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( Chapter Seven: ❛ OVER-SEXED, OVER-PAID AND OVER HERE ❜ ) OCTOBER, 1943
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THE CRICKET GAME WAS HELD IN A LOCAL PARK, since the Americans were billeted in the MCG Melbourne Cricket grounds. Ginny wore one of her more summery dresses that day, since the weather was warming up and the sun was finally out. It was a baby blue with a pink floral pattern, a little bit like Jackie's going-out dress but not nearly as lavish. Though, she was told she looked prettier than usual that day, with waves in her pearly blonde hair.
Jackie had laid a picnic rug out on the field, a large square of tartan fabric that they could sit on, far enough away from the game as to not get hit unintentionally by the ball, but close enough to be able to see. Lew, or Chuckler, jogged on the spot just beside the rug, leaning over and stretching, doing all sorts of things to prepare himself. After a moment, he said, "I have confidence in us. I mean, how different is it from baseball?"
Ginny squinted up at him, "Quite, I believe."
His face fell, "Shit."
The whole ordeal had been arranged by some Marines that Lew and the others very vaguely knew after some fight in a bar. It was decided (by the Aussies, needless to mention) that they would settle it once and for all by means of a cricket match. However, the majority of the Americans hadn't even known what cricket was until they'd arrived in Australia, and knew little of the rules. Because of this, the men in the bar had to scout far and wide to find anyone willing to play on their team. Happy-go-lucky Lew Juergens, of course, was more than happy to give it a go.
Bill Smith, though, hadn't ran since track in high school. He was particularly tired that day, after a restless night's sleep on the bleachers of the MCG. He was laid on his back at Ginny's side, with his eyes closed, a cigarette poking out from his lip and waving in the air when he pinched it between his lips and then between his teeth instead. A wisp of smoke curled up from his mouth and towards the sky like a thin grey serpent rising into the air.
"When I was back at school we used to play a game called rounders," Ginny told him, unsure as to whether he was actually listening to her or just dozing off like a cat in the sun, "It was like cricket, but for girls. I once got concussed from being hit on the head when Dolores Brown hit the ball so high it went right up into the sky. From what I've heard, it sounds quite like baseball. Do you play baseball?"
"Nope," Bill responded nonchalantly, reaching up and fitting his hands behind his head as a pillow to lean on. His cornsilk eyebrows furrowed when he squinted in the sun. "I never liked playing. My pa used to tell me it was for guys with heads like rocks. Guys like Chuckler."
