Harold and Maude (10 page)

“This is what we're defending, Harold,” he said. “Look around you—everything that's good and beautiful in the American way of life. People enjoying their freedom.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Call me ‘sir,' Harold. First thing you learn in the Army—an officer deserves your respect.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Ah, look at that old gazebo. I remember in the old days they'd have a military band there on Sundays, playing marches and other patriotic songs. Wait a minute. Is that some peace nut over there? My God, it is! Let's go off this way, Harold. Those crazy Commie bastards. I don't know why we tolerate 'em.”

Harold looked over at the peace petitioner.

“Parasites,” said Uncle Victor.

“Yes, sir,” said Harold, and followed him along the path.

They walked toward the reservoir. The general talked expansively, and Harold seemed to become more and more interested and involved.

“Well, let's examine the facts on it,” said Uncle Victor. “I say this country has been too harsh in its outright condemnation of war. I say you can point to many material advantages brought about by a crisis-and-conflict policy. Hell, World War Two gave us the ballpoint pen. That's common knowledge.”

“During wartime the national suicide rate goes down,” offered Harold.

“Is that a fact? Well, that fits in right along with everything I've been saying. War is not all black.”

“Yes, sir,” said Harold. “It makes you think.”

“Damn right it does. War is part of our heritage. And it's a crying shame the way it has been handled in the last few decades. I mean, let's look at it out in the open. Let's stop this pussyfootin' around. Can you tell me why the hell we've given up on the Germans? Can you? Those damn politicians in Washington have chalked them up on our side, and the wars ever since have been a national disgrace. Hell, look at history. The two best wars this country has fought were against the Jerries. Now
I
say, get the Krauts back on the other side of the fence where they belong, and let's return to the kind of enemy worth killing and the kind of war this whole country can support.”

“Wow, sir,” said Harold. “That's pretty strong stuff.”

“Well, Harold,” said Uncle Victor, breathing deeply and absently patting his empty sleeve, “I've always been a man who speaks his mind. It's hurt me. I'm not liked in Washington. I know that. But—and you ought to remember this—I do have friends in high places.”

They walked along the reservoir and sat on a small hill beneath a tree. No one was about, and the general began telling Harold some of his wartime experiences.

“They came at me from all sides. Hundreds of 'em. We kept firing. Zat-tat-tat-tat! ‘Throw the grenades,'
I shouted. ‘Mac, throw the grenades!' ‘He's dead,' Joe said, and kept right on feeding me the bullets. Zat-tattat-tat! They kept falling, but they kept coming. Bullets whizzing all around me. Zot! Joe falls back with a neat red hole in his head. I thought I was done for. But I kept firing. Zat-tat-tat-tat! Only one thought kept me going. Kill! Kill! For Joe and Mac and the rest of the guys. Kill!—a blinding flash. I wake up on a stretcher. ‘Did we hold?' I asked the medic. ‘Yes, sir,' he said, and I slipped into unconsciousness.”

“Gee! That's a great story, sir.”

“Well, you'll soon have stories like that to tell of your own.”

“You think so, sir?”

“Sure. You'll be able to tell your children. Something for them to look up to. Be proud of.”

“I hope so, sir. Golly, I never knew it could be so exciting.”

“It's the greatest excitement in the world.”

Harold sat up and mulled it over. “To pit your own life against another,” he said pensively.

“That's right.”

“To kill.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“The taste of blood in your mouth.”

“The moment of truth.”

Harold took hold of an imaginary rifle and aimed
it at an imaginary enemy. “Another man's life in your sights.”

“Yes.”

He pulled the trigger. “Zap!”

Uncle Victor laughed.

“Will they really teach me to shoot?” Harold demanded.

“Oh, sure,” said Uncle Victor. “A variety of weapons.”

“And to use the bayonet? AHHHHHH!”

“Oh, sure.”

“How about hand-to-hand combat?”

“You'll have plenty of that.”

Harold grappled with an imaginary victim and began to kill him. “To strangle someone. Choke him. Slowly. Squeeze out his life between your hands.”

Uncle Victor looked at Harold and became slightly perturbed.

“Eh?” he said.

“How about to slit his throat?”

“Well, I don't …”

“I'd like that. You could see the blood squirt out.”

“Harold. I think you're getting carried away here.”

“Sir, how about souvenirs?”

“Souvenirs?”

Harold sprang to his knees. “Of your kill. You know—ears, nose, scalp. Privates.”

“Harold!”

“What's the chances of getting one of these?” he asked, and pulled out a shrunken head. “Wow! To think maybe I could make my own.”

“Harold!” cried Uncle Victor. “That's
disgusting!
”

“It certainly is!” said Maude.

Harold and the general stopped talking and looked up. Maude stood over them, her goose-head umbrella in one hand and a large peace sign in the other.

“Who are you?” asked Uncle Victor, standing up.

“I am petitioning for peace, and I came over here—”

“Parasite!” shouted Harold, jumping up and thrusting his fist in Maude's face. “Parasite!”

“Harold, control yourself,” said Uncle Victor.

“Commie bastard!” cried Harold. “Get out of here!”

“Don't you talk to me like that, you little foulmouth degenerate,” said Maude. “Really, General, I thought you at least—”

“Traitor!” shouted Harold. “Benedict Arnold! Remember Nathan Hale, right, sir?”

“Don't you advance on me!” Maude shouted.

“We'll nail every last one of you! You're all going to end up like
this
!” And he held up the shrunken head.

“Filth! Filth!” cried Maude.

“Lady, please,” said Uncle Victor. “Harold—”

“Just like this,” said Harold, shaking the shrunken head in Maude's face.

“Give me that!” she cried, and grabbed it out of his hand. “I'm going to throw this in the sewer where it belongs.” She turned and ran off toward the reservoir.

“She took my head,” said Harold, dumbfounded.

“Stay where you are,” ordered the general.

“She took my head!” screamed Harold. He picked up Maude's fallen peace sign and ran after her. “I'll kill her!” he screamed.

“Harold, come back! Harold, that's an order.” The general followed him in hot pursuit.

Maude ran past the sign saying “Danger—No Trespassing!” and under the fence that led to the dam. Harold followed her, wielding the peace sign like a club. The general, totally unnerved, ran after them.

Scampering out along the edge of the dam, Maude stopped in the middle and held the shrunken head out over the rushing water below.

“Don't you dare!” cried Harold, catching up with her and grabbing her arm. Maude clobbered him with her umbrella, and when the general arrived she clobbered him too.

“Lady, please,” cried Uncle Victor, trying to restrain Harold with his one arm. “Give him back the head.”

“I'll kill her,” shouted Harold. “I'll kill her!”

“Keep away from me, you twisted little pervert!” screamed Maude.

The general wrenched the peace sign from Harold and threw it over the dam. They paused for a moment to see it disappear in the treacherous water below. Maude stood on the general's right, holding the shrunken head. With a quick move, Harold pulled the general's lanyard which activated his mechanical salute. The sleeve sprung out and clipped Maude under the chin, knocking her over the dam and into the churning waters. The general, horrified, watched her go under. He waited anxiously, but she did not come up.

Still with his sleeve held at salute, he looked up. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. He turned to Harold for some reason for this calamity—some motive, some explanation.

“I lost my head,” said Harold sadly, and watched the water flow rapidly downstream.

B
ACK AT HEADQUARTERS
General Ball sat at his desk. “You can get rid of the Chasen file,” he said to his adjutant. “My nephew is not going in the Army.”

“Shall I put it back in Top Secret, sir?”

“No need to, Rodgers. Send it back through regular channels and have it certified medically unfit for active duty.”

“Anything specific, sir?”

“Use your own judgment, lieutenant. But, confidentially—the boy is an idiot. A homicidal maniac. He belongs in a mental institution.”

“Yes, sir. Here's the latest body count, sir.”

“I shudder to think, Rodgers, what would happen to the Army if we allow it to become a refuge for killers.”

T
WO SKELETONS
, hung on two doors, jingled their bones and laughed uproariously. The doors burst open and Harold and Maude went scuttling by in a small cart that drew up by a sign marked “Exit.” An attendant helped them out of the cart, and they walked down the steps to the promenade.

“Well, so much for the Haunted House,” said Harold. “It wasn't very scary.”

“No,” said Maude. “It had nothing on this afternoon.”

“Oh, you weren't scared.”

“Scared? Swimming underwater with that oxygen device of yours? I was petrified.”

“Go on, you loved it.”

“Well, of course, it was a new experience.”

They both laughed. Harold bought tickets for the
Ferris wheel, and they were helped to their seat and locked in.

“Off we go!” said Maude, as they sailed above the carnival lights and up into the night sky. “Isn't this fun? I used to ride the Prater wheel all the time.”

“Too bad you lost your umbrella in the reservoir,” said Harold.

“Oh, well,” said Maude. “It served its purpose. That's all you can ask of anything—or anybody.”

“Your plan certainly served its purpose. If you could have seen my uncle's face.” Harold laughed. “The Army won't want me now.”

Maude laughed too. “Well, the Army was all right in its day,” she said. “Like the Church. Together they protected us from the bad guys on the one hand and the devil on the other. But—as everything will—the foe has changed. We have met the enemy and he is us. So we'll just have to sit down now and reason out some better solutions than defenses with weapons and dogmas.”

“Do you think we'll succeed?”

“Oh, certainly. Keep the faith! The way I see it we're now in the cocoon. The day of the caterpillar is over. The time of the butterfly is at hand.”

“Oh, we've stopped,” said Harold.

“And right at the top. What fun!”

“Look at the people down on the pier. They seem so small. Maude! Wait! What are you doing?”

“Just rocking the boat,” cried Maude, wildly swinging the seat.

Harold was very relieved when they stepped off the Ferris wheel and went into the penny arcade.

They played the pinball machines and tested their grips. But it was the hand-operated soccer game that gave them the most fun.

Maude right away got into the football spirit. She cheered her team on enthusiastically and manipulated her men to kick goal after goal.

Fifteen minutes later a crowd had gathered around her. A short Italian man played with her against a couple wearing matching Hawaiian shirts. The crowd cheered on every play and slapped each other on the back whenever a goal was scored.

Harold stole away and put a penny in a machine that stamped out letters on a metal disk. As he marked the letters and pulled the lever, he listened to the cheering and smiled.

“You sure have a way with people,” he said as they left the amusement park and walked along the pier.

“Well,” said Maude, “they're my species.”

Harold bought two candy apples, and they sat out on the end of the pier to eat them.

“Look!” said Harold, pointing. “A shooting star!”

“I saw it,” said Maude. “My, my. There's always an oddball, even in the firmament.”

Harold looked up at the stars. “They're beautiful, aren't they?”

“Yes. They're old friends. I used to watch them in Bavaria. They can be very … comforting.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for example, I used to look up and think that light traveling from a distant star would take over a million years to reach us. In a million years Nature evolved the wing of a bird. So, maybe by the time that light reaches us, mankind will have learned to deal with evil. Maybe he will have phased it out altogether, and we'll all be flying around … like angels.”

Harold smiled. “You should have been a poet.”

“Oh, no!” cried Maude. “But I should have liked to be an astronaut. A private astronaut, able to just go out and explore the unknown. Like the men who sailed with Magellan. I want to see if we really can fall off the edge of the world.”

She laughed. “What a joke it will be,” she said, making a large circle with her candy apple, “if, like them, I end up where I began.”

“Maude,” said Harold.

“Yes.”

“I have a present for you.” And he handed her the metal disk.

“Oh, Harold! How nice.” She read the inscription out loud. “‘Harold loves Maude.'”

Harold, somewhat embarrassed, turned and looked out to sea. Maude touched his arm, and he turned around.

“And Maude loves Harold,” she said softly.

He smiled, and Maude gave a happy laugh.