Battle Cry - Leon Uris [47]
“I don’t see anything funny, that’s all.”
“Can’t blame them for being jealous. That is a damned nice car. Besides, they’re getting frustrated. They’ve fixed your bed to catch you in a ‘short sheet’ for a week, and you never get in till reveille.”
Danny lathered his face quietly.
“Forget it, they’re only kidding.”
“Maybe a good clout on the mouth and L.Q. might keep it shut.”
“I wouldn’t be sore at L.Q. He answered for you at roll-call.”
“What do you mean? Roll call isn’t for twenty minutes.”
“Last night, we had an air raid drill. The Sarge was watching Ski. L.Q. answered up for you.”
“I…I’m sorry. I guess I blew my lid, Andy.”
“Better slow down, Danny,” Hookans continued. His big Swedish face was clouded and concerned. “We don’t want to see you shipped out of school.”
“Yeah, thanks…dammit to hell.” He nicked his chin.
“Forget it when you’re in class.”
“I can’t.”
“I know what you’re thinking. It’s wrong. Well, if you wasn’t shacking up with her, there’d be another guy in her bed.”
“She isn’t a tramp.”
“Yeah, I know. None of them are. But they all got to have it.”
“I sure want to be there when you fall, Andy.”
“Save your breath. They haven’t made the broad yet that can make old Andy go down for the count.”
Tech Sergeant Hale sat at his desk at the head of the class. His head rested upon one arm as he gazed down into the book. His right hand worked the key, sending dots and dashes into the earphones of the thirty men at the desks before him.
ASPFK KMTJW URITF LZOCC KPZXG HNMKI LOQEI TZCOV DERAP NOWSS DEBZO
Working some fifteen words slower than his accustomed speed he opened his eyes to fight off the monotony. As his fist sent code, the room was filled with the clicks of typewriters, almost in unison. He turned the page and looked down the rows of men. Stiff ironed khaki and field scarfs and glistening battle pins. Young faces with crew cuts; a slow recovery from the stripping of boot camp.
The Sergeant yawned. “O.K., we’ll try numbers now, six words a minute.”
20034 38765 23477 88196…the bell sounded, ending classes for the day. A sigh of relief arose as the men doffed their earphones, rubbed their ears and shook their heads to erase the dots and dashes. They arose and stretched.
“Zvonski and Lighttower, report back after chow. You fellows will have to take an extra hour of code each night this week to make up the test.”
“Goddam,” the Indian opined, “got a heap nice squaw in Dago, sarge.”
“If you don’t learn this code, Lighttower, we’re going to send you to the happy hunting grounds.”
Danny slapped Ski across the back. “Come on, you weren’t going any place anyhow. Let’s clean up for chow.” Marion Hodgkiss joined them as they left the building.
“Tough luck, Ski.” Danny and Ski lit up as they passed along the arcade toward their barracks.
“I know what’s coming through. But every time I go to type it, I hit the wrong key or something. You don’t think they’ll ship me out, do you?”
“For Chrisake, stop worrying,” Danny said. “We’ll skip the movie tonight and work in the head after taps.”
“I’ll help if you like,” Marion offered.
They rounded the corner at the far end of the base and caught sight of a platoon of Sea School drillers. The blue dressed men whipped their rifles about like button-controlled robots. Everyone stopped to look at them.
“Look at them bastards,” Ski said, “all over six feet tall.”
“I guess that’s where all the dress blues in the Corps are.”
“They sure can drill.”
“Funny,” Danny said opening the barracks door, “I didn’t even know Marines wore green until I got to San Diego.”
“Seriously?” Marion asked.
“Hell of a thing to admit. When I was a kid in Baltimore, the Marines from Quantico came up to play the firemen every year. They gave the whole base weekend shore leave for the game. Those guys were real giants, the peacetime guys. I remember how they looked all decked out in their blues—like some kind of gods, I guess. All the kids used to stand outside the stadium and watch them leave, with a girl on