Nightmare Alley Read online

  Frankie spotted a blonde to his right on the sidewalk. He straightened up and focused on her. She was alone, wearing a white uniform, and he realized she was the nurse he had passed a little while ago. Frankie wished he could pin the bars of a lieutenant to his lapels, because nurses normally wouldn’t go out with ordinary enlisted men; but Frankie didn’t consider himself an ordinary enlisted man. He knew he was good-looking, because he’d always had lots of girl friends back in the States. Women often told him that he resembled the popular actor Victor Mature. He’d never had trouble getting laid in his life until he wound up in the Army and was sent to places where there were few women. He had supreme confidence in his masculine attractiveness, and had learned long ago that even the ragpicker who sleeps underneath the bridge can fuck the queen in the castle if he just has confidence.

  Frankie looked in the rearview mirror and adjusted his fatigue hat at a rakish angle. Then he climbed out of the jeep and walked to its front, then leaned against the grill. No officers were headed in his direction; only the nurse. She glanced at him as she approached, then looked away.

  Frankie snapped to attention and threw her a smart salute. “Hi,” he said.

  She looked at him, looked away, looked at him again, and then looked away again. Frankie wanted to chase after her, but didn’t dare do that in front of the officers’ club. He had to play it cool; otherwise he might get court-martialed for some weird offense.

  He put his hands in his pockets and watched her back as she walked toward the door of the officers’ club. She had a real nice figure and an especially nice ass. Frankie thought a woman’s ass was the most important part of a woman’s anatomy, aesthetically speaking.

  “Take your hands out of your pockets, soldier! Where in hell do you think you are!”

  Frankie pulled his hands out of his pockets and saw a major approaching on his left. The major had a five o’clock shadow on his face and a nose like a button.

  “What are you doing here, soldier!”

  Frankie snapped to attention. “I just drove my platoon leader here, sir! I’m waiting for him, sir! He should be right back, sir!”

  The major looked Frankie up and down. “If you’re waiting for him, you’d better wait like a soldier! And leave those nurses alone—understand?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “As you were!”

  The officer turned around and walked toward the front door of the officers’ club. Frankie returned to the front seat of the jeep, sat, and leaned back. “Fucking officers,” Frankie muttered. “If I ever bump into that son of a bitch on a dark night in Honolulu, I’ll beat the piss out of him.”

  TWO . . .

  Officers were lined up four deep around the bar. Inside the jukebox, Benny Goodman was playing his clarinet. Other officers sat around tables. A big picture window overlooked the tennis courts, where men and women banged balls around. Three bartenders rushed back and forth behind the bar, and Lieutenant Breckenridge waited his turn while glancing around, seeing who was there, finally spotting General Sully and Colonel Jessup sitting at a table against one of the walls. They looked awfully glum, which tended to substantiate Frankie La Barbara’s story. New Guinea was supposed to be the shithole of the war.

  “What’ll you have?” asked the bartender.

  “A whiskey and soda,” Lieutenant Breckenridge replied.

  The bartender scooped ice cubes into a glass and then poured the whiskey, sending up a thin trail of condensation smoke. Lieutenant Breckenridge wondered how he could get close to General Sully and Colonel Jessup so he could overhear what they were saying. All the tables near them were full. But there had to be a way. Maybe he could walk past real slow, even say hello to them, inviting himself to sit down. He knew them somewhat because he was a minor celebrity in the division. Before the war he’d been first-string fullback at the University of Virginia.

  The bartender placed the glass of whiskey and soda in front of Lieutenant Breckenridge, who paid him and then stepped back from the bar so somebody else could order. He sipped the drink; it tasted just right. Licking his lips, he gazed over the heads of the other officers at General Sully and Colonel Jessup. I might as well just walk over there, he said to himself. What the fuck.

  “Hi, Dale.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge turned around and saw Lieutenant Utsler, who was on the staff of General Sharkey, the operations officer at division headquarters.

  “Hi, Jack. How’re you doing?”

  “Not bad. How about you?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge looked down at Lieutenant Utsler, because Lieutenant Utsler was only five feet eight inches tall. Lieutenant Utsler had graduated from Yale summa cum laude, which was why he had a soft staff job, whereas Lieutenant Breckenridge had barely squeaked through the University of Virginia, earmarking him for the good old infantry.

  “Say, Jack,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “I heard a rumor today and I wonder if you know anything about it.”

  “I don’t know anything about anything,” Lieutenant Utsler said, taking a step backward and frowning.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge grabbed him by the arm. “Let’s, go someplace quiet where we can talk.”

  “I’m waiting for somebody!”

  “It won’t take long.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge pulled Lieutenant Utsler away from the bar and manhandled him gently toward a vacant stretch of wood-paneled wall.

  “You’re hurting me!” Lieutenant Utsler said, trying to wriggle out of Lieutenant Breckenridge’s grasp.

  “Calm down.”

  They reached the wall and Lieutenant Breckenridge turned Lieutenant Utsler loose.

  “Listen,” said Lieutenant Breckenridge, bringing his face close to Lieutenant Utsler. “I heard today that we’re going to New Guinea. Is that so?”

  Lieutenant Utsler’s eyes bounced around like Ping-Pong balls. “I told you that I don’t know anything about anything!”

  “Oh, yes you do. You’re on the operations staff, which means you know everything about everything. We’re going, aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know anything about anything, I told you!”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge examined Lieutenant Utsler’s face for those telltale twitches and grimaces that indicate a lie, and he saw them. Lieutenant Breckenridge groaned. “It’s true. We’re going to New Guinea.”

  “I didn’t say we’re going to New Guinea!” Then Utsler glanced around nervously, because he was afraid somebody might have heard him. He raised his face and whispered: “I didn’t say we’re going to New Guinea.”

  “But you didn’t say we’re not going, either.”

  “I don’t know anything about anything!”

  “C’mon, Jack, you can tell me. Everybody’s gonna know pretty soon anyway, so what’s the difference?”

  “Loose lips sink ships.”

  “Hey, Jack,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “do I look like a Jap spy? I’m only Lieutenant Breckenridge from the fighting Twenty-third, and you’re talking to me as if I were Tojo.”

  “You might tell the wrong person. Loose lips sink ships.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge now was certain that the division was going to New Guinea. The next objective was to find out when. A blond nurse came into his field of vision. She was just arriving, and her name was Diane Latham. Lieutenant Breckenridge knew her slightly because she worked on the ward where Sergeant Butsko, his former platoon sergeant, was laid up.

  “Hey, Jack,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said, “you wanna get laid?”

  The change of subject was too quick for Lieutenant Utsler. “Huh?”

  “I asked you if you wanna get laid.”

  “I always wanna get laid.”

  “Turn around casually and look at that blond nurse over there.”

  Lieutenant Utsler took his time about it, shifting his feet and glancing in the direction Lieutenant Breckenridge had indicated.

  “Like her?” Lieutenant Breckenridge ask
ed.

  “She’s quite attractive.”

  “She’s a great fuck too,” Lieutenant Breckenridge lied. He didn’t know anything about Nurse Latham, but he was trying to con Lieutenant Utsler.

  “You’re such a crude bastard,” Utsler said.

  “She’s a great fuck anyway.”

  “How would you know?”

  “How do you think I know? Would you like to meet her?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge leaned closer. “When are we going to New Guinea?”

  “You son of a bitch, you’re blackmailing me!”

  “She’s real good in bed, Jack. And she’s easy.”

  “She’s probably waiting for her boyfriend.”

  “She’s waiting for you, Jack. You can be her boyfriend—if you want. You’re just her type. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Lieutenant Utsler looked at the blonde and wondered what it would be like to bury his head in her lovely breasts.

  “When are we going to New Guinea?” Lieutenant Breckenridge asked.

  “You sure you’re not going to tell anybody?”

  “I’m sure. Besides, we’re all going to know pretty soon anyway, so what does it matter?”

  “That’s true.”

  “When are we going to New Guinea, Jack?”

  “You say she’s a real easy fuck?”

  “She’ll be real easy for you, because you’re her type.”

  “How do you know I’m her type?”

  “Trust me, I know. How soon are we moving out?”

  “About a month, but for Chrissakes, don’t tell anybody.”

  “You can trust me. Where are we going in New Guinea?”

  “We don’t know yet. Probably somewhere west of Hollandia.”

  “Thanks, Jack. You’re a pal. I’ll never forget this.”

  “Now you can introduce me to the blonde. Jesus, she’s surrounded by guys already. We’ll never get through them.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You just stay here and I’ll bring her over.”

  “She’s a real easy fuck, you say?”

  “All you got to do is get her alone someplace and put her hand on it. That gets her real hot and bothered. She’ll take it from there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you, Jack. Why are you suspicious, for crying out loud?”

  “Because you’re a shady character, Dale.”

  “Me? A shady character? Why am I a shady character?”

  “Because of the enlisted men you hang around with. They’re all a bunch of criminals and wise guys, and you must be just like them, since you get along with them so well.”

  “Hey, I don’t hang around with them,” Lieutenant Breckenridge said. “They’re not my buddies. They’re my men. I’m their platoon leader. You know what it’s like, Jack. You’re in the same Army I’m in—I think. You should understand, but anyway, you just stand right where you’re standing and try to appear to be a nice guy while I go get Diane. That’s her name—Diane. Be calm and don’t come in your pants or anything like that when I bring her over, because she likes guys who’re relaxed and sure of themselves. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. I’ll be right back. And smile, for Chrissakes. Nobody wants to meet a sourpuss.”

  Jack smiled, revealing straight white teeth, but he was nervous and felt awkward, and his lips did funny things. Lieutenant Breckenridge walked toward Diane Latham, who was standing in the middle of a bunch of officers, because male officers outnumbered nurses and WAC officers by forty to one in the officers’ club. Lieutenant Breckenridge pushed his way through the throng and put himself into her line of vision.

  “Hi, Lieutenant Latham,” he said. “Remember me?”

  She smiled. “Sure. You’re the one who visits Sergeant Butsko every day.”

  He placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her away from the others. “I have to talk to you about something important,” he said, a note of urgency in his voice.

  “What is it?” she asked, surprised, because she hardly knew Lieutenant Breckenridge.

  “It’ll only take a moment.”

  The other officers said “Wait a minute!” and “Where are you going?” but Lieutenant Breckenridge maneuvered Diane Latham away from them and stood with her next to one of the three-foot-square wood-paneled pillars that held up the roof.

  Diane Latham was amazed by the ease with which he was manipulating her, and knew she was being manipulated, but was curious about what he had to say.

  “Listen,” he said, “do you see that officer leaning against the wall over there?”

  “What officer?” she asked.

  “The one behind me.”

  “You mean the one grinning like a hyena?”

  “That one.”

  “What about him?”

  “He’s in trouble.”

  “He doesn’t look like he’s in trouble.”

  “Well, he is. The smile is his last desperate stab at sanity.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He needs to talk to a female. He’s very lonely, and he’ll be shipping out pretty soon. He might be dead this time next week. Will you talk to him for me?”

  “Why doesn’t he find somebody to talk to on his own?”

  “He’s a little shy.”

  “He doesn’t look shy.”

  “Well, he is.”

  “Why doesn’t he go to one of the whorehouses in Honolulu?”

  “Because he’s from a fine old Massachusetts family, and people like him don’t do things like that. Besides, he wants to talk to a decent girl, like you, not one of those raunchy old whores.”

  She was drinking a whiskey sour and sipped some of the foam. “I’ve heard that some of those whores are as beautiful as movie stars.”

  “But they’ve got raunchy hearts. They’re not nice girls, like you.”

  “What makes you think I’m so nice?”

  “Because Sergeant Butsko says so, and I can tell just by looking at you.”

  “Well, you look nice too.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well . . . ah . . . I . . . listen, please talk to that poor officer over there for a while, will you? Just a few minutes. He’d really appreciate it, and so would I.”

  “You would?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “He looks awfully strange.”

  “You’d look awfully strange too if they were going to ship you to the front lines in about a week. Will you do it?”

  “Okay, but only for a little while.”

  “Good. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  She stood as if waiting for him to say something else, and he realized she wanted him to ask her out. She likes me! he realized. He thought it amazing how some women fell for you when you least expected it, and other women wouldn’t give you the right time of day.

  “Listen,” he said, “what are you doing later?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Let’s have a drink together.”

  “What time?”

  “I’ll meet you here at eight o’clock.”

  “I don’t want to stay here that long. Meet me at the nurses’ residence.”

  “Fine. Let me have your address and phone number.”

  She told him the information, and he wrote it in the little note pad he always carried in his shirt pocket.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said with a wink. “Be gentle with that officer over there.”

  “What did you say his name was?”

  “Jack Utsler. Lieutenant Jack Utsler. I’ve got to be going. Be good and stay sweet. ‘Bye.”

  “ ‘Bye.”

  Lieutenant Breckenridge walked swiftly toward the door and didn’t look back over his shoulder to find out what was going on. He didn’t want to know what was going on. Hordes of officers were in the anteroom and he sidestepped them, feeling guilty for lying to
the nice nurse, but he’d had to find out if they were going to New Guinea and when they were going. Colonel Hutchins would want to know as soon as possible. So would everybody else.

  He stepped outside. The sun was a big red ball dropping toward the horizon. He wondered what Jack was saying to the nurse and what the nurse was saying to Jack. What a mess that was going to be. He decided he shouldn’t see her later at eight o’clock as he’d promised, because she’d probably shoot him dead. On the other hand, if he didn’t keep his date with her tonight, he’d see her tomorrow in the hospital when he went to see Butsko, his good old platoon sergeant, whom he visited every day. Maybe he’d have to go to the hospital when she wasn’t on duty. He’d call and find out what the schedule was for that ward. Yes, that was the way to go about it. And he wouldn’t see her tonight, because he didn’t want to get shot.

  He approached the jeep and saw Frankie dozing behind the wheel.

  “Wake up, La Barbara!”

  Frankie jumped three inches into the air. “Huh! What!”

  “It’s me.” Lieutenant Breckenridge climbed into the jeep. “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back to regiment. Hurry up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Frankie backed the jeep out of its parking spot and drove off, heading toward the headquarters of the Twenty-third Infantry Regiment.

  They arrived fifteen minutes later. Lieutenant Breckenridge got out of the jeep; Frankie kept going, to check the jeep in at the motor pool.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge looked at his watch as he approached the wooden building, which was painted pale yellow, like everything else on the post. It was six-thirty, and the molten sun had not yet set behind the horizon. The sun cast long shadows from the palm trees planted in front of the headquarters building, and a dog yapped in the distance.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge entered the orderly room, and Lieutenant Weslowska sat behind the sergeant major’s desk. Lieutenant Weslowska was the officer of the day, which meant he had to sit at the desk all night and handle any problems that might come up. The sergeant major and his various aides had gone home for the night.