They walked down the tree-lined streets of the base. The barracks were unlighted, and the trees cast large shadows on the brick walls.
“This is a beautiful base,” he said. “One of the prettiest.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s a shame it’s in such a rat town. Rat towns shouldn’t have beautiful bases.”
“They shouldn’t.”
“My bit of philosophy for the day,” he said. “Where are we walking?”
“I don’t know. I’m following you.”
“Well, there are a variety of things available on this lovely base. We can wander around and look at the trees and the flowers. Would you like to do that?”
“If you want to.”
“Or we can stroll over to the air base and watch the Navy pilots make landings in the dark. That is apt to be dangerous.”
“Then let’s not do it.”
“You do not, I gather, appreciate danger.”
“Sometimes.”
“Fine. There then remains a magnificent ball field, complete with bleachers and tons of grass. The weather is uncommonly mild, and we can pretend there is a game in progress. What say?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“It is restricted,” he went on. “But methinks a mere enlisted man guards the portals. We can scare him away with all our assorted bars, Ensign Dvorak.”
“All right,” she said, and then she laughed softly and held his arm tighter. They walked in silence until the outline of the ball field loomed ahead. Standing near the gate was an enlisted man with a guard belt and a rifle.
Masters walked over and said, “You there! Snap to!”
The man leaped to attention. “Sorry, sir. I–I didn’t see you.”
“That’s a fine recommendation for a man on watch. I saw some Waves in their underwear trying to crawl under the fence at the far end of the field. Get over there and stop them.”
“Yes, sir.” The guard started running, and Jean began laughing.
“He must think you’re crazy,” she said.
“No. But he’s going to be mighty disappointed. After you, m’dear.”
They walked across the field, and he took off his jacket, over her protests, and spread it on the ground for her. They sat, and the stars were etched sharply overhead, and the world seemed to end at the perimeter of the ball field.
“I’m beginning to get sober,” he said.
“Are you? Well, good.”
“Why? I’m also beginning to remember why I got looped.”
“Schaefer again?”
“Schaefer again. Damnit, why’d they have to stick me on that damned investigation board?”
“Chuck, can’t you forget it? You know the Navy as well as I do. Look at it this way. How many men are killed when a ship goes down?”
“Sure.”
“Chuck...”
“Yes?”
“You’re not going to get morose, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” He laughed suddenly.
“What’s that for?”
“Mary. I was just thinking of Mary.”
“My girl friend?”
“No. Another Mary. A girl whom you are not — but I think I’ll kiss you anyway.”
“Chuck...”
He took her in his arms, and she tried to hold him away for just a moment, until his mouth found hers. And then she trembled slightly in the circle of his embrace and gave her lips to him.
“I’ll be seeing a lot of you, you know,” he said.
“I...”
“Yes, I will. Oh, yes, I will. You might as well get used to the way I kiss.”
She caught her breath, and when she spoke, her voice was very low. “I’m used to it already,” she said.
Seven
Masters heard reveille sounded over the ship’s p.a. system the next morning, but it didn’t get him out of his sack. He heard Le Page come grumbling awake in the bunk opposite him. He rolled over his face to the bulkhead, pulling the pillow over his head. Le Page shuffled around for his shoes, and Masters wondered why the hell they’d put a meathead like the Ensign in with him. A man should be quiet in the morning. A man should come to terms with life again slowly. He shouldn’t stumble around until life slapped him right in the face like a wet mackerel.
What the hell was Le Page doing now? Masters could hear the rattle of his dog tags, and beneath that another sound he couldn’t immediately identify. He placed it then, and he was tempted to throw his pillow at Le Page’s empty head. The goddamn jackass was making up his sack!
“Hey, Masters,” Le Page said. “Wake up, Masters. Reveille.”
Masters played dead. Maybe if he lay still, without moving a muscle, without breathing, Le Page would go away. Maybe Le Page would wander out to the boat deck and jump over the side.
“Hey, Masters!” Le Page shouted. “Come on, boy. Reveille! Don’t want to miss chow.”
From under the pillow and the blanket, Masters ominously intoned, “Le Page, you are a goddamned jackass.”
“You awake, Masters?” Le Page asked, apparently having heard the sullen mumble from beneath the bedclothes.
Masters held his breath.
“You awake?” Le Page repeated.
“Yes, goddamnit, I am awake!” Masters shouted. “A dead man couldn’t sleep in here with all the goddamn racket you’re making.”
“Well, gee, Chuck,” Le Page said, “I thought you wanted chow.”
“I don’t want chow,” Masters said.
“Well, how was I to know?”
“I don’t want anything. I just want silence. Complete silence,” Masters said. “I just want to sleep a little.”
“A rough night last night?” Le Page asked.
“I don’t want an hour-long discussion,” Masters said patiently. “I want to sleep. Go, Le Page. Go eat your chow. Eat my helping, too. Eat until you’re gorged. Eat until you bust! But just get the hell out of here and leave me alone!”
“Well, sure, Chuck. I mean, if you want—”
“That’s an order!” Masters roared.
“Yes, sir,” Le Page said. He scurried for the curtained doorway, and Masters smiled grimly and rolled over again.
He closed his eyes and tried to capture sleep again, but it was no use. He was awake. Well, I’m awake, he thought. Well, another goddamn day blooming on the horizon. Well, what’s so special about...
Jean. Jean Dvorak.
The name popped into his mind, and he suddenly remembered everything that had happened the night before, and a smile blossomed involuntarily on his face. He nodded in satisfaction. A nice girl. A real nice girl, one of the nicest he’d ever run across. Had he promised to call her today?
He didn’t remember. But he would call her, whether he’d promised or not, as soon as he could get off the ship. In that case, he thought, leave us get the hell out of our sack.
He swung his legs over the side of his bunk and scratched his chest idly, listening to the rattle of his dog tags. He yawned cavernously, stretched his muscular arms over his head, and then sighed.
His blues were thrown over the back of a metal chair, looking rumpled and disconsolate. He abruptly remembered all the Scotch he’d drunk the night before. Drunk was the word for it, all right. He wondered if he’d behaved all right with Jean. Yes, he was pretty sure he had. But a hell of a thing to mess up with a girl like that. You don’t run across a girl like that every day of the week.
“Tor-ay-oh-dor,” he sang suddenly, “don’t spit on the floor. Use the cuspidor. That’s what it’s for.”
Of course, this did not apply to a Navy vessel. There were no floors on a Navy vessel. There were only decks. “Tor-ay-oh-dor,” he sang again, “don’t spit on the deck. Use Le Page’s neck. Make the low-down sonofabitch a wreck.”