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Then
I
heard
an
allhands
call
in
my
helmet
that
I
never
want
to
hear
again
.
"
Sauve
qui
peut
!
Home
!
Home
!
Pickup
and
home
!
Any
beacon
you
can
hear
.
Six
minutes
!
All
hands
,
save
yourselves
,
pick
up
your
mates
.
Home
on
any
beacon
!
Sauve
qui
--
"
I
hurried
.
His
head
came
off
as
I
tried
to
drag
him
out
of
his
suit
,
so
I
dropped
him
and
got
out
of
there
.
On
a
later
drop
I
would
have
had
sense
enough
to
salvage
his
ammo
,
but
I
was
far
too
sluggy
to
think
;
I
simply
bounced
away
from
there
and
tried
to
rendezvous
with
the
strong
point
we
had
been
heading
for
.
It
was
already
evacuated
and
I
felt
lost
...
lost
and
deserted
.
Then
I
heard
recall
,
not
the
recall
it
should
have
been
"
Yankee
Doodle
"
(
if
it
had
been
a
boat
from
the
Valley
Forge
)
--
but
"
Sugar
Bush
,
"
a
tune
I
did
n't
know
.
No
matter
,
it
was
a
beacon
;
I
headed
for
it
,
using
the
last
of
my
jump
juice
lavishly
--
got
aboard
just
as
they
were
about
to
button
up
and
shortly
thereafter
was
in
the
Voortrek
,
in
such
a
state
of
shock
that
I
could
n't
remember
my
serial
number
.
I
've
heard
it
called
a
"
strategic
victory
"
--
but
I
was
there
and
I
claim
we
took
a
terrible
licking
.
Six
weeks
later
(
and
feeling
about
sixty
years
older
)
at
Fleet
Base
on
Sanctuary
I
boarded
another
ground
boat
and
reported
for
duty
to
Ship
's
Sergeant
Jelal
in
the
Rodger
Young
.
I
was
wearing
,
in
my
pierced
left
ear
lobe
,
a
broken
skull
with
one
bone
.
Al
Jenkins
was
with
me
and
was
wearing
one
exactly
like
it
(
Kitten
never
made
it
out
of
the
tube
)
.
The
few
surviving
Wildcats
were
distributed
elsewhere
around
the
Fleet
;
we
had
lost
half
our
strength
,
about
,
in
the
collision
between
the
Valley
Forge
and
the
Ypres
;
that
disastrous
mess
on
the
ground
had
run
our
casualties
up
over
80
per
cent
and
the
powers-that-be
decided
that
it
was
impossible
to
put
the
outfit
back
together
with
the
survivors
--
close
it
out
,
put
the
records
in
the
archives
,
and
wait
until
the
scars
had
healed
before
reactivating
Company
K
(
Wildcats
)
with
new
faces
but
old
traditions
.
Besides
,
there
were
a
lot
of
empty
files
to
fill
in
other
outfits
.
Sergeant
Jelal
welcomed
us
warmly
,
told
us
that
we
were
joining
a
smart
outfit
,
"
best
in
the
Fleet
,
"
in
a
taut
ship
,
and
did
n't
seem
to
notice
our
ear
skulls
.
Later
that
day
he
took
us
forward
to
meet
the
Lieutenant
,
who
smiled
rather
shyly
and
gave
us
a
fatherly
little
talk
.
I
noticed
that
Al
Jenkins
was
n't
wearing
his
gold
skull
.
Neither
was
I
--
because
I
had
already
noticed
that
nobody
in
Rasczak
's
Roughnecks
wore
the
skulls
.
They
did
n't
wear
them
because
,
in
Rasczak
's
Roughnecks
,
it
did
n't
matter
in
the
least
how
many
combat
drops
you
had
made
,
nor
which
ones
;
you
were
either
a
Roughneck
or
you
were
n't
--
and
if
you
were
not
,
they
did
n't
care
who
you
were
.
Since
we
had
come
to
them
not
as
recruits
but
as
combat
veterans
,
they
gave
us
all
possible
benefit
of
doubt
and
made
us
welcome
with
no
more
than
that
unavoidable
trace
of
formality
anybody
necessarily
shows
to
a
house
guest
who
is
not
a
member
of
the
family
.
But
,
less
than
a
week
later
when
we
had
made
one
combat
drop
with
them
,
we
were
full
fledged
Roughnecks
,
members
of
the
family
,
called
by
our
first
names
,
chewed
out
on
occasion
without
any
feeling
on
either
side
that
we
were
less
than
blood
brothers
thereby
,
borrowed
from
and
lent
to
,
included
in
bull
sessions
and
privileged
to
express
our
own
silly
opinions
with
complete
freedom
--
and
have
them
slapped
down
just
as
freely
.
We
even
called
non-coms
by
their
first
names
on
any
but
strictly
duty
occasions
.
Sergeant
Jelal
was
always
on
duty
,
of
course
,
unless
you
ran
across
him
dirtside
,
in
which
case
he
was
"
Jelly
"
and
went
out
of
his
way
to
behave
as
if
his
lordly
rank
meant
nothing
between
Roughnecks
.
