Johnny was on that run for several months and he must have seen a great deal of Carol. Most of the time, she just sat and listened to him while he told her about far-off places. Neither of them could have said a great deal about what they felt. He couldn’t marry her because he was a Sergeant of Marines and unable to support a wife. She must have sensed this, for she said nothing. He knew this and didn’t touch her. Military men are like that when they love. If impossibility arises, they say nothing. Not even to their friends.
And so the winter wore away and spring came. And with spring, the Nicaraguan elections. Sergeant Johnny went south to Nicaragua into the thick of that ugly, unwarranted, jungle war at the height of Sandino’s murky career.
Johnny had a friend. Another Johnny named Kimple who was also a sergeant of the Corps. The two of them had been together their whole time in the Marines — eight years before 1926. Faulkner, because of his splendid record, was ordered to the Guardia — that body of native soldiery officered by noncommissioned officers of the Marine Corps. Kimple was made Faulkner’s second lieutenant. And so Guardia Lieutenant Kimple, and Guardia Captain Faulkner started in to make things hot for Sandino. In Faulkner’s locker there are eight citations won in 1926. He didn’t know that I saw them.
Yes, the two of them burned up the jungles and fought all over the lot. Not for the glory at all. For the fun of it and because they were together and because they were Marines. Summer faded out, though it made no difference in the climate of hot Nicaragua.
