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Chapters (51)
  1. Introduction by Michael Bronski
  2. BEGINNING
  3. II
  4. III
  5. IV
  6. V
  7. VI
  8. VII
  9. VIII
  10. IX
  11. X
  12. XI
  13. XII
  14. XIII
  15. MIDDLE
  16. II
  17. III
  18. IV
  19. V
  20. VI
  21. VII
  22. VIII
  23. IX
  24. X
  25. XI
  26. XII
  27. XIII
  28. XIV
  29. XV
  30. XVI
  31. XVII
  32. XVIII
  33. XIX
  34. XX
  35. END
  36. II
  37. III
  38. IV
  39. V
  40. VI
  41. VII
  42. VIII
  43. IX
  44. X
  45. XI
  46. XII
  47. XIII
  48. XIV
  49. XV
  50. XVI
  51. About the Author

Her hands moved up to her cheeks. Her mind went back to another moment not many months ago, at home—a moment equally upsetting though far less frightening, because she had not understood it. She understood now. With all her aroused being she understood for the first time the meaning of the photograph which she had found under her husband’s desk blotter, the picture of the battle-exhausted marine which had absorbed and moved her when she found it, but which must have moved her husband still more. . . .

V

V

“. . . Sure! All the medals go to the Navy for shooting down a handful of Zeros now and then. But heck, there wouldn’t be any medals if it wasn’t for the Marines! There wouldn’t be any landing fields in the whole Pacific area if the Marines hadn’t gone in first and cleaned out the joints! There isn’t a single island—”

“I’m not arguing with you, Cliff,” Bill Howard said; “I’m just asking.”

Billie caught Grandin’s eye and smiled wanly. It was an expression of impatience not because Cliff was boasting about the Marines but only because the war was again under discussion. She got up pointedly.

“Look, everybody, why don’t we take pictures? I see you brought your camera along, Mr. Howard.”

“Why not?” Bill Howard pulled the camera from its case.

“I’d love to have a good snap of the whole group,” Billie said, “as a souvenir, sort of.”

“My god,” Sarah Howard said, “you don’t keep a memory book?”

“Of course I do,” Billie answered with spirit.

“Since Ethel isn’t here, count me out,” Grandin said. “I’ll do the picture-­taking.”

Billie became surprisingly alive. With an almost professional authority she supervised the grouping in the sand, then settled herself in the foreground in an attitude of charming smiling indolence. At her side, Cliff posed on one knee, his chest drawn up and his stomach pulled in, looking eagerly at Grandin and the camera. The Howards stood self-­consciously behind the Haumans; and just as he snapped the shutter, Sarah Howard made a face.

Then Bill Howard took over and the Haumans posed for a series of pictures separately and together. John Grandin sat in the sand and watched the performance—watched Cliff with a melancholy fascination.