Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 08 - In Dangers Path

Only a three-star no-good sonofabitch with bells would take advantage of agirl like Martha when she was in her cups. And the reason she's drinking is that she's a widow, your best friend's widow.

«Here,» one of the lieutenants said, handing Martha a paper cup full of beer. «Until your pitcher gets here.»

«Thank you very much,» Martha said. «And yes, I would.»

«Yes, you would what?»

«Like to dance. My very dear friend here is a lousy dancer.»

«I'm a good dancer,» he blurted.

«Okay, then you dance with me,» she said, and stood up and held arms out to him.

The last thing in the world I want to do is put my arms around her.

He stood up, and she gave him her hand and led him to the dance floor. He carefully avoided any body contact beyond the absolutely necessary.

«I get the feeling, very dear friend, from your rigid body and the worried look on your face, that you think I am misbehaving.»

«I think you've had a little too much to drink,» Jim said. «So have I.»

«In which case, I will ease up,» she said. «The last thing I want to do is embarrass you.»

«I didn't say you were embarrassing me.»

«You didn't have to. I know what you're thinking. I could always tell.»

Christ, I hope not.

He saw over her shoulder that the waitress had delivered their shrimp and drinks—two scotches, no coffee—and a pitcher of beer.

«We have our shrimp,» he said.

«Damn,» she said, but she turned out of his arms, and, hanging on to his hand, led them back to the table.

He was surprised—and greatly relieved—that she didn't touch the scotch, and * drank only a little of the beer from the pitcher. He was also surprised that they were able to eat all of the steaming pile of boiled shrimp. And then he remembered he hadn't had any lunch.

Which is why I felt the booze, and allowed myself to forget that a decent human being doesn't look up the dress of a friend, who incidentally happens to be the widow of my best friend.

Or completely forgets Janice!

Jesus, what about Janice? What the hell would I have done about Janice if something had happened?

«I hate to rain on this parade,» Martha announced, as she daintily wiped her fingers and mouth with a paper towel. «But 1 have had a very busy day, and tomorrow is going to be busier. And if we're going to have a nightcap at the San Carlos, we're going to have to leave this charming company now.»

«We could pass on the nightcap at the San Carlos,» Weston said.

«I wouldn't think of it,» Martha said, as she rose to her feet.

The men shook hands, and one of the lieutenants repeated, «Welcome home, sir.»

In the car, Weston repeated, «We could pass on the nightcap at the San Carlos's bar.»

«There's something I want to show you there,» she said. «And didn't you notice that I was a good girl and didn't even touch my scotch? I'm entitled to a nightcap.»

It was too cold now to have the roof of the Buick convertible down, or even to have the windows open. In a matter of minutes, as they headed down the two-lane macadam road back to Pensacola, Martha's perfume overwhelmed the smell of the red leather seats.

note 39

The Cocktail Lounge

The San Carlos Hotel

2030 6 March 1943

The bar was crowded with Navy and Marine Aviators and their women, but it was captains and majors, an older, more senior crowd, than the aviation cadets and lieutenants in Zeke's.

After a minute their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and Jim Weston saw an empty banquette. He took Martha's arm and led her to it.

«You forgot, huh?» Martha asked, as she slid onto the seat.

«Forgot what?»

«That you weren't going to touch me.»

«Oh, Jesus, Martha!»

«Your intentions, I know, are very honorable,» she said.

A waitress took their order. Martha ordered a scotch, and after a moment's hesitation, Weston said to make it two.

«You said you wanted to show me something?»

«I do. But first, something's been bothering me.»

«What?»

«How come you were reported KIA?»

«How did you hear that I was?»

«Daddy told me you had been reported KIA on Luzon on April 3, 1942. He'd seen some kind of a report.»

«You're sure of the date?»

«I'm sure of the date. It was another of the red-letter days in my life.»

«That figures, then,» Weston said, as much to himself as to Martha.

«What figures?»

«On April first, I deserted,» he said. «I remember the date clearly, because it was April Fools' Day, and that seemed somehow appropriate.»

«You

deserted

?»

He nodded. «I deserted. Probably in the face of the enemy. I didn't mention that while reciting my inspiring tale of heroism to your mother.»

«I don't understand, Jim.»

The waitress delivered the drinks before he could reply.

He raised his to Martha.

«Thank you for a very interesting afternoon,» he said.

«Interesting?» she asked.

«How about delightful?»

«You don't mean that either,» Martha said, taking a sip of her drink.

«What do you mean by that?»

«I told you, I can always tell what you're thinking. Mostly you've been uncomfortable.»

«What gives you that idea?»

«We're back to I can read your mind,» she said. «Finish the story.»

«Okay. I was on Corregidor. That's the fortress in Manila Bay…«

«I know.»

«Luzon was about to fall. Corregidor was going to fall. I decided I didn't want to become a prisoner. I had some idea I could get out of the Philippines and make myself useful as a pilot. So I just took off. Deserted.»

«Just like that? You just walked away?»

«No. It was a little more complicated. I worked for a major named Paulsen. He knew what I was thinking. So he sent me—and Sergeant Everly—to Luzon, ostensibly looking for generator parts. But he knew we wouldn't be coming back. We didn't. We used the money we were supposed to buy generator parts with to buy a boat, and headed for Mindanao.»

«It didn't bother you that whoever needed the parts wasn't going to get them?»

«There were no parts to be bought, and Paulsen knew that when he gave me the money to buy them. But there's an interesting question. What if I had stumbled on some parts? Would I have gone back to the Rock?»

«Would you have?»

«I don't know. Moot point. There were no parts. I went to Mindanao.»

«Which constituted desertion.»

«Right. Major Paulsen stayed, of course, knowing he was either going to get killed when the Japs took Corregidor, or become a prisoner. As a good Marine officer, he couldn't bring himself to desert. But without actually coming out and saying I should, he helped me to desert. Interesting question of morality.»

«In other words, he was like Greg, and you were like… you?»

«What do you mean by that?»

«For Greg, everything was black or white. You're smarter. You understand that everything is really one shade or another of gray.»

That sounded like a shot at Greg. Did she mean that, or is that the booze talking?

«Yeah, I suppose so. I can now rationalize, of course, that I was of more value as a guerrilla on Mindanao than I would have been as a prisoner, and now I'm going back to flying. But every once in a while I look myself in the mirror, and there's the guy who deserted his post in the face of the enemy. Another interesting question of morality.»

«What's this got to do with you being reported KIA?»

«I think Paulsen must have reported me KIA, two days after I didn't come back.»

«Why?»

«There's a couple of possibilities. He had to say something when I didn't come back. Desertion was becoming a real problem. We got lectures about our duty as Marine officers: 'Marine officers don't desert; Marine officers man their posts until properly relieved.' «