From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [106]
“No,” Prew said. “You just think that, because you like to sleep so goddam much.” He did not like the fat cook any better than the rest did, but he did not mind him.
“You sure dint meant to lose that easy job though, did you?” Willard grinned obscenely. “I guess you’d of got up just as early anyway, wouldnt you?”
“Thats right, Fatstuff,” Prew said, sneering the hated nickname, suddenly inflamed by this needling cook who hated to get up and was trying to take it out on him. “What do you want? me to say I always pick the hard jobs, like you?”
“I’m sure glad I dont have to pull KP no more,” Willard needled, grinning, giving the almost boiling coffee one more stir, and setting it off to settle.
“You pull KP ever day, Fatstuff. Only you’re too goddam dumb to know it.”
“At least I get paid extra for it.”
“Through no fault of yours. If you had to eat the food you cook you’d soon be thin, instead of a fat roasting pig.”
“Dont get wise with me, you might find yourself on KP again tomorrow.”
“Up yours,” Prew said, and helped himself to the coffee, deliberately without asking, pouring in a thin stream of the canned milk.
“Thats cooks’ coffee,” Willard said. “Wait till you’re asked.”
“I waited till you asked me I’d be dead. What makes fat men so mean and stingy, Fatstuff? Because they afraid they wont have enough to eat? It must be tough to be a fat man,” he grinned and moved up to the stove warmth, the hot dark liquid scalding down him sweetly, burning away the sleep and early morning chill.
“Goddam you,” Willard glowered. “You’re wise, aint you? I’m telling you, you keep on getting wise with me, you’ll find yourself on KP Payday. I still got enough stripes I dont have to take no KP’s lip.”
“Pullin your rank, ’ey?” Prew grinned, and filled his cup again. “He dishes it out, when he has to take it he pulls his rank. I always knew you were chicken, Fatstuff.”
“You’ll think I’m chicken,” Willard said. “You dont know what chicken is, wise guy. I only hope you get on pots and pans today, wise guy.”
Prew laughed, but not relishing it any more, knowing the fat cook was afraid because he was a fighter, but also knowing Willard would make him pay for this the rest of the day, if he got the chance, simply because he had not kept his mouth shut and taken Willard’s gaff.
The rest of them began to come in then, a sudden influx, and Willard let it drop. The kitchen began to fill with pleasant warmth and bustle that soon turned into unpleasant heat and frantic agitation to get the breakfast out on time. Stark was there, in the middle of it from the first, carrying papers in his hand, already doing tomorrow’s paperwork, but at the same time overseeing everything.
Prew was frying himself eggs and bacon on the corner of the griddle, a privilege that up until Stark took over Willard had guarded jealously from the KPs, but which Stark had let them have, when Stark called Willard down about the breakfast eggs.
“How many times I have to tell you to measure how much milk you put in scrambled eggs,” Stark said. “Throw this mess out.”
“But thats wasteful. I’ll have to do them over.”
“It’d be more wasteful to throw it out after we’ve served it and the men wont eat it,” Stark said. “Throw it out.”
“But there wont be time to start another batch, Maylon,” Willard said, trying to twist out of it, using Stark’s first name as a protection.
“I said throw it out. If we have to hold chow, we’ll hold it. But we wont feed these men slop. Will we?”
“My eggs aint slop, Maylon.”
“Throw it out, Fatstuff,” Stark said, like an umpire calling the play at second base against the crowd. “And when you come back turn your goddam oven down, unless you want to serve them scrambled rubber. You have to do them over twice, you will be late.”
“Oh, God,” Willard said, looking at the ceiling, “I dont know why it always falls on me. Here,” he bawled at Prew, “You. KP. Whatsyername. Throw this stuff out.”
“You know my name, Fatstuff,” Prew said.
“There,” Willard said, squinch-eyed, to Stark. “You hear that? Thats insubordination. He been doin that to me all day.”
“Throw it