Page 9 of Semper Fi

“H it the deck and give me fifty!”

The recruits scrambled, heavy packs and rifles cumbersome as they dropped to the ground and started push-ups that Tyrell counted off. Cal had learned that in the Marines, the surface on which you were standing was “the deck,” whether it was wood, tile, grass or dirt.

In this case, the deck was a muddy expanse of field on the way to the rifle range.

They’d been marching for miles and this was the third time they’d been ordered to do push-ups.

Cal’s muscles protested, burning hotly as he heaved himself up and down.

At forty-one, he saw Jim’s hand slip on the mucky ground from the corner of his eye.

Tyrell pounced immediately, veins bulging in his neck as he loomed over Jim, screaming. “Did I say you could stop? You wanna nap, recruit?”

“No, sir,” Jim ground out as he got his arm beneath him again and pressed up.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you! I’ll give you a nap!” Without warning, Tyrell’s boot clomped down on Jim’s back, shoving him to the ground. “Did I tell y’all to stop? Sound off!”

His blood boiling, the adrenaline got Cal through the rest of the push-ups. Jim struggled through them with the added weight of Tyrell’s boot, his arms shaking. Cal bit his tongue, glaring up at Tyrell and quite sure he’d never hated anyone else this much in his life.

When they reached fifty, the men staggered to their feet. Cal kept his eyes on the helmet of the man in front of him, but a moment later felt Tyrell’s stale breath on his cheek. “Got something to say, recruit?”

As he took a breath before giving the required response, another thought flickered through Cal’s mind and barged out of his mouth. “Yes, sir.”

The tension hung thick in the moist winter air. Tyrell stood still as a statue. “Don’t keep us waiting, recruit.”

“Permission to do another fifty, sir.”

For a delicious moment, DI Tyrell was speechless.

Then, nostrils flaring, he screamed, “What are you waiting for, Cunningham? Hit the deck!”

As he pumped out the push-ups, Cal felt strangely light, a second wind giving him energy. The other recruits counted out the repetitions, hiding their smiles, while Tyrell could do nothing but watch.

When Cal was finished, he hopped to his feet and saluted Tyrell with a sharp snap of his wrist.

Tyrell pivoted on his heel. “Forrward march!”

Jim gave him a quick smile before whispering, “You know he’ll make you pay for that.”

Shrugging, Cal winked before turning his eyes front. One more black mark wouldn’t kill him. He marched on, savoring his tiny victory.

The rifle range was a flat, rather barren area of grass and sand dunes beyond a small woodland. To Cal, it felt even more desolate than the rest of Parris Island, and that was saying something.

Along with a handful of one- and two-story buildings, tents were set up row upon row.

Their sea bags, top-loading canvas sacks that closed with a drawstring, waited for them.

Considering how cold and wet they were liable to get during the time they’d spend at the range, Cal was relieved to have some extra gear.

He was doubly relieved that he and Jim had been assigned to the same six-man tent, thankful that “Bennett” and “Cunningham” were close to each other in an alphabetical list of the platoon.

Leading the way, he pushed back the flap of their tent and stooped to enter.

The sun was setting, and in the gloom he squinted.

“I thought tents were supposed to have floors.”

Jim ducked in behind him, shoulders hunched, neither of them quite able to stand upright even in the center. “I guess it depends on the tent.”

“Think I should ask Tyrell for another?”

A recruit followed them in, chuckling. “I’d pay you to ask the son of a bitch. Of course, he’d make you sleep outside for the next two weeks.”

“I have a bad feeling that this tent and ‘outside’ are not as far removed as we’d like them to be, boys.” Cal dropped his sea bag on one side of the tent, his shoulders sighing in relief as he slipped the pack off his back as well.

Jim dropped his stuff beside Cal’s, and the rest of the men marked their space.

Not that there was much to go around. Soon they were called to the mess hall for chow, which they gobbled down.

It was the same old slop, and Cal forbid himself to imagine what gourmet delicacies his parents and sister were eating at home.

In the tent at the end of the evening, Cal tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the cold earth, spreading his rain poncho beneath him. “At least today we actually marched somewhere. Although I can’t help but feel that we took the long way around this island.”

Jim snorted. “Yeah, I got that feeling too. But it’ll be nice to actually use our rifles instead of just lugging them around, so I’m glad we’re here.”

Heads cushioned by their sea bags, Cal, Jim, and the others settled in, rough blankets pulled up tightly to their chins. Despite his discomfort, Cal quickly dropped off into a deep sleep.

It was likely a couple of hours later when he woke, shivering from head to toe in the bitter cold. When the sun shone in South Carolina, even in the winter it never got too chilly. But under gray skies and rain, it could be a different story .

The cold leeched up from the ground, taking away every ounce of body heat and leaving Cal rigid, curled into the fetal position with knees to chest. In the darkness, he could hear Jim’s teeth chattering.

Inching closer, Cal gritted his own teeth. “Christ, I thought the south was supposed to be warm.”

Shuddering, Jim whispered back over his shoulder. “Feels colder than the barn in the dead of winter when I’m up early milking the cow. I’d have some gloves and a hat on, that’s for sure. These uniforms don’t quite cut it.”

“Not quite.” Cal shimmied closer. “Maybe we can share our blankets. Two’s better than one.”

In the murk, he could make out Jim’s nod, and they edged toward each other, spreading their blankets. A warning bell sounded in Cal’s mind as he pressed against Jim’s back. Even through the layers of their uniforms and jackets, Cal already felt ten degrees warmer inside and out.

His mouth was inches from the back of Jim’s neck, his senses filled with his friend’s scent.

The urge to close the final gap between them and press his lips to Jim’s fair skin was overwhelming.

The other recruits were shivering together in their corners of the tent, and in the dark, shapes had to be close to even be visible. No one would see.

It had been a happy circumstance that Cal had stumbled into Jim on the train, and with each passing day, he’d dreaded the end of boot camp and their likely separation. Who knew where they’d end up? Odds were one or both of them would die on the other side of the world.

At the thought of Jim cut down, Cal reflexively drew him closer, throwing his arm over Jim’s waist. He waited for a protest, but Jim made no sound or movement.

Spooned up behind him, desire heated Cal’s veins, and he clenched his jaw, willing his body not to react.

He didn’t think Jim would take kindly to an erection nudging against him.

Soon Jim breathed deeply and evenly, and Cal allowed himself to creep just a bit closer before he faded away.

Reveille blared all too soon, as unwelcome as ever, but even more so because he wanted to stay curled up with Jim all day. But Jim scooted to his feet, instantly awake in a way Cal envied. Jim reached down. “Come on—up and at ’em.”

Cal took his hand, and they were off.

1948

The smell of bacon cooking was always extremely welcome first thing in the morning, and Cal found himself bounding out of bed. He threw on his dungarees and navy work shirt, whistling to himself as he went downstairs.

Adam sat on the floor in the middle of the kitchen, his toy soldiers hard at battle. He glanced up and did a double take, grinning happily. “Hi!”

“Hey, buddy.” Cal crouched and ruffled Adam’s hair before joining Jim by the stove. “I don’t think he quite grasps that I’m living here now. Still seems surprised to see me every morning.”

Jim laughed softly. “Yeah, it takes a while to sink in sometimes. It’s only been a week.

He’ll probably get it in a few days.” He cracked an egg into the frying pan, where five eggs already sizzled in a layer of grease next to the bacon.

“Sophie’s in the barn milking Mabel. Why don’t you give her a hand? ”

“Ah, speaking of someone who is all too aware that I live here now.” Cal poured himself a mug of coffee. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Things aren’t going to change if you two avoid each other all the time.”

“I’m not avoiding her!” Cal winced internally at his own defensiveness. Of course I’m avoiding her. “Come on, Jim. What the heck do I know about milking a cow? I’ll break the damn thing.”

Jim’s lips twitched. “You’d have to try pretty hard to break a cow.”

“Oh, I think I could do it. Farm animals and I are best left to our own devices. ”

“Sophie’s never going to get to know you if you don’t talk to her. I know she’s been very rude, and I understand if you’re upset with her, but—”

“Upset with her?” Cal interrupted. “No, no. I’m not holding a grudge against an eight-year-old. I just don’t want to pressure her.”

“Okay.” Jim flipped the eggs over awkwardly with a spatula, seemingly resigned.

With a sigh, Cal gulped down the rest of his coffee. “What the hell. Might as well give it a shot.”

Jim’s face lit up. “Thanks. I just want you two to be friends.”

The sun peeked over the horizon as Cal made his way to the barn. A couple of deer froze in their tracks at his approach before loping away. Normally Cal stopped and marveled at the wildlife, but this morning he was too busy giving himself a pep talk.

She’s a kid. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve faced scores of bloodthirsty enemy soldiers happily willing to die if it meant killing you. You can handle one little girl.