Apologies that this chapter took long to post. I was working on it, fell into writer's block, and had to push myself, but I appreciate everyone's patience.
Alaska was a state on January 3, 1959, hence why Louie mentions Alaska ever becoming a state.
Jay Black was the lead singer of the group Jay and the Americans.
Roy Orbison was another popular act in the 60s. He is the original singer of the song Gomer will be performing, 'In Dreams.'
The character of the detective is connected to my BFF's story, 'The Butterfly and the Wolf,' a Hogan's Heroes fic.
One mention of racial overtones towards the end. If you are uncomfortable, please don't read this chapter. It was a different time when using words like that was acceptable. Thankfully, things have progressed.
References from the episodes Gomer Minds His Sergeant's Car and Gomer, and the Father Figure,
German translations: liebchen= sweetheart, Hallo= hello, Schewster= nurse, Arroganter Bastard= Arrogant Bastard
Highland Park Scotch was established in Kirkwall, Orkney, in 1798.
*GC*
Taking in what was disclosed, Carter fell silent, making Gomer nervous. After what seemed like an eternity to Gomer, Carter finally talked, "I'm sorry...he did what?"
By Carter's tone of voice, Gomer could tell Carter wasn't happy, "He kissed me in the mess hall. We was talkin' about Grandma Pyle and how she would make me do chores, and then he kissed me. I wasn't kissin' him; he kissed me!"
The Sergeant felt the fury inside him build up. He slowly stood up from his desk, placing his cap on his head, "I oughta kill him..."
Panic took over Gomer. He blocked the door, stopping his love from going through with his word, "Vince, stop! Please, don't talk like that!"
Carter took in a few breaths, attempting to calm himself down. Once much calmer, he softly said to Gomer, "Sorry. I let anger get the best of me. I didn't mean to upset you."
The Private watched as Carter walked back, sitting on his desk.
"Please understand I didn't want to kiss him! He kissed me! I didn't know he was gonna..." Gomer panicked again before being cut off by Carter.
"Gomer..." Carter cut the Private off mid-sentence, "you didn't kiss him back?"
"N...no...I didn't want to."
This statement made Carter think back to what Boyle told him: Gomer was faithful to the Sergeant until the end.
"So you have nothin' to worry about. It wasn't your fault." Carter nervously chuckled, still noticing Gomer's faint expression.
The Sergeant looked down at Gomer's hand, noticing the ring Brandon gave him on his finger. He scrunched his face as he observed the piece of jewelry, "Where did you get that ring?"
"Oh...Sergeant Harris gave it to me. He said it was a 'friendship ring.'" Gomer explained.
All Carter could say was, "Uh huh..."
Once again, Gomer couldn't help but worry about what Carter might say. He was surprised that he even caught onto the ring on his finger. The Sergeant noticed Gomer's worried expression; he didn't need more stress piled on. All he needed was his love near him.
"Hey," Carter protectively embraced Gomer, "don't worry...I'm not mad at you. Okay?"
Gomer didn't answer except take in Carter's embrace. This hug was as if Carter was protecting Gomer from anything and anyone...especially Brandon. The sweet Private rested his chin on Carter's head and closed his eyes. He slowly felt Brandon's touch, and his lips disappear as he was embraced in his love's arms. The two stayed like that for what seemed to be 15 minutes when the Sergeant spoke, "Feelin' any better?"
The sweet Private quickly shot open his eyes, meeting his Sergeant's, "A lot better. Thank you."
The Sergeant smiled at him. Gomer's hands moved to Carter's broad shoulders, "Vince, would you be mad if I wanted to be removed from mess hall duty? Nothin' against Sergeant Harris, but I don't feel comfortable being alone with him after he kissed me."
"Hey, if that guy makes you uncomfortable, I'll see about moving you. I don't want to put you or any of my men in that position, especially you." Carter spoke.
The Private faintly smiled. Carter got up from his seat and again took Gomer into his arms, "Listen, no one will give you any more trouble, and I'll make sure of that. Would you like me to put Harris on a report? Or better yet, I'll make good on my word and kill him because I will do so by all means."
"Oh no! Please don't talk like that. I don't want you to get into trouble." Gomer pleaded.
Carter nodded his head, muttering a silent, "Okay..."
"Golly, I hope I'm not causing you any stress..."
"Gomer, relax! You aren't doin' anything! Take it easy!" Carter chuckled. "But in all seriousness, don't worry about anything. Go back to your quarters, rest up, and take it easy today."
Gomer smiled at Carter before leaning to kiss him. The kiss was filled with love and passion; neither party wanted it to end. When they pulled away, Gomer beamed at his love. Carter smiled, teasing, "Now, are those the lips you prefer kissin'?"
"Maybe..." Gomer teased back.
Carter laughed and walked to the door, opening it up for Gomer. Walking towards the door, Gomer turned to his love as Carter spoke, "Don't worry about nothin', you got it?"
"Yes. Thank you, Vince." The Private smiled.
Carter closed the door as Gomer walked out of the duty hut and back to his quarters. He couldn't help but rub his temples in utter frustration. How dare Brandon Harris. How dare he put his hands on Gomer. How dare he even look his way. Most of all, how dare he kiss those soft lips. The Sergeant walked towards his locker, opened it up, dug through his stuff until he found his old sketching pad from Korea. He opened it up, flipping the pages to find a drawing he did one night, which brought back a memory.
Korea Flashback
It was a relaxing night despite being in the middle of a war. As Carter sat on his bunk sketching, he looked up at saw some of the men playing a game of poker. Usually, he would be into a friendly game of poker, but tonight, he felt like drawing.
"Read 'em and weep, fellas." Said a young and overconfident Private Brandon Harris.
"You win...you always do." One of the men spat as he slammed his cards on the table.
"Don't let it upset you, Donovan," Louie spoke, placing his cards on the table. "I got nothing either."
"Who's up for another game?" Another guy in the game asked.
"You know I always am, Shapiro." Private Donovan responded as he puffed on his cigarette.
While Brandon shuffled the cards, Louie turned to look at Carter, watching him draw. He got up from his seat, causing the other three to look up.
"Hey, Louie, where you going?" Private Shapiro asked.
"You guys take the next hand. I'll be back." Louie got up, walking over to Carter, who was deeply engrossed in his sketchbook.
Brandon noticed this, staring intently at the two. The Italian American Private sat beside his love, eyeing the drawing, "What are you working on there?"
"Eh...just drawin'. Nothin' special." Carter replied as he picked up another colored pencil, shading in a section of his drawing.
Louie took a closer look, noticing Carter was drawing a snowy cabin.
"Is that...what I think it is?" Louie asked, smiling.
"What do you think it is?" Carter teased the handsome, blue-eyed Private sitting beside him.
"The cabin in Alaska we talked about?" Louie responded.
"Could be..." Carter replied. "You see since you keep talkin' about Alaska, I figured I'd draw out what our cabin might look like."
Louie watched as Carter shaded in a specific spot as he gushed, "You know, imagine living in the woods and cutting down a Christmas tree."
"Sounds nice," Vince replied, beaming.
"Just imagine the day when Alaska becomes part of the states." Louie brought up.
"That'll be the day." Carter chuckled.
"Hey, Louie! You playing or what?" Brandon impatiently called over to the Italian American Private.
Louie glanced toward Brandon, saying, "Yeah, just give me a few."
"Okay...now," Brandon ordered.
"Hey, Brandon, no one died and left you in charge! He said to wait on him!" Carter interjected.
This made the Bostonian Private glare at the young hazel-eyed Private Carter, who in return glare back.
"I cannot stand that guy," Carter muttered to Louie. "Just one of these days, I might pop him. Maybe not now, but one of these days."
In response, Louie placed a hand on Carter's shoulder. Shapiro interjected, "Say, Vince, why don't you play with us?"
"Thanks, Leonard, but I'd rather draw." Carter politely declined.
"That, and he knows I would beat him." Brandon joked.
It was safe to say that no matter what, Brandon always tried to get under Carter's skin. With that said, Carter placed his colored pencil and sketch pad down on the bunk while Donovan spoke up, "Sounds like a challenge to me, Vince."
"Oh, I'm pretty sure it was meant as an insult," Carter replied, walking over to the poker table and taking a seat across from Brandon.
Louie followed and sat beside Carter.
"I'm sorry to say this, Vince, but I would hate to have you lose to me," Brandon spoke. "You should save yourself the embarrassment and go back to your coloring."
"Just shuffle the cards, Harris," Carter spat.
While Brandon shuffled, Louie eyed Carter. Carter glimpsed over at Louie, then turned his attention to the card shuffling. Once all finished shufflings, Brandon slid Carter his five cards, staring at him with a blank look. Carter picked up his hand, observing the cards he had. When everyone got their cards, a new game began, with the men talking amongst each other. After what seemed to be forty-five minutes of playing several rounds, the men decided to start another one.
"Boy, are you sure you want to start another game?" Donovan chuckled. "I've had bad hands, one after another."
"Ready to give up, Donovan?" Brandon mocked as he shuffled the cards for another game. "I told you that no one can beat me. So who's up for another round? Leonard? Louie?"
"Count me in," Louie replied.
"Ditto," Shapiro added.
"How about you, Carter? Are you in or out, Vince?" Brandon asked.
"I'm in," Carter replied.
"Good," Brandon replied as he shuffled the cards, tossing them to each player.
As the men played their new game, Brandon smiled smugly to the men, placing his cards in front of them, "Well boys, looks like I won again."
"You got me beat again, Brandon." Shapiro placed his cards on the table.
"Yep. Same here." Donovan replied.
"I got nothing either." Louie placed his cards down. "What about you, Vince?"
Smiling smugly at his platoon mates, Carter put down a royal flush.
"Wow, a royal flush!" Shapiro cried out.
"Carter, you beat Harris." Donovan added, "Then again, you can top Harris in everything else, so what else is new?"
This comment alone set something off in Brandon. Shapiro called out to the other men, "You guys, Vince Carter got a royal flush!"
With that said, the men in the barracks stopped what they were doing, running over to see Carter's royal flush.
"Now, this is how you win a poker game, fellas. A royal flush." Carter spoke with pride.
"That's rare for anyone to get a royal flush. Good job, Vince." Louie stated, patting Carter on the thigh. "What can't you do?"
Carter smiled lovingly at Louie, unbeknown to the other men of the nature of their relationship...except Brandon, who shot a glare at the two. The Bostonian slammed his cards on the table, startling the other men.
"What the hell, Brandon?" Donovan asked.
Chuckling and not bothering to answer his platoon mate, Brandon decided to use this chance to make a scene, "Oh, Louie...you asked what can't Vince Carter do? What can't Vince Carter do?"
Taken aback, Carter eyed Louie.
"Of course, Vince can do it all...besting us in rifle range, besting all of us in boot camp...practically a pro in judo, because why not? There is something else you have to be better than me at."
"Where is this comin' from, Brandon?" Carter asked. "If this is over a card game, you oughta..."
"It isn't just about a card game, Vince. It's about you...how you love to be better than everyone here, and frankly, it's starting to piss me off."
"Brandon..." Louie tried to reason.
"Louie, let me handle it." Carter cut the blue-eyed Private off.
"Yeah, Louie. Let your golden boy speak for himself." Brandon snapped.
Taken aback, Louie was about to talk until Carter got involved, "First of all, Harris, I have no idea what I did to you to make you have it out for me, but the only thing I can suggest is that you get over yourself and stop blaming me for whatever issues you have goin' on in that crazy head of yours. Besides, I ain't any better than you; I push myself much harder, and by the looks of it...I suggest you try pushing yourself as well. Besides, is being a skilled sniper not enough for you?"
Brandon took in Carter's words, chuckling to himself. Whenever Brandon chuckled, it made the others anxious, "Oh Vince...you know what makes me happy? The fact that you are here."
"And why is that?" Carter asked.
"Because you being here is a constant reminder to me that there is one thing that you must've failed at...and that's art. Tell me, is all that talk of you getting a full ride to art school all bullshit to make yourself seem important?"
"Brandon..." Louie warned him.
"Shut up, Louie. I ain't finished." Brandon snapped, making the Italian American glare at him. "Why else would such a 'talented and gifted' artist be here? Unless someone told you that you aren't as good as you think."
Glaring at his rival, Carter responded, "You don't know one thing about me, Harris."
"Oh really? That's funny because don't think I can't see your little drawings and colorings because I see them. And if you were so good in art, you wouldn't even bother being here because you being here reminds me that you are nothing but a failed artist who joined the Marines because he will never live up to his full potential. Not even the galleries located in the slums would take your work."
The Bostonian ended his rant by throwing his losing hand at Carter. Enraged, Carter jumped on Brandon and shouted, "You son of a bitch!"
The two started going at it, riling the whole barracks up. Louie and Shapiro tried to pull Carter off Brandon, holding him back. Donovan helped Brandon up, who only threw him off, tackling Carter to the floor as they rolled around, punching and hitting one another, when all of a sudden, their Sergeant ran in, screaming, "Break it up! Break it up! Private Carter, Private Harris, are you kidding me? We're in the middle of a war, and the last thing I need is you two ass clowns fighting while there is an enemy we're trying to beat! Now both of you, cut it out!"
"Sorry, Sergeant Crawford." Carter softly replied, wiping the blood on his lip.
Sergeant Crawford, a 6-foot brunette with a strong body, glanced at Brandon, who didn't say anything. The Sergeant turned to Louie, saying, "Private Germanotta, take your battle buddy to get cleaned up. The rest of you, find something to do."
"Yes, sir." The men replied.
As Louie went to get Carter cleaned up, Sergeant Crawford looked at Brandon, "What did you do this time, Harris?"
"Right, because Vince is always innocent. Is that right, Sergeant?" Brandon asked sardonically.
"Harris, you are a well-known troublemaker, so don't think I don't know what happened. Now find something to do because I don't feel like coming back here." Sergeant Crawford spoke.
In response, Brandon glared at his Sergeant. Over in the latrine, Louie cleaned up Carter's face after the fight.
"Are you okay?" Louie asked as he wiped Carter's face with a rag.
"I'm fine." Carter chuckled. "If I had it my way, I would handle Harris the best way I know how."
Louie shook his head, "I wouldn't let him get to you. He's a character."
"You know what's funny?" Carter spoke as Louie cleaned him up, "Why me? I have nothin' worth bein' jealous over."
"You have things he wishes he had; you are kind, funny, a talented artist...you have a lot of good qualities about you that most wish they had. On top of that, I'm proud to call you mine." Louie explained.
Carter smiled at his love's words. Louie then placed the cold cloth on Carter's eyebrow as he winced in pain. Louie laughed, saying, "So your face won't swell up."
"Swell," Carter responded dryly.
Flashback ends...
Carter closed his sketch pad, then walked back to his desk, placing it on top of all the paperwork he was to complete. He then dialed up Colonel Grey's office. When someone answered on the other line, Carter said, "This is Sergeant Carter in Company B; I need to speak with Colonel Grey immediately."
In the intervening time, Duke and Boyle enjoyed freshly made doughnuts and hot coffee in the PX. The men often got jelly and cream-filled doughnuts once or twice a week, but since Sergeant Harris came to the base, there seemed to be doughnuts every day, to which the men, especially Duke, couldn't complain. As Boyle ripped his doughnut and dipped it into his coffee, he spoke to Duke, "You know, Slater, although I have my opinions of Sergeant Harris, I don't know what he has men in the mess hall doing, but these are the best-tasting doughnuts I've ever eaten."
"You're telling me," Duke spoke with his mouth full. "This is my third doughnut."
The Corporal made a face of disgust at Duke's eating habits; at this point, he wasn't sure who had worse table manners, Carter or Duke.
"I haven't noticed." Boyle chuckled.
"Hey, no need to be rude." Duke joked.
The Corporal shook his head, then changed the topic by saying, "So, Slater, how's your lady doing?"
"Al is doing well," Duke replied. "She's got two more days at the children's hospital before she starts at the infirmary."
"Right. Kathryn told me she was going to start working there." Boyle added. "You must love that."
"I like that I'm going to see her more often." Duke chuckled. "I always felt like we barely saw each other; the children's hospital had her working all sorts of hours."
Boyle smiled and nodded his head. Duke felt the need to ask, "How is Katie? Alana told me she hadn't been feeling well."
"Well, all I know is that Dr. Kreizler examined her, and she won't know how she is until the end of the week. Thankfully, she seems better today, yet she's still nauseous."
"You don't think it could be..." Duke was cut off.
"Could be what, Slater?" Boyle asked, almost nervous to hear what Duke thought.
"Uh...I was going to say a lingering stomach bug." Duke chuckled nervously. "Geeze, Corporal, you sound and look like you were about to get some horrible news."
"Right. Sorry." Boyle said, apologizing for his minor reaction.
"Usually, with symptoms like that, I would suggest a stomach bug," Duke added.
"I don't think stomach bugs last that long." Boyle shrugged. "Who knows? I know she's been craving doughnuts lately, so I'll save this one when I see her later."
As the Corporal wrapped his doughnut in a napkin, the goofy Private spoke up, "You know, Corporal, we should do this more often."
"I agree, we should." Boyle chuckled. "Ready to head back? I'm sure Vince and Pyle talked out whatever they needed."
"I'm ready...but first, I'm going to grab another doughnut," Duke replied as he got up.
"Slater, you already had three. You sure you aren't feeding for two there?" Boyle joked.
"Hey, mind your own eating habits, Corporal," Duke joked.
Boyle smirked and shook his head as he watched Duke walk to the doughnut station to grab one more doughnut. Once Duke grabbed his doughnut, he felt a hand tightly grip his wrist, "You've had three already, Slater! Why don't you save some for the rest of us!"
Duke looked up, only to see Brandon looking at him with a psychotic look.
"Uh...sorry, Sergeant Harris. I'll just put it down if..."
"Oh, you will put it down. What do you free-loading Privates think we do all day in the mess hall? Do you think we work our asses off to make sure you guys eat, only for us not to get any gratitude in return?" Brandon screamed.
"Look, Sergeant Harris, I won't take the doughnut! Just relax!" Duke talked back to Brandon.
"Who do you think you are, Private Slater? You might get away with talking back to your Sergeant, but you won't talk back to me! Is that clear?" Brandon screamed louder, causing a scene.
The Corporal stepped in, not liking where this was going, "Sergeant Harris, let Private Slater go!"
Brandon turned to face Boyle as he let go of Duke. The Private shook his wrist, watching Brandon get into Boyle's face, both angry sets of blue eyes staring each other down, "Or what, Corporal Boyle? Because if I were you, I'd mind your own business because this doesn't concern you."
"Private Slater is in my outfit, so it does concern me. Now, if you ever grab him or any of the men in Company B again..."
"You'll do what? Tell me, Corporal?" Brandon shot back.
Boyle shook his head, glaring at Brandon, "Let's go, Slater."
The Corporal turned his back and walked out of the PX as Brandon shouted, "That's what I thought, Corporal!"
Boyle turned to glare at Brandon before walking out the door. Duke picked up the doughnut he wanted and glared at Brandon as he aggressively bit into it, followed by a shoulder bump as he walked out of the PX. The Bostonian Sergeant was left shaking until he still felt all eyes on him. He turned to everyone staring at him, saying, "Did you all enjoy the show?"
Immediately, everyone got back to what they were doing. It was clear Brandon Harris was nuts, and no one wanted to mess with him. As Duke and Boyle walked out of the PX, making their way back to the duty hut, Boyle asked, "What was that about?"
"I have no idea. The guy is crazy." Duke responded.
Boyle eyed Duke eating another jelly doughnut, "Did you just grab another doughnut after all that?"
"Yeah, so?" Duke spoke with his mouth full.
The Corporal made a face as they walked.
*GC*
The Sergeant sat at his desk, observing his old sketches, as he heard Boyle and Duke making their way back to the duty hut, talking and laughing. The two new friends found their Sergeant in deep concentration with his sketch pad. Carter glanced up at them, "Did you two have fun?"
Boyle and Duke exchanged glances, then looked back at Carter.
"You okay, Vince? You look like you've seen a ghost." Boyle asked.
"Yeah...uh, Slater, can you give Boyle and me some privacy?" Carter asked Duke.
"Sure, Serge." Duke placed his cap on his head, leaving the duty hut. "Talk to you later, Corporal."
Boyle placed his leftover doughnut on his desk as Carter eyed it, "Midnight snack for later?"
"Nah...Katie is craving doughnuts, so I saved her the one I'm not going to eat," Boyle explained.
"She's nauseous but wants doughnuts?" Carter was confused.
"Don't ask." Boyle chuckled.
"So I see you and Slater have gotten close?" Carter mentioned as he shut his sketch pad.
"You jealous, Vince?" Boyle joked.
"Fuck you, Boyle." Vince spat, making them both laugh.
"So, in all seriousness, what's going on?" Boyle asked, eying the sketch pad. "And why haven't I seen that?"
"Oh, their old drawings from my days in Korea. I still look at it from time to time." Carter handed Boyle the sketch pad. "Here, go crazy."
Boyle smirked as he took the sketch pad from Carter and began skimming through the colorful drawings, "These are good, Vince."
"Thanks," Carter replied.
Boyle was looking at the drawing of the Alaskan cabin he and Louie were supposed to live in. As the Corporal observed the beautiful picture, Carter explained, "That was drawn before Alaska was made a state."
"Is it supposed to be Alaska?" Boyle asked.
"Yeah." Carter replied, "But anyhow, I removed Pyle from kitchen duty." Carter began to speak.
"Why? I thought he liked it. Don't tell me..." Boyle put the sketch pad down and looked up at his Sergeant.
"Harris made a move on him." Carter cut Boyle off.
"Are you serious?" Boyle asked.
"He kissed him last night while they were alone in the mess hall. Poor guy was thinkin' it was his fault. I oughta kill that guy now." Carter replied angrily. "But I won't because Gomer said not to make a big deal about it. So I just had him removed."
"Who will you get to replace him?" Boyle asked.
"I will figure it out," Carter responded. "You know what's weird?"
"What?" Boyle took a seat at his desk.
"Gomer was wearing a ring that he said Brandon gave to him. He claimed it was to 'solidify their new friendship,' but I have seen that ring before." Carter tried to explain.
"Maybe it's one of those coincidences; who knows?" Boyle replied, adding a shrug.
"I hope, Boyle, but when I get a bad feelin', I get a bad feelin'," Carter stated.
"You know, speaking of Harris," Boyle spoke up, "he made a scene in the PX. He got pissed because Slater grabbed another doughnut and started yelling at him. I have no idea what set him off, but I stepped in."
"Is Slater okay?" Carter asked, genuinely concerned for one of his men.
"He's fine, but you know Slater; he took a doughnut anyway." Boyle chuckled.
Carter scoffed at Boyle's statement. At that moment, the phone rang; the Sergeant picked up the phone, answering in a business like voice, "Company B, Sergeant Carter speaking..."
*GC*
Later that night, Brandon walked into his quarters, still cursing Duke and Boyle under his breath. Did he overreact in the PX? Maybe, but his rejection from Gomer was getting to him badly that he unintentionally took it out on Duke. How many turndowns could he take in his life? How much more? He hadn't felt that way since McGill, the Private in his outfit back in New York who killed himself. Was it he couldn't handle what went on between them? He dug through his wallet, opened it up, and took out the photo of Gomer. He looked at the picture, speaking to it in a low voice, "Why did you have to reject me? I've never felt this way about anyone else in a while. Had I not been rejected by the others, I probably wouldn't have had to take them the way I did. I don't want to have to take you in that way...now I'm starting to feel like I have no choice."
He stared at the photo of Gomer as his fingers made their way down his trousers, beginning to pleasure himself with the sight of the sweet Private, "When I first saw you, I got the gist that you were a virgin. That excites me more than anything. The others I've had weren't...but like me, they were useless trash. They couldn't handle being taken by me, so they killed themselves. Phillips, Lancaster, McManus, Hyde...and the most recent one, McGill..."
The phone rang, causing Brandon to break out of his thoughts. He placed the photo back into his wallet, ran over to the phone, and picked it up, "Hello, this is Sergeant Harris of Company C?"
"Sergeant Harris, it's Colonel Grey. Are you okay? You sound like..." the voice on the other line answered.
"I'm okay, Colonel; I was getting some pushups in. How can I help you, Colonel?" Brandon spoke, out of breath.
"Listen, I wanted to inform you on good authority that I will remove Private Pyle from the mess hall."
Taken aback, Brandon said over the other line, "I...I don't understand; Pyle is an asset to the mess hall. Without him, we wouldn't be behind with most of our duties."
What the Bostonian Sergeant said was a lie; he just wanted Gomer close. Colonel Grey replied, "I understand that you feel this way, but Private Pyle is one of Sergeant Carter's men, and this is what Sergeant Carter wants. If you want, feel free to discuss it with..."
"No...no need to. Thanks for the heads up." Brandon spoke calmly over the other line.
"Another thing, I have it on good authority that you acted out in the PX today. Is that true?" Colonel Grey asked over the phone.
Taken aback, Brandon stuttered with his words, "I...I was angry he took a doughnut when I saw him take three. I thought he was selfish, not saving any for the other men. I'm sorry about my outburst. It won't happen again."
"It better not because I do not want to get more reports like this. You're a Sergeant, and you should know better than to act like that."
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Brandon spoke as he clenched his fist.
"Alright. You have a good night, Sergeant Harris." Colonel Grey replied before hanging up.
Brandon hung up the phone, feeling anger build up inside him again. Why was Vince Carter trying to keep Gomer away from him? Was Vince the 'sweetheart' that Gomer was talking about? Out of anger, Brandon walked back to his bunk, opened up his nightstand drawer, and pulled out a pocketknife. Brandon opened up the knife, stabbing himself in the arm, wanting to feel the sharp pain, as he whispered, "Fuck you, Vince! Fuck you, Vince Carter!"
The knife pierced Brandon's flesh; he shut his eyes, wanting to feel the sharp blade cutting him. After he got his fill of the knife, The Bostonian Sergeant pulled it out of his arm, placed it on his bunk, then pulled out a cigarette, lighting it, and smoking quietly, deciding to clean up the wound later.
*GC*
That evening in town, the Bluebird Cafe was closing for the night when all the other waitresses talked about how Jenny had missed her shifts the past few days.
"It isn't like her." One waitress stated.
"Another customer asked where she was. I hope she didn't run off somewhere." Another joked.
"Maybe something happened, and she had to take off." Another waitress mentioned.
Erin Carroll, a much younger waitress, overheard the conversation, then said, "Well, I pass her apartment when I got home, so maybe I can stop by?"
"You do that, and please tell her that none of us are happy with her at the moment." Becky, another waitress, told Erin.
Once the cafe closed, Erin did what she had planned: stop by Jenny's apartment to see what was happening. As she walked up the steps and found the right apartment building number, she knocked on the door, calling, "Jenny? Hey, Jenny! It's me, Erin, from work!"
She got no answer, so she tried again, "Hey, Jenny! Are you in there?"
"I don't know about her, but all I know is that it's late, and you're making too much noise." A voice startled the young waitress.
Erin turned around to see a much older man, who she assumed might be the landlord of the building, staring at her. She said, "Look, Jenny is my friend at work, and none of us have seen her around for a few days. Is there any way you can let me in?"
"Huh? Why did she not show up to work? Her rent was due two days ago, and the last I saw her was with some tall, blonde Marine. He looked like trouble. Who knows, maybe she ran off with him? Why don't you come back and check tomorrow?"
Determined, Erin looked at the older man, saying, "I'm not going anywhere until I get inside."
A few seconds later, Erin and the building's landlord were inside Jenny's apartment. It was still dark, with just a dim light on.
"Jenny, I didn't want to have to do this, but I'm inside and..."
Erin stopped mid-sentence to see a sight that horrified her: her friend lying naked in bed, both wrists slit. The young waitress felt tears forming in her eyes as she cried, "Oh no...Jenny, no!"
*GC*
A couple of days later on the Camp, Company B was getting ready for their inspection, which meant every one of the men had to clean up the barracks, making it look tip-top.
"Just what we need before the weekend...another cleaning day and an inspection," Frankie grumbled as he scrubbed the table.
"You know, Frankie, Grandma Pyle always said, 'A clean room is a happy room, and a happy room makes a happy person.'" Gomer smiled.
"Oh, Gomer...I can't understand you." Frankie chuckled.
"No one can, Frankie," Duke added.
"You oughta take pride in your clean-up duties, Duke. They could come in handy one day." Gomer stated.
"Yeah, cleaning the barracks makes me want to go AWOL and not come back." Duke rolled his eyes as he made up his bunk.
"I should go AWOL." Gavin jumped into the conversation. "If I had it my way, I would take off out of here and fly anywhere. I hear Jamaica has nice beaches."
"You do that, Gavin, and I'll watch you go on report for AWOL." Duke joked.
"Oh fuck you, Duke." Gavin joked as he threw a dirty rag at him.
"I just read a shootin' star went over Montego Bay. I'm only sorry I missed it. I still haven't seen a shootin' star yet." Gomer stated.
"Gomer, we all know you won't give up until you find a shooting star." Perez chimed in. "Say, what will you do afterward once you find one?"
"I don't know...maybe find another shootin' star, or maybe find Halley's Comet. But I won't give up until I find that shootin' star." Gomer explained as he swept the floor away.
"Attention!" Boyle yelled.
At that moment, all the men got into attention. Carter and Boyle walked in, with Mendes and Jackson following behind.
"Come on, you two! Move it!" Boyle ordered Mendes and Jackson.
"Alright, as you see, these two clowns are back in our platoon. Just a few words before you continue: if I hear of any slip-ups, such as fights breaking out in the barracks, I will see into disciplinary action, which includes discharge from the service. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." The men answered.
"Mendes, Jackson, do you understand?" Carter asked them.
"Yes, sir." They both replied.
"As you were. I will be back in an hour for an inspection. Mendes, Jackson, after you get settled in, you are to report to Lieutenant Mayer."
"Yes, Sergeant," Mendes replied.
Once Carter and Boyle left the barracks, the men returned to cleaning while Mendes and Jackson opened up their lockers. Gavin attempted to converse with them, "Welcome back, you two...uh...how was retraining?"
"How do you think it went?" Mendes responded sardonically.
Gavin eyed his friends, mouthing, 'Okay then...'
As they were cleaning, Duke whispered, "Boy, just what we need."
Gomer made a 'shh' sound to Duke, adding, "Careful. He might hear you."
"I don't care. Let him hear me." Duke grumbled.
After an hour of the Privates cleaning and preparing for their inspection, Carter and Boyle returned to ensure everything was up to standard. So far, everything has gone as planned, with some flops and errors here and there.
"Perez, what's with the corners on that bunk? Get it together." Carter said sternly.
"Sorry, Sergeant." Perez softly said.
"Alright, what do we have here?" Carter spoke as he walked to Gavin's area.
"Attention!" Boyle shouted.
As Colonel Grey walked in with a beautiful woman, Carter and Boyle stood at attention.
"At ease." Colonel Grey ordered. "Sergeant Carter, Corporal Boyle, this is Detective Anette Hochstetter. She is here investigating a civilian waitress that went missing and was recently found murdered in her apartment. A Miss Jenny Rothstein."
At that moment, the other men in the barracks were shocked, especially Gomer. The men were muttering and mumbling amongst each other until Boyle yelled, "Attention!"
The Privates then stood at attention when Colonel Grey continued, "Sergeant Carter and Corporal Boyle, would you mind if Detective Hochstetter asks you a few questions?"
"Uh...sure, Colonel." Carter replied, then turned to the men, "Fellas, the inspection is delayed until further notice. Uh...do what you were doing before."
Once all the higher-ups left the barracks, the men talked amongst each other; some expressed grief, and others slammed their fists into their lockers. Gomer felt his legs numb as he sat straight down on his bed. Duke noticed this, sitting beside him quickly, "Gomer...you okay, pal?"
"M...Miss Jenny...how horrible." Gomer muttered.
His face was a mix of shock and terror at his friend being killed; it was the same look he had when he witnessed a wrecking ball fall on top of Carter's car. Frankie noticed Gomer start hyperventilating, "Gomer, take your inhaler."
The sweet Private didn't realize he was hyperventilating from shock. Duke quickly took out Gomer's inhaler, putting it to his lips, "Here, buddy. Take a puff."
As the Privates were helping Gomer get his breathing under control, Detective Hochstetter sat in the duty hut with Carter, Boyle, and Colonel Grey.
"So apparently, the waitress was friendly with the Privates on this base?" she asked.
"Well, yeah. The men would often go there on their downtime." Carter explained to the Detective.
"Would you say she was popular among the men in your outfit?" Asked the Detective.
"Pretty much," Carter answered. "She was already on a first-name basis with most of them."
"If you don't mind, Detective," Boyle spoke, "what does this have to do with any of the men?"
"According to Miss Rothstein's landlord, she was last seen entering her apartment with a Marine. He wasn't sure what rank he was, but he was dressed as a Marine. Just know we will be asking most of the men on the base who seemed to know Miss Rothstein on a friendly basis. Do you know anyone in your outfit who might have been friendly with her?"
Carter and Boyle exchanged glances when the Corporal muttered, "Pyle was..."
"Go grab Pyle," Carter told Boyle.
"Right." Boyle stood up, placed his cap over his head, and headed back to the barracks.
Back in the barracks, Gomer's breathing was under control as Duke rubbed his back. "
I can't believe someone would do that to Miss Jenny," Gomer spoke. "Terrible, terrible, terrible."
"You know, I just realized this is the second murder that has taken place in the city?" Perez mentioned.
"Now I'm starting to get worried that going on liberty might be risky."
"I don't blame you there. I feel like staying on the base until further notice." Gavin added.
Boyle walked into the barracks, saying, "Pyle, the detective wants to talk to you."
"To me?" Gomer asked as he stood up. "What did I do?"
"Nothing. She needs to ask you questions. You'll be okay." Boyle reassured him.
The sweet Private took one look at his friends, then followed Boyle. The Corporal had his hand on Gomer's shoulder. Duke looked at the other three, confused as to why the Detective was so interested in Gomer. Once they got to the duty hut, Gomer met eyes with the Detective, "Hello, Detective."
"Hello, Private. Please have a seat." Detective Hochstetter pointed to the chair next to Carter's desk.
"Yes, ma'am." The sweet Private complied as he eyed Carter, who gave him a look as if everything would be okay.
He took a seat, feeling all eyes on him, "So, Private, your Sergeant says you were pretty friendly with Miss Rothstein?"
"Why, yes, ma'am. She was a real fine waitress. She always used to serve my friends and me whenever we would go visit. Did you know she used to give me free pickles with my soda? She knew I loved pickles and..."
"When did you last see her?" asked the Detective again, who was starting to get somewhat impatient with Gomer's rambling.
"Oh...well, it wasn't too long ago. I would say last week. I was out with my best buddy, Duke, and we parted ways once we got into town. I went into a store to get a little somethin' for the party we will be havin'." Gomer explained. "That's when Sergeant Harris ran into me and joined me for lunch at the Bluebird Café. Jenny was our server that day."
Carter and Boyle exchanged glances at the mention of Brandon.
"She had a big crush on Sergeant Harris, you know. She turned red like a ripe tomato; when she saw him." Gomer explained.
"And Sergeant Harris is?" Detective Hochstetter glanced over toward Carter with a raised brow and asked him. "He's our temporary mess hall Sergeant. He's filling in for Sergeant Charlie Hacker." Carter answered.
"Another question for you, Private Pyle; do you know anyone named Gregory Plemons? He was a local college student who was killed not too long ago."
"Oh no, ma'am. I never met a feller with that name. But it is terrible what happened to him. His poor momma. I couldn't even imagine the hurt she is goin' through." Gomer responded.
The Detective writing in her notepad, looked up, "Where could I find this, Sergeant Harris?"
"Company C. Shall we take a walk over unless you have more questions with Private Pyle?" Colonel Grey asked.
"No, Colonel. I think I have all I need here." Detective Hochstetter replied. "Gentleman, thank you for your time. If you have any more questions, I will be sure to get back to you."
As Colonel Grey and Detective Hochstetter walked out of the duty hut, Gomer looked at his love, "Did I do okay?"
"You did fine." Carter helped Gomer to his feet.
"He's right, Pyle." Boyle countered. "You did great." Gomer smiled at his love and the Corporal.
Boyle turned to Carter, frowning, "You know what sounds nuts, Vince? Why do I get the feelin' that these murders are connected? I'm not sure about anyone else, but...that's just me."
Carter turned to face his Corporal, "I was just thinkin' the same thing, Boyle."
"Do you need anythin' else from me?" Gomer asked.
"Oh no...uh...you can return to your quarters," Carter told Gomer.
Gomer nodded his head, then left the duty hut. The Sergeant thought, 'Something doesn't sit right with this...'
"Vince, you okay?" Boyle asked.
"Chuck, I think I might have some time on my hands. Do you still have that article about the Marine who killed himself?" Carter asked.
"I don't think so. I put it in the trash." Boyle replied, much to Carter's dismay. "I got word from Slater that another Marine killed himself; it was someone he and Pyle knew a while back. Does the name Harry Phillips ring a bell?"
"Harry Phillips...he gave Gomer a hard time in basic training. He killed himself?" Carter asked.
"Apparently," Boyle responded.
Suddenly, everything didn't sit right with Carter. He rubbed his forehead, saying, "Boyle...I may not have proof, but I will get to the bottom of this."
While in Company C, Detective Hochstetter questioned Brandon in an empty mess hall. She asked him questions about Jenny, his knowledge of her, and how they met.
"According to the Private I spoke to," Detective Hochstetter started, "he said she seemed to have a crush on you...often getting flustered when you came to the Bluebird Café. Was that the extent of your relationship with Miss Rothstein?"
Blowing out the smoke from his cigarette, Brandon answered the Detective, "Well...I admit, did I think she was cute when I first saw her? Yes. Then again, who wouldn't think a dame like that was easy on the eyes."
"But did you..."
"Go any further with her?" Brandon cut the Detective off. "If you want to know so badly, yes. I went home with her after her shift; we had our ways with each other, and I told her that I didn't want to see her anymore because I got what I needed already, and I was in love with someone else, which the honest to God truth. She couldn't handle rejection. Dames like that are overly emotional; I'm sure you would understand." Brandon answered.
The Detective raised a brow at what the man had said. "So you think every woman gets overly emotional?"
Brandon nodded his head with a smile on his lips, "All women get like that." He told her with a more significant smile, then added. "I'm sure that you get like that all the time."
Colonel Grey looked over at the young woman that was standing beside him. The young woman raised a brow, then smiled at the man before them, "I do, but it is rare for me to get like that. You may think you know what women are like… like many men… but you don't. You see.."
As she leaned in closer to the man, she said, "90% of women know what kind of man is in front of them. They noticed how the man is dressed, how he speaks, and how he acts… Like now, I see a man that is arrogant and prideful. He comes off as a nice and charming prince, but who is a snake in the grass ready to strike."
The Detective smiled as she saw the man across her tighten his jaw. With another smile, she said, "And I see a man that thinks every man and woman would fall over themselves to have him… but we both know that will never happen."
His eyes widened as the Colonel listened to the young woman beside him. He looked away from her and over toward Brandon, who was showing anger toward the woman in front of him. Glancing toward the Colonel, Brandon looked away from the woman Detective but looked back when she spoke again, "But, getting back to the case, are you saying that Miss Rothstein possibly killed herself to gain sympathy?"
Brandon shrugged, then replied, "I'm not saying it isn't possible. I've seen what these crazies do."
"How do you define 'crazy' exactly, Sergeant Harris?" Asked Detective Hochstetter, who was starting to dislike the man in front of her.
"However you like, Detective," Brandon replied, putting out his cigarette.
"Now, I asked the other Private this, but does the name Gregory Plemons sound familiar to you?"
"Why should it? Are you implying something?" Brandon asked in a calm voice, the type that gave one chill.
"Why would I imply anything?" Detective Hochstetter asked as if letting Brandon know he didn't scare her.
"Because I know what you detectives are like, sweetheart..."
"Detective!" Said Detective Hochstetter, who didn't take kindly to being called 'sweetheart.' "You will address me as 'Detective.'"
"Right...' Detective.' I know what you people are like...always getting involved in a case, then accusing those around you, thinking you know all the answers to what may or may not have happened. It's pretty pathetic, and I feel sorry for you. Can I go back to the mess hall if you have no questions, or do you wish to accuse me of something I didn't do, which is what I assume you spent your life doing?"
Frustrated at his arrogance, Detective Hochstetter closed her notepad, answering sternly, "Thank you for your cooperation, Sergeant."
The lovely Detective watched Brandon walk back into the kitchen, leaving her beside herself.
She shook her head, muttering, "Arroganter Bastard."
"You okay, Detective?" Colonel Grey asked.
"Perfectly fine." Detective Hochstetter replied.
*GC*
The base had been solemn and gloomy as night fell upon hearing the news of Jenny's murder. Boyle decided to step out with his friend on the base, leaving Carter in the duty hut to do work; it was as if work distracted him from the death of the base's favorite waitress. Duke walked in as Carter looked up, "How can I help you, Slater?"
"Uh...I just wanted my pass for the evening." Duke replied.
"Oh, sure." Carter took a pass out of his desk, handing it to Duke. "Have fun."
"Thanks, Serge," Duke spoke.
As he turned a heel, he remembered he had to tell Carter something. As he faced his Sergeant, he said, "Hey...Gomer has been out of sorts all day. This news of Jenny threw him off. Hell, it threw all of us off. I just wanted to let you know."
"Send him in before you leave," Carter instructed.
"Yes, sir," Duke answered, walking out of the duty hut.
The Sergeant returned to work when he heard a voice, "Vince? You wanted to see me?"
Carter looked up to meet Gomer's eyes. Those brown eyes were filled with sadness over his friend's death.
"Come in." Carter put his pen down on his desk and got up. "Shut the door, please?"
The Private did as instructed and walked over to Carter. The Sergeant held Gomer in his arms as if trying to soothe his pain.
"I don't understand how this could happen. Poor Miss Jenny." Gomer sadly stated.
"I know, Gomer. I know..." was all Carter could say.
"Where is Corporal Boyle?" Gomer asked.
"He went out with Corporal Dombrowski to the restaurant that almost killed me." Carter chuckled, trying to make light of how Gomer was feeling.
Nothing seemed to work; Gomer was just sad all around. The Sergeant took his hand, walking them back to the extra bunks. Carter laid down first, bringing Gomer with him. He could tell his love just needed to be held. Once they were in one another's arms, the two were silent, taking in all that had happened today. Gomer stared at the glowing moon from out the window; he then felt the Sergeant kiss his temple, bringing him closer to him.
Meanwhile, downtown, Duke had visited Alana at her apartment. She answered when he knocked on the door, noticing the look on his face.
"Why are you so forlorn?" she asked.
"Something happened downtown, and we just found out today," Duke explained.
"Well...come on in." Alana let Duke inside her place.
Once in her apartment, he placed his cap on the coffee table, took a seat, and explained how everyone's favorite waitress was found dead; Alana could only gasp in horror. He described how everyone, including Gomer, were affected by it since she was the face they would always run into whenever they visited the Bluebird Cafe.
"Wow...Gilbert, honey, I'm sorry..." Alana spoke to a solemn Duke.
"Thank you, baby doll." Duke softly replied. "Everyone on the base has been depressed. We all liked Jenny."
Alana placed her head on Duke's shoulder and a hand on his knee, "How is Gomer doing? I remember you told me he was especially acquainted with her."
"He's devastated. Poor guy." Duke explained. "I can say this, we all knew she preferred Gomer best; her face lit up whenever she saw him walk in. She always told the rest of us he was her best customer. I'll never admit it, but we were all jealous of that."
Alana made a sad face, "Poor Gomer. You know, she was sweet when I met her. I remember when she called me 'cutie' before taking my order. She did not deserve to die. I'm only sorry I didn't know her beforehand."
"Yeah..." Duke muttered, then placed his arm around his love, bringing her close to him. "Honey, I appreciate you for being here."
"Of course!" Alana responded, turning Duke's head to face her as he planted a soft kiss on his lips.
Duke faintly smiled at Alana.
"How about I make you a drink?" The New York beauty suggested.
"Thanks. I could use one." Duke replied.
Alana stood up from her couch, walking over to her mini-bar in her dining room. She poured herself and Duke a glass of Highland Park scotch. The Private watched her; she was so lovely to look at, even when pouring the manliest of drinks; he watched as she prepared their drinks with an ice cube, slowly pouring the expensive scotch into their glasses. She then topped it off with an orange and cherry. All Duke could think of was, 'I'm going to marry her.'
Once the drinks were prepared, she returned to the couch and handed Duke his glass, "Here you go, love."
"Thank you, baby doll," Duke replied as he took his glass. "Well...here's to Jenny...the finest waitress at the Bluebird Cafe."
"To Jenny, the waitress." Alana clinked her glass against Duke's, then took a sip.
When Alana slowly sipped her whisky, Duke couldn't help but eye her, impressed that she drank such a potent liquor in the classiest manner. She put her glass on a table coaster, looking up at Duke, "You feeling better, liebchen?"
"Yes. You're incredible, Al, you know that?" Duke said to her.
The two shared another kiss, tasting the liquor on each other's lips. Alana took his glass, placing it on the drink coasters. Once she had done that, she moved herself to sit on Duke's lap, her legs on each side, and her hands on his shoulders, while his free hands fell on her waistline.
"Honey, I love you, and I'm always going to be there for you. You don't have to thank me for anything." Alana reassured Duke.
"I know; I can't help but appreciate you," Duke responded.
Alana lowered her lips to Duke, their soft kiss turning hot and heated. Before they realized it, they were making love on her couch.
Back on the base, Carter held Gomer near as Gomer napped in his love's arms. The sweet Private's eyes fluttered open; the glowing moonlight reflected against the window was enough to wake him up. The Sergeant spoke into the Private's ear, "You feeling better?"
"A little..." Gomer replied, turning over to look into his love's eyes. "The nap sure helped."
Silence fell into the air, with the only sound was their breathing.
"What are you thinking?" Carter asked, brushing his thumb against Gomer's soft cheek.
"It's silly, but I'm thinkin' about what Gavin said today; he said that he wanted to visit Jamaica, and it reminded me that Jamaica had a shootin' star, and I'm sad I didn't get to catch one. I miss star gazin', and I want to do it again." Gomer explained.
"I promise to take you back. Things just have been crazy here lately. We have all summer." Carter replied.
"Where? To Jamaica?" Gomer asked, smirking.
"No stargazing." Carter chuckled, making Gomer smile.
They sat in silence until Gomer spoke again, "Vince, did you bring me here because you can see the moon best from here?"
"Yeah." Carter smiled. "I thought you would like it."
That was the half-truth; he didn't tell Gomer he had something else in mind. The Private stared at the moon, taking in the glow, how the light reflected off the window. The Private found himself lost in the moonlight until he felt Carter taking his hand, kissing the top of it.
"What was that for?" Gomer asked.
"No reason...can't I kiss your hand?" Carter chuckled.
The sweet Private bashfully smiled at his love, "I like when you kiss me. It makes me smile."
"Want me to do it again?" Carter asked playfully.
Gomer didn't even have to answer. Instead, he pulled Carter into him, their lips meeting. They were lost in each other's lips, not caring about anything else. Carter moved his lips to Gomer's neck, kissing and licking that sensitive spot that drove the Private crazy. Gomer softly moaned as he gripped Carter's shoulders. As much as Carter wanted to go further, he didn't want to make Gomer uncomfortable but took his time pleasuring him in the best way he knew how. His hand went up Gomer's white shirt, feeling how soft his skin was underneath.
Gomer replied with a soft moan when he felt Carter tracing his tongue along the most sensitive part of his neck, feeling his smooth, pale skin. It was then apparent to the sweet Private what Carter wanted by how he was touching him and how he tried to undo his pants. Out of nervousness, Gomer began to panic, "Vince...I ain't ready..."
The Sergeant stopped what he was doing, staring down at Gomer. He saw the look in his eyes that he genuinely didn't want to go further than they already were.
"I'm sorry..." Carter softly responded. "I didn't realize I was starting to get ahead of myself."
It was true; when Carter dated women, both parties were often very physical and would jump at the chance to bed one another. Gomer wasn't like that. He had been a virgin for a long while but wanted to take his time and wait. As the two sat up, Gomer responded, "I understand. I hope you ain't mad."
"I'm not. Stop worryin', will ya?" Carter laughed.
Gomer bashfully smiled, "To be fair, I never said I don't want to do it. I ain't ready yet...maybe by Thanksgivin', I might be."
Carter smirked at Gomer. Thanksgiving seemed a long time, but Gomer was worth the wait.
"So what do we do until then?" Gomer innocently asked.
"Well...until then," Carter laid back down, pulling Gomer into him, "we can just be like this and look at the moon."
"I'd like that," Gomer replied sweetly.
The two lovers kissed, then continued to lay on the bunk, holding one another, agreeing not to get physical until Thanksgiving...or whenever Gomer felt ready.
What they didn't know was that they were being spied on. Brandon was peeking through a small vent on the other side of the window. He caught the lovers embracing on a bunk, sharing multiple kisses, and staring at one another with looks of love.
The Bostonian Sergeant couldn't handle watching it anymore, so he walked back to his quarters, hyperventilating and his fists clenched so hard that he could feel his nails cutting through the skin. The moment he stepped inside, he turned on his transistor radio and sat on his bunk, feeling the anger slowly start to rise inside him. When he shut his eyes, all he heard on the radio playing was the Association's 'Cherish.' Taking in the music, the Bostonian Sergeant clenched his fists tightly, imagining the thought of Vince Carter on top of Gomer, kissing him, touching him, holding him when it should've been him doing that. Once again, Vince Carter took something that was supposed to be Brandon's. He then stood up from his bunk and began punching the wall of his quarters, getting out the anger that he felt inside, imagining that he was beating Sergeant Carter for "stealing" Gomer away when he was supposed to belong to him, as the music played a sad and beautiful melody.
*GC*
The following week, the base went about its usual duties. Alana started her new position in the infirmary, much to Duke's excitement. On the other hand, Katie still felt the same but managed to come to work. While giving a patient his blood, Alana walked into the room, knocking on the door. Katie turned to face Alana, smiling at her.
"Hallo, Schwester Katie." Alana cheerfully greeted.
"Dr. Kreizler has you speaking German." Katie smiled as she gathered the pint of blood she needed from her sick patient.
"Well, he has me speaking it more than I ever have," Alana stated.
Katie chuckled, then turned to her patient, "Okay, Private Monroe. I'll see you in a few hours."
Private Monroe, a younger Private, who had been admitted, looked at Alana and Katie, grinning, "Well, isn't this my lucky day? Two beautiful nurses to grace me with their presence in my room."
Both Katie and Alana exchanged glances and chuckled.
"Thank you, Private Monroe, but we are both spoken for by Private Slater and Corporal Boyle." Alana smiled.
"That's a shame. You know where to find me if things don't work out between Slater and Corporal Boyle." Private Monroe flirted.
Katie scoffed and shook her head, "Get some rest, Private."
As they left the room, Alana turned to Katie, "Now that I have you here, I wanted to tell you that Dr. Kreizler wants to see you in his office when you get the chance."
"Did he say why?" Katie asked, making a perplexed face.
"No, but he told me to inform you," Alana stated.
Katie nodded and smiled, deciding to change the topic, "I wanted to say you are excelling, and I'm almost happy I didn't have to train you much."
"Well, being I've done this for five years, it isn't much different. Although the men here are much bigger babies than the actual babies I dealt with." Alana joked.
Katie laughed, then rubbed her temples, bringing her friend to concern, "How do you feel?"
"About the same. Sometimes I'm okay; sometimes I feel like I just ate undercooked chicken." Katie admitted.
"Does Corporal Boyle know?" Alana asked.
"I'm trying not to worry, Chuck, so I haven't said much. Do you know what's strange? I've been craving the strangest foods, foods I don't normally eat. For instance, I wanted doughnuts more than ever, and I've never been a fan of doughnuts; in fact, I've never been a sweet tooth except for Angel Food Cake. But I've been eating pickles more than usual; my fridge is filled with three jars of pickles. I've also been very thirsty, and I've been drinking so much water more than usual."
Taking in this information, all Alana could say was, "Uh huh...well, pickles are always delectable, especially when you are in the mood for them. Listen, do you want me to come with you to see Dr. Kreziler?"
"I'll be fine. Thank you." Katie smiled, handing Alana her clipboard. "Could you please check on the patient in room 24?"
"Of course!" Alana replied as she walked off.
Katie entered Dr. Kreizler's office, knocking on the door. He immediately looked up, meeting eyes with the beautiful dark-skinned nurse.
"Come on in, Schwester!" he happily greeted her.
Complying, Katie walked in and shut the door behind her. She walked over to the seat across the doctor's desk, making herself comfortable. Dr. Kreizler observed her condition, saying, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay. Like I told Nurse Alana, I feel okay sometimes, but like I ate something rotten."
Dr. Kreizler nodded, then pulled out a folder, "Well, I have the results from your examination if you want to know."
"You do? Well, that was quick." Katie chuckled. "So what do they say about my symptoms?"
The doctor took a deep breath as he opened his folder, which only made Katie nervous, "Schwester...I know this may shock you, but...it seems you are pregnant."
*GC*
Gomer rehearsed the songs he would be singing at the party, which was coming up in two weeks! These rehearsals went on longer than usual, and they were starting to play with the Marine Corps band. The sweet Private sang his heart out in rehearsal, imagining a specific person was watching him sing, especially when he sang 'In Dreams.' After what seemed to be three hours of rehearsal, Sergeant Cunningham said, "Great job, everyone, especially you, Private Pyle."
"Thank you, sir," Gomer replied sweetly.
"Alright, everyone, after chow, we'll assemble tomorrow at the same time." Sergeant Cunningham said. "That's a wrap for tonight."
As everyone cleared the rehearsal hall, Gomer walked out, realizing he had forgotten his music sheet.
"Gosh, I left my music inside," Gomer told Sergeant Cunningham.
"Go get it and then lock up, please?" Sergeant Cunningham spoke.
"Yes, sir." Gomer smiled. "Have a goodnight!"
All Sergeant Cunningham did was wave and walk back to his quarters. The sweet Private made his way back into the rehearsal hall, walking over to the easel on which his music sheets sat. His folder lay on top of the piano that Joey was playing on. As he placed his music back into the folder, he heard slow clapping from the doorway. Gomer turned around to find Brandon clapping, a sinister-like smile plastered across his face.
"Oh...hey there, Sergeant Harris." Gomer greeted.
"My, oh, my, Private...that was quite the performance you put on there. I swear you could make Jay Black or Roy Orbison jealous."
Gomer made an 'O' shape with his mouth as he softly muttered, "Oh?" Then again, I did mention how you were one of the best singers I've seen in a while." Brandon stated.
"Uh...thank you. How did you know I was here? This was a..."
"Closed rehearsal? Oh, Pyle, I have my ways...I have my way around certain places, which is something I don't like to admit to people." Brandon responded as he slowly walked towards Gomer. "But, I can trust you, even after your rejection."
The sweet Private was unsure why Brandon acted unusual, but he didn't like it.
"Are you okay, Sergeant Harris? I told you I was sorry and already had a sweetheart." Gomer timidly asked.
The Bostonian Sergeant looked up at Gomer, his blue eyes meeting Gomer's brown ones, "Gomer...can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Gomer replied. "Anythin', sir."
"Do you know what abandonment feels like?" Brandon started. "I mean, I would assume so since you told me your mother didn't want you. How your father died, and she saw you as an inconvenience. Kinda hurts, wouldn't you say?"
"I...I suppose so. But I don't let it bother me." Gomer answered.
"But you were happy, right?" Brandon asked Gomer, who just nodded in response.
The Bostonian Sergeant then laughed, "Who am I kidding? Of course, you were happy! Grandma and Grandpa Pyle just spoiled you with anything you wanted! No money came from your family, but you were sure as hell spoiled sweet! Because why wouldn't they get you a telescope for being a good boy? Why wouldn't you get a puppy or a kitten for being such a good boy?"
Confused, Gomer replied, "I...I don't follow..."
"You want to know what life was like for me, Gomer? I grew up in the poorest section of Boston. For Christmas, all I got was one year as an orange because we were so poor we couldn't afford Christmas gifts. My old man didn't know how to hold a job because he would drink and argue with his boss. One year, I asked my father if Santa was coming, and you know what he did? Tell me...you want to know what happened next?"
Gomer, speechless and confused, shook his head when Brandon chuckled, "Of course, you have no idea. He slapped me across the face and said, 'Santa doesn't come for little shits like you.'"
"I'm sorry that happened..." Gomer timidly spoke before being cut off again.
"Then my family home catches on fire. What happened next was that I was sent to the foster system because why not? Why not dump off unwanted children in foster care?"
Gomer still didn't follow, but all he knew was that Brandon was starting to step closer to him. This made the sweet Private nervous. Was Brandon going to hurt him?
"Sergeant Harris, I'm sorry this happened to you, and trust me, it hurt when momma didn't want me. Trust me, I know. But I should be grabbin' my music and headin' back to my barracks before Sergeant Carter knows I'm not there on time. Plus, Sergeant Cunningham needs this room locked." Gomer explained, grunting as he bumped into the wall.
He was cornered, with nowhere to run. The Bostonian Sergeant blocked Gomer's way of getting free. They were almost chest to chest; Brandon felt excitement below the waist come about, especially how Gomer's face was full of fear. To the Private's horror, he felt Brandon's excitement against his leg, fearing the worst.
"But do you know what was more hurtful? I was moved from foster home to foster home...no one wanted me; I was your typical damaged goods. By the time I aged out of the system, I had joined the Marines because I had nowhere to turn; my foster family kicked me out. Then I encounter you...the most beautiful man I've ever seen. After hearing you sing, I knew what I felt when I first saw you. It wasn't enough for me to tell you how I felt because you rejected me. That's right; you reject me...telling me you have a sweetheart, only for me to find out, it's Vince Carter...someone I've held disgust for since my days in Korea."
Gomer was mum, not knowing what to say to improve the situation. All he knew was that Brandon was looking at him with angry eyes. Brandon continued, "You know how much it pained me to see you in his bunk...his lips on you while you moan out his name?"
"You saw us?" Gomer was surprised at this bit of information.
"All I have ever been since I've gotten here was nice to you...the most you could've shown me was a little appreciation." The Bostonian Sergeant held onto Gomer's wrist.
"Sergeant Harris, please..." Gomer's voice was terrorful, especially when Brandon grabbed him by the wrist, causing the Private's face to pale like a ghost.
"Please, what, Gomer? What are you saying please for?" Brandon squeezed Gomer's wrist tightly.
"Sergeant Harris, you're hurtin' me!" Gomer winced in pain, feeling the pain the blonde was causing him.
"Oh, I'm hurting you? I'm hurting you? You reject me, and I'm hurting you? You have no idea what hurt is, Gomer! Hurt is being rejected repeatedly, and you want to talk about hurt?"
For the first time in his duties with the Marines, Gomer felt fear come over him; was someone he considered a friend going to hurt him? Brandon looked down at Gomer's finger, saying, "What happened to the ring I gave you? Does our friendship not mean anything to you?"
"Well, I was on detail; I didn't want to wear it in case it got lost..." Gomer winced as Brandon squeezed his wrist tighter.
"You didn't wear the ring? The ring I gave you!" Brandon screamed.
"Let go of him!" A voice called out.
*GC*
It was late, and Carter noticed that Gomer had yet to return from rehearsals.
"Rehearsal ended 15 minutes ago. Where the hell is he? Or what is he doing?" Carter asked.
They may have been running over than usual. Or maybe Gomer wanted to get some solo practice in while no one was watching. He decided to call Sergeant Cunningham to check on Gomer.
"Company A, Sergeant Cunningham speaking." a voice answered.
"Jack, it's Vince," Carter spoke.
"What can I do you for, Vince?" Cunningham asked.
"Listen, did Pyle ever leave rehearsal? He should've been back by now." Carter explained over the phone.
"Uh...Pyle said he forgot his music. I'm not sure; I figured he should've been back by now. Why? Did he not return?" Cunningham asked.
At that second, Carter had a bad feeling. Was something wrong with Gomer?
"Vince? Vince? Hello?" Cunningham spoke.
Carter shook his head, "Uh...thanks, Jack. I'll see ya tomorrow." Carter hung up, placed his cap on his head, and walked out the door, making his way to the rehearsal hall. When he got there, he saw the lights still on. The Sergeant ran inside, only to find Brandon cornering Gomer against the wall and holding his wrist tightly. Immediately, he sprung into action, yelling, "Let go of him! Let go of him, now!"
Brandon turned around to see Carter staring dangerously at him. Gomer couldn't be more relieved to see his love there. Brandon let Gomer go as Carter grabbed Brandon by the shoulders, pinning him against the wall, while his arm was pushed against the Bostonian Sergeant's neck, "You son of a bitch! How dare you touch him! Don't think I don't know what went on in the mess hall! I oughta kill you! I..."
"Vince, stop! He ain't worth it! Please, Vince, stop!" Gomer cried as he tried to remove his love from Brandon.
Carter quickly gave Gomer a side eye, then glared back at Brandon, who smiled as if he was enjoying this. Gomer was right; this guy wasn't worth it. The Sergeant let Brandon go, saying to Gomer, "Go back to your quarters, Pyle. That's an order."
"Right." Gomer softly replied, exiting the rehearsal hall with his music folder in his arms.
Once alone, Carter stared Brandon down in a threatening manner.
"You know you shouldn't have done that, Vince," Brandon said, smiling like a madman.
"Done what? Protect one of my men from scum like you?" Carter walked closer to Brandon, practically in his face. "Had Gomer not been here, I would've enjoyed finishing you off."
"Just like some gook sniper did to Louie in Korea? Is that what you mean by finishing off?" Brandon countered, mocking Carter's pain in losing the man he once loved.
Enraged, Carter said to Brandon through gritted teeth, "You keep Louie's name out of your mouth. Do you hear me, you worthless piece of shit? You don't speak of Louie...ever."
"'Worthless?' That's all you can call me is 'worthless?' I've been called 'worthless' my entire life, and for a Sergeant, I'm surprised that's the best you can do." Brandon mocked. "Seriously, Vince, I'm not sure what's weaker, that insult...or you?"
Not saying anything in response, Carter chuckled, like he had done when being scammed by a con man who targeted service men by threatening suicide, then telling them a pathetic sob story.
"You know what's funny?" Carter spoke, throwing Brandon for a loop. "I would take the time out of my day and have a field day beating guys like you to a pulp. But Pyle was right...you ain't worth it. But what's funnier is that you think I don't know what you're up to." Carter said.
"What the hell are you on about?" Brandon asked.
"Ever since you got here, all this weird stuff has been happenin', and I'm not sure how to put my finger on it...but I feel you're behind everything that's going on." Carter said, noticing the look on Brandon's face change from smugness to a blank expression. "I may not have any proof of what happened, but I will tell you that you are part of this bizarre turn of events we've been having. So unless you want to live to see another day outside Leavenworth, you will stay away from Pyle."
Making his peace, Carter walked out of the rehearsal hall, leaving Brandon by himself, standing by the piano, tightening his fists as his nails dug into his palms, as blood came to the surface; the encounter with Carter just made him angrier than he was already, causing him to scream to himself, letting out the anger he was feeling. Once he got that out, he hyperventilated, shaking from his rage.
In the interval, Carter had made it back to the duty hut; he saw Gomer sitting on his bunk as if waiting for him.
"You waited for me?" Carter asked.
"Well...yeah..." Gomer bashfully replied.
Carter smiled until he looked down at Gomer's wrist, "Shit...how hard did he squeeze your wrist?"
"Oh, it ain't so bad." Gomer tried to be positive, despite his wrist being bruised.
The Sergeant felt nothing but rage as he observed Gomer's bruised wrist. Gomer spoke up, worried about Carter, "Vince, are you okay?"
"Yeah, but...let's get an ice pack for that," Carter answered.
The two sat in the duty hut as Carter iced Gomer's wrist. Sure the other men were in their barracks, sleeping away, but Carter didn't care.
"It's good I found you," Carter spoke. "I don't want to know what he would've done. Does it hurt?"
"Not really. Just stings a little." Gomer answered, wincing at the ice pack against his skin. "This is somethin' Grandma Pyle used to do whenever I got hurt. I never liked the feelin' of cold packs against my skin."
"Well, to prevent swelling, we better have put ice on." Carter chuckled as he held onto Gomer's wrist.
The two sat in silence, taking in the darkness of the duty hut, with only a lamp to provide any light. The Sergeant sat silently, making Gomer a little concerned, "Are you sure you're okay?"
Carter shook out of his thoughts, saying, "Yeah...I'm just happy I got there in time."
"You was right about him. I didn't think of him as a mean fella, but I was scared Sergeant Harris could've hurt me. I don't want to admit it to the other fellas because...well...don't you have to be brave to be a Marine?"
"Trust me; I've been scared plenty of times." Carter chuckled to himself. "I just don't tell anyone; it wouldn't be a good look on a Sergeant, after all."
Gomer chuckled lightly, deciding to change the topic, "I wish we was goin' together to the General's party."
"I know. I don't have a date." Carter stated. "Out of curiosity, did you find someone to go with?"
"Duke and Miss Alana," Gomer answered honestly. "They both invited me to go with them. Why do you ask?"
"Just asking." Carter chuckled with a shrug.
"But I do mean it...I wish it was you I was takin'." Gomer stated.
Carter smirked at his love as he continued to ice Private's bruised wrist.
"Can we at least share a dance when it's over?" Gomer asked.
The Sergeant glanced at Gomer, "I didn't want to say anything, but I was sort of plannin' that; it's funny you brought that up."
Gomer bashfully smiled. At that very moment, Carter started feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time. He wasn't sure how to say it or even sure it was that feeling he was beginning to think in the first place...or was it? Was this feeling much stronger than when he first felt it or was it just his mind making him think so? Whatever he felt, all he knew was that he wanted Gomer by him.
"Vince, I think my wrist is feelin' better," Gomer stated with a cute smile.
"Oh...well...okay. You can head on to bed. We have a big day of drills tomorrow, so I need you well-rested." Carter awkwardly said.
"Right." Gomer stood up from his chair.
Putting on his cap, Gomer felt Carter bring him closer, "I kept my word in wantin' to protect you."
"I know you did, and I appreciate it," Gomer stated.
Carter nodded, knowing this feeling was starting to come back, and it was for someone new. The two shared a quick goodnight kiss before Gomer walked out of the duty hut and into his barracks. Once out of sight, Carter heard a voice speak to him.
Remind you of anything?
'When you cleaned me up after I got into a fight in Korea.'
Exactly.
'Yeah...'
You feel strongly for him.
'Uh...I didn't say that.'
You don't have to. I can tell.
'Yeah, but...'
It doesn't matter...I made you promise me when I died that you were to find someone else...and here he is, the man I brought to you.
'Louie, I hope you know what you are doin' because I sure as hell don't.'
You know what to do, Vince, but you are just as stubborn as a mule. Trust me on this.
Carter rubbed his forehead, frustrated that he was starting to go through this previous feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. The thought stressed him out and even scared him a little. The Sergeant switched into his t-shirt and shorts, then climbed into bed, sleeping with the thought of the sweet Private on his mind.
*GC*
A couple of days after the incident, Carter and Boyle walked to the mess hall for breakfast. The Corporal noticed how Carter was bent on figuring out what happened with the deaths of the other Marines, plus the two deaths in town, "Did you figure out anything yet?"
"Nothing yet, Chuck," Carter answered.
"Remember an article a year ago saying how some Lance Corporal killed himself in Santurce, Puerto Rico?"
"Who goes to Puerto Rico to kill themselves?" Carter asked Boyle.
"Beats me." Boyle shrugged. "What's ironic, Harris talked about a trip he and a buddy took to Puerto Rico."
"Did he mention anything else?" Carter asked.
"Nah. He just went on about how beautiful the women were." Boyle responded.
"Huh." Carter thought to himself. "I'm still stickin' to my theory, Chuck."
"But how can you prove it?" Boyle asked.
The Sergeant eyed Boyle, not answering. Once in the mess hall, they grabbed their trays when a familiar voice spoke, "Miss me, Vince?"
Carter turned around, only to be greeted by the face of Sergeant Hacker.
"Charlie...when did?" Carter asked.
"Came back a few days early from retraining. So unless you wish to get me in trouble again..." Hacker spoke.
Not in the mood to be messed with, Carter glared at Hacker, saying, "If I wish to get you in trouble again, what?"
Hacker noticed Carter looking over his shoulder; turning around, he noticed Colonel Grey and Lieutenant Mayer were eying him as if warning him, "Never mind...just enjoy the spread we have, okay?"
As Hacker walked off, yelling at a Private, Carter smirked to himself. Besides that encounter, the Sergeant and Corporal were baffled as to why Hacker was back. Where was Brandon? Once they got to the front of the line to grab food, Private Colton Sanders, was serving food when he greeted the two higher-ups, "Hey there, Sergeant Carter, Corporal Boyle."
Boyle greeted him and said, "Private Sanders, when did Sergeant Hacker get back?"
"Yesterday night." Colton asked, "Turns out, Sergeant Harris told the Colonel he needed to be back at Camp Hamilton, so Hacker was asked to come back early. I'm not complaining; I'd rather Hacker than Harris; the guy gave me the creeps. But on the bright side, it's back to greasy breakfast food."
"Uh-huh..." Boyle replied, with a slow nod, as he and Carter exchanged looks.
"Sanders, what are you doin' chattin' away? The food ain't gonna serve itself!" Hacker demanded as the Private returned to work.
Private Sanders served Carter and Boyle their food. They took a seat with other fellow Sergeants, eating their breakfast. Boyle looked up at Carter, speaking, "I don't know about you, but it's kind of a relief seeing Hacker back on the base."
Though Carter would eventually deny it, he agreed with Boyle that Brandon Harris being off Camp Henderson was a relief.