God, why did I ever get into such a mess! If I wasn’t sure that they’d pull me out, I’d have gone over the side straight. The way I felt then, I’d rather have died than be discovered. It was awful!
I found it necessary to hide out the following day: when I wasn’t with the General I managed to find other places to go—any place except the hole. And of course I was worried sick all day, and even then I wasn’t sure whether I’d escaped or just delayed again the inevitable moment of detection. This suspense certainly was hard on a girl’s nerves.
When I came in at night, Ben welcomed me with, “Well, Leony, you can thank me fer savin’ yer stars this time.”
“Why?” I inquired, at a loss to know what he was talking about.
“The top-kick’s been in here a dozen times lookin’ fer you, and every time I said you were busy as hell with the Gen.”
“And I suppose you forgot all about that doctor that’s been waitin’ specially to meet ya?” he suggested with a smile.
“No—I didn’t,” I declared. “But I just haven’t had time to chase after any doctors. I don’t need a doctor for anything anyway!”
“You don’t, eh?” He laughed. “Don’t kid me any more, buddy. I’m yer friend anyway.”
I began to wonder just what this big galoot had in his head. Did he suspect that I was avoiding the doctor. Apparently he did. What did he think my reason for this? Had he somehow become suspicious of my sex? All at once I felt panicky—actually like running away.
He continued to chew and spit, while I looked at him stupidly, trying to divine his thoughts. Finally he said, “You’re the last man in the world I’d think it of.”
“Think what of? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talkin’ about all right. And so do I. And I’m tellin’ ya to thank me fer savin’ yer goose.”
“Well, I told the sergeant the last time he came lookin’ fer ya that he ought to be ashamed of himself thinkin’ that a pure sweet boy like you would ever have anything like that!”
“And what did he say to that?” I asked, relieved at last.
“Said he’s gettin’ sick o’ huntin’ you.” Ben indulged in an expectorational feat and smiled at me knowingly. “An’ so I says, ‘Y’er wastin’ yer time, sergeant. Why’n’t ya just check him off and call it square?’”
“Said, ‘How the hell do I know but what he’s got seven varieties of venereal disease?’”