If the men of Patrol Easy hadn’t already been aware of their ultimate destination, it would have been hard to know that the ship was basically in position for the coming invasion of Leyte. This was because USS Elmore continued to steam across the surface of the ocean, zigzagging endlessly to make a difficult target for any Japanese on the prowl. There was no land in sight, and the officers had been vague on the details. Hell, maybe some of the officers didn’t even know what awaited them.
“There’s not much to do but wait,” Philly said. “It’s gonna drive me nuts. How much longer are we gonna be on this ship?”
“Get some sleep,” Deke told him. “Let tomorrow take care of itself.”
“Where did you get that nugget?” Philly wanted to know. “They must be handing out fortune cookies in the mess hall.”
Deke grinned into the darkness. He couldn’t take credit for that one. He remembered it being one of the phrases that Sadie had employed during their bleak days in the boarding house, after they had lost the farm. To Deke’s surprise, the words had stuck with him.
“Just something my sister used to say.”
“She sounds like a smart one.”
“You have no idea,” Deke said, and grinned.
CHAPTER THREE
Patrol Easy occupied a cramped corner of the ship’s quarters. There they staked their turf. Even if they had somehow taken a back seat to Woodall’s Scouts, with their newfangled camouflage uniforms and rifles, the snipers of Patrol Easy had enough of a reputation that the green beans on the ship showed them some deference as combat veterans. In other words, they were left alone.
Even during the relatively brief time that they were on the ship, they did what they could to make themselves at home. Somewhere Philly had found a torn poster of Veronica Lake and stuck it to the bulkhead with chewing gum, designating the popular pinup girl as their mascot. Outsiders were not welcome, especially those replacement soldiers or sailors looking for a few souvenirs from the veterans aboard.
Word had gotten around that Philly had a samurai sword, which, along with Japanese pistols, were considered to be the most prized combat souvenirs.
Hardly an hour went by without some eager bastard coming by their quarters, looking to make a trade.
“Hey, buddy, I’ve heard you’ve got a samurai sword?” asked one fresh-faced soldier, appearing in their doorway.
“Beat it, green bean,” Philly said.
“C’mon. I hear you can just pick up swords left and right on the beaches. What do you want for it? Ten bucks?”
“Not for sale.”
“I’ll even throw in two packs of smokes. How ’bout it?”
The silent glares that he received from several sets of eyes accustomed to staring through rifle sights were enough for him to get the message that he wasn’t welcome. If those looks had been daggers, he would have been bleeding by now.
“Last chance,” Philly said. “You know where I’m going to put that sword if you don’t get out of here?”
“All right, all right. Don’t get sore.”
The soldier moved on to the next doorway to try his luck. You couldn’t blame these guys. Most of them did more than their share in rear-echelon support positions and just wanted to bring back a tangible piece of the war. But Deke, Philly, and Yoshio had seen what those swords could do. In the hands of the Japanese, they weren’t just for decoration.
Across the ship, the soldiers bet their meager pay in endless card games. The winners always made sure the losers paid up — once they got to Leyte, there was a good chance they’d never see that money if their card-playing buddies bought it on the beach.
Some men filled the time with endless conversation, but their stories and jokes grew stale, especially when you had been around the same guys for weeks or months at a time. Even the most extroverted soldiers found themselves sinking into a sullen silence. They lay in their bunks, chain-smoking, adding a fog of tobacco smoke to the already thick, humid air.
Some, like Philly, seemed to get louder, as if they could talk themselves out of these doldrums. Others, like Deke, simply retreated deeper into themselves. He just dug himself a mental hole and crawled right into it.
He recognized that this was how he had survived that awful stretch after his family had lost their farm to the bank and they’d had to move into a boarding house in town. It was not a memory that he wanted to return to. Deke was built for action, not for wallowing in self-pity. To keep busy, he spent the time sharpening his custom-forged bowie knife and cleaning his rifle for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
Once again, Yoshio was reading a Western novel. This one was called West of the Pecos. Deke never had been much for books, but he was a little envious that Yoshio could be so easily drawn into the pages. With a book, the time seemed to pass more easily.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, although I can’t believe I’m saying it,” said Philly. “The truth is that I can’t wait to get back to Leyte.”
“You’ll get your wish soon enough,” Deke replied. “I can’t say that I disagree. I’ve had just about enough of this ship. Sure am glad that I ain’t in the navy.”
As far as he was concerned, the sooner they had a crack at the Japs again, the better.
It seemed miraculous, given the vast distances involved, but mail managed to arrive. There was almost nothing so welcome, because it helped to break the monotony of being trapped on the ship. It was also a reminder of home many thousands of miles away and the fact that someone gave a damn about them, whether it was a girl, a wife, or a father or a mother.
Some soldiers wrote letters home every day, sometimes more than once a day, using the thin paper provided to them for this purpose, but it was clear that the letters from home had predated these. No matter — each word from home was savored like the last bite of an apple pie.
To Deke’s surprise, he received another letter from Sadie. His sister was working as a police officer, one of the few female law enforcement officers in Washington, DC. She’d been a wartime hire due to the shortage of men and the occasional need for a female officer to deal with the influx of young women to the nation’s capital.
Deke was proud of his sister. She was right smack-dab in the heart of things. And here he was on a ship in the ocean more than half a world away.
He’d be the first to admit that her tough demeanor made her perfect for the job. Sadie never had been one to back down from a challenge. Also, Deke had to admit that his sister was at least as good with a rifle as he was. He didn’t expect her to be any less of a shot with a police revolver.
The nation’s capital had become so busy during the war that Sadie worked long hours. She even had a few funny stories to tell. One thing for sure, Deke thought, was that they were both a long way from home. How Deke missed waking up in the old farmhouse on winter mornings, so cold that he could see his breath hang in the air. He longed for some of that cool air as he lay in the hot, cramped metal bunk.
It was funny, in a sense — times had been hard, but in hindsight they might also have been some of the best times in his life — at least before Pa had died in an accident at the sawmill.
Pa had been a silent, hardworking man. He had fought in the trenches of Europe during the Great War but had never talked about it. Pa had brushed off Deke’s occasional questions. Now that he had experienced combat for himself, Deke understood his father’s silence. There were things in this world that a man kept to himself.
He settled down to read Sadie’s letter. It was more of a short note, really — neither he nor Sadie were much for writing long letters.