Redemption - Leon Uris [263]
“Landers…”
“I laid a little more on you than I should have.”
“I don’t know if I can get back.”
“Sure you can. Suck these candies and slowly sip both these canteens dry. That will set your mind right. We’ll stay here till the sun is under us, then we’ll make it up to Post #1 and hole in there for the night.”
As the sun began to go for the sea, I helped him to his feet. He was a little better but didn’t have much stamina.
“I’m carrying you piggyback,” I said.
“I feel the fool.”
“Just grab the ride. Up you go. Put your arms around my neck. There’s my man. Not too far to go, down the gully two hundred yards and another two hundred up to Post #1.”
“Can you manage?”
“You’re light as…a fucking mule….”
I’d done the right thing by not murdering the bastard, but I sure as hell didn’t want to become his friend. I lost whatever little sleep was due me thinking about him and Georgia. Till now I had attained a measure of control over my longing for Georgia, but with this prick here, my hunger for her was constant.
Despite me staying out of his way, we had a lot of business to do. His Ghurkas doted on him, but otherwise he didn’t have friends. Why the hell, out of all the troops in Anzac, did he want to be my cobber?
Even though I assured him that men save men on the battlefield all the time as a matter of fact, his gratitude was beyond the ordinary. He began leaning on me, knowing I could cut through red tape. I usually delivered. He liked me more and more. Every time I saw him, it felt like I was getting a punch in the mouth.
I did have to admire the way he snapped back. As fate would have it, I needed a favor from him. Modi got the dysentery bad and it scared the hell out of me. Fearing more for Modi’s life than my own bitterness, I begged Dr. Norman that if there was any way to save Modi, he just had to do it for me.
You know how it is with doctors, they always carry a little something in their kit that generally isn’t on the market. He gave me some kind of elixir for Modi, warning me that it contained diluted opium.
As Modi plugged up, I calculated that Calvin Norman and I were square. We owed each other nothing more.
I was helping unload some new leather about a week after Norman arrived and looked up to see him at the paddock. “Landers, I have to speak to you,” he said seriously. Well, he was always serious, but today seemed a bit more so. “It’s a personal matter, actually.”
Calvin didn’t have a full face like a jolly man. His grim personality had stretched the skin over his cheekbones tightly and whatever was annoying him now had him very taut. The first thing that came to mind was that Georgia had sent him a letter with my name in it.
I checked for Farting Ferdinand. The big bugger was shooting south.
“The beach looks quiet,” I said. “Up for a dip?”
“Sounds excellent.”
For obvious reasons I checked Norman out as he undressed. Well, Georgia got no great bargain with him in that department. We did the Anzac whore’s bath, sitting deep enough to cover our shoulders.
“You warned me when we went out to tour the lines that there was no possibility of setting up a surgery closer to the trenches.”
“Never can tell which post the Turks will hit or which one we will hit. We try to keep each other from sleeping during the night.” I was relieved that this had nothing to do with his wife and me.
“So,” he said, “back to your two original suggestions. I have to establish a surgery either in Widow’s Gully or under the Red Cross tents. I had hoped to be able to give frontline treatment. Damned mule ride or the litter-bearers’ run to Widow’s can take up to two hours down from the lines. As you said, Gallipoli has certain built-in realities.”
“It’s a crying shame but we lose an awful lot of men bringing them down.”
“Gallipoli,” he said, “seems to be one long cry. A few more surgeons, a few more Ghurka teams will help. I hope they get here soon.”
“I want to ask you