“The men all took three-day liberty and are back ready,” Ed DeWitt said. “It’s just past 0900 hours, and they are checking weapons and equipment. Ready when you are, CB.”
Murdock looked up and laughed. “By CB, you mean C. B. DeMille, the old-time movie director? I got that one. Let’s see, a six-mile soft sand run, then a six-mile ocean swim without fins, then live firing at the hole. What happens in the afternoon?”
The platoon had been home for a week when the first two boxes arrived by special jet to North Island, then by car directly to the Third Platoon’s office. Third Platoon had just returned from a live firing run into the San Diego east county hills, and the men were checking out lunch.
Lieutenant (j.g.) DeWitt stared at the boxes for a full minute before he took out a pocketknife and cut the tape that sealed them.
Inside, he and Murdock found the first fully assembled and ready-to-shoot Bull Pup rifle. It glowed in its all-black splendor.
“Go ahead,” Murdock said.
DeWitt picked it up and hefted it, then settled the butt plate against his shoulder and looked through the six-power scope.
“Wow, I love this shooter,” DeWitt said. He caught up the thirty-round magazine for the 5.56mm barrel and rammed it home. He found the six-round magazine for the much longer 20mm HE rounds and pushed that into place near the butt plate.
Murdock found a pamphlet of instructions and handed it to DeWitt. The commander opened another sheet of paper from the box. He pushed it at DeWitt, who read it aloud.
“The company is sorry, but there is no ammunition for the twenty-millimeter part of the weapon available yet. We will ship you two hundred rounds early next week.
“As per our agreement with Mr. Stroh, we will expect frequent reports on the field use of this weapon. Please give us as much detail as possible about any malfunctions, jamming, misfiring of rounds, early detonation, or problems with the electronics, aiming, and fuzing systems. Send all correspondence to the above address.”
Senior Chief Will Dobler came in and let out a whoop.
“It came. That’s it, the Bull Pup? Damn, but she’s a beauty. When do we start test-firing her?”
“No twenty-millimeter ammo yet,” DeWitt said.
“Hell, we can use the five-five-six and the laser. Let’s give it a workout this afternoon. What’s on the schedule?”
DeWitt grinned and handed the weapon to Dobler. “Yeah, let’s switch and go up to the pit and put some rounds through her.”
Senior Chief Dobler winced. “Oh, damn, I’d love to. Commander, I came in here to ask for some personal time. I need the afternoon off. Can you spare me?”
“Urgent, Senior Chief?”
“Damn fucking urgent, Commander, or I wouldn’t ask.”
“Go.”
“Thanks, Commander. I’ll get back at you.” The senior chief hurried out the door and up to the quarterdeck and out to his car in the parking lot in front. He started the three-year-old Buick Regal and whipped it out of the lot, heading left into Coronado. Less than two miles from the base, he parked in front of a half-block-long row of condos and apartments and hurried up the steps. The apartments had small balconies joining the steps, and he looked down the row at six more small shelves of the same size.
His next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jordan, sat on a chair in the shade, reading. She glanced up. “She ain’t home, Chief.”
Dobler stopped and went over to the end of his balcony that met the neighbors’.
“She’s not here, Mrs. Jordan? She wasn’t feeling well this morning when I left.”
“Guess so. Ambulance came about an hour ago. I didn’t know where to call you.”
“Ambulance? Where did they take her?”
“The driver said to tell you the nearest emergency room was at the Coronado Hospital on Prospect Place.”
He turned and ran. “Thanks!” he shouted over his shoulder and took the steps down, four at a time.
She was still in the emergency section of the hospital when he got there. He found the doctor who had treated her.
“Yes, you can see her for a short visit. She’s still under some medications, so she’s not totally lucid. It was a close thing. She called nine-one-one just in time.”
“Why?” Dobler asked. He realized he was still in his cammies, floppy hat and all. At least he hadn’t brought any weapons except the KA-BAR strapped to his right ankle under the cammies.
The doctor, who looked as if he hadn’t slept for two days, sighed and rubbed his forehead.
“I thought someone had told you. She took about thirty sleeping pills and slashed her wrists before she called.”
“Oh, damn. I knew she was feeling down.”
“This was a lot more than down. Severe depression is more like it. I want to keep her here for three days for observation. We made the mandatory report to the police. Has she been under psychiatric care?”
“No, she said she didn’t need it.”
“That’s like asking the pot if it’s black. She needs it, and you may, too, trying to cope with her. I’m sorry. This sort of thing happens. Now, why don’t you go in and see her. Children at school? You’ll have to take care of that problem, too. Do you have relatives here?”
Dobler shook his head. “I’ll deal with it.”
The doctor pulled back the drape from around part of the bed, then closed it when Dobler was inside.
Nancy Dobler’s eyes were closed. Will blinked as he stared down at her. Dark hair mussed on the pillow. No makeup, hands and arms outside the hospital-white sheet. Heavy straps bound each arm to the railing. Six-inch-long white bandages wrapped each wrist.
“Nan. Nancy baby, I’m so sorry. I knew you were upset this morning, but I didn’t think that you would…” He stopped. Her eyes flickered, then came open to stay. Silent tears welled and ran down her cheeks.
“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He brushed strands of loose hair back from her face and wiped wetness off her cheeks. “So sorry.”
She cleared her throat.
“Water,” she said softly, her voice scratchy. When he didn’t move at once, she brayed the same word again, and a nurse moved back the curtain and looked in.
“She wants some water, nurse. Can you bring her some?”
The nurse said she could and hurried away.
“It’s the damn fucking tube they rammed down my throat when they pumped my stomach.” She glared at him. “Well, how the hell would you feel getting everything sucked out of your belly?”
The nurse came back in the middle of the sentence and she lifted her brows and frowned at the senior chief.
Nancy leaned up so the nurse could hold the glass for her, then the nurse put it on a table nearby and left.
“Look, Nancy. This is my fault. I should have been able to know what was coming and stayed home with you. I can do more of that. I’ll take some time. I’m due two weeks’ leave. Maybe we can fly to Chicago or New York and see the town.”
“Mrs. Jordan told you I was here?”
“Yes. She really likes you.”
“Bullshit. She hates me and the kids for making so much noise. She tells me so whenever you aren’t around. Everybody in that whole shitty complex hates my guts.”
“The doctor wants to keep you here for two or three days for observation.”
Nancy laughed. “Oh sure, observation. They don’t want me to try it again and do it right. I should have used that thirty-eight pistol of yours. No waiting time. Immediate results.”
“Don’t talk that way. You can’t mean that.”
“I do mean it, and you know I do, and you know that I’m probably going to try again. Maybe not this week or this month. But when that damn elephant gets on my back, there’s no way to budge him off, except one. Why cry all the time and be miserable when I can end it with one goddamned thirty-eight slug?”