra began playing. “Er,” the skipper stammered, “do you suppose I might have your permission for a dance with Mrs. Rogers, Andy?”
The Swede beamed. “Yes, sir.”
He looked at Pat. “I’d be delighted, Colonel,” she said, wrinkling the corners of her mouth with a smile. We arose as Huxley gallantly took Pat by the arm and led her to the dance floor. Huxley obviously knew his way around a dance floor. They glided smoothly to the strains of “When the Lights Go On Again All Over the World.”
“You dance delightfully, Mrs. Rogers.”
“Do call me Pat, Colonel. I’m not in uniform, you know, and I won’t whisper it to a soul.”
“All right, Pat.” Huxley smiled at her friendliness and at being put at ease by her. “I must admit,” Huxley said, “I have ulterior motives in asking for this dance. I wanted to meet Andy’s girl. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Don’t tell me you bother yourself with the love affairs of nine hundred men.”
“The happiness of every one of my boys concerns me, Pat.”
“You know them all, I suppose?”
“Yes, every one of them.”
“You are an amazing man.”
“I like Andy. He’s top stuff.”
“And he adores you, Colonel. All your men do.”
“Oh, come now, Pat. There is little in the battalion I don’t hear.”
“Then you must have heard wrong. I don’t think any of them would change to another outfit, except…”
“Except that Highpockets works them too hard,” he said, feeling completely comfortable in her presence. She was clever and had loosened his tongue and he enjoyed the exchange of amenities as they danced. “Don’t look so surprised. I don’t mind being called Highpockets—just so they don’t call me the old man.”
“I’d be very angry if they called you the old man.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers.”
“That is quite all right, Colonel.”
The other couples kept a respectful distance from Huxley and his partner.
“I’ll wager,” she said, “that old Mac put you up to this.”
“I’ll wager you are right.”
“Do I pass the acid test?”
“I don’t know how that lumberjack ran into such a streak of luck.”
The music stopped. Pat had an intuition that he wanted to say more to her. “Could I interest you in buying me a coke?” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the bar.
“But…”
“Don’t worry, Colonel. I’ll handle Andy.”
“We’ll start tongues wagging, Pat, they’re starting already.”
“Come