A DISTANT VICTORY
"No nice girl, no nice girl," he sing-songed vehemently. "Old
slut," he spat out and glanced at us to see if we noticed the new
addition to
his
virile and American vocabulary, then, sadly: "She
does not look very young and she would be very much nicer and very
much more beautiful in a red dress. But I will not look at it any
more." And he left us, moving with those precise, dancing steps of
his, walking as if he wore high heels. He disappeared and I did not
see him for the rest of that day. I felt gently disappointed and cheated
because I had intended to send
him
to the hospital galley for coffee
and cinnamon rolls for us.
"He's some cutter," laughed Murphy, "your Flip helper!"
Alone, I could not face the ordeal of writing my mother so I
walked down the runway connecting our Quonset-hut wards, hoping
to find someone for a game of chess. Thompson, who played a foolishly
reckless and unorthodox game, was on duty in Ward D, and he was
slouched over the ward desk, his mouth slack, apparently doing noth–
ing but listening to the soporific whirr of the fan. We set up the
board and the men on the desk.
Thompson led out with his Knights, but I opened cautiously
and built my men toward a standard "fool's mate" position. "You're
always playing so damn careful," Thompson commented dryly. "It
ain't no fun that way."
In several moves he had worked his Queen out and down deep
into my territory, intending to split ·up the shaky defense I had started
to construct. But he had given little thought to protection for his
Queen, left defenseless out in the open, and, although I was frightened
for a moment, I saw a way to trap his Queen and keep myself out
of trouble. I could not help congratulating myself.
"You seen that Kodak picture them boys in the lab got?" he
asked me.
"Yes," I answered as calmly as I could.
"Real good, it's really good," he said without enthusiasm, flatly.
"The chief they got the original print off, he's in your ward,
isn't he?"
Thompson jerked
his
thumb to his shoulder, motioning. "There in
the fifth cot, the guy with all the hair on his chest. He's been around,
that Joe, and got more women in California, I bet, than he can use.;'
I studied the sleeping man. He was stretched, upon his back,
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