Semper Fi (4 page)

Cal gazed at him, his dark eyes penetrating. “Yeah. Some nights I dream about—” He stopped abruptly.

“What?” Jim’s neck prickled.

“Nah, never mind. We’re here now.” Cal tipped his head back. “I missed Ursa Major over there. The Southern Cross just doesn’t have the same panache. Of course Orion’s
bear
was something to behold.”

Shaking his head, Jim laughed. “You’re not supposed to remind me.” He winced. “Lord, I was drunk.”

“You were very certain it was a bear and not a dog. Despite the word ‘canis’ being in the name. Remember that night we convinced Smithy that Centaurus depicted a sexual position?”

Jim grinned at the memory of the boy craning his head to and fro with a furrowed brow. Then another image took hold, and Jim tensed, his smile vanishing.

Cal’s voice was soft. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Jim swallowed hard. “It’s not. How can I stand here laughing—even for a second—after what happened? It’s like I forgot.”

“We’ll never forget. I wonder every day why the hell I’m here and they’re not. Sometimes I close my eyes and all I can see are their faces.”

As the recollections of friends long gone flickered through his mind, Jim nodded. “Me too.”

Cal paused. “And I think of what happened on Okinawa.”

Jim’s stomach roiled now as he was flooded with remorse and images that were forever burned into his mind. He screwed his eyes shut, his breath hitching and heart suddenly racing as sweat broke out on his forehead. “Please…I can’t…” It was like a vise had clamped down on his chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. His lungs burned.

“Hey, hey, it’s all right. I’m sorry.” Cal wrapped his arm around Jim’s shoulders. “Just breathe.”

Part of Jim wanted to shake Cal off and run until the memories couldn’t catch him anymore. But he couldn’t resist leaning into Cal just for a moment. Everything about his friend was so achingly familiar, from his voice to his warm grasp to his faint scent. After three years of impossibly close quarters during the war, Jim felt like he knew Cal inside and out. Lord, he’d missed him.

Cal squeezed. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “We won’t forget, but we have to move on.”

Taking a deep breath, Jim stepped away and nodded. He cleared his throat, willing his heart rate to slow.

Putting his hands in his pockets, Cal thankfully changed the subject, his tone light. “Think I’ll make a good farmer?”

As everything returned to normal, the pressure in his chest lifting, Jim managed to smile. “Dunno if you’re cut out for it, but we’ll see.”

“Why, you don’t think I’ve got the look?”

Jim took in Cal’s handsome features—those dark, twinkling eyes and the thick hair. “Well, you don’t look much like a Marine now. I haven’t seen your hair this long since that first night on the train.”

“God, that rickety old train. It was pretty much all downhill from there. You know, that salty old bastard Tyrell never did give me the recipe for grits.”

They both laughed, and Jim felt like himself again. “You’re sure your father can spare you until after the harvest? That’s still at least six months away.”

Cal’s smile was sharp. “Don’t worry about my old man. I don’t think we’ll be working together again any time soon.” He snorted. “Not that we ever worked
together
. I’m through taking orders from him. I’m through taking orders from anybody. Except you, I suppose. You’re the boss.”

“Me? You’re the one who made sergeant.”

“Sergeant.” Cal shook his head. “No one’s called me that in a long time. Guess no one’s called you Johnny Appleseed either.”

Jim shoved Cal playfully with his elbow. “No, and don’t go telling anyone around here that nickname. You know, I think the only person in How Company who actually called me my proper name was you.”

Cal shrugged. “I had to keep you happy or you wouldn’t have shared your rations with me.”

“Have you had any rice since you got back?”

“Not a single grain.” Cal grinned. “They put me off it for life, I think.” He fiddled with his lighter. “Say, it’s awfully dry up here for April, isn’t it?”

“You’re telling me. The driest spring in a hundred years. Good thing I had these Rain Birds installed last season.” He pointed down at the ground in the orchard. “Probably can’t see them too well right now.”

Cal squinted. “Little metal nozzles, right? I noticed them earlier.”

“They feed off the well and spray all the trees. They say it’s just as good as rain, but I still prefer the real thing. Think the trees do too.” He watched a rabbit sniffing around before hopping out of sight.

“Mighty advanced technology you’ve got, Jim Bennett.”

Jim scoffed. “Plenty of farms and orchards are using them now. It was Eddie’s idea, in case we have a dry season. Guess he was onto something. Still early yet.” He took another swig of his beer. “Thanks for coming, Cal. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be here.”

“I’ve always been able to count on you.” Jim hadn’t known what he’d feel seeing his old friend again, and he was warm with a sense of relief and optimism. Things were always better when Cal was around. Everything was going to be okay.

Cal shrugged. “Nah, it’s nothing. I could only take so much of London. Got enough rain in the jungle. And Manhattan’s boring as hell these days.”

“Right. The bright lights of Clover Grove are much more your speed.”

“Crazy as this may sound, I think they are.” Looking back up at the sky, Cal smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks.

Feeling warm and secure again, Jim gazed at the distant planets and smiled along.

The bristles of his stained toothbrush bent at impossible angles as Cal scrubbed the toilet bowl. He tried his best to keep the splashing to a minimum, but if he was going to get the latrines, sinks and showers clean by the time taps rang out across the base, he needed to put some muscle into it.

At least he wasn’t marching or engaged in endless calisthenics. And he was actually alone for the first time in weeks, so that was something.

“Cal?” Jim called out.

His pulse spiked as Jim approached. Here was the one man in the platoon whose company he didn’t mind at all. “The one and only. I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

Jim appeared. “I didn’t see you in the barracks. I thought you might be sick.” He took in the sight of Cal on his knees in front of the toilet and frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yep. Just peachy.” He held up the ruined toothbrush. “Partaking in a little light cleaning.”

“Ah. What did you do this time?”

Cal nodded to the weapon leaning against the wall. “What’s that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is that piece of equipment right there?”

Jim examined it as if there was some trick he was missing. “It’s a rifle.”

“That’s correct, recruit. Unfortunately, I made the unforgivable mistake of referring to it as my gun.” Cal couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from his tone. “But it is not a gun, it is a rifle. I have to carry the damn thing everywhere I go for a week. Even to bed.” He lowered his voice, speaking from the back of his throat. “Because the rifle is a Marine’s best friend.”

After glancing over his shoulder, Jim laughed softly. “Careful. If Tyrell hears that impression—”

“He’ll stick his boot so far up my ass I’ll need a surgeon to get it out!” Cal growled, jutting his jaw forward.

Still laughing, Jim shushed him. “Aren’t you in enough trouble?”

Cal dropped the impression and winked. “Trouble’s my middle name.”

“I thought it was Robert.”

“No, no, it’s trouble. It’s right there on my birth certificate in black and white.”

Jim’s smile faded as he glanced at the row of toilets. “How many have you done?”

“Not enough.” Cal went back to scrubbing, wincing as he angled the toothbrush under the stained rim. “At least I’ve had the place to myself.” As with everything at Parris Island, there was no privacy to be found in the bathroom, and Cal didn’t fancy having to clean while fellow recruits did their business.

“Can I help? You’re going to miss chow at this rate.” Jim kneeled beside him and peered around, as if looking for another toothbrush.

“Nah, you’d better not. Don’t want to get you in the dog house. Go on and eat. I need to have this bathroom—no, I’m sorry, this
head
—clean by taps or God knows what other punishment Tyrell has in mind.”

Although he was clearly reluctant to go, Jim stood. “Okay. See you later.”

Cal couldn’t resist watching him leave, admiring the way the uniform trousers showed off Jim’s firm ass. Then he gave his head a shake and went back to his task. The last thing he needed was to get caught giving Jim the eye. He could only imagine what Tyrell would do then, and none of the options were remotely pleasant.

As if conjured by the mere thought, strident footsteps announced Tyrell’s arrival. Lips narrowed, he watched Cal for a long moment before Cal remembered he was supposed to stand at attention. Hopping to his feet, he clicked his heels, stuck out his chest, raised his chin and snapped off a salute, toothbrush still in hand.

Seconds ticked by as Tyrell stared him down. Although he was shorter than Cal, he was a force of nature, his presence oppressively filling the corners of the room. Finally he barked, “At ease!”

Cal stood with his hands behind his back, the disgusting toothbrush between his fingers. Tyrell surveyed Cal’s progress with steely eyes. He marched slowly from one end of the room to the other, steps so measured and exact that Cal was sure they were precisely six inches apart. He returned and stood so close that Cal had to stop himself from backing up. He kept his eyes focused on the wall.

“Cunningham, I ordered you to have this head clean by taps, did I not?” His drawl made the last word sound more like
nawt
.

“You did, sir.”

“And I instructed you to use your toothbrush, did I not?”

“Yes, sir. I—this recruit has, sir.” Cal held up the brush.

“It’s chow time now. You’re gonna miss it if you want to finish on time.”

“Yes, sir.” His stomach growled as if in protest.

“You hungry, Cunningham?”

Cal hesitated before going with the truth, since any answer he gave would undoubtedly be the wrong one. “Yes, sir.”

Squinting, Tyrell leaned in even closer, his fetid breath on Cal’s face. “Bet you had a maid to clean for you. Bet you never cleaned a damn thing in your whole sorry, useless life.”

Even if Cal could argue, he wouldn’t. “That’s correct, sir.” He resisted the urge to add that his family had a whole household staff, not just a maid. Even at Princeton, he and his roommate in the dorm had secretly hired a local cleaning woman.

“Finish the job or you’ll be eating that there toothbrush, recruit.”

Stomach heaving at the thought, Cal jerked out a nod. “Permission to get back to work, sir.”

Tyrell’s features arranged themselves into a smile. “Permission granted.” He did an about face, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and Cunningham?”

Cal braced. “Yes, sir?”

“Tomorrow mornin’ you’ll make sure this head is still gleaming before you hit the mess hall.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaw clenched, Cal pivoted on his heel and started on the next toilet, thrusting his arm in and scrubbing. The tile was hard beneath his knees. He could sense Tyrell lingering in the doorway, so he pursed his lips and began whistling a merry tune. If Tyrell made any response, Cal didn’t hear it.

As taps rang out a couple of hours later, he raced to the barracks. He’d scrubbed his hands raw, but still didn’t think he’d feel clean for some time. In the darkness, he stripped off his sweaty, rank uniform and collapsed onto his bed, which he had to remember to call a “rack.” He carefully pulled his rifle under the covers with him.

Moonlight streamed through the small windows, and he could see Jim watching him from the next bed. With a small smile, Jim pointed to Cal’s pillow and mimed lifting it up. After a glance around, Cal pulled out a piece of bread and hunk of meat wrapped in a thin paper napkin. He grinned and wolfed them down before anyone was the wiser.

The last thought he had before falling into a deep sleep was how lucky he was to have a friend like Jim.