Circles in the Sand (16 page)

Clint looked around at them and chuckled. “Nothing, nothing at all. As far as I know she’s still a virgin.”

“Oh, our fearless leader has struck out,” Kline said. “Oh the shame of it. Oh the embarrassment. Oh, the Air Force reputation shot down in flames.”

“Oh, the ignominy of it,”  chimed in Alcocke.

His buddies threw napkins at him. “Huh?” Kline said. “That sounds like a dirty word. Are you going to put up with that, Chief?”

“Okay you clowns, you’ve had your fun. Knock it off. Any more napkin throwing and someone will be doing pots and pans for Lorena.”

Outside, with Clint out of earshot, Kline said to Peter Jewel, “Hey Peter boy, you rode out with ‘em. Any action along the way? What do think of Sarge’s chances last night?”

“Pretty good. That’s one hot ol lady. Every chance she got, she rubbed a jug on my arm. If he didn’t make it with her, I bet I can.”

“Oh come on. Listen to baby face lover boy.” They threw friendly punches at each other.

From the dinning room Clint walked to Dorris’ room, fixed a smile, and knocked on the door. Looking expressionless, she opened it and looked at him without saying anything. “Hello, Dorris, I haven’t seen you in two days, I was beginning to worry.”

Dorris looked away but didn’t move. “Oh, what about ?”

“Golly, I’ve become Sergeant Greybull to Lorena. Is it that way with you?”

“Of course not, Clint. I’ve just had a lot to think about.”

“I hope I haven’t caused you any concern. We had such a good time together the other night, I thought we got along very well.”

“Yes, we did. And don’t worry about Lorena. We had a long talk…and I think she’s come to her senses. Stupidly, in the dark, she wanted you to think she was me…and if you had…if you had…screwed her…thinking It was me…then you’d have to marry me.”

Stunned, all Clint could say was, “Good grief.”
Wow! I’d better keep my eyes… and my thoughts off of that young lady. Close call, Greybull. You’ve lucked out this time.

“Yes, good grief. She won’t try that again.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, lets all just forget it and get back to normal around here. I’ve got work to do.

“Me too. We’ll see you tonight, won’t we?”

“Of course. We’ll all be together for supper.”

The troops had barely returned to Q-1 when they heard the noise of large engines.  Outside they saw a large aircraft approaching from the west. It passed slowly over the runway at fifteen hundred feet. “No tower here,” Sergeant Patton said. “Probably looking the field over before landing.”

“What kind of  plane is that?” Kline said.

“I  don’t know,” said Clint.” Never saw one like that before. Looks like a pregnant B-50.”

Alcocke said “Or like a Praying Mantis maybe…got two eyes on the top of its head.”

“Yeah, that’s one weird looking airplane,” Kline said.

By the time the aircraft stopped its engines, and parked near the end of the taxiway, not only were the airmen out near it, but also many people from town, including the sheriff’s department. Looking around, Lance didn’t see the girls from the Boar Pen. On close inspection the aircraft had two separate bubble canopies that appeared to house the pilots. A crew member exited from the plane and asked for Sergeant Greybull. Identifying himself, Clint then said, “What on earth kind of plane is that?”

“That’s a C74, Sarge. Take a good look, you may never see another one. Only fourteen have been built, and most are flying round trip from the States to Japan and Korea.”

“Okay. So what do you have in it for us?”

“All kinds of goodies, including a Second Lieutenant, probably carrying money. In any case he’s armed with a forty-five.”

A movement under the plane caught their attention. A large panel descended from the belly of the plane. Atop it was a  tractor with a blade attached. “Hot dog. We can sure use that,” Clint said.

“Good, how about getting a deuce over here, and strong hands. There’s more coming and we need some help.”

Clint called the troops to come over to the cargo elevator. Once they got the tractor out of the way, the elevator descended with a fork lift. “Man, I sure hope you’re leaving that.”

“It’s not mine so you sure can have it. There is some fuel in it.”

“Elsas. We got  someone who knows how to drive these things?”

“If not, we’ll sure learn. We need to get gas in them. Probably use diesel.”

“Yeah, back to Ft. Peck again.”

A voice that Clint didn’t recognize at first said, “No problem with the tractor. I can  handle that.”

He turned to see Lieutenant Byers standing behind him. Clint was so surprised he saluted. “You’ve got experience with a tractor, Sir?”

“You bet. Used to drive a dozer in my Dad’s junk yard.”

“Sir, be my guest.”

The loadmaster showed Priebe how to drive the fork lift, but wouldn’t let him use it to take pallets off the elevator. “You can practice on these things after we get the aircraft out of the way.”

Clint was so busy directing the troops collecting materiel’s, he was surprised to hear another voice from behind him that he didn’t know. “Is there a Sergeant Greybull around here.” Turning  he found himself saluting another Second Lieutenant, one looking sharp in the new Air Force blue uniform, the line of which was somewhat distorted by the heavy gun belt he wore.

“Yes Sir, that’s me.”

“I’m Lieutenant Townsend. You men really don’t wear uniforms out here, do you?”

“No Sir. Special dispensation because of the conditions we work under.”

Townsend tapped a large heavy leather case he was carrying. “I understand, however, Air Force regs require you to be in uniform to collect pay. I hope you still have them.”

“Oh yes Sir. We’re sure happy to see you. Do you have to return on this plane?”

“I sure do”

“How much time do you have?”

Townsend looked at his watch. “If its all unloaded, they want to leave at sixteen hundred.”

“I can see a problem here, Sir. Troops won’t be finished till the planes unloaded. Then we have to go in town to get our uniforms on. Plus however long it takes to pay ten men.”

“How far is it into town.” Townsend frowned, looked at the plane, looked at his watch. He’d seen enough of the town to know he didn’t want to be stranded there. He also knew the air crew could care less if he were aboard or not. “What’s in those buildings over there?”

“The near one is Quonset One, our operating base, such as it is.”

“You got a desk and two chairs in there?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I need one of your men to help me. He and I’ll go to that building now, to prepare. Get the rest of your men there as soon as possible. Uniforms are out. Cutting corners is in.”

“Yes Sir. Corporal Hooper. On the double. Assist the payroll officer, Lieutenant Townsend, over at Q-1.”

Getting out of the heavy work to help Lieutenant Townsend delighted Corporal Hooper. Sitting next to the officer, Hooper felt his pulse go up. A strange feeling came over him. He had to keep from looking at Townsend’s face. His own face flamed. While counting the cash, Hooper felt a tingle each time their fingers touched.
What’s the matter with me? He’s good-looking. So what? Oh my God! My dick is swelling…No I can’t be…I can’t be…
Hooper choked back his emotions by concentrating on the job at his shaking hand.

“What’s the matter Corporal? You having a hard time counting all this money?” Townsend spoke lightly. He didn’t want anything to interrupt them.

“No Sir. I just realized how little we’re getting.”

By virtue of his rank, Clint was first in line. Because he wasn’t assigned to the detachment, Lt. Byers’ pay had not been included. Patton, Elsas and Werner were next in line.  A glitch appeared, when none of the other airmen were carrying their ID cards in their work clothes. Townsend banged his fist on the table. “That snaps it. I’ve cut corners too far already. No ID cards, no pay.” A chorus of groans behind him, he glowered at the warming up C-74.

Clint glared at the troops and waved his hands down to shush them up. He said, “Sir, we are four responsible NCOs here. I know every one of these men very personally. I can vouch for every one of them. So can the other NCOs.”

Townsend’s frown turned to a smile. “Hurry up you guys. Quick like bunnies, lets get this done.” His frown returned when the C-74 started down the taxi way. “Oh shit Those soandsos’ll leave me here. Damn ‘em!” He finished paying Kline, and stood to watch the C-74 moving away.

Clint shouted, “Grab your stuff, Lieutenant. Get in the Jeep.”

“What can you do, Sergeant?”

“Hang on tight Lieutenant. I’m gonna shut down an aircraft.” Clint drove across the taxiway and out onto the runway. “I can beat that plane, Lieutenant.” He drove much faster than the lumbering plane taxied.

Lieutenant Townsend hung onto the Jeep with one hand and his hat with the other. His heart pounded, breathing hard,
will this stunt get me in trouble too? This Sergeant is crazy!
At the end of the runway, Clint turned the Jeep onto the taxiway and drove slowly toward the aircraft. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Townsend said. 

Clint didn’t answer.
Stop! You sonovabitch.
He drove the Jeep toward the plane in a head-on collision course. Clint could see the copilot waving, and probably screaming at him. Clint stared him down. Townsend groaned. Close enough to still see the pilots above him in their bubbles, Clint stopped the Jeep. The plane slowed down and stopped. Clint stood and waved his arms, and pointed to Lieutenant Townsend. He got no signal from the cockpit.

After a few minutes of stalemate, the inboard engine was shut down. The flight engineer appeared from a high, open, cargo door on the side, and waved. Clint drove as close as he dared. Townsend handed his case up to the engineer, who said to Clint, “You’re one crazy sonovabitch.” Then laughed.

Clint boosted Townsend up to where the engineer pulled him aboard. Townsend said, “Thanks Sergeant Greybull. I just hope this stunt doesn’t get you court-martialed.”

Besides the tractor and fork lift, the C-74 had dropped off two pallets of cement bags, two of two-by-fours, one of aluminum sheets, and a box containing two post-hole diggers, rolls of insulated wire, sundry construction material, and small tools.

“Okay you guys listen up. Now ya’ve got paid, I know you’re hot to trot, but this is still a duty day, and we’ve got a lot to do. No body leaves until all this stuff is either in Q-2 or Q-3, except for the aluminum sheets. They can sit outside. Protecting the cement is first priority. Now that we have a forklift, we can get the gas cans off the deuce. Tony Elsas, run up to that ammo bunker and see if it would make a good gas cache. If so, when we’re through with it here, take the forklift and deuce and store the gas barrels up there.”

Hearing Kline and Alcocke bitching about the amount of pay they received, Clint explained what Townsend told him. “What you got today was just a temporary emergency pay, so no one got their usual money. They don’t have all our pay records transferred to Air Div yet. When they do, we should be back on track, if not by the fifteenth, surely by the thirty-first.”

“Great,” Kline said. “I must owe half of what I got to Chet.”

“Yeah, we gonna have enough left for a trip to the Boar Pen? Gonna be another short month,” Alcocke added.

“Listen up guys. We all came up short. I’ll see if Chet won’t extend us a little until we get regular pay. That ought to ease some of your bitching. By the way, once they get the records straight, we’ll also be drawing temporary duty  pay, that is to say quarters and rations.”

Middle of the afternoon, Jewel came over from Q-2 where he’d been working, to bring a large package to Corporal Hooper. “I didn’t want to, but Sergeant Patton ordered me to deliver this to ya.”

“What is it? And why don’t I want it?”

“Slide projector…and  VD slides.”

“Oh shit. What am I supposed to do with them?”

“Follow appropriate regs, he says.”

“Crap. And he said give them right to me. Balls. Have you seen the VD slides yet this year?”

“Naw. I ain’t seen ‘em since basic.”

Looking at the package on Hooper’s desk, Clint said, “What’s going on, fellows.”

“VD slide show. Required once a year for all EM.”

“Rats. You gotta keep a record on each troop when they’ve seen em?

“Yes sir, Sergeant Greybull. I have to enter it in their record jacket.”

“Well…if we gotta, we gotta. Bet these’ll cool down some of you young studs…who were making it to the Boar Pen tonight. Set it up for sixteen hundred.”

“Jewel, round up the rest of the troops and tell them there is a mandatory formation at sixteen hundred. Everyone will be here. Period. No excuses.”

For the first time in many years Clint had to sit through gruesome color slides of venereal disease infections. The accompanying script assured them that the slides were taken locally.

“How can they be from here,” Kline said. “I don’t believe it.”

“No, that’s a stretch. These were probably intended for Korea or Japan.”

“Hey Alcocke” Kline said, “those slides get to ya? You look kinda pale.”

“I sure feel pale! Man, a guy could  get messed up with that stuff, an’ no joke!”

“Yeah, if that virulent strain of syphilis is around here, could make ya’ wish Lorena loaded our coffee with saltpeter.”

Loren Priebe said, “I don’t think that’d put me off as much as those rotten slides. An’ how about that guy with the big sore on his ass? I wonder how he got that.” 

“You don’t even want to wonder how he got that,” Sergeant Patton said.

“Lucky, you ain’t in Korea, or Japan.” Elsas said. “That script  didn’t say nothing about that camp they got over the Philippines…the one where ya go if  ya got a fatal dose of it.”

“Hunhh? Where’d ya hear that, Sergeant Elsas,” Priebe said.

“From a buddy a mine back in Las Vegas. He was over in Japan a year ago… said a guy he knew got a case they couldn’t cure…which meant he couldn’t even return to the States…an when they knew he was gonna die from it, they shipped ‘im to this camp to wait his time.”

“Jesus Christ! I thought they could cure anything now,” Kline said. “Sure ya got the right poop on that?”