From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [164]
What he did not know was what had happened in the orderly room to put Holmes in the indulgent mood, nor what happened this time, the second time.
The Man’s face was congested a brick red when he stomped back inside, the anger he had managed to conceal in front of Prewitt backing up now like a flood behind a bridge.
“You and your bright ideas of leadership,” he raged at Warden. “You and your brilliant ideas of how to handle bolsheviks.”
Warden was still standing by the window. He had watched all of it. Now he turned around, wishing The Mouth, or would you say The Sword, The Flaming Sword, would step outside to talk to Ike, so The Warden could open up the file cabinet and get a drink.
“Sergeant Warden,” The Man said thickly, “I want you to prepare court martial papers for Prewitt. Insubordination and refusing a direct order of an officer. I want them now.”
“Yes, Sir,” The Warden said.
“I want them to go in to Regiment this afternoon,” The Man said.
“Yes, Sir,” The Warden said. He went to the blank forms file, where the useless bottle was. He got out four of the long double sheets of the forms and shut the drawer on the bottle and took the papers to the typewriter.
“You cant be decent to a man like that,” The Man said thickly. “He has been a troublemaker ever since he hit this outfit. Its time he had a lesson. They tame the lions in the Army, not appease them.”
“You want it recommended for a Summary? or a Special,” The Warden said indifferently.
“Special,” The Man said. His face got redder. “I’d like to make it a goddamned General. I would, if I could. You and your bright ideas.”
“Its nothing to me,” The Warden shrugged, beginning to type. “All I said was, we’ve had three court martials in the last six weeks and it might not look so good on the records.”
“Then to hell with the records,” The Man almost, but not quite, shouted. It was the peak. He sat down in his swivel chair exhausted and leaned back and stared broodingly at the door into the corridor that he had carefully closed.
“Thats all right with me,” The Warden said, still typing.
The Man did not appear to hear, but The Warden, typing, still watched him, gauging carefully, making sure it was the peak. You could not handle this time like the last time. This was stronger. This was the last time squared, and you would have to square the strength of your approach, and then if you waited till the other’s peak was past, then logically you would have it made, but was it worth it? Hell no, it wasnt worth it, not when you might crimp your own concatenation, what was it to you if some damned son of a bitching stupid fool of an antediluvian got himself beheaded by a progressive world by going around in a dream world and trying to live up to a romantic, backward ideal of individual integrity? You could go doing things for a jerk like that forever, and never help him any. It was never worth it, but it would really be a feather in your cap if you could pull it off again now, this time. That would be worth a try, just for the hell of it. If he was doing this, it was not because it was his responsibility to knock himself out taking care of headless chickens who refuse to become modern and grow a head, it was just for the fun of seeing if he could pull it off, not for no stupid ass who still believed in probity.
“Too bad you got to lose a welterweight like that,” The Warden said indifferently, after The Man had brooded on the door a while in silence. He took the sheets out of the machine and began to rearrange the carbons for the second page.
“What?” The Man said, looking up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’ll still be in hock when Compny Smokers comes up, wont he?” The Warden said indifferently.
“To hell with the Company Smokers,” The Man said. “All right,” he said. “Make it a Summary then.”
“But I already got this typed up,” The Warden said.
“Then c