Paper Doll Read Online Free PDF Page A

though that would save some part of him from the wet, and touched his mouth tenderly with the tips of his fingers. He grumbled once that he got into trouble every time he associated with them, but otherwise the three of them remained silent, with the rain a steady rushing sound around them, and the chilled water sweeping down Bryant’s back under his rain gear like a sluice.
    Ground school was back on the next morning. The weather was awful and there’d be no flying for the third day in a row. No one was complaining.
    Bryant had arrived early, with Willis Eddy and Bean. Aircrew filled the seats in the briefing hut without excess enthusiasm. There was always the vague and unspoken hope that at some point they’d pick up something useful. Those attending expected little, did not sit quietly or refrain from cracking wise, as Snowberry called it, and remained stubbornly scattered throughout the room whatever the size of the crowd. They chewed gum and tested postures which might seem at once insolent and military. They yawned languidly. Someone nearby faintly tapped out what sounded like Gene Krupa. Bryant noticed Sam Hirsch alone a few seats ahead.
    â€œWhat do you know about Hirsch?” he asked Willis Eddy. He hadn’t seen much of Hirsch, but he figured Eddy and Hirsch, bombardier and navigator, crammed together in the nose of the plane, might have had more contact. Eddy’s position was right up in front in the Plexiglas nose, over the bombsight, and Hirsch was right behind his seat, at the navigator’s table.
    Eddy shrugged, uninterested. He looked over his shoulder as if hoping someone more intriguing might show. “Not much,” he finally said. “Doesn’t say much. From Chicago, I think.”
    â€œWho’s he friends with?”
    â€œWho knows?” Eddy was ready for a change of topic. “I don’t know much about Jewish guys. I guess, you know, they keep to themselves, we keep to ourselves.”
    â€œWhat ‘themselves’?” Bryant asked. “He’s one guy.”
    â€œLook, whaddaya want from me?” Eddy said. “I don’t know anything about him.”
    â€œHe’s kinda quiet,” Bean offered. “He seems like an okay guy to me.”
    The three of them shifted for a better look and pondered the back of his head.
    â€œLet’s go sit with him,” Bryant said. He hoped it didn’t sound too virtuous.
    Eddy rolled his eyes.
    Bryant and Bean moved up a few rows. Hirsch acknowledged them and returned his attention to the day’s instructor, who was pinning up some charts. They involved black silhouettes of aircraft from various angles, with large single letters beneath them.
    â€œHow you doin’,” Bryant said.
    Hirsch nodded. “How you doin’.” He nodded at Bean.
    The instructor introduced himself to guffaws as Lieutenant Mipson. He called for general quiet. Someone in the back sang the first bars of “My Old Kentucky Home.”
    â€œI don’t see much of you around,” Bryant said.
    â€œI don’t see much of anyone around,” Hirsch said.
    Lieutenant Mipson sat, apparently relying on his dignity to provoke a general hush.
    â€œWell, you should come along when we do things,” Bryant said. “They’re a pretty good bunch of guys.”
    Hirsch looked at him, and nodded.
    A staff sergeant helped pull the screen down in front. It slid back up, and there was scattered laughter and applause.
    â€œI’ve never known any Jewish guys,” Bryant remarked, and wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “I grew up in Rhode Island, and I didn’t meet any.”
    Hirsch didn’t respond.
    â€œI hear there’s a big one coming up, maybe, when the weather clears,” Bryant said. “Maybe even Berlin.” When the conversation flagged, rumors were a help. No one knew anything.
    â€œI’m a Jew,” Hirsch said. “We don’t fight.