“Neither do I,” Frangie says, but grins as she adds, “but if it comes to it I’ll take the extra pay.”
“Nah, I can’t . . . ,” Rio says. “I don’t want that . . . that responsibility. You two don’t get it. The sergeant is the . . . the . . .” She shrugs helplessly.
“The one who leads his people into the valley of the shadow of death,” Frangie says, earning a snort from Rio.
The car runs along the base of the cliffs, white chalk rising abruptly to their left, the English Channel on their right.
“Driver?” Rainy says suddenly. “Can you pull over? I want to look.”
They climb out, breath steaming in the cold. They stand side by side, looking out across the water, three young soldiers in their best uniforms, newly adorned with the Silver Star.
“France is over there about twenty miles or so,” Rainy says. “In a few weeks or months a very large number of GIs are going to land on some beach over there.”
They stare some more, and Rio lights a cigarette. She’s landed on beaches in North Africa, in Sicily, and on the mainland of Italy. This time will be worse. This time the Germans will know the Allies are coming in earnest. This time it will be to the death.
Rainy says, “Some of those GIs will get hurt, and they’ll need a medic.”
Frangie nods. “Too few medics, too many hurt boys.”
“Well, they’ll have one with a Silver Star,” Rainy says, and claps a hand on Frangie’s shoulder.
“I guess they will,” Frangie says with a sigh.
“But will they have sergeants?” Rainy moves to stand right in front of Rio. “When they found me, when I finally figured out that I was safe, you know what kept going through my head, Richlin?”
Rio shakes her head.
“I am not some wild-eyed patriot,” Rainy says softly. “When I started out I trusted in orders. I trusted my superiors. Well, I don’t trust so much anymore, but even . . . before . . . even before, I don’t think anyone would ever have mistaken me as a sentimental person or an uncritical person.”
That earns a wry smile from both Rio and Frangie.
“But what went through my head, again and again, as I . . .” She fights through the tightening of her throat. “As I lay there in my own piss and blood, what I thought was, thank God for the US Army.” Then in a whisper, “Thank God for the US fugged-up-beyond-all-recognition Army.”
“Dammit,” Rio says, and wipes angrily at a tear.
“And you know what, Sergeant Richlin? There’s a whole bunch of people, millions of them, right over there, right across that water, who are praying for the US Army. And a bunch of green kids from Alabama and Nebraska are going to jump out of planes and go running out of boats trying to be that army. Half of them won’t know which end of a rifle to point at the Krauts. You know what those green kids will need? You know what all those GIs and all those millions of people over there will need?”
Rio grits her teeth, willing herself not to be swayed, not to be influenced by high-flown words.
“They’ll need people who know how to fight and how to keep guys from getting killed,” Rainy says. “What do we call those people, Richlin? What do we call those people, Rio Richlin from Cow Paddy or Bugtussle or wherever the hell you’re from?”
Rio shakes her head from side to side, negation but . . . but also acceptance. Yes, she is swayed by Rainy’s words, but wasn’t it always inevitable? Was she ever really going to run away and sell war bonds?
Rainy takes Rio’s shoulders in her hands and says, “Honey, I hate to tell you, but they call those people sergeants.”
Rio gazes out across the steel-gray water, out across the whitecaps, past the gray navy ships patrolling. She sees her father, warning her not to play hero, to keep her head down. She sees her mother, crying that she can’t lose another daughter, not again.
She gazes into a future of sunshine and fresh-baked muffins and the happy children she will have with Strand. Maybe.
And then she sees Geer and Pang, Cat and Beebee. She sees Stick and Jack. And Jenou. She even sees that green fool from the pub and a million like him, ignorant, lost, blustering, clueless idiots who will probably not last five minutes once the shooting starts.
And she sees Cassel.
And Suarez.
And Magraff.
“So,” Rio says at last. “Just what is the pay for sergeants?”