From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [373]
“Well, I think I’ll go on down and show this to the guard,” Francis said happily. “See you guys later.” He went off down the hill still holding his left arm gingerly with his right.
“Jesus!” Prew said, feeling an unusually cool trickle of sweat down his back.
“Man, he can have it,” Jackson said. “I dont want any of that. Not even if it would get me clear out of the Stockade.”
“What the hell?” Berry grinned. “You hear about criminals operatin on themself all a time to get bullets out. Thats lots worse than this.”
“I never heard about it anywheres outside of the movies,” Prew said.
“Me neither,” Jackson said. “I never seen it.”
“Hell, it was easy,” Berry grinned at them. “There wasnt nothing to it.”
Between hammerswings they watched the guard on the road make a call in from the box while the Indiana farmboy stood beside him happily, holding his left arm gingerly in his right. Then pretty soon the truck came up for him and he climbed in the back, still holding his left arm gingerly in his right.
“See?” Berry said. “Easy as pie. Hell, I got a goddam good notion to do it myself.”
“If two guys showed up with broken arms, they’d sure as hell suspect something then,” Prew said.
“I know it,” Berry grinned wolfishly. “Thats why I aint. But thats about the only goddam reason.”
That evening when they came in from work they learned that Francis Murdock the Indiana farmboy was already in the prison ward with a certified broken arm from a fall on the rockpile. It was, however, only broken in one place, instead of two as he had hoped.
Nothing was said about it and no questions were asked and it appeared as if it had all gone off like clockwork. Evening chow went off just as usual.
But after chow, shortly before lights out, Fatso and Major Thompson himself came into Number Two with the grub hoe handles and looking madder than hell.
It was almost like an inspection. They lined them up at attention by their bunks and the two riot-gunned guards stood just inside with the third guard standing outside holding the key to the locked door. Major Thompson looked as if he had just caught his wife in bed with a private.
“Young Murdock broke his arm out on the rockpile this afternoon,” the Major said crisply. “He claimed it was broke by a fall. He went to the hospital with that disposition because we like to keep our fights in the family here. But just between us, somebody broke that arm for him. Murdock and the man who broke it for him are both guilty of malingering. We do not tolerate malingering in this Stockade. Murdock’s sentence is going to be lengthened, and when he comes back from the hospital he’s going to find it pretty tough around here. Now I want the man who broke Murdock’s arm to step forward.”
Nobody moved. Nobody answered.
“All right,” the Major said crisply. “We can play hard too. You men are in Number Two because you are recalcitrants. I dont have no sympathy for any of you. You’ve been getting away with murder lately and its about time all of you learned who runs this Stockade. I’ll give the man one last chance to step forward.”
Nobody moved.
“All right, Sergeant,” the Major said crisply and nodded at Fatso.
S/Sgt Judson stepped up to the first man and said, “Who broke Murdock’s arm?” The man was a skinny little old-timer from the 8th Field with a craggy lined face that portrayed absolute cynicism and eyes that stared straight ahead as immovably as two stones. He had been clear over on the other side of the quarry but he already knew the whole story. He said, “I dont know, Sergeant” and Fatso rapped him across the shins with the grub hoe handle and asked him again. The craggy face never moved and the solid stone eyes neither wavered nor flickered. He said, “I dont know, Sergeant” again and Fatso slammed him with the head in the belly and asked him again. He got exactly the same results.
It was the same way all up and down the line. Fatso started methodically at one end and worked his way diligently down and back up to the other. He asked each man the same question “Who broke Murdock’s arm?” five times. Not a figure moved and not an eye flickered or wavered and nothing but infinite