Free Battle Cry by Leon Uris Page A

thing. I’m glad I landed with you.”
    They stepped back from the sinks, and then put final touches on an overlooked speck or spot before they turned and faced the urinals. Danny cast a leer in the direction of O’Hearne. “We could get through a lot quicker if you turned to.”
    “Below my stature,” Shannon answered.
    Norton tugged Forrester away from any further argument. Danny calmed and returned to work.
    “What about this boot camp, professor? It’s over my head.”
    “It seems we’ve joined an exclusive club and we aren’t going to get our membership card till we’ve served the initiation.”
    “You make it sound simple.”
    “Not that simple. I suppose the Marines are all they’re cracked up to be. This gives us a common bond, very democratic.”
    “Democratic?”
    “Maybe that’s a bad word. What I suggest is that we’re all the same here.” He plunged the long-handled brush into a urinal.
    “I see what you mean.”
    “According to the book every Marine is basically a rifleman. That is the basic difference with the other services.”
    “What about all this damned drill. We haven’t seen a rifle yet.”
    “A divorce from civilian life. The first thing is to let you know that you are a part of a group and that the group moves together. Discipline, immediate reaction to command. Very good psychology.”
    “It might be good, but I sure wish it was over.”
    “Me too.”
    They went about their work finishing up the urinals. Then Danny arose and walked to O’Hearne and dropped the bucket and brushes at his feet. “I saved the toilets for you.”
    O’Hearne grinned and commenced singing.
    “Who the hell you think you are? Come on, professor, let’s shove. He’s got fifteen minutes to finish up.”
    “Come back here, wise guy, or I’ll knock the crap out of you.”
    “Take it easy, fellows,” Norton crooned. “You know the penalty for fighting.”
    “Forrester, I don’t like you or your crowd. Square away before I get mad.”
    “You don’t like us because we don’t kiss your ass like the rest of the boots.”
    “Take it easy, fellows.”
    “O’Hearne, you’re a craphead like the rest of us. If it is going to make you happy to swing, go on and swing. At least you’ll go boondocking with us if this head isn’t finished.”
    Shannon poised and Danny walked past him to the outside. Then he turned to Norton. “I suppose you’ll have to finish up, Shannon.” To attack Norton would mean ostracism from the platoon. O’Hearne snarled a moment then reached for a long-handled brush with the promise to settle the score later.
     
    “Fall out!”
    “Aye aye, sir.”
    “Gather around on the deck. The smoking lamp is lit.” The squat sergeant stood in the semicircle of sweating recruits. “Today is the most important day in your lives. You people are going to draw rifles. You’ve got yourselves a new girl now. Forget that broad back home! This girl is the most faithful, truest woman in the world if you give her a fair shake. She won’t sleep with no swab jockies the minute your back is turned. Keep her clean and she’ll save your life.”
    They laughed politely at Beller’s recitation. Smiling content, he continued. “You can take tanks, artillery, planes and any other goof ball invention and jam it. The rifle is going to win this war like it’s been winning them ever since we whipped you goddamyankees at Antietam. The Marines are the best goddam riflemen in the world.” Beller took off his pith helmet and wiped his forehead. “Learn to shoot straight and the Corps will pay you extra for it. But before you ever squeeze off a shot, you’re going to know every part and every part of a part of the rifle. Get your buckets, change to dungarees and fall in, in three minutes.”
    “Sergeant Beller, sir.”
    “What is it, Dwyer?”
    “What kind of guns are we going to get? Springfields or Garands?”
    Beller’s leathery face became a mass of wrinkled snarls. “Dwyer, God help