Edge of Valor by John J. Gobbell

there?”
    â€œOnly because admission was free. No tickets required to see that jerk. Likes to be called Boom Boom.”
    â€œHe hates that name.”
    â€œWell, everyone was calling him that.”
    â€œOtis, let me tell you something. At sea, Jerry Landa is one of the best fighting sailors you’ll ever find. I’ve served with him for almost three years now and trust him with my life.”
    â€œThat’s what I’m afraid of.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhen Landa stops fighting, is farting all he knows in peacetime? You see what I mean?”
    â€œOtis, I—”
    DeWitt raised a hand. “Maybe I’m being too rough on the guy. I’ll see what I can do. But just getting you in is going to be really tight.”
    â€œSo, it’s going to be a big deal?”
    â€œA major deal. And it’s growing by the minute. The world press is being invited. Representatives from all the Allied nations. Everyone wants in. Yes, a very big deal.”
    Ingram sat back as DeWitt fished out a new pack of Lucky Strikes. Just then, Sutherland burst through the door. “Otis, you don’t mind if I—ah, look at that.”
    DeWitt stripped off the pack’s cellophane and slowly counted out ten cigarettes.
    Sutherland gave a deep mock bow and took them. “Thanks, Otis. I owe you.”
    â€œThat’s three packs so far.”
    Sutherland gave a great laugh. “There aren’t many people who could talk to me like that, cigarettes or not. Look, I sent one of the waiters off to the PX for a couple of cartons. That satisfy you?”
    â€œVery nice, General, thank you, sir.”
    â€œThe Japs love these too. American cigarettes. Great for negotiating. They’re going nuts in there.”
    â€œGlad to help out, General.”
    Sutherland produced a gold Ronson lighter and lit a Lucky Strike. Then he looked to Ingram. “How’s it going? You got it?”
    Ingram said, “Think so, General, except for one thing.”
    Both looked at him.
    â€œThis Walter Boring. What’s he do? What’s so big about him?”
    DeWitt and Sutherland exchanged glances. At length, Sutherland said, “I’m sorry, we can’t tell you that.”

Chapter Eight
    21 August 1945
    En route to Ie Shima Island, Okinawa Prefecture, Ryukyu Islands, Japan
    A fter a quick lunch, the convoy raced Ingram and the others back to Nichols Field for a 1330 takeoff. This time there were no angry Filipino crowds, just a desolate, smoldering city and MPs waving them through traffic. Time was of the essence because the Japanese had to transfer to their G4M2s at Ie Shima for a flight back to Japan, and deteriorating weather was predicted.
    Ingram was in the cockpit jump seat watching Peoples do the takeoff while the others laughed and taunted. They were comfortable with Ingram, so their language was crass, especially at ten thousand feet and on autopilot. Every few minutes the C-54 hit an air pocket and dropped a few hundred feet. The passengers in the main cabin cursed as the aircraft jiggled and bounced.
    â€œI’m here.” Major Neidemeier stood over Ingram. He’d agreed to switch to the cockpit jump seat while Ingram spent time with Fujimoto back in the main cabin. The plane shook. Neidemeier reached up and braced himself against the overhead.
    Berne said, “Better not touch that, Major. It’s high voltage.”
    â€œJeeeez!” Neidemeier jerked his hand away.
    Ingram stood. “It’s okay, Clive. Here, sit.” He checked the Bakelite tag on the spot where Neidemeier had braced. It was labeled AUX RAD 2. He looked at Berne, who shrugged.
    Neidemeier sat and swiveled his head, his eyes becoming large.
    â€œSeat belt,” barked Radcliff.
    â€œOkay, okay,” said Neidemeier. He strapped in, getting more bug-eyed as he looked about the cockpit. “Look at all these dials and levers.”
    Radcliff turned around. “You buckled