Battle Cry Page #5

- Let's go, kid. Get up.

- Hold on.

- Come on, you gotta get out of here.

- Leave me alone!

- This is my life. I'll do what I want with it!

- Come on.

- She rolled him.

- Where's his dough?

Where's his dough?

I got it.

- She's gone.

- It's all right. It's all right.

Dear John letter. She's gonna

have a baby. She got married.

See what happens when you fall for one broad?

Let's get him out of here.

Come on, come on!

She's gone.

Sir.

We lost contact with Fox Company.

Soon as the boys finish chow,

I'll have them run a line up.

All right.

- You got your Indians working?

- Yes, sir. Right over here.

Lighttower and his all-Navajo network.

That Huxley's really a smart boy.

He's gonna foul up the Japs

so they can't intercept our messages.

Seems that he read someplace that

they used Sioux talkers in World War I.

You can stop. We know you're reading

High Pockets the Riot Act.

Mr. Jones, I hate to interrupt your meal hour...

...but when you finish feeding your face,

I want you to run a line up to Fox Company.

Yes, sir. Right, sir.

On the double, sir.

Come on. If I don't get this dame's sister

a date, I'll be out in the cold.

No, thanks.

Man, you're the limit.

You gotta loosen up sometimes.

I enjoy myself on liberty.

- What do you do?

- Ride the San Diego Coronado Ferryboat.

You what?

Take a boat ride.

You ought to try it sometime, Andy.

It's very pleasant.

It gives me a chance to think.

I might write a book about all this one of these days.

You ride the Coronado Ferry.

Marion, believe me, I think you will write that book.

Excuse me.

I don't seem to have a light.

Thanks.

Don't think I'm forward,

but I've seen you here before.

I travel to Coronado every night.

You're almost getting to be a fixture.

I was curious.

It's quiet here. I can think.

Lonesome?

No, not really.

I'll bet you're thinking about a girl.

I haven't got a girl.

No man has a girl back home

when he's talking to a girl in San Diego.

Look, lady, I'm not one of those guys.

There are things that mean more to me

than a brief conversation.

I'll bet you really don't have a girl.

I said I didn't.

Forgive me.

I shouldn't have bothered you.

Miss?

I'm sorry.

It's sort of hard to explain.

But being out here, for me, well, I can think.

Things make sense.

That rat race back there's almost another world.

What do you think about, Marine?

I think about how I'd like to write

about the war and this city and the guys.

I suppose you think I'm off my rocker.

- How old are you?

- Nineteen.

A completely honest gyrene.

You're one for the books.

You should have said 25 to impress me.

Is it a crime to be 19?

Miss?

My name's Marion, Marion Hotchkiss.

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