They smoked their cigarettes in silence, leaning against the jeep, the silent, staring Sergeant Clare between them. After a while, General Austin seemed to tire of bawling out the poor officers and started down the stairs. As always, close behind him was Miss Harcourt. They were an incongruous pair, she tall, thin, elegant; he short, thick, and common-looking. It was said that when he was sixteen a judge gave him a choice of jail or the army. It was also told that the general said the army was exactly like gang warfare except with better food, and that he’d bullied his way to the top. Whatever he’d done to achieve where he was, he was brilliant at warfare.
The corporal and the captain stood at attention as the general drew near, and the captain wished he’d dragged Sergeant Clare away. Austin would blame the nearest person for Clare’s inability to function—and that meant Captain Owens.
But he’d underestimated Sergeant Clare. As the general approached, the sergeant snapped back into the world and opened the passenger door for him.
Whatever complaints there were about the general, he was courteous to Miss Harcourt. Before her, his secretaries had to be replaced every three months. A couple of the young women had been sent home, as their nerves were at the breaking point. The men said, “Bombs don’t bother them, but Austin puts them in a hospital.”
Miss Harcourt had been assigned to him nearly a year ago. There was a story the newcomers were told after their usual flowers and candy had been unsuccessful, about the first time the general yelled at Miss Edi. No one knew the full story, but she drew herself up to her full height, looked down her long nose at him, and said she’d like to see him in private. When the doors were closed, everyone pressed his or her ear up against them to hear, but Miss Harcourt’s voice was low and quiet. They did manage to hear words like bully and never again dare and respect.
In the past year, those words had been greatly embellished and the story enhanced into legend status. It was rumored that when Mrs. Austin met Miss Harcourt, she hugged her much harder than she did her husband, and was much more concerned with Miss Harcourt’s comfort than she was with that of her husband.
Whatever the truth was, General Austin treated Miss Harcourt with the utmost courtesy. He got in the back of the jeep, then waited patiently for her to take the passenger seat in front. While the sergeant got in, she handed General Austin a folder. “You might want to read that,” she said.
The captain and the corporal watched the old man obediently take the folder and open it.
“Listen,” the captain said so only Sergeant Clare could hear him, “you might as well give up now. You can’t win her.”
Sergeant David Clare gave the captain a look he’d seen many times before. It said that no one had won her because he hadn’t tried.
Sergeant Clare started the jeep and maneuvered it through the many vehicles and people around them.
“So where are you from?” he asked Miss Harcourt.
“I think you should watch the road.”
David gave a couple of twists to the steering wheel to miss a truck and went between a man on crutches and two pretty girls. That the tires almost ran over the man’s foot and the side of the jeep grazed the women’s skirts didn’t bother him. The man raised a crutch and shouted at him and the two girls giggled. In the back, General Austin glanced up from the papers he was pretending to read and gave a little smirk. There was nothing he liked better than seeing a man make a fool of himself over his secretary.
“The South,” David said. “I can hear it in your voice.”
Edi didn’t b
other to answer him.
“So where in the South?” David persisted. “Louisiana? No, too far south.” He looked her up and down as he jerked the vehicle around a deep pothole. “No, I can’t see you sharing a table full of boiled crab. You’re more the silver and china sort.”
Edi pointed toward the road, then had to grab the dashboard to keep from flying over it when David slammed on the brakes. In the back, the general dug his heels into the floorboard, but said nothing.
David waited while a truck drove across the road in front of them. “Georgia,” he said. “Maybe Savannah.” He looked at Edi for an answer, but she was silent.
“I’m from New York,” he said as he pushed on the accelerator, leaving about an inch between the jeep and the side of the truck. “I drive a cab there and I have a little garage. I can fix most anything that has a motor.”
David was looking at her and again almost hit another vehicle, this one as it unloaded four British officers. When he splashed water from a puddle on them, they shouted obscenities at him.
“Sergeant,” Edi said with her back teeth clenched, “I must insist that you stop talking and watch where you’re going. You have a very important passenger on board.”
“I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry about a thing.”
“Not me!” she snapped. “The general. You have General Austin on board.”
“Him?” David said, glancing in the mirror as the general put the folder up to hide his face. “He’s from New York. We have worse traffic than this in Manhattan. But you seem to be nervous.”
“I am not—” She broke off as she pointed to a big truck in front of them and another one coming toward them on the right.
“I see it. I’ll fix it,” David said as he gunned the jeep and went around the truck in front of them. For several long seconds, they were heading straight toward the oncoming truck. Edi grabbed the door and the top of the windshield. David swerved a second before they would have smashed into the oncoming truck, which was full of soldiers who cheered David’s daring. He blew the horn and waved as he passed.
“See?” David said. “You’re safe with me.”
Edi gave him a look of contempt even as she heard a noise from the general that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. But when she turned to him, he had the open folder in front of his face.