The Secret Weapon by J.E. Macdonnell

Author:J.E. Macdonnell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: world war ii fiction, jg ballard, naval warfare, joseph heller, ken follett, herman wouk, royal australian navy, piccadilly pubishing, world war ii navy
Publisher: Piccadilly

“It might be that moon,” said Petty Officer Gellatly, “but this seems the night, and the place, for a real ding-bash party.”

They walked a few steps up from the pier towards the darkened duster of buildings ahead, and the coxswain growled:

“There ain’t no dames here, Romeo, so keep your mind above your belt All you’ll find is bloody Yanks, and seagulls. I wonder what the birds think?”

“Now listen, Herb,” Hooky warned in his deep voice, “we come off for a few beers, and then back to bed. This is a Yank island, so leave it at that. It’s their beer we’ll be drinking—and glad to get a lick at it.”

“Who’re you kidding?” the coxswain sneered. “You think these blokes is gonna give it to you? You’ll pay for what you get, so there’s no obligation. You don’t feel obliged to Jessie the Bull when you hand over cash for her slops, do yer?”

“All good pals, and jolly good company,” Gellatly sang. “Oh, yeah ...!”

They walked on. The night was balmy, its residual heat tempered by a slight breeze blowing in over the shape-cluttered harbour from the wide, cool Pacific. Above them, splashing pools of black shadow from rustling palm trees, the moon hung in a starless sky, huge and yellow and benign.

“A man shoulda left you behind,” Hooky growled, staring down at his little friend. “Always the trouble with you pint-size battlers—always lookin’ for fight.”

“You’re worried?” the coxswain came back at him. “Ever had to help me out of a stoush yet, you big lump of mullick?”

Hooky grinned. It was true. Smales in his small, cobra-like way had proved more than twice he could handle himself all right. The big fellow eased the grin off.

“That’s not the point. We’re not looking for a fight here.”

“Who the hell is? You think I’m a jack-me-hearty?”

“No …” Hooky admitted slowly, “except that you been having a hate session on these Yanks for the past two days.”

He threw back his head suddenly, and filled his great chest with the warm scented air of the island.

“Ah bastards,” he said, “you can take on the whole ruddy U.S. Navy if you like. I’m ashore to sink a few jugs of suds. You do what you like, Joe Louis.”

“Thanks, Grandpa,” the little man grinned, “but I reckon these boys’ll be too busy fightin’ the Japs—in the bar—to worry about us.”

“Us? You mean you,” Gellatly told him sourly. “We don’t aim to get tangled up with anything you start, buster—you’re on your own.”

“I always was with you two dingoes,” the coxswain answered, matching his friend’s sourness. “But, like I said, I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble.”

They walked on, wrangling amicably with insulting words, until they came up to the door of a blacked-out hut, from inside which came the sounds of men enjoying themselves. Hooky hooked back the black-out curtain, and a wave of heated air and smoke and noise beat into their ready faces. They stepped inside.

“This is something like it,” Hooky grinned as they made their way to the long makeshift bar against one end of the long room.

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