The Hammerhead Division arranged itself in parade formation outside of the town of Gondreville. The American advance had been so rapid that the town hadn’t been bombed, and scouts reported that the Germans had left two days ago. Upon receiving this information, General Naughton decided to stage a victory parade through the town and then resume pursuit of Germans on the other side.
The Hammerhead Band was brought up from the rear and lined up at the front of the division. General Naughton and his staff would follow the band, and then would come all the regiments and battalions of the Hammerhead Division, followed by their tankers and artillery batteries.
When all was ready, an aide gave the signal and the band started up with John Phillip Sousa’s Washington Post March. The bandmaster raised his baton in the air and moved it forward. The band stepped out, with the entire Hammerhead Division behind it.
The townspeople knew they were coming and lined the main street of town. French flags flew from balconies and the girls wore their finest dresses. In front of the town hall, a local band played the Marseillaise. Little children gleefully ran up and down the streets, and old men stood on the curb and smoked pungent French cigarettes, wondering what their liberators looked like.
The bandmaster moved his baton up and down and the Hammerhead Division followed him into Gondreville. Housewives threw bouquets of flowers at the grimy American soldiers and old men slipped them bottles of brandy. French children rushed at the American soldiers, but M.P.’s and local policemen kept them back.
One by one the Hammerhead companies marched into Gondreville. General Naughton stopped at the town hall and shook hands with the mayor and local priest. The Hammerhead band formed ranks to the side of the town hall and continued playing the Washington Post March because it was the only song they knew. General Naughton stood at attention and prepared to take the march-past.
His headquarters company was the first one on the line and its commanding officer screamed: “Hiiiiiggghhhhhs right!” The guide-on flags came down and the soldiers moved their eyes forty-five degrees to the right. The company officers saluted and General Naughton returned the salute. His headquarters company looked neat and soldierly, but then his regular front line companies marched by and they were ragged and filthy, unshaven and frequently out of step, but their chins were high and their shoulders were back, because they all knew that they were winners.
Farther back, just entering the town, was Charlie Company of the First Battalion. Captain Kirk was in front, marching along stiffly with his chin tucked in, just the way they’d taught him at West Point. A lanyard dangled from his forty-five holster and he looked straight ahead, trying to ignore the cheering of the ecstatic French people.
Behind him were his two platoon leaders—his other two had been killed in the fighting—and behind them, all alone in the middle of the street, was First Sergeant Botcho, chewing a wad of tobacco and looking like a dog who wanted to bite somebody.
Then came the rest of Charlie Company, and Mahoney was on the right side of the second platoon rank, carrying a German submachine gun at sling arms, with clips of German bullets sticking out of his belt, pockets, and shirt. Beside him was Corporal Cranepool carrying a carbine at sling arms and a German Luger in his back pocket.
Mahoney’s helmet was on the back of his head, and he was in a good mood. Under his breath he was singing the ribald lyrics to the Washington Post March:
“Oh the monkey wrapped his tail around the flagpole to show his asshole to the world … ”
The people cheered and threw flowers. Housewives blew kisses at the soldiers and young girls waved. The old men cried, remembering their victory marches after the First World War. Somebody handed Mahoney a bottle of cognac, and he took a swig, then passed it to Cranepool. Thus the bottle began to make the rounds of the second platoon.
The sound of the band came closer as Charlie Company neared the town hall. The cognac made Mahoney feel lighter and he puffed his chest out proudly. In the corner of his eye he saw some pretty girls. They waved to him and blew him kisses. Children screamed and old ladies waved handkerchiefs.
It was bedlam in front of the town hall, and Mahoney saw the guidons go down. He snapped into an eyes-right and marched past the review stand, seeing the officials of the town and all the Hammerhead brass. General Naughton stood in front of them all, saluting Charlie Company as it marched by.
General Naughton passed from Mahoney’s line of vision, and in the corner of his eye he saw the guidons go up. He looked ahead again and saw beautiful French girls holding out bottles of wine. He took one of them and a group of street urchins broke through the MPs and gendarmes. The urchins ran toward the American soldiers, pulling on their uniforms and kissing their hands.
Pandemonium broke loose as the townspeople charged through the opening made by the kids. Waving flags, holding bottles of wine, they ran toward the American soldiers and embraced them. People in the buildings threw down flowers and confetti, and the parade came to a halt as the people of Gondreville shook hands with the American soldiers, kissed them, and thanked them for driving the Boche away.
Mahoney picked up a little kid and put him on his shoulder. He shook hands with an old man and was kissed by an old lady. He was jostled by the crowds as a young nun walked up to him and shook his hand. She said: “God bless you,” in French, and Mahoney said: “Merci.”
Turning around, he saw a beautiful woman of thirty with big boobs and long brown hair. She held out her arms to Mahoney, and he lowered the kid to the ground.
“Bienvenue,” the woman said with a wink.
She had a wedding ring on her hand, but Mahoney didn’t give a shit. He clasped her in his big arms and she pressed her hands against the back of his neck. Their lips found each other and they kissed in the middle of the street, as the crowds swirled around them, and the band played on.