Then Earl was magically whisked away again and, like a package at the end of a conveyor belt, he was simply dumped into nothingness. He looked around, saw Junie standing by herself.
She was radiantly pretty, even if a little fearful. She had been a junior at Southeast Missouri State Teachers College, in Cape Girardeau, he the heavily decorated Marine master sergeant back on a bond drive before the big push for the Jap home islands. She was a beautiful girl and he was a beautiful man. They met in Fort Smith, at a USO dance, and got married that weekend. They had four days of delirious love, and then he went back to the war, killed another hundred or so Japs, got hit twice more, lost more men, and came home.
'How're you doing?' he said.
'Oh, Pm fine,' she said. 'I don't want anybody paying me any attention at all. This is the day for the hero, not the hero's wife.'
'I told you, Junie, I ain't no hero. I'm just the lucky sonofabitch who walked away from the shell that killed the ten other guys. They're giving me the medal of luck today, that's all.'
'Earl, you are a hero. You should be so proud.'
'See, most people, let me tell you. They don't know nothing. They don't know how it was. What they think it was, what they're giving me this thing for, see, it had nothing to do with nothing.'
'Don't get yourself upset again.'
Earl had a problem with what the world thought as opposed to what he knew to be true. It was always getting him into trouble. It seemed few of the combat men had made it back, but because he was a big hero people were always stopping him to tell him what a great man he was and then to lecture him on their ideas about the war, So he would listen politely but a little bolt of anger would begin to build until he'd be off and some ugliness had happened.
'You can't be so mad all the time,' she said.
'I know, I know. Listen to me. You'd think the Japs had won the way I carry on. When is this mess going to be over?'
He slipped around behind Junie and used her as cover, reaching inside his tunic to his belt line and there, where Daddy had carried his sap for putting down the unruly nigger or trashy white boy, he carried a flask of Boone County bourbon, for putting down unruly thoughts.
He got it out smoothly, unscrewed its lid, and in seconds, with the same easy physical grace that let him hit running targets offhand at two hundred yards with a PFC's Garand, had it up to his lips.
The bourbon hit like bricks falling from the roof. That effect he enjoyed, the impact, the blurred vision, the immediate softening of all things that rubbed at him.
'Earl,' she said. 'You could get in trouble'
Who would care? he thought.
A young Marine captain without a hair on his chin slid next to them.
'First Sergeant,' he muttered, 'in about five minutes the car will take you back to the hotel. You'll have a couple hours to pack and eat. The Rock Island leaves at 2000 hours from Union Station. Your stateroom is all reserved, but you should be at the train by 1945 hours. The car will pick you and your luggage up at 1900 hours. Squared away?'
'Yes sir,' said Earl to the earnest child.
The boy sped away.
'You'd think they could supply you with a combat fellow,' said Junie. 'I mean, after what you did for them.'
'He's all right. He's just a kid. He don't mean no harm.'
In fact the young man reminded him of the too many boys who'd served under him, and never came back, or if they came back, came back so different, so mangled, it would have been easier on them if they hadn't come back at all.
'You should be happy, Earl. I can tell, you're not.'
'I'm fine,' he said, feeling a sudden need for another gigantic blast of bourbon. 'I just need to go to the bathroom. Do you suppose they have them in a fine place like this?'
'Oh, Earl, they have to. Everybody goes to the bathroom!'
A Negro servant was standing near the door, and so Earl made his inquiry and was directed through a hall and through a door. He pulled it closed behind him, snapped the lock.
The toilet was of no use to him at all, but he unbuttoned his tunic and slid the bourbon out, and had a long swallow, fire burning down the whole way, rattling on the downward trip. It whacked him hard. He took another and it was done. Damn!
He took a washcloth, soaked it in cold water and wiped down his forehead, almost making the pain there go away for a bit, but not quite. When he hung the washrag up, the pain returned. He dropped the flask into the wastebasket.
Then he reached around and pulled out his.45 automatic.
I carried this here gun on Iwo Jima and before that on Tarawa and Guadalcanal and Saipan and Tinian. He'd done some killing with it too, but more with his tommy gun. Still, the gun was just a solid piece on his belt that somehow kept him sane. The gun, for him, wasn't a part of death, it was a piece of life. Without the gun, you were helpless.
This one, sleek, with brown plastic grips and nubby little sights, was loaded. With a strong thumb, he drew back the hammer till it clicked. He looked at himself in the mirror: the Marine hero, with the medal around his neck, the love of his country, the affection of his wife, with a full life ahead of him in the glamorous modern 1940s!
He put the gun against his temple and his finger caressed the trigger. It would take so little and he could just be with the only men he cared about or could feel love for, who were most of them resting under crosses on shit-hole islands nobody ever heard of and would soon forget.
'Earl,' came Junie's voice. 'Earl, the car is here. Come on now, we have to go.'
Earl decocked the automatic, slipped it back into his belt, pulled the tunic tight over it, buttoned up and walked out.
Chapter 2
They walked out to the car in the West Portico of the White House.
'Your last official duty as a United States Marine,' said the young captain, who seemed a good enough kid. 'You should be very proud. You accomplished so much. I should salute you, First Sergeant. You shouldn't salute me.'
'Son, don't you worry about it,' Earl said. 'You'll git your chance, if I know the world.'
They reached the car, an olive-drab Ford driven by a PFC.
The captain opened the door for Earl and Junie.
Suddenly Earl was seized with a powerful feeling. When he got in the car, the door slammed shut, then it was all over, forever?that part of his life. A new part would start, and where it would lead he had no idea. He was not a man without fear?he'd lived with fear every day for three years in the Pacific?but the fear he felt now was different. It wasn't a fear that threatened to overwhelm you suddenly, to drive you into panic, into letting your people down, that sometimes came under intense fire. It was deeper; it was fear down in the bones or even the soul, it was the fear of the lost. It came from faraway, a long time ago.
He shook his head. The air was oppressive, like the air of the islands. The huge wedding cake of the White House office building rose on the left; around, the green grass and trees moldered in the heat. Beyond the gate, black fleets of cars rolled up and down Pennsylvania.
Earl grabbed Junie. He held her hard and kissed her harder.
'I love you,' he said. 'I really, truly do. You are the best goddamn thing ever happened to me.'
She looked at him with surprise, her lipstick smeared.
'I can't drive back,' he said. 'I just can't. Not now. I don't feel very good. Tell the kid. I'll see you tonight in the room, before we leave for the train.'
'Earl. You'll be drinking again.'
