Six of One

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Six of One Page 32

by Rita Mae Brown


  "I got a lotta faith in the U.S. Marines. I also got a lot of faith in those Nips up there."

  "Funny those guys don't surrender. There's no way off this piece of real estate." David studied his blue cigarette smoke.

  "From what everybody says, the sons-of-a-bitches don't believe in surrender. They die and go directly to the Imperial Digs," Bill snorted.

  "Funny." David took a deep drag.

  "What?"

  "That human beings can be so different from one another. Doesn't make sense."

  "Fuck, I can't stand this smell. Think we can push these carcasses over the side? Be kinda protection." Bill grimaced.

  "Yeah, if they don't fall apart." David peered underneath him at the disgusting sight.

  "How long do you think they've been dead?"

  "Not more than two days. In this climate it doesn't take long, you know?" David crouched low and slid his arm under one soldier's waist. "Crawl around here and get this guy's shoes."

  Billy obeyed. "Goddamned bastards have such little feet. You can't strip them for nothing useful."

  They edged the body over the rim. Maggots rained on them.

  "One more. Hold it in, Billy Boy, don't puke. This hole is in bad enough shape."

  "I can't look at the guy's face. The rest I can take, but not the face."

  "Know what you mean." David tried to pull his shirt over his nose.

  With a struggle they pushed the second hunk of rancid meat up and over. The men slightly above them blasted into the decaying hulks. Flesh splattered like rotted persimmons. David and Billy crouched in the hole, their hands holding tight onto their helmets.

  "Welcome to the South Pacific," David joked.

  "Land of hula girls and eternal sunshine," Billy chimed in. He liked David. They'd already been through a hell of a lot and David was a man who'd lay his ass on the line for you. At first Extra Billy shunned him because he was Jewish. Once he got used to it he had a hard time remembering why he had shunned David in the first place. Runnymede had a few Jews. They were industrious, clean and marvelously good-humored. For some reason Bill had got the message early in life that Jews were different, different meaning bad, and stay away. All that seemed so far away and so stupid now.

  "You looking at Mary again?" David asked.

  Without realizing it, Bill had pulled Mary's picture out of his pocket and was staring at it. "Huh?"

  "Hey, Romeo, don't show your wife these sights."

  "Yeah, yeah." Bill thrust the photo back in his pocket.

  "I forget what women look like." David put his hands behind his head and looked up at the sky.

  "I don't forget what they feel like." Bill laughed.

  "I hear the Russian women are fighting same as the men. And Poles and people like that have whole units made up of women. Nazis won't fight 'em," David told him.

  "Why the hell not?"

  "They're more ferocious than we are. No shit."

  "I can tell you my mother-in-law ought to be in one of those units. Sweet Jesus on water skis, that woman can bitch. Put a gun in her hand and she'd clear out a battalion."

  "Please Louise, huh?"

  "Yeah. Nothing I do satisfies the old biddy."

  "Don't take it to heart. Most mothers aren't over-fond of losing their daughters. If I saw you coming down the aisle I'd run put my girl on a train for San Francisco."

  Bill growled, "You really know how to hurt a guy."

  "Thanks, Bill. I didn't think you cared." David pushed Bill's thigh with his boot.

  "I guess I was kind of a bastard when I got married. Still wet behind the ears. I was so dumb I thought every wall was a door."

  "Whatta ya mean, 'was'?" David laughed. "You're the meanest son-of-a-bitch I ever met. A real meshuga."

  "What's that?"

  "Meshugana. Crazy, man, you are crazy. You've been busted down to a buck private twice in one year. Slug one more sergeant and you'll be out on your ass."

  "Yeah, well, this ain't exactly the Chalfonte mansion. I could do with an eviction notice."

  "No way, buddy. I'm here to watch over you. You get a piece of shit like that on your record and you'll leave World War II to join the ranks of the unemployed," David advised him.

  "I'm not so sure I'm ever going home again." Extra Billy was forgetting to be flippant.

  "Everybody has ups and downs. This happens to be very down—we fell off the continental shelf and are approaching the lowest point on earth." David fished around in his pocket for something.

  "Whatcha looking for?"

  "Candy bar," David told him.

  "Iron guts. How can you eat with our protective wall up there?" Bill jerked his head upward.

  "Couple of dead Japs aren't going to get me off my he-man diet."

  "Levy, you're something, you know that?" Bill rooted around in his back pocket and fished out a very melted chocolate bar. "If you can eat this I swear II take you to Fannie Jump Creighton's Sans Souci and buy you the best meal in the entire state of Maryland." Bill handed him the mess.

  "You're on!" David unwrapped it and licked the paper.

  Three hours later David and Extra Billy were still cramped in their sloppy hole. Lieutenant Kaneko, not half a football field away from the two stranded Americans, was having his own problems. He'd lost over a third of his men in two days. A cultured, handsome young man, Kaneko knew not one of them would ever see his homeland again. He had married just before the war started, a brilliant match socially. He imagined what it would be like if he could live to 1960. Kaneko was an expert horseman. He dreamed of himself taking jumps in full-dress uniform. He dreamed of his wife, her skin the color of fresh wheat. He dreamed of children he would never father. He would die here on Okinawa. He believed in a greater Japan. It was worth dying for. Still humans dream of life. He had written a long letter to his wife. He prayed that the American who found his body would have the decency to deliver the letter. He wondered about the two men pinned below him. Every now and then he could hear rippling laughter fly out of the foxhole. Incredible men, he thought. He had been trained to think that Americans were monsters. The weeks of fighting had led him to believe they were men much like himself. They had different ways, perhaps they weren't as cultivated, as educated, but they were worth respect. They fought like demons for men who had no emperor, no hall of heroes. That he could not understand. Why did they fight? From what he could gather, the average GI had as much political dedication as would fit in a thimble. It didn't slow them down in the field. Lieutenant Kaneko regretted he would never visit America.

  Private Suga wanted to send another round into the bodies of their comrades. Kaneko stopped him. "Save your ammunition for the living."

  Lieutenant Kaneko didn't like killing. He wondered if anybody did, truly. Even the Yanks.

  Night crept around Extra Billy and David. In the twilight you could see, but not for long.

  "Shit. Looks like we are spending the night here," Bill exclaimed.

  "We still got daylight in us. It could be worse." David tried to make himself more comfortable.

  "You know what really burns my ass, Levy?"

  "What?"

  "Man, I hate being called a Yank. I'm from the South. I hate that so bad I want to drop leaflets on every Jap on every island in the South Pacific."

  They took turns watching and sleeping. Deep in the night David was on watch. He thought he heard a slither. He softly shook Extra Billy awake.

  "They're coming."

  Bill woke, wild amounts of adrenaline pumping into his bloodstream. David pointed to the direction from which he heard the sound. Either it was men or it was the largest snake on earth. "What do you think?" Bill asked.

  "I say let's stay here in the hole and let them come over the side. We can kill them. If we crawl out of here they'll blast us from the machine gun nest. At least this way we've got a fighting chance."

  "Roger." Bill checked his rifle and pulled off the bayonet in case he couldn't maneuver the rifle in such close q
uarters.

  The slither drew closer. Bill went wet with fear. Oceans of sweat rolled from his armpits. David held his mouth tight. If he'd opened it his teeth would have chattered. Waiting seemed worse than combat. Closer and closer the sound came The next instant three Japs flung themselves over the side. Bill ripped one with his bayonet. The other two were at David. Levy fired and took half of one guy's face off, but not before the other Jap plunged a knife deep into his left armpit. Bill shoved his bayonet in the guy's back. Not content with that, he stabbed him six or seven more times. He also stabbed the other two Japanese to make certain they were irretrievably dead. He then rested David against the side of the foxhole. He could barely see in the dark.

  "Tell me how you feel," Bill said in a trembling voice.

  "Can't tell if they punctured my lung or not. Losing a lot of blood, Billy."

  "O.K., I'll tie a tourniquet and take it off every twenty minutes. We'll pull through. Don't worry, David. Don't worry." Bill hastily ripped up his shirt and applied pressure under the arm and slightly over the shoulder. The wound was in a devilish place. He slowed the bleeding slightly but not enough. They both knew it.

  "Extra, search those guys and see if they got anything good on them before you throw them out of our apartment." David wanted to take some of Bill's attention away from himself.

  Bill started ransacking the Japs' pockets. "Hey, here's a little picture of a Tokyo honey." He handed the picture back to David.

  "You dumb bastard, how can you tell in the dark?"

  "I can just feel it."

  "Shit, man. If a dog shook its ass right you'd fuck it"

  "Only live once, David."

  "Yeah, I know."

  Bill could have bit off his tongue. He saved the Japs' shirts and a few trinkets before heaving the bodies over the side, creating a larger wall.

  "Hey, Bill?"

  "What?"

  "Don't let the maggots get in my wound. Watch me, will ya, Billy?" David's voice shook slightly.

  "Sure, buddy. I'm head of maggot patrol."

  They stayed quiet for a time. At last dawn suffused the hills with a light-gray presence. Bill could see David's wound much better now. If a medic didn't show up soon, David wasn't going to make it.

  "Ever read about the battle of Bull Run?" David asked.

  "You mean Manassas?"

  "I mean Bull Run, you rebel son-of-a-bitch. We won the goddamned war, so we get to name the battles."

  "Ha! We just let you win because we knew you damn Yankees would be lonesome without us. Only Southerners know how to give a good party."

  "You got a point there." David smiled. "Well, it seems there was a fellow from North Carolina. Was July, that battle, and hot. Hot like here. This guy took a wound in his head and a fly laid eggs in it. Happened to lots of guys. But in the head. The docs couldn't get them out. The maggots ate his brain out for five days before the poor bastard died. They should have killed him. They shouldn't let people suffer like that." David was covered in sweat.

  "You're right. You're right."

  "Billy, don't let the maggots get in my wound. Please, Billy."

  "Don't worry, buddy. Don't worry." Bill shoved one of the corpses with the barrel of his gun. It drew fire from Kaneko's men. "Christ, don't those guys ever sleep?"

  Another hour passed. The sun was making itself felt. From the rear Bill heard sounds. "Hey, David, David, I think some of our guys are coming up."

  "Great. Great."

  "You'll be fine." Bill rocked him. He'd been holding him in his arms all night.

  "Ah, Extra Billy Bitters. I should live so long. I'm gonna die, I can feel it. I was scared before. Maybe I still am, but I'm getting used to the idea."

  "Hey, man, don't talk like that."

  "Bill, I'm nobody's fool." David blinked.

  "Those dumb bastards behind us sound like they are coming into Runnymede Square. They're gonna get the shit knocked out of them if they don't pipe down."

  "Fire off a round or two. Maybe that'll warn them," David told him.

  "Yeah." Bill cracked off a few volleys in the air.

  "They're hollering and running this way. Christ, they musta just got off the boat." David tried not to touch his wound.

  Immediately a barrage from the Japanese halted all sounds of merriment. Now the next wave of guys were pinned down and crawling forward.

  "Think they know the Jap position?" David asked.

  "No. Another hundred yards before they can see much."

  "When they get in range, you run back to them," David told him.

  "No, you put that in the shit can, boy. I ain't leaving you."

  Cleverly David reassured him: "No, go back for a medic."

  "No."

  "Come on, Bill. I got to have a medic."

  "I ain't leaving."

  "Extra fifteen minutes might be too late."

  Bill knew this was true. God, he felt awful.

  "Bill, you gotta."

  "O.K."

  As the Americans drew closer they waited.

  Still not close enough. When I can hear clear I'll know I can make a run for it, Bill said to himself. He couldn't look over the foxhole or he'd have a bullet in the back of his brain.

  "Soon," David gasped. He knew, medic or no medic, he wasn't going to see the United States again. He resolved to die like a man, but he had to get Bill out of there first.

  "Another five minutes." Bill patted him. He was desperate to get help to David.

  "Now, Bill." David gripped his hand.

  "Yeah, O.K." Bill paused and then said in a sheepish voice, "David, can I kiss you?"

  "Shit, you mean I been spending all this time with a cocksucker?" David whispered. "Yeah, you can kiss me, but you can't kiss and tell."

  Bill leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and then quickly, fearfully, on the lips. "See you in a few minutes with a medic."

  "Move out, buddy."

  Bill shot out of that hole like a bat out of hell. Since the Japanese were waiting for the next wave of Americans, he got a few seconds on them. A burst of machine gun fire took a hunk out of his side but he still tore up the sod. With his back turned, he couldn't see David crawl over the side and lob a grenade at the nest. He had no hope of tossing it near them, but he gave it a heave hoping to attract the marines' attention in case Bill didn't reach them. No reason why more good men should die here, he thought.

  Bill made it to the advancing line, screaming, "Medic! Medic!"

  "You hit?" A lieutenant snarled and then saw the blood all over Bill's side.

  "I don't know. I don't care. I need a medic for my friend."

  The looey pointed to the rear. He saw the grenade explode and the Jap machine gun spit. He now knew where the enemy was positioned.

  Frantic, Extra Billy located a medic. He had to wait until the line advanced before the medical officer could go forward into the foxhole. The minutes taunted Bill. Every one dropped into his brain like acid. The medics calmed him as best they could. He tried to start running back to the foxhole, but a quick tackle by one man put a stop to that. This unit had a bazooka. As soon as they were in range they brought it up and loaded. The first shot went wide of the mark. The second one was a bull's-eye. Lieutenant Kaneko exploded in three parts.

  By the time they reached the foxhole, Bill saw what David had done. He knelt over David's body and noticed that the skin was blown away from his skull, revealing a creamy translucence that glowed with ebbing life like a candle. Extra Billy Bitters bent over his friend and sobbed like a wounded animal. It took four men to get him to give up David Levy's body.

  When the blowhard boy that left Runnymede returned, he returned not the best of men but a man nonetheless. After the war Bill found he no longer enjoyed hunting, formerly a favorite pastime. He couldn't bring himself to kill animals. Their dark eyes reminded him of David Levy.

  April 30, 1947

  News from Germany filtered back to the United States in fits and starts. The Allies bicke
red like thieves. From the rubble that was Berlin reports sometimes turned up, missing persons were sometimes found or at least their destinies revealed. Fairy Thatcher was such a missing person. Both the Clarion and the Trumpet ran a report of Fairy, judiciously omitting some of the more gruesome details.

  As Celeste had suspected, Fairy and Gunther were hauled off to a concentration camp, the bulk of whose prisoners were there for political reasons. As conditions worsened, so did the lot of these unfortunate people, who soon had their ranks swelled with human beings whose only fault was having been born Jewish. Gunther died early. Perhaps his heart was already broken by the futile squabbling in the Communist camp or by the Stalin-Hitler pact. Fairy clung on in this strange land, with foreign words on her lips. She worked at every loathsome task assigned her. Her unflagging endurance and sad, silly sense of humor endeared her to all the other inmates. When an escape was planned, the old lady was invited to make a run for it with the others. She declined this honor and opportunity. Instead Fairy Thatcher took it upon herself to create an unholy racket while the others fled. Because even the guards respected her, she was hopeful it would be a few hours before they discovered her instant insanity act had been a decoy.

 

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