Mexicans fell by the score, by the hundreds, but still came on. As before, he had to give them credit for bravery. They were closing in on his first trench line. They would overwhelm it. They reached the barbed wire and paused. The wire was much thicker and deeper than before, but this time the Mexicans had learned. They used cutters and were delayed only momentarily. As the cutters eliminated the wire, other Mexicans lay down withering covering fire. Damned Mexicans had learned a lot, he thought. But so too had his men. They were well dug in and firing slits were well sited. The slow, the dumb, and the unlucky on both sides were long dead. What was left was as mean as a rattlesnake with the clap.
“Pull them back,” he ordered. In a moment, his men left their trenches and retreated in good order, bringing their equipment and their wounded and even some of their dead. Good, he thought.
With a wild cheer, the Mexicans poured into the abandoned American emplacements. Tovey spat on the ground. They would not attack again, at least not for a while. They had expected a much tougher fight for Tovey’s trenches, and Tovey had bet there were no plans for a further advance. The Mexicans would stay put for a while and get themselves organized for the next push. At least that was what a Tejuano informer had said, and so far, the man was right.
More Mexicans entered the trenches, which were now filled with humanity. The Mexican flag was planted and the enemy cheered it loudly. They thought they’d won the day. Like hell.
Tovey turned to his officers. He hoped that one line buried so deep was still intact. If it wasn’t, he was going to look like a total asshole.
“Do it,” he ordered.
A sergeant turned a handle and pushed it down. For a second that lasted an eternity, nothing happened. Then explosions rippled down the line of the trenches now jammed with Mexican soldiers, detonating the dynamite so lovingly placed there the day before. Explosions became eruptions as smoke and debris, much of it human, filled the sky. Then there was silence, followed by the sounds of screams. Waves of surviving Mexicans ran away, retreating in panic to their old positions, while wounded men started to crawl back.
Tovey grinned. He estimated he’d just killed at least a thousand of the Mexicans in front of him and wounded a helluva lot more. That was one Mexican division that wouldn’t be doing much fighting for a while.
A courier from Governor Hobby’s staff stood behind him, white-faced with shock. “What the hell’d you expect?” Tovey snarled, “A fucking beauty pageant?” He had little use for Hobby’s staffers. Most were a bunch of pale-faced young pussies back from college out east.
The courier gulped. “No sir, just some news. Governor Hobby is relinquishing command to General Pershing.”
Pershing for Hobby? Now that was good news indeed, Tovey thought. That was as good a trade as Ty Cobb for a used jock, except that Hobby wasn’t as good as a used jock. Tovey had ridden with Pershing against Villa. He thought that Pershing was a pompous little bastard, but a damned good general. Hell, that news was almost as good as killing a thousand Mexicans.
Elise carefully fed Josh his Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup as he sat on the couch. He was totally relaxed and happy as a clam. His boots were off and his uniform jacket was draped across a chair.
They both knew he could feed himself fairly well now, but she wanted to pamper him and he rather liked the idea. The wound in his shoulder had left his arm weak, but the doctors assured him that much of his strength would return in time and he could return to active duty. Elise wanted him to get stronger, but active duty? No more, especially if it meant going out to sea to fight the Germans. Two Purple Hearts were more than enough. If his wounds kept him land bound that would be fine. She thought of him as more of a thinker than a fighter anyhow.
He had left the hospital and returned to junior officers’ quarters at the Presidio. There was no privacy there, of course, so Elise had taken him to the apartment she shared with Kirsten. If any of the other women in the building thought his presence was immoral or scandalous, they kept to themselves. After all, Josh walked with a crutch and one arm was in a sling. The two Purple Hearts were pinned on his chest. If Elise wanted to bring him home for lunch, the resident busybodies probably thought he was too helpless to take advantage of frail little Elise.
Little Elise, however, did not think of herself as frail. She thought that others would be surprised at how strong she was, both mentally and physically. Perhaps she’d never be able to stab somebody in the hand like Kirsten had done, but who knew?
She took the soup away. She didn’t offer him any more. He’d had three bowls. “I’d say getting away from hospital food is good for you,” she said with mocking primness.
“As a term, hospital food is an oxymoron. You are spoiling me, you know.”
“Do you mind?”
“Not for a moment,” he said and took her hand. The crutch was on the floor and the sling was on top of it. He tried not to bother with them anymore, but Elise had suggested the crutch to impress her neighbors.
“You know I am going back to work tomorrow,” he said. “Once more I’ll be a very junior member of the admiral’s staff.” And I’ll be able to see you every day, he thought.
“Nothing wrong with that, and don’t forget to wear your medals. It’ll remind them that you’ve done your duty.” Admiral Sims was insistent on that matter. Medals, especially combat related, would be worn.
Elise sat on the couch beside him. He was very much aware of her clean and fresh scent and the warmth of her presence. She wore a stylish dress that would have been considered shockingly short back where he came from. Here in San Francisco, it was normal and he liked it.
“Josh Cornell, it has occurred to me that life has become intense, violent, and potentially short. Therefore, I would like to ask you a very blunt question.”
“Go ahead,” he answered, puzzled.
“Do you like me? And not as a friend, of course, but as a woman.”
“Absolutely and both. I think you are a remarkable and lovely woman, and I’ve wondered if you truly like me, or if you are caring for me out of compassion.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said and slid across his lap. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“Not at all,” he answered. It did hurt, but only a little and he’d be damned if he’d admit it. She might move away if he did and he loved the feel of her against him.
“I won’t break if you kiss me.”
He grinned, “You certain?”
They kissed tenderly and gently. She pulled away and looked at him, a small smile on her lips.
“Josh, I’m old-fashioned, but not totally so. Right now I am a virgin and will still be so when you leave this room. Do you understand that?”
He nodded. It was suddenly hard to speak. She unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. His undershirt followed. His chest was pale and her fingers lingered over the scars on his shoulder. She kissed where the stitches had left their mark. She couldn’t help tears from falling onto his chest. Damn Germans.
With shaking hands, he removed her jacket and blouse, then slid her undergarments down to her waist. Her breasts were small but lovely and he cupped them, caressing her nipples with his fingers and then his lips. She smiled and bit her lip. Farm boys weren’t all that innocent, she thought.
“Remember, we’re not going all the way,” she said in a whisper.
“I understand.”
“But if you’re a very good boy, I’ll make sure we both have a wonderful afternoon.”
He laughed, “Promise?”