Ice Brothers Read Free Page A

took Paul only about twenty minutes to get to a telephone booth. He was not surprised to find that he got a busy signal when he called the Coast Guard office, and settled down to a routine of repeating the call about every two minutes. He was surprised when his fourth call got through. Figuring that he would get nowhere if he asked to speak to the busy recruiting officer, he told the harried girl who answered the telephone that he wanted to speak to the district Coast Guard officer. After a series of buzzes, a weary male voice said, “Lt. Christiansen speaking …”
    â€œAre you the district Coast Guard officer?”
    â€œI’m one of his assistants. Who is this?”
    â€œMy name is Paul Schuman. I’m the master of a charter boat and I’ve got three and a half years of college, two in the Navy ROTC. Can I get a commission in the Coast Guard?”
    â€œYou should be talking to the recruiting officer.”
    â€œI know, but nobody can get through to him. I just thought you could tell me if I have a chance, and maybe you can mail me some forms or something.”
    Lt. Christiansen laughed. “You sure know how to expedite,” he said. “I bet you’d make a good supply officer.”
    â€œI want to go to sea. I’m good with small ships.”
    â€œYou are, are you? Give me your name and address. I’ll send you the forms.”
    â€œPaul Schuman, Two-oh-nine Fieldstone Road, Wellesley, Massachusetts.”
    â€œWell, you’re lucky,” Christiansen said. “At least you live around here. We’ve got people from all over sleeping in men’s rooms and railroad stations.”
    â€œI guess that must be quite a problem.”
    â€œYou said it, boy. I got my own wife and kid in a hotel that costs more in a week than I make in a month.”
    An idea hit Paul then. He didn’t know whether it sprang from the milk of human kindness, from the practiced opportunism of his older brother, or from a lesson he had learned in some odd, reverse way from his father. Instead of simply sympathizing with Christiansen, he said, “If you want an apartment, I can find one for you out in Wellesley.”
    â€œHow are you going to do that?”
    â€œLike you said, I’m an expediter.”
    Christiansen’s voice suddenly turned sharp. “Look, I can’t do anything for you because of this except send you some forms. But if you can find me an apartment near this crazy city, I’d sure appreciate it.”
    â€œIt will only take me a few minutes,” Paul said. “Do you have a telephone number it won’t take me half the day to reach?”
    In a clipped voice Christiansen gave him a number and abruptly hung up, perhaps in confusion. Putting another nickel in the telephone, Paul called Lucy Kettel, his mother-in-law.
    â€œMother,” he said, using the appellation she wanted, though it never seemed natural to him, “I just met a young Coast Guard officer who can’t find an apartment around here for his wife and child. You must know plenty of people with big houses.…”
    â€œWell, I don’t know anybody who wants to rent …”
    â€œThere’s a war on. Isn’t it our patriotic duty to help servicemen?”
    â€œI know, but I don’t know anyone who wants to take a stranger into her home.”
    â€œLet’s face it, it would do me some good if we can do this guy a favor,” Paul continued. “He’s an assistant to the district Coast Guard officer and I’m trying to get a commission. As an officer I’ll get maybe five times the pay I’d get if I enlisted.”
    There was a pause before she said, “The Hendersons have an apartment over their garage. It’s been empty since their chauffeur quit. They’re not planning on hiring another.”
    â€œPlease call them right away,” Paul said. “I’ll call you back in five minutes.”
    â€œHow