Battle Cry - Leon Uris [75]
“I brought you an extra blanket,” she said, “it gets cold.” She seated herself gently on the edge of his bed. The scent of Chanel No. 5 drifted into his nostrils. What can a man do? He brought her down beside him and kissed her.
“No, I must get back.”
“Stay a minute,” he pleaded.
She kissed him sweetly and suddenly pulled away.
“What is it?”
“You’re just like the rest of the Marines. You are all alike.”
“Me? Like a Marine? Why baby, I’m maaad for you.”
She kissed him again, once more withdrew. L.Q. wheezed very hard. “Tell me you love me, L.Q.”
“For Chrisake, I love you,” he panted.
“Can’t you say it sweeter?”
“I’m maaad for you.”
“How much?”
(Chin up boy, she’s moving in.)
“Very much,” he parried and drew her down beside him and held her tightly.
“No! I’m afraid you’re just like the rest of them.”
There was a long, long silence. She snuggled into his arms. He did not stir. There were times when a man has to be firm.
At last Nancy East gave in. “I’m yours, L.Q.,” she said. L.Q. Jones answered her with a long, loud snore. He was fast asleep.
“Mail Call!” The men flocked about the duty NCO. As he shouted the names on the envelopes you could see a smile light up on a face. You could see the anxious strain of those waiting for the sound of their names. The Feathermerchant stood on the fringe as Corporal Banks passed the mail from hand to hand. Then it was over, always too soon. And those with word from home drifted to their bunks smiling in eager anticipation. Ski walked away quickly, hands in pockets. There was no letter for him, again.
“Don’t talk so much and deal.” We were playing poker in the barrack.
“The name of this game, gentlemen, is five-card-draw. Ante up a dime, jacks or better to open.”
“How do you like that Bryce, what an asshole.”
“Ninety-day blunder if I ever seen one.”
“Openers?”
“Beats the hell out of me.”
“Up to you, Andy.”
“Open for two bits.”
“I’ll call that bluff.”
“Cards for the gamblers?”
“Holding a kicker, Andy?”
“Maybe.”
“Two bits.”
“Call and raise you a half.”
“What you got you’re so proud of? Call you.”
“Three whores.”
“Talk about craphouse luck, here’s my openers.”
“How about a little studhorse, gentlemen?”
“What about Bryce, Mac, ain’t he a pisscutter?”
“I’m not supposed to give my views on the elite,” I parried.
“Sonofabitch better stop with that Stanford stuff and talk like we was people.”
“Pair of treys is boss.”
“The price of poker goes up…fifteen cents.”
“I fold.”
“Bastard is going to end up with a hole in his back, him and his big education.”
“Trey’s still boss.”
“Two bits.”
“Beats me.”
“Seven…pair of deuces…trey’s still boss.”
“Check.”
“Two bits.”
“Nothing and nothing…trey’s boss.”
“Check.”
“Two bits.”
“Raise you two bits.”
“Right back at you.”
“Call…what you got you’re proud of?”
“Deuces and sixes.”
“Threetreys…had them wired.”
“Talk about craphouse luck…well that cleans me. Lend me a finsky till payday.”
“O.K.”
Sister Mary and the Feathermerchant kibitzed in for a moment.
“We got an open seat, gentlemen.”
“No thanks,” Marion said, “I don’t indulge.”
“Not for me. One more pay call and I’ll have her out here, boys,” Ski said.
“They got a USO show and a dance…anybody want to come?”
“Naw, I feel sorry for them damned USO troupes. They feel so sorry for themselves because they feel sorry for us. Besides, most of that crap is pretty old.”
“Aw, they’re just trying to build your morale.”
“Yeah, cousin, my morale’s shot. Why don’t they go to a dogface camp? They feel sorry for themselves, too.”
“Why, the last time I seen a USO show I plumb cried myself to sleep.”
“Give me a weed.”
“Butts on that cigarette.”
“Deal.”
“Seven-card stud.”
“Every time you get the deal you pull that crap. Next time it will be all red cards wild.”
“You know what they call it in