From Here to Eternity (39 page)

up. "None, I guess." But he knew he did not believe that. It was in his voice. "No," Sam Slater said. "Jake's wrong. There is a great deal of difference. They never broke Dillinger. You might as well be honest, Jake, and give him his due." Jake Delbert's face thickened redly. "You cant understand that," Sam Slater said deliberately. "But I can understand him. And I think Dynamite here can." Jake sat down in his chair and raised his drink up to his reddened face and sipped it, and Sam Slater stared back at him unmoved. "But the important thing is they did kill him, like they always kill them. The only thing wrong with Dillinger was he was an individualist, and you cant understand that, Jake. But thats why they had to kill him. Crime never pays, see?" he grinned. Holmes felt vastly relieved, but then as Slater spoke he had a vivid mental picture, suddenly, of how a little difference of opinion in thought, just like this one, say between a private and a noncom, could inextricably lead a man to the Stockade, and from there - unless the opinion in him changed, unless they broke him - lead him on step by irrevocable step to where he sat in a Chevrolet sedan on a sideroad at night holding a snub nosed .38 in an angry frightened hand and waited for the shots to pour out of the darkness into him at any moment, all this occurring in a peaceful nation not at war. It was an overpoweringly weird idea that made him shiver. He just managed to catch himself from thinking that it might even have been himself and then remembered what Slater had said about some boys could not shoot birds. He felt a curiously unreal quality about everything around him. The power of thought, he told himself, all from such an innocent beginning. "Captain," Jake said to him chokingly, "I'm positively instructing you to give this man Prewitt the goddam book, if he doesnt come around before its too late for him to train for Smokers." "I've meant to do that all along, Sir," Holmes said, "except that perhaps I've thought it might not be necessary." He felt a little sorry for'the poor old bugger. "It'll be necessary," Jake said brutally. "You can take my word for that. And that is a direct order, Captain." He sat back in his chair. Holmes, however, did not feel the least bit anxious. His majority in Regiment that he had had his eye on was nothing compared to a job on the Brigade staff perhaps. And even if the job did not pan out, Delbert could do nothing to him as long as Sam Slater kept an eye on him. "The important thing," Sam Slater said, moving in like a fencing master who takes advantage of a pause in his pupils' bout to give a little more instruction, "the important thing is to remember the logic behind the thing. You wouldnt let a single cantankerous mule hold up the whole pack train from carrying supplies up the Waianae Range, would you? If you couldnt get him to move, you'd push him off, wouldnt you?" "No," Holmes said. "Yes." "Thats all it amounts to." "That is it, isnt it?" Holmes asked nervously. "You have to think of the majority and the end in view, dont you? You have to be cruel, perhaps, for the good of the whole? That is it, isnt it?" "Thats it exactly," Sam Slater said, with a curiously feminine satisfaction. "Anyone who governs must be cruel." "Yes," Holmes said, feeling suddenly for no reason like he had been seduced, the way a woman must feel. "You're learning swiftly," Sam Slater said to him. After that Jake did not try to change the subject any more. Sam Slater went right back into his theory, talking almost hurriedly now. The two of them were still talking it when the two Majors from Regiment came in and were duly startled by the presence of a general officer and slunk around to get a reinforcing drink and, finding they were still ignored, slunk off to drink it. The two of them were still talking when S/Sgt Jefferson came back with the women. And they went on talking, Holmes listening intently because he knew now he was forced by Prewitt into a position where he could no longer evade this thing and so must go on or else go back, Sam Slater elaborating the comforting creed that had evolved from being in a similar position once, his eyes lighting up a little now as he talked. The two hefty specimens who had attached themselves to their laps drank and listened puzzledly. Jake and the two Majors had already given it up and adjourned to the back rooms to take up the business they had come here for. But Holmes had almost forgotten that. The talk, for Holmes, was momentarily opening up whole series of new vistas. Things he had not even guessed at before now. And he strained hard concentrating, catching only glimpses before the cloud bank rolled back covering them up, but always opening new ones beyond that he thought he could maybe see completely. "Reason," Sam Slater said, "is the greatest discovery ever made by man. Yet it is the most disregarded and least used. No wonder reasonable, sensitive men become bitter and disillusioned." "I've always seen it," Holmes said excitedly. "All my life I've seen it. Always at a distance." "Its all based on apprehension," Sam Slater smiled. "Apprehension is the key. After you learn to judge the degree of apprehension that is there in each man, you can predict infallibly how far you can trust him, how far you can make him go. The next step, of course, is to induce the apprehension artificially. Its already there, all you got to do is call it forth. The greater the apprehension, the greater the control." "Whats appre-hension, kiddo?" the Japanese one on Sam Slater's chair arm said. "Fear," Sam Slater grinned. "Oh," she said, and frowned puzzledly, over at the other one. "Lissen," the Chinese one on Holmes's knee said. "What wrong with you guys, any-ways?" "Not a thing," Sam Slater said. "You no like us, maybe no?" the Japanese one said. "Why of course," Sam Slater said. "You're lovely ladies." "You aint mad at me? are you?" the Chinese one said to Holmes. "Why should I be mad at you?" "I no no. Maybe I do something you not like?" "Come on, Iris," the Japanese one said. "To hell with them. We go find that white-haired old fatty. He with Beulah. Liven it up someways maybe." Iris got up. "I not do something hurt your feelings?" she coaxed at Holmes. "Hell, no," Holmes said. "You see?" Sam Slater grinned, when they had gone. "You see what I mean by apprehension?" Holmes laughed. "You know," Sam Slater said. "I've tried to explain this to old Jake a hundred times. I've been explaining it to him ever since I hit this Rock. Jake has a great deal of ability, if he would only learn how to use it." "He's pretty old," Holmes said cautiously. "Too old," Sam Slater said. "If I've ever seen a man who's lost and groping in the dark its old Jake Delbert. And you'd think that if anybody had the background and the training to see the trend of our time, Jake Delbert would be one. But no, he's still afraid. Afraid, and so much of a moralist that he would rather spend his life believing the sentimental memos he writes his troops, instead of trying to help humanity. And relieving himself (as with a bowel movement when the moral guts become too full) by throwing these stags. "Not that I dislike them, mind you. I think they're fine and I enjoy them. In their place. But a man cannot make them his life work. Not without going rotten. A man must have something bigger than himself to believe in." "Thats it," Holmes said excitedly. "Something bigger than himself. And where in this world today can he find it?" "Nowhere," Sam Slater said. "Except in reason. You know, you're pretty old for a Captain, Dynamite, but you would still be young for a Major. At your age I was only a Major myself, see? And I hadnt even begun to learn the new logic. If a smart man had not picked me out as a protege I'd still be a Major, and a Jake Delbert, today." "The thing with you, though," Holmes pointed out. "You were willing to listen to reason, when it was shown you." "Exactly," Sam Slater said. "And we have great need of proteges who can learn that lesson in our profession, today. And we're going to need them a lot worse, a little later on. There is absolutely no limit to the possibilities open to them." "I dont care about the rank," Holmes said. He had, he knew, said that before. But this time it was true, this time he really meant it. "All I care about," he said, "is to find a truly firm ground, a foundation a thinking man can stand on, a sound logic that will not let you down. Give me that and the rank can go to hell." "Thats exactly the way I felt myself," Sam Slater said. He smiled thinly. "You know, I can use a man like you. God knows I've got enough stupid dolts on my staff. I need at least one good man. How would you like to transfer to Brigade and work for me?" "If you really think I could really do it," Holmes said modestly. He was thinking what would Karen say to this? Ha, if she had her way he would never have gone to any of these stags, at all. And then where would he be? He could just see Jake Delbert's face! "Do it, hell," Sam Slater said. "Listen, if you want it its yours, see? I'll look into it for you tomorrow. "You know," he said, "actually the thing with this man Prewitt is important only insofar as it affects you personally. Not for the boxing squad, not even for your prestige. In reality its only a springboard for testing and developing your character." "I never thought of it that way before." "I dont think it would be good for you to transfer out until after you handle that thing, just for your own good, see? Then after you handled that and transferred, you could drop the whole damned boxing squad altogether. We'll have better uses for your energy." "Yes, I could do that," Holmes said, wondering if he wanted to quit coaching. "Well," Sam Slater grinned, getting up. "I need another drink and I think we've talked damn near enough, dont you? We're wasting valuable time, hey? I'm going to find those goddamned women." He stepped over to the syphon bottle and was very suddenly no longer the philosopher, it was as if part of his mind had been turned off like a spigot. Capt Holmes was startled, then almost frightened. Because he could not forget it all so easily. He had seen a picture of a new power that would make a brand new world, a world with real meaning based on logic, not just the meaning of the moralists. This was a meaning that would work out in practice, based on a realistic power. A power of great kindness with potentialities to do great good, to raise humanity to new heights despite humanity's own muhshness and inertia. A power that was tragic in its kindness because it would always be misunderstood by the masses who wanted only to fornicate and fill their bellies. A power that only history would vindicate, because the lives of great men and great ideas were always tragic. It had made his belly muscles tighten spasmodically with a sheer desire to just plain yell that he had not felt since he was a boy. How could Slater just shut it off like a faucet? Then he realized suddenly that he was doubting, here he had just learned it and already he was doubting, and he was frightened worse. Was logic still logic if you could doubt it? This is old stuff to Slater, he told himself, he's used to it, of course he can turn it off. Its just new to you, thats all. And you've still g6t that old habit of doubting. Thats all. He wondered if Sam Slater had ever doubted any, when he first learned it? Of course he had, he told himself. But somehow he doubted that. What if Slater had never doubted it? what then? He thought of asking Slater if he ever doubted and his heart suddenly skipped warningly with more than fright, with fear, at the obvious giveaway of his disbelief such a question would confess. He was not doubting the logic, he realized suddenly, what he was doubting was himself. He was doubting his ability to stop doubting. Perhaps Slater had made a mistake in him? But if Slater was wrong, then Slater's logic was fallible, wasnt it? Capt Holmes felt the old yawning bottomless feeling coming back on him, felt the earth once again refuse his feet. What if his wife had not refused to cook his dinner for him, had not gone with her rich civilian? What if Jake Delbert had warned him beforehand that there would be a General here tonight and given him time beforehand to get apprehensive? What if Sam Slater had not had the needle out for Jake? Capt Holmes saw quite clearly very suddenly that he would have been a different man, and that things would have happened very differently, and when Sam Slater handed him his fresh drink his hand was trembling. "Come on," Sam Slater grinned. "They're all in the next room back here." "Yeah. Sure," said Capt Holmes, and followed him, hoping only that he had not seen. He wondered if Slater would remember this tomorrow? And he wondered if this world-shaking conversation was in reality only a Holmes-&-Slater-shaking conversation? And he wondered why it was the earth would not ever stand still, would not let you set your feet upon it? He looked at the people in the room, at the Colonel sprawling drinking on the bed, at the woman drinking with him, at the Majors, at S/Sgt Jefferson handing around another tray of drinks, at Sam Slater grinningly picking out a woman, at the woman he had picked out himself. He did not know them, any of them, and he felt like a man looking out of the window of a skyscraper down the diminishing receding length of wall to where the beautifully miniature cars hum and crawl like beetles in the street, and he had to pull his head back in. Or jump. Not that, Holmes. You've been on that road, that road leads nowhere, thats the road that brought you here. The thing is, to believe. You must believe. You must have faith. Thats the answer. The only answer. So he looked at Sam Slater and he believed. He looked at the frolicking Sam Slater from Sheboygan, like the woman looks frightenedly but still hopefully at the man beside her whom she has let seduce her, whom she has given it to, and who has turned over and begun to snore. He knew there must be some logic in all of it someplace. It couldnt all be just so haphazard. Tomorrow he would buy that new Mixmaster at the PX and have it sitting in the kitchen when she came home. When she walked in the first thing she'd see would be that. Then she'd know. He stood up swaying only slightly and escorted the hefty Chinese girl back into the back.

CHAPTER 24

THE MAN whose salvation everybody seemed to be concerned about was not worried at all himself, did not even for the moment realize he was a sinner, as he climbed the stairway to the New Congress Hotel. Prew had that old on-pass feeling there again, telling him life was postponed until tomorrow morning, that he could think about being a sinner again tomorrow, but that right now he had better not let anything spoil this that was coming. Maybe he could not have the bugling. All right then, he could not have it. But he could have this and this would help to fill the hole and he had better be very careful to hang onto it because he might need it bad someday soon. Right now he much preferred to think about Lorene. There was a name for you. Lorene. That was no whore's name, that was a really truly woman's name, Lorene. It had a special private sound all its own for him, when he said it over, as if no other woman had ever had that name before. Hell, he could transfer out of this jockstrap company, what was to stop him? Get in a real soldiering outfit again and really work hard again. Get a sergeant's rating back again because a rating would mean something again now. Then he remembered he could not get a transfer out of this outfit. All right, so he couldnt get a transfer. So what? What did that mean? Not a goddam. All this will have blown over in a year from now. She plans to go on working for another year anyway, dont she? By then you will be due to ship back home, back to the States, in a year from now, by this time next year, in 1942. He knocked on the steel door happily loudly, seeing it all in his mind suddenly, how it would be then, some sturdy little permanent post that drowsed along from day to day, like Jefferson Barracks or Fort Riley, with solid brick barracks and new-cut grass and well kept walks under the long afternoon shadows of big old oak trees that had been standing in the same place since before George Armstrong Custer had his hair cut by the Sioux, that would be the kind of place to re-enlist for, where the NCO quarters were brick too and not this jerry-built ship lath they have here, and where you can take her right into a community and a little society that the married noncoms made and maintained for themselves alone. Didnt all the old timers like Pete Karelsen always say whores made the best wives? Whores knew how to appreciate the little things, didnt they say, after they've been down and out. Lots of old timers married whores. Look at Baldy Dhom, his wife was a whore in Manila. No, lets not look at Dhom, his wife is a gook, she dont count, thats you if you had married Violet. But you dont want to marry Violet, you want to marry Lorene. And if comfort and security is what she wants, what better place is there to find it than in some little out of the way permanent post that has been the same for sixty-nine years, and will be the same for sixty more? Why, hell. She could marry him now, today, and still go on working for a year, she planned to do that anyway, what did he care? Respectability had done him a lot of goddam good in his time, hadnt it? Respectability and fifteen cents will get you a beer. Respectability and its matronly advocates who were trying to hide their own youth when they too had been alive, because being alive was always a little obscene, you always made people uncomfortable to be with you when you were alive. Well, up yours, ladies, thats all. "Why, Prew!" Mrs Kipfer gracefully admitted him. "I certainly didnt expect to see you again so soon. This is a surprise." "Hows business?" he grinned as the thick sawdusty circus-day atmosphere broke over him in waves. Mrs Kipfer was looking slightly harassed. Not that it had wilted her corsage, just that the International Sterling lady had been candid-cameraed during a receiving line, or been caught presiding over a difficult dinner for some drunken guest her husband had brought home. "Isnt it awful though?" she said. With both waiting rooms full, men moving laughing up and down the hall, the two jukeboxes having a perpetual battle of music, sweating girls slamming doors, spike heels jarring the floor, it looked like a defense plant assembly line in full swing. There was a strong smell of mingled perfumes in the tobacco cloud and a male voice was half drunkenly competing with the jukebox in the second waiting room and from far down the hall a harried voice yelled, "Towels!" "One might easily," Mrs Kipfer said wearily, "mistake us for the Republican convention in Philadelphia, mightnt they?" "Or even the American Legion National Convention in Detroit," Prew said. "Oh, no, not that!" "Towels!" Mrs Kipfer winced. "Petunia. Josette needs towels. In number seven." "Hokay." The great black roll of flowing fat moved off indifferently. Indifferent even to the wisp of cap and tiny apron she had been afflicted with. "And see if anyone else needs any." Mrs Kipfer brushed at her cheek distractedly. "And hurry! Petunia. Her name really is Petunia. Isnt it awful? Just like the movies. But I dont know what I'd do without her though. Minerva is such a goldbrick. She's sick today. She's always sick on Payday. I cant do a thing with her at all." She sucked a breath. "That Minerva! I only have just the two, you know. The Service has at least four maids. But of course they're the biggest place in town." "Wheres Lorene?" Prew said. Mrs Kipfer put her hand lightly on his arm and beamed at him sideways knowingly. "Why, Prew! Is that why you came down specially on Payday? What did you do, did you go and borrow money? Just to come down here today and see Lorene?" "Why would I do that?" Prew said, stiffly. He could feel both his upper lip and his neck get stiff simultaneously. "As a matter of fact," he said stiffly, "I won a little money today and decided to come to town before I lost it back is all." "Well, I think thats very wise of you." Mrs Kipfer was smiling at him sideways with her head cocked on one side. "How much did you win, dear?" Prew felt a hollow fear cut down sharply through his irritation, splitting it into halves that fell away leaving a complete blankness in his mind, and he reached for his wallet quickly as a man will who is used to having to calculate his funds. It was still there. He breathed again. "Oh," he said. "About a hundred." "Well. Thats quite good, isnt it?" "Only fair," he said. He was remembering he had already spent one dollar of the twenty for two drinks to help him drop the trapdoor in his mind (there are times when it is imperative to drop the trapdoor in the mind, but the hinges have a tendency to stick so often) and that left him nineteen. Take a buck out for cab fare both ways (be could not risk hitching back, not this time) and that left eighteen. Fifteen for all night and three for a quickie now, and no bottle at all. It was running him too close for comfort. Mrs Kipfer was still smiling at him sideways. "You know, I vastly admire your taste, my dear. But there is always such a heavy call for Lorene on Payday, and there are two or three other girls available in the waiting room." "Listen," he said, wanting now to laugh at her, "I aint in no hurry. Just tell me where to find her." Mrs Kipfer, smiling, shrugged. "Very well. She's in number nine. Straight down the hall. The best way is to wait and catch her in the hall. Excuse me theres the door." He grinned after her, still wanting to laugh at how she didnt know near what she thought she knew, and turned away down the hall. "I'm sorry, boys," Mrs Kipfer was saying through the slot. "We're just completely filled - "There just isn't a bit of room - "I'm just awfully sorry - "Well," she said. "If thats the way you feel, you just go right ahead. I'm sorry. "Oh, Prew-ew," she called. "Yes?" "Drunk as lords," she whispered, coming back. "I wanted to ask you how Sergeant Warden was?" "Who?" "Milt Warden. He's still with the company, isnt he?" "Yes," he said. "Yes, he is." "He hasnt been in for such a long time now I thought perhaps he had been transferred back to the Mainland. Will you remember me to him?" "Yes. Well," he said. "Yes, I'll do that." He would do just that, walk up to The Warden after Reveille and tell him exactly that. "You know," Mrs Kipfer said, "you boys are lucky to have a man like that for your first sergeant." "You think so?" Prew said. "I think so, too. Oh, in fact, we all think that." Well, well, he thought, well, well. But The Warden! Well, well. Will wonders never cease? The door of number nine was open and a Marine tech sergeant with the bar under his chevrons instead of the rocker was coming out tying his tie. It was remarkable how every detail of him seemed so very clear and personal to Prew. Prew watched him absorbedly as he went off up the hall. Lorene came out after him, moving at a swift walk that jarred the spike heels down staccato-ly and he saw her suddenly, heart-jumpingly, as if she had been photographed life size in mid-stride and stuck there and then walked right out of the print into the hall, the unzippered dress held together with one hand that also clutched one white poker chip, a brimming bottle of dark liquid in the other that she swung slightly to keep from spilling the way a waitress swings a cup of coffee. She was moving fast, and she swung her shoulders sideways to pass him in the narrowness of the crowded hall. "Hey," he said. "Lorene." "Hello, dear," she said. "Hey! Wait a minute, will you?" "I've got to hurry, dear, theres three or four ahead of you." Then she saw him. She stopped. "Oh, its you. Hello. How are you?" She glanced down the hall. "How am I?" Was that all she had to say? He hunted desperately for an eternity through a mind that was suddenly completely blank. "I'm fine," he said lamely. "How are you?" "Well thats nice," Lorene said, glancing down the hall. "Listen, dear, I can take care of you in -" she looked at her watch" - say half an hour? Thats the best I can do, honey." "Yeah?" Prew said, feeling his throat close up as if he had swallowed alum. "Say," he said. He had to work hard to get it said. "Say, do you remember me?" "Of course I remember you, silly," she said, leaning back and looking down the hall. "Did you think I could forget you? Listen, I just cant talk now, dear. You could come back in an hour, why dont you try that?" "Ah, forget it. To hell with it." He stepped back, still blankly. "I guess that wouldnt have worked anyway," Lorene said. "There'll probably be more than four waiting by then anyway." "Yeah. Mrs Kipfer told me you was popular. Just forget it, I dont want to put you out any." "I'll tell you what," she said. She looked down the hall. "I dont see any of them around. Maybe I can slip you in ahead, how would that be?" "Dont do me no goddam favors." Lorene looked at him then, her eyes coming alive with an anxiety, alive for the first time, as if she was just now seeing something other than a regular customer. "Now dont be like that. What did you expect?" "I dont know." "You picked a bad time to come is all. I work here, you know. After all." "Yeah?" he said. "I'm the guy that was here three days ago and stayed all night with you and promised you faithfully I'd be back tonight. To stay all night with you. Remember? I'm the guy that laid in bed with you and talked for about three hours." "Of course I remember." "Hell, you dont even remember my name." "Of course I do. You're Prew. We talked about why I got into this racket. There. You see? I do remember." "Yeh," he said. "Listen, you go on in number nine and wait and I'll be back in just a minute. You can get undressed while you're waiting." "No thanks. I had rather wait till later, if you dont mind. I never did much go for mass production, somehow." She had started away again, for the third time, but now she came back and looked at him squarely. But her eyes kept slipping away, off his face. "That wont work either, Prew," she said softly. "I'm already dated up for all night tonight." "What!" His mouth felt very dry, he noticed, and he worked his lips to moisten it. "You dint tell me that the other night. You told me... What is this, the run-around?" "I didnt know it then," Lorene explained, with great patience. "This is Payday. Remember? I can pick up more credits ahead -" she shook the white chip at him " - on this one day than in the whole last three weeks of the month together. Theres a bunch of the big brass coming down from Shafter for a party and they've engaged the whole place almost. They called Mrs Kipfer up this morning and they asked for me special." "But you'd already promised me," he protested, "goddam it. Why dint you tell her that?" What're you doing, begging now? he told himself. Dont you know when you're not wanted? You've lost damn near everything else now, do you have to lose that too? "Listen," Lorene said exasperatedly, "cant you understand? When the brass comes around, Mrs Kipfer closes the whole place up for them. How do you think it would look for the EM to see them here?" Yes, he thought, that bitch, that lousy bitch, she knew it all along. "I dont give a good goddam how it 'would look.' Not a single good goddam." A big GI in civilians and fat enough to be a first cook pushed through between them elbowing by, and Prew watched him hopefully. "Watch what the hell you're doin, Mack. You son of a bitch," he said, but the big guy did not even turn around. Damn, he thought, cant even insult somebody, oh damn. "You couldnt have even gotten in," Lorene was saying, "even if I did turn the job down. I just would have lost the commission, thats all, and for nothing. When they come down from Shafter they pay big money. They scatter it around like leaves of lettuce. What is fifteen bucks to them? The girls make more off of one of those nights than they do in a whole ordinary week. I'm sorry, Prew, but what else could I do?" "You're sorry? How the hell you think I feel? She's sorry," he said. "She's very sorry. I only been counting on this like a goddam kid counts on Christmas." Why dont you shut up, Prewitt? Aint you got any pride left at all? "I am sorry. But you havent got any claims on me, mister. You're not my husband, you know." "Yeh I know. I sure as hell aint, am I? Jesus Christ, Lorene," he said. "Listen, every minute we talk here is costing me four bits ..." "And thats a lot of money, aint it?" "... and theres nothing I can do about the other. Do you want me to slip you in ahead, or don't you? I'm going out of my way to do that as it is." Thats right, he thought. Women were so practical. "Well," she said, "what do you say?" He looked at her, at the very wide mouth across the thin child's face that was compressed into a harried impatience, now, wanting to tell her what to do with it, to take it all of it and stick it, and walk out of this ratrace. Instead, he heard himself saying, "Okay," and hated himself for saying it. "All right then," Lorene said. "In number nine. And get undressed. I'll be back soon as I take care of