Battle Cry - Leon Uris [245]
Seabags’ body was slick with sweat. Waist high by the Fourth of July, that’s what we say about the corn in Iowa, he thought. Might be cool there tonight…before the summer sets in for fair. A man can hear the corn grow in the hot weather…just walk through the field and hear it crackling. I’d sure like to slick up with clean jeans and a fancy shirt and maybe have a little square dance at the courthouse. These guys don’t know about square dancing…they think it’s hick stuff…don’t know what real living is…Now you aleman with the old left hand and now give out a right and left grand…meet your little honey and stomp and kick and now give her a Rocky Mountain do si do…give that little girl a twirl and promenade home…Swing your partner round and round…now do si do your corner maid…now form a little circle and come to the bar and let’s us have a right hand star….
Seabags’ foot tapped in rhythm to his whispered call on the chain at the foot of his canvas cot.
He lowered himself past me. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Seabags?”
“I’d better see Pedro and get me a little seasick medicine.”
Pedro Rojas dozed by the desk in sick bay. The short butt of his smoking cigarette reached his fingers, burned him with a start. He reached for his wallet and withdrew the faded picture of a girl and studied it for several moments. He placed it to his lips and kissed it gently.
I am not so unhappy to come back to Texas now, he thought. I am one fine corpsman…the Doc, he is going to make me a chief. My very good friends will not know old Pedro when he get back to San Antone, but they are very nice peoples anyhow. I shall take good care of them.
“Pedro.”
“Ho, Seabags. Now what is ailing a big strong gyrene such as you are?”
“You know, the old seasick.”
“Seabags! I give you already enough junk to float this ship.”
“Aw come on…don’t give me a bad time. I’m gonna start puking again.”
“Jesus Maria! Well, hokay. I hope they send you home on an airplane.”
“Don’t say that.”
He gulped the medicine down and winced.
“Seabags! You make goddam sure you eat one fine breakfast—you hear me!”
“Yeah, I hear you.” He put the glass down. “I…I guess I better get back and try to sleep.”
“Hokay, hombre.”
“Hey, Pedro…did you ever go square dancing?”
“No, but I do know some very fine Mexican dances.”
“Yeah?”
“Ho, Pedro is the finest dancer…look, sit down…I going to show you something. I show you step that if you can do I give you a bottle of uncut alcohol.”
I had to have a cigarette. I lowered myself to the deck and followed the blue light toward the head. I stopped for a swig of water at the scuttlebutt. Someone was behind me. I turned quickly. It was the Injun.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, Mac.”
“Trouble sleeping?”
“A little. I saw you get up….”
“What’s on your mind, kid?”
“Mac, this sounds silly. I want to say something.”
“Go on.”
“You know how I’m always saying I want to go back to the reservation?” I nodded and saw his grim face through the half shadows. “Mac…Mac, I really don’t want to go back. I want to stay in the Marine Corps…like you. Do…do you think I’d make a good gyrene?” There was a strange sad plea in his voice.
“You’ll make a hell of a gyrene.”
“You mean it?”
“Sure I mean it.”
“You know, there ain’t really nothing back there on the reservation. I got a lot of buddies here. I like the Corps…I…want to stay.”
I put my arm around the Injun’s shoulder. “Come on, for Chrisake, get some sleep. You know, we might be making some new corporals after this shindig.”
Marion squinted under the small lightbulb near a sink and his lips moved as he repeated the words he read. Danny walked into the head.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Hello, Danny.”
“I’m sweating like a pig, I can’t sleep. What are you reading?”
Marion handed him the pocket book of poems. “Under the wide and starry sky…. Dig the grave and let me lie…. Glad did I live and gladly die.” Danny glanced up and looked soberly at Marion.