Of all the numerous places in Managua that offered various kinds of diversion to Marines on temporary leaves of absence, the most interesting was the Cantina la Flora. This center of life, music and wine probably intrigued the American soldiers of the sea and air because it was a strict breach of Marine rules for a uniformed man to be seen beyond the cafe’s entrance.
The Cantina la Flora was just ten or fifteen feet off the main road, directly on the outskirts of the city.
A low wall encircled the entire cafe, beyond this, the visitors parked their cars and hitched their horses in the shade of invitingly cooling palm trees. In the rear, stood a two-story, yellow stucco building, housing the bar, gaming tables, dance floor and private rooms of the Cantina. A large veranda, going the full length of the building and shaded with leaves and flowers, had been built in front of the house, where native men and women lounged lazily during the day and night, sipping coffee or liquor and playing dominoes.
The cafe, which occupied the entire ground floor, had a large bar to the left that was never idle. The floor was of strikingly colored tiles. Marble top tables where visitors, who came to drink and be entertained, sat around, was over to the right, looking out upon the open patio. The rear was separated in two by a partition, the front of which was occupied by the string orchestra, while the other side shielded the gaming tables that were always buzzing with activity. The center of the great room, when an entertainer wasn’t performing, served as a dance floor for the patrons.
Above this inclosure of laughter and care-free activity, a narrow balcony encircled the room, reached by a small stairway to the left of the orchestra stand.
As Lefty cautiously made his way up the steps of the veranda, making certain that there were no interfering military police near by who might spoil his evening, he saw many white civilians mixing with the native visitors; waiters bustling in and out between rows of tables, bringing and taking orders, and the five-piece string orchestra in the rear, playing a vigorous accompaniment for a lovely and shapely dark-skinned girl, wearing a large sombrero, a silk blouse and a wide, colorful skirt. She was dancing a Spanish fandango in the center of the tiled floor.
Suddenly the music stopped and the girl fell to the floor on her knees, smiling ingratiatingly as she raised her head to receive the vociferous applause of her appreciative audience. She stood up, threw a profusion of kisses in all directions and ran up the steps to the balcony, opening a door and disappearing into one of the little rooms occupied by the performers.
As Lefty crossed the dance floor to the bar, the eyes of both natives and whites followed his progress with astonishment, leaning over their tables to whisper in speculation as to what would be the Marine’s fate should he be discovered by his officers or the military police.
Just about this time, a faded, coarse-looking blond woman attired in a thin, black silk dress with a wide skirt, meandered over to the orchestra stand, now deserted by the musicians. She slouched down on the piano stool and lazily lifted her thin, white hands, letting them fall upon the keys. Slowly and softly, she began to play one of those ancient torch ballads, popular in the States years before prohibition.
Lefty leaned up against the bar and listened with flattering attentiveness to the outburst of the faded blonde at the piano. Each line of the touching lyrics she emitted made him feel more and more sorry for himself.
A fetching little olive-skinned girl with a profusion of black hair, large, dark eyes and lovely white teeth, glided over to him, placing her arm about his shoulder. Her scanty attire showed her trim, shapely figure to excellent advantage. Of all the girls at the Cantina la Flora, this one was the most sought after.
“Nice soldado Americano quiere leetle drink?” she cooed, temptingly.
Lefty merely responded by brushing her arm from about his shoulders. He had time for no one now. The blond entertainer’s song had completely enveloped him.
“Mebe Americano want to drink alone weeth Rosa, upa-stairs, yes?” the undaunted little native coquette asked, again brushing herself close to Lefty’s side.
The boy pushed her away forcibly, once more allowing his mind to drift away with the music.
Rosa turned to the bartender and winked broadly as she announced, “Leetle soft drink for brave soldado—ver’ soft, Peitro!” The bartender grinned and reached for a glass just as the blonde at the piano finished her song.
Lefty smiled sympathetically and applauded with enthusiasm, calling for an encore. The entertainer bowed gratefully in his direction for he had been the only one of all the people present who acknowledged his appreciation of her art.
“Don’t encourage her,” someone shouted.
“If you applaud like that, she’ll inflict another one of those songs on us!”
“That’s just what I want her to do!” Lefty announced; and that was exactly what the lady did to the discomfort of all.
“Where’s my drink?” the soldier demanded as the music once more reached his ears.
The bartender complied by drawing a glass of beer, and when Lefty again turned to watch the girl at the piano, the man serving the drink dropped the ashes of his cigar in the beer, also pouring in a good deal of whiskey as well.
Lefty reached back to the bar, mechanically taking the stein by the handle and lifting the beer to his lips, much to the amusement of Rosa and the practical joking bartender.
Just as he had finished his drink with no dire effect other than a feeling of dizziness, the music again stopped and he sauntered over to where the girl at the piano sat.
“That was fine, sister,” he announced as he reached her side, falling into a chair in a daze. “Give us another, will you?”
The blonde rose, and eyed him with a piercing look of disdain. “Say, insipid, you don’t think I’m doin’ this for me health, do you?”
“You mean, you expect me to pay you?” asked the astonished Marine, gradually falling under the spell of intoxication.
“Naw—just leave me the price of a pair of stocking, that’s all!”
“How can you be so mercenary?” the boy asked with the sincerity of an inebriated man.
“If you call me that again, you big bum, I’ll punch you in the nose,” the blonde warned as her eyes protruded, blazing with fire. “I’ll have you know I’m a lady, I am!”
“Well, who said you wasn’t?”
“You did!” she persisted. “You called me a—a—well, don’t say that again!”
“Say what?” Lefty demanded to know.
“What you just called me!”
“What did I call you?”
“I don’t know what it meant,” the girl admitted, “but if it was as bad as it sounded, my brother would make you eat those words, if he was here!”
Lefty yawned and stretched his arms, already tired from the effects of the bartender’s loaded drink. “Aw, be a reg’lar feller, kiddo, an’ give’sh a tune!”
“You like my voice?” the blonde asked, changing her tone to the ingratiating pitch so familiar with her type.
“Do I like it? I love it!” Lefty bellowed, much to the amusement of the white patrons seated at tables near by. “I think you have a better voice than—than—let me think. Oh, yeah! Better than Galli Curci!”
“Galli Curci?” the entertainer repeated as a puzzled expression lighted upon her face. “Who’s that guy, Galli Curci?”
“You don’t know old Galli?” Lefty asked in a high pitch of astonishment, and the blonde shook her head negatively. “Well, if you must know, let me enlighten you; Galli—old Galli Curci was the bes’ Russian bicycle rider in Brooklyn!”
A roar of laughter came from the tables occupied by the Americans. Lefty rose with much difficulty, bearing a silly grin and bowing to his encouraging audience. The girl at the piano moved about uncomfortably, the lines in her face hardening and her eyebrows knitting in a frown. “Say, bozo, I gotta feelin’ you’re trying to razz me!” she announced. “And I don’t mind tellin’ you, brother, I don’t like it!”
“Who, me?” Lefty protested innocently enough.
“Yes, you! Now cut the comedy. If you want another number, either put up or shut up!”
“Okay, baby!” Lefty announced, digging down into his pocket and bringing forth a roll of bills, peeling one off and dropping it into the lap of the performer. “Shoot!”
The boy’s roll of money was of such considerable size that Rosa, who had picked up an acquaintance with a new arrival, who seemed to gloat over her amorous antics, left the man without further ado and returned to the boy just as he placed the bills back in his pocket.
“You got sometink for Rosa?” she begged, her face again illuminated by a beaming smile.
“You got sometink for Rosa?” she begged of Lefty.“You got sometink for Rosa?” she begged of Lefty.
“You got sometink for Rosa?” she begged of Lefty.
“You got sometink for Rosa?” she begged of Lefty.
“Naw, go on away!” he replied with impatience, pushing the girl from him, “I wanna hear my baby here sing!”
The blonde folded the bill and placed it in her dress, then touched the white ivory keys and once more burst aloud in sentimental song.
“Rosa, she dance for her brave Americano soldado, you watch!”
“I don’ wanna watch,” he protested. “Go ’way, woman; you draw flies!”
“But Rosa, she dance for you!” the girl insisted, using every bit of will power she possessed to hold back her rising temper.
“I don’t care if Rosa stand on her head! Leave me alone, will ya? I wanna listen to ole blondie do her stuff!”
“Sacri!” fumed the native heartbreaker. “You do not know art!”
Lefty sighed impatiently and pushed the girl away once again. “Aw, go sit on a tack!”
Rosa frowned menacingly but still managing to check her temper, walked to a near-by table, picked up a straight drink of whiskey and handed it to the boy.
Without even looking at her, he brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the contents with one gulp, making a wry face as he did so.
The blonde finished her song and the orchestra returned to the stand, picking up their instruments, and at the sign from the leader, burst into a wild fandango. Rosa took Lefty by the hand and pulled him off of the stand. He looked back to call the blonde entertainer but she had already disappeared.
“Come, we dance, no?” Rosa announced, leading him to the center of the floor.
“Yes!” the boy agreed, and taking the shapely native girl in his arms, whirled off, around the tiled dance floor, stepping over any couple who might unfortunately come within his path.
He felt something brush against his trouser pocket and looking down, caught sight of the girl’s hand in the act of removing his money. With a swift jerk, he grabbed the roll of bills from her and placed it in the inside pocket of his blouse, much to the native’s discomfort.
At that very moment, Panama reached the veranda outside of the cafe, stopping to read the sign that forbade Marines to enter. As he burst through the grilled door, rudely brushing by a party of Americans who were ready to leave, his ears caught the sound of music and hilarity.
Once inside, his eyes searched over the rows of tables and the people jammed together on the dance floor, resting them upon Lefty and the little native girl. Without waiting another moment, he pushed through the crowd until he reached the center of the floor.
“What are you trying to pull off here?” he demanded to know, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder and swinging him around. “Pull yourself together. We’re gettin’ out of this joint pronto!”
Rosa made no attempt to hide her resentment over Panama’s sudden intrusion and clung desperately to Lefty’s sleeve. As for the boy, he was so far gone by this time, that it took him a few moments to recognize the sergeant. When he finally did, his jovial mood returned and he slapped Panama on the back in a playful fashion, shouting: “Well, well, well—if it ain’t the old kid hisself!”
“Come on, son,” Panama said, good-humoredly. “You’ve had your little fling, let’s go places!”
“No, sir! No, sir! We’re goin’ stay right here!” the boy stubbornly insisted, throwing his arms about the sergeant’s neck in a typical inebriated fashion. “You an’ me, ole pal, we’re goin’ raise the ole roof!”
The native girl grew more and more angered as the intruder insisted upon separating her from her easy prey.
“What you want, huh?” she demanded to know of Panama. “Why you no leave heem weez me, yes?”
“Yeah, why you no leave me weez she, huh?” Lefty mimicked the girl in a silly fashion.
“Because he doesn’t belong here,” the sergeant explained patiently. “He must go back camp. Police see him here—boom—no more soldado!”
“You bad, bad hombre,” she shrieked, jumping at Panama and clawing his face and neck with her finger nails.
The sergeant had all he could do to hold Lefty from falling, and at the same time, he was forced to fight off this little native minx much to the amusement of those surrounding the trio.
“Cut it out, will ya, lady?” Panama pleaded, still a victim of the girl’s painful clawing. “I gotta take him back or we’ll all land in the brig, sure!”
“You no tak my soldado, you bad hombre!” she shrieked with renewed rage, leaping for Williams’ throat this time.
“Aw, why don’t you stop hittin’ the poor gal,” Lefty stammered, now nearly blind from the reaction of the bad liquor. “Rosie, ol’ baby, I’m your pal; if he smacks you again, jes’ tell me, tha’s all!”
Panama pushed Lefty against a post in the middle of the floor, holding him upright with one foot while he tore the girl loose from his throat, throwing her off of him with all the force he could bring to his command.
“Panny, ol’ kid,” the boy muttered, “ain’t you my pal, now—ain’t you?”
“Yeah—yeah—sure I am!” he replied, breathlessly, “but we gotta get out of this joint!”
“Wai—it a minute!” Lefty protested. “You gotta shtick around. Now lisshum—did ya ever hear me sing a song?”
“No and I ain’t goin’ to now!” Williams insisted. “You’re goin’ back to camp!”
By this time, Rosa had collected her senses and made a flying leap for the sergeant’s back, clawing his neck and pulling his hair until he screamed with pain. They struggled for a while, with the girl getting the better of things until Panama finally gripped her hands and flung her across a table.
“Don’ push her aroun’ like that!” Lefty interfered by saying. “She’sh my li’l old pal!”
Panama was at the end of his rope by this time and glared at the boy with fire in his eyes. “You shut up, savvy? I’m gonna get you outa here if I have to drag you bodily!”
The boy supported himself against the post and raised his head in drunken defiance. “Don’ get tough with me, ol’ kid!”
“You shut your trap or I’ll close it for you!” the sergeant shouted, completely devoid of patience now.
A good-sized crowd had formed a circle about Lefty, Panama and the girl and they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the little impromptu show. Rosa regained her bearings and rushed in between the two Marines, ready for another wild session.
“I keel you!” she threatened Williams. “You no tak away my hombre!”
“If you don’t clear out of here, lady,” Panama warned the girl, “I’m gonna paste you one in the mouth!”
“Oh, no, you won’t,” Phelps interrupted in an antagonistic manner of defiance. “She’s my gal an’ nobody’s gonna hurt her when I’m ’round!”
Panama was boiling over with rage. The more he strove to suppress his anger, the hotter he became. Never before in all his career as a noncom had he ever stood for so much abuse from a buck private. He couldn’t understand now why he was taking it all from Lefty.
“I’m warnin’ you, Lef, cut the comedy or you’re liable to get hurt!”
Phelps, looking for sympathy, turned to a man standing near by. “Sh—sh—shee that? He’s ma’ pal an’ now he wants to fight! Okay, baby, if you wan’ it, I’m ready!”
Lefty lifted his hands and clenched his fists, but before he could use them, Panama shot out a clean right straight to the jaw and sent the boy spinning across the room, dead to the world. He fell to the floor in a heap and just missed crashing his head against the iron legs of a table.
Panama grinned menacingly and started toward his victim as the crowd of onlookers stepped back to make way for him. Rosa, though, was not to be so easily done with. She ran after the sergeant, still determined to prevent her prize from slipping through her fingers. Just as she was about to leap for him from behind, he swung around, picked her up in his arms and sat her on top of the bar, kicking, screaming and protesting.
As he reached the spot where Lefty fell, he bent down, picked the boy up, throwing him over his shoulder and turned about to leave. He hadn’t gone far when one of the waiters ran after him, waving a check and gesticulating in Spanish. Panama glanced at the bill, reached into Lefty’s pocket and took out the roll of currency, peeling off some money and throwing it to the waiter, returning the rest to the pocket from whence it came.
As the sergeant reached the grilled door with Lefty still across his shoulder, a heavy-set native, nearly a head taller than the Marine, stepped before them. Panama’s quick-wittedness came into play, and picking up Lefty’s limp, right leg, shoved it forward into the face of the unsuspecting antagonist, bowling the man over into insensibility.
Someone near by swung open the door and Panama exited, breathing freely as he once more found himself out in the cool, night air. No sooner had he started down the steps of the veranda than he heard someone approaching from behind. Turning, he found Rosa in the doorway. She leaped forward, clinging to Williams’ shoulders as she emitted a flood of vile oaths in her native tongue.
He strove to throw her off but her grip was too strong; besides, she had the advantage over him due to the fact that he was loaded down on one side by Lefty’s dead weight.
Just ahead, at the side of the building, was a rain barrel. Panama smiled grimly as he continued on his way, now burdened with the screeching girl as well as the intoxicated Marine. As they came to the side of the rain barrel, the sergeant dropped Lefty gently to the ground and then suddenly grasped the unsuspecting Rosa in both arms, lifted her high in the air and then threw her bodily into the cask of overflowing rain water.
“Mebbe that’ll keep you quiet, miss,” he speculated grimly as he reached down and threw Lefty over his shoulder again.
A half hour later, Panama entered the camp boundaries with the rows of white tents just ahead of him. He didn’t fear any of the boys on guard duty. After all, he was top kick and none of them would dare turn him in, not if they knew what was well for them! Of course, the military police, that was something else again! That crowd of roughnecks would just as lief place an offending major general under arrest as quickly as they would turn in a raw recruit.
He turned down the company street where he and Lefty lived. Just ahead of him, his keen eyes caught the silhouetted figures of Major Harding and one of his aides coming in their direction.
“Cripes, don’t that guy ever turn in?” he thought aloud. “If he catches me with my mechanic passed out, it’ll be a month in the brig instead of a medal that I’ll be gettin’!”
Panama ducked inside of one of the tents just in time to avoid a meeting with the squadron commander and his adjutant. When they had gone a sufficient distance ahead in the opposite direction, he came out, still bearing Lefty on his shoulder and hurried down the company street to their own tent.
Once inside, he lighted the small oil lamp with one hand and threw the prostrated form of his mechanic over on the cot, with the boy lying motionless in the same position that he had fallen.
“There you are, soldier!” Panama announced, good-humoredly, as he lighted a muchly deserved cigarette. “As you were—or nearly!”
He placed his cigarette down to wipe off the bloodstains from the scratches the little native minx had inflicted upon his arms, face and neck when he heard a woman’s voice, just outside the tent, call his name.
He opened the flaps and found Elinor waiting for him with grave anxiety plainly written over her pale face.
“Is he hurt, Panama?” she asked, making no attempt now to conceal her deep concern over Lefty’s welfare.
“No, Elinor, he’s top hole,” the sergeant replied in a comforting tone of assurance, “nothin’s wrong only he’s just a little tired, I reckon!”
Once reassured as to the boy’s safety, Elinor breathed freely again and gazed up at Panama with keen admiration.
“You’re a darling,” she said impulsively, reaching up on her toes and kissing him on the cheek. When she realized what she had done, she turned on her heels and ran up the company street for dear life. In another moment, she had completely disappeared from view.
Elinor’s sudden move left the sergeant utterly at loss for words. He stood in amazement, gazing after her fleeting form, his heart filled with supreme ecstasy as he slowly stroked the part of his cheek her lips had touched.
He called her name vainly, but she was gone too far to hear him. Happy as a boy away from school, he brushed back the tent flaps and burst inside, craving for someone to talk to.
Lefty was still lying on the cot in the same dull, prostrated manner as Panama came over to him and vigorously shook him by the shoulder, finally propping him up in a sitting position in an effort to bring him back to consciousness.
“Lefty! Listen! Wake up, you son of a sea cook! It’s Panama, I’m talkin’ to you, you old pickle barrel! She kissed me, do you hear that? Elinor kissed me! Will you wake up, you mug? This is your pal, can’t you understand? She just kissed me!”
Panama continued to try and bring Lefty around to consciousness but the only thing his efforts resulted in was to awake the boy once more in a drunken fit of song. At the top of his lungs, Lefty began singing off key, the music of the Spanish fandango he and Rosa had danced to. Disgusted with his efforts, Williams let the boy drop back on the cot. He lighted another cigarette and sat down on the edge of the bunk beside Phelps who had now fallen back to his silent state of unconsciousness.
“It’s all right with me, soldier,” he addressed the boy. “Don’t listen! It ain’t none of your business anyhow!”
Just then, an orderly entered and handed Williams a paper.
“What do you want, stupid?” the sergeant snapped at the dog robber.
“Major Harding requests that you take off at once on a night flight to locate some enemy camp fires,” the orderly explained.
Panama jumped up and slapped the astonished messenger on the back. “You tell the Old Man that it’s Okay with me, kid! I’ll make ten flights if he wants me to!”
As the sergeant started to get into his flying togs, the orderly exited. Once more alone, Panama turned to Lefty again, “You wouldn’t listen, eh? Well, you old stew, you don’t have to! I’ll tell the propeller. I can always talk to that old prop; in fact, I might tell the whole, darn, cockeyed world!”
By this time, he was in his togs, searching about to make certain that he hadn’t forgotten anything.
After picking up his cigarettes, he ran to the front of the tent, stopping to look back at Lefty’s motionless form still sprawled in the same position on the cot. A happy smile crossed the sergeant’s face and he crossed to where the boy lay asleep. Bending over him, he jabbed his elbow into Lefty’s ribs and whispered again, “Elinor kissed me, you mug!”
A short time after Reveille the following morning, Panama’s plane taxied along the ground and was met by a group of curious ground men.
When the ship came to a stop, the flying sergeant crawled out of the cockpit with much difficulty, stiff and sore from his all-night flight, the purpose of which had since proved to be a futile escapade.
“Didn’t see a camp fire all night,” he announced to the group of men gathered about the plane.
“Gee, that must have been tough,” one of the Marines sympathized, “hopin’ around this trick country all night and then not seein’ what you went after.”
“You said it,” another chirped. “The least that Sandino guy might have done was to be a little obligin’ and light up a couple of fires so you’d discover where he was!”
Panama shook his head and laughed heartily. “Maybe if we’d ’a’ sent him a telegram sayin’ I was comin’, he might have been considerate enough to help me out. Then we could send a squadron of planes over his camp to-day and blow ’em all to hell.”
Just then, Lefty came sauntering along, still carrying a pretty bad hang-over from the night before. When he saw the ground men grouped around Panama’s plane, he joined them.
“Say, Pete!” the sergeant called to the chief mechanic at the base, “just after sunrise this morning, one of them plugs started missin’. Will you get after it?”
“Right after breakfast,” the man announced, “I’ll put a couple of boys on to overhaul the whole motor anyway.”
Panama looked up and saw Lefty for the first time and beckoned to him. “Come on over to the tent, kid. I think I’ve got it!”
Williams waved to the others and started across the field, followed by Lefty.
Once inside of their tent, Panama threw his helmet on his cot and pulled off his windjammer as the boy sat on a box, silent and indifferent, rolling himself a cigarette. Free of his flying togs at last, the sergeant turned and confronted his friend with a familiar eagerness and suppressed excitement lighting his face that was still dirty from smoke, wind and oil.
“I’ve got the whole thing solved,” he announced with enthusiasm. “All night long, while I flew over those mountains and across valleys, searching for a sign of them greaser bandits, the idea preyed upon my mind!”
Lefty moved about on the narrow box impatiently as he reached for a match and lighted his cigarette.
“What’s been on your mind besides your helmet?”
Williams completely ignored the question and walked to the front of the tent, closing the flaps and tying them together as a means of insuring privacy.
“You’ve got to help me, kid!” he began again, turning and sitting down on the edge of the cot opposite Lefty. “Take off that jumper!”
“What for?”
“Oh, boy, why didn’t I think of this back in Pensacola,” he mused aloud, still ignoring Phelps’ questions. “Everything would have been hunky dory now, all right!”
“What would have been?” Lefty asked as he began to show signs of annoyance over the other man’s continued secrecy.
The sergeant smiled sheepishly, kicking the toe of his hobnailed boot into the ground. “Aw, go on, you know what I mean!”
Lefty rose to his feet and threw the half-smoked cigarette to the floor of the tent, crunching its remains beneath the heel of his shoe. “No, I don’t know what you mean, and if you don’t hurry up and tell me, I going to walk out on you!”
“Why, you’re goin’ to ask her for me! I’ve been thinkin’ about it all night. Don’t you see the idea?”
“No, I don’t see,” the boy protested, “I’m going to ask who, what?”
“Her!”
Lefty dropped on top of the box and gazed at Panama with a look of miscomprehension. “What are you talking about? You don’t mean that—not Elinor?”
Panama nodded his head with enthusiasm, smiling with self-satisfaction over the idea he had perfected.
“Sure—Elinor! Last night, when I went over to ask her, I lost my nerve again. There we were, by the old Mission gate, alone in the moonlight with no one within a mile of us and I couldn’t work up enough guts to say the word!”
“Why not?” the boy asked in a cool manner of indifference.
“I was helpless, licked! Don’t you see, kid? I can’t talk! But you and your college learnin’! Say, that’s how I got the idea! It’ll be a cinch——”
Panama’s proposition completely stunned the other man and he sat gazing blankly at his friend with wide, uncomprehending eyes, certain that his very ears were deceiving him.
“You—you want me to ask her for you?”
“Sure! Why not? You’re the only guy in the world that I’d let do that for me!”
Lefty walked to the front of the tent, unloosened one of the flaps and threw it back to allow the air to come in. “You’re crazy, man!” he said, completely dismissing the entire wild idea from his mind.
“Crazy?” Panama repeated, laughing cruelly. “Listen, picture yourself out in that moonlight in the shadow of the old Mission with a lot of greasers singin’ lovesick ballads and the big, silver moon shinin’ down on you with Elinor by your side and you——”
“For God’s sake, will you shut up?” the nerve-wracked boy screamed, no longer able to control his burning emotions.
“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” Panama asked, not aware of his friend’s reason for refusing his request.
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Lefty announced. “It’s you and your half-baked ideas! You’re out of your mind!”
The sergeant’s face darkened as a cloud of disappointment overshadowed his confident smile. “You mean, you won’t?”
“I can’t!” Phelps interrupted, striving to hide his true feelings. “I can’t do it and I won’t! If you want the girl, go ask her yourself!”
Panama rose and pulled at the boy’s jumper in a determined fashion, completely deaf to his protestations. “Aw, come on. Get them clothes off. You’ll know what to say. I ain’t ever had no education or dealin’s with decent women!”
Lefty swung about and faced his friend. His eyes were filled with a mingled look of fear and anxiety. “I can’t ask her that! Don’t you see, I can’t?”
“But you gotta, kid! You’ll know what to say! Your book learnin’ will help. Don’t flop me, will ya?”
“I tell you, you’re crazy!” the boy bellowed, angrily. “What do you think I am, anyway—your dog?”
A look of pain crept over Panama’s face. He saw all of his plans and dream castles crumble to earth with Lefty’s refusal to act as his proxy.
“Aw, no, I don’t think nothin’ like that. I ain’t tellin’ you to ask her, I’m beggin’ you as a pal!”
Lefty turned and walked to the rear of the tent, oblivious to the man’s entreaties. “Just because you saved me from being transferred to a ship, you expect me to jump every time you snap your fingers!”
The sergeant’s attitude changed now from one of meek pleading to definite aggressiveness, a role so perfectly suited to him.
“O-o-oh—so I’m askin’ you too much, huh? You won’t do it, eh? You won’t go over to that girl and say a couple of simple words for me when you know I can’t talk? Well, that’s Okay with me, brother! I certainly am glad to find out what kind of a pal you’ve turned out to be!”
Lefty completely weakened at the other man’s implication of his unfaithful devotion, and dropped to the cot behind him, suffering untold tortures caused by his being torn between the love of this man and his adoration for Elinor.
“I can’t do it, Panama! Honest, I can’t! It would be harder for me than it is for you!” The sergeant, not understanding the truth behind the boy’s ambiguous confession, walked over to where he rested and sitting down beside him, placed his arm about Lefty’s shoulders, once more resorting to his soft, pleading tone. “What are you talking about? Why, it’ll be a cinch for you, the way you sling words around! Say, if I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”
“If I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”“If I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”
“If I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”
“If I had your gift for gab, you don’t think I’d be askin’ you to propose for me, do you?”
Panama remained silent for a moment, waiting for some comment from Phelps but there was none forthcoming. He merely lolled on the edge of the cot, resting his weary head in his hands.
“Come on, now; you will do it, won’t you?” Williams urged.
The boy sat up straight, trying to set his befuddled brain in order again. He looked up at his friend as a shadow of helplessness crossed his face.
“I’d do anything in the world for you, anything,” he strove to make Panama believe, “but when you ask me to speak to Elinor about a thing like—like—well, if you wanted me to cut my heart right out of my body and hand it to you, that would be easier!”
Panama smiled generously and patted the boy upon the back. “I know it must be hard to do another feller’s work for him, but if I told you that what I’m askin’ means my life’s happiness; if I said that I’ve lived every moment since the time I first saw her for the day when she’d say, ‘yes’; that every hour I’m awake, I think of us together in a cottage some place with flowers and kids, and when I’m asleep, I just dream of her an’ me married, what would you say?”
Without answering, Lefty rose, proceeding to remove his work jumper as Panama, watching him eagerly, caught the significance of this gesture and jumped to his feet, bearing a triumphant and enthusiastic smile as his prospects once more grew brighter.
“Atta boy!” he shouted jubilantly. “I knew you wouldn’t fail me!”
“When you put it the way you did, about it meaning everything in the world to you, I couldn’t turn you down,” the boy explained, moving about the tent in a daze.
He walked to the little stand that held the washbasin and cleaned the oil and grease off of his hands and then brushed his hair.
As he gazed into the small mirror just above the washbasin, his eyes rested upon a snapshot of Elinor that Panama had stuck there. Confronted by the magnetic features of the girl, everything within him revolted against the unfairness of it all. He swung about, ready to announce his definite refusal to participate in the scheme, only to come face to face with the sergeant who was standing behind him, watching eagerly.
“Go on, now,” Panama urged. “I’ll be waitin’ right here for her answer.”
His words again changed the boy’s demeanor, breaking down the last barriers of objection.
“Don’t keep me waitin’ too long, will ya?” Williams begged. “Hurry on your way now!”
Lefty stopped when he reached the front of the tent, lighting upon a perfect alibi to defer the painful ordeal he was about to face. “Wait a minute,” he said. “This is no time to propose to a girl. You can’t ask her a serious thing like that just when you please. You’ve got to have things right. You know, moonlight, atmosphere, music and all that bunk. I’ll ask her to-night. What do you say?”
“There you are! That’s the difference between us,” Panama boasted with profound admiration for his friend’s mental capacity. “If it was me, I’d run right over now and she’d probably hand me the bum’s rush! Don’t you see how much I need your help? That’s what that education stuff does for a guy!”
“All right, all right, now let’s forget about it until to-night then,” Lefty said impatiently. “I said I’d do it, so it’s as good as done!”
Panama shrugged his shoulders and walked over to his cot, disappointed with the boy’s unsympathetic attitude. Suddenly something struck him and he looked at the other man with a grave expression of doubt. “Say, Lef!”
“Now what’s the matter?”
“Nothin’, only—well, suppose she does say the word,” the sergeant speculated as he scratched his head, “then what am I supposed to do?”
“Run over, take her in your arms and ask her when the day is to be!”
The simple man’s face became livid white as he moved from one foot to the other nervously.
“Gee, I can’t do that!” he protested, “I ain’t got nerve enough! Couldn’t you ask her that too?”
“Whatinell you expect me to do,” Lefty roared, completely losing his patience. “Marry her for you?”
Elinor stood by the narrow window in the dingy, one-room hut that she and Grace Hayes (another nurse) made habitable after an entire day of scrubbing and cleaning on their hands and knees until their backs were nearly broken.
A blue cotton curtain, some pictures, a few ornaments, bought in town and some brightly colored cretonne pillows gave the little place a feminine touch and a homey atmosphere.
The bright, full tropical moon shone through the glass, casting its silvery beams upon the girl’s thick, blue-black hair and large, dark eyes.
As the form of a man appeared just a few feet outside of the window, the nurse stepped back and drew the curtain so as not to be seen. Grace came up alongside of her, trying to peer through the glass but the curtain shut out the view completely.
“Is he still there?” she asked inquisitively.
Elinor nodded her head slowly, continuing to watch the man pacing up and down before her window, not without experiencing a secret thrill of triumph as she marveled at his patience. For the past hour and a half, he had been walking back and forth in front of the house, stopping now and then to look in the window, hoping for a sight of the lovely nurse within.
“Oh, that’s mean!” Grace protested. “You’ve kept him waiting out there for almost an eternity. Why don’t you stop this nonsense and see him!”
“It will do him good to wait,” Elinor announced with a touch of severeness in her voice. “He needs a lesson in consideration for other people’s feelings!”
“Oh, dear!” the other girl sighed with envy. “I wish there was a tall, good-looking Marine waiting for me on a night like this!”
Elinor couldn’t help but smile at her roommate’s outburst of simple romanticism. “And if this one was waiting for you instead of for me, what would you do!”
“I don’t know,” Grace confessed in a helpless fashion, “I guess I’d run right out, drag him off to some lonely spot and work a proposal from him if I had to literally choke the words out of his mouth!”
“That’s a good idea,” Elinor replied with secret amusement. “Maybe I’ll try it myself.”
“Really!” the other said as her mouth opened aghast and her eyes widened. “Would you—honest!”
“Any old port in a storm, you know! If he doesn’t speak with natural ease, perhaps your idea of gentle persuasion may help.”
She reached for her blue cape and swung it over her shoulders, stopping to peck Grace’s cheek with a fond kiss as she walked to the other side of the room.
“Be in early!” the lonely, romantic nurse warned, good-naturedly, as Elinor placed her hand on the door knob, swinging the door open.
“That depends on how successful I am,” the girl laughed with a ring of optimism. In a moment, the door had closed behind her and she was gone.
Grace ran to the window excitedly, peeking through the curtain to watch her roommate and Lefty, who still waited with admirable patience.
Lefty reached for his hat and pulled it off of his head, fumbling nervously with it in his hands as he turned about, discovering Elinor standing in the shadow of the doorway, silent and somewhat indifferent.
“Oh—er—hello!” he stammered, attempting to assume a bold, devil-may-care front, though obviously ill at ease.
“Good evening, Mr. Phelps,” she replied in a distinctly piqued manner.
She came down the little pathway and joined him without speaking further. Together, they silently turned off to the road that led up the hill and passed the old Spanish Mission.
Certain that Lefty would remain silent as long as she set the example, Elinor gave him a hurried, sidelong glance, and with slight irony, remarked: “I suppose I should feel highly honored over your condescension in favoring me with your precious society this evening?”
She waited a moment for him to reply but he was too miserable even to look in the girl’s direction.
“Well,” she began again, this time in a lighter, indifferent fashion, though still secretly burning with jealousy, “did you have a good time last night?”
“I don’t blame you for not being tickled pink to see me,” he said, in a manner that distinctly betrayed his secret disgust with himself, and the mark of unhappiness his present task had left upon his heart and face. “I haven’t been at all considerate of your feelings of late, but if you were acquainted with the circumstances, you might not be so harsh in your opinion of me.”
Just ahead of them was a native hut with large palm trees silhouetted in the background against the pale, evening tropical sky. The moon, peeking over the tree tops, reflected the dark figures of several men and women seated on the porch of the little house, singing the alluring love melodies of far-away Spain to the accompaniment of indolent, strumming guitars.
The boy and girl paused just before an ancient well, built centuries ago by the Spanish Inquisitors. Elinor gazed up at the unhappy Marine whose face bore a pathetic expression of inquietude.
“Why the sudden outburst of remorse?” she asked in the same piqued manner as her original approach.
“I’m not remorseful or—well, I only meant to explain that I wouldn’t have bothered you to-night if I didn’t have something important to ask you!”
Elinor’s heart almost stopped beating at the welcome sound of his words that held so much promise. He could mean but one thing, she was certain, and at the mere thought of an impending proposal of marriage from this man, she looked up at him with suppressed eagerness and anticipation, half whispering: “Yes, Lefty, what is it?”
“I hardly know how to begin,” he faltered, “and I hope that you will take what I am going to say in the right way.”
“Of course!”
Throwing discretion and self-pride to the winds, he gazed at her with wild, piercing eyes, a look that quickened the beating of her heart and thrilled her to the very tips of her fingers.
“I want to tell you,” he continued in a hurried, reckless fashion, anxious to get his task done, “I want to tell you that somebody loves you, somebody thinks you are the most adorable girl in all the world. You’re on his mind every waking hour of the day and when sleep envelops him at night, his dreams are only of you! You are all that he thinks of, talks about and lives for. No matter where we go, what dangerous perils face us, all I hear from him is Elinor this and Elinor that. She’s beautiful, wonderful, sweet and——”
“Lefty!” Elinor interrupted, rudely awakened with astonishment at the knowledge that his proposal of marriage was merely the delivery of a message for someone else.
Unmindful of her interruption or the abject pain of remorse and disappointment that was gripping the heart of this girl whom he truly worshiped himself, Lefty rambled on: “There are a lot of men in this world who would be made the happiest creatures alive with the knowledge that you cared for them—good men, successful, honest and faithful, but if you searched far and wide, over the four corners of the earth, you would never find another Panama. He may seem relentless, rough and crude, insofar as speech and education goes, but underneath that hard exterior, built up as a protection against a laughing, unmerciful world, there is a softness, a beautiful, honest soul possessed with a tenderness and devotion to you!”
“Please, Lefty!” the unhappy, disillusioned woman begged, “you mustn’t——”
“There is only one fault he possesses,” the boy continued, deaf to her protestations, “his heart is filled with such a great love for you that he is limited for the want of proper expression. I know that he has tried to tell you time and time again but each——”
“Please, don’t!” she interrupted beseechingly, suddenly gripped with a pressing desire to run away from it all as she took a few steps backward.
“Don’t you understand, Elinor? He’s crazy about you! He worships you. Never, since the day his eyes first rested upon you, has he even as much as looked at another woman. Last night, when you kissed him—kissed him for saving me from prison or God knows what else—he went wild with joy! All night long while he flew over the jungles, imperiling his life, his task was made lighter because he believed you cared!”
Elinor stood numb with obfuscation, her face a lifeless, enigmatic blank as her eyes filled with large tears that trickled down her pallid cheeks. Lefty lifted her chin so that their eyes met, then he grasped her by the shoulders, shaking her gently to make her understand, but all that he did was to bring to the girl the horrible realization of the tremendous sacrifice he was making for his friend’s happiness.
As he gazed into her tear-filled, pleading eyes, he was afraid to trust himself, and struggled to bring Panama back as the chief topic of conversation, increasing his fervent ardor with the escape of each word from his lips.
“Don’t you understand, dear? He loves you! That’s why I am here to speak for him because he can’t! He worships the very ground you walk upon, lives only for the realization of his dream to marry you. Will you——”
“Please, Lefty—don’t say it!” she cried in a voice gripped with terror.
“I’ve got to, dear,” the boy persisted in a blind, resolute manner. “He’s over there now, waiting for your answer. He’s waiting for me to come and tell him that you will be his wife!”
Unable to control her emotions any longer, Elinor gave full vent to her feelings and broke down, sobbing as if every one of Lefty’s words had been an arrow, piercing straight through to her heart.
Instinctively, he drew close to her, dropping his cruel mask of pretension for one brief moment.
“What are you crying for, baby!” he asked, gently, allowing his hand to stroke her hair. “You’ve got nothing to feel bad about, dear! You should shout for joy because Panama loves you. He’ll make you the happiest girl in the world. Come on, girlie, what do you say!”
She looked up into his clear blue eyes that bespoke the great sacrifice he was making. Despite her own sorrow, her heart filled with admiration over the splendidness of his character and his unflinching devotion to the cause of a man who had often befriended him.
Unable to remain silent any longer in the face of losing the man her heart had belonged to ever since the very first moment she saw him, she cried, “Lefty!” in a tone that expressed her own, powerful, overwhelming love.
He stepped a little away from her, conscious of his own weakness as she followed after him, throwing her arms about his neck and burying her head upon his chest. He attempted vainly to release himself but she pressed closer to him.
When she lifted her head again, gazing up at him appealingly, he momentarily forgot every obligation he had assumed, completely weakening as he clasped her tightly in his arms, showering her upraised lips with kisses his heart had gone hungry for.
They became lost to the world in the ecstasy of their own love, whispering to each other passionate words of endearment.
All at once, Lefty’s face sobered as Elinor drew away from him. “How will I ever explain it all to Panama?” he murmured.
Though the thought of the sergeant and the speculation as to how he would receive the unhappy announcement of his failure, troubled Elinor, she braced herself for the ordeal, shielded by her great love, and replied: “I’ll go with you, dear! I’ll tell him!”
Panama was keyed up to a high, exciting pitch of impatience. He had been pacing back and forth within the small inclosure of the tent since Lefty went forth upon his unhappy mission, now more than two hours ago.
Hearing a noise outside of the tent, he paused suddenly just as the flaps were pushed back and Lefty entered, bearing a troubled look upon his weary and tired face. Panama grinned apprehensively and ran to greet the boy, eagerly awaiting to learn the results of the expedition.
“What did she say?” he whispered, forcing down a nervous lump that rose in his throat.
“She’s outside,” the boy replied with hesitance. “She wants to talk to you!”
Too wrapped up in the belief that, at last, his fondest wishes had culminated in actual realization, Panama remained blind insofar as sensing the truth that lay behind Lefty’s apparent misery and troublesome expression. He bolted pass the boy and was out of the tent in a moment.
Once more alone, Phelps dropped down upon the edge of the cot in a forlorn manner, running his fingers through his hair for the want of something to relieve the tenseness that had gripped him.
Restless and worried, he rose again and paced back and forth with a nervous, uncertain step, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would again have to face the sergeant after the truth had been disclosed.
Following what seemed to be an hour, but was really no more than ten minutes, the flaps parted again and Williams entered, bearing a cold, unrelentless expression of cruelty, feeling very much like a man who had been betrayed by his dearest friend.
He faced the boy sternly. His thin, colorless lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes narrowed with growing rage.
Nervous and pleading, bearing a miserable look of unquestionable guilt, the boy began to explain the circumstances only to be cut short before a single word had passed his lips.
“So that’s the kind of a rat you turned out to be?” Williams began in a cold, upbraiding manner of disdain.
“But, listen—” Lefty begged.
“I sent you over to my girl to ask something that I was unable to say,” Panama interrupted him again, “and the moment my back was turned, you forgot about me in your own selfish way and made love to her yourself!”
“That isn’t so!” the other man insisted vehemently. “You know I wouldn’t double-cross you for a million dollars!”
“You wouldn’t double-cross me?” the Marine noncom repeated, emitting a cold, merciless laugh that caused a chill to run right through the other man. “Why, you yellow pup—you ran back on your college, and ran back on the Flying Corps and now you try to knife me!”
The boy’s face became livid white and he parted his lips as a sign of protest but the enraged sergeant burst right in upon him again without allowing him an explanation.
“Put up your hands and fight, if you ain’t the yellow pup I think you are!”
“I don’t want to fight you, Panama,” Lefty appealed in vain. “I don’t want to fight you!”
“You mean, you ain’t got guts enough to,” Williams shrieked derisively, “but I’m gonna beat the daylights out of your yellow hulk or know why!”
He raised his hand and made a lunge at the boy just as Lefty attempted to shield himself by covering his face with his hands. Panama’s blow was too quick. His clenched fists reached their mark, just on the side of the boy’s head, stunning him for a moment and then arousing him to the act of self-defense.
“All right, if you want it that way,” Phelps cried out. “Come on; I’ll fight!”
Panama’s fists connected with the boy’s jaw and he followed this stunning blow right up with a short left to the stomach, then a right to the ribs and another left to the face, completely closing one of the boy’s eyes with the forceful blow.
They were fighting now in close quarters. The boy swung his fists wildly, only making his mark once or twice and then with no noticeable effect upon the grizzled features of the other man, who kept tearing and slashing away with the confidence and marked certainty of the experienced battler.
Panama brought every bit of his terrific, gorilla strength to bear upon his punches, battering the helpless boy into a corner and with a smashing right to the mouth, brought blood to his weaker adversary’s lips, following this up with a resounding blow, directly to a spot just under the heart that sent Phelps reeling across the tent and falling over the cot.
The victor stopped a moment to catch his breath and brush the hair out of his eyes. He looked down and saw that his entire shirt front was covered with blood from the boy’s cut mouth and nose. Smiling grimly, he again pounced upon Lefty, who was just regaining consciousness, taking him by the throat with a determination to finish matters now for once and for all.
Suddenly, from the flying field came the bugler’s call to assemble and to arms. A look of keen disappointment overshadowed the crazed and lustful features of the man who believed he had been wronged. Reluctantly, he released his grip upon Lefty’s throat, rising to his feet slowly and mechanically reaching for his flying togs.
Down through the long line of company streets, noncommissioned officers breathlessly ran, shouting at the top of the lungs to the inmates of the many tents to turn out for duty.
Panama buttoned his windjammer and reached for his helmet, casting one last, contemptuous look in the direction of the punch-drunk boy. “Come on, yeller, snap into it! I’ll settle with you later!”
With that, he disappeared through the tent flaps, leaving the battered and bruised mechanic to slowly lift himself to his feet and follow after him.
Out on the field, the ground men had already lined up the planes for a take-off in battle formation. Just ahead of the ships, Major Harding and his two aides stood in conversation as pilots and mechanics came running past them from all directions.
Panama made his appearance and went directly to the flight commander, coming to attention and saluting his superior with a military snap.
The major acknowledged the formality and instructed the sergeant to line his men up before their ships.
Williams saluted again, did an about face and roared to the men on the field to fall in.
When the men were in line and absolute quiet once more reigned, the commander of the flying squadron stepped forward and addressed the pilots and their mechanics.
“Word has reached us from an official source,” he announced, “that a body of our men are being attacked by the enemy near Ocotal.” He turned to the adjutant standing at his right and asked: “Are all the pilots and observers present?”
“All present and accounted for,” the aide announced, “except Sergeant Greyson and Corporal Fleck, two observers who are down with malaria!”
“In that case,” the major announced, “I will lead this formation myself. Sergeant Williams, you will accompany me as my observer. Private Phelps——”
Lefty stepped forward, managing to stand beneath the shadow of one of the planes so that his bruised face would not show. “Yes, sir!” he replied and saluted.
“You have had machine gun experience?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then you are assigned to Corporal Steve Graham’s plane as his observer! Crews will service all ships for immediate flight. The armament section will place eight fragmentation bombs on each plane and check front and rear guns and ammunition!”
He took two paces back. The adjutant stepped forward and saluted, then cupping his hands to his mouth, yelled: “Turn on the field lights!”
Captain Burleson, second in command to Major Harding, moved up in front of the young adjutant and announced: “Make all possible speed. We must take off in less than ten minutes!”
As the great Sunlight arc lamps from the roof of the hangars on the north and south ends of the field illuminated the vicinity for miles around, literally turning the dark night into daylight, the various crews began to service each ship, beginning with tearing off the engine covers.
Noncommissioned officers moved about with raised voices, ordering their units to fulfill various tasks in hurried and excited tones of authority, as each man responded by springing into action.
Over to the right, at the bombproof cellars, men perspired as they silently labored, passing up bombs along a line that reached to the first ship with the last man standing by to load plane after plane.
The motors of some of the planes were already running and the deafening whirrs drowned out the shouts of officers and noncoms. With the ships serviced and loaded with ammunition now, the pilots and their observers climbed up into the cockpits, ready for the command to take off.
Steve and Lefty’s plane was the second in line, just alongside of the major’s in which Panama was traveling as observer. Though Steve was keyed up and fervent with excitement over his first night flight as a pilot and the happy prospect of at last being baptized under the fire of Sandino’s guns, he found time to annoy Lefty, who sat in the rear cockpit, miserably unhappy and at fault with the world.
The corporal glanced back at his observer, bearing a mischievous grin, and as he indicated the machine gun beside Phelps, remarked derisively: “Now be careful, Yale, and don’t fire that gun backward!”
The boy was too occupied with the many confusing and disappointing problems of the past few hours to heed the idle chiding of Graham. He merely glanced up at the heckler with a frown and then turned away once more to his own troubles without offering any retort.
The great siren blew and the pilots, alert for action, responded by taxiing their ships to a starting position with the major’s plane first in line.
Panama stood up and looked back to make certain that everything was ready, reporting to the commander, who raised his arm high above his head, the procedure followed by every other pilot all the way down the line.
The ground men hurried through the network of ships, bending low to make certain that the lights strapped to the struts of each ship were securely fastened and lighted. One these men jumped out of the way, the commander of the squadron dropped his hand and the planes made their take-off down the field, flying into formation as they gradually gained altitude.