“Not when there’s a war going on, anyway,” March said. “We’re in the Pacific now, Stan. How does it feel?”
“Just like the Atlantic,” Stan said.
“Not to me,” March mused. “This is the ocean we’re going to do our fighting in. This is the ocean where I’ve already done a fair amount of battling Japs. But this time, I think I’m going to do a lot better.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
UNDER WAY AGAIN
In San Francisco, Stan and March had two days for a little of the sightseeing they had looked forward to, but they both spent most of their time at other tasks. March passed several hours at a telephone stand trying to get through a call home.
When it finally went through he talked for five minutes with his mother and gave her his San Francisco address. She sounded cheerful and not at all worried, and asked him if he might see Scoot Bailey.
“Scoot’s address is San Francisco, too,” she said.
“I know,” March laughed, “and the address of quite a few thousands of other sailors and soldiers. I think he must have got out of Frisco before this, unless he was held up here for lack of transportation. I might as well try to find out, though.”