The silence that followed was so heavy it hurt , revealing a panorama of crestfallen faces, not unlike those of a high command having received news of a military defeat. It was Captain Burley who finally broke the silence.." Now the son-of-a-botch thinks he ‘s a lawyer."

"That’s right , Major Dominick’s response was almost a whisper. "I guess I should’ve said something."

"You don’t really mean--"

"I mean he has a law degree. It’s on his record."

The Major leaned back, weariness in his look . "I don’t think he had time to practice before the draft got him."

"Looks like he just won his first case , gentlemen." Lt. Greely was on his feet ." I don’t know about you guys, but I ‘m going to quarters and sack out. It’s been an enlightening experience. Looks like Hazlitt’s got us where it hurts ."

That was the cue for a shuffling of feet and moving of chairs and tables, accompanied by the low rumble of curses and complaints as the men left. I was on my way out when I heard the unmistakable voice of Captain Burley calling to me. I waited for him at the door. He was an imposing figure , tall and bulky, his large blond mustache drooping over sensual lips.

"Did that little bastard get to you , too ?"

"No, I’m not much for poker." I didn’t tell him of my gift of tobacco from Hazlitt." I just saw the light on here and wondered what was going on."

"Hazlitt’s slippery as an eel in a slime." He put his hand on my shoulder to guide me through the door before him. " Stay away from the sneaky son-of-a-bitch. He’s real criminal type. You know what I mean. I’m gonna look up that club of his when I get back to the States. Like Greely said, I’ll bet he’s got crime connections."

I said nothing . I knew Captain Burley just wanted to talk and get Hazlitt out of his system. That was his style, profane and unmilitary, which endeared him to all the non-commissioned personnel, and earned him the reputation as the "Buck Rogers" of the fly boys. His exploits in flying the hump, especially during the early, hazardous days when we were losing so many planes, had made him the stuff of legend. Like his physical image, his personality also seemed to tower over those whom he met.

"You know what Baker told me, " he said, putting his arm on my shoulder as we walked into the moon-drenched night . "He said he had it on good authority that Hazlitt puts bars of soap in his armpits to run his blood pressure up so they’ll keep him in the hospital. You ever heard of anything like that ?"

I admitted I hadn’t heard that one.

"Well, I wouldn’t put it past the little turd. Anybody who’d cheat his buddies the way he did would do anything. I figure he took me for at least a thousand, maybe more. Well , that’s water down the toilet--" He shrugged his shoulders in a futile gesture as we walked on.

" I’m making a trip to Kunming next Wednesday," he said, suddenly dropping the whole subject of Hazlitt." You want to go along?"

"I might ," I said, remembering the only time I had flown with him into China, a five hour stay at a desolate airport, where the only life I saw was a group of Chinese peasants, their goats and chickens in tow, boarding a rickety tuck to parts unknown. " If I can arrange it , I’ll let you know.". If he remembered asking me a few nights ago in his boozy state , he gave me no sign of it .

"Good." He gave me a mock salute , and was off in the direction of the officer’s quarter’s , his words trailing back over his shoulder. " We’ll fly a little different course this time."

Captain Burley was famous for taking anybody who wanted to go on one of his flights, especially since the danger of hostilities had decreased . It was characteristic of his unmilitary approach; where others might have had problems, he seemed to have no clearance difficulties with anything he wanted to do. This deference to his wishes was in keeping with his swashbuckling reputation and for the most part served him well , but in the end , may have been the ironic twist in his thread of fate . Months later when , according to rumor, the point system had entitled him to return to the States, he chose to stay on and fly the hump. He wanted , he insisted the real thing ; not some job instructing young pilots stateside, or sitting at some dead-end desk. His place was with his buddies, in the midst of whatever action was taking place . And in this he also had his way’ nobody argued with a legend.

` When the July heat was excessively oppressive and boredom was at its worst , it was decided that a July 4th celebration on a grand scale would be a morale-raising event . Enthusiasm and cooperative efforts in that direction were growing when it was discovered that a major ingredient was missing .Fireworks. Scouts were sent into Dacca and the surrounding countryside in search of the traditional explosives , but they came back empty handed. The dilemma grew depressive until the resourceful captain Burley volunteered to solve the problem, and on July 3rd he took of for Hong Kong where , he assured us , fireworks existed in abundance.In the early hours of July 4th we got the news of his death ; he had crashed before reaching Hong Kong. Today when I think of the many things the historic 4th means to me’ it also means Captain Buck Burley; especially when I remember that I had been refused permission to accompany him on that flight .

As for Warrant Officer Hazlitt, he stayed on for another week in the hospital. But one day when I went around to check on him, I was told by one of the nurses that he had been shipped out . I recall at the time a certain ominous ring to the way she used that familiar phrase , but perhaps it was only my imagination. Most of time it meant one was moved to the General Hospital in Calcutta, but my efforts to learn details were thwarted, whether by design or ignorance on her part I never knew. Almost as an afterthought, she picked up a package, easily recognizable as another tin of tobacco, and handed it to me with a laconic: "He left this for you ."

She turned and walked away before I could thank her .

Often thereafter as I mused over a pipeful of Hazlitt’s tobacco -- an excellent blend-- I wondered what had happened to him. Had he made it out on a Section Eight as some seemed to think. Did he really have a club; if so was he already back in Hollywood? I had been there before going to India, but my club-hopping had been confined to a few of the better known places such as the Palladium , where I occasionally went to hear the throaty ribaldries of Sophie Tucker. And of course I would not have known him then .

Like so many of the brief encounters of wartime , more questions than answers surround the fate of those we knew then . With Ira Hazlitt those questions were never answered for me . I never heard from him again , nor did I ever get back to Hollywood. But the fine tobacco he gave me lasted a long time.

When I went off duty that afternoon, with my last tin of tobacco in hand, I saw Mark and Fr.O’Brien standing by the barracks talking to a little Indian boy I had seen frequently around . There were always children, expecting baksheesh or some sign of attention, especially something as tangible as a Band-Aid or a piece of candy . But this boy, big eyes staring out from an oversized head , intrigued me. His frail body , clothed in a dirty loin cloth and a shirt riddled with holes, presented an almost stick-figure image. He seemed to pull back when Fr.O’Brien put his hand on his head, and waited until the priest hastened away to make his rounds. Mark gave the boy a piece of candy and , pleased with his booty. he also left.

As I approached , Mark held up a large jar. "Sister Ignatia," he said "she sent this to us. "

"What is it ?"

"Some kind of jam."

"What’s that little boy’s name ?"

"Damned if I know," Mark said." I’ve tried my best to understand what he’s saying .The best I can make out is Rum Rum . That’s what I call him ."

"He looks like a little old man."

"He smells like hell." Mark said." I don’t mean the usual dirty human smell. More like the way an animal smells. You know what I mean ?"

"I can’t say I do ."

"Well, it’s real weird," he said." Next time you’re close enough to get a whiff of him , you’ll know what I mean."

"Maybe he’s a reincarnation of the monkey god," I joked , wanting to get under one of our crude showers and wash off the dirt of the day.

Mark followed. Captain Jaffee wants us to get a room ready for some British VIP who’s checking in the hospital in the morning ."

I turned , puzzled .What’s a Britisher doing checking in with us ?"

"How the hell do I know ," Mark replied impatiently. " Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and try. Captain Jaffe says get it done, so I guess we better bloody well do it . Any more questions?"

"What’s the V.I.P.’s name ?"

"Winston Churchill."

"Oh." I smiled at him. " I thought it was somebody important ."

I picked up the fresh fatigues Rafikmia had laid out on my bunk and headed for the showers .

"He’s bringing Roosevelt with him," Mark shouted after me as I left.

I acknowledged his upmanship with a parting wave.