The Winds of War

“Janice is okay.”

“Is that her name, Janice? Pretty name. She’s about the best-looking white woman I’ve seen on this godforsaken island.”

“Easy, Lady.”

“Why, Briny, I admire her like a sunset, or the Washington Monument.”

“Say, Madeline -”

Hurrying past him toward the house behind Cleveland and the Hawaiian houseboy, Madeline flipped a hand at him. “Long-distance call from New York, honey. Our sponsor. Imagine!”

Byron told the news to Warren and Janice. Before he could stop her, Janice made a delighted announcement. The guests ringed him with alcoholic jokes, congratulations and questions, exclaiming over the odd fact that his wife was away oft in Italy. The society columnist of the Honolulu Star, a bony hawk-faced blonde named Petsy Peters, stood at Byron’s elbow, scribbling notes.

He went into the house after Madeline. He wanted to be the first to tell her. The telephone lay in its rack on a table in the hall. He heard a chuckle, and glancing down the zigzagging halls to the side-porch where the baby lay asleep, he saw Hugh Cleveland embracing Madeline, out of sight of the lawn. Cleveland was holding Byron’s sister with both hands by the rump. Her pink skirt was pulled up in back, exposing her thighs and underwear. She was clinging to him with obscene intimacy. Byron walked out of the house into the sunlight.

“I guess I’ll get back to the Devilfish,” he said to Warren.

“Why? I thought Branch gave you a twenty-four.”

“I want to write Natalie and the folks. Maybe shoot off a cable or two.”

“Briny, the governor’s just invited the whole crowd over to Washington Place for cocktails with Cleveland.”

“Cleveland’s in the house there kissing Madeline. I mean kissing her, and she’s going right along with it.”

“Is she?” the aviator said with a crooked grin. “I guess their sponsor liked the broadcast.”

Madeline came hurrying out of the house, her face alight, her hair disorderly, and ran to her brothers. Behind her Cleveland emerged, wiping his mouth with a kerchief. “Hey, guess what, fellows?” Madeline chirruped. “He talked to me, too. He said I sounded fine! But that’s nothing. We had a spot check rating of 23.5. That’s only four points less than Fred Allen — and on our very first show!”

Byron took the dispatch from his breast pocket showed it to his sister.

“Oh my! More good news! Say, Hugh, what do you know? Briny’s wife had her baby.”

“Hey! Congrats, papa!” He put out a hand that Byron ignored, but he took no offense. “Come on, Madeline, let’s tell the governor what Chet Fenton said.”

Byron, arms folded, glowered at their departing backs.

“Look, Briny,” his brother said, “you’re not going to make trouble, are you? You’ll embarrass Janice.”

“The grinning son of a bitch,” muttered Byron.

“Come off it. She’s over twenty-one.”

“He’s a married man. I’ll talk to Madeline, if you won’t. Depending on what she says, I may tell the bastard to keep his distance from her, if he doesn’t want the shit beaten out of him.”

Warren sized up his brother with amusement. “He’s got the weight on you, and he looks in good shape.”

“That’s just fine,” Byron said.

The radio began blaring the news signal. It was four o’clock and the governor had turned up the volume of the little portable sitting on the outdoor bar.

“Berlin. German Supreme Headquarters announces the capture of Kiev and claims the greatest victory in the war, and perhaps in the history of the world. According to German sources, four entire Russian armies, numbering almost a million men, have been surrounded and cut to pieces, and with the fall of Kiev all organized resistance in the vast pocket has come to an end. Radio Berlin proclaimed at midnight that, quote, ‘The Soviet Union no longer has a military capability, and the end of hostilities on the eastern front is in sight.’ More news in a moment. Now a word about Pepsi-Cola.”

The governor said, swishing his rum drink as merry girlish voices burst into a jingle, “Well, well. The Russkis would really seem to be on the run, hey?”

“Where is Kiev, Governor?” said Petsy Peters. “Is that where caviar comes from? I hope this doesn’t mean no more cavvy. There’s always the Persian, but that’s so expensive.”

“Kiev is in the north, I think,” the governor said. Frankly my Russian geography is not so hot.”

The Pepsi-Cola commercial ended. The announcer came on with drama in his voice:

“We interrupt this newscast for an urgent announcement by the Joint Army-Navy Command of the Hawaiian islands. SURPRISE ENEMY ATTACK ON HAWAII! This is a DRILL. A hostile fleet of battleships and carriers has been located approximately four hundred fifty miles northwest of Oahu. This is a DRILL.”

“Oh no!” Petsy Peters said. “Not again. Four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon! What a misery! Are they going to keep us off the streets again for hours and hours?”

The governor put his finger to his lips.

“All leaves and liberties are cancelled, and all military personnel will return to their units at once. This is a DRILL. We repeat, this a DRILL. Surprise enemy attack on Hawaii! All military personnel return to their units at once. Special permission is granted to the players of the baseball game between the Air Command and the Battleship Force to complete the ninth inning, and for spectators to remain at the game until then. Restrictions on civilian travel are not, repeat, not in force.”

“Well, thank goodness for that, at least,” said Petsy Peters.

“All ships in the area will report to force commanders readiness to sortie, but will not, repeat not, leave anchorages or moorings unless ordered. At 1830 target planes towing sleeves will simulate attack on Pearl Harbor. All ships and shore batteries will conduct tracking and aiming exercises but will not, repeat not, fire ammunition. Vessels in dry dock or alongside for repairs will proceed with maintenance work and are excused from this exercise. We repeat. Surprise attack on Hawaii. This is a DRILL. This announcement will be repeated.”

The governor snapped off the radio. “I wasn’t sure they’d still try to get it in today. It was originally scheduled for ten this morning, Hugh, but The Happy Hour conflicted.”

“Yes, sir, that was a real courtesy. My sponsor is writing letters of appreciation to the Army and the Navy.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

The general invitation for cocktails at Washington Place, the governor’s mansion, was called off. The party rapidly broke up. Soon only Cleveland, Madeline, Janice and the two submariners remained on the lawn amid the party debris, with the governor and his wife. Aster and Byron were in no hurry to leave because the Devilfish was in dry dock.

“Why not join us at Washington Place for a drink, Janice?” said the governor. “Hugh and Madeline are coming along.”

“Oh, not without a man, thank you, Governor,” Janice said.

“There’s an old Navy rule against sticking one’s neck out, Janice,” Lieutenant Aster spoke up, with a fetching grin. “But I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to see the inside of that mansion. I volunteer.”

Janice laughed. “Why, you’re on, Lieutenant. Give me three minutes, Governor.”

Byron separated Madeline from the others, saying he wanted to talk to her and would take her to Washington Place in Warren’s car.

“It’s wonderful news about your baby, Briny,” Madeline remarked, as they drove off.

Byron said, looking straight ahead at the road, “I went into the house before, looking for you. I saw you and Cleveland.”

After a pause filled with engine noise he glanced at her.

Her brows were contracted over wide dark eyes in a scowl, and she looked lovely, but tough. She very much resembled their father. “Is this why you offered to drive me to the governor’s place? To lecture me? Thanks, dear.”