Chapter 23
BRIGADIER GENERAL WILLIAM B. WILSON of the Quartermaster Depot in Algiers leaned back at his desk and shouted across the room to his deputy in a rich Southern accent: “Ham, listen to this, goddamit, sometimes I think those English think they own us.”
The Colonel addressed as Ham looked up from the Stars & Stripes. “What have the limeys done now?” he asked.
“Just got this letter, damnedest thing I ever saw,” the General said. “It’s from an American major, too, just goes to show how those glib bastards can put it over on us if we don’t watch ‘em.”
The Colonel called Ham said: “Yeah, they sure are good talkers.”
“Listen here, now, he says: `Am writing you at the suggestion o f Major General His Excellency Lord Runcin’ - that fancy bastard. I met him one time down at the Aletti, and I just happened to say, like anyone does who’s a gentleman when he says good-bye, I said to him: `If there’s anything I can ever do for you, just let me know.’ He came right back at me and said: `I may,’ he said, `you Americans have everything, you know.’ So damn if I didn’t get a letter from him about two weeks later reminding me of what I said and asking me if I’d get him a jeep. Well, this Amgot thing sounded pretty important to me, so I just about busted my neck to wangle him a jeep. Soon as he got that he wrote me a thank-you note and asked me if the Americans had any pipes, that he was lost without a pipe, and could I get him one? So I got him a pipe. Then I had to get him an electric razor, for godsake. Then he wrote me that chewing gum was such a curiosity among his staff, would I get him a large box of chewing gum? He even had the nerve to ask me to get him a case of whisky, he said he got a ration of rum and gin, but all the Scotch was imported to the States, so would I mind terribly nailing him a case of Scotch? I made up my mind I was never going to get him another thing after that, even if I got sent home.”
“What’s he want now?”
“He doesn’t want it, this Major of ours wants it, that’s what makes me mad. Old Runcin seems to think I’m a one-man shopping service, and he goes around recommending to people to write me all their screwy things they want.”
“Well, what does this guy want?” “Jesus, Ham, he wants a bell.” “What the hell for?”
“He says here: `I consider it most important for the morale and continued good behavior of this town to get it a bell to replace the one which was taken away as per above.’ I don’t know, something about a seven-hun dred-year-old bell. But that’s not the point, Ham. The thing that makes me mad is this English bastard thinking he owns us.”
The Colonel named Ham, who was expert at saying Yes to his superiors and No to his inferiors, said: “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“They do it all the time, Ham. You watch, an Englishman will always eat at an American mess if he gets a chance. Look at Lend-Lease, why hell, we’re just giving it to ‘em. And don’t you think they’ll ever pay us for it. They won’t even thank us for it, Ham.”
The Colonel named Ham said: “I doubt if they will.” “I know they won’t. And look at the way they’re trying to run the war. They got their officers in all the key spots. Ham, we’re just winning this damn war for the British Empire.”
The Colonel named Ham said: “That’s right, I guess “No sir, I’m damned if I’ll root around and find a bell for this goddam sponger of an Englishman. Where the hell does he think I’m going to find a seven-hundredyear-old bell? No sir, Ham, I won’t do it. Write a letter to this Major, will you, Ham?”
“Yes sir, what’ll I say?”
“Lay it on, dammit, tell him the U.S. Army doesn’t have a stock of seven-hundred-year-old bells, tell him he should realize there is a war on, tell him to watch out for these goddam Englishmen or they’ll take the war right away from us.”
“Yes sir.”