"Let's see," said Corrie. "There are four of you here, Lieutenant Burnham makes five, and the two unaccounted for make seven. What became of the other four?"
"Killed in action."
"Poor boys," said Corrie.
"It is not those who are killed who suffer," said Jerry. "It is those who are left behind—their buddies and their folks back home. Maybe they're better off. After all, this is a hell of a world," he added bitterly, "and those who get out of it are the lucky ones."
She laid her hand on his. "You mustn't feel that way. There may be a lot of happiness in the world for you yet—for all of us."
"They were my friends," he said, "and they were very young. They hadn't had a chance to get much out of life. It just doesn't seem right. Tarzan says that it does no good to hate, and I know he's right. But I do hate—not the poor dumb things who shoot at us and whom we shoot at, but those who are responsible for making wars."
"I know," she said. "I hate them, too. But I hate all Japs. I hate the 'poor dumb things who shoot at us and whom we shoot at.' I am not as philosophical as you and Tarzan. I want to hate them. I often reproach myself because I think I am not hating bitterly enough." Jerry could see that hate reflected in her eyes, and he thought what a horrible thing it was that such an emotion could have been aroused in the breast of one so innately sweet and kind. He said to her what she had said to him: "You mustn't feel that way," and he added, "You were never made for hate."
"You never saw your mother hounded to death and your father bayoneted by those yellow beasts. If you had and didn't hate them you wouldn't be fit to call yourself a man."
"I suppose you are right," he said. He pressed her hand. "Poor little girl."
"Don't sympathize with me," she said almost angrily. "I didn't cry then. I haven't cried since. But if you sympathize with me, I shall."
Had she emphasized you? He thought that she had—just a little. Why, he asked himself, should that send a little thrill through him? I must be going ga-ga, he thought.
Now the little band gathered around the cooking fire for supper. They had broad leaves for plates, sharpened bamboo splinters for forks, and of course they had their knives. They drank from gourds.
Besides pheasant and venison, they had fruit and the roasted seeds of the durian. They lived well in this land of plenty. "T'ink of de poor dogfaces back at base," said Shrimp, "eatin' canned hash an' spam."
"And drinking that goddam G-I coffee," said Bubonovitch. "It always made me think of one of Alexander Woolcott's first lines in The Man Who Came to Dinner."
"I'll trade places with any dogface right now," said Jerry.
"What's a dogface?" asked Corrie.
"Well, I guess originally it was supposed to mean a doughboy; but now it sort of means any enlisted man, more specifically a private."
"Any G-I Joe," said Shrimp.
"What a strange language!" said Corrie. "And I thought I understood English."
"It isn't English," said Tarzan. "It's American. It's a young and virile language. I like it."
"But what is a doughboy? And a G-I Joe?"
"A doughboy is an infantryman. A G-I Joe is an American soldier—Government Issue. Stick with us, Corrie, and we'll improve your American and ruin your English," concluded Jerry.
"If you will pay special attention to Sergeant Rosetti's conversation they will both be ruined," said Bubonovitch.
"Wot's wrong wit my American, wise guy?" demanded Shrimp.
"I think Sergeant Shrimp is cute," said Corrie.
Rosetti flushed violently. "Take a bow, cutie," said Bubonovitch.
Shrimp grinned. He was used to being ribbed, and he never got mad, although sometimes he pretended to be. "I ain't heard no one callin' you cute, you big cow," he said, and he felt that with that come-back his honor had been satisfied.
Chapter 9
BEFORE supper, Tarzan had cut two large slabs of bark from a huge tree in the forest. The slabs were fully an inch thick, tough and strong. From them he cut two disks, as nearly sixteen and a half inches in diameter as he could calculate. In about one half of the periphery of each disk he cut six deep notches, leaving five protuberances between them.
After supper, Jerry and the others, sitting around the fire, watched him. "Now what the heck are those for?" asked the pilot. "They looked like round, flat feet with five toes."
"Thank you," said Tarzan. "I didn't realize that I was such a good sculptor. These are to deceive the enemy. I have no doubt but that that old villain will return with Japs just as quickly as he can. Now those natives must be good trackers, and they must be very familiar with our spoor, for they followed it here. Our homemade sandals would identify our spoor to even the stupidest tracker. So we must obliterate it.
"First we will go into the forest in a direction different from the one we intend taking, and we will leave spoor that will immediately identify our party. Then we will cut back to camp through the undergrowth where we can walk without leaving footprints, and start out on the trail we intend taking. Three of us will walk in single file, each stepping exactly in the footprints of the man ahead of him. I will carry Cor-rie. It would tire her to take a man's stride. Bubonovitch will bring up the rear, wearing one of these strapped to each foot. With one of them he will step on each and every footprint that we have made. He will have to do a considerable split to walk with these on, but he is a big man with long legs. These will make the footprints of an elephant and obliterate ours."
"Geeze!" exclaimed Rosetti. "A elephant's feet ain't that big!"
"I'm not so sure myself about these Indian elephants," admitted Tarzan. "But the circumference of an African elephant's front foot is half the animal's height at the shoulder. So these will indicate an elephant approximately nine feet in height. Unfortunately, Bubonovitch doesn't weigh as much as an elephant; so the spoor won't be as lifelike as I'd like. But I'm banking on the likelihood that they won't pay much attention to elephant spoor while they are looking for ours. If they do, they are going to be terribly surprised to discover the trail of a two-legged elephant.
"Had we been in Africa the problem would have been complicated by the fact that the African elephant has five toes in front and three behind. That would have necessitated another set of these, and Jerry would have had to be the hind legs."
"De sout' end of a elephant goin' nort', Cap," said Shrimp.
"I'm not selfish," said Jerry. "Bubonovitch can be the whole elephant."
"You'd better put Shrimp at the head of the column," said Bubonovitch, "I might step on him."
"I think we'd better turn in now," said Tarzan. "What time have you, Jerry?"
"Eight o'clock."
"You have the first watch tonight—two and a half hours on. That will bring it just right. Shrimp draws the last—3:30 to 6:00. Good night!"
They started early the following morning after a cold breakfast. First they made the false trail. Then they started off in the direction they intended taking, Bubonovitch bringing up the rear, stamping down hard on the footprints of those who preceded him. At the end of a mile, which was as far as Tarzan thought necessary to camouflage their trail, he was a pretty tired elephant. He sat down beside the trail and took off his cumbersome feet. "Migawd!" he said. "I'm just about split to the chin. Whoever wants to play elephas maximus of the order Proboscidea can have these goddam things." He tossed them into the trail.
Tarzan picked them up and threw them out into the underbrush. "It was a tough assignment, Sergeant; but you were the best man for it."
"I could have carried Corrie."
"An' you wit a wife an' kid!" chided Shrimp.
"I think the colonel pulled rank on you," said Jerry.
"Oh, no," said Tarzan; "it was just that I couldn't think of throwing Corrie to the wolves."