Battle Cry - Leon Uris [72]
“Can one of them…I mean, Mac, well…I never asked her much about herself…I always thought they were rough and hard, like the books make them.”
“They’re women just like any other women. You’ll find all kinds, same as there are all kinds of Marines.”
“She’s so gentle and ladylike, and she likes to learn about things. I…just couldn’t picture her with…Mac, it doesn’t add up. She’s wonderful…why would she be doing that?”
“The first time I went to a joint, Marion, I was just about your age and just about as innocent. The girl had a copy of some high-tone book on a stand beside the bed. I forgot the name of it. The thing that I always remembered about her was the fact that I was so surprised that she read a book. It happened that she was a very nice girl, a college graduate. She had her story. Everyone does—like I said, there’s all kinds.”
“What would you do if you were in my shoes, Mac?”
“You’re the only guy that can answer that, Marion.” I lit the smoking lamp and thought hard. “They’re funny kind of women, I’ve known lots of them. A good many of them have been kicked around…and men, well—just so many pigs after the same thing. They know all the angles, all the answers. Maybe that’s why Rae fell in love with you. You were something new for her.” I nursed my beer and fought hard to find the right words. “When a guy gives them a decent shake they get a loyalty like a hound dog. Those girls don’t care to look around or cheat. Their man is something special to them. They’ve got a tenderness that maybe all of us want but few guys are lucky enough to find. But you’ve got to pay a price for it, you’ve got to be pretty big and erase a lot of ugly pictures from your mind….” I fumbled and floundered.
“You’ve met Rae, Mac,” he said.
“Rae is a lady, she has class—and she loves you.”
“Remember that night at the airstrip?” I nodded. Marion took a letter from his pocket. It was from the magazine that had accepted the story called Mr. Branshly’s Retreat and wanted more of the same.
“I don’t know how it started, Mac. Just a few words at first. She came on the boat tired and we’d talk, mostly about me and writing…and then all of the things I’ve had inside me seemed to come out. I could talk to her without being afraid…I could say things I’ve never been able to say before, and she’d close her eyes and listen to my ideas and we’d talk them over. It was easy…she seemed to understand that I was trying to reach for something.”
“I think I understand.”
“And Mac, I read to her…sometimes all night.”
I peered outside. The rain was beginning to let up.
“Rae’s more than a woman to me. She isn’t really bad—I know it. She’s wonderful and kind and gentle. I couldn’t write without her.”
“Haven’t you answered your own questions, Marion?”
He forced a little smile. “I don’t guess anything else matters, Mac.”
“Why don’t you do me a favor, Marion? Start running your network the way you’re supposed to.”
“I’ll be all right now—and thanks, Mac.”
A loud chorus of ten drunken Marines boomed from the bar.
“As we go marching,
And the band begins to PLAY,
You can hear them shouting,
The raggedy assed Marines are on parade.”
McQuade and Burnside finally fell on the deck, the duel ending in another draw.
Corporal Hodgkiss ran up the gangplank on the dot of twelve-thirty. He grabbed her and held her so tight she almost broke in half. She clung to him, trembling like a scared little puppy.
“Marion, Marion, don’t leave me again.”
“I love you, Rae.”
“Look,” she said, opening her purse, “I’ve got a present for you.” She handed him a pair of socks. “I knitted them myself. Not very good, the first pair. I didn’t know your foot size or anything.”
Later, Rae entered her apartment first. He followed her slowly. Rae flicked on the light, closed the door, and threw her coat across the divan. He stood there, his back against the door, fumbling his barracks cap awkwardly.
“What’s the matter, Marion?”
“I…I’ve never been