Canzoneri dragged a civilian off Ostercamp and jabbed a hard right fist into his face, then threw two left jabs and lifted his right knee hard into the civilian’s crotch. The man’s eyes went wide. He tried to scream, but only a gargled belch came out as he grabbed his crotch with both hands and staggered toward the wall, clearly out of action.
Bill Bradford told himself to stay out of the fight. He was drunk and when he tried to fight when he was drunk, he always took a drubbing. Then it was too late. Two Marines rushed him. He lifted one foot and caught one of them in the belly, driving him into the wall. The other one came through, clubbing him in the shoulder, but then unable to get out of the way of Bradford’s right fist, which slammed into the Marine’s nose, bringing a spout of blood. Somebody grabbed Bradford from behind, and he jolted his head backward, crashing his skull into the head of the man behind him.
The man bellowed in pain and released Bradford, who spun around and jolted a hard left jab into the civilian’s right eye, and then a looping right that hit him on the side of the head and spilled him into a chair next to the wall.
One by one the Marines went down and didn’t get up. Another table and a chair crashed into bits and pieces.
Behind the bar, Mac himself blew on his police whistle until he turned blue, and then gave up. He grabbed the old .45 from the cash drawer, racked in a round, and fired into the wall behind him in a spot where he knew the wall and insulation would corral the bullet. The weapon going off in the bar had no effect on the series of small battles still going on.
He saw the last of the SEALs leave the girls and charge into the battle. Even the guy in the wheelchair tried to swing at a guy. Mac gave up and called the Shore Patrol. Then he called an old friend, Master Chief Gordon MacKenzie.
By the time the Shore Patrol arrived with six armed men and two patrol wagons, some semblance of order had been restored. Mac had bellowed that he’d called the Shore Patrol, and that had cooled off most of the battles. Mahanani had kept punishing the Marine who’d started the whole ruckus, but then Master Chief MacKenzie had come into the bar and scowled at the SEALs.
Five minutes later, a chief petty officer led the Shore Patrol into the bar and looked around. He spotted Master Chief MacKenzie and waved at his men to relax. MacKenzie sat at the bar with a beer. He pointed to a foaming, cold beer in front of an empty stool beside him. The chief walked up and stood looking at MacKenzie.
“Some mess your boys are in here, I’d say, MacKenzie.”
“True, Chief Billbray, but they didn’t start the ruckus. Marines did it. Ask Mac. He saw it all.”
“I’ll do that.” He pushed down the bar and talked to the owner of the business, then came back, sat on the stool, and sipped at the brew.
“That one big Marine with the black eye and not much of a nose left started it,” the Shore Patrol chief said.
They both sipped at the beer. Nobody said a word in the bar. One Marine groaned, and another one kicked him to quiet down.
“Chief to chief on this one, Billbray?”
“The Shore Patrol chief had another swallow of beer, wiped his mouth, and looked at MacKenzie.
“It’s been a while. Your boys have been on their best behavior lately. You get new guidelines, or has the Mormon Church taken over the SEALs’ training and operation?”
“Something like that.” MacKenzie waved at Mac, who came sliding down the bar with a wet cloth in one hand.
“Aye?”
“How much for damages, Mac? And lost business, incidentals, and pain and suffering?”
The saloon owner grinned. “Them two tables wasn’t much count anyway. Cost me maybe forty bucks to replace them. Actually, business is up tonight. Pain and suffering usually goes at about two million, but I’m easy. Another forty should keep me happy.”
MacKenzie took five twenty-dollar bills from his wallet and pushed them across the bar. “That and a tip for good service.” MacKenzie made a curt motion to the SEALs, and they straightened chairs, picked up a broken glass, and began to move toward the door.
“Oh, Mac. You should start to cultivate the Shore Patrol when they’re off duty,” MacKenzie said. “Fine group of lads. Be a favor to me if you could set up a round of beers for these SP lads next time they come in.”
MacB’s brows went up. Then he chuckled. “Sure, and I’d be glad to do just that.”
“Chief Billbray, I’d say that I owe you a favor, chief to chief. Yes, I’m in your debt. These are good lads I’ve got. This platoon just came back from the fighting in Hawaii. Nasty bit out there. I hope you understand.”
Chief Billbray drained the glass and wiped his mouth. “Looks like that one Marine will need some medical attention. The emergency room at the hospital here might do the job. Let my men help him along his way.”
The two chiefs shook hands, and the SEALs drifted out the front door. They forgot Jaybird, who sat in his wheelchair.
Master Chief MacKenzie wheeled him out just as Mahanani came looking for him.
“Sailor, you best get this lad back to Balboa before somebody reports him AWOL,” the chief said. “Hurry on now. I’ve missed enough sleep already.”
“Yes, Master Chief, right away.”
It took MacKenzie three calls to finally find Murdock at JG DeWitt’s home. They talked for five minutes, and then the master chief hung up. There was a small smile on his face as he headed home.
Murdock came away from the phone. Everyone had left the party, and Milly and Ardith were finishing up doing the dishes and putting away the leftovers.
“I’m going to be eating salmon for a week,” DeWitt said. He looked at Murdock. “What did the master chief want?”
“MacB’s turned out to be a bad idea. Big fight with eight Marines and some civilians. Shore Patrol showed up and Mac called MacKenzie. They worked it out with the Shore Patrol chief. Your boys will have some split lips and black eyes come working hours tomorrow.”
“Figures. Where you guys going on your vacation?”
“Flagstaff, Arizona. Supposed to be high and cool and interesting.”
“I’ll be working. Won’t be like the wine country, but I’ll make it.”
“Check on Jaybird. Let’s hope he doesn’t get in trouble over that little trip he took tonight. Work it out.”
The women came in, and they settled on the soft cushions.
“Show him,” Ardith said. She watched Milly. “Go ahead, show him. It won’t change things, but let him see it.”
Milly went over to Murdock and held out her left hand. One finger held a solitaire diamond.
“An engagement ring,” Ardith said. “I just couldn’t resist the chance to let you see it.”
Murdock stood and gave Milly a kiss on the cheek. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer couple. When?”
Milly looked at DeWitt. “We decided sometime in the spring. I’ll take a month off and we’ll go up to Seattle for the honeymoon.”
The next day in Flagstaff, neither of them mentioned the engagement. Ardith had a satisfied little smile most of the time, and Murdock put up with it. They had a lot of talking to do before they even came close to getting engaged.
He flexed his elbow and moved it until his shoulder hurt, then put his right arm deeper into the sling. It was going to be an interesting two weeks. As they toured the small town, he kept thinking about his life and Ardith and where he was heading. He couldn’t be sure of anything yet, not until his shoulder healed and he had the muscles and tendons trained again to the finely honed excellence that being a SEAL required. If he could do it.