From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [107]
“All right,” Willard said. “By god all right I will. A Mess Sergeant who wont even stand up for his own cooks.”
“Whats that?” Stark said.
“Nothing,” Willard, who could not forget the day Stark took him out on the green, said.
After he had gone out, Prew said, “He’ll really have it in for me now,” and pulled a stool up to the aluminum pastry table and sat down to eat.
“He got it in for you?”
“I dint ask him could I have some coffee before I helped myself.”
Stark grinned; his one-sided, off-beat grin. “Always defending his rank. As a pillroller he might be all right. He’s fat enough. But as a cook he’s lousy. I think he sweats in all the food. Guys like him only talk, they never really bother anybody.”
Prew nodded, grinning, believing it when Stark said it because it was so obviously true of all gutless wonders; but it did not work out like Stark said, although Prew did not notice this. It worked out just the opposite. Willard did not let it drop. He shut up about it, but he did not let it drop. And because Pfc Bloom came rushing in shortly after to report, Willard had Prew where he could really bother him, in the kitchen, on pots and pans.
“Well?” Pfc Bloom said energetically, setting his coffee next to Prew, “what job you going to take? We might as well get it figured out. The rinsing sink’s the easiest. I dont mind the washing sink, myself. Which one you want?”
“I dont know yet,” Prew said, silently cursing Reedy Treadwell’s laziness.
“Dont know yet!” Pfc Bloom exclaimed.
“Thats right. I thought maybe you might want pots and pans.”
“Are you kidding?” Pfc Bloom asked. “Not me, buddy.”
“Some guys like pots and pans,” Prew said hopefully. “Some guys claim you get done quicker and get a longer morning break, on pots and pans.”
“Thats fine,” Pfc Bloom said. “Reedy should be very happy. Just between you and me,” Pfc Bloom said confidentially, “I dint want to work with him anyway. He’s too slow. You and me now, we can get this stuff done up fast and have time for a good break in the morning and afternoon both.”
“We having spuds for dinner,” Prew told him.
“Oh, God,” said Pfc Bloom.
“You dont want the pots and pans then?”
“Hell no,” Pfc Bloom said. “You think I’m crazy?”
“Then I guess I’ll take them. You and Reedy can have the dishes.”
“You mean you want them?”
“Sure,” Prew said. “I like them.”
“You do? Then whynt you take them in the first place? without asking me what I want?”
“Well,” Prew said. “I thought maybe you might like them too. I dint want to cut you out.”
“Yeah?” asked Pfc Bloom suspiciously. “Well its okay by me. I wouldnt want to take them from you. I’ll take the rinsing sink. Reedy can have the washing sink, since he’s last man.”
So saying, he charged into the KP room, bull-like, not giving the other a chance to change his mind, and hung his fatigue hat on the faucets of this prize that was a windfall. He was very happy to have outwitted Prewitt.
Prew was already washing egg pans at the big double sink in the kitchen when Readall Treadwell finally appeared, having been routed out with the rest of the Company by the CQ at First Call. He saw Reedy peek at him, quite surprised, then amble happily into the KP room, so happily that he almost bumped into Dining Room Orderly Maggio who was coming through.
“Comin through!” screamed Maggio, shoving the two empty platters he had in his hands in front of him. “Stand aside! Hot stuff! Comin through! Me and my table waiters,” he bawled commandingly, in the protective tone of an officer who looks out for his men, “we workin our ass off. They runnin us to death. Hot Stuff! Comin through hot stuff one side!” He pushed through to the kitchen to refill the platters, joyfully cracking the new whip of his authority that nobody paid any attention to, least of all his eight table waiters.
“Howm I doin?” he asked Prew under his breath. “Man, I’m rough. Puttin in for corporal tomorra.”
Prew stopped long enough to grin at him ruefully, before he went back to work, scraping, washing,