O'hara's Choice - Leon Uris [126]
On this first night, the heads of charities, orphanages, churches, and hospitals all gratefully accepted envelopes from the Kerr Foundation.
Tomorrow would come upper-midlevel city and state officials. Republican ward bosses, prominent citizens, and upper-midlevel businessmen.
And the night after, the elite!
Horace did not throw the switch this year, passing the honor to one of his vice-presidents. He was alone, in the dark, in the master’s quarters, hit once again by that dull tingly pain. He stretched out on the chaise, unpeeled a cigar, and felt about the nightstand for the lamp and matches.
He could hear the lead trumpeter of the Baltimore Symphony splay the chilled air with angelic notes followed by massed choruses.
God, he wondered, how can you be so cruel? Why should any man, much less a good man like himself, be made to bear such suffering? Was he an incarnation of . . . not to think of such things, Horace.
Daisy no longer shared his bed. Her room, however, was close at hand.
“Horace?”
He grumbled weirdly.
“It is time for you to make an appearance,” she said.
Daisy turned up a lamp and saw him on the chaise trying to scratch a light from a match. There! The cigar was up and burning.
She came closer. He looked ghastly.
“I won’t be able to come down tonight. Make excuses that I . . . am indisposed . . .”
“What is it, Horace?”
“Indisposed. Come back when the circus is over.”
“I’m getting the doctor.”
“No, no, no. Joy to the world. Just say I got ahold of some bad oysters. That will keep them laughing.”
“I’ll send someone in to watch you and I’m calling Dr. Owens.”
“No, not Owens. I feel a bit tingly in my left arm and I seem to be foaming when I speak. I’ve had one of these a few days ago. A small stroke, I’d say. Comes and goes. When the house is cleared call that Jewish doctor at Johns Hopkins, Goldberg or Goldstein . . . Goldman. It’s about time I got something back for my donations . . .”
“You shouldn’t be smoking,” she said, reaching.
“Will you do as I say! For God’s sake, woman, let me enjoy my cigar!”
• 40 •
THE HORSE MARINES
December 27, 1891—the Naval War College
Zachary O’Hara sat on the side of his cot, pitched over, and fell on the blankets and pillows arrayed on the floor to catch him. He had trained himself to come awake an instant before he crashed and was able to break the fall, somewhat.
He lifted his head and tried to read the clock, but the eyes were too sore. An icy shower did him no good at all, was more like a herd of pounding buffalo.
Zach picked up the pillow and blankets, tossed them on the cot, curled up fetal-like, and spun into an annoying half consciousness.
Now then, where were we . . . ?
CONCLUSION/RECOMMENDATION #103
RIFLE CALIBRATION
The assault Marine must land, penetrate, form a perimeter, and dig in against a counterattack. He must prepare to fight twenty-four hours or more before expecting supplies and reinforcements. With orders to secure territory until relieved, there is no provision for retreat or defeat.
Marine assault gear should top out at a hundred pounds. More weight would slow his speed, drain his stamina, and hurt his efficiency.
THEREFORE: Kit, rifle, and belts of assault team should carry a trenching tool, poncho, toilet paper, bandages, bayonet, water, and ammunition for twenty-four hours of continuous combat. (Niceties—rations, soap, blanket, toothpaste, etc.—will come in later.)
The Marine must be a superior marksman and equipped with the most accurate rifle of the lowest caliber that retains stopping power.
Such a rifle should be between .25 cal. and .30 cal.
The point is: Because of his mission, he cannot expend ammo carelessly. He should not be ordered to come ashore with a fifteen-pound rifle that uses .45-cal. ammo.
With a nine-pound rifle and smaller-cal. ammo, the Marine can come ashore with 35 percent more ammo and a gain in accuracy of at least 50 percent.
Beyond 400/500 yards a modern Krag-Jorgensen rifle will double the accuracy . . .
The Marine will . . . the Marine will . . . over . . .