by Max Shulman
“Yeh!” said Private Roger Litwhiler. “Let’s go get some. What do you say, Opie?”
But Opie, whose eyes were just as covetous as his comrades’, and twice as astute, had seen that the situation was not hopeful. “Frinds,” he said, “it ain’t no use. We’re givin’ away too much weight.”
“Do you mean those punks in the black leather jackets?” said Private Ernest J. Hoffman contemptuously.
“They’re punks shore enough,” allowed Opie. “But where’s yore black leather jacket?”
“Ah,” said the men, the sad truth emerging.
“Trouble is,” said Opie, “we all look like somebody’s little brother.”
“I’ll bet we’d get that poon easy if we had our uniforms on!” said Private Gustave Morrissette.
“Frind, that’s zackly what Ah’m thankin’,” said Opie. “So Ah’ll tell you what we’re goin’ to do: We’re goin’ back to the base and put on our uniforms and our shiny-bright high-top boots. We are also puttin’ on our jingly Marksman medals. Then we are comin’ back here, all creased and shorp and jingly, and we are goin’ to march in, walkin’ tall, and we are goin’ to buzz through that poon like seven year locusts through yella bantam corn!”
“Hurrah!” shouted the men, hope coloring their sturdy young heads.
“But Lieutenant di Maggio said we had to wear civvies,” said Private William O. Wambess.
“Ah am goin’ to straighten him out,” said Opie. “Y’all wait right here.”
Opie went to look for Guido di Maggio, who was standing near the front of the room nervously trying to soothe Walker Hoxie’s savage breast. “You’ll love these Putnam’s Landing folks!” Guido was saying earnestly. “You’ll be crazy about ’em once you meet ’em.”
“All right, all right,” said Walker impatiently. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Yes, sir,” said Guido. He cast his eye around the room, looking for some especially winsome personalities to captivate Walker. He spotted a hale fellow named Jerry Tupper, a Broadway director by profession, who was widely acknowledged to have one of the most fetching characters on the Eastern Seaboard. He walked over to Mr. Tupper, took his arms, and brought him back to Walker.
“Sir,” he said, “I’d like you to meet one of our leading citizens, the famous director, Jerry Tupper.”
“Well, well, well, this is a real pleasure!” said Mr. Tupper, giving Walker a manly handshake and a smile that would melt a stone. Guido smiled too, certain that Mr. Tupper could not but win the heart of Captain Hoxie, and he went off to find more charmers.
“How long have you been in the Army, sir?” asked Mr. Tupper.
“Twenty-two years,” replied Walker.
“And still a captain?” asked Mr. Tupper incredulously.
“That’s right,” said Walker.
“Well,” said Mr. Tupper, chuckling and draping an affectionate arm around Walker’s neck, “you must be a bigger goof-up than I was! Hell, I was the sorriest excuse for a soldier that ever put on a uniform, and I made lieutenant colonel in sixteen months!”
“Oh?” said Walker.
“I was in the last one,” explained Mr. Tupper. “Signal Corps Motion Picture Unit out in Long Island—‘Funland,’ we called it. What a war we had! Reveille in the Stork Club—chambermaids in the barracks—a weekly shuttle to Hollywood! Man, I never drew a sober breath! They had me working on a movie called ‘Care of the M-1 Rifle.’ Catchy title, huh? Well, I worked on that little opus for two years, and I bet I spent more money than de Mille ever heard of. Never did finish it, either … I swear I never had it so good!”
“Heh-heh,” said Walker.
“You got it made, Walker,” said Mr. Tupper, tousling the Captain’s hair. “You got the right idea, boy: stay on the government tit. Why not? Three squares and a flop, nothing to do, free medical care, free trips, plenty of time off, and a pension when you’re ready to hang up the gloves! Why go out in the world where you have to produce? You’re smart, kid: stick with your Uncle Sugar!”
“Uh-huh,” said Walker.
“Let’s get together and shoot the breeze sometime,” said Mr. Tupper. “I got a story that’ll kill you—about the time the General showed up for inspection and found the Copa line shacked up in the BOQ!”
“Nice to have met you,” said Walker, and as Mr. Tupper was giving him a final handshake, Guido came back with another merry-Andrew to enchant the Captain.
“Sir,” said Guido, “I’d like you to meet Mr. Arthur Waterford.”
“I have been looking forward to this meeting with keen anticipation, sir,” said Mr. Waterford, giving Walker a warm handclasp and a smile bright with bonhomie. Guido, feeling better by the minute, went off to find yet another endearing personage.
“How long have you been in the Army, Captain?” asked Mr. Waterford.
“Twenty-two years,” said Walker.
“Too lazy to steal?” asked Mr. Waterford, giving a guffaw and thumping Walker jovially on the back.
“Heh-heh,” said Walker.
“Only kidding,” said Mr. Waterford, linking his arm amicably in Walker’s. “The Army’s a marvelous outfit. Simply marvelous!”
“I appreciate that,” said Walker.
“But, of course, a man doesn’t want to spend his whole life in it, now does he?”
“Doesn’t he?” said Walker.
“Of course not!” said Mr. Waterford firmly. “Man’s got to have a little ambition too. Now, I happen to be in the electronics game. Fellow like you, with all your Nike experience, we’d be willing to start you at a mighty attractive salary.”
“I don’t think so, thank you,” said Walker.
“Inside of two, three years, you’d be making twenty thousand,” said Mr. Waterford. “And then, who knows? Money’s no object in the electronics game. What the hell! The government pays the freight!”
“I don’t think so, thank you,” said Walker again.
“You mull it over,” said Mr. Waterford. “If it’s your pension you’re worried about, we’ve got a plan that makes the Army’s look pretty puny. Call me sometime and we’ll have a good chin. I’m in the book. Arthur Waterford.”
“I’ll do that,” said Walker.
“Meanwhile,” said Mr. Waterford, “if you want to pick up a few bob, keep your eye peeled for promising youngsters in your battery. You send us a few talented kids, we’ll make it worth your while.”
“That’s very kind,” said Walker and shook Mr. Waterford’s hand, and Guido came walking up with a large, animated lady.
“Sir,” said Guido, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Laura Beauchamp.”
“Delighted!” said Laura, mashing the Captain’s knuckles. “I must confess, Captain, that at first I was appalled at the notion of quartering soldiers in Putnam’s Landing. You know how quickly the military can de-class a town. Look at Newport.”
“Uh-huh,” said Walker.
“But I have quite changed my mind,” continued Laura. “I regard you now as nothing less than a godsend!”
“That’s nice,” said Walker.
“I was at my wit’s end,” admitted Laura, “until Lieutenant di Maggio generously offered me fifty boys.”
“It was nothing,” said Guido modestly.
“Fifty boys for what?” asked Walker.
“The folk drama,” said Laura. “Surely you know about the folk drama?”
“I’ve been busy,” said Walker.
“Well,” said Laura, “in 1778 the British tried a landing here on Ram’s Head Beach and were repulsed by the Minutemen. Next Fourth of July we are going to re-enact that battle right on the very spot! The local high school boys will play the Minutemen, and your boys will play the Redcoats.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Walker. “My troops are going to fight against the Americans?”
“Yes,” said Laura.
“I see,” said Walker.
“Next fall I may try Thermopylae,” said Laura. “I’ll let you know.”
>
“Nice to have met you,” said Walker.
“Very talented lady,” said Guido to the Captain when Laura had moved on.
“Uh-huh,” said Walker.
“This town is full of bright people,” said Guido. “And the wonderful thing is how friendly they are. Don’t you think so, sir?”
“Princes,” said Walker. “The lot of ’em.”
“I’ll go bring you some more,” said Guido and made another sortie into the crowd. But before he could select his next offering, Corporal Opie Dalrymple caught him by the sleeve.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Opie, “but Ah got to tell you somethin’. Me and the boys are goin’ back to the base and git rid of these here clothes and put on our uniforms.”
“But you can’t!” cried Guido. “I ordered you to wear civvies.”
“No, sir,” said Opie. “You didn’t order. What you did was you suggested. Army regulations says plain as day that the Army got to clothe the troops from their underdrawers to their overcoats, so Ah don’t guess ennabody can order a sojer to wear ennathang the Army didn’t issue to him.”
“Oh,” said Guido.
“The boys set a great deal of store by you, sir,” said Opie, “and we’d shore admire to do like you suggested, but, sir, we’d jest feel a whole lot better in our uniforms.”
“Oh, well, I guess it won’t do any harm,” said Guido.
“Thank you, sir,” said Opie. “We’ll be back right soon.”
Opie left, and Guido continued his search for more entrancing citizens to delight Walker Hoxie. He came across Grace Bannerman. “Mrs. Bannerman,” he said, “I’d like to have you meet Captain Hoxie.”
“I’d love to, Lieutenant,” replied Grace, “but not right now. I’m looking for Betty O’Sheel. You haven’t seen her by any chance have—Oh, there she is! Excuse me, Lieutenant.”
Grace rushed over to Betty O’Sheel, who was leading a procession of pink, puffing ladies, each bearing a large carton of food. “Betty, you’re hours late!” cried Grace. “Where in the world have you been?”
“Well, if you want to know,” replied Betty with considerable heat, “I’ve been on the phone with Mr. Emil Wetkus.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Emil Wetkus, president of the Garba-Crunch Corporation,” replied Betty, glaring at Grace, “who called to say that he must have a decision soon from Putnam’s Landing because the Garba-Crunch Corporation is besieged with orders from forward looking communities the length and breadth of the land!”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” groaned Grace.
“Well, I happen to think sanitary garbage disposal is important, even if other people tend to forget it,” declared Betty, her lip trembling.
“All right, dear. All right, all right,” said Grace, giving Betty a flurry of placating pats. “Now, come on, girls, let’s get set up.”
Grace led the ladies to a long trestle table in the rear of the room and proceeded to deploy them. “Frankfurters, right here … Buns, over here …
Potato chips, over here … Pickles and mustard—” Grace paused and looked around with a frown. “Who’s got the pickles and mustard?” she asked.
“Gee, I don’t know,” said Betty.
“Well, who’s your Relish Chairman?” asked Grace.
“It was Margie Klein,” answered Betty, “but her water broke.”
“Didn’t you appoint another one?” asked Grace, fighting to keep her sanity.
“I forgot,” mumbled Betty.
“Oh, Betty, really!”
“Well, you’d forget things too if Mr. Wetkus kept calling you all the time,” said Betty defensively.
Grace counted ten. “All right,” she sighed, “who’ll run out and pick up some pickles and mustard?”
“I will, dear,” said Harry Bannerman, appearing suddenly at Grace’s side with Angela Hoffa not ten feet behind him.
“Oh, thank you, sweetie,” said Grace. “Go to Sammy’s Delicatessen. He’ll know what to give you. And hurry back!”
“Yes, dear,” said Harry.
He made a quick start, took five steps, and found Angela standing squarely across his path.
“Got you!” she said triumphantly.
“Hi, Angela,” said Harry, looking frantically for an escape route. “I’ve got to go for pickles and mustard.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
“No, no, no, no, no!” he cried.
“All right, boy, relax!” she said soothingly. “And quit running, will you? This thing is getting too ridiculous. What are we—Laurel and Hardy or something?”
“Angela, they need the pickles right away.”
“Oh, stop this nonsense! We’re big kids now. We don’t run. We discuss.”
“Angela, not now!”
“Okay. When?”
“I don’t know. Soon. I’ll call you.”
“Don’t wait too long, will you, darling?” said Angela sweetly. “A girl gets lonely all by herself at the end of a burned bridge.”
She gave him a brave, wry smile, turned, and left.
“Oh, God!” whimpered Harry and took his guilt-flattened psyche to Sammy’s Delicatessen for pickles and mustard.
The ladies, whipped into a froth of activity by Grace, had lunch all ready when Harry returned. “Attention, everybody!” called Grace, clapping her hands sharply. “Attention, please! Luncheon is now being served.”
Led by Manning Thaw, the crowd fell to ingesting hot dogs with many a laugh and cheer. But in the midst of the noisy repast, suddenly everyone was still, for into the chamber marched a platoon of uniformed soldiers, walking tall, looking so trim and military, so staunch and manly, so keen, alert, fine-honed, and capable, that not a breast in the vast and varied throng remained unstirred.
Especially the breasts of the maidens of the town. They saw in a flash of truth that these soldier boys were not, as they had first thought, dullsville; they were, indeed, sharpsville; and as the troop wheeled in their direction, clearly intent on establishing a beach-head, they tingled with anticipation, every mother’s daughter.
Leading the wave, Corporal Opie Dalrymple deftly outflanked Grady Metcalf and his black jacketed irregulars and drew up in front of the girls. “Howdy, ladies,” he said. “Ah and muh men would be proud to he’p you to some refreshments.”
“A Southern accent!” cried Comfort Goodpasture, clapping her hands in glee. “Man, I go ape when I hear a Southern accent!”
“Ah’m glad,” said Opie, offering her his arm and leading her to the refreshment table.
Behind him came the other G.I.s, each with a local belle in tow, and back in a corner stood Grady Metcalf and his cohorts, glowering villainously and wishing they were outside so they could spit.
“What can Ah get you, Miss?” said Opie to Comfort.
“Just a couple of hot dogs,” she answered. “I already ate.”
He fetched her a snack and something a bit more substantial for himself.
“How do you like Putnam’s Landing?” asked Comfort.
“It’s a right nice town,” he said. “But of course,” he added with a mournful sigh, “she ain’t here.”
“She?”
“Muh girl back home.”
“Oh,” said Comfort respectfully.
Opie sighed some more.
“How long since you’ve seen her?” asked Comfort.
“Months.”
“How long till you see her again?”
“Months.”
“She might not even be yours any more,” said Comfort hopefully.
“True,” sighed Opie.
“You poor thing,” said Comfort, remembering her manners.
“Well, Ah s’pose Ah am,” said Opie, breaking into a sudden smile. “But somehow around you, Ah cain’t feel too blue. What Ah mean, Miss, you melt muh troubles like the summer sun burns off a mornin’ mist.”
“Oh, that’s crazy!” exclaimed Comfort, full of admiration. “I mean’s it’s real poetry. It’s like I
got a girl friend named Gloria Coleman, she wrote a poem once to Elvis Presley which I sent him.”
“Elvis musta thoroughly enjoyed that,” said Opie. “He told me many a time how much a good pome tickled him.”
Comfort’s eyes widened wildly. “Do you know Elvis?” she asked in an awed whisper.
“Not as well as Ah’d like to,” replied Opie. “Trouble is, we was always playin’ different towns.”
“You,” she said weakly, hanging on to his sleeve, “are in show business?”
“Ah’m a stor,” he said simply.
“Oh, this is too much,” cried Comfort, flinging up her arms in a transport of ecstasy. “This is the endsville!”
“Hey,” said Grady Metcalf, appearing behind Comfort and tapping her on the shoulder, “I gotta talk to you.”
“Oh, flake off!” said Comfort impatiently.
“Come on, hey,” said Grady, taking her arm. “You and I got a little question you’re gonna answer today. Remember?”
“Go away, little man!” said Comfort, yanking loose. “Shoo!”
“All right, hey. Let’s just can the comedy and come on, huh?” said Grady.
“Frind,” said Opie pleasantly, “Ah don’t believe the young lady wants to go with you.”
“What’s it to you, Army?” snarled Grady.
“Now why don’t you jest be a good fella and flake off?” said Opie.
“Yeah?” said Grady.
“Yeah,” said Opie.
A group of black jackets came drifting up behind Grady. “Yeah?” said Grady, more strongly this time.
“Yeah,” said Opie as several soldiers gathered quietly behind him.
Grady looked at Opie’s hard, watchful face. He looked at the soldiers standing in back of him, silent and ready. He turned to his own minions and saw their eyes wavering, their foreheads starting to bead. He wheeled and walked away, his colleagues dragging along behind.
The New Delinquents stopped on the other side of the room and formed a bitter caucus. “If them guys think they can come waltzin’ into this town and grab off our broads, they got another think comin’,” said Grady menacingly.
“You damn right!” said Charlie and Wally and Ed and Fred.
