From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [23]
“If I’d known you were in the Regiment last December when the season started I’d have looked you up,” Holmes smiled.
Prew said nothing. On his left he could feel, not hear, The Warden snorting softly with disgust as he began to study a sheaf of papers with the elaborate I’m-not-with-him air of a sober man whose friend is drunk.
“I can use a good bugler, Prewitt,” Holmes smiled. “My regular Company bugler hasnt the experience. And his apprentice only has his job because he’s such a fuckup I was afraid he’d shoot somebody on a problem.” He laughed and looked at Prew, inviting him to join it.
Milt Warden, who was the one who had suggested Salvatore Clark for the apprentice bugler, after Clark almost shot himself on guard, went on studying his papers, but his eyebrows quivered.
“A Pfc rating goes with the job,” Holmes said to Prew. “I’ll have Sergeant Warden post the order, first thing tomorrow.”
He waited then, but Prew said nothing, watching the dry ironic sunlight coming through the open window, wondering how long now it would take him to catch on, unable to believe that they had not heard it all before, and feeling how his uniform that had been fresh at eight o’clock was damp and musty now with sweat, beginning to be soaked.
“I realize,” Holmes smiled indulgently, “a Pfc isnt very much, but our TO quota of noncoms is all filled up. We have two noncoms who are shorttimers though,” he said. “They’ll be leaving on next month’s boat.
“Its too bad the season’s almost over or you could start training this afternoon, but the schedule ends the last of February. But then,” he smiled, “if you dont fight Regimental this year, you’ll be eligible for Company Smokers in the fall.
“Have you seen any of our boys in the Bowl this year?” he asked. “We’ve got some good ones, I’m confident we’ll keep the trophy. I’d like to get your opinion on a couple of them.”
“I havent been to any of the fights this year, Sir,” Prew said.
“What?” Holmes said, not believing it. “You havent?” He stared at Prew a moment curiously, then looked at Warden knowingly. He picked up a freshly sharpened pencil from his desk and studied it. “Why is it,” Capt Holmes said softly, “that you’ve been in the Regiment a whole year, Prewitt, and nobody knew a thing about it? I should have thought you would have come around to see me, since I am the boxing coach and since we’re the Division champions.”
Prew moved his weight from one foot to the other and took one deep breath. “I was afraid you’d want me to go out for the squad, Sir,” he said. There it is, he thought, its out now, you’ve got it now. Now he can carry the ball. He felt relieved.
“Of course,” Holmes said. “Why not? We can use a man as good as you are. Especially since you’re a welterweight. We’re poor in that division. If we lose the championship this year, it will be because we lost the welterweight division.”
“Because I left the 27th because I had quit fighting, Sir,” Prew said.
Again Holmes looked at Warden knowingly, this time apologetically, as if now he could believe it since he’d heard it from the man himself, before he spoke. “Quit fighting?” he said. “What for?”
“Maybe you heard about what happened with Dixie Wells, Sir,” Prew said, hearing Warden lay his papers down, feeling Warden grinning.
Holmes stared at him innocently, eyes wide with it. “Why, no,” he said. “What was that?”
Prew went through the story for him, for both of them, standing there with his feet one foot apart and his hands clasped behind his back, and feeling all the time he spoke it was superfluous, that both of them already knew all about the deal already, yet forced to play the role that Holmes had set for him.
“Thats too bad,” Holmes said, when he had finished. “I can understand why you might feel that way. But those things happen, in this game. A man has got to accept that possibility when he fights.”
“Thats one reason why I decided I would quit, Sir,” Prew said.
“But on the other hand,”