From Here to Eternity (46 page)

that accompanies any release from drill. Both conferences were adjourned practically simultaneously and broke up into excited discussions of the prospects. Friday Clark, his long Wop nose a waxy yellow, was scared to death. When the conference was over, he got up and moved down the swaying jouncing truck, holding to the ribs above his head, and squeezed in beside Prewitt. "Jees, Prew. I'm scared. Why they want to call me for? I never been out with one. In my whole life." "Neither has none of the rest of us," Bull Nair drawled. It drew a general laugh. "In your whole life?" Readall Treadwell said. "Oh," Nair drawled. "You mean in my whole life." It got another laugh. "Christ no," Dusty Rhodes said. "You shewn me a queer, I wunt even know one of em things from a woman." "Thats no lie," somebody said. "Yeah, dont forget to tell the cop that, Scholar," somebody else said "I dint mean it like that," The Scholar protested. "What I meant is you show me a queer, I'd probly gap at him like this." He bugged his eyes and gaped his mouth until it looked like the rictal cavern of a hungry young bird. "Hey, Nair," he said, liking the idea. "I'm gapping at you, Nair." "I'm gappin at you," Nair drawled, and gaped back. The Scholar laughed uproariously, and they started gaping at each other regularly. "Look at Knapp," Nair drawled, and pointed to the long thin unruffled form of the Corporal sprawled out on the bouncing seat. "He looks worried, dont he? Lets gap old Knapp." "Okay," Rhodes said. "Probly do him good." They gaped at him in unison. "We're gappin you, Knapp." They laughed uproariously, looking at each other slyly with a country-man's secret humor, as if they had discovered the greatest comedy routine that had ever been discovered. "Gap this," Knapp grinned, jabbing himself. They were untouched. They started using their routine on first one and then another down the truck. It did not make much of an impression on the general anxiety. "Its all right for them," Friday said to Prew, his fawn's eyes shy and wild with fear. "They chased queers. I aint never. What if they threwn my ass in jail? for something I aint never done?" "I was only down there once myself," Prew grinned. "You're safe. They wont do anything to anybody anyway." "But look at how my hands are shakin," Friday said. "I dont want to go to jail." "Hell, if they threw all the queens and queer-chasers in Honolulu into jail, the city'd go broke tryin to feed them and half the businesses would have to close down for lack of help and the Army'd have to declare a holiday." "Yes," Friday said. "But." "Ahh, shut up," Bloom said, from down the seat. "Whats a matter, you yellow? What do you have to lose? Look at me, I'm liable to get kicked out of NCO School." Bloom was sitting on the swaying seat, his elbows braced on his knees, cracking his knuckles, beside the other candidate, a man named Moore. "You think they'll kick us out over this?" Bloom asked him. "Christ, I hope not," Moore said. "Sure I'm yellow," Friday blazed at Bloom. "Least I admit it I'm yellow. Who was it got old Andy started chasin queers down town, and to quit the git-tars?" he said accusingly. "It wasnt me." Andy, sitting legs out on the floor with his back against the cab and grinning painfully trying to hide the fear that was in his eyes, looked as if he wished he had stayed with the guitars, but he made no comment. "Are you callin me a goddam queer?" Bloom said, getting up, keeping his balance by holding a rib above his head. "Watch how you talk to me, you crummy little Wop." "Kiss my ass," Friday said suddenly, startled by his own audacity. "Why, goddam you." Bloom leaned forward, hanging by his left hand on the rib and grabbed him by his shirt front and jerked him up and shook him, the slender Friday's head and arms flopping loosely like a shaken rag doll. "Leave me alone, Bloom," Friday stuttered. "Leave me alone. I didnt do nothing to you, Bloom." "Take that back," Bloom said, shaking him. "Take it back." "Okay," Friday gargled, flopping. "I take it back." Prew stood up, holding another rib for balance, and grabbed Bloom's wrist and bent his thumbnail in hard on the tendon. "Let go, you son of a bitch. He dont take nothing back. Do you, Friday?" "Yes," Friday gargled. "No, I dont know." Bloom's hand opened under the thumbnail pressure and Friday fell back limply on the seat, his eyes wide with fear, and Bloom and Prew stood in the truck bed swaying, looking at each other, each trying to keep his balance by holding with one hand on a rib above him. "Yeah, and you're another one I've got my eye on," Bloom sneered. "If you're such a hot shot fighter why dont you go out for fighting?" He looked around the truck. "If you're such a tough son of a bitch, why aint you on the boxing squad?" "Because theres too many sons of whores like you on it, thats why." They stood swaying, staring, neither one able to concentrate on his staring properly because he had to use all his concentration to keep his balance. "Someday you're going to make me mad," Bloom said. "You're kiddin," Prew said. "Right now I got more important things to worry about," Bloom said. He sat back down. "Any time you're ready," Prew said. "And I'll give you plenty of time to take your shirt off, too." He sat back down himself. "Thanks, Prew," Friday said.. "Ahhh," Prew said. "Listen, Friday," he said loudly, looking at Bloom, "if that son of a bitch picks on you any more dont fool with him. Pick up a chair or a bar and crown him like Maggio did." He was boiling that Bloom should have ignored the taboo that made Friday Off Limits and a sort of Company mascot, any more than anyone would hit the village idiot boy. "Okay, Prew," Friday gulped. "Anything you say." "Yeah," Bloom snorted. "Do that. And you'll end up the same place Maggio ended up." "Through no fault of yours," Prew amended. Bloom hunched his shoulders contemptuously then, and turned back to Moore, the other NCO candidate who was of his own status, the great indignant rage fading off his face as suddenly as it had come, to be replaced by the astonished anxiety of outrage that had been there before, as if he had suddenly remembered he was being carried downtown against his will, to be investigated as a queer. "Jees," he muttered tensely to the other, "I sure hope this here dont get us kicked out of the School." "Christ," the other said nervously, "me too." Bloom shook his head. "Guy has to watch his step, things like that." "Thats right," the other said. "I never should of went down there in the first place." They were almost to the branch highway to Pearl and Hickam Field by then. The two trucks roared slowly in through Honolulu, keeping to the back streets as much as possible, running around the northern outskirts on Middle Street, past the church that had the big red electric sign above it: JESUS, COMING SOON!, and then east on School Street, but still having to come down Nuuanu right through town to get to the city police station, where the recon was parked at the curb as they pulled in. Pedestrians on Nuuanu and Queen Streets coming and going from the docks where a new tourist liner was pulling in amidst many leis and a band playing in the bright morning sunshine, stopped to stare at them, probably thinking there must be another sabotage problem in the Army's new security program coming off today, and musing momentarily solemnly upon the seriousness of life in this year of Our Lord 1941 before getting back to business, watching curiously the trucks pulling into the alley and the men dismounting and trooping up the steps into the station. Angelo Maggio, flanked by two MP guards with riot guns and sidearms, was sitting in the anteroom to the police lieutenant's office, as the mob trooped in. "My god," Maggio cheered. "This here looks like a regular G Company roll call, or else convention. Who's got the beer?" One of the big MPs jerked his head. "Shut up," he said. "Okay, Brownie," Maggio grinned cheerfully. "Whatever you say. I wouldnt want you should shoot me with that buckshot cannon." The MP looked discomfited and his eyes narrowed at Maggio, and Maggio's eyes narrowed back, above his grin. "Hey, Angelo. Hello, Angelo. Hi, Angelo. Theres Angelo. Look at Angelo. Hows it goin, Angelo." Men who had liked him in the Company, men who had not liked him in the Company, men who had hardly known he was in the Company, even Bloom who would have liked him out of the Company, they all crowded around to say hello to Angelo. "I aint allowed to talk," grinned the celebrity. "I'm under orders. I'm a prisoner, I mean internee. And prisoners aint allowed to talk. They allowed to breath though, if they good that is." He seemed to be the same old Angelo. He wanted to know how the Dodgers were making out with their first games. "I aint had time to keep up on the sports sections lately," he grinned. And at first glance, a month in hock did not appear to have changed him any. But a closer look saw that he had lost a lot of weight, and the hollows under his scrawny cheekbones were even deeper, the narrow bony shoulders if that were possible were more narrow and more bony, there were deep crescents of purple doeskin underneath his eyes. He looked harder, both physically and mentally, and when he laughed there was a metallic glitter in it now. Prew got himself a seat next to him when the detail was told to sit and wait. They talked, low and fast. The two Schofield MPs were obviously at a disadvantage here in public to control their charge. "They cant do nothing to me here," Angelo grinned complacently. "They on their good behavior. They got to make a good impression on this gook lieutenant. Orders from headquarters." "Wait'll you get home," the MP called Brownie said emphatically. "You'll find yourself wishin you could learn to keep your big mouth shut, when you get home." "You're telling me," Angelo grinned. "He's telling me," he said to Prew. "Thats only been to me the biggest trouble all my life, and he's tellin me." "You think its been trouble?" the MP called Brownie said, "you just think its been trouble, Wop." Angelo grinned narrowly. "What can you do to me? thats worse than what I'm doin? Throw me in the Hole maybe for a couple days, is all. You can kill me, but you cant eat me, Brownie." He went on talking, leaving the MP looking discomfited again at the unfair advantage that was being taken of him. "Maybe you better take it easy," Prew suggested. "Hell," Angelo grinned, "I dont get to do this very often. I'm in bad anyway now. I might as well get the good out of it." "How is it up there?" Prew said. "Not so bad. Look at the muscles I'm gettin. And," he added, "I'm gettin so I like Duke's Mixture bettern tailormades now. Save me a lot of money when I get out." "They treat you all right then," Prew said. "No rough stuff." "Well, it aint exactly a school for young ladies. But at least you know they got your best interests at heart. Aint that right, Brownie?" he grinned. The MP called Brownie did not answer. He was still discomfited. He stared straight ahead of him. "He aint use to bein treated like that," Angelo explained to Prew. "Come to think of it, I aint use to treatin him that way neither." "I came up to visit you with a couple cartons of tailor-mades," Prew said apologetically. "But they wouldnt let me in." "Yeah, I heard about it," Angelo said expansively. "Like to got me on the shitlist. Ony I was already on it. Thought I was a sissy, to be smokin tailormades. Had a hard time convincin anybody I wasnt." "Whats going to happen?" Prew asked. "You found out what the deal is?" "Hell no. They tell me nothin. But my trial ought to come up soon, and I've already served a month already. So even if I get a Special and they give me the limit, I'll still only have five months more rehabilitation. I come out, I ought to be a thirdy year man myself. "Listen," Angelo said. "Dont worry about it. It'll work out okay. I already done one month, see? They'll take that off. It wont be so long. Have you still got that forty dollars?" He swung his eyes narrowly without moving his head, toward the MP behind him and back to Prew. "Part of it," Prew said. "I spent part." "Well, I wanted to tell you. That forty's yours, see? You earned it. You spend it. Dont worry about what you owe me, see?" Again he swung his eyes narrowly without moving his head, toward the MP standing behind him and back to Prew. "Okay," Prew said. "They check all your dough in the guard room anyway," Angelo said. "So you just spend it." "I'm using it to work on Lorene," Prew said. "She give you a hard time Payday, dint she?" Angela said. Prew nodded. "Well, you use it. And more power to you, buddy." "Okay," Prew said. "Looks like they gettin ready to get this show on the road," Angelo said. A police clerk had come out of the inner office with a long list in his hand. He called off a name. One of the men rose and followed him inside. The door remained closed for quite a while, then it opened and the clerk with the list called Maggio's name. "Thats me," Angelo said, and got up. "I think I'm the decoy, or would you call it guinea pig?" He went in through the door, one MP with riot gun going in ahead of him, then him, then the other MP with riot gun following him. The door closed. In a few minutes Maggio came back out, one MP with riot gun coming out first, then Maggio, then the other MP with riot gun. "Regular Dillinger, aint I?" Angelo grinned at the crowd. It got a general laugh, even in the nervousness. "Shut up, Maggio," the MP called Brownie warned. "Come on." They took him on through and out another door in the opposite wall, not the corridor door which was on the left wall, but a door into another room. The fourth wall opposite the corridor door was all windows. There were no bars on them. Pretty soon the man whose name had been called first came back out too and the clerk escorted him through the door where Maggio had gone and shut it. One of the Shafter MPs who had ridden in the trucks came and stood by it, when the clerk motioned for him. Then he called another name. The second man followed him through the door into the police lieutenant's office. "Looks like the old single shot routine," somebody said nervously. In a few minutes the clerk came back and went to the opposite door and called Maggio again. "Told you I was the decoy, dint I?" Angelo grinned at the crowd. It got another nervous laugh and the tension relaxed a little, because everybody was comparing himself instinctively to the bony little Wop and deciding he was not so bad off after all. "Shut up, Maggio," the MP called Brownie said. "Come on." They went in. Pretty soon they came out and went back into the other room. Then the clerk led the man out and into the other room and called another name. That was the procedure that was followed down through the whole list. When Prew's name was called he got up and followed the clerk, his knees feeling loose. In the inner
office the half-Hawaiian police lieutenant was behind his desk in his mustard uniform. In a big deep wooden arm chair beside the desk sat Tommy, a look of petulant sullen resignation on his face. The Shafter MP First Lieutenant sat against the wall. The two young-faced FBI stood unobtrusively across the room, seeming a dead part of the furnishings. "You know this man?" the police lieutenant asked Tommy. "No," Tommy said wearily. "I've never seen him before." The police lieutenant consulted a list. "Prewitt," he said. "Prewitt, have you ever seen this man before?" "No, Sir," Prew said. "Havent you ever been out to the Waikiki Tavern?" the lieutenant asked patiently. "Yes, Sir." "And you mean you've never seen this man out there?" "Not that I remember, Sir." "He hangs out there all the time, I'm told." "I may have seen him then, Sir. But if I did I dont remember." "Have you ever seen any queers out there?" "I've seen some men that looked like queers. Looked womanishly. I dont know if they were." "Dont you know a queer when you see one?" the lieutenant asked patiently. "I dont know, Sir. Theres only one sure way to tell a queer, isnt there?" The lieutenant did not smile. He looked tired. "Have you ever been out with a queer, Prewitt?" "No, Sir." "Not once? In your whole life?" Prew wanted to grin, remembering Nair's: Oh. You mean in my WHOLE life, but he did not. "No, Sir," he said. "You dont have to lie to me," the lieutenant said patiently. "The psychological textbooks say that almost every man, at one time or another in his life, has been out with a queer. This is all in the strictest of confidence. We're not trying to put the finger on any of you men. We're trying to protect you from these people." Tommy sat in his chair staring out the window, his face set. He made a very poor monster. Prew felt suddenly sorry for him. To do that," the lieutenant said tiredly, "we have to have legal evidence, to put these people where the law says they belong. We're not after you men." "I thought the law said both parties are held equally responsible," Prew said. "At least," he said, "thats what I've always heard." "Thats true," the lieutenant said tiredly, "legally. However, as I said, nobody wants to bring charges against you men. We only want you to help us clean up this nest of vice out around Waikiki. The Waikiki Tavern is a respectable place. They dont want to be used as an esoteric trysting place any more than we want them to. But they can hardly handle a thing of this magnitude. Its a job for the law." "Yes, Sir," Prew said. The police lieutenant looked very tired, and there were still ten more men after him to be run through. He felt suddenly sorry for the lieutenant. "All right, I'll ask you again, Prewitt: Have you ever been out with a queer." "I rolled one once," Prew said, "when I was on the bum before I got in the army." The lieutenant's tired mouth tightened a trifle. "Okay," he said. He nodded to the clerk standing by the door. "Bring him in." The clerk went out and came back with Maggio and the two big MPs, one MP with riot gun coming through the door first and turning around, then Maggio, then the other MP with riot gun following Maggio. The clerk started to cross the room. His line of march would have passed between the MP called Brownie and Maggio. The MP called Brownie stepped in front of the clerk, standing at port arms wooden faced. "You cant pass between the prisoner and his guard, Corporal," Brownie said woodenly. "Oh! I'm sorry," the clerk said. He was terribly embarrassed. "I forgot," he explained lamely, and went around. "Prewitt, do you know this man?" the lieutenant said wearily. "Yes, Sir." "Is he a friend of yours?" "Not exactly a friend, Sir," Prew said. "He's in my Company." "Werent you talking to him outside a while ago?" the lieutenant said. "Yes, Sir," Prew said. "So were a lot of other people." "You were sitting beside him though, werent you?" "Yes, Sir." "You ever go on pass with this man?" "Yes, Sir. Several times." "You ever go to Waikiki with him?" "No, Sir," Prew said. "I've run into him out there once or twice, but I never went out there with him." "You say you have run into him out there?" "Yes, Sir. I've run into lots of men from the Company out in Waikiki. We all go out there from time to time." "We're concerned with this man now," the lieutenant said. "Who was he with when you saw him out there?" "I dont remember, Sir." "Was it someone from the Company?" "I dont remember, Sir. I dont think he was with anybody." "You mean anybody you knew? Or with nobody?" "With nobody, Sir." "You didnt see him with any of these men you say you've seen out there that looked like they might be queers?" "No, Sir." "Okay," the lieutenant said wearily to the clerk. "Take him out." They took Maggio out, the same way they had brought him in, first one MP with riot gun, then Maggio, then the other MP with riot gun. "They aint takin no chances on him gettin away, are they," Prew said to nobody in particular, unable to resist it. "Soldier," the Shafter MP First Lieutenant said sharply, "you've been in the Army long enough to know the procedure of guarding a prisoner." "Yes, Sir," Prew said, and shut up. "Let's have no more of that then," the Shafter MP First Lieutenant said sharply. "Yes, Sir," Prew said, and shut up. The police lieutenant was playing with a pencil, tiredly. "You have nothing to say, then, about this man here?" He nodded at Tommy who was still staring set-faced out the window, trying hard to be above such disgusting implications and besmirchments. "Nothing at all?" "No, Sir," Prew said. "I don't know him at all, Sir." "We're trying to help you men get out of this mess you've gotten into," the lieutenant said patiently. "You're all of you treading on dangerous ground out in Waikiki. All of you men ought to already know that." He paused. "Yes, Sir," Prew said. "I mean, no, Sir." "Any time a man breaks any law," the lieutenant recited wearily, "he's treading on dangerous ground. Eventually, the law always catches up with him. We're trying to help you men before you get in that deep, Prewitt. But we cant help you if you dont help us to help you." He paused. "No, Sir," Prew said. "I mean, yes, Sir." "You still have nothing to say?" "I dont know anything to say, Sir." "Okay, thats all," the lieutenant said wearily. "Bring in the next one." "Yes, Sir," Prew said. Before he could stop himself, he saluted the civilian police lieutenant instinctively. The lieutenant smiled, and the Shafter MP First Lieutenant laughed sharply. The two bright-faced young FBI men did not do anything, except to lean on against the wall, seeming a part of the furnishings. "Okay, Prewitt," the half-Hawaiian police lieutenant smiled. "Show him out. Who's the next one?" The clerk escorted him across the anteroom and through the door which the Shafter MP stood beside. He shut the door behind him. There was nobody in the long room except the two Schofield MPs guarding Maggio down at the other end, and the men from Schofield who had already been through the mill, sitting on the wooden benches along the walls. Their faces still looked strained. Prew stood looking at them, feeling the sweat from his armpits still trickling coolly down his ribs, then he walked down toward Maggio and the MPs. The MP called Brownie jerked his head. "Stay back there, Mack," he said. "This man is a prisoner." Prew stared hard at him, then moved his eyes to Maggio and winked and grinned. Angelo winked and grinned back, but his heart did not appear to be in it any more. Prew turned back toward the others. Somebody had gotten out a pack of cards and some of them were sitting in a circle on the hardwood floor playing stud for matches. He sat down on the bench and watched. Something had been touching lightly at his mind ever since he had first gone in there and seen that it was Tommy. It did not make sense that they were using Angelo for bait, when it was Tommy. Angelo had never been out with Tommy. Bloom had been out with Tommy. So had Andy. So had Readall Treadwell. So had Prewitt, one time. But the only connection Angelo had with Tommy was last Payday, when he had picked him up for Prewitt, which was the only time Prewitt had been out with any of them, yet Prewitt gets called in on the investigation, too. Where did they get Prewitt's name? and where was Hal the French tutor? If they really had enough on Angelo to use him as the bait, Hal the French tutor ought to be there too. It began to look like whoever had informed had used last Payday for his informing material, but if that was so where was Hal the French tutor? Somebody else had gotten out their packs of the always present, large size, poker cards and now there were three or four stud games for matches going on the floor. They all played concentratedly, not talking, and as they played the strain began to fade off of their faces. Prew gave it up in disgust and sat in on one of the games. Hell, it was all just his imagination probably. He was getting jumpy. He always had an inclination to want to play the leading role. I yam ze great EEtalian actore, I play ze leading role, everybody die. The players moved over silently to let him in. Nobody contested his presence. This common adversity took precedence over The Treatment. The Treatment would start in again as soon as they got safely home. But for now it was suspended before this narrow escape from the law. Pvt 1cl Bloom was the second man after Prewitt to be run through the mill. He came into the room and stared blankly at the stud players and then at Maggio and then he went over to the bench along the other wall and sat down by himself. He did not sit in on any of the games. He sat by himself cracking his knuckles and cursing in a low monotone of astonished outrage and affront, the sound going on and on never changing tone as if it were a pure reflex arising from a great misunderstanding. When Moore, the other NCO candidate, came over to sit beside him he got up and moved away by himself again, looking at Moore indignantly for having interrupted his monotone of cursing. The rest of them played stud for matches concentratedly until the last man had been run through. Then they were herded back out to the trucks by the Shafter MPs wearing only sidearms. Prew turned back for one last look at Angelo at the other end of the room, still sitting between the two big riot-gunned Schofield MPs and also looking outraged, now that this windfall of a vacation he would have to pay for when he got back was over so soon. The trucks pulled out under the same scrutiny of the pedestrians, different pedestrians probably, but as far as the soldiers in the trucks could see, the same identical pedestrians, still coming from the same docks where the same brass band still played the same song for the same new boatload of tourists. As if by a common command, the men in the trucks all stared back conjointly with such a weary ferocity that the pedestrians got uncomfortable and looked away at something else and tried to appear occupied, thinking that if it did come to a war at least we could put as tough and bloodthirsty an Army in the field as anybody. Then the trucks were out on the open highway, riding over the steep gulches of crumbling crimson rock, past the cane fields, some of them burning in the crisp summer air with great black clouds of smoke, past the mathematical fields of pineapple, back toward Schofield. It was after three o'clock, and under the vast bowl of the cerulean sky everything looked very small and far away and very quiet, as far as the eye could see to the blue smoke of the mountains on both sides. At the monthly Sex Hygiene Lecture and short arm inspection, a week later, Capt Holmes made a short embarrassed speech about perversion and degeneracy, after the movies showing what syphilis and clap can do to you had been run off. The Chaplain, in his address on the importance of love in the sexual act and the necessity of sexual faithfulness and continence on the part of the male before marriage, did not mention either. Lorene, Prew thought, listening to both of them. It was such a perfect whore's name; Lorene. It fitted her so well. It had all the right sounds, the right connotations. It was a much better name than Billy, or Sandra, or Maureen. He was glad she was named Lorene, instead of Agnes or Gladys or Thelma or some other name like that. Lorene was better.