Battle Cry - Leon Uris [223]
The telephone man ducked with the reel of wire hanging from his hand as he awaited the signal to move for the CP. His covering fire raged. Huxley gave a signal and the man tore across the field like a whippet, with the wire unrolling behind him. He ducked into the safety of the hut, shakily cut the wire from the reel, and unstrapped the field phone from about his neck. Quick and workmanlike, he peeled the wire and screwed the ends under connecting posts of the phone. He held the butterfly switch down and blew into the receiver. He cranked the handle. “Hello Lincoln White, this is Fox CP.”
“Hello Fox, this is Lincoln White.” The phone man smiled and relaxed as he handed the phone to Huxley.
“Hello, Wellman, this is Huxley. What’s the word back there?”
“Hello, Sam. George Company is getting plastered, drawing a lot of casualties. We’ve got forty or fifty wounded here in the aid station now. Harper says he is ass deep in jungle and trying to move to connect a flank with Fox Company but his position is vulnerable. If Fox can push them out of that thicket, Harper will be able to move forward. Can you move Fox up, Sam?”
“It would be suicide. There’s an open field up here and we can’t even see them.”
“Hang on a minute, Sam. There’s a runner from George Company here now.”
“Where the hell is Shapiro?” Huxley muttered as he waited for Wellman.
“Hello, Sam…are you still there?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“George Company is pinned down. The Japs are picking them off one by one. Do you want me to have Whistler move Easy Company anywhere?”
“Stand fast. Tell Harper to dig in as best he can. I’ll call you when we can figure out how we’re going to dislodge these bastards. By the way, any word from the alligator?”
“Still a couple hours away.”
“How are the wounded holding up?”
“Fine, splendid. No squawks, good bunch. Sisters from the mission are acting as nurses. Doing a good job under the circumstances.”
Huxley replaced the phone in its case just in time to see the unmistakable, squat figure of the little captain of Fox walking toward the hut several yards away.
“The goddam fool, he’s begging to get hit,” Marlin said.
“Take cover, Max!” Huxley yelled.
The men in the CP gazed in awe. Max Shapiro was moving as unconcernedly through the hailstorm of lead as if he were taking a Sunday stroll through a park. Huxley rubbed his eyes as if he thought they were betraying him. The Captain was acting like he was a holy image or something inviolable. The legend of Two Gun Shapiro was no idle slop-shute story, it was quite true. His appearance was like magic and put iron into the embattled boys he led. He walked from rock to rock and tree to tree slapping his boys on the back as if he was coaching a football game. His poor vision through the thick-lensed glasses became alive and crystal clear. Huxley couldn’t decide whether he was divine or insane. No mere human could be so utterly fearless for his life. Huxley watched him promenade across the clearing with the bullets singing around him.
“You over there,” Shapiro called. “Do you want a purple heart?”
“Hell no, Max.”
“Better move your ass then, because there’s a sniper fifteen yards from you in that tree. Aim true, son, don’t waste any shots.”
“O.K., Max.”
He strolled into the hut, wiped the sweat from his face, and took a cigarette from McQuade’s breast pocket. He pulled the smoke from McQuade’s lips and lit his own cigarette with it. “Hi, Sam,” he said.
“You may think you’re smart, Max, but if I hear of another exhibition like that I’ll….”
“Aw calm down, Sam. Them slanteyes couldn’t hit a bull in the ass with a bass fiddle.”
“Did you see Harper?”
“Yes,” Shapiro said, wiping his glasses. “Somebody ought to give him a pack of gum. He’s been chewing the same piece for a week. If it gets any harder his teeth are going to fall out.”
His irresistible manner seemed to lighten the tension. “Well, how does it look?” Huxley said.
“Not good. We can’t get connected with George Company and they’re getting cut to pieces. They’re like flies in that brush, Sam, maybe a battalion of them, and they