Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

with the crook of one finger. He'd always hated shooting things. Even as a boy, when his dad had given him the .22 and sent him after the birds damaging the fruit, he'd hated it.
    Not that the Japs didn't deserve every bit of whatever hellfire Daniel could deliver. They had asked for it. With a rain of bombs on an unsuspecting island, they had let themselves in for this. In the California's bent-metal screams as she sank, in Steve's blood, and Gordie's, and the fire that had taken so many other shipmates. For Red's missing leg and the gallant ships tossed like broken toys in the harbor they had asked for it. But he sometimes wished he hadn't been as good at matching bugs when they had tested the new recruits, back before he knew where that skill would place him.
    The men in the turret were relaxing, as the order to resume fire didn't come. The chief petty officer leaned against the bulkhead, his tanned, lined face slack with fatigue. Daniel's fingers itched for his pencil. He wanted to sketch that, to catch those drooping eyelids and the deep grooves from nose to mouth and the way the man's shoulders slowly sank and eased. He committed it to memory instead. He'd draw it later.
    Eventually they secured from general quarters. Daniel found George at his elbow as they headed toward the mess deck. The older man was sweat-stained and rumpled, but he still looked alert and tough as nails. The odd lassitude that had overtaken Daniel since he had taken his hands off the gun controls suddenly vanished. Anxiety clutched at him. He couldn't ask the most important thing first, but he could ask, "What's the word?"
    George grunted. "We took some more damage to the number three turret, a fire that was damned close to setting off the powder, and a near-miss that buckled the plates port side near the bow. We'll be pumping out water the whole way to Australia, but it looks like we can stay on top of it."
    "And the guys?" Jacob?
    "We lost a few. I heard fifteen counting yesterday. A bunch more in sickbay. Nothing like what the Japs lost, I'm hoping."
    "Anyone we know?" He tried to be casual.
    George just said, "Anyone we don't know? Shipmates. I'm not gonna list the names. There'll be a service in the morning."
    "Sorry."
    George smacked his arm. "That's war. Let's go get some chow while the getting's good."
    Daniel nodded, and then remembered, "You said Australia?"
    "I heard Townsville."
    "Do you know it?"
    "It's a decent port. Lots of flyboys there, 'cause of the airfields, and they think they're better'n us. But lots of girls too. And they all speak English. Well, Australian, which is even worse than that Cockney shit the London dames speak. But they're cute and you can eat the food. We could do a lot worse."
    "You figure we're going to get liberty?"
    "I'd bet on it. Repairs are going to take at least a week. I figure they'll let us loose to unwind."
    Daniel tried to hold back a grin, and then realized it was entirely appropriate, as long as no one knew what, or rather who, he was grinning about. "Can't wait. We've been at sea too damned long."
    "You can say that again." George hip-checked him out of the way to grab a tray first. "Gonna eat and sleep and rest up for it."
    Daniel tried to be subtle about looking around as he got his food and followed George to a table. The mess deck was full of sweaty, tired men. Some ate doggedly, bent over their trays. Some talked in excited voices, still a little too high and fast, hands moving in exaggerated gestures. A few stared at their food, as if the appearance of overcooked peas on a spoon was all-engrossing. Daniel searched for faces. Tom, from the next bunk over, check. Clarence, who'd been there through Basic and the California and was still with him, check. Rog and Syl, laughing together.
    And then there, between Mike and Badger, was Jacob. Unhurt, untouched. Eating slowly, a bemused look on his face. That was probably due to whatever story Badger was telling. Badger had an inexhaustible fund of them, each one dirtier than the last. From the grin on the man's face, he was closing in on a punch line.
    Jacob looked up then and found Daniel's attention on him. And for a moment, Jacob's eyes just lit up. Daniel had always thought that was just a figure of speech, something the writers of dime novels put in to sound fancy. But the way Jacob's face went from dull fatigue to just bright and shining... holy God.
    Daniel looked away quickly. That was dangerous. That could get them up to their