Battle Cry - Leon Uris [77]
“Cut it!” I yelled, busting him in his smeared face. “For Chrisake cut it!”
Ski grabbed my blouse, dazed, but still tried to pound his fists into me. “Quit!” I begged, hitting his jaw. He spun and sagged to his hands and knees, shaking his head. I jumped him and pinned his arm behind him, and as he tried to struggle loose reached into his pocket. “Stay still or I’ll bust your arm off,” I warned. Ski stiffened for one more try; then as I found the bottle he grew limp. I let him go. He fell against the bulkhead and buried his hands in his bloody face and sobbed.
“Where did you get this stuff?”
Andy came into the head. “Christ on a crutch, what’s the matter with you, Mac? You’ll get busted for this.”
“The little sonofabitch tried to kill himself.” I panted for breath. My stomach felt all floppy. “Get Danny and Marion in here, on the double. And be quiet—don’t wake up the barracks.”
They raced back in their skivvies, followed by Andy.
“Guard that door, Marion. Don’t let anybody in. Give me your skivvy shirt, Forrester.” Danny peeled it off and I went to a sink and soaked it with cold water. I grabbed the crying boy by the hair and lifted his face and swabbed off the blood as easily as I could.
“He had a bottle of sleeping pills. Must have lifted them from sick bay.”
“Oh, God,” Danny whispered.
“Wring this goddam thing out and put more cold water on it. I didn’t mean to hit him so hard, the little bastard went berserk.”
We slowly brought Ski to his senses. His eyes were glassy and his head hung limp. He stared blankly at the deck. Danny knelt beside him.
“It’s me, Danny—your buddy. Can you hear me?”
Ski nodded.
“What did you try to kill yourself for?”
He lifted his head slowly and looked at us. His eyes filled with tears and he tried to open his mouth to speak. His lips quivered, a groan came out. He dropped his head again and shook it slowly.
“Was it Susan?”
He nodded.
“Did you get a letter?”
He nodded again.
Danny frisked his pocket and came up with an envelope. He stood up and moved under a light. His hand trembled and a deathly hush came over us. All we could hear was the uneven breathing of the slumped boy. Danny bit his lip and closed his eyes and stared down at Ski.
“What is it?” Andy asked, at last.
“She’s going to have a baby, another guy’s. They’re going to be married…the rest of it is just…apologies…”
We were too shaken to move. There wasn’t much anybody could say now.
“A Dear John letter,” Andy hissed. “Them goddam women, them dirty no good bitches!”
“Pipe down, Andy.”
“He needed a break, dammit. What’s he got now.”
“That won’t help, Andy,” I said, kneeling by the Feathermerchant. “Ski, we’re your buddies, you know that.”
“Yeah…”
“If we turn you in, they’ll send you to the psycho ward. You want to stay with us, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“We’ll take care of you, Ski,” Danny pleaded.
“You won’t try this again—promise?”
“No,” he croaked. “I won’t try it no more.”
“Try to get some sleep.” I aided him to his feet. “I’m sorry I had to work you over.”
“It ain’t your fault, Mac,” he mumbled, walking slowly into the barrack.
“We’d better keep an eye on him,” Andy said. “I’ll take a two-hour watch.” He followed Ski out.
“I’ll stand the next one,” Marion said.
“You guys all better hit the sack,” Danny said. “I don’t think I can sleep anyhow.”
Before evening chow the next day, First Sergeant Pucchi called me into the company office.
“Hey, what’s up, Mac? The Feathermerchant just came in and took out all the money he had riding on the books. Finally getting that broad out here?”
“What!”
“Yeah, almost three hundred bucks. Say, what did he do, run into a tank? His face is sure chopped up.”
“He got