Rush to Glory

by Robert L Hecker

  She smiled at Luke. “Hi, lover.”

  Luke stepped forward and slipped an arm around her waist. “Hi, gorgeous. You remember my brother Hal.”

  Her lips curled mischievously. “Very well.”

  “Gertie says you don’t get off for an hour. I’ll wait for you in the pub.”

  “What about Adel?” Hal asked. “You’re not coming in with me?”

  Luke shook his head. “Nothing I can do.”

  Crystal frowned. “One of your men?”

  “Yeah. Waist gunner. He lost a leg.”

  “Oh. And you don’t want to see him?”

  “That’s right.” A trace of anger showing in Luke’s voice.

  Crystal made a small gesture of disapproval. “Well, it’s up to you.”

  “What the shit am I supposed to do? Hold his hand and tell him bedtime stories?”

  Crystal said softly, “That’s what some of them want.”

  “Not from me.”

  “All right, Luke. I understand.”

  “Well, don’t make it sound like it’s my fault. The guy’s luck ran out; someday, I might get it myself. And I sure as hell won’t want anybody holding my hand.”

  “You won’t know unless it happens.”

  “That’s bullshit. I know. You don’t win wars patting guys on the head.”

  “You don’t win them in the local pub either.”

  “Look.” Luke’s voice was low, controlled. “I like Adel as well as the next guy. But I can’t do a damn thing for him. He’s out. Finished. I’ve got my own problems.”

  Crystal stared at Luke in apparent surprise, but Hal had a feeling that she wasn’t really surprised . . . or annoyed.

  “You’ve got your own problems. That’s a reason?”

  It seemed to Hal that for some reason, she was baiting Luke.

  “Oh, come off it, Crys. If Hal wants to hold his hand, that’s his business. But not me. I’m not the type.” Luke pulled his hat on with a savage yank. “I’ll be waiting for you in the pub. You gonna be there or not?”

  Slowly, as though she had won a victory, Crystal smiled. “Of course, Luke. I’ll be there.”

  Luke turned and stalked out, slamming the door shut behind him. Crystal looked at Hal and shook her head.

  “He can’t stand to be around anyone who’s ill or helpless, can he?” she asked.

  “He’s always been like that,” Hal said. It was the truth, and yet it was a lie. It was true that Luke had always been like that. But not because it pained him to be near anyone helpless or ill. If it was Colonel Sutton in there or General Spaatz, you’d have to chain Luke to the wall to keep him out. But Adel? What good was Adel to him now?

  Crystal said, “Come on. I’ll take you in.”

  He followed her into the hall where they turned to the right down a long narrow corridor past closed doors painted with black numbers.

  The narrowness of the corridor forced Hal to walk slightly behind Crystal, and he was struck by the ethereal aura created by the starched whiteness of her uniform, the blondness of her hair, and the stark white of the walls and ceiling. She was a specter drifting ahead of him; her presence made real by the faint rustle and crackle of starched cloth and a lingering breath of perfume.

  She stopped at number l32 and turned to him. “Before we go in, I want to apologize for what I said back there. It was really none of my business.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Luke was the one doing the talking.”

  “He usually does. But he’s probably forgotten about it already. I’m not so sure about you.”

  Hal grinned and shook his head. “I’ve forgotten it too.”

  “Thanks.” She turned back to the door, then stopped. “Are you going to join us tonight?”

  The question was so unexpected that Hal hesitated. Why would she want him to join them? She was probably being polite. And Luke certainly would take a dim view of having his little brother along on a date. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  “If you don’t, how are you going to get back to the base?”

  “I assumed there were buses.”

  “No. Not until tomorrow.”

  “Well, I can always hitchhike.”

  “Not much traffic at night. You might have a long wait.”

  “I’ll have to chance it. I’ve got to get back tonight. I’m going to London tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be necessary. I’ll send Luke home early.”

  “Oh, no. He’ll blame me. I’m in enough trouble with him already.”

  “No, he won’t. I’ll tell him I’ve got a headache.”

  Hal winced. “He won’t like that.”

  “He won’t have a choice.” Her lips curved into a cynical smile. “Besides, how could he object? You are his brother.”

  Common sense told Hal to back out of this situation. There was nothing in it but trouble. He knew very well what Luke’s idea of a good date was, and it did not include a third party. Especially if the third party was his little brother. But the thought of being near Crystal Buehler, even for a little while, overruled his instincts.

  “Okay,” he said. “You and Luke can go to a movie or something. I’ll wait for you in the pub.”

  “Good.” She put her hand on his arm, impulsively. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Hal glanced down at her hand. It looked cool and white, but it burned through the sleeve of his uniform. Still, he couldn’t read anything in her eyes except a cold appraisal, even though he was sure she felt the sudden tension.

  She smiled and took her hand from his arm but not self-consciously. “The pub is just down the street and around the corner.”

  She opened the door and crossed to the dim outline of a window, where she pulled down a blackout curtain, creating absolute darkness in the room. An overhead light illuminated when she pulled a long string.

  Before the building had been converted into a hospital, this might have been someone’s living room, but now it contained two hospital beds, one on either side of the window. The room had been painted the same glaring white, but despite the coat of paint, it looked a little shabby. Between the beds was a small table holding books and two water glasses with bent glass straws.

  There was a man in each bed, lying on their backs. In the dim light, it was difficult to distinguish their faces, but the bed covers over the man on the left showed the outline of only one leg. Hal felt a wave of pity. Adel had looked like an athlete. What was his life going to be like now?

  Adel half-opened his eyes and looked at Crystal. “You have a visitor,” she whispered.

  Adel blinked and slid his gaze toward Hal without turning his head. Crystal turned to Hal. “He’s still sedated. You’d better not stay long.”

  “Okay,” Hal answered, and she went out, closing the door softly behind her.

  Adel recognized Hal and grinned faintly. “Hi,” he whispered.

  “Hi,” Hal said. He groped for words. He had never been adept at making small talk, and this was infinitely worse. But he couldn’t simply stare at Adel, trying not to look at the flattened coverlet where the leg should have been. So, he said, “How’s it going?”

  “Okay,” Adel said. “I’m doing okay.”

  Hal realized how little he knew about Bucky Adel. He tried to think of something reassuring he could say that Adel would not have already said to himself. Everything he could think of seemed so damn trite and stupid. What the hell was he doing here anyway? No wonder Luke hadn’t wanted to come in.

  “The other guys are coming over to see you as soon as they can,” he finally blurted out.

  “Yeah? That’ll be nice.”

  “Is there . . . anything I can do for you? Maybe write a letter?”

  �
�No. I’ll have plenty of time to do that, I guess.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” Hal paused again. “Have they said when they’ll be sending you back to the States?”

  Adel rolled his head on the bed. “Not yet. But I guess I got it made.”

  “I guess so,” Hal agreed. His gaze was drawn toward the flat coverlet where Adel’s left leg should have been, and Adel noticed it.

  “They told me what happened,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It won’t be too bad, I guess. I can still work.

  This was better. At last, he had something he could use to make a conversation. “What kind of work did you do?”

  “Butcher. In a shop. Butchers don’t have to walk around much.”

  “That’s right,” Hal agreed. “They don’t have to walk much.”

  The man in the other bed said clearly, “Son-of-a-bitch!” Hal turned to look at him, but the other man wasn’t looking at them. His eyes were open, and he was staring at the ceiling.

  “That’s all he ever says,” Adel murmured. “Every once in a while, he cuts loose.”

  “Oh,” Hal said. “Does he know it? I mean, is he all right?”

  “I guess so. I heard him talking to the nurse.”

  There was another pause.

  “Well,” Hal said lamely, “I’ll tell the others you’re doing all right.”

  He started to turn away, but a strangling sound from Adel brought him back. Adel’s face was contorted in a twisted grimace; tears were running down his cheek and disappearing silently on the soft pillow.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Hal asked quickly, then grimaced. Stupid question!

  “Nothin’,” Adel gasped, and Hal realized he was laughing.

  “It’s just that. . . .” Adel broke off in another spasm of laughter. “. . . I worked in a butcher shop. Ever since I got out of high school. And this is the first time I ever knew how them stupid carcasses felt. I used to use a cleaver. Whack. Whack. Only they were dead. But it’s the same thing, ain’t it?”

  Hal stared at Adel. What the hell was going through his mind? There was no way he could answer.

  “I couldn’t be a butcher no more. You can see that, can’t you? I couldn’t . . . I just couldn’t. You know. Whack. Whack.” Adel stopped. The tears were still there, but he wasn’t laughing anymore. His face was half-turned into the pillow. He didn’t look like a hero.

  “No,” Hal said, “I guess not.” He walked to the door and opened it.

  “Son-of-a-bitch,” the man in the other bed said again.

  “Yeah,” Hal echoed. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  He walked out and closed the door. Adel probably didn’t even know he had gone.

  CHAPTER 10

  When Hal entered the pub, he welcomed the sounds of people having fun. There were more than a dozen men and women in the small, low-ceilinged room, standing near the bar or sitting at small tables. Two elderly men were throwing darts at a target on the wall. All had beer glasses in their hands. Three of the men and one of the women were wearing heavy woolen English Army uniforms. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  When they noticed Hal standing just inside the doorway, two or three shouted, “Hello, Yank.”

  Hal waved and smiled and looked around for Luke. He saw him standing at the far end of the bar talking to an English Army officer who had two pips on his shoulder and a glass of beer in his hand. Hal couldn’t remember whether two pips meant he was a leftenant or a captain. Walking closer, he could tell by the slackness around Luke’s jaw that his brother had been drinking heavily. In front of him was a small whiskey glass instead of the usual beer mug.

  “All right, all right,” Luke was saying too loudly, “why the hell did we have to get in the war in the first place, I’d like to know? I’ll tell you why. Because the British let that bastard Hitler get away with murder, that’s why.”

  “Luke,” Hal said, “what’s going on?”

  Luke looked around and saw Hal. “Hal,” he said, “come on an’ have a drink with my ol’ buddy, Leftenant Tanner. That’s right, isn’t it, ol’ buddy? Leftenant Tanner?”

  “That’s right, sir,” the English officer said crisply.

  Luke leaned over the bar and brought out a nearly empty fifth of bourbon, which he patted lovingly. “My bottle. Brought it from the club. Can’t drink limey beer.” He pounded on the bar with the flat of his hand. “Hey, Mabel, give us another glass.”

  A dumpy little woman behind the bar wiped her hands on her apron and brought another glass. Luke poured Hal a straight shot of bourbon. Hal took it reluctantly.

  “Do you like bourbon, sir?” Hal asked the officer.

  “No,” the officer said with a smile. “Can’t stand the bloomin’ stuff.” He raised his glass of beer. “I’m a bitters man.”

  “That’s the bitter end,” Luke said and slapped the bar with delight. “Come on, leftenant. Tell the kid here how the Americans saved your bloody necks again.”

  The leftenant’s face tightened. “You certainly did, sir. We’re deeply grateful to you, sir. You have saved our bloody necks again, as you put it, and we really do appreciate it. Hooray for the red, white and blue and all that sort of thing. How was that, sir?”

  Luke peered at him intently, but the leftenant was not smiling, so Luke clapped him on the back. “Damn good, leftenant. Have a drink.” He raised the bottle of bourbon to pour some into the leftenant’s bitters.

  “No, thank you, sir,” the English officer said. He jerked his glass aside just as Luke started to pour, and the whiskey spilled out on the polished bar.

  Luke stared at the puddle, and his face clouded in anger. “What the hell . . .” he started, but Hal grabbed his arm and turned him around.

  “Luke,” he said quickly. “Take it easy. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “The hell it wasn’t.” Luke shrugged off Hal’s arm and half-turned back to the English officer who had backed off a step. The room grew suddenly quiet as everyone froze and looked toward the bar.

  “Luke!” Hal said sharply. “Take it easy.”

  “He started it. I’ll finish it.”

  The English officer smiled again, a tight little smile, and said easily, “Sorry, old boy. Accident, don’t cha know.”

  “Yeah,” Luke snapped. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before I offer you another drink.”

  “Come on, Luke,” Hal said, and he tugged his brother around. “I want to talk to you about . . . about Crystal.”

  “Okay,” Luke said. He picked up his glass and bottle and followed Hal to a small table in one corner, walking very straight and very carefully. Gradually, the patrons relaxed, and the ordinary pub sounds began again.

  “What about Crystal” Luke demanded, sitting down. He refilled his glass, almost emptying the bourbon bottle.

  “I . . . what time did she say she’d be here?”

  “In an hour.”

  “Yes, but that was almost an hour ago. She should be here any time. You wouldn’t want to get into a brawl just before she gets here, would you?”

  “Why the hell not? Some of these limey bastards think they’re winnin’ the war.”

  “It’ll make an interesting mark on your record when you come up for promotion,” Hal said quietly.

  Luke blinked and rolled the idea around. The thought sobered him quickly. When that promotion came due, Luke wanted his record studded with shiny gold stars.

  “Okay,” he said. “The hell with ’em. We can win the war without ’em.” He took a pull from the bottle, forgetting about his full glass, and began to sing: “When I’m there, in the air, with my head in the cloud, I think of someone I looove.”

  He was beginning to wave the bottle when Crystal came in. She had changed to her Class A uniform, and in the smoky, nois
y room, she looked as clean and unreal as a recruiting poster.

  “Hi, baby doll,” Luke called. “I been waitin’ just like you said.”

  “So, I see. I’m glad I wasn’t any later.”

  “Me too.” Luke put the bottle down gently and slumped in his chair. His eyes were open but unfocused.

  Crystal looked at Luke, and her brow wrinkled in a slight frown. “How long have you been here?”

  “Only a couple of minutes. He was like this when I got here.”

  “We’d better get him out while he can still walk.”

  “Good idea,” Hal agreed.

  It took both to hoist Luke on his feet. They had to steer him out the door and up the stairs while the people in the pub watched silently. “If you can hold him,” Hal said, “I’ll go get the car.”

  Crystal looped Luke’s arm around her neck. “Go ahead.”

  Hal fished the ignition key from Luke’s pocket and trotted away. When he came back with the car, they helped Luke into the back seat, where he stretched out and immediately went to sleep.

  “I’ll take you back to your barracks,” Hal said.

  “No barracks. We’re privileged characters here. We have our own flats.”

  “Oh. How did you manage that?”

  He put the car in gear, and they started down the darkened street.

  “Turn right at the next corner,” she directed. “It isn’t far. They didn’t have any barracks close to the hospital, so they told us we could arrange for our own quarters.”

  Following her directions, Hal drove through the dreary streets for three more blocks, then pulled up in front of a two-story building that reminded him of the old brownstones on the West Side of New York. He cut the engine and went around to open the door for Crystal. She looked back at Luke. He was still sleeping; his lips parted in a breathy snore.

  “Maybe we should take him in and give him some coffee.”

  Hal shook his head. “Let him sleep. I’ll take him back to the base.”

  “How about yourself? Would you like some coffee?”

  Hal hesitated. The prospect of having coffee with Crystal was inviting. But what would Luke say when he found out? But who was going to tell him? “Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”