On Valor's Side by T. Grady Gallant

Author:T. Grady Gallant [Gallant, T. Grady]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Military, United States, Europe, General, Germany, Asia, Japan
ISBN: 9781787207226
Google: TfkwDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Pickle Partners Publishing
Published: 2017-07-19T15:57:08+00:00

The John Ericsson, true to the other equipment we had, stumbled through the sea and gave every indication she would not make land. On one occasion, her engines gave out entirely. We came to a lumbering halt in the middle of the Pacific, a sitting duck for subs. Our convoy dwindled away over the horizon. We were alone. It was a very deserted feeling.

“Is it sinking?” Pfc Harry Gilberts inquired. He was stretched out on deck, his head cushioned by a cork life belt.

“Naw, just stopped,” Bellflower answered. He was half asleep against a bulkhead. He yawned.

Trenton, who had been to the ship’s store to buy canned lemon drops, canned peanuts, and some cigarettes, appeared carrying his purchases. “That line was awful. It wound all over the ship...I’ve been there all morning.”

“You always say that on your day. You are the liaison corporal; you should show your commission and barge on through.” He sat down and handed me a can of lemon drops. We had been living on peanuts and lemon drops because of the ship’s food. It was genuine slop, and we could seldom eat it. For breakfast we had been served pork and beans, coffee, rancid butter and white bread. Lunch had been soup and tea. Dinner the night before had been cabbage, ham, hardtack, tea, and potatoes. None of it had been fit to eat. The tea was weak. Lunch the day before had been one slice of bread, a can of sardines without an opener and a cup of coffee. The meals weren’t worth the struggle to get them, though we usually went to see what they had.

“What’s the word about our halt on the high seas?” I asked Trenton, who was pretty good at getting rumors as soon as they were born.

“Something wrong with the driveshaft, or something like that. The poop is that a German agent tried to mess it up, but the FBI was on to him and nabbed him down in the hole.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Gilberts asked in a voice filled with doubt.

“It’s not a matter of belief...it’s scuttlebutt.”

“They must not have nabbed him soon enough,” I said. “We are now a floating target for the German and Japanese Navies...and also the Italian Navy, too, if there is one.”

Gilberts digested this. He was a carelessly put together specimen; long, thin, and disorganized-looking. He had very pale and scraggly eyebrows. “I’m not worried about the Japs,” he assured us. “They can’t see good. I ask you, have you ever seen one without glasses?”

“No.” It was true. I had never seen a picture of one without glasses. I had never seen a living slopehead, but I had seen many pictures of them. They all wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

“I haven’t, either. They are squint-eyed and buck-toothed...and bow-legged...and...”

“Their teeth have nothin’ to do with this situation, Gilberts,” Trenton interrupted.

“They will, if they put the bite on us out here,” I said.

“Our little fantail is hanging out bare,” Gilberts agreed.

Trenton offered an open can of peanuts.

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