Battle Cry - Leon Uris [76]
“A bullet, another bullet, six, whore, jack…first bullet bets.”
“One thin dime.”
“Once, just once.”
“They got a dance after the show. Any of you guys going?”
“Can’t stand them bitches they haul in.”
“Yeah, stick around them long enough and they’ll have you going to church.”
“The part that makes me scream is when they look at you with them baby blue eyes and tell you how much they give up to do this horrible hard work—anything for our boys in uniform.”
“‘Momma doesn’t usually let me go out with Marines and sailors.’”
“Yeah, anything for the war effort…ace jack bets.”
“Fifteen centavos.”
“Yeah, they act like a bunch of goddam martyrs. Back home they’d be dying on the vine.”
“Deal, cousin, and you won’t have so many cards.”
“Where you figure we’re going, Mac? They must have something special picked out for the Sixth.”
“Scuttlebutt says Wake Island.”
“I’d sure like to hit Wake.”
“Holcomb was in the Sixth in the last war.”
“You mean the BIG war?”
“Yeah, the commandant is keeping his eye out for the Sixth.”
“Two bits.”
“Call.”
“One card down.”
“Chicken crap, huh, a little straight.”
“Beats my two pairs.”
“A little progressive poker, gentlemen, dime ante. Somebody’s light…Seabags.”
“Pawdon.”
“Jacks or better to open.”
“I sure hope Ski gets that woman out here. I offered him a sawbuck last pay call but he turned me down cold.”
“Proud little bastard. Works around the clock. I don’t think he’s been ashore since we’ve hit Eliot.”
“Yeah, I try to give him a couple odd jobs to throw a couple of bucks his way.”
Andy Hookans threw his cards in and stood up. “I’m going down to the slop shute. Lend me a couple bucks, Mac.”
I pushed a deuce over to him.
“I hope Ski doesn’t get it broken off in him. He’s too nice a kid. He oughta lay off them goddam broads.” Andy stomped from the barrack.
“What’s biting his ass?”
“I think he’s just got it in for all broads in general.”
“Got an open seat, men?” Sergeant Barry, of the telephone squad, slipped in between the sacks and purchased some matchsticks.
“Cost you twenty cents to get in, Barry. Progressive. Whores or better to open.”
“Cut them deep and weep, cut them thin and win.”
“Goon, deal…you couldn’t stack crap with a shovel.”
It was near 2400 hours when I got back to the barrack. I had cut the beer bout short as there was another Huxley Special coming up the next day. I left McQuade and Burnside to battle it out.
I entered and walked to the head. As I came into the room I spotted Ski standing at the far end of the long row of sinks. I moved towards him and Ski turned his back. Ski had begged off running the obstacle course that day to take sick call. The Feathermerchant was no sick-bay soldier by a long shot. What he lacked in size, he more than made up with plain old piss and vinegar. I figured he was upset because he hadn’t heard from his girl. Nothing tears a guy down so fast as no news or bad news from home. So, I had let him have the day off and didn’t press him about it.
Ski shied away from me. I thought he was acting a little strange. “You O.K., Ski?” I asked.
“Yes,” he whispered, still with his back turned, and quickly slipped a little bottle into his trouser pocket.
“Sure you aren’t sick?”
“Leave me alone, will ya?” Ski’s voice was shaky and cracked. I moved over to him.
“What you got in that bottle?”
“Leave me alone.”
“I said what have you got in that bottle?”
“Mind your own goddam business,” he hissed and brushed past me. I caught him by the shoulders and spun him around. Before I could utter another word he pounced on me like a wildcat. I was loaded with beer, and he caught me one in the guts. I went to the deck. As he turned to go I put a flying tackle on him and brought him down.
I didn’t want to lower the boom on him, but Ski was clouting me all over the joint. I tried holding him off, but he was like crazy. I let a right fly and landed square on his mouth, but he kept coming, kicking and winging in from all angles. He hooked me against the bulkhead and brought one up from the boondockers…. I