The four of them made their way through the jungle for almost two hours before they finally found the site of impact and they were not happy with what they discovered.
"Aw great!" Boyle exclaimed.
"I'll kill him, dammit, I'll kill him and feed him to the sharks for this," French yelled.
Casey and Anderson both stood there too stunned to say anything. Washing Machine Charlie had toppled a banana and two coconut trees all with an over abundance of ripe fruit as well as killing two more wild pigs, but that was not the reason for them being so distraught. The source of the flames they had seen last night had been the result of Charlie scoring a direct hit on the still, which the Black Sheep had set up in the jungle.
"We may as well take this fruit and the pigs back," Casey said.
"We will," French replied. "However, first we're going to try to salvage what we can of the still and with a little luck we might be able to rebuild it."
When Washing Machine Charlie hit something, he really hit it and there wasn't much left of the still to salvage. French and Boyle carried what remained of the still and Anderson and Casey took off their shirts and filled them with coconuts and bananas. They would have to come back for the pigs as there was no way to drag them back to camp. As they made their way back to camp French commented dejectedly.
"We've lost TJ and now the still. If anything else goes wrong I'm going to really get mad."
Greg was standing outside the Sheep Pen holding Emily and talking with Bragg when they made their way back into camp.
"Don't tell me he hit the still!" Bragg exclaimed.
"Not only did he hit it, he destroyed it," French replied. "This is all that's left of it."
He and Boyle sat a few pieces of copper tubing, some pipes, and some other parts that were now beyond being identifiable.
"I thought I told you guys to dismantle that still months ago. If Colonel Lard discovered it that would be the end of us, as far as the Black Sheep are concerned, and besides have you ever known us to have a liquor shortage?"
"No Pappy," they said.
"Then why make it when we can trade for it? We've got a great little system worked out here for ourselves and you have to admit that, as long as no one slips up, the chances of Colonel Lard catching on are practically next to nothing. So, the way I see it at least one good thing came from Washing Machine Charlie's late night fly over and bombing run last night and that is he probably saved our necks by unknowingly destroying the still. Now, anything else you'd like to tell me?"
"Uh, yeah Pappy, where do you want us to put these bananas and coconuts so we can go back and get the pigs he killed?" Casey asked.
Normally, Greg would have welcomed another pig or two, but as they had just finished the four that were killed during the storm, that had hit the island a few months ago, they all were really sick and tired of pork, in all its various forms. Still, it was free food and why let it rot in the jungle or be eaten by some other animals when they could enjoy it.
"Do like you did after the storm, get some empty boxes from the Sheep Pen, put them in there and then put the boxes behind the bar. The bananas won't last very long in this heat, so just set them out for whoever wants them. You all know what to do with pig." Then he added to himself. "I hope after this it's a long time before another wild pig is killed anywhere near this camp, if we eat anymore we all might just be going whee, whee, whee all the way home once this war is over," he thought smiling at his humorous take on the children's rhyme This Little Piggy Went To Market.
The morale among the Black Sheep was at an all time low although, luckily, things were fairly quiet as far as the war was concerned and so the only flying to be done was the morning and afternoon patrols of The Slot, which Anderson and Boyle conducted. They never said anything, but on at least one and sometimes both of the patrols each day they flew over where TJ had gone down hoping to see some sign of him, but the only thing below them was the vast Pacific Ocean and if Greg was aware of what they were doing he didn't say anything about it.
Gutterman remained locked up with French and Bragg standing guard most of the time. Greg could usually be found at his desk trying to bring himself to write the dreaded letter to TJ's family and also start the process of filing formal charges against Gutterman. Two days had passed since TJ's plane had been shot down, let alone any indication of whether or not he had survived and still Greg couldn't get up the courage to do either one. In regard to the first matter he still had this feeling that TJ was alive and if that were the case he didn't want to cause his family any suffering for no reason. In regard to the second matter he just didn't feel like filling out the necessary paperwork and contacting Colonel Lard, under the circumstances, both of which he knew he would be required to do. The rest of the Black Sheep were usually sitting in the Sheep Pen staring at the tables or out the window. Even Emily sensed their sadness and was quiet, most of the time, while she was being held by one of them.
A full moon hung over Vella La Cava making it almost as bright as day. Everyone was sitting in the Sheep Pen although the only sounds to be heard were the night animals scurrying about in the jungle, Meatball's tail occasionally thumping on the floor as he dreamt whatever canine dreams were drifting through his mind, and Emily's sighs and soft noises as she slept with her head resting on Casey's shoulder. Greg stared at the glass of scotch in front of him, not really caring if he drank it or not. Some guys when they were upset went out and got drunk to mask their pain. Greg, at this point, was too upset to do even that. Boyle and Anderson got up and as they did so Greg looked over at them.
"We're going to relieve Don and Jerry on guard duty, not that there's much going on in here, but they might want to come in for awhile anyway. Greg just nodded and went back to staring at his drink.
"He giving you two any trouble?" Boyle asked when they walked up.
"Nah," French replied. "Earlier he was cussing worse than a sailor denied shore leave, but he's been quiet for the last hour. I think he's passed out. You two should have heard him, though. He was calling Greg names I'd never heard before in my life and then he started in on the Marine Corps in general and how once Greg let him out of this shed he was going to knock us all to kingdom come."
"You think he's going crazy?" Anderson asked concerned.
"Nope, I just realized he's probably stinking drunk," Jerry explained.
"WHAT!" Boyle and Anderson exclaimed.
"Yeah, remember we put those cases of scotch, rum, whisky and bourbon that we got from Walter Schlotsky's unit in here and covered them with a tarp so that Greg wouldn't drink all the scotch and trade the rest of it for more scotch."
"Who's Walter Schlotsky?" Anderson asked still not clear about where the liquor had come from.
"Remember that Army unit that was on Espritos Marcos a couple of months ago?" French asked.
"Wait a minute, skinny, bookish looking, young man with glasses?" Anderson asked suddenly remembering who they were talking about.
"Yeah, he was their company clerk and let's just say Bragg, Casey, TJ, and I helped him fudge on some very important paperwork and as a way of saying thanks for getting his unit's neck out of the fire they sent us all of that liquor," French said.
"Which Gutterman has probably already drunk most of by now," Bragg said dejectedly.
Fortunately, Gutterman had only discovered the liquor earlier that afternoon and as a result he had only had time to finish off three fairly good sized bottles of the whiskey, which was still enough to leave him passed out for several hours. Once they realized that, Bragg, French, Anderson, and Boyle slipped into the shed and removed the remaining cases of liquor to the maintenance shed, where Hutch promised that if for some reason Greg asked about where it had gone he would simply say that he didn't know.
It was late the next day and with still no word on TJ it was looking as if they were never going to see him again. Greg had started several letters to TJ's family, but each time he got too choked up and had to quit, forcing himself to try again later. He was now sitting in the Sheep Pen, after trying for the eighth time to write the letter and had gotten two paragraphs written before he'd had to stop, tears blurring his vision to the point he could barely see. Anderson, French, and Boyle were seated with him while he tried to get Emily to eat some baby cereal, however she had more of it on her tummy, than in it, not to mention all over her face.
"You know," Anderson commented. "I'm surprised we haven't heard from Colonel Lard or General Moore about TJ being shot down."
"I did," Greg replied. "Why do you all think I was at Lard's office on Espritos Marcos most of the morning? I was giving a full account of what happened and getting my balls chewed off at the same time."
"Why, what did you do?" they all asked at once.
"I was getting blamed for Gutterman's insubordinate behavior."
"That makes no sense, you have no control over what Gutterman or any of us does, for that matter," French replied. "Of course, if you don't like what we're doing or how we're acting you can always take disciplinary measures against us."
Although, it was a known fact, among the Black Sheep, that Greg never took any sort of disciplinary measures against them for three reasons. First, he could usually talk his way out of just about any situation. Second, there was a better than average chance he had been involved in whatever it was they were being accused of, and third, they had probably been so drunk at the time that none of them remembered doing whatever it was they supposedly had done. Greg placed another spoonful of cereal in Emily's mouth.
"I'm the commanding officer around here and so it's my responsibility to make sure that everyone following procedural code and behaving in accordance with the standards of the Corps and if I can't do that then Colonel Lard will be more than happy to replace me with someone who can."
The three of them looked at Greg with fearful expressions. Despite having one of the best combat records, the Black Sheep were not known for following procedural code or behaving in accordance with Marine Corps standards in any way, shape, nor form and it would be a cold day, no make that a day with 100 below zero wind chill, in hell before they did.
"Which," Greg replied. "Ain't going to happen, Colonel Lard can threaten me all he wants, but you all know as well as I do with our air combat record if he tried to break us up he'd have a lot of explaining to do himself. Oh and did I tell you guys that he claims he's going to file disciplinary charges against me."
"That's the fifth time this month!" Anderson remarked.
"Actually, it's the eighth and he read off each offense and there is no possible way he's going to make any of them stick I can guarantee you that, especially one in particular since..."
"Blah, blah, ba," Emily said spitting cereal all over herself, Greg, and French in the process.
"That's exactly what I wanted to tell Colonel Lard," Greg said to her as he cleaned her and himself up, while Boyle and Anderson helped French wipe the cereal off of his shirt.
"What do you mean by that?" French asked.
"I am referring to my being accused of being with General Alderton's 22-year-old daughter on the 14th of last month, around midnight."
"Okay, so you weren't," the three of them confirmed.
Greg looked at them strangely.
"Of course, I was and do you all know what we were supposed to have been doing?"
The three of them shook their heads, although there was a better than average chance it did not involve saying Matins with Sister Mary Elizabeth.
"Well supposedly we were engaged in some less than appropriate behavior which, of course, I denied."
"You weren't?" the three of them couldn't believe it.
Greg was really enjoying dragging this out.
"Of course I was, the three of you have seen General Alderton's daughter, she can cause trouble just by walking into the room. Never mind that her parents think she's as innocent as Emily, but that's about as far from the truth as you can get.
I ran into her at the Officer's Club on Espritos Marcos, where she and her father were having dinner. After dinner, her father had a meeting with General Moore and I agreed to escort her back home. However, instead, we flew back here in my plane and walked down to the beach and ended up swimming naked in the lagoon. Then we spent the rest of the early morning hours getting to know each other very, very well."
Greg let his thoughts drift back to that night and what had gone on between the two of them on the beach. For Angelette to be so young she was very knowledgeable about the more sensual aspects of life and he had been shocked by some of the things that she had suggested they do. He could still feel her gentle touch on his skin as she explored every inch his body and the memory of her soft sighs of pleasure, in response to his light caresses and kisses, would be etched in his mind for quite some time. In her childhood she may have lived up to her name, but that was definitely not the case anymore, if what went on between them that night was any indication.
"But do you think I'd be stupid enough to admit that I was with her?" he asked giving them a very mischievous grin. "Don't answer that because I can tell you the answer is no and as far as we are concerned, if Colonel Lard, General Moore, or her father should ask nothing happened between the two of us, got it."
"Got it," the three of them replied.
Meanwhile, Casey was in radio shack just getting ready to sign off and go to the Sheep Pen when a message came over the radio. Casey listened and then not sure if he had heard it correctly, responded.
"Air Sea Rescue this is VMF-214 on Vella La Cava, repeat the previous message to confirm, over."
"Confirming message VMF-214 at we have found 1st Lt. Thomas Joseph "TJ" Wiley and he is alive, but in bad shape. He was sighted in a life raft 14 miles from where his plane went down on the 8th and immediate rescue was carried out successfully. We are transporting him to Espritos Marcos for further evaluation and treatment, over."
"Roger that Air Sea Rescue, message received, over."
Casey stared at the paper still not sure he believed what he was reading. Switching everything off, he left the radio shack and looked up at the evening sky before heading to the Sheep Pen.
"Please let TJ be okay," he whispered.
Greg and the others were still talking, although the subject had changed to who was going to win the 1942 World Series, the St. Louis Cardinals or the New York Yankees, when Casey ran inside.
"Can I see you outside for a minute, Pappy?" he asked.
Greg handed French the spoon and bowl with just a few more bites of cereal in it.
"Here you can finish feeding Emily while I see what Casey wants," he told him. "What's going on?" Greg asked once they were seated on some crates outside the Sheep Pen.
"I received a message from Air Sea Rescue just before I came over here."
Greg didn't like the sound of that and he liked it even less when Casey said.
"They found TJ and here...," he handed Greg the paper on which he had written the message.
Greg had to read it several times before it began to register with him what it said.
"TJ's alive," he said slowly.
Casey nodded.
"Yeah, but just barely," he replied.
The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, letting the fact that TJ had been found and was alive sink in; then they got up and went back in the Sheep Pen where French was cleaning up after getting Emily to finish her cereal.
"I had to resort to playing airplane with her on the last few spoonfuls," he said. "She took the spoon from me and turned it upside down. It reminded of...," he stopped unable to finish the sentence.
"TJ," Greg said. "Casey just heard from Air Sea Rescue. They found him 14 miles from where he went down. He's alive, but in very bad shape." At first no one knew what to say and then as the realization that TJ was alive hit them they grew excited.
"Calm down," Greg told them. "As I said he's in bad shape so there's still a chance he might not make it." Then to himself added, "But, he sure is putting up one hell of a fight if he's managed to stay alive this long."
"After the morning patrol tomorrow, I'll go over and talk to Dr. Pendleton and get more details as to his condition."
The morning patrol was uneventful except for the fact that instead of returning back to Vella La Cava, the Black Sheep turned and flew over the spot where TJ had been picked up, each of them saying a silent prayer for his recovery as well as thanks that he had been found alive before heading back.
Once they had landed Greg went back to his tent and wrote to TJ's family letting them know what had happened and assuring them that he would contact them immediately and let them know if there was any change in his condition. Meanwhile, the others went into the Sheep Pen and began working diligently over what looked like a heavy piece of paper.
Finished with the letter, Greg came out and headed toward one of the jeeps parked near the airstrip.
"Pappy, wait up," Anderson called as they headed toward him.
Greg stopped and waited by the jeep until they had all got there.
"We made this for TJ," Anderson said. "We even got Gutterman to sign it, although he's still making a stink about being locked up."
"And he's going to stay that way until I see what's going to happen with TJ," Greg thought.
"You're the only one left to sign it," Anderson continued handing Greg the homemade card that they had been working on in the Sheep Pen while he had been writing to TJ's family.
Somewhere they had managed to find some thin cardboard that was white on both sides and on the front Anderson had drawn a realistic looking Corsair and the Black Sheep coat of arms, along with an island complete with a couple of palm trees, some very colorful tropical flowers and a purple, blue, and yellow tropical bird using some ink pens that he had borrowed a few days ago from Allison, who was one of the new nurses to be assigned to the hospital.
"Okay, who's the secret artist?" Greg asked very impressed with the detail that had gone into each drawing.
Anderson raised his hand.
"All I can say is that this is definitely going to cheer TJ up," Greg said looking at them appreciatively. "I'll let you guys know what I've found out when I get back."
When Greg arrived at the hospital he was directed to Dr. Pendleton's office.
"Come in," Dr. Pendleton said upon hearing Greg's knock.
"Good morning, doctor, how's TJ doing?" Greg asked.
"Sit down Greg. I thought you'd probably be in today."
Greg sat down and waited for Dr. Pendleton to continue.
"TJ's definitely not out of the woods, but he's improved very slightly since he was brought in yesterday."
"That's good," Greg thought.
Then he asked. "How serious are his injuries?"
"He's lucky, Greg, very lucky, if Air Sea Rescue hadn't discovered him when they did he'd have been dead in a few hours."
Greg felt a cold chill go through him when he heard that.
Dr. Pendleton continued.
"He's got a large gash on his forehead that was starting to become infected, but we've cleaned and stitched that and I think we've got the infection under control. He's got burns to his hands and arms as well as two bullet wounds; one to the shoulder and one on his side. He's lucky on that one as well, a few inches over and it would have hit a lung. Of course, it's obvious he's suffering from exposure being out in the open water for four days and nights like he was. He's running a fever and we've got him on antibiotics, but I can tell you he's doing his best to recover. I've seen guys in a lot better shape than he is now just give up."
"Could I see him for a few minutes?" Greg asked.
"It might do him some good, but I doubt if he'll say anything or realize you're even there since we've got him sedated," Dr. Pendleton said showing Greg to TJ's room.
"I'll only stay a few minutes," Greg assured him.
"All right, I have to check on some other patients, but if you have any questions about his condition have one of the nurses come and get me before you leave."
Greg nodded and entered TJ's room and even after talking with Dr. Pendleton a few moments ago and being appraised of his condition it still was a shock seeing how bad TJ actually was. Greg pulled a chair up next to TJ's bedside and sat down. He really didn't know what to say for a few moments, so he just sat there thankful that at least TJ was alive.
"You probably don't realize it, but we've been worried sick about you," he said finally. "And I want you to know I blasted the hell out of that rice ball that did this to you. Matter of fact, I hope that's where he is right now."
TJ stirred briefly.
"Pappy?" he said, his voice so faint it was barely a whisper.
Greg was uncertain if he had actually heard him or was only imagining things.
"I'm here TJ," he replied on the off chance that he had actually heard him.
TJ squeezed his hand.
"Thanks," he whispered before he drifted into unconsciousness again.
"You're welcome and TJ you just get better and that's an order," he said wondering if TJ could actually hear him or not.
Then sitting the card on the nightstand by the bed he quietly left the room.
Dr Pendleton was with another patient so Greg left a message with Kathlynn at the nurse's desk about TJ briefly regaining consciousness.
As he left the hospital Greg felt a little better now that he knew TJ was safe and getting treatment for his injuries. Still, he knew he wouldn't be completely happy until TJ was back flying with the Black Sheep. He was walking towards his jeep when the sound of another jeep pulling up to the hospital entrance, for some reason, caught his attention. He stopped, jaw dropping in astonishment as Bragg and French got out half carrying Anderson, who was yelling about how much pain he was in.
"Quit screaming you big baby. We offered to treat you in the Sheep Pen, but noooooo you insisted on being driven over here and so we took time out from helping Hutch fix the carburetor on Boyle's plane and this is the thanks we get. All you've done the entire way over here is whine and complain," French said angrily. "So, put a sock in it will ya."
"Something happen that I should know about?" Greg asked as they neared him.
"Pappy!" Bragg, French, and Anderson exclaimed.
Greg stood by his jeep, arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed, and the look on his face clearly told them he was not very happy.
"What happened guys and I want the truth?" he told them.
"Ummm, Anderson was shot in the rear area," Bragg said.
Greg looked at the three of them with a look that clearly said, "What did you just say?"
"What in the hell were you all doing on Espritos Marcos? You all were supposed to stay at camp while I was here seeing about TJ, not running off to Espritos Marcos to get into trouble at the Officers' Club."
"Not that Rear Area," French added by way of explanation.
"You three are making no sense what-so-ever," Greg said becoming even more exasperated than he already was.
"Pappy, are we going to stand here and talk or can I get taken care of?" Anderson said through clinched teeth.
"I'd like to take care of you with a swift kick in the butt," Greg remarked.
Then seeing Suzette and Annaliese arriving at the hospital for their shift, he motioned for them to come over and explained what was going on.
The two of them helped Anderson inside, and Greg couldn't help but notice the looks French and Bragg gave him.
"Care to tell me what that's all about?"
"What?" French replied.
"You know what, those looks the two of you were giving Anderson just now."
"Those two are going to get a very good look at Anderson's literal rear area," French told him.
"You mean?" Greg couldn't help it, but a grin played at the corners of his mouth.
"Yeah, he got shot right in the ass," Bragg said.
"Boyle was trying to shoot down a bunch of bananas and he got them down, but then the bullet came down and hit Anderson squarely in the..." French started to explain.
"Rear area," Bragg could barely finish the sentence he was laughing so hard.
Greg rolled his eyes upward.
"Sometimes," he thought. "These clowns were more trouble than the Japanese."
Then he added. "I guess we had better go in and see how he's getting along."
Greg wasn't liking the idea that he was, for the time being, going to be short three pilots now that TJ was in the hospital, Gutterman was going to stay locked up, at least until he was sure TJ was going to make it, and now it was doubtful that Anderson would be able to sit down, for long periods of time, for a few days.
"If anything else goes wrong I'm going to scream," he said to himself.
Suzette was waiting for them at the nurse's station, just inside the door.
"Dr. Pendleton just got the bullet out a few minutes ago, but he'd like to keep him for about an hour. We had to give him a mild sedative and the doctor wants that to wear off first before he discharges him. You can go in and see him if you want to."
"Oh, I definitely want to see him," Greg thought
"Okay French, you and Bragg can head on back and Anderson will ride back to camp with me."
"Okay Pappy," French agreed.
Suzette showed Greg to the treatment room where Anderson was and when Greg entered Anderson looked up at him with pain filled eyes.
"Do you realize that what you did was not the most brilliant move ever?" Greg asked, not giving Anderson a chance to say anything first.
"Come on Pappy, would you lay off with the lecturing for once, my ass hurts," Anderson whined.
"In case it hasn't occurred to you, Anderson, the entire squadron is a pain in my ass at one time or another. So, now you know how I feel," Greg countered. "And as soon as Dr. Pendleton gives the okay to release you I'm confining you and Boyle to your tents for the evening."
"Why?" Anderson moaned.
"Because he knew better than to fire his weapon so close to camp when he was not engaged in combat with enemy forces or participating in an official training situation and you knew better than to be in the direct line of fire. As a result of your stupid actions, I'm short three pilots and I've had almost all I can handle for one day. That's why!"
Robert Anderson didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say, and if he had it probably wouldn't have done any good in the first place. When Greg got this mad there was no reasoning with him.