The Corp - Counterattack Part 34

"I didn't think you would," Marwood said. "When a member of the Naval Service is officially notified that he, or she, is about to be sent to sea, or overseas, as I have just notified you, the officer making the notification is required to advise the person being sent overseas that failure to make the s.h.i.+pment-missing the s.h.i.+p or the airplane, or failing to report to the departure point as scheduled-is a more serious offense than simple absence without leave. Specifically, that offense is called 'absence without leave for the purpose of avoiding hazardous service.' Severe court-martial penalties are provided."

Barbara felt rage flow through her; Joe Howard was immediately forgotten.

"Are you implying that I would go AWOL?" she flared.

"Not at all," Commander Marwood replied.

"It sounded like it!"

"I don't like your tone of voice, Ensign Cotter," Commander Marwood said, angrily.

Barbara glared at Commander Marwood, but said nothing. Commander Marwood glared back.

Finally, Commander Marwood said, "Cotter, there was nothing personal in this. Regulations require that an individual being sent overseas be informed of the penalties provided for AWOL with the intent of avoiding hazardous service."

"Then I'm sorry," Barbara said.

"I'm really getting sick and tired of telling you, Cotter," Lieutenant Commander Hazel Gower said, "that a junior appends 'Ma'am' to whatever she says to a superior officer."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Barbara said.

Commander Marwood waved her hand in a sign that meant, OK, forget it.

"Where am I going?" Barbara asked, remembering just in time to append "Ma'am."

"I don't know," Commander Marwood said. "Possibly to Hawaii. Possibly elsewhere. If they were going to station you aboard one of the hospital s.h.i.+ps, I think your orders would have spelled that out. All your orders say is that you are to report to the Personnel Center, San Diego Navy Yard, for overseas service."

"When?" Barbara asked.

"There's some processing to go through. A physical. Shots, that sort of thing. Getting your pay up to date. Getting your personal affairs in order. Making sure you have the necessary uniforms and equipment. That'll take a couple of days. Then you will be given a delay en route leave, up to fourteen days, which should give you time to go home. So, as a specific answer to your question, you will report to the Navy Yard two weeks from the day your processing is over and you begin your leave. When you will leave there depends on the availability of s.h.i.+pping."

"I see."

"Now, regulations also require that I ask you if there is any reason you wish to apply for relief from your orders on humanitarian grounds."

Joe Howard reappeared in Barbara's thinking.

"Sick parents, that sort of thing?" Commander Marwood pursued.

"No, Ma'am," Barbara said. "Nothing like that."

"I've scheduled your last day of duty for Sunday," Lieutenant Commander Gower said. "You can start your out-processing on Monday morning."

"I'd sort of planned on having the weekend off," Barbara said, adding, again, just in time, "Ma'am."

"Your s.h.i.+pping out has left me short of people," Commander Gower said. "I had to rearrange the s.h.i.+fts. That requires that you pull a s.h.i.+ft on Sunday. Sorry."

Barbara nodded her understanding.

"That will be all then, Cotter," Commander Marwood said. "Good luck. I'll try to see you before you s.h.i.+p out."

"Thank you," Barbara said.

She had not appended "Ma'am" to her reply, but neither Commander Gower nor Commander Marwood called her on it.

When she was gone, Commander Gower said, "Well, there goes the romance of the century, down the toilet."

"That's a pretty G.o.dd.a.m.ned b.i.t.c.hy thing to say, Hazel!" Commander Marwood snapped.

Ensign Barbara Cotter was twenty-five minutes late meeting First Lieutenant Joseph L. Howard. Her replacement was late, and taking the G.o.dd.a.m.ned drug inventory took longer than it usually did, and then she caught herself just standing in the shower, was.h.i.+ng the same shoulder over and over again, lost in thought, and with no idea whatever how long she'd been doing that.

And then when she finally got to the main entrance, he wasn't there.

He was here, and left.

Or he couldn't get off, and won't be here.

Oh, Jesus, now what?

A LaSalle convertible pulled up before the main entrance and tapped its horn. She saw a Marine officer in it.

No, G.o.dd.a.m.n you, I don't want a G.o.dd.a.m.ned ride!

Where the h.e.l.l can he be?

The Marine officer in the s.h.i.+ny LaSalle convertible blew the horn again. Barbara glowered at him, working up what she hoped was a magnificent look of contempt. The Marine officer waved at her.

Oh, my G.o.d, it's Joe!

She ran to the car as he opened the door.

"Hi!" he said, as she got in.

She kissed him. Hard. On the lips.

"They frown on public displays of affection," Joe said.

"f.u.c.k 'em," Barbara said.

"Ooooh! I'll have to wash out your mouth with soap."

She slid next to him on the seat.

I'll have to tell him. But not just yet.

"Where did you get this?"

"Nice, huh?" he said.

"Where'd you get it?"

"It belongs to the guy from the 2nd Raiders," Joe said. "We're going to have dinner with him and his girlfriend."

"Do we have to?"

"I told him we would," he said. "Any reason you don't want to?"

"I wanted to be alone."

"He's a nice guy. A Mustang, like me. Out of the 4th Marines. But he went through officer candidate school. Killer McCoy."

"Killer McCoy?"

"Yeah. They call him that because he killed a bunch of Chinese and a couple of Italian Marines in China," Joe said admiringly. "He carries a knife in his sleeve."

He pointed to his left sleeve to demonstrate.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not. Everybody in the Corps knows about Killer McCoy."

"I know," she said, aware that she was acting the b.i.t.c.h, "you and your friend the Killer and me, we're going to go down to the waterfront and see if we can pick a fight, right?"

"Hey!" he said. "What's the matter with you?"

"Sorry," Barbara said.

"Actually, we're going to the San Diego Yacht Club," Joe said. "How's that for cla.s.s?"

"Where?"

"The Yacht Club. Killer lives there. On a yacht."

"I don't believe any of this conversation," she said.

"You'll see."

Twenty minutes later, they pa.s.sed through the gates of the San Diego Yacht Club. And five minutes after that, they stepped from a floating pier onto the aft deck of a fifty-three-foot, twin-diesel-powered Mitch.e.l.l yacht named Last Time.

"Hi!" a very good-looking young woman greeted Barbara. She wore her black hair in a pageboy, and was wearing shorts and a T-s.h.i.+rt. "Welcome aboard! I'm Ernie Sage."

"h.e.l.lo," Barbara said.

A trim, brown-haired young man in shorts and a Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt appeared at the door to the interior. He was even younger than Joe.

"I was getting a little worried," he said. "And you're right, she's gorgeous!"

"I'm very glad to meet you," Barbara said. "I'm Barbara."

"I'm Ken McCoy," he said. "Romeo here has been bending my ear all week about you."

"He was just pulling your leg. He does that," Barbara replied. "He told me on the way over here that we were going to meet somebody who carries a knife in his sleeve, and is called 'Killer' because he kills people. Chinese and Italians, Joe said."

"Thanks a lot, a.s.shole," Ken McCoy said furiously, and went back inside the cabin of the boat.

"Ken!" the girl called Ernie Sage said, and, after giving Joe a withering look, went into the cabin after him.

"What did I say?"

"I'm the a.s.shole, not you. I should have warned you, getting called 'Killer' p.i.s.ses him off."

"You mean it's true? He has killed people?"

Joe nodded.

Ernie Sage reappeared, holding Second Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy, USMCR, by the ear.

"Ken has something to say," she said.

"Ouch!" he said, as she twisted the ear. He looked at Barbara. "I apologize for my language." Ernie Sage let go of his ear, whereupon McCoy added, "I'm sorry I called your a.s.shole of a boyfriend an a.s.shole."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' Ernie Sage said, and jabbed him in the ribs.

"Hey, Ken," Joe said. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, forget it," McCoy said. "I never thought you were very bright."

"What we're going to do," Ernie Sage said brightly, "is do this all over again. h.e.l.lo, my name is Ernestine Sage. This gentlemen is Lieutenant Kenneth R. McCoy. I know that you're Lieutenant Howard, but I don't believe I know this young lady." "How do you do," Barbara said, going along, and deciding she liked both this young woman and her boyfriend. "I'm Barbara Cotter."

"How do you do," Ernie Sage said. "Welcome aboard the Last Time."

"Miss Cotter?" Ken McCoy asked politely. "May I call you Barbara?"

"Yes, of course."

"Anybody ever tell you, Barbara, that your boyfriend is an a.s.shole?"

"That did it," Ernie Sage said, and struck McCoy with both hands, palms open, on the chest-which action caused him to stagger backward, encounter the low rail of the aft c.o.c.kpit, and do a backward flip into the water.

Joe Howard laughed deep in his stomach, went to the rail, looked over the side, and waved.

Whereupon Ensign Barbara Cotter struck Lieutenant Howard in the small of his back with both hands, palms open, which caused Lieutenant Howard to go over the side and into the water, face first.

Ernie Sage looked at Barbara Cotter.

"Why do I have this feeling that what we're witnessing here is the beginning of a long, close, rewarding friends.h.i.+p?"

"Oh, G.o.d!" Barbara wailed, and tears formed in her eyes.