Chapter One

The roof of the cold, gray, barnlike Pennsylvania Terminalin Baltimore hovered high over the scurrying travelersand the small whispering groups about Gate Three. In clustersof two, three, four and more they stood around sternfacedyouths as the moments ticked away. Here a wife andchild, there a half dozen pals shouted encouragement. In acorner an aged mother and father and a group of relativeswhispered to a sullen lad.

There were many young girls, some weeping, all fightingback tears as they stood by their husbands, their lovers, theirboy friends. The almost buzzing sound of their farewellbounced and echoed off the walls of the ancient terminal.

Danny Forrester zipped up his green and silver jacketwith the block letter F and shifted his weight nervously fromone foot to the other. Grouped about him were his father; hisyoung brother, Bud; and his best friend, Virgil; and Virgil'sgirl, Sally.

"Hey, lady, my brother is a Marine," little Bud Forrestershouted to a passer-by.

"Be quiet, Bud," Mr. Forrester demanded.

Kathleen Walker stood at Danny's side. Their hands wereclasped tightly. He felt the cold sweat of her palms as a sergeant in dress blues made his way through the throngs,walked to the gate, and began to check a roster sheet.

"I'm sorry about Mother. I'm sorry she didn't want to come."

"She'll be all right, son."

"Gee, Danny," Virgil said. "I wish I was going with you."

"No, you don't," Sally answered.

"I called up Coach Grimes. He was sort of angry youdidn't say good-by."

"Heck, Virg, he'd probably've brought the whole teamand student body down. I . . . I didn't want that. I'll write andexplain to him."

"Sure."

"You've got the sandwiches and cake I packed?'' Sallyasked.

"Right on top. Thanks, Sally."

Henry Forrester reached in his wallet and took out a tendollarbill. "Here, son."

"I've got twenty already, Dad. That's more than enough.""Well, you'd better take it anyhow. Never can tell, littleemergency might come up."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Any idea about what's cooking?" Virgil asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I've heard a million storiestoday. They say the Base is nice. We'll be in isolation fora couple weeks at San Diego. Boot camp, they call it.""Sure sounds like fun."

"You'll write us, when you can?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Hey, Danny, I want a Jap sword. Get a Jap for me,Danny, huh?"

"I don't suppose I'll see any Japs for a while, Bud. I wantyou to be a good guy and do what Dad tells you—and writeto me."

A loud cry cut through the station. A soothing arm wentaround a mother's shoulder. A long awkward period of silence followed. Danny and Kathy looked at each othersheepishly from the corners of their eyes.

"Maybe you'd like to talk to Kathy alone for a minute,"Mr. Forrester said.

Danny led her to a deserted bench, but neither sat down.She lowered her head as he spoke softly.

"You don't want to change your mind, do you, kitten? Iwould understand if you did."

"No . . . no."

"Scared, kitten?"

"A little."

"Me too."

"Kiss me, Danny."

They held each other until the public address systemrudely shocked them back to earth.

"Attention all Marine enlistees. Report to platform GateThree at once."

A mutter of relief was heard and one by one the fifty boysand their parties wended their way through the gate anddown the long stairs to the snorting, hissing string of carsbelow. Virgil picked up Danny's overnight bag and Danny,with one arm about Kathy and the other about Bud, shuffledslowly along amid the crowd.

"All right," the sergeant barked. "Fall in."

For the tenth time he droned through the list: "Tatum . . .Soffolus . . . O'Neill . . . Greenberg . . . Weber . . . Forrester. . . Burke . . . Burke, Thomas K . . . answer up."

"Here."

"All right, pay attention. Soffolus will take the roster andbe in charge of this detail. You people board the first car andstay together. There will be no defacing or drinking or boisterousness,or Military Police will be put aboard. Fall out—you have three minutes left."

They broke the shoddy formation and rushed to the crowdarched about them.Battle Cry. Copyright © by Leon Uris. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from Battle Cry by Leon Uris
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.