FAIR ENOUGH IN LOVE AND WAR
—1—
American casualties were beginning to come down from the sector around
Château Thierry. There had been a bloody battle in progress up there.
Reports had it that the Americans were advancing on Soissons, pushing
the enemy back from Paris. At last it began to sound as if we were
actually doing something.
It’s funny how jokes came with wounded men: you’d think of anything but
a joke when you saw one of them, but it’s true that the more the
casualties the more jokes about them. Once, I recall, I heard two
fellows talking in a hospital and one of them was telling about a louie
asking him questions, and it really was funny.
The louie asked him where he was hit at the Front and the doughboy
replied that he wasn’t hit at the front at all. The louie thought he was
trying to be funny, but the man insisted that he was “hit in the rear,
sir.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the officer. “An accident? Then you aren’t
wounded—just injured. Here in the S.O.S.”
“No, sir,” replied the man, “I turned around to see where my lieutenant
was and the next thing I knew I was in a first aid station.”
The officer was puzzled, but thought he saw the light. “Cold feet, eh?
Your commanding officer had to stop you from running away, eh?”
“Say—” says the man, insulted, “we was at the Front goin’ across, I
tell ya—an’ I hear somebody yell something behind me. I thought it was
the lieutenant an’ I turned around to see. Just then something hit me in
the rear and here I am.”
“Oh—” says the louie. “You mean in the back, which was to the front!”
“Sure—in the rear,” repeated the other doggedly.
“Oh!” says the louie and walks away, while the man cursed after him for
being so dumb.
That isn’t so funny in print, but it surely did sound funny the way that
fellow told it.
I guess the joke that was best known and had the most variations in the
whole army was the old one about the man in the hospital being
interrogated by a kindly woman visitor who insisted upon knowing where
he was wounded. I heard about a hundred variations of this story: every
man you met had a new twist to it, so I guess it qualifies as the A.E.F.
joke. Of all the endings, however, I think the best one is that in which
the wounded man finally replies, “Madame, if you was hit where I was
hit, you wouldn’t a’ been hit at all!” Maybe it seemed so funny to me
because I’m a girl myself, but it’s a good story anyway and is
representative of the brand of Rabelaisian humor that bloomed in this
man’s army. And the wounded men were the worst ones for telling stories.
I heard a verse of “Parley Vous” from one, about a Mademoiselle from
Bar-le-Duc, which was positively putrid—it was so utterly vile that it
took me two days to figure out just what it meant. I couldn’t even write
it in shorthand!
—2—
There was not much humor in my personal situation at this time. The
suspense was awful! Complications were setting in.
One day, Chilblaines came in the office and stared at me as if he had
seen a ghost. “Sergeant,” he demanded, “didn’t I just meet you on the
street a moment ago?”
“Me?” I exclaimed. “No, sir—I haven’t been out of the office for an
hour or more.”
He was plainly worried. “I would swear that I saw you getting out of a
side car down the street, not more than two minutes ago,” he insisted.
“Well,” I replied, with a laugh, “you must have seen my double, sir,
because I’ve been right here all the time.”
He wasn’t convinced, but of course he couldn’t argue the point any
further. Finally he observed, “I never knew two people could look so
much alike. There was a mole on his cheek, exactly the same.”
“Gee—that’s funny,” I admitted.
“Very odd,” he concluded. “Strange and remark- able coincidence, I
should say.” And he dropped the subject, although he kept looking at me
rather annoyingly all day. I hated to think of that dizzy pomme-de-terre
getting any funny ideas in his head. He was bad enough as it was—God
knows what he’d do if he thought I was in any way irregular. It would
have been just like him to think I was some kind of a spy or something.
I mean, if he thought I lied to him about being in that side car, he’d
be liable to suspect almost anything.
All of which didn’t make me feel very comfortable—with Ben hardly
pacified yet and Jay-Jay looking for trouble, and Leon doing God only
knew what to make matters worse.
—3—
Everybody seemed to run across that brother of mine except me. Ben saw
him once and almost caught him. When he came back and told me about it,
after asking if I had been out, I wondered why he wanted to catch him.
“Because,” says Ben, “if that wasn’t you, it was the guy that got me in
that jam up in Le Mans, and I just wanted to speak to him a minute—just
long enough to crown him a coupla times.”
I couldn’t see what good that would do him but he seemed to think it
would do a lot of good. He said he noticed there weren’t any chevrons on
the fellow’s sleeve and he made a bee line for him, but Leon apparently
was some kind of a dispatch carrier, for he hopped into a motor cycle
side car and left Ben with a cloud of dust for his pains.
I wished I could get hold of Leon before he got us both into trouble.
—4—
If you dream of the devil long enough he’s bound to appear.
Who should I bump square into one day but my handsome Captain! I saluted
and started to move on, for I had decided that he probably didn’t know
Leon—I mean, that Leon probably didn’t know him. But he caught my arm
and stared into my face very studiously.
“Excuse me, Sergeant,” he explained, looking straight at me. “I know
your name but I can’t think of it. I met your sister one night last
year—she danced and you read some poetry.”
I didn’t know what to say and when I didn’t say anything, he continued,
as if he were trying to make me remember the party or him. “Your aunt or
cousin or somebody told me how much alike you and your sister were and I
remember seeing you—just a glimpse—now what in the dickens is that
name?”
Well, you can imagine how I felt! Here I had been dreaming about him all
this time and he didn’t even remember my name! I had a good notion not
to tell him what my name was, but I couldn’t very well avoid it, so I
finally helped him out.
“Canwick! That’s it!” he exclaimed. “Of course. Why can’t I remember
names? Well, anyway, I’m certainly glad to see you.”
“You’ll pardon me, sir,” I interrupted. “But I still haven’t the
faintest idea as to who you are.” I had to call up all my resources to
keep my voice in its assumed naturalness.
“My name is Winstead,” he hurriedly explained. “And your sister made a
tremendous impression upon me—tremendous!” He hesitated a moment. “So
tremendous, I must confess, that I forgot whether I had heard her last
name or not. You see, I only saw her that one night and all I could
remember was her first name. It’s Leona, isn’t it?”
I nodded, and suddenly I began to feel good again. I couldn’t keep from
smiling and I had to tell him that I seemed to recall hearing something
about him from my sister. “But why didn’t you write down her name and
her address?” I inquired, as disinterestedly as I could.
“I did,” he replied. “Wrote it down and stuck it in the pocket of my
blouse—and that’s the last I saw of it. Must have been thrown out by
the tailor or someone, because when I tried to find it, it was nowhere
to be found. And I was genuinely sorry, for I had told your sister I
would write just as soon as I learned where I would be stationed. I
suppose she thought I was having a good time with her, eh?”
“Well—” I tried to say something, but just couldn’t. So that was why he
had never written. And he did remember, after all. I did mean something
to him, judging by the way he acted now.
“Tell me about her,” he pleaded earnestly but with that same engaging
smile that made my heart flutter in the garden back home.
I told him that my sister was very busy, entertaining in the camps.
“Over here?” he asked eagerly.
“No—over in the States,” I told him. “She tried everything imaginable,
you know. She wanted so badly to feel that she was doing something in
the War.”
“But tell me,” he interrupted, “what happened to the young chap, what’s
his name? Marfield? I had the idea that he and your sister were more or
less engaged.”
“Oh—Marfield’s over here now. Has something to do with providing
entertainment for the men in camps.”
“I see.” He seemed very disappointed. “And he helped her get in over
there, I suppose. Are they married?”
I had to laugh. “Of course not,” I told him. “He didn’t have anything to
do with her getting into that work. And they’ll never be married as long
as she has anything to say about it.”
“Aha—” he laughed. “That’s better. But doesn’t she like him? I’m
interested, you see.”
“Well—” I replied with some hesitation, “I have a hunch that she thinks
she would like someone else a lot more. You know how girls are!”
“Um—yes—surely.” He pulled out a package of cigarettes and I took one.
We lit up from one of his matches and I waited for him to ask more
questions.
But he seemed to have learned what he wished to know about my sister and
changed the subject to me: wanted to know what I was doing, if he could
help me along in any way, when I would be in Paris again, and whether
I’d care to look him up the next time I got there. “We can find
something to do, no doubt, and I’ll enjoy hearing more about that sister
of yours.”
I told him I’d like very much to meet him in Paris, “but it would look
rather odd for an enlisted man to be with an officer in a social way.”
“Oh—just forget that part of it,” he reassured me. “It happens that I
am in a position to do just about as I please in anything of that sort,
and besides I’ll have a good excuse for us: it just occurs to me that
you are the very man I’ve been looking for. I’ll put you to work when
you come to Paris.” He seemed to think this was an inspiration.
It didn’t strike me that way, however, and I told him so. I had enough
work already without contracting for any on the side.
“But this won’t be work,” he argued. “Indeed, most fellows would
consider it a pleasure—for there’s a very lovely lady involved in the
affair and your work would be to make love to her or let her make love
to you, if she so desired. Really, it would be a pleasure I’d reserve
for myself, if it weren’t for the fact that the lady would be suspicious
of any attentions I might lavish upon her.... I’ll explain when I see
you in Paris. You’re just the type for the job—she plays around with
middle-aged officers so much that a boyish chap like you will just about
take her in tow without any effort. By George, this will be good!”
Well, I didn’t like the sound of it. In the first place he said he’d
like to make love to her himself: that was no way for a man to talk, if
he really loved somebody else! And the idea of me making love to another
woman didn’t arouse any enthusiastic eagerness in my young breast.
However, what could I say, except that I’d be glad to look him up in
Paris.
Before we separated, he asked where he could write to Leona and I told
him to send it to Wakeham, care of Aunt Elinor, who would forward the
letter. I said I really couldn’t say just where Leona was now. But just
after leaving him I sat myself down and wrote to Auntie, telling her to
forward at once any letters that came for me.
That Captain certainly did get me all excited. I hardly knew what I was
doing all day after seeing him. That “tremendous impression” he
mentioned was mutual.
—5—
Next appeared a surprise in the person of Jay-Jay. He didn’t know where
to find me, so he parked himself around headquarters and waited.
Naturally I had to walk right into his arms!
I divined at once that he had something rotten up his sleeve and as soon
as he spoke I knew the cat had busted the bag and was out.
He didn’t give me time to say anything. Just smiled wisely at me and
started in making sarcastic cracks.
But I was in a hurry and told him so. “The General is waiting for me
this minute and I can’t stop to talk now.” I said, drawing away from
him.
“I’ll be here to-night,” he replied. “And you’d better see me! I want to
talk to you.”
Well, what could I say? If I could be sure that he didn’t really know
anything, I’d hide in the cellar all night to avoid seeing him. But that
I couldn’t know, so I said I’d be at the entrance to the headquarters
building at seven o’clock.
“Good enough. That’s the baby!” he declared, grabbing my hand and giving
it a squeeze to emphasize his meaning.
And just at that moment Ben appeared. He didn’t say anything right away,
but a little later when we were alone he observed suddenly, “You seem to
be purty popular with the boys, Leony!... Was that guy tryin’ to make
ya?”
I laughed at the idea of Jay-Jay being like that. Ben does think of the
funniest things—but of course he couldn’t know, and it must have
sounded funny to him for a man to be calling me “baby.” Well, anyway, I
explained to him that this lieutenant was in the Entertainment Corps and
had known me as an amateur performer back in the States. “So now he
wants me to help him work up some stuff for an entertainment—a banquet
some General’s giving,” I added for good measure. “Don’t get foolish
about that ‘baby’ stuff—that guy calls everyone ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’
or something equally inappropriate.”
He grinned and said, “Well—it sounded kinda peculiar!” But I could see
that he believed me, so I stopped worrying about him. Which didn’t mean
that I wasn’t worrying about Jay-Jay and trying to dope out some way of
stalling him off.
I didn’t want to make him mad, for then he might get nasty. On the other
hand, I didn’t want to be so friendly with him that he could begin
getting familiar. I wouldn’t put anything past him—and I knew he’d lost
all desire to marry me. What he wanted now was just what he always
wanted, and he’d do anything under the sun to get it. That was Jay-Jay
all over!
Well, I hadn’t determined upon any course of action when I started out
to meet him that evening. Ben said he was going out and take a walk and
I told him I might run into him later. “Watch yer step!” he admonished,
with a laugh.
When I arrived at the appointed place, Jay-Jay was waiting. I saluted
him, but instead of returning the salute he just laughed and told me to
“Forget it.”
“Well—what’s on your mind?” I inquired casually.
He laughed again before saying, “I’ll give you three guesses!”
“Well—you want to borrow some money?” I suggested.
“Don’t be absurd,” he retorted. “You know as well as I why I’m here!”
“No—I’m afraid you have the advantage in that respect. I can’t imagine
why you were so anxious to see me. I’m not my sister, you know.”
He seemed to think that was a huge joke, too, but he calmed down too
quickly to let me think his laughter was genuine. “Why, Sergeant, I came
all the way from Paris just to tell you that I have written to your Aunt
to inform her how well you are getting along.”
“That was good of you, I’m sure.”
“But, of course, I didn’t tell her that both of you are getting along
all right—although I could have said as much, I suppose.”
“Then you’ve heard from Leona?” I suggested with feigned eagerness.
“Yes—heard from her, saw her, and also saw Leon.”
I managed to laugh at that. “That’s not very hard,” I said. “It’s still
light and he’s right in front of you.”
“Yeh?” he inquired sarcastically. “Well, well—it all certainly is
interesting. Almost like a piece of fiction or a melodramatic play. If I
weren’t so sure, I’d say it was impossible—if I didn’t know you so
well....”
“I don’t get you at all,” I declared.
He lit a cigarette, then offered me one. “You didn’t smoke when I last
saw you,” he observed.
I took one of his cigarettes and lit it, not bothering to answer him.
“Let’s take a walk down by the river front,” he suggested.
I didn’t want to walk anywhere out of the way. Night was coming on and I
made up my mind that we two were not going to be together anywhere in
the dark. But I couldn’t object to taking a walk, so we started out.
He did practically all the talking as we stepped along toward the river,
along its bank for a short distance, and turned back toward the
barracks. It was dark by the time we reached the entrance and I was
trying to make up my mind whether he really did have anything on me or
was just acting on suspicion. He had talked so much and really said so
little of actual fact that I was becoming more confident of my position.
“Now, Leona,” he began finally, as we were standing in the dark beside
the doorway into the barracks. “There’s no sense in your trying to bluff
me on this. I know it’s you and I don’t see any reason for your being so
high and mighty about it. Why not take me into the secret and not have
so much to worry about?”
“You’re crazy as hell!” I exclaimed impulsively, although while he had
been talking I had been trying to decide whether or not it would be wise
to take him into my confidence, as Aunt Elinor suggested. My impulsive
answer settled the matter, and I continued on that line. “I don’t know
where you got this foolish idea, but I certainly don’t relish the
situation in the least. Your suggestion is positively absurd! You must
be insane to think of such a thing!”
“You won’t admit it then?” he demanded.
“Admit something that isn’t true?” I exclaimed, with indignation.
“Honestly, are you crazy?” I put as much contempt into this last
question as I could muster. I knew it would make him furious.
And it did. “I suppose it was you I saw in Le Mans a couple of days
after I saw you here!” he declared with a sarcastic pitch of his voice.
“Why, I suppose it was,” I replied evenly. “I was in Le Mans not long
ago, and it is very possible that you saw me there.” Oh, what a lie!
He laughed. “Yeh—but it just happens that I noticed there were no
chevrons on Leon’s sleeve—and you’re a sergeant.” He laid his hand on
my arm. “Laugh that off now!” he invited.
And I did try to laugh it off, ending with another little lie, to the
effect that on the day referred to I happened to have on a new blouse
which I had to take before the tailor got through with it.
“Say—do I look that dumb?” he demanded.
“No—you don’t look very dumb,” I admitted, “but you sure do talk dumb
as hell.”
Just then I caught the sound of a whistle—a familiar whistle, and sure
enough, a moment later Esky bounded into view, followed by Ben.
I was scared stiff lest my tormentor say something so loud that Ben
would hear it, but while I was entertaining this worry I felt myself
seized in Jay-Jay’s arms and I knew at once that the fight was on. I
scratched and bit and kicked and did everything possible to prevent him
from putting his hands where he wanted to put them: at the moment it
seemed to me that the whole world depended upon my keeping him from
satisfying himself that his suspicions were correct. He was terribly mad
and some of his curses weren’t very nice, but I was mad, too, and hated
him from the bottom of my heart. I was so mad I could have burst into
tears—but before that could happen, my assailant was suddenly removed
from my vicinity and the next thing I heard was a dull thud as he hit
the sidewalk some six or eight feet distant. Ben stood glowering beside
me and Esky was dancing around as if he were having the time of his
life.
Jay-Jay picked himself up and started to come back, but Ben told him to
be on his way and “shut up.”
Jay-Jay stopped, brushed himself off, and called Ben a vile name,
adding, “You know what happens to men who assault an officer!”
“Holy Christ!” exclaimed Ben to me, but to Jay-Jay he kept up the bold
front, saying, “I just showed ya what happens to officers who assault
men, too. Guess there ain’t much danger of a ladybird like you makin’
any complaint fer gettin’ what you deserve. Now, beat it!” And he
stepped out as if he would crown him again.
Jay-Jay moved away then, but not before he sent an ominous speech to me.
He said: “Sergeant Canwick will pay a good price for this—and that’s a
promise!”
If Ben hadn’t been there I’d have told him that there’s only one thing I
could pay and I’d be damned in hell before I’d ever pay it to him!
But Ben was there, saying, “Christ’s sake, Leony, didn’t I tell ya not
to have anythin’ to do with them guys! I knew he was a lily the minute I
laid eyes on him.”
I started to tell him that his ideas were all wrong this time, but then
I realized that it didn’t make any difference what he thought of
Jay-Jay: and I could laugh at the idea anyway!
What worried me was what Jay-Jay would do: he could tell on me, if he
was sure I was Leona—but he couldn’t be sure, for apparently he didn’t
talk to Leon in Le Mans, and he didn’t succeed in finding out anything
to-night. I had a hunch, based upon my knowledge of his make-up, that
Jay-Jay would not say anything to anyone. He’d rather try again. He was
mad now and he knew that I knew what to expect if he did get wise to the
secret. No—Jay-Jay wouldn’t squeal. What I had to worry about now was
keeping out of his way—if he found out the truth and I still refused to
play with him: then, and not until then, would he squeal.... I’d have
let him squeal before I’d give in to him. I always knew he was like
that: nothing but a beast.
In a way I was relieved. Better be war between us than a long drawn out
friendship that would be a constant strain on my ability to keep on good
terms with him to prevent his telling. The more I thought of him, the
better I liked Esky. And Ben was a veritable saint and jewel in
comparison with him.
—6—
Jay-Jay didn’t show up next day, so I concluded that he was only in town
for that night. Or Ben may have given him a black eye which required
nursing. Anyway, I was free again for the time being, and we were going
to Paris next day, with stops at Blois and Orléans, and even if Jay-Jay
was back in Paris, I might be lucky enough to miss him. I was glad in
spite of the danger: for the first thing I wanted was to hunt up Captain
Winstead.