Redemption - Leon Uris [195]
Johnny Tarbox did not know if he knew any Jews. He had seen some in his travels as a Royal Marine and actually suspected a member of his platoon was one.
Lieutenant Jeremy had known a few Jews here and there and found them to be decent sorts if treated decently.
They had a number of discussions and sought information about the Jews and everything they came up with was slimy…unsavory…crooked…and altogether enough to make one very uneasy.
They were trying to look at the person behind Lieutenant Jeremy when he entered Pig Island. Rory was first to see an accordion among the man’s possessions, which he took to be a positive sign. He was a good-sized fellow, rough-hewn. Obviously he did physical work, which belied the rumor to the contrary.
“Lads,” Jeremy said, “this gentleman is our vet, assigned to us on detached duty from the Zion Mule Corps. We’ve been chatting for the past hour and I know he’s going to fit right in with the gaffer squad. Mordechai Pearlman…right to left, meet Serjeant Major Johnny Tarbox, First Serjeant Rory Landers, and Private Chester Goodwood.”
Behind a wild beard came a split-tooth smile and a handshake capable of breaking bricks.
“Well, lads,” Jeremy said to the three who gawked, “take care of our man here and show him the ropes. Now, let’s get cracking on rewriting the chapters on ills, ails, and sanitation.”
When Jeremy departed the awkward silence continued.
“Well now, Doctor, how’s your English, sir?” Johnny ventured.
“Fine, how’s yours?” Pearlman answered.
That helped.
“I have not been knighted so I am not a sir, and my doctor’s diploma is somewhere in Minsk and not accredited by the British Army. Matter of fact, I’m not even a member of the army. I am an attached specialist…however…I know mules like you know women, Tarbox.”
That loosened things up. “Now that’s saying a mouthful,” Johnny said, beaming.
Quiet again.
“So, maybe we better be talking tocklus,” Pearlman said. “You are thinking, what is this Jew. No?”
“Aw, you know, we were sort of wondering, never having met anyone of your religious persuasion person-to-person,” Johnny said.
“Sure, we’re curious,” Rory said. “Like, New Zealand isn’t in the middle of Moscow.”
“I think I like all of you,” Pearlman said, “and I think you will all like me. I come filled with peace and love. Good?”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Goodo.”
“But no Jew jokes, good? Who of you beat the Australian heavyweight?”
“Guilty,” Rory said.
“After I softened him up,” Johnny added.
“No doubt you can also beat me up. But let me say and guarantee you, absolutely, with saber in my hand, I can Peel you into delicate slices, so thin, like smoked salmon. And I think we should understand this—”
“Because you’ve taken enough shit,” Johnny finished his sentence. “Take off your worries and stand at ease, you’re among cobbers.”
“Cobblers? You are shoemakers?”
“We’ve a small squad. It’s us and the Lieutenant, and you’re most welcome here.”
Pearlman’s bear hug on Johnny clanged. Chester was all but crushed by it. Rory feinted a couple of punches and embraced him.
Everyone sighed in relief a number of times and then broke into laughter.
“So, what do we call you? Doctor?”
“They call me Modi back in Palestine.”
“Modi?”
“Modi, short for Mordechai.”
“Modi, aye, that’s a fine name, indeed.”
Late into the night the lads were praising Allah for Modi’s arrival. Not only had he given the corrections on “Ills, Ails, and Sanitation,” but he had edited the entire manual.
“You boys have done a fantastic job, working in the dark like this,” Modi complimented.
“I want to tell you, the Brit manual might as well have been written in Russian,” Chester said. “I bent my mind trying to translate it—untwist it, that is.”
“This is just what’s needed. Very simple. And you tell me everyone in the battalion is a horseman.”
“That’s right.”
“Very, very many things the same. But mainly, the men are comfortable around a big animal…. That will cut out weeks and weeks of