Read Online The Med by David Poyer - Free Book Online

table and watched Dippy and Hernandez in their endless game of spades. Harner was there, sitting beside the Chicano rifleman, chain-smoking Marlboros like he always did; he never touched the cards, never kibitzed, volunteered nothing. He was the tallest in the squad and never complained, even on forced marches. Cutford was there, but he seemed to be on safe for the moment. Lying in his bunk, eyes closed, earphones over his stocking cap, he was nodding to his stereo. Silkworth, Liebo muttered, was in a meeting with the Top. A fly droned among the slowly tilting bunkframes, the drowsing men:
    A little after lunch they heard the squids man up for sea detail. The squad played one more hand and then drifted off to their lockers. Givens pulled a set of fresh Charlies from the wrappers they had been stowed in since the States. Liebo dimpled his tie in the mirror by the hatch. Hernandez patted on cologne, and tropical flowers filled the compartment. Harner meditated in the head, his straight razor dangling in his hand, sucking silently at a bloody lip.
    Givens checked himself in the polished glass. His garrison cap sat straight on short, wiry hair. The collar of his khaki shirt was straight with starch, his globe-and-anchors a dull and warlike black. He pinned his ribbons level with the deck, conscious of their paucity. Someday, he promised himself for the hundredth time, there would be more. A whole chestful. He bared his teeth at his image and wrinkled his nose, wishing it were not quite so wide, wishing he did not look quite so young—
    â€œWhat the fuck you doin’, Oreo?”
    â€œNothin’, man.” He moved aside as Cutford shouldered his way into the mirror. “Uh … you goin’ on libs, bro’?”
    Cutford said nothing. He stared into the mirror, then shifted his narrow eyes to Will’s. He’s so much darker than I am, Givens thought.
    â€œJesus, you stink,” said the corporal.
    â€œThat’s Hernandez.”
    â€œWhy don’t you put some on, too?”
    â€œI don’t like the smell. It’s too strong.”
    â€œHey,” said Cutford. “Dap, brother.”
    Givens dapped him unwillingly. He felt clumsy doing the rhythm. He missed one and Cutford sneered and turned back to the mirror, flipping out a comb. There were gray wires in his hair. “Oreo, you fucked-up ofay-lover, you can’t even pass power right.”
    â€œCutford, nobody goes for that power stuff anymore.”
    â€œThat’s what they been tellin’ you. Where you think you’re goin’?”
    â€œOut on liberty, like everybody else.”
    â€œâ€˜Like everybody else.’ Yeah, that’s just your tune, Oreo. You just want to be one of the boys.” He accented the last word. “And where you plannin’ to go on this sweet liberty the big man give you?”
    â€œI don’t know. Just go ashore, walk around a little.”
    â€œWho with?”
    â€œNobody. Just us pees in the squad.”
    â€œYou referrin’ to your swan friends, of course.”
    â€œThe whole squad’s goin’, man.” Will sounded plaintive even to himself. He looked around, hoping someone else needed the mirror; but the compartment was emptying, men pushing by them, stepping carefully up the ladder to keep their starched O.D. trousers from bagging at the knees. He wanted nothing more than to get away from this man, but he was part of the squad; the offer, at least, was a necessity. “Why don’t you come with us?”
    The corporal’s face came closer. Givens dropped his eyes to his gold chain, the twisted-carrot trinket Cutford wore without explaining even under his uniform, even in the showers, and the invitation died on his lips.
    â€œPrivate Givens. Will, baby.” The corporal’s voice became soft. “Listen. You don’t need to go out with those people. You don’t need to suck up to them and buy them beer. You