Last Days of Summer (23 page)

United States Marine Corps

Semper Fidelis

C
AMP
P
ENDLETON
O
CEANSIDE
, C
ALIFORNIA

To:
COL. WILLIAM KOUTRELAKOS

From:
SGT. ANDREW M. BURSTEIN

Re:
THE MARGOLIS KID

WE STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIM, BUT WE FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW HE GOT HERE. APPARENTLY THE TRANSPORT VEHICLE WAS LEFT UNGUARDED IN THE LOADING BAY AT THE BROOKLYN NAVY YARD WHILE CPL. BUNTZ WAS MOVING HIS BOWELS ELSEWHERE. THIS GAVE THE KID JUST ENOUGH TIME TO HOP ON BOARD AND TUNNEL HIS WAY THROUGH 200 DUFFEL BAGS HEADED FOR PENDLETON. IT LOOKS LIKE HE HAD QUITE A SETUP BACK THERE—WE FOUND TWO STERNO CANS. A BOX OF MATCHES,
A FLASHLIGHT, A STACK OF SUPERMAN COMIC BOOKS, AND ENOUGH GROCERIES TO FEED THE THIRD DIVISION FOR A WEEK. (CPL. BUNTZ ADMITTED THAT HE SMELLED PORK AND BEANS ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY BUT ASSUMED IT WAS THE CARBURETOR.) WE ALSO DISCOVERED A SMALL HOLE CUT INTO THE CANVAS SIDING—PRESUMABLY THE KID'S EMERGENCY BACKUP IF HE COULDN'T MAKE IT TO THE NEXT REST STOP. SO FAR THE WEATHER BUREAU HAS NOT RECEIVED ANY REPORTS OF AMBER RAIN FROM CONFUSED MOTORISTS, SO WE'RE PROBABLY SAFE ON THAT SCORE.

OUTSIDE OF ADMITTING THAT HE HAS ARMY BUSINESS UP AT MANZANAR, HE INSISTS THAT HE IS ONLY REQUIRED TO GIVE US HIS NAME, RANK AND SERIAL NUMBER. (IN SUPPORT OF HIS ARGUMENT, HE CITES THE USMC CODE OF REGULATIONS AND
THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI
, WITH RANDOLPH SCOTT. HOLLYWOOD IS TURNING INTO A REAL PAIN IN THE NECK.) THEN HE ASKED TO SEE PVT. BANKS AND PFC. STUKER, BOTH OF WHOM ARE STATIONED HERE AT THE BASE.

WE'VE CALLED THEM IN FROM THE FIELD AND WILL KEEP YOU ADVISED.

Dear Mrs. Toots,

I
knew
he was going to pull something like this. Didn't I say he was going to pull something like this? Just like I know that my name is Charlie Banks 3d Base and I was born in Wisc. and I am 24 and I love you, I
knew
he was going to pull something like this. Do I know this kid or what?

We were in the middle of crawling through bushes and trees and shooting each other due to war games when they sent a Jeep for me and Stuke. Right away we thought the jig was up and we were getting court-marshaled on account of they figured out that “APSFY Sir” means AND P.S. FUCK YOU. Instead they took us to the CO's office and the first thing we heard in the waiting room was Joey's voice from inside saying “Do not be a biscuithead. You start with the Gilbert Islands and work your way up to Japan. Smokes, even a girl knows that.” When they finally let us in, he was pointing to a big map on the wall and chewing out the Col. for Bataan and Singapore by using such words as “creepback” and “fringe merchants” and “working their bolt” and “aiming stakes”. and if you didn't know he was only 13 you would of thought that Patton shrunk. Even the Col. did not know what in Hell he was talking about. So instead of finding out, he gave us 72 hrs. leave to get him off the base and make sure he never came back. Who does he think we are—Houdini? How are we suppose to fit everything into 72 hrs.???? These are only some of the places I want to take him. (1) Graumans Chinese and the footprints. (2) Brown Derby (which is shaped like
one). (3) Arroyo Seco Pkway (where you can drive all the way to Pasadena without any stop signs). (4) Angels Flight Trolly (which goes up and down instead of back and forth). (5) Hollywood Canteen. (6) Bogey's house. (7) The “O” in the sign that says HOLLYWOODLAND, where you can sit at 6:00 in the A.M. while the sun is coming up and play “In the Mood” on your sax. And etc. It is a good thing I already started my list, because I
knew
he was going to pull something like this. Then we are going up to the Army Base at Manzanar to see what kind of trouble Craig has got himself into now, and to bring him and his folks home once in for all. Concentration camp my ass. The kids also said the old lady with the wooden leg was a spy.

We just got into L.A. and found ourself a room at the Biltmore. (Stuke gets to pay for it on account of he is a Pfc. and I'm not.) We wanted to take Joey to dinner at the Pig N Whistle but he is out like a light. He earned it. 3000 miles across the whole U.S.A. right under their nose and they never got wise to him.

Didn't I tell you he was going to pull something like this?

Love,
Pvt. Charlie

P.S. Thanks for squaring things with his Mom and Aunt Carrie. Maybe you can bluff them out of being sore at him by telling them that he forgot the difference between Calif. and Delaware. That happens to me all the time. Idaho, Nebraska, who
gives a shit? Either way, we will make sure he is on the train by Thurs. so he will be home in time for school.

P.S.2. Oh yeah. He's suppose to write an essay about spring vacation now. I told him that if he puts me in this one I will cut his hands off. Otherwise they will probably make us go to England and eat with the damn Queen or somebody.

P.S.3. Can you believe that he put one over on the whole USMC and got away with it???? I can't even scratch my ass without getting gigged.

Dear Rachel,

Well, you said I could write to you in Atlantic Beach, so I am. Right now I'm in California with Charlie and Stuke, and I thought about you tonight because we had dinner with Barbara Stanwyck at Ciro's. (In case I forgot to mention it, she's a close personal friend.) I told her that she was your favorite, so just before she kissed me goodnight she came up with the idea of signing a menu for you. Here it is. It's supposed to say “To my dearest fan Rachel, thank you,” except I got chocolate moose on “dearest”. And in case you're wondering, underneath it is Clark Gable's. I don't even know if you like him, but he always gets sore when we ask Barbara to sign stuff for our friends and we don't ask him too. So does Mickey Rooney.

I guess it's a good thing that we didn't get married after all. Being out here made me realize that I still need to sew a couple more wild oats before I'm ready to settle down. But I hope you're having fun at the beach anyway. Your eyes are bluer than the breaking waves and your skin is as white as the froth-filled foam on top. I'll probably see you at school next week even though Clark asked me to make a movie with him at Metro. But my Mom always says No whenever that happens, so don't worry.

Love,
Joey

P.S. Oh, yeah. Judy Garland says Hi.

Dear Mrs. M and Aunt Carrie,

I am inclosing a photo I took at the Harlem Club that I figured you would want to keep in your scrap book. It shows Joey playing my sax next to Louis Armstrong playing the trumpet. (Joey is the short one.) He says he didn't mean to be a show-off, but you know how his head works. Stuke got us a table at the ring side even though it cost him $10 to do it (which is his job now on account of he is a Pfc. and I'm not), so we were close enough that when Pearl Bailey started singing “The Saint Louis Blues” and Joey winked at her, she could see it. Right away she stopped the song and said to the band “Hold it fellas. I think I got me a beau here” and asked Joey how old he was. (He said 22 and she pretended to believe him.) After that she wanted to know what he was doing all the way down on Central Ave. so he told her that he dropped in to see if he could give L. Armstrong a “couple of pointers on the horn”. By then I could figure out what was coming next so I handed him my sax, which I always bring with me in case somebody asks me to toot with them (which they never do). Then Pearlie May said to Armstrong “You hear that Louie? You got competition” and the next thing we knew Joey was on the stage playing “Moonlight Seranade” with the rest of the band going along behind him. L. Armstrong even made a couple of trumpet mistakes on purpose just so Joey wouldn't be the only one. When they were finished, Louis said to Joey “How did you do that, man?” and Joey said back “It's like you always say, man. If you can't feel it, I can't explain it.”
And Armstrong took the credit for it like he was the one who said it all along instead of Satchmo. Smokes, what a phony. Joey says he wants to be a Negro now, but I told him I can't help him with that.

In case you didn't know it already, this kid isn't afraid of
any
thing.

Charlie

P.S. I haven't clued him in yet, but I am giving him my saxaphone to take home with him on account of he will probably have better luck with it than I do anyway. He gets L. Armstrong and all I get is such things as boots and baseballs thrown at my head. Make sure he takes care of it though.

Miss Veronica Lake

c/o Hollywood Canteen

1451 Cahuenga Boulevard

Hollywood, CA

Dear Veronica,

In case you don't remember, I'm the Marine who danced with you nine times last night & asked you to marry him twice. And if that doesn't narrow it down, I was with another Marine & the 13-year-old kid who kept calling me “Dad.” Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm only 22 & I'm not really his father, but my buddy put him up to it because he's still sore that I made Pfc. and he didn't.

Look, I know that you probably dance with a lot of guys & hear the same routines from most of us, but if I'd taken all the dough I blew on seeing you in
Sullivan's Travels
and
This Gun for Hire
and given it to Roosevelt instead, he could probably pay for the whole damn war with it. I guess this doesn't make me special, but what are the chances that you'd let me buy you a hamburger & a chocolate egg cream anyway? Or coffee & a donut? Maybe I could rack up some points by telling you that my liberty is up in 36 hours & you'd be my last date before I shipped out, but I'm not going to do that (even though it's true). Instead, I'm just going to tell you that I'm staying at the Biltmore in Room 714 on the off chance that
maybe you'll call and say yes. Come to think of it, I'd even settle for walking you to your car.

Jordy Stuker

P.S. I don't know if it makes a difference, but in real life I play first base for the New York Giants. Honest. So I'm famous too. Sort of.