The jeep stopped in front of the command post tent of Charlie Company, and Higgins turned off the ignition switch.
“Well, here we are kiddo,” Mahoney said to Cranepool.
Cranepool wore the new fatigues and combat boots Mahoney had obtained from the quartermaster for him. He looked like the old Cranepool, the Cranepool of crap games and heroic deeds on the battlefield, instead of the demoralized mess who’d lain in a hospital bed earlier in the day. “Yep, here we are,” Cranepool replied.
“Listen kid, when we go in there to see Sergeant Tweed, let me do the talking, okay?”
“How come I gotta let you do the talking? How come I can’t talk?”
“Because it’ll be best that way.”
“How come it’ll be best that way? What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. Everything’s fine.” Mahoney smiled reassuringly.
Suddenly a terrible thought entered Cranepool’s mind. “Oh-oh,” he said.
“What’s the matter?” Mahoney asked.
“I got a sneaky feeling you lied to me, Sarge.”
“Me lie to you?”
“Yeah. I got a funny feeling that Captain Anderson really doesn’t know anything about this.”
Mahoney looked surprised. “What makes you think Captain Anderson knows something about it?”
“Because that’s what you told me in the hospital.”
“I said that?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“Well you did.”
“You must be having hallucinations.” Mahoney shrugged. “Captain Anderson doesn’t know a fuck-all about this.”
Cranepool closed his eyes. “I knew it. I’m AWOL from the hospital. Something told me you were lying to me in the hospital, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
Mahoney winked. “Maybe you should’ve believed it, but anyways, it’s too late for that now.”
“I’m AWOL,” Cranepool sighed. “Mother of Christ.”
“Stop turning my life into a soap opera,” Mahoney said. “Didn’t you tell me, on the day they took you away, that you were afraid you wouldn’t be sent back to Charlie Company?”
“Yes but...”
“Well you’re back in Charlie Company, so shut the fuck up.”
Higgins cleared his throat. “I gotta return this jeep,” he said. “Are youse two gonna talk all night?”
“He’s right,” Mahoney said. “He’s gotta return this rattletrap we’ve been riding in and he’s gotta pull maintenance on it too. Let’s go, Cranepool.”
Mahoney and Cranepool climbed out of the jeep, and Higgins drove off toward the motor pool.
“Is he as crazy as he used to be?” Cranepool asked, looking at the retreating jeep.
“It varies,” Mahoney replied, “but he’s a good man anyways. He got shot up a few days ago, but here he is trying to spring you out of the hospital, and do you appreciate it? No, you don’t.”
“I appreciate it,” Cranepool said. “But I’m afraid all of us are going to wind up in the stockade for this.”
“Let me handle it. C’mon, let’s go talk to Sergeant Tweed.”
“You think he’s still up?”
“Tweed never sleeps. He’s always up at night, just like a vampire.”
Mahoney pushed aside the tent flap and entered the field office of the First Sergeant of Charlie Company. Tweed was at his desk doing paperwork, and on the other side of the office, Pfc. Drago, the company clerk, was trying to get a head start on the next day’s morning report.
Tweed looked up at Mahoney and Cranepool, and then stared at Cranepool. “Where in the fuck did you come from?” he asked Cranepool.
Cranepool looked at Mahoney.
“He just came from the hospital,” Mahoney said.
“Who asked you?” said Tweed. “Can’t the little fucker talk anymore?”
Cranepool didn’t like to be called little, since he almost was six feet tall. “I just came from the hospital,” he said.
Tweed touched his ear. “I’m hearing echoes in this tent, I think.” He looked at Cranepool. “Where’s your orders, young soldier?”
Cranepool looked at Mahoney.
“He ain’t got no orders,” Mahoney said.
“How come he ain’t got no orders?”
“Because he ain’t got none.”
“Then what the fuck’s he doing here?”
Mahoney smiled and showed the palms of his hands. “Because he’s all better and he wanted to come back to his regular company.”
Tweed narrowed his eyes, and Cranepool thought Tweed did indeed look like a vampire.
“C’mon now,” Tweed said, “this ain’t his company unless there are orders that say this is his company.”
“Don’t be a hardass, Tweed,” Mahoney said. “If the kid stayed in the hospital, they would’ve transferred him to some company where he don’t know anybody and where he wouldn’t feel right. How would you feel if somebody dropped you into another company?”
“I couldn’t be any unhappier than I am in this fucked-up outfit.”
“Yeah, well Cranepool don’t feel that way.”
Tweed shook his head sadly. “Sounds to me like the little fucker is AWOL.”
“How can he be AWOL if he’s in his regular company?” Mahoney asked.
“This ain’t his regular company if he ain’t got orders.”
“Fuck orders,” Mahoney said.
“What do you think—you’re back in civilian life, Mahoney? If you go anywheres in this man’s Army, you gotta have orders.”
“Well,” Mahoney said, taking out a cigarette, “I was a first sergeant like you for awhile myself, and...”
“Wasn’t that at Fort Leonard Wood when you got thrown in the stockade for punching your C.O. in the mouth?”
“That has nothing to do with anything,” Mahoney said stiffly.
“Just thought I’d mention it,” Tweed replied, a little victorious smile on his face.
“Anyway,” Mahoney said, “when I was a first sergeant I knew how to get around regulations and I know just how I’d handle this.”
“Tell me,” said Tweed.
“I’d just write in the morning report that Cranepool was transferred back here as per division order number something, and make up a fucking number.” Mahoney lit his cigarette and took a puff.
“Just like that,” Tweed said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a court martial offense, fucking around with morning reports like that,” Tweed wheezed. “No wonder you’ve been in trouble ever since you’ve been in the Army, Mahoney. You never want to go by the book.”
“Fuck the book,” Mahoney replied. “Listen Tweed, if you do what I say, who’ll know the difference? We’re in the middle of a war and everything is fucked up in the whole ETO. Who’s gonna give a shit?”
“If somebody does, my ass’ll be in a sling.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t be able to produce the fucking orders if somebody asks for them, that’s why.”
Mahoney waved his hands in the air. “So you say they got blown up, Tweed! We’re a combat outfit! People and things get blown up all the time! Don’t be such an asshole all your life! You can’t go by the book all the goddamn time!”
Tweed nodded. “That’s true.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Tweed mumbled.
“You’re a good man, Tweed,” Mahoney said with a big smile. He leaned over the desk and slapped Tweed on the shoulder, nearly dislocating it.
“Thanks a lot, Sarge,” Cranepool said to Tweed. “I really appreciate it.”
“Both of you get the fuck out of here,” Tweed grumbled. “I got work to do.”