From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [425]
“I want the BAR men to report to the supplyroom right now and get their weapons and all the loaded clips they can find and go up on the roof. When you see a Jap plane, shoot at it. Dont worry about wasting ammo. Remember to take a big lead. Thats all. Get moving.
“The rest of you guys,” Warden said, as the BAR men moved away at a run. “The rest of you guys. The first thing. The main thing. Every platoon leader is responsible to me personally to see that all of his men stay inside, except the BAR men up on the roof. A rifleman’s about as much good against a low flying pursuit ship as a boy scout with a slingshot. And we’re going to need every man we can muster when we get down to beach positions. I dont want none of them wasted here, by runnin outside to shoot rifles at airplanes. Or by goin souvenir huntin. The men stay inside. Got it?”
There was a chorus of hurried vacant nods. Most of the heads were on one side, listening to the planes going over in ones and twos and three. It looked peculiar to see them all nodding on one side like that. Warden found himself wanting to laugh excitedly.
“The BARs will be up on the roof,” he said. “They can do all the shooting that we can supply ammo for. Anybody else will just be getting in the way.”
“What about my MGs, Milt?” Peter Karelsen asked him.
The easy coolness in old Pete’s voice shocked Warden to a full stop. Drunk or not, Pete seemed to be the only one who sounded relaxed, and Warden remembered his two years in France.
“Whatever you think, Pete,” he said.
“I’ll take one. They couldnt load belts fast enough to handle more than one. I’ll take Mikeovitch and Grenelli up with me to handle it.”
“Can you get the muzzle up high enough on those ground tripods?”
“We’ll put the tripod over a chimney,” Pete said. “And then hold her down by the legs.”
“Whatever you think, Pete,” Warden said, thinking momentarily how wonderful it was to be able to say that.
“Come on, you two,” Pete said, almost boredly, to his two section leaders. “We’ll take Grenelli’s because we worked on it last.”
“Remember,” Warden said to the rest of them as Pete left with his two machinegunners. “The men stay inside. I dont care how you handle it. Thats up to you. I’m going to be up on the roof with a BAR. If you want to get in on the fun, go yourself. Thats where I’m going to be. But make damn sure your men are going to stay inside, off the porches, before you go up.”
“Like hell!” Liddell Henderson said. “You aint goin to catch this Texan up on no roof. Ah’ll stay down with ma men.”
“Okay,” Warden said, jabbing a finger at him. “Then you are hereby placed in charge of the loading detail. Get ten or twelve men, as many as you can get in the supplyroom, and put them to loading BAR clips and MG belts. We’re going to need all the ammo we can get. Anybody else dont want to go up?”
“I’ll stay down with Liddell,” Champ Wilson said.
“Then you’re second-in-command of the loading detail,” Warden said. “All right, lets go. If anybody’s got a bottle laying around, bring it up with you. I’m bringing mine.”
When they got out to the porch, they found a knot of men arguing violently with S/Sgt Malleaux in front of the supply-room.
“I dont give a damn,” Malleaux said. “Thats my orders. I cant issue any live ammo without a signed order from an officer.”
“But there aint no goddamned officers, you jerk!” somebody protested angrily.
“Then there aint no live ammo,” Malleaux said.
“The officers may not get here till noon!”
“I’m sorry, fellows,” Malleaux said. “Thats my orders. Lt Ross give them to me himself. No signed order, no ammo.”
“What the fuckin hell is all this?” Warden said.
“He wont let us have any ammo, Top,” a man said.
“He’s got it locked up and the keys in his pocket,” another one said.
“Gimme them keys,” Warden said.
“Thats my orders, Sergeant,” Malleaux said, shaking his head. “I got to have a signed order from an officer before I can issue any live ammo to an enlisted man.”
Pete Karel