Page 31 of Semper Fi

“S peedy! Can we borrow your blanket?” Jim’s whisper was almost lost in the midnight downpour.

Speedy crawled over the tree roots. “Sure thing. It’s not doing me any good.”

Cal took the blanket and added it to his and Jim’s, already spread out over Sully.

Sully’s teeth chattered, and he murmured almost constantly, the fever and chills wracking his increasingly slight frame.

Cal gave Sully’s head a pat, wishing there was more they could do.

“There you go, pal. It’ll warm you right up. ”

Jim sighed. “How could they send him back to the line? At least in the aid station he could keep dry.”

“Said there was nothing else they could do for him,” Speedy whispered. “They needed the bed. I heard a couple boys from Dog Company got their legs blown off. Couldn’t move ’em out right away. Guess we’re lucky up here.”

The company was closer to the airfield now, on higher ground. “Poor bastards.” Cal laughed humorlessly. “At least they’re off this godforsaken island.”

Speedy kept his voice low. “Did you see some of the other guys in the platoon got nailed yesterday?”

“Yeah.” As more men died around them, Cal found himself creating a distance between the dead and the living in his mind. Once they were gone, he tried not to think of them at all.

Sully shook, coughing and writhing. Speedy whistled. “Pistol,” he hissed. “Pass over your blanket.”

“Won’t do him any fucking good,” Pete grumbled. But he still tossed over the sodden bundle of cloth.

Jim piled the blanket on top. Jim murmured to Sully, “The fever’ll break soon. You’ll be okay.” To Cal, he added, “He won’t get better out here. We’re a three-man mortar team. He could barely hold himself upright today, let alone the gun.”

Cal shrugged. “We’ll make do. He’s got both his legs. That’s something, I guess.”

Speedy piped up. “Remember when the rain used to actually stop sometimes?”

They all grumbled. Plopping down beside Jim in the muck, Cal fiddled with a ruined cigarette. Keeping their mortar rounds dry was the priority, and even tucked deep in his pack, cigarettes got soaked.

He ran a hand over his head, glad for his shorn hair. None of them wore their helmets when they didn’t have to because they felt more claustrophobic than ever. Now in mid-November the downpour was an unrelenting misery as rainy season was upon them.

“At least we’re on higher ground now. The river must be overflowing. Those crocs could be anywhere down there,” Speedy said. “They should move the galley tent.”

Cal smirked. “I don’t think the crocs want our wormy rice.”

“Corpsman says we should eat the worms. Good protein,” Jim noted.

“I wouldn’t listen to anything that son of a bitch has to say.”

Speedy snorted. “Aw, Hollywood. Don’t hold a grudge now. You know that ulcer was infected.”

“That may be, but I don’t want that rusty scalpel anywhere near my leg again.” Cal poked at his right shin, wincing.

Jim caught his hand and pulled it away. “Stop that. You’re going to make it worse. Talk all you like, but you sure don’t want flies hatching in your leg. The corpsman did you a favor.”

There was movement in the foliage, and they tensed as one, rifles at the ready. Then Big Joe’s low voice drawled, “Looky what we found.” He appeared with Buster and Smith. “Killed all those slit-eyed fuckers yesterday and now we’re gonna drink their hooch.”

Pete shot to his feet, more animated than Cal had seen him since New River. “That’s a fucking beautiful sight.”

Cradling an enormous bottle in his arms, Joe struggled to sit. They all formed a circle and passed around the container of sake. It was so big they could barely lift it, and they laughed as they took turns slurping from the bottle. The wine was too warm, but Cal didn’t care, gulping it greedily.

Grimacing, Jim drank, and after a while he swayed slightly, nudging Cal’s shoulder, clumsy with the bottle. Buster’s laughter rumbled. “Johnny, you’d better stop. If those Nips come tonight we need your level head on straight or we’re fucked.”

Jim scoffed, slurring slightly. “Me? Nah.”

“To Johnny!” Speedy heaved up the bottle and tipped the wine down his throat before passing it on.

They drank a few more rounds, and Jim leaned heavier onto Cal. Cal’s head spun. “Time to hit the hay.”

He tugged Jim away from the circle, back to where Sully still shivered in the grip of his fever in the shallow trench.

They settled in nearby, Jim pliable in Cal’s arms as Cal arranged them on their sides, spooning up behind Jim’s back the way they had those freezing nights out on the rifle range at Parris Island.

Cal was parched, and he gulped water from his canteen before pressing it into Jim’s hand. “Drink or we’re going to have a hell of a headache. That sake’s drier than my father’s favorite vermouth.”

Jim swallowed obediently before settling back down, squirming closer to Cal.

They’d dug the slit trench with a makeshift drain on the downhill side, and the water poured over them, but at least they weren’t swimming in it.

Of course they were still swimming in mud, and Cal wasn’t sure which was worse.

But one thing was wonderful, and that was Jim, warm and lean and pressing against him. Cal pillowed Jim’s head with his arm, Jim murmuring and drunker than Cal had ever seen him. He could feel Jim’s lips moving against the skin of his forearm, and Cal imagined those lips on his own. On his body.

Of course this was an exceedingly dangerous train of thought, and Cal’s prick twitched.

God, how he wanted to roll Jim onto his back and kiss him until they were breathless, hard and wanting, hips thrusting together. They’d sink into the mud and no one would find them. They could stay there forever, bodies entwined.

“Cal?”

“Hmm?”

“If I don’t make it off this island, you need to do something for me.”

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

Jim gripped Cal’s wrist. “I mean it. Promise.”

“Okay. What’s on your mind?”

“I told my little girl I’d get her a horse. Had to sell ours a few years back when things were tight. I swore when I got home she’d have one.”

“Sure. But you’ll be able to get her that horse yourself. You’re going to go home to your family safe and sound. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jim exhaled audibly, his breath hot against Cal’s forearm. “You’re the best buddy a guy could have.”

“You should get drunk more often. It’s good for my ego.” Cal resisted the urge to press a kiss to Jim’s head.

After mumbling something Cal couldn’t make out, Jim went quiet. Just when Cal thought he’d gone to sleep, he spoke again.

“She won’t even know me.”

“Of course she will.”

“We could be out here for years. If not Guadalcanal, then some other island. We could die tomorrow. Tonight. I might never see her again. Even if I do, she’ll be so big.”

“You’re her daddy. Nothing’s going to change that. I promise.” Cal murmured reassurances as the rain fell, his lips close to Jim’s ear long after Jim snored softly.

1948

As Cal eked out the detail on the last of the dollhouse’s shutters, he leaned closer to the lantern. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he hadn’t bothered to put on even an undershirt over his jeans in the sultry evening. He’d considered coming out in just his boxers.

The pickup rattled in the distance, and Finnigan barked happily when Jim returned to the barn. Cal chuckled. “He missed you. But I fed him a few treats, so he didn’t miss you too much.”

Finnigan barked as if in agreement, and Jim scratched behind his ears. “So fickle, eh boy?”

“In his defense, I do give out delicious treats.” Cal carved the small block of wood carefully. “Everything okay at the O’Briens’?”

“Yeah. I managed to help Mrs. O’Brien talk Gerald into going to the hospital. Doctors make the worst patients.”

“Is it serious?”

“No, the cut only needs a few stitches, but he insisted he’d do them himself, left-handed. Put up a fuss about driving himself in, because he’s not a damn invalid .”

Cal chuckled. “I’m sure Mrs. O’Brien appreciated your help.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Jim gave Finnigan a final pat and stood before peeling his shirts over his head to bare his chest. “Hot one. At least the kids should be cooler in the mountains.”

“I’m sorry, were you saying something?” Cal leered.

Jim rolled his eyes, although he still blushed. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.” He came over to the worktable and kissed Cal lightly before running his fingertips over the gabled roof of the dollhouse. “And wow, this is looking great, Cal. She’s going to love it. You’re a born carpenter.”

“Thanks. At least I’m a born something. Nice not to be completely useless.”

Jim frowned. “You could never be useless.”

“I think my father would disagree with you there.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

He picked up the block of wood again. “What?”

“You know exactly what. Run yourself down. You’ve never been useless since I’ve known you.” Jim stepped close and kissed him softly. “You’re worth more than you could ever know.”

Cal kissed him back and tossed the wood aside. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Jim nipped at his lips and splayed his hand on Cal’s back. “Did you miss me too?”

Shaking his head, Cal couldn’t quite keep a straight face. “Nope. Not a bit. Pretty sick of you now. A man can only fuck so much.”

Jim fought a grin. “That’s strange—I haven’t heard you complain once this weekend.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

In a blink, Jim snatched up Cal’s carving tool. “Not without this.” He grinned, and the chase was on.

Finnigan’s barks mixed with their laughter as they raced through the barn, Jim ducking and weaving and staying just an inch out of Cal’s grasp. Jim made it to the loft ladder and clambered up, Cal hot on his heels. At the top Cal dove and toppled Jim into the hay with a triumphant yell.