The Predators (29 page)

“I appreciate your consideration, sir,” I said. “But I was planning on staying in France after the war.”

“You have a girl?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “But, Colonel, Buddy knows as much about the division as I do, and I know that he wants to go home as soon as he can. Especially with you, sir. He has a great deal of respect for you.”

The colonel thought for a moment and poured another drink. “Then what will you do?” he asked.

“Just leave me the discharge papers dated the day the war is officially over and I’ll be okay,” I answered. “I’m sure that I can get a job here.” I held my breath while he thought about my idea.

Again, he poured another shot of bourbon into his glass. He looked into the bottom of the glass. “Okay, Sergeant,” he said. “You send the private over to see me. I know that he’s bright enough to handle the job. I’ll sign your discharge papers and you can send them into headquarters whenever you are ready. And I will give you junk orders for the jeeps you have left. Make sure you get some money out of them.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, standing and saluting.

He stood straight up from his chair and began to salute, but he didn’t quite make it. He started to fall forward across the desk, knocking the bottle of bourbon and his empty glass onto the floor.

I don’t know how, but Paul must have had a sixth sense. He was in the office in only a few moments. He looked at the colonel. “He can’t hold his liquor.”

Frenchmen are funny even when they don’t mean to be funny. “Stupid,” I said. “Get the fat man to help me straighten him up. I’ll run over and get Buddy to take him back to the colonel’s apartment.”

“What was it he needed to tell you?” he asked.

I smiled at him. “I guess you’ll have me around awhile. I’m getting my discharge papers. And by the way, tell blue suit and gray suit that Buddy will be leaving with the colonel.”

20

Suddenly everything changed. Two days later, May 2, Buddy put Ulla on the train to Norway and picked up his duffel bags from my office in the garage. “I’m meeting the old man in Paris,” he said. “Tomorrow we’re going to the States.”

“Okay,” I said.

“That’s all you have to say?” he asked, looking at me. “Aren’t you even going to say ‘Good luck’?”

I smiled at him. “Buddy, I never knew you were so sentimental! You were always ‘Mr. Cool-man’ all the time.”

“Jerry,” he said, “I was never like that with you. You were always my friend and I felt like we were brothers.”

“We are,” I said. “But we’re taking a different road now. I’m going to miss you, but I’ll have to get used to it.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said.

I looked at him. There were tears on his cheeks. “You’re crying,” I said.

“Niggers don’t cry,” he said, embracing me. “You’re just a crazy Jew boy.”

I hugged him back. “You’re my best friend, you son of a bitch. The best friend I have in the world. Now let go of me or people will think that we’re queers.”

He stepped back, took out a cigarette, and lit it. “I suppose you couldn’t grab a jeep and drive me to headquarters?”

I took out a cigarette of my own and lit it. “You haven’t changed.” I laughed. “I was beginning to think you had really just come to say good-bye.”

He laughed, too, and let the smoke trail out of his nostrils. “That is what I came for,” he said. “But I thought it wasn’t a bad idea if you took me into Paris. Being best friends and all of that.”

“You are a prick.” I grabbed his hand. “You’re a rich man. You can take a taxi into Paris.”

He shook my hand. Each of us was holding his cigarette in the other hand. “When am I going to see you again?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I’ll be hanging around here.”

“After the war?”

“Yes, after the war,” I replied.

“How can I get in touch with you?”

I thought for a moment. “Reach me through Paul at his club. He’ll always know where I am.”

“Will you be able to keep in touch with Ulla?” he asked.

“I will,” I said. “Besides, Giselle likes her; they’ve already arranged to keep in touch.”

He looked at his watch. “I’m running late. I better get going.”

I took his hand again. “Good luck, Buddy.”

He smiled at me. “And you, too.” Then he turned and walked out of the office.

*   *   *

Five days later, May 7, the war was over in Europe. Paris became nothing but a party town. The American soldiers were heroes. Wine, champagne, and beer flowed freely. The girls, married or not, were all caught up in the fever. Couples were fucking in the park in the daylight, in the hallways and stairways of the apartment houses. Love was everywhere.

The Blue Note was jammed from the minute it opened until the last closing drink. The homosexuals were no different than anyone else. Both sides of the runway were crowded, every table jammed, with champagne corks popping and the wine flowing. I couldn’t get a place at my usual table, so I waited backstage so that I could see what was going on.

Paul came up behind me and tapped my shoulder. “What do you think?” he asked.

“The war is really over,” I said. “I never thought I would see this kind of happiness.”

“It’s been many years,” Paul said. “It’s like climbing out of hell. So much death. So much destruction.”

“I had it easy,” I said. “I didn’t go through any of it, really. Maybe I should be ashamed of myself.”

“You are human,” he said. “You had no choice of what the army would have you go and do. It might just as well have been that they sent you to the front. Who knows in this life?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “For me the war turned into a business.”

“That was what the army gave you to do,” he said. “The extra was there for anyone to pick up. You are a good soldier. You did what you were told to do.”

“Were the French like that?” I asked.

“They were like all the others. They stole, they lied, they collaborated with the enemy, they turned on their own French Jews. And many of them made money because of it. Much more money than you can ever dream about. At the end of it, the bureaucrats will own the country, not the patriots who risked their lives for victory.”

I stared at him. “You have no respect for any of them.”

“Why should I?” he asked. “They gave up half of Asia, a quarter of Africa, and fifteen percent of the Middle East because they bled everything they could from them and then shit them out. Yet, Corsica is still held prisoner because they still have use for it.”

“Since the war is over,” I said, “what will happen with the clubs?”

He laughed. “The clubs will do all right. Maybe they will not make as much money, since the American soldiers will be leaving, but Paris is a city that all the world comes to for entertainment and excitement.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if I did the right thing. I still am uncertain about what I will be doing here,” I said.

“Relax,” he said. “You have celebrating to do now. Later we will worry about what you can do.” He turned and looked at what was happening in the club. The pandemonium was deafening. He turned back to me. “I’m going to cancel the shows for tonight. There’s enough going on here. I’ll send the girls home. I don’t want any of them to be raped here.”

It was eleven o’clock when Giselle and I walked home. The streets were crowded with people happy with victory. Even with Giselle holding my arm, the American uniform was like a magnet. People would stop me and kiss me on both cheeks, shouting wonderful things about the Americans.

We finally made our way into the apartment. I was out of breath even before we started climbing the stairs to the apartment. “I felt like everybody was so happy and excited, they were ready to devour me.”

She smiled as she unlocked the door. “They are happy because this is the first time they feel safe. The war has destroyed all of our confidence in ourselves.”

“It’s over now,” I said as we walked into the apartment. “Now we will begin to forget it.”

“We will never forget,” she said. She dropped her coat on a chair. She turned and placed her hands on my face. “I love you,” she said. “I was not afraid before because you were here with me. Now, I am afraid.”

I looked into her eyes; they were deep blue with a hint of tears. “Why now, Giselle? We are staying together.”

“For how long?” she whispered. “Sooner or later, you’ll have to go home and I will be left alone. Like my sister was when her lover left her.”

“I am staying here, you know that. My discharge papers have already been approved. When my work is over at the garage I’m out of the army and free,” I said, and held her close to me. “If I do go back to the States, you will come with me.”

She looked up at me. “Do you really mean that? Not just because I am upset now?”

I kissed her gently. “I promise.”

We went into the bedroom. I had undressed before she did, so I brought the radio into the bedroom and put it on the night table. I turned on the Voice of America program. It was mid-afternoon in New York and the announcer was broadcasting from Times Square.

I could hardly hear his voice over the noise of the crowds in the square. It was the first time I had heard the words in English.
“The war in Europe is over. It’s VE day!”
Then they cut to Kate Smith singing “God Bless America.” Then I began to cry. I couldn’t believe it. The world had turned upside down, again.

My eyes were still blurry from the tears as she came into the bedroom and stood at the door, saluting. She was completely naked. And I don’t know how she did it, but she had taped a paper American flag just above her pussy, and held a bottle of champagne and two glasses in her other hand.

21

It was two weeks later when the discharge papers came down. Not only for me, but for the whole platoon. Sergeant Felder came to me. He held his transfer orders in his hand. “I thought they told you we would have time to get rid of the jeeps.”

“So did I,” I said. “But they fucked me. That’s the way of the army.”

“We’ve got seven cars left,” he insisted. “We’re losing a lot of money.”

“You’re going home,” I said. “Don’t complain about it. At least you’re not going to the Pacific.”

“I heard that they’re sending another officer over here to make sure everything is wrapped up correctly,” he said.

“Felder, don’t be a pain in the ass,” I said. “It’s over. You got pretty good money for it. Now take it home and maybe you can settle down with your wife and kids. You have enough to open an automobile repair place if you want. And I’m sure your wife will be happy to have you home again.”

“I don’t know how happy she’s going to be. I still have the clap,” he said.

“Christ!” I said. “You have had that for six months. Didn’t you take care of it?”

“I seen a doctor three times. Each time he said I was cured. But I wasn’t.” He looked back at me dejectedly.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Everybody else got over it in just a little time.”

He looked at me. “I was a schmuck,” he said. “I was hot for this girl and I always went back to her.”

“Schmuck is right.” I laughed. “At least now you can get over it. Don’t go see this girl anymore. Let the doctor straighten you out before you get discharged and go home.”

He sat shaking his head. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“It takes practice.” I laughed. “There’s just one thing I want before you leave. I want to get a car fixed up for me. And I want it finished in three days and then I’ll take off. I want it to be like brand-new. You do that and I’ll sign your discharge papers with a commendation.”

*   *   *

Felder had the car finished ahead of schedule. It took him only two days. That night I took the jeep into one of Paul’s hidden garages. It was just in time. That morning we moved the other jeeps that could be saved into another garage that was owned by a Corsican friend of Paul’s.

Late that same afternoon the door of my garage office opened and a second lieutenant stood in front of me. “Sergeant Cooper?” he questioned.

I stood up and saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Lieutenant Johnson.” He returned the salute. “I’ve been ordered down here to move the squad back to headquarters.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “We’ve been expecting you, sir.”

“You have nine men?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Are they ready to move out this afternoon?” he asked.

“They are all in their quarters, sir,” I answered.

“I have a bus ready to take them to headquarters,” he said. He looked around the garage and junkyard as we walked back to the squad’s quarters. “You have a hell of a lot of junk jeeps here. Weren’t any of them able to be repaired?”

“We have destruction orders for each of them, sir,” I said. “We used them for parts to repair the cars that we were fixing.”

“Didn’t any of these get sold to junk dealers?” he asked.

“That’s not my responsibility, sir,” I said. “Any orders like that have to come from headquarters.”

“Strange,” he said. “I should think that they would have taken care of that.”

I was silent.

“I saw from the orders that you’re being discharged here in France,” he said. “Is there any reason you didn’t want to go home?”

“My parents are gone, sir,” I said. “And I have no other family to go home to.”

“You have a girl?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

He nodded. “I thought so, Sergeant. That’s the reason most of the soldiers who want to stay here do.”

I didn’t answer. I looked at him. He seemed a young man, no older that I. “Have you been here long, sir?” I asked.

“Not really, Sergeant,” he answered. “I was just transferred here directly from West Point three weeks ago.”

Again I was silent.

He looked at me. “You know, Sergeant. I’m jealous of you. I didn’t get to see anything of the war like you did. You must have seen many things. I wanted them to transfer me to the Pacific, but they wanted me here.”

“There’s an important job to do here, sir,” I said. Schmuck, I thought. He missed nothing except getting killed.

“From here I’m being transferred to Berlin,” he said. “That should be interesting. I’ve seen all those movies with Marlene Dietrich. The German girls have to be great.”