Johnnie (2 page)

The thin one wasn’t doing any talking, just nodding every once in a while to show he wasn’t a stiff, or maybe it was the subway that jerked his head. But the thin one could be a Nazi. If there’d been a monocle over that glass eye, Johnnie would have known he was one. He couldn’t make up his mind about these two; he only knew they hadn’t ought to talk the enemy language with a war on. The more hochs and achs and ichs he heard, the more it annoyed him. He had really made up his mind to say something when the car pulled up into another station. The fat man pushed to the door, the thin one stood up and followed him.

Johnnie followed both of them. He didn’t think, at all then, just like when he followed the parade in Newark. He simply walked on out the door after them.

He followed them up the soiled cement steps into the fresh air. When he got up there he didn’t know what to do next or why he’d done this much. They’d crossed the street to the left, the near side, and were heading back downtown. The fat one was still talking.

Johnnie rubbed his ear. He didn’t know what to do. He finally decided. Being as he’d gone this far he might as well finish it up. He’d tell that guy to stop talking German. They were half way down the block before Johnnie started loping after them. He could have caught up easy enough but his first spirit dwindled. What could you say to two perfect strangers, that is, in a nice way. Easy enough to tap old Pudge on his shoulder and say, “Listen, Bub. Speak United States. Don’t you know we’re in a war?” But that might spell trouble. And trouble was one thing Uncle Sam’s uniforms were supposed to stay out of in the city. Sure as there’d be trouble, two M. P.’s, clubs and all, would pop out of the manhole cover and little old Johnnie Brown wouldn’t be at liberty to see Grant’s Tomb and the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building tomorrow. No, it had to be done in a polite way.

By now Johnnie knew it had to be done. He wasn’t taking this walk for the exercise. He’d walked enough in the last few months to last him a lifetime. Every time he thought about walking, his dogs started barking. Yet here he was walking on his pass and it wasn’t going to be for nothing. Besides he’d have to have some excuse for being late at the Astor. If he hurried it up, maybe he wouldn’t be late.

At that moment the small fat and taller thin turned left at the corner. Johnnie speeded up again. They’d crossed to the right of this street and were trotting past a row of houses, long, tall houses, each one exactly alike and each one looking like something out of an old fairy tale book. A whole street of fairy tale houses, with only little chinks of light showing under the window shades. Not very friendly looking. Johnnie slowed again. He might scare these guys if he went up now and tapped their shoulders. If someone pawed his back in the dark, he’d turn and slug. He looked over his shoulder quick but nobody was behind him. Quite a ways back was a guy cruising down the street minding his own business. That was all.

Johnnie faced front again. This time he heard it distinct. Hitler. The thin one was saying it, “Hitler,” maybe even, “Heil Hitler.” If so, Johnnie’d missed the Heil part of it. Hitler was enough. It made Johnnie mad. He was sure now these goats were spies and he knew he was going to do something about it. He was a soldier in the United States Army and if he was worth his salt he wasn’t going to let a couple of Nazi spies walk around loose. He’d knock their heads together and drag them to the nearest police station. Two against one didn’t bother him. He’d had some Commando training back at the camp in Texas. Besides he was bigger than both of them together.

While he was seeing red, the two men were climbing up the stone steps of one of the houses in the middle of the block. Pudgey was still talking while he pushed a doorbell. Before Johnnie could make it to the steps, the door opened a yellow streak. Pudgey said something. Someone inside made a sound like, “Errdorp.” The guys went inside. The streak of yellow blacked out.

Johnnie walked on by. He marched past identical houses and then the street ended, like that. He turned right about face and marched back six houses; he’d counted them. There was only one thing to do. See if he could get inside that house. If he couldn’t he’d at least get the street number. You couldn’t see a thing from here on account of the brownout.

His G. I. boots clapped up the steps. He stuck his finger in the doorbell, left it there. Finally the yellow streak showed up again. Standing inside it was a pasty-faced young squirt with a red necktie on. Johnnie coughed. “Errdorp.”

For a moment it didn’t look as if it were going to work. The kid looked hard at him but he couldn’t see much, peering out into the dark. Then he said, “Come in.” He stepped aside.

Johnnie walked in. Just like that. He stood in a small hallway. There was one light in the ceiling, dark red carpeting on the floors, dark red paper on the walls. The staircase went right up a few paces from the front door. There was one straight chair in the hall, an old-fashioned hall tree against the staircase, and a green china umbrella stand at the foot of the stairs. There were four umbrellas sticking out of the umbrella stand. There wasn’t a sign of a derby or a coat on the hall tree.

The squirt was giving Johnnie a good look now, a suspicious one. Mostly he was eyeing Johnnie’s uniform. He didn’t do so well on Johnnie’s face. He had to crane up to it. He finally asked, part suspicion, part just plain wondering, “You are to see Herr Dorp?”

“Yeah,” Johnnie said. Errdorp was either the fat guy or he was somebody that Pudgey was calling on. Either way it didn’t matter.

“Wait here,” Squirt said. He pulled aside the brown chenille drapes at the left and Johnnie went on in the parlor. He heard the squirt going up the stairs.

Johnnie felt fine as soon as he looked around the room. It reminded him of Aunt Clotilda’s parlor up in Pampa. There was even a green velvet cover on top of the upright piano with little green balls of fringe dangling down over the music stand. There were old-fashioned plush-covered chairs, two of them rockers. There was a black sofa that looked hard as a rock and he bet it was. The chairs and sofa had crocheted doilies pinned on them. There was a worn red carpet all over the floor, with some scatter rugs over the wornest parts. He didn’t kick them up to make sure but he knew he’d find loose threads if he did. Aunt Clotilda’s carpet was that way. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling almost bopped him on the head when he walked under it. Four lights in it, converted from gas when electricity came in. And a gas fireplace under a golden oak mantel with a lozenge-shaped mirror set in it.

Johnnie stood in front of the mirror and stretched his mouth right and left. He smirked pretty and then he made his mouth an O. He jerked off his garrison cap. Mind your manners, soldier! He stuffed it in his pocket. He slicked back his yellow cowlick and said out loud, “Damn.” Even a G. I. haircut couldn’t take out all the curl. Didn’t curl so bad down home except in summer when he got sweated. Back East with the ocean only a spit and a holler away, he couldn’t keep it plastered down.

One thing in this room wasn’t like Aunt Clotilda’s. She had pictures of the family in big gold frames. Here there was a flower garden, and a castle on a river, and a sailing ship. All in nice bright colors. Johnnie turned back to the mirror. He wrinkled his nose. Then he stuck his right forefinger over his upper lip, puffed up his cheeks and squeaked, “Heil Hitler.”

The folding doors at the back of the room took that particular moment to go click. Johnnie swung around. He was blushing like sixty. He knew it because even his ears were hot. A girl was digging him from the opening. Evidently she hadn’t seen his imitation because she didn’t look poisonous. And she certainly hadn’t known he was in the room. If she had she wouldn’t have stood there stock still with her big blue eyes flabbergasted on him.

She was a cute little half-pint. Her legs were covered up in gray slacks ending with saddle oxfords and butter yellow socks. Above the belt was a butter yellow sweater and she was built for sweaters. She had yellow curly hair and a face sort of like Sonja Henie. Not that cute. Not even Sonja Henie could be as cute as Sonja Henie looked. But this girl would come close to it.

She finally managed to get her mouth open. What came out wasn’t promising. She gaped, “What do you want?”

Johnnie might be cowed by the superior experience of his friends, Hank and Bill, but not by a babe. In fact he had a slogan, paraphrased, which he employed in dealing with all females who were not wives, mothers or grandmothers. It was: Never give a babe an even break. He smiled cheerfully at this member of the sex. He spoke with appreciation, “Hi ya, Babe.”

She came into the room on that and she clicked the doors shut behind her. She hadn’t paid any attention at all to his friendly advance. She was if anything more menacing than before. She demanded, “What are you doing here?”

He said, “I’m waiting to see Errdorp.”

“Herr Dorp? Is he expecting you?”

“He ought to be. The Squirt”—he jerked his hand toward the hall—“went up to tell him ten minutes ago.”

He had a small wince at the time lapse. Bill and Hank would get to the Astor first. They wouldn’t like wasting time waiting. And Hank could be plenty tough. Johnnie took another gander at the babe and dismissed his conscience. They wouldn’t wait long. They’d lost him before. He smiled his best at her.

She wasn’t paying any heed. She was gasping again. “He couldn’t. Herr Dorp is in conference.” She put her eye on Johnnie. “Did Herr Dorp send for you?”

“Well, not exactly,” Johnnie admitted.

“Who are you?” It wasn’t any simple question. She was trying to figure out where she’d seen him before or what he was doing here or something.

He drew himself up. “I’m Johnnie Brown and no cracks about Harpers Ferry. I’m from Texas.”

She demanded, “Why do you want to see Herr Dorp?”

Fat chance I’d tell you, sister, said Johnnie silently to Johnnie. This babe was just gunning for a chance to show him the door. He began, “We-l-l, there’s something I want to talk to him about.”

The girl pushed back her shoulders. The sweater fit even better that way. “Herr Dorp can’t possibly see you tonight, Private Brown.”

“Private First Class Brown,” he interjected. “But you can call me Johnnie.”

She went right on without a flicker. “He is very busy. If you will come some other time he would be glad to talk to you.”

“Haven’t got no other time,” Johnnie told her. “My pass is only good until Sunday morning and I got a busy day lined up for tomorrow. Besides I’m a stranger. I’d never find my way back. I guess I’ll just have to see him now. Won’t take but a couple of minutes.” He sat down on the plushy arm of the green chair.

She almost stamped a foot. “I tell you he can’t see you. He is in a most important conference. He won’t have time to see you.”

Johnnie grinned. “Reckon I’ll wait and see what Squirt has to say when he comes downstairs.”

“Theo isn’t coming downstairs,” she stated firmly. “There’s more important things for him to do right now.”

“Did he tell Herr Dorp I was here?”

“He didn’t get a chance to open his mouth. As soon as he came in he was given instructions—” She did stamp her foot this time. “Why am I telling you all of this? It’s nothing to you. Now will you please get out of here. Right now!”

Johnnie set the chair to rocking. “Who are you? Herr Dorp’s daughter?”

“I am not.”

“What’s your name?”

“Will you please get out?” She softened just a little. “Believe me, I advise you to get out—now.” She didn’t say, “while you can,” but it was almost on the tip of her tongue.

“Before you call the police?” he asked. He knew right away then that he wasn’t going to get out until he had a heart to heart talk with this Herr Dorp. There was some hanky panky here. Even a guy from Texas could see that. The way her eyes jumped when he said, “police,” and the way they looked quick to the brown chenille drapes. He looked too but nobody was peeking through them. He talked easy now, “Because if you want to, you just go right ahead and call them. There’s nothing they can do to me. I didn’t break in. The squirt—Theo—let me in.” He looked under his eyes at her. “I’ll even be pleased to tell the police what I want to talk to Herr Dorp about.”

She put the tip of her tongue between her lips. “Why don’t you tell me?” she coaxed. “If it’s important I can take the message to Herr Dorp—” She broke off.

He’d heard the car too. She started on a run to the front windows. When she passed Johnnie she gave him a push back toward the sliding doors. “Get in there and don’t make a light.”

He didn’t understand but he was used to taking orders. That was the Army for you. Especially orders from that top sergeant tone of voice. He backed to the doors, slid them, kept backing.

She was peeking between the window curtains. Her voice came muted but insistent over her shoulder. “Watch out for the—”

She didn’t have to finish the sentence. She didn’t have to tell him to watch out for the buckets. He’d found them. There was a noise like the house crashing down but it was only he and the buckets. Here in the dark he didn’t know what he’d fallen into; he only knew it felt cold and gooey. He said all the swear words he knew.

She’d run back to him and she was adding her share. “I said, ‘Watch out!’” she told him in disgust.

“Not soon enough,” he complained. He picked himself up clammily.

She was gazing upward. “I guess they’re too busy to investigate.”

He took one step toward the light.

“Don’t you come in here!” she warned. “Don’t you track that stuff in the parlor!”

“What is it?”

“Paste,” she said.

He recognized it now, smell and unpleasant texture. He shifted his feet. They felt as if he was standing in a mess of taffy.

“Thank heavens that car went by,” she continued. “The paper hangers left their stuff. They didn’t get finished this morning.” She eyed him wearily. “Now what can I do with you?”

“If you’ll tell that Herr Dorp—”

One ear cocked toward the window, she broke in. “Take off that suit.”

He was alarmed. “I can’t do that. It’s against regulations.”