“It was nearly eleven when he caught a side street he knew through Anaheim, sneaked around the convoy and back onto 101, and yanked the throttle, still hoping to make Rudy’s in time to catch the girl’s last set. There were big guns blasting in the dark hills of Camp Pendleton, a trio of ships, two destroyers and a carrier, heading south about a mile off the coast at Cardiff-by-the-Sea. Tanks prowled the sea cliffs of Camp Callan, north of La Jolla, and the rattle and pop of machine gun and r...ifle fire carried toward him on an onshore breeze. The palms along Harbor Drive rustled and swayed. The flying silver fish fluttered and bounced like party balloons. Hickey turned up Broadway. Saturday night, 12:35, around the arcades, tattoo parlors, Greyhound depot, and YMCA, soldiers and marines lounged and strolled beside sailors from England, Russia, Brazil. A visitor from an earlier century might’ve thought every enlisted man in creation had showed up tonight on lower Broadway.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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