Lovely War(54)

“Lot of activity back there lately,” Pete said. “They’re getting shipments of heavy ammo. They must have something planned.” He flexed his fingers. “Should I take him?”

James’s stomach roiled. Don’t ask me. Don’t put this on me.

The man, the gray smudge—did he have a wife? A sweetheart? Sons, daughters? Whether the rest of their lives would be joyful, or tragic, suddenly rested in James’s choice.

Stall. “Can you make the shot from that far?” he asked.

“Sure.” Pete’s mouth hung open. He kept his open eye on the target. “Well, should I?”

Do not ask me. “That’s up to you,” James said. “You’ve got him in your crosshairs.”

“I sure do.” Yawkey pulled the trigger.

Of course James couldn’t see the bullet spiraling across the gulf between them. But it felt like he could. Of course the German officer couldn’t know that the crack ringing in James’s ears was his own death knell. The bullet would reach him before the sound.

“Did I get him, Alderidge?” asked Yawkey.

“Yes,” said James. “You did.”





APOLLO


     Vampire Squad—February 3, 1918





THAT SUNDAY MORNING, with a pocket of free time on his hands, Aubrey decided to walk past Hut One to see if, perhaps, a certain young relief volunteer might be on her way somewhere. She wasn’t. So he circled around again, and a third time. At length even he admitted defeat and settled for a long walk into the village of Saint-Nazaire, off the base. Stretching his legs would do him good. And so would the illusion, however temporary, of freedom from others’ commands.

On his way back, at a crossroads, he saw an officer approach the intersection to the right from a distance. He saluted, just in case, and moved on.

“Edwards!” A voice pulled him back to the corner.

Uh-oh. “Good morning, Captain Fish.”

“At ease, Private,” said Captain Hamilton Fish III. “Walk with me?”

“Yes, sir.” This was unexpected.

“What were you up to this morning?”

“Just a walk, Captain, sir,” he said. “A little exercise.”

Captain Fish grunted. “I should think you got enough of that during the week.”

Aubrey conceded. He had a point.

“Edwards,” Captain Fish said, “next time you go off base, take a pal, all right?”

This hardly sounded like an order. “Sir?”

Captain Fish was slow to respond. “There have been . . . threats.”

Aubrey’s interest piqued. “Southern soldiers, sir?”

Fish nodded. “Well, yes. Though bigotry is hardly so simple as North versus South.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent enough time in the officers’ lounge to see that.”

Aubrey suppressed a sly smile. It was good of Fish to explain bigotry to him. White folks.

“There are some fine, unprejudiced men too,” Captain Fish added earnestly. “I’ve had many compliments on the discipline of our men, from officers from all over the country. I am certain that once this war is done, your courageous example will help redress that inequality.”

These rich, white Harvard types. Everything they said sounded like a speech from a candidate for Congress. It was a nice thought, but if so many Americans were already angry at the sight of a black man in uniform, standing tall and proud with a gun in his hand, Aubrey doubted whether a chest full of medals would make a difference.

They’d reached the outskirts of the base.

“Still, Edwards,” Captain Fish said. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

“I will, but—”

“Yes, Private?”

Aubrey didn’t want to seem disrespectful. “It’s just, I hear you, but we’re from the city, you know, Captain? We can look out for ourselves.” His hand went to the Colt in his pocket.

Captain Fish clapped a hand on his shoulder. “All the same,” he said firmly, “take a pal with you. Some of these boys making the threats are—well, I don’t like saying it of any soldier of Uncle Sam, but—they’re the scum of the earth, and that’s God’s truth.”

There was no safe answer for Aubrey to make to this statement, so he made none.

“You’re a good soldier and a fine musician,” Fish said. “Don’t want to lose you.”

And a human being, Fish. “I’ll be careful, sir,” he said. “I promise.”

“Good day, soldier.” Captain Fish saluted.

Aubrey matched the salute. “Good day, Captain.”

Captain Fish strode off another way, and Aubrey finished the journey, sauntering extra slowly past Hut One. He made his way to Camp Lusitania and the Y hut for black soldiers. There was still some time to kill before duty called him anywhere, and since being in the mood for love didn’t matter one way or the other, he decided he was in the mood for ping-pong.

Joey Rice spotted him when he came in and pulled him aside into a corner.

“Did you hear?” Joey whispered. “Our boys. The ones taking revenge for the killed soldier. Calling themselves the Vampire Squad.” His grip on Aubrey’s elbow was tight. “They killed a marine last night.”