So Proudly We Hail! Page #10

in months,

we had a chance to wash

the Japs out of our hair.

For a few days we were even able

to get outside the hospital tunnel

for a little fresh air.

Air raid!

And then they started.

They plastered us

but good, constantly.

As they stepped up

their tempo,

things got tougher

and tougher.

The thunder of the dive

bombers was incessant.

The noise almost

split our eardrums.

The old story. Too little

food, dwindling ammunition,

too many people

and too many wounded.

Gradually, Corregidor felt

like and became a prison.

And though everything

else was giving out,

we thanked God

for the blood plasma

the Red Cross

had supplied us with.

Occasionally between bombings,

we went outside

and took our chances on a

shell rather than suffocation.

We listened hopefully

for news of home,

but the Japs jammed everything except

the commercials advertising food.

It makes a delicious salad

with whatever you have at hand,

pineapple,

strawberries,

or any of the plentiful fruits about us.

Cooled deliciously

in your icebox,

it will bring sunny

California to your home.

Shut that thing off!

What? No dive bombers?

It's not time.

They're still out to lunch.

There's no quinine left.

Well, what are we gonna do?

Nurse, what do you think

we're going to do?

They can take us off.

Why are we here anyway?

Why? Why isn't there any quinine?

Why isn't there any food?

Why aren't there any supplies?

Why are we waiting here

like rats in a cage

waiting for the man to come

and pour scalding water over us?

Why was nothing done? Why?

Take it easy, Davy.

I'll tell you why.

It's our own fault.

Our fault?

What did we do?

Because we believed

we were the world.

That the United States of

America was the whole world.

Those outlandish places:

Bataan, Corregidor, and Mindanao.

Those aren't

American names.

No, they're

just American graveyards.

Well, why don't

they get us off?

They can't get us off.

We've become what they call

"a delaying action."

That's what those 50,000 men

over there were.

They were merely

saving time.

I hope to God the people back

home aren't losing it for us.

Do you remember what the

Chaplain once told us?

It's our present.

We're giving them time.

Well, they're always

on time anyway.

Air raid!

Everybody in the tunnel.

I can't stand it any longer!

I've got to get out of here!

Tony!

Tony!

Feeling better, Tony?

Much, thanks.

I'm sorry I blew up yesterday. Guess

I had a case of the heebie-jeebies.

Don't worry about it.

Those little outbursts are

about the only cold showers

we get around here.

Maybe you could use one?

What did you think I was doing

yesterday when I shot my mouth off?

I feel better, too.

Hello, Ma.

What you got there?

My grandson.

Oh, he's cute.

He looks just like...

Yes, he does.

Particularly at that age.

That's what I have

to live for.

Janet, can I speak

to you a minute?

What are you doing down here?

We discharged you a week ago.

I thought you knew

I was your permanent patient.

What is it, darling?

I just wanted to say

goodbye for a few days.

What are you talking about?

We sort of made up

a little party,

and we're going down

around Mindanao

to see if we can find

some quinine.

You can't go.

Why not?

Your leg.

You're still too weak.

I'm no weaker

than the rest.

John, you're not well yet.

We'll all be a lot worse

if we don't get some supplies.

When do you have to go?

We leave at 5:
00 in the morning.

That's nine long hours

from now.

Ma, I want you to know I'm

going to break a regulation.

Is that something

new with you?

But I'm really going

to smash one this time.

I'm going to get married.

To him?

I'll get Chaplain Frank.

Can we get married here, Ma?

No. I don't know

about this, officially.

Better not in the tunnels.

I know, the bakery. It's still

standing, and they've a light there.

In the meantime,

I'll get dressed.

Dressed into what?

Maybe we could fix up

one of your skirts.

Just so the whole thing

isn't too confusing.

Dear God, we have

none of the things

which are usually used to

solemnize marriage in this one,

except the thing that you

prize most, sincerity of heart.

Amid all the boiling hatred,

both righteous and unrighteous,

two of your servants, Lord,

have found love

and desire to be wed

in Thine eyes.

Help me, Oh, Lord,

to consecrate this marriage.

And now, John,

wilt thou have this woman to thy

wedded wife, to have and to hold?

Wilt thou love her, honor her,

comfort her in sickness and in health?

And forsaking all others, keep

her till death do you part?

I will.

Janet, wilt thou have this man

to thy wedded husband?

To have and to hold?

I will.

I then pronounce you

man and wife.

God bless you both.

That's where you kiss, kids.

Okay, break it up.

Here's your wedding present.

It's the best I could do,

a bottle of wine.

Where did you get that?

The General. I told him

I needed to get drunk,

and he was so surprised

he gave it to me.

Some peanut butter

and bread.

It's a wonderful present, Ma.

This bit of jade.

It's some 2,000 years old.

Keep it.

For there are three wishes

that go with it,

good luck, long life

and an abundance of children.

Thank you, Chee.

Thanks for everything.

I have nothing to offer

except a bit of gum.

We'll take it.

Now, go ahead

and have your honeymoon.

Thank you.

Thank you, Chaplain.

God bless you both.

Good night.

Peanut butter.

I wonder if...

No, leave them alone.

Come with me, and I'll see

if I can dig some up for you.

Good.

I'm not going to eat anymore.

I'm going to save some.

Not me. This isn't

the kind of wedding cake

you put under your pillow

and sleep on.

The stars look

like street lights.

They are.

Haven't you ever been

to the Rainbow Room before?

That's the street below us.

I guess marrying you has changed

my perspective completely.

It's probably the wine.

I thought you were going to take me

to a dingy little French restaurant.

This is pretty classy.

Holy cats! You remember

everything I say.

I take you very seriously.

What is it, darling?

Did I ever tell you

about my place in the country?

No.

You know, I don't know

anything about you really.

I don't even know

if you have a middle name.

I have. It's Matathias.

Why?

An uncle. He left me this little

farm I was telling you about.

It's quite worth it.

Is it?

Yes, and you'd love it.

The time will come when you and

I will go out on a summer evening

when the grass is fresh

and the clouds white,

as if they'd just been washed.

The earth's warm and still,

and time passes quietly.

Everything's simple.

Just you and me and the kids.

Sons?

Daughters.

They're more decorative.

Let's get out of here

and go home.

Home!

I remember

a poet somewhere.

He said, "Home

is the place where

"when you have to go there,

they have to take you in."

You want to know something?

What?

I'm not afraid any longer.

Darling.

Darling, it's time to get up.

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